Speaking to a feverish and hungry audience on that end-of-days night, he with a certain sense of calm and yet very so much surreal and palpable anticipation, bellowed out with a profound wisdom and conviction only the Rev. (Dr.) Martin Luther King, Jr. could have: “. . .But I know somehow that only when it’s dark enough can you see the stars.” Thus with the ascension atop the ticket of any major political party in the United States of America in over 232 years of independence from the British, Barack Hussein Obama—an African American—jolts to immediate consciousness sentiments behind the very conviction made by the Rev (Dr.) King, Jr. on that night before a shot rang out in the Memphis sky on April 4, 1968. The achievement of Mr. Obama is without doubt the biggest, brightest, and most brilliant of stars in this very dark long night of the Negro man’s experience on American soil, which only makes this court-side seat more memorable than any of the eclipses.
Outside the perennial contenders of the Rev. Jesse Jackson, the Rev. Al Sharpton—and maybe Mr. Alan Keyes, the African-American grasps at the highest office in the land and arguably modern civilization, has been ridiculed with a whimsical sense of dismissal comparable only to the curse placed on Sisyphus by the Greek gods. You see, Sisyphus was compelled to roll a huge rock up a steep hill, but before he could reach the top of the hill, the rock would always roll back down again, forcing him to begin again—a grievous exercise in futility. While without doubt, the continual push up the hill in this very dark long night by the Negro people of America has to be commended, it’s hard to ignore the lives and properties that have been lost as a result.
Mr. Obama in the words of a cliché has done nothing short of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, in fact, that might very well be an understatement. With a name like Barack Hussein Obama, Mr. Obama was compelled to act as though skin color was not enough of an obstacle(after all, there have been so many Negro presidential nominees before him), having a name so foreign, strange, and unpopular to mind—showed who needs a name like Bill or Johnson after all. And defeating the presumed establishment candidate in the nomination ceremonies—Sen. Hillary Clinton—is nothing short of lore for the ages. As a black man, I always knew the road was tough, just never knew a tougher road could have been taken and subdued. Mr. Obama has wrought what no black man before him has, and it’s at this junction in the continuum of time, space, and forever you wonder, “Where’s the Rev. (Dr.) King, Jr.?
But before we get carried away, let’s not forget Sisyphus! Almost at the apex of this hill, at a moment when it’s been dark enough for as long as the Negro people of America can remember, Mr. Obama stands alone in this long night, with the huge rock propped against his chest, needing that final push—or forgiveness from the gods—to avoid the fate that has befallen his predecessors, irrespective of how far they came.