Nubian Quotes

I AM come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion. Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence--whether much that is glorious--whether all that is profound--does not spring from disease of thought--from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable", and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi". We will say then, that I am mad.

They are me, these women. They are the ones who taught me to see; I taught me to see. They, we, are the ones healing the Ginen story, fighting to destroy that cancerous trade in shiploads of African bodies that ever demands to be fed more sugar, more rum, more Nubian gold.

Must look into the botanical background of substance known as hashish," I jotted in my journal, writing by the light of candles that grew incessantly jewel-like even as protean wafts of incense approached my snout like platters of ripe fruits borne on the back of Nubian pages.

before God was conceived of in his masculine forms that are known in the world today, God was, primarily a woman.

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.

the word Nubian is rooted in the Metu Neter. Nub is symbolized by the sun on the horizon and means: “gold, gold of the water, gold dug out of a mine, Nubian gold, Golden One (a name of the Sun Neter), to work in gold, to smelt metals.

Queen Elizabeth I of England possessed a slave ship by the name “the good ship Jesus” that she allowed Captain John Hawkins to utilize for the purpose of enslaving Africans.

the true purpose of education is to teach you how to become a proper handler of power. Whenever a person’s education fails to do this it is useless.

These traditions were adopted from the people of the Nile Valley by the Hebrews, eventually embraced by the Christians and woven into the Gospels.

The further back you look the further forward you’ll be able to see.

If you knew you were here 4,000,000 years ago you would never let a European or an African tell you that the creation of everything in the universe occurred 6,000 years ago.

Afrikan people can go to school, be misinformed, and not even realize that they are caught in a trap designed by the evil genius of the European mind.

The goal of tattooing was never beauty. The goal was change. From the scarified Nubian priests of 2000 B.C., to the tattooed acolytes of the Cybele cult of ancient Rome, to the moko scars of the modern Maori, humans have tattooed themselves as a way of offering up their bodies in partial sacrifice, enduring the physical pain of embellishment and emerging changed beings.

Our Nubian ancestors were the custodians, protectors, preservers and teachers of everything good that has been associated with Kemet. All conquerors and oppressors know that they cannot oppress a culturally and politically conscious people. What’s more important is that you realize it and always strive to uplift the community of self and then your respective family and community at large.

Black Diamonds Black gemstones pillaged from Mother Earth and mined from Kemet, Crystallized into rare gems under centuries of pressure. Yet, clarity remains pure under the brutal heat of history And the alluvial mining along the coastlines of black beaches. Whitewashing while extracting Nubian gems from sable sands, Twelve million carats separated from the soil of black lands.

March 22nd marks the day when the sun, traversing its apparent path along the ecliptic, “passes over” the celestial equator at the vernal (spring) equinox, and the length of day and night are equal.

Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence—whether much that is glorious—whether all that is profound—does not spring from disease of thought—from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their grey visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awaking, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however rudderless or compassless, into the vast ocean of the 'light ineffable' and again, like the adventurers of the Nubian geographer, 'agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.

Metu Neter language which translates as “the Writings or words of God.” In this day and age, the language is more commonly referred to as “hieroglyphics,” (hiero = holy or sacred) + (glyphs = carvings or writings).

In their places of worship, most Blacks are confronted every Sunday with early Renaissance portraits of Christ, a white deity, and a form of spirituality which theoretically and historically has little direct relevancy to their unique heritage and original Afrikan belief systems.

Asia so degraded, so corrupted by the colonial era and by its own crowdedness that it can only choose between depravity and the puritan orgy of communIsm. The women of Thailand are so beautiful that they have become the hostesses of the Western world, sought after and desired everywhere for their grace, which is that of a submissive and affectionate femininity of nubile slaves - now dressed by Dior - an astounding sexual come-on in a gaze which looks you straight in the eye and a potential acquiescence to your every whim. In short, the fulfilment of Western man's dreams. Thai women seem spontaneously to embody the sexuality of the Arabian Nights, like the Nubian slaves in ancient Rome. Thai men, on the other hand, seem sad and forlorn; their physiques are not in tune with world chic, while their women's are privileged to be the currently fashionable form of ethnic beauty. What is left for these men but to assist in the universal promotion of their women for high-class prostitution?

