TRIBUTE

I am blessed to see this day, I am cursed to see children malnurished away.
You know it betta, here in Amerikkka, that perfect health is a joksta.
Loving families,friends, and church goers pray for the hunger to end,
Supportive health programs are no more our
friends.
The City leaders need a hard hit in their chin
Why must children dig through garbage for food, this is America's sin.
The rich are phat on their Career, they got meningitis and can't hear.
They reside in good stable homes, while poor children live in sorrow and moan.
America has committed treason, that's why GKO chastized city council for being such weak sons.
Peace? Children don't have GKO for a hope of relief.  -poem by the delegate in memory of General Kabaka Oba (GKO). R.I.P.

Kabaka of Buganda - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Kabaka is the title of the king of Buganda. According to the traditions of the Baganda they are ruled by two kings, one spiritual and the other material. The spiritual, or supernatural, king is represented by the Royal Drums. These are regalia called Mujaguzo and, as they always exist, the Buganda at any time will always have a king. Mujaguzo, like any other king, has his own palace, officials, servants and palace guards.
 Oba (ruler) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Oba, (pronounced Or-ba, means King or ruler in the Yoruba language). Oba's are the traditional heads of Yoruba settlements. The Yoruba word, 'oba', has also been adopted by some non-Yoruba ethnic groups. Yoruba settlements are often composed of of three main generations:-The first generation is made up of founding towns and cities of the origin or capitals of Yoruba states/kingdoms. The second generation is those created by conquest, diaspora or/and resettlement. The third generation is those that emerged after the Yoruba wars.


Tribute to a Black Soldier
By James Clingman


Kabaka Oba died April 15 in Cincinnati, after being shot five times three days earlier in front of City Hall. In broad daylight, around 3 p.m., after addressing the City Council, "the General," as he was called, was sitting in his car when six or seven shots rang out. Gravely wounded but still able to identify his assailant to police officers, Kabaka fought for his life; but finally he succumbed.
Just a week prior to his death, General Kabaka was memorializing Timothy Thomas, the young Black man killed by a police officer in Cincinnati five years ago whose death spawned civic unrest and a boycott of Cincinnati. Kabaka abhorred and fought unceasingly against police brutality — his mission, he called it — and spoke out against it and on other issues in support of Black people.
He demonstrated against the Klan when it made its annual pilgrimage to Cincinnati during the Christmas holidays; he went to City Council meetings for at least five years straight to protest the inequities that exist in this city. He addressed the county commissioners as well, relentless in his determination to speak truth to power. Kabaka was not a perfect man, but how many of us are prepared to throw the first stone at him? He had his warts, like we all do, but he wore his compassion for his people right over his heart, for all to see. There was nothing he would not do in support of Black people. That kind of personality will always create enemies, of course; but Kabaka understood and dealt with the reality and the possibility that he would be harmed in some way.
Who would have ever thought that a Black man would be accused of killing Kabaka Oba? But then again, who would have thought a Black man would have killed Malcolm X? Of course, the White media had a field day with this tragedy, mainly because of its animus for Kabaka and what he stood for. On many occasions, they resorted to that old stand-by of calling him a racist and a hater of all police officers and other ethnic groups. They called him anti-Semitic as well, the tried and true way of raising ire against a Black man.
But no matter the names he was called, no matter the accusations, no matter the persecution, Kabaka continued to smile and stay on the course he had charted. He continued to help others, to protect others, and to comfort others, despite the personal battles he had to fight along the way.
Ironically, Kabaka's death is grounded in one of the issues for which he fought, an issue for which the boycott of Cincinnati was called. Economic exclusion has been the bane of Cincinnati for many years. Through blatant discrimination and collusion, Black people have been excluded from the real economic benefits of public and private development projects. The rift between Kabaka and his accused killer, as the story is told, resulted from economic issues — a boycott and a picket line.
How ironic it is that a Black soldier, committed to fighting for economic justice for his people, is killed because of an unrelated economic issue that he was accused of causing. And even more ironic, if the primary problem of economic apartheid in the city of Cincinnati had been solved, the nonsensical secondary economic issue that led to Kabaka's death would not have existed. We created a new problem by not fixing the original problem. If we, Black folks, had been collectively "fighting the power" instead of individually fighting one another, Kabaka might be alive today.
What does that say about us as role models to our children? What will that do to stop our youths from killing one another? Two Black families are suffering now, at the loss of two Black men. We are literally killing ourselves and our families. How are we ever going to reach our children, if we continue such inappropriate behavior as adults?
Why does someone always have to die before we get serious about taking care of our business? Much of Black Cincinnati is now in mourning; we hear all the condolences being conveyed on the radio. How long will that last? Is it that we just love to pay tributes to people who have died? Everything we are saying now about Kabaka should have been said to him, not to one another. I feel good because I told him what I thought of his work; I gave him his flowers before he died.
I will end this column with a quote from my book Black-O-Knowledge, Stuff We Need to Know. It is an excerpt from “Compa$$ionate Capitali$m” by Ta-Nehisi Coates. "Forty years [after his death], it's easy to quote Malcolm and put him on a postage stamp — now that we've killed him. Martin Luther King Jr. was ultimately abandoned by the civil rights establishment for his stand against poverty and war. Today he has a national holiday, and even conservatives have to honor him — now that he's no longer here to shame them. Ditto for the Black Panthers. Everybody says their dad wore a black beret — now that J. Edgar Hoover isn't alive to tap their phones.”
Progressive vision almost always lacks mass appeal. While possibly enjoying a bit of rebellious sheen, prophetic insight is decidedly uncool; it involves the sacrifice of family livelihoods, the sullying of reputations, and, at worst, death. Only the afterglow is romantic. Everybody says they would have fought with Nat Turner — now that none of us are slaves.
Pray for Kabaka Oba’s family.
James E. Clingman, an adjunct professor in the University of Cincinnati's African American Studies Department, is former editor of the Cincinnati Herald newspaper and founder of the Greater Cincinnati African American Chamber of Commerce. He hosts the radio program ''Blackonomics'' and has written several books, To book Clingman for a speech or to purchase his books, go to his Web site, http://www.blackonomics.com/, or call him at 513-489-4132.