"INTERRELATED"...THE MLK STORY

“All life is interrelated; somehow we're caught in an inescapable network of mutuality tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. You can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality”.

A humanitarian in all ramifications, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. never kept quiet in the face of injustice. He was born on January 15, 1929, in Atlanta, Georgia, to Reverend Martin Luther King, Sr. and Alberta Williams King. His legal name at birth was "Michael King"; his father, who changed his own name from Michael to Martin Luther, later said that the name Michael was recorded incorrectly. Martin, Jr., was a middle child, between an older sister, Willie Christine King, and a younger brother, Alfred Daniel Williams King.

Growing up in Atlanta, King attended Booker T. Washington High School. A precocious student, he skipped both the ninth and the twelfth grade and entered Morehouse College at age fifteen without formally graduating from high school. In 1948, he graduated from Morehouse with a Bachelor of Arts degree in sociology, and enrolled in Crozer Theological Seminary in Chester, Pennsylvania, from which he graduated with a Bachelor of Divinity degree in 1951. King married Coretta Scott, on June 18, 1953, on the lawn of her parents' house in her hometown of Heiberger, Alabama. They became the parents of four children; Yolanda King, Martin Luther King III, Dexter Scott King, and Bernice King.

In 1954, Martin Luther King became pastor of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. Always a strong worker for civil rights for members of his race, King was, by this time, a member of the executive committee of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the leading organization of its kind in the nation. He was ready, then, early in December, 1955, to accept the leadership of the first great

...........IN SERVICE TO HUMANITY...........

BLESSED TERESA OF CALCUTTA
“whole hearted service to the poorest of the poor”

Severally, I have found myself pondering over the enigmatic words of Rabindranath Tagore, The great Indian poet who said “I slept and dreamt that life was joy, I awoke and saw that life was service, I acted and behold service was joy”. Overtime, I have come to realize that the greatest moments of our lives in which we find a compelling joy from within are the periods we spend in service to humanity.

What then can we say is the most significant achievement of a mortal post earth’s sojourn? Could it be quantified with the magnitude of wealth he accumulates, summed up by the number of prizes he wins, or allotted to the social recognition he gets? You answer that but before you do, read this!

“Poverty was not created by God, it is we who have caused it, you and I, through our egotism” those were the words of a woman that dedicated her entire life to give whole hearted and free service to the poorest of the poor. She, as well as Tagore viewed life from a common perspective- the magnifying lens of service.

Popularly known as Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu (gonxha meaning "rosebud" or "little flower" in Albanian) was born on 26th August 1910, but she considered 27th August, the day she was baptized, to be her "true birthday". She was born in Skopje, now capital of the Republic of Macedonia, but at the time part of the Ottoman Empire.
She was the youngest of the children of Nikollë and Dranafile Bojaxhiu (Bernai). Her father, who was involved in Albanian politics, died in 1919 when she was eight years old.  After her father's death, her mother raised her as a Roman Catholic, in her early years Agnes was fascinated by stories of the lives of missionaries and their service in Bengal, and by age 12 was convinced that she should commit herself to a religious life. Her final resolution was taken on 15 August 1928, while praying at the shrine of the Black Madonna of Letnice, where she often went on pilgrimage.

She left home at age 18 to join the Sisters of Loreto as a missionary and never again saw her

PROFILES-"THE ROSA PARKS STORY"

Rosa Louise McCauley Parks
"the first lady of civil rights", and "the mother of the freedom movement"

Do you believe in maintaining a negative status–quo or are you a fervent believer in hope for a revamp? Who says one can’t make a positive change? This is the story of a woman that endured adversity and consequently, engraved her name in the stones of eternity.

 "Y'all better make it light on yourselves and let me have those seats”. Three of them complied. Parks said, "The driver wanted us to stand up, the four of us. We didn't move at the beginning, but he says, 'Let me have these seats.' And the other three people moved, but I didn't. The black man sitting next to me gave up his seat. Parks moved, but toward the window seat; she did not get up to move to the re-designated colored section.

"Why don't you stand up?" Parks responded, "I don't think I should have to stand up." Blake called the police to arrest Parks. When recalling the incident for Eyes on the Prize, a 1987 public television series on the Civil Rights Movement, Parks said, "When he saw me still sitting, he asked if I was going to stand up, and I said, 'No, I'm not.' And he said, 'Well, if you don't stand up, I'm going to have to call the police and have you arrested.' I said, 'You may do that. That was the conversation that birthed the elated “Montgomery Bus Boycott” and chronicled an epoch of equality for the colored Americans.