The traumatic aspect of drinking ayahuasca is that in order to heal yourself, you must first confront the wound; by forcing you to deal with your own inner garbage, ayahuasca shows you things about yourself that you might not want to see. I wish that a whole country could drink ayahuasca—not merely every individual citizen of a country, but the country itself, the spirit of the country. I wish that a flag could drink ayahuasca, that we could just fold the Stars and Stripes into the shape of a cup, pour in the tea, and transport Uncle Sam into another dimension. He’d have to fight his way out of some nightmares, but he’d be cleansed. What would he find? William S. Burroughs wrote that when you drink ayahuasca, “The blood and substance of many races, Negro, Polynesian, Mountain Mongol, Desert Nomad, Polyglot Near East, Indian—new races as yet unconceived and unborn, combinations not yet realized—pass through your body.” When Burroughs drank, he actually saw himself transformed into both a black man and a black woman. What if some freedom-hating narcoterrorists snuck into the Fox News studios and put ayahuasca in Sean Hannity’s coffee, just before he went live? What would be the day’s fair and balanced news for America? If America drank ayahuasca and then withdrew into the filthy pit of its own heart, confronting all its fears and hate and finally purging itself of that negative energy, maybe America would come out Muslim: sucked through a black hole by the Black Mind, young Latter-Day Saint crackers with smooth cheeks, short-sleeved white shirts, and name tags confront nightmarish visions of getting swallowed whole by giant grotesque “Jolly Nigger” coin banks and then find themselves vomited back up as Nubian Islamic Hebrews in turbans and robes selling incense on the subways. The “God Hates Fags” pastor, eyes wild with a new passion for Allah, boards a helicopter to drop thousands of Qur’ans upon the small towns below. I want to see ayahuasca’s vine goddess clean out America’s poison. But what would happen if a religion could drink the vine? What if I poured ayahuasca into my Qur’an?

To begin with, although one of the definitions of the word ‘Hotep’ is peace, it is not merely a universal greeting. It is a word associated with recognizing that there is a Creative Force imminent in all things, most importantly ourselves, and drawing from this force that exists within, as taught by our predecessors, rather than seeking refuge in foreign God concepts that have only served to divide, subdue and pacify us individually and collectively, which ultimately has stagnated our spiritual, cultural and political solidarity.

When the Europeans rose into power between the 15th and the 19th century, they embarked on a campaign to control the land, labor, resources and information of the world. This is why Afrikan people can go to school, be misinformed, and not even realize that they are caught in a trap designed by the evil genius of the European mind. And any Afrikan who thinks that the former slave master and current oppressor will provide their former slaves with the tools necessary to become independent are just as naive as they were designed to be.

You see,” resumed Laura, “I really have some grounds for supposing that my next incarnation will be in a lower organism. I shall be an animal of some kind. On the other hand, I haven’t been a bad sort in my way, so I think I may count on being a nice animal, some thing elegant and lively, with a love of fun. An otter, perhaps.” “I can’t imagine you as an otter,” said Amanda. “Well, I don’t suppose you can imagine me as an angel, if it comes to that,” said Laura. Amanda was silent. She couldn’t. “Personally I think an otter life would be rather enjoyable,” continued Laura; “salmon to eat all the year around, and the satisfaction of being able to fetch the trout in their own homes without having to wait for hours till they condescend to rise to the fly you’ve been dangling before them; and an elegant svelte figure—” “Think of the otter hounds,” interposed Amanda, “how dreadful to be hunted and harried and finally worried to death!” “Rather fun with half the neighbourhood looking on, and anyhow not worse than this Saturday-to-Tuesday business of dying by inches; and then I should go on into something else. If I had been a moderately good otter I suppose I should get back into human shape of some sort; probably something rather primitive—a little brown, unclothed Nubian boy, I should think.

