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VIEWS
8 Leaders of Tomorrow! OCTOBER 1997 MBC Wolverine OBSERVER
It was August 29, 1997, the last Friday of
the month, the first Friday of the new
semester. A nice cool night with the wind
softly strolling back and forth. There was
just a sweet spirit of communion and
fellowship just hovering over my soul. I
was sitting down at my desk reading and
meditating on the absolute oneness of God.
My heart was filled and overflowing with
the glory of God. Peace just like a river
attended my soul, but only a few moments
later, sorrow like sea billows will have rolled
over my heart.
I was reading, and then I paused and
meditated; “Great is the mystery of
godliness: God was manifest in the flesh,
justified in the Spirit, seen of angels,
preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in
the world, received up into glory.”
Suddenly, I heard a loud uproar. This was
not the usual sound of students socializing;
there was shouting; there was screaming; it
was escalating; and it was coming from
Mitchell Street, in front of Middleton
Complex. I sprang up from my desk and
bolted to my window to see what was going
on. I looked down. To my amazement, I
saw a crowd of students in an all out war.
Some students were standing on the steps at
the entrance of the Towers. Others ran into
the streets. And, spectators were cheering
(as if this was a form of entertainment).
The fighting might have lasted for about
three minutes, but those three minutes felt
like several hours. Those three minutes
decapitated over a centuries’ worth of our
founding fathers’ blood, sweat, tears, self
sacrifice, and vision for our generation. My
heart was soaked with sorrow after
witnessing this tragic event, but the sorrow
had just begun. A brother with no shirt on
paced up and down the street repeatedly
shouting, “Nigga What, Nigga What.” He
then raced from the streets going into the
Towers, changing his chant to, “It’s on now,
it’s on now.” Spectators continued to shout
and cheer, talking about the highlights of the
fight as if it were a Monday night football
game.
One sister was so thrilled by this irate,
unrighteous ordeal that she ran and leaped
for joy just as if the Lord had just healed her
from a paralexic condition. There was still
more sorrow to come. A tree was
obstructing my view to the extreme right,
and I was unaware that a brother got hit
over the head with a bottle, and was laying
unconscious in the street. While the brother
laid unconscious, some of the spectators just
laughed and boasted, publicizing this
unbecoming incident.
About four minutes after the fighting
ended, MBC Police arrived on the scene.
Shortly after, an Atlanta Police Department
officer pulled up, and then the paramedics
and fire department. Unaware that someone
was seriously injured, I was not expecting to
see an ambulance. When the ambulance
stopped by the tree that obstructed my view
to the extreme right, then I realized that
someone had incurred serious harm. I had
been praying in my heart up to this point,
“Dear Lord, have mercy,” but when the
ambulance retrieved fny brother and started
to depart, I began to cry out to the Lord,
asking him to give us a heart like His: a
heart that has no hatred, no violence, no
prejudice, but full of love.
During the course of the next few days, I
communicated with students and staff
concerning this horrible incident that
occurred on our campus. My sorrow
increased when I heard some students
“Bigging Up” this dogma of rage like it was
something positive. There was a solemn feel
over our campus; people trying to find out
who were involved, and what was the
condition of the victim. I had a desire to
know more, but there was not enough
information being shared along the lines of
communication. Then on Thursday,
September 4, a student informed me that the
victim, Hartwell Cornelius, had passed away
that morning at Grady Memorial Hospital.
Shortly after, I received a memo from the
Office of the President that confirmed this
heart aching news.
We must realize that this lynching was not
the work of any internal ethnic group, but
we are the ones responsible. Sometimes we
are inclined to forfeit the responsibiity of our
own doing, and just blame “The White
Man” (as it is most often stated). Ethnicity
had nothing to do with the slaying of
Hartwill, but a lack of respect for humanity.
This type of violence is not uncommon to
our campus, nor to other campuses, but
today we declare a Resolution for a
Change.
RESOLUTION FOR A CHANGE
Administration - We cannot wait for a
fatality such as this before we begin to make
needed improvements. Friday night’s
incident might not have happened if we had
a security officer stationed at Middleton
Complex. During last year’s Black College
Spring Fest weekend, we had staff at the
entrance of the Towers who checked ID’s
and made sure that only authorized people
entered the Towers. If we saw the need for
better security on that weekend, why don’t
we see the need for it year round? Right
now any unauthorized person can enter our
dorms without any questions being asked.
