Friday, February 20, 2015

African-American History Month: Bessie Coleman

Bessie_Coleman
Bessie Coleman was the First African-American woman to get her pilot's license. She said, " I refused to take no for an answer." She was told no many times when she went to different flight schools. But she knew what she wanted. Doggedly she pursued her dream of being a pilot.



Her story began in 1892 Atlanta, Georgia. She was born to Susan and George Coleman. They moved to Oklahoma in search of better opportunities. She attended school. Then she went to college she was only able to finish one semester due to financial constraints. 


After that she moved to Chicago. She was 23 and had her heart set on flying from the stories she heard in the news about World War I pilots. She tried to go to American Pilot Schools, because she was African-American woman they denied her the opportunity. She wasn't going to let this stop her.  Skilfully she learned French. She was journeying all the way to France where she could learn how to fly without being stopped because of Prejudiced people. 


Finally, she arrived in France. She was full of hope and happiness. She was going to be a pilot. In seven months she adeptly earned her pilot's license at Caudron Brother's School of Aviation. She was officially the First African-American woman to get her pilot's license. 
After receiving her pilot's license, she wanted other African-Americans to have the opportunity to learn to fly. She established a flight school. 

She began to try stunt flying and parachuting. Bravely, she performed many stunts. She was the first African-American to show her flight stunts in public.  She continued this.Tragically she died at an aerial stunt practice at age 34  April 30, 1926 due to accident. She remains forever remembered because she did not take no for any answer.

Here are some quotes from her. 

You've never lived till you've flown!

The air is the only place free from prejudice.

Here are the sources I used:
http://www.biography.com/people/bessie-coleman-36928
http://www.biography.com/people/bessie-coleman-36928

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

THE WALK by: Lorrayya Williams

    
This is my full short story!! What do you think? Don't share. Warning the ending is sad. I finished it a week last month. Thanks for Reading!!!! I posted part of this earlier.

