Hotep,
Look at me. What do
you see? Am I the ugliness within the
calamity that surrounds me, or the bitter pill a stranger swallows at the mere
mention of my name? I can’t make people
like me. I don’t have the Divine
authority to tell them what they should believe – concerning my walk through
this realm. I only ask that you look at
life through my eyes. Scope the scene of
life from the horizon of death.
Working for American Airlines made meeting celebrities an
every day habit. After a while, unless
someone announces Halle Berry’s presence on the concourse, or Muhammad Ali is
performing magic tricks at the baggage claim, it was just another day of
coordinating the luggage of complete strangers – in route to business trips and
family vacations.
I often wondered how they viewed the Mann handling their
baggage. Seeing some of these complete
strangers’ faces within the small windows of the plane encouraged me to view
the same surroundings through their eyes.
This exercise may seem weird at first, but I can assure you that you
will learn something new about yourself.
Here’s an example of how this works:
The death row housing unit hosts tour groups regularly. Seeing these tour groups from a distance
makes it difficult for me to interpret the tour guide’s (C.O.) instructions on
viewing my presence. This is when I go
into American Airlines mode.
Stepping into the existence of the tourist, I can hear the
corrections officer explaining the unit 3 habitats. His horrific accounts of crimes and
convictions come off as precautionary tales to the ill informed. But in reality, it is no more than a
self-serving need of injecting zest into an uneventful 12-hour shift.
As the tourist, I begin to look around this “pristine” $20
million facility – only to wonder why these “monsters” have it so good. Through my own eyes, I see this same tourist
as the potential for change. I see
family life. I can clearly see the
strides for a better way of living, and everything that makes this existence
worth appreciating.
The tourist within me begins to ask questions like: When was
the last execution? Why do they move
about so freely? How often do they
attack staff members? Looking through
the eyes of the tourist I can see my guide beginning to sweat, and stutter over
his words. None of his answers support
the grisly biographies of moments past.
I would then be inclined to question why I was instructed not to make
eye contact with these monstrosities underserving of humane interactions.
Then the inevitable happens; California vegetable soup, Dial
deodorant, Colgate toothpaste, and Lever – 2000 soap; all items that might be
on my own grocery-shopping list. This is
me making this simple canteen purchase.
I see myself greeting staff members without the slightest hint of a
grudge. I’m in awe of the fact we are so
much alike.
That is when I realize I’ve broken the cardinal rule; I am
making direct eye contact with myself. I
see a person dealing with a gruesome circumstance, and I just can’t turn
away. I don’t know what to say to the
“monster” that no longer exists.
Instead, I ask myself, “What does he think of me?”
My tour group walks past this person draped in a red
jumpsuit, as he gathers his purchased belongings. Looking in my direction, he greets the entire
group, “Good morning, People.” Not only I, but also the entire group responded
accordingly, “Good morning.”
Obviously the tour guide did not prep us for humanity in
such an environment, yet all of us felt a human vibe at that very moment –
orchestrated by someone deemed as a “monster.”
Look at me now. See
yourself within my humanity. It’s a
birthright to anyone touring this existence.
Much Love,
MannofStat
Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann
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