Hotep,
An ingrown toenail is a challenge that can make your daily
activities an excruciating experience. I
had a procedure done on my left foot – back in April of 2011. It took nearly two months for my foot to heal
completely. But now that I’m good, I
decided to go full throttle with my “Kunta Kinte Thing” (Running). So, on this first day of summer last year (6/21/11),
my biggest challenge was the torrid heat of June. Na mean?
I’m long overdue. The
temperature reached 95 degrees, but I was able to give my Creator 30
minutes. A wild fire in Pender County
had all of Raleigh gasping for air, including yours truly. The prison rec yard was literally
smoking. Real talk.
Now, it’s no secret that the “Kunta Kinte Thing” opens my
mental. As I bent the corners of the smoky
rec yard, I listened to Sheryl Crow sing about the beauty of a “Summer Day.”
Then I adjusted the dial to hear Rick Ross spit some “Mayback Music.” It was at that point that my thoughts went to
my man, Willie E. Fisher (D.O.E 3/9/01).
About a year before his execution, Fish and I discussed the
knowledge behind a condemned man’s last meal.
As the hours passed, we eventually concluded that the steak dinners, the
chitterlings, the cherry sodas, and the eloquently sliced cheesecake, is the
biggest slap in the face to a man clinging to his final hours of earthly
existence. Word is bond!
The state is meticulously arranging the final hours of your
life. They’re preparing to extinguish
your physical presence from the eyes of the people who love you the most. I guess the last meal is the state’s final
act of humanity, before committing the heinous and atrocious act of injecting
poison into the veins of another human being.
Closely watching their bodies convulse and gasp for breaths that no
longer exist. Then convince the public that
the condemned individual died a peaceful death.
Feel me?
Because of this, whenever I’m indirectly subjected to the
tunnel vision of individuals overly concerned about canteen items, or chow hall
servings. I’m inclined to believe that
they’re looking forward to getting that last meal, slap in the face, the state
of N.C. is more than willing to dish out; a special order of hopelessness. Ya heard?
Fish and I made a pact.
If we had to meet the fate of being executed, we would not give the
state the satisfaction of exhibiting this false sense of humanity. The special requested last meal bears no
honor for this death row prisoner. Word
is bond!
On March 9, 2001, Willie E. Fisher refused the “privilege”
of a personalized last meal. He ate the
same food as any other prisoner living in this facility. We were served fried chicken, collard greens
and sweet potatoes on this particular evening, but of course, the media
presented his last meal as a special request.
Fisher’s last meal was symbolic for the truth in his
words.
Not many people outside of these
walls knew about my pact with Fish.
Everything happens for a purpose.
My pact with Fish was meant to be served on this platform known as
“W.O.R.D. to the Masses.” It’s a cold
dish about the state’s patronization of human beings facing execution. A special meal doesn’t mollify the pain of
injustice. R.I.P. Fish.
Nuff Said,
MannofStat
Copyright © 2012 by Leroy Elwood Mann
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