The Walk
By: Lorrayya Williams
“I usually walk home by myself. My backpack on my back. My smart phone in my hands. That was my first mistake not paying attention. My second mistake was being the daughter of an FBI agent but I really couldn’t help that I guess so it’s not really a mistake though. Any way since I did not pay attention to the dark van FOLLOWING me, that was a HUGE mistake. I was walking along the desolate deserted road, posting old selfies on Instagram for throwback Thursday, and being totally oblivious to my surroundings. Like I said earlier HUGE mistake. I did not notice the van with the terrorists until a hand reached out and quickly grabbed and yanked me into the van. At that point I did not realize that I was being kidnapped for ransom. The ransom was my father’s life!!!
After I was yanked into the van, they covered my mouth and nose with a strange smelling cloth. I blacked out.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a dank and dusty room. The walls were a dark charcoal gray. The entire room seemed to be fashioned of cement. There was a metal door. It appeared to be quite heavy. May be it was caste of iron. The room also held an olive colored wooden set of 2 chairs and a table. There was also a thin straw mat on which I was sitting. It was very cold. I had to backtrack in my thoughts to remember what happened. That is when it dawned on me. “I was kidnapped!” I screamed the words they felt strange upon my tongue. Things like this were supposed to happen to other people NOT me.  I lay there dumb and awestruck on the scratch straw cot. It seemed as If I had been there for hours that is when I perceived someone loudly unlocking the door. A man with deep blue cold hard eyes the color of the ocean.  He had jet black hair. It was gelled back. He also had a hideous scar on his right cheek. I sat bolt upright. I was terribly frightened.
He opened his mouth and uttered in a hideous accent, “Hopefully your family has a lot money. Your ransom is 1 million and your father’s life. We want FBI agent Trees gone… dead. This is why we have you. We knew he’d come looking for you.”
He sneered at me. I glared loathingly at him. Speedily, he exited the room slamming the door. I was alone again. I was happy to be alone again. After that bit of excitement my stomach began to grumble. I commenced to think of an escape plan so I could ignore my screaming stomach. I slowly scanned the whole room. The only two routes of escape were through the door.  (nor and option) and the vent (also not an option too small) I lay there contemplating a way of escape. There seemed to be no option. Until I noticed there was a tiny slot in the door where they were giving me water. There was also a place where you can unlock the door on my side of the door. I could use the wire connecting the metal flap to the door.  But how would I remove the flap. My strength was waning so I probably couldn’t rip it off with blunt force.  But I tried. Luckily, I was able to rip it off. I nimbly took the wire out of the flap. I was then grateful for the boring picking lock lessons my father taught me. I began to manipulate the wire. I was able to open the lock but before I had to pick the best time. I had to learn their ins and outs that way I pick the best time. That also meant waiting hour could mean life or death… On the other hand if I escaped then I could be caught and murdered brutally. Plus I did not know what part of the country I was in or if I was still in the United States. I decided to pick the lock and leave. As I begin to pick the lock beads of perspiration materialize on my forehead. I attempt at working as quietly as possible. Finally the door flew open. I fell into a large room. The Building appeared to be a warehouse. I was spacious and frigid and dimly lit.  It was empty. I cautiously gazed round my eyes darting from one place to another. Stealthily, I get up dusting myself off. I creep towards the door at the other side of the empty expanse. I scan my surroundings as I walk towards the door.  When I was there I reached out and grab the knob. I turned the door knob slowly.
 After a day of being locked up the sun looked brighter than ever. I breathed in the smell of fresh clean air.  Everything was so beautiful. Then my world stopped when I spotted name of the abandoned warehouse written in… in…. Arabic. I was in a Arabic speaking country. I stammered the words. There was no way for me to get back home. I was stranded in a foreign country in the middle of the desert.  For once I was truly alone. All I had left to sustain me was my Savior and my Savior alone. So I decided to pray that God would protect me and life. After praying, I set out on a trek to safety. I began walking by the side of the gravely uneven pavement. I trod along happily with pep in step. But after a while my strength began to wane. My steps began waver. My breathing was heavy I felt like giving up, but instead I took a nap on the sand.  I woke up several hours later. It was nearly dusk. The sun was gold turning the sky splashes of pinks and purples. I had wasted too many hours in slumber. I stood up and began my journey again. I slowly progressed. But was I ever going to get home? I began to cry. I kicked a rock. It began to fly along when it landed there was huge explosion. It shook the ground around me. I was thrown through the air. I think I was knocked unconscious for hours maybe.
I woke up in bondage again. I had a terrible headache. My head was wrapped.  I could feel the blood staining the bandages on my head.  The blood was stiff, dry, and disgusting .My head was pounding. The pain was blinding. I went back into a fitful sleep. I woke up in intervals with a fevers and chills. My cuts were infected.  I began to progressively grow worse.  I was in pain.  I was malnourished, thirsty, and terribly ill. I felt week. I was shaking from the chills and fever.  I even began to vomit. I felt terrible. I knew if I did not get to the hospital soon. I would die…
I sat up using all my strength. I propped myself against the wall. This room was different than the last one. It just had a crude straw cot. It was also smaller and there was no place for key on the outside. In the corner was a glass of water. I mustered up all my strength.  I feebly began to drag myself to that glass of water. The room seemed to steadily grow and grow. After crawling to the water, I finally was there. It took me an hour to get there. My breathing was labored and I was in excruciating pain.  The small glass of water felt like a 30 pound lead weight. It took all my strength to drink that glass of water. I drank it. It was nice feeling the cool water on my dehydrated tongue. I had to rest before I could crawl back to my caught. I entered dream land. I had terrible nightmares. When awake I was delusional. I saw frightening things. I dare not mention. I woke up from my terrible dreams screaming and sweating. If I did not get out soon, I knew I was going to die.  I had lost all hope.  I was as good as dead.
A terrorist man came in. He snatched my arm roughly. He dragged my feeble frame to an interrogation room. There was a light. It looked the ones on the TV. shows.  They began to assault me with questions.
“What is your address?”
“I can’t remember,” I stammered. It was true. I had forgotten
They slapped me across the face. I was knocked from the chair. I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Where do you live?”
“I don’t know,” I stated vehemently.
They hit me again the blow giving me a black. I began shaking and I had a seizure.  I threw up the little water I had drunk.  I begged God to let me die. Just let me die I thought. They hit me for throwing up. Then they grabbed me and threw me into the room I was in before. I landed roughly on the cot. I fell asleep that is all I had the strength to do.
They shook me awake for more interrogation. I could not even walk. I was holding on to life with a silent resolve. I couldn’t die I was all my dad had left. My mother and brother were dead. Thinking about made me feel even sicker. I began weeping. I slumped into the chair to be asked more questions and probe at me.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” I screamed. They punched with a crushing blow.  I stood up on wobbling legs. I stared at him dead in the eyes and bellowed with a determination I did not know I had, “I told you I don’t know!! I don’t.”
This earned me another blow, when the door was busted open FBI agents. I had been rescued.  I felt jubilant. The FBI agent half carried half dragged me out of the room. Some of the terrorists were apprehended.  I sat on the hood of a car. They brought some things. They thought I would need it. My dad comes to embrace me. I hug him back. They put me on a cart they give me and IV. They rush me to the hospital my Dad is holding my hand. I looked at him. I went unconscious.” I told the investigator.
“You remembered a lot of details. Most people don’t,” she responds,” That is good now we have a greater chance of catching them and finding your first location. Do you remember the words on the building?”
“NO, but I am beginning to remember more things. I even remembered my Address and phone number,” I say.  I touch the bandage on my head.
“Do you remember any other important details?”
“No, I don’t. That is all I have for now,” I reply.
She leaves. My father enters the room. Since my kidnap my father has been showering me with gifts.
There is a huge teddy bear that had get well on it. There are several vases of flowers sent by several people. Their smell sweetly fills the room.
“ I smuggled in some chocolate,” he tells me.
I smile. Chocolate is my favorite. My dad hands me the chocolates.  I take it. I open the box and take out a chocolate.
“Thanks, Dad. My favorite.”
“Anything for my princess.”
The chocolate melts in my mouth. It tastes divine compared to the plain hospital food. Inside of my mouth caramel bursts out of the chocolate shell. It tastes so good. I feel safe. It feels like everything turned out perfectly. I am safe. I give my dad a hug. Tears trickle down my check. God saved me from this whole ordeal.  He lets me go reluctantly. He never wants anything like this to happen ever again. He has been with nearly every second. He told he felt like it was his fault what happened. But reassured him it wasn’t. I blame myself for being oblivious for not paying attention.
My dad leaves the room. He is gone for some while maybe and hour or so. He comes back with something wrapped in  pink wrapping paper.
“Back,” he says.
I smile. He hands me the package. I rip it open it is a book my one of my favorite authors. I hug the book to me.
“You did not have to. Thanks so much, dad.”
“ It is for you to read while you’re getting better. After that we can go home and go to your favorite ice cream Shoppe.  You can have as much ice cream as you want,” he states.
I just grin. I give him a hug. I fall deep into the book. I love the action. My dad just sits in the chair nearest the bed and reads a biography. In some parts of the book I my mouth is wide open. I finish the book in a day. My dad gets me another.
With reading, writing, and talking the hospital stay of a week goes by very quickly. I am getting better. I will still need antibiotic for two more weeks the. My dad has to fill out tons of paper work to get me discharged.  The investigator returns to ask me a few more questions before I am discharged.
“Hello, I hope you are feeling better.”
“I am much better.”
“I just have a few questions to ask you. Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Have any names come back?”
“Yes a few. I remember there was an agent name Tihalov. I also remember the name of the warehouse. It was called Arabo’s candy factory. I don’t remember anything else.”
“Do you recall anything that was unique to your surroundings?”
“Let me think… Well the van was a dark van. It was a… I don’t even remember who kidnapped me. I blacked out. The hand had a black glove on it. They were masked from head to toe. I blacked out. I don’t remember anything until the room. I’ll try to think harder,” I pause, “I remember the name was Bobo ram. No!! Boko bram. Not that either.”
“Do you think it was Boko Haram?”
“Yes, that was it. Has my father being investigating them or something?”
“Yes, he has. I can tell you no more the rest is top secret information. Are you absolutely sure you don’t remember any other details?”
“Yes, I am. But I will make sure you know first thing if I remember anything else.”
“Okay, Thank you. Get well please,” she gives me a sympathetic smile.
My father is almost finish the paper work. I gather all my books. My father carries the teddy bears. I carry the cars and books. I walk slowly out of the hospital. I smile at the sun. My father points to the car. I smile at him.
I hear three bullet shots. My dad drops to the ground.  The bears fall to the ground. There are snipers on the top of the hospital. I hold his head. I embrace his dying body.
He gasps, “GO! RUN! I love you, Acacia.”
I am crying, “ Don’t go. You’re all I have left. NO! NO! NO!”
Tears run down my face. Blood is everywhere. It is all over my shirt. He coughs up blood. Then he stops breathing. I beat on his chest. I scream, “ NO!! NO!!”
I run towards the hospital for help but another four shots ring out. I am knocked to the ground. I guess this is what dying feels like. I feel a peace that passes all understanding. Even though I am drowning in my own blood, I smile. I am not panicked. I see a glimpse of heaven my father is already there. I gasp chocking.  I close my eyes. Soon I will be drowning in God’s glory. My last though is THE WALK… THE WALK HOME TO BE WITH MY FATHER IN HEAVEN.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