This was an issue from last semester, and we
were told that actions would be taken. We
cannot afford to wait for a casualty. We
need a change now.
Students - We must realize that the
incident that took place on Friday was
uncharacteristic, and it is not the desired
behavior here at MBC. This incident was
disrespectful and dishonoring both to our
administration and to our fellow students.
Let us take pride in our school and in our
history, and in each other. Fighting,
defacing school property, littering of the
campus, etc., create negative publicity for
our school and for ourselves. This type of
publicity can be crippling when seeking
employment. We need to take advantage of
our educational opportunity and do the best
we can; competition is great in the
workforce. Increase our marketability by
performing at our very best. This is an
invaluable opportunity for us, our family,
and our community. So let us do it for
ourselves, for our family, for our
community, for our founding fathers, and
for MBC.
Life, what greater thing can two people
create? What greater gift can one hope to
receive? Surely, there is no material wealth
attainable in this world to overshadow the
endowment of creation. One of the most
divine traits about life is its individuality, its
uniqueness. Each and every sacred seed
brought into existence carries with it a
personality bound to grow into tomorrow’s
doctors, lawyers, writers, and artists. Each
one becomes a significant piece in the
ambiance of existence. Unfortunately, the
importance of nourishing and respecting our
own lives, and inversely, the lives of those
around us has diminished from prominence
and plummeted into neglect. We can read
any newspaper or watch the news on
television and witness life being abused,
cheated, raped, and murdered. There’s such
an abundance of these crimes that it seems
unreal and we become numb to its
depressing residue...until it hits home - when
someone whom we eat with, sleep with, and
grow with, becomes the news. When death
comes home, it’s like the sting of a bee or a
deep splinter in your finger. Remember this
my brothers and sisters, it could have been
any one of us. It could have been me! It
could have been you!
Unhappily, tragedy has reared its hideous
head here at Morris Brown. As a result,
another black star has been senselessly
extinguished. He died without a comprehen
sible reason and the one whose stupidity
victimized us all is a black male as well.
A black man must be able to look into the
eyes of another black man and instead of
seeing black skin, thick hair, and full lips,
instead of seeing broad shoulders, high
cheek bones and wide smiles, he must see
himself. I would like to be able to say that
there is a simple solution to this problem -
some magic word or three clicks of my heels
- but of course, there is not. The fact is there
is no one solution to this vastly complex
problem. The cure to such a sickness begins
when each individual finds a better way than
violence to solve a problem. Those ‘better
ways’ exist as sure as the sun rises every
day, but it takes a little maturity and
humility, a little forbearance, and a little
patience to illuminate them. The secret is to
develop a capacity to endure inconvenience
and hardship without complaint - thereby,
giving life the opportunity to live a little
longer.
By Konchus
We all fear the unknown, even those of us
that boast freedom and understanding. We
take for granted that someone else’s views
are parallel to our own. Then, we pretend
that everything we know is all there is to
know and what we don’t know - well it
doesn’t really matter, does it? We are too
selfish to take the time to leam about
someone else, to look through someone
else’s eyes and come to know and
understand someone else’s history.
We laugh at those that don’t walk like us,
talk like us, dress like us, or heaven forbid -
look like us. So shallow and simple minded
are we behind the mask; the mask of the
cultured metropolitan, the cool suburbanite,
and the American Dream. Inside, we frown
at the thought of confronting the unknown,
the strange, and the remotely different.
Perhaps, it might awaken something deep
within ourselves that we strive to hide or are
too afraid to allow to shine. Perhaps it will
bear evidence of our own pains, our ecstatic
joys, our fears, and our fantasies.
We who boast freedom of understanding
do not truly comprehend what freedom and
understanding are. Instead of judging, we
must leam to open our minds for a full
understanding of things. If we simply allow
ourselves to leam about others, that will
only open doors to a better understanding of
ourselves. Honestly, don’t we all really
need a deeper understanding of ourselves?