Rosa Parks was born Rosa Louise McCauley in Tuskegee, Alabama, on February 4, 1913, to Leona (née Edwards) and James McCauley. She was of African, Cherokee-Creek and Scots-Irish ancestry. She was small as a child, suffering from poor health with chronic tonsillitis. As a little girl, these were her thoughts "I'd see the bus pass every day... But to me, that was a way of life; we had no choice but to accept what was the custom. The bus was among the first ways I realized there was a black world and a white world.” Did the status-quo

THE INDOMITABLE!

 When life stares hard at you in the face, do you stare back or simply flinch? The adversities of life are extremely disrespectful. They show up without notice and try to tear our dignity into shreds but there is yet a man that can weather the storms of life and come out unscathed. A giant not necessarily in the pounds he weighs or the feet he measures in height but him that has unraveled the secret weapons of life’s battles and has mastery in welding them. Such is the man that stands unflinchingly at the face of troubles and gives his challenges a long hard stare that eventually breaks into a chuckle when he emerges victorious. Today, I would like to share with you three weapons forged in eternity, in the presence of which despair disappears and only a song of victory is sure.

This event happened long before I was born and long before you let out your first shrill came this thunderous shrill in a hut in the distant land of “Arogbo”. Surrounded by the traditional midwife and experienced mothers was a set of triplet screaming in high pitch as euphoria took over the neighborhood. The long awaited birth had come and the gods had proven to be true for the compensation for an almost eternal delay was three healthy screaming boys. Kurokimi, the great warrior didn’t have to fret, he had beseeched the gods for a warrior but they had given him three. The drums were rolled out and the “ijaw-wuru” freely poured at every corner of the warriors’ compound, it was a great feast that lasted for three days and three nights. "Sui generis” indeed!

The gods bestowed rapid growth upon the triplet; they were bigger in stature than all their contemporaries and learnt the art of war as boys but the great warrior, with his wealth of experience soon fathomed out something by the help of the eye of the gods who lived in the mountains. The clairvoyant saw that the triplet would conquer great battles, bring down fortified kingdoms and reduce many a great kings into ordinary men. They would be known not just in their community but will be revered in distant lands. Their exploits would supersede their fathers’ and the spoils of their wars would be a city itself but they had to walk in circumspection and above all togetherness.
The eye of the gods proclaimed that as long as they stood together, there was no man born of a woman that could conquer them but woe betides them the day they go separately into battle. The great warrior was pleased and hurriedly left the presence of the clairvoyant who had not emptied all the words in his heart for in the spirit world, the boys had been given three unique names and their names were their weapons in the human world. Their father had not tarried to inquire the names of the eye of the gods.

Time passed in a blur, boys became teenagers and teenagers became full grown men, warriors. Kurokimi the great had begun to fade; his vision wasn’t as sharp or his grasp as firm. His ancestors came calling and time became a luxury. So, on a harmattan night, when the sound of the wind boisterously overwhelmed the song of the night owls, he sent for his sons. His intention palpably was to inculcate into them final values, bless them and bid them farewell.

His speech was concise and following words resonated through the howling of the harmattan wind “your doom lies in your division”. Shortly after, the great warrior left for the realm of the spirits. It was an abomination for the brave to shed tears. His sons, brave men, indulged no emotions and buried their father as tradition would demand a warrior be sent forth. A remarkable ceremony it was!
Thirty days passed and catastrophe struck, the town was being invaded by a coalition of warriors from the west and the north.

 Pandemonium took over, Kurokimi had just being buried and the entire town was still in mourning. The king immediately ordered for all the brave men to prepare for battle and meet the enemies at the gate before they infiltrated into the city. Kurokimi’s youngest son raised an argument at the king’s palace. It was tradition to mourn a deceased warrior for forty days or incur the wrath of the gods! Time had failed them the king announced; the city was under attack and would be taken in no time if a counter attack was not launched.

 Kurokimi’s third son further suggested that the city take to siege and complete the mourning period within the city walls. No enemy could break down the legendary walls he went on and after that, they could launch a full attack. An excruciating argument ensued amidst the warriors. There was an enormous division, a dissension that had gotten way out of reason. Logic had proven abortive and force was taking over. The king then moved for a vote, alas, it was in the disfavor of Kurokimi’s last son. The warriors were to match out at sundown into the valley that separated their city from the northern and western borders. They were to battle at dawn!

The last son objected obstinately, he told his brothers he would rather incur the wrath of the king than that of the gods. He was not matching out until he had given his father his well earned mourning rite.  The other brothers tried to convince him beyond all doubts but the young warrior was recalcitrant. Thirty one days after the death of Kurokimi, his sons went into battle not as the legendary trio but as two of three brave brothers. The brave two, blinded by patriotism, let their fathers warning fall to the wind and matched straight into their Waterloo dismissing their last brother as a Neanderthal.

The battle was fierce, the warriors fought gallantly but on the thirty eight day, they could not hold the line. The enemy had a huge stash of reinforcement but the army from Kurokimi’s city had lost many soldiers.