ISIS Crisis

isis_flagAnother Life has been lost from the terrible organization known as ISIS. ISIS will not cease committing these terrible crimes. This list continues to grow as more people are savagely beheaded by this "Muslim" terrorist organization. But to fully understand the ISIS crisis we must understand the background behind it.
"
Principally, Isis is the product of a genocide that CONTINUED unabated as the world stood back and watched. It is the illegitimate child born of pure hate and pure fear – the result of 200,000 murdered Syrians and of millions more displaced and divorced from their hopes and dreams. Isis's rise is also a reminder of how Bashar al-Assad's Machiavellian embrace of al-Qaida would come back to haunt him.
Facing Assad's army and intelligence services, Lebanon's Hezbollah, Iraq's Shia Islamist militias and their grand patron, Iran's Revolutionary Guards, Syria's initially peaceful protesters quickly became disenchanted, disillusioned and disenfranchised – and then radicalised and violently militant." From The Guardian.
This gives us a little bit of understanding of ISIS. Now that you are equiped with more knowledge. Was it a good decision for war to be declared against ISIS? Is it a loosing battle like the war on terrorism?

Comment!!!
Thanks For Reading
For more Information read these articles:
http://www.cnn.com/2015/01/31/middleeast/isis-japan-jordan-hostages/index.html
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/aug/22/syria-iraq-incubators-isis-jihad