Who am I ? (31)

  “I cannot recall exactly when I believed in a parallel universe, where there was a person just like me, somewhere else. My twin brother was somewhere out there waiting for me. The thoughts had developed and sustained me. I was in fact living a dual life in the padded prison cell and somewhere in South Africa. I and my twin were suffering because of some great cataclysmic force that had happened and is still continuing now, I know it happened long before my birth, but when oh, when will it cease?” Leroy told Dr Wells. Leroy continued to utter inaudible sounds as he slipped off  the couch and rolled on the ground with his hands secured by the straight jacket, his head bobbed up and down like a caterpillar, of springtime
seeking something to satisfy its senses. Thoughts of hatred and of being watched filled his mind. He gathered himself in a heap and sat on his haunches staring up at the camera.

   “Why was I not born white, like Michael Jackson? Full of life with privileged hands stained with the blood of the savages that Darwin identified to be worthy of no life, worthy of not belonging to anything, anyone, anywhere. Nothing people, to be dislodged from their families, dislodged from the earth. Why must I be a victim devoured by monster cities that craves for blood sweat and taxes.” Leroy shouted.
  
   Wriggling on the rectangular floor, scientific facts and economic theories has dislodged me from civilisation, from the cattle that my ancestors once owned and the land of which they roamed.” Leroy fell to his knees pleading to the sterile lenses above his head as though beckoning to heaven. There was no response. To maintain further authenticity for a deeper form of  madness, Leroy would strip off all his clothes and walk through the dining area.

   “Oi naked kill, that’s what they call ya, naked kill . Mr Intellect did not know that did ya, smarty. ”The guards cursed as they fetched blankets to cover him.
    “Where is the tribe that I do not belong to going, where is their destiny in this great universe?”
   “Why oh why? Oh why? Oh why? Was I dislodged from my ancestors what crime did I commit what crime did my father commit? Why is it that I have a distinct Christian name with little meaning to any one, not even to me?  Who am I? Why is my soul so tortured for want of belonging somewhere to someone on this vast mass of land? I sing the songs of words that I cannot understand I hum the tunes plaintively asking God to bless Africa.