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Isaiah Jones vs the Sea: The Lonely Fiancée of the Emperor Jones pt 2*

May 6th, 2022, United States/San Diego, California

Isaiah Jones vs the Sea: “Pull up to the Bumper” pt 2* of the epilogue to the chapter “The Lonely Fiancée of the Emperor Jones pt 2*” from the novel

“Isaiah Jones versus the Sea (A 21st Century Odyssey)

…Calvin Ohene Mense, the ambassador’s PA / personal assistant, watched in silence as Her Excellency Bombay plugged in her earbuds and listened to the music on her iPhone as their limo motored towards the LA Hilton. Why he said that the black Americans were as African as a Mexican was a Spaniard, he did not know; he should have kept his thoughts to himself. There was an unspoken rivalry, even a jealousy of black americans by many Africans that they pretended did not exist in polite company. The overwhelming majority of blacks in america had no knowledge of until they spent time around peoples from African nations or encountered when they naively traveled to Africa, their heads filled with the white man’s foolish ideas about the dark continent. They, like their white countrymen, looked down on the peoples of Africa, or at least it was imagined that they did by the continent’s indigenous peoples. The Africans called them the black white man; they mocked them for having white names and never bothering to learn any of the over 2000 languages of their African ancestors.

The blacks in America subconsciously felt abandoned, as if they had been sold out by their own tribe. Their spirits ached with an ancient ancestral longing for connection, for redemption, for salvation in the motherland. He decided he had best google the meaning of the gold stripe on the suffragettes’ sash after the ambassador read him the riot act for his sexist outburst before she got really pissed off / POed and had him on the next flight back to Ghana after they returned to the embassy. Aha, “Purity.” Then he understood they were aligned with the KKK and white supremacy, eugenics, and the former first lady’s bragging of being “a proud Goldwater Girl” when she thought she was off-camera.

Purity, like Pride, was a racist code word, a symbol of white nationalism, a promise to use the white woman’s vote to continue the 4 centuries long European oppression against black peoples. Now, the modern feminist pretend not to remember that part of the story. They threw black women under the bus as they aligned themselves with the white power structure. That doesn’t look good in a contemporary cult of the victim biopic airing on Netflix.

He continued to read Professor Gerald Horne’s essays on the subject. The rest was just the usual white people fan fiction disguised as history. Patriarchy, intersectionalism, people of color, so much effort wasted on mental gymnastics to verbally sidestep speaking the truth. These American racists are in truly sad shape, he saw as he continued to read. No wonder his boss was about to fire him for putting black women in the same boat as the white American feminist; these were two completely separate struggles. He had always viewed the black Americans as weak, impure, and less black than Africans born in Africa.

Isaiah Jones could have given his general intelligence AI to the US government and they would have made him rich and famous, instead Isaiah chose to gift it to the leaders of the 54 nations of the continent of Africa and now 24 hours later the American government labeled Isaiah Jones a terrorist and had put a record 25 million dollar price on his head. He was beginning to see how wrong he was about “the lost ball,” Isaiah, and it was looking like he was just as wrong about his fiancée Aeon as well. He would apologize to her excellency, Ambassador Bombay, as soon as she finished listening to that old song on her earbuds and pray that she forgave him rather than have him replaced by the time they returned to DC.

Ghana’s secret service chief Virgil Majid’s Boateng’s would not look kindly on him if he had to be replaced and NIB / National Intelligence Bureau agents like Mister Boateng’s were not the sort of people you wanted to disappoint, with a few key strokes or single phone call Mister Boateng’s could have him spending the rest of his working life standing guard duty in a frozen wasteland like the Russian embassy freezing his coconuts off. The thought made him shudder with fear. my god, how he hated the cold.

Rule number 1 dumb ass, keep your damned mouth shut and your opinions to yourself. As he sat worrying the more he read, a link popped up on his phones DM/direct message it was from his boss sitting beside him in the back of the limousine ambassador Felicity Ayorkor Bombay before he opened it, he was certain it was a termination notice; instead, it was a gift, a book titled “the new Jim Crow: mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness” by a professor Michelle Alexander. He knew enough to know that “Jim Crow” was just the American word for “Apartheid”. He looked up, and the ambassador’s smile seemed to say perhaps there was hope for him after all. He downloaded the book immediately and began to read.

Chapter Post Script:

One hour later… Lake Nyanza aboard the SS Nea Ope Se Obedi Hene anchored at the intersection of Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania coordinates longitude and latitude 0°59’41.8″S 33°55’45.0″ E, 2 am an armed dingy motors to the 150 foot catamaran one uniformed Ghanaian soldier disembarks and makes his way up to the flybridge where Mister Virgil Boateng sits on a cushioned bench reading over a stack of dossiers, he has for his young charge to peruse the next day. They have a meeting with the 10 Warlords/ the ADF/ the African Defence Force, who were Africa’s joint chiefs of staff, as soon as he finishes his business here after his honeymoon is over.

The only pressing issues at the moment were the Indian PM was upset because they were not on the list of nations to receive the flash drive with the new general intelligence AI known as MOTHER while the Bejieng as usual were attempting to flex their muscles now in an attempt to negotiate for a better deal at the upcoming summit in Cairo. The Cuban friend of Isaiah’s, this spectre, a Senior Polly Ovejero aka the Albino, sent word that his people were in position in Cancun with eyes on Isaiah and Aeon’s parents as well as the foreign agents tailing them. The NIB security team at the San Diego, California marina reported all clear on his grandparents Hector’ and Areilla’s boat. The situation was under control.

The US consulate attaché’s message read simply, “She loved the ring, all is well.” Isaiah’s handler / PA NIB National Intelligence Bureau agent Virgil Boateng dismissed the courier as he lit another Cohiba and popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, saving the Remy Martin Louis XIII Black Pearl for when Isaiah joined him later. It was a small victory but reason enough to celebrate Mister Boateng’s reasoned as he popped the cork on another bottle of 1990 Dom Perignon.

Things were moving fast, while the young Emperor Jones had been worried about the royal wedding upsetting his American fiancée. The letter and ring had done the trick; she understood exactly what was going on and why, or at least as much as she needed to know. He filled a crystal Champagne glass and toasted the Emperor Jones beneath the light of a waxing crescent moon over the black waters of Lake Nyanza.

About the author

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals: Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, TX.