Yes, monsieur, I believe so; for until now, no man has found himself in a position similar to mine. The dominions of kings are limited either by mountains or rivers, or a change of manners, or an alteration of language. My kingdom is bounded only by the world, for I am not an Italian, or a Frenchman, or a Hindu, or an American, or a Spaniard—I am a cosmopolite. No country can say it saw my birth. God alone knows what country will see me die. I adopt all customs, speak all languages. You believe me to be a Frenchman, for I speak French with the same facility and purity as yourself. Well, Ali, my Nubian, believes me to be an Arab; Bertuccio, my steward, takes me for a Roman; Haydée, my slave, thinks me a Greek. You may, therefore, comprehend, that being of no country, asking no protection from any government, acknowledging no man as my brother, not one of the scruples that arrest the powerful, or the obstacles which paralyze the weak, paralyzes or arrests me. I have only two adversaries—I will not say two conquerors, for with perseverance I subdue even them,—they are time and distance. There is a third, and the most terrible—that is my condition as a mortal being. This alone can stop me in my onward career, before I have attained the goal at which I aim, for all the rest I have reduced to mathematical terms. What men call the chances of fate—namely, ruin, change, circumstances—I have fully anticipated, and if any of these should overtake me, yet it will not overwhelm me. Unless I die, I shall always be what I am, and therefore it is that I utter the things you have never heard, even from the mouths of kings—for kings have need, and other persons have fear of you. For who is there who does not say to himself, in a society as incongruously organized as ours, 'Perhaps some day I shall have to do with the king's attorney'?

And it is through their contact with Kemet that the nations of Greece and Rome became civilized. The knowledge of this is what led the academic hypocrites of the western world to advance the claim that the civilization of Kemet was the product of an Asiatic or European foundation. At the time when these lies were growing popular in the 18th and the 19th century, Afrikans the world over were experiencing the dehumanizing effects of the European slave trade. So from the racist Eurocentric point of view that was prevalent during that epoch, it would have been against their conniving capitalist interests to reveal that this great civilization was established by the same people that they reduced in their minds to being subhuman. The rationale that fueled this propaganda was based on the assumption that the Europeans could not successfully enslave the Afrikans and recognize their history at the same time because they would also have to recognize their humanity. As a result of this, the Afrikan contributions to civilization were suppressed and institutional racism was born.

Liberians love to laugh and they also enjoyed to party. In fact, partying was actually a Liberian Government function and they loved to party in a grand way using any excuse. Usually these dances were for the Americo-Liberians, Ambassadors and other big shots. For me it was fun and a way to hob-nob with the powers to be in Liberia and since everything was on the house, it only sweetened the responsibility. That's where I met Zahra... Zahra was stunningly beautiful and was truly a Nubian Princess. She had just returned from a beauty pageant in the United States, where she had represented her country. I really don’t know if she was a Miss Liberia but she could well have been. She didn’t win the International Crown but was one of the top finalists and I could readily see why. Liberia was always proud of their entries and made a big thing of beauty pageants on a local scale….

On 22 July 1946, the Irgun, disguised as Arabs and hotel staff in Nubian costumes, stowed milkchurns filled with 500 pounds of explosives in the basement.23

While the rest of the band was being a storm, she was the sun busting through thick, gray clouds. With the first thing she sang, you had to wonder why this band was called Herman E. Calloway and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression, or Herman E. Calloway and the Nubian Knights, it should be called Miss Thomas and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression and a Mean Old Guy on the Giant Fiddle.

The New Testament has been preserved in more manuscripts than any other ancient work of literature, with over 5,800 complete or fragmented Greek manuscripts catalogued, 10,000 Latin manuscripts and 9,300 manuscripts in various other ancient languages including Syriac, Slavic, Gothic, Ethiopic, Coptic, Nubian, and Armenian. The dates of these manuscripts range from c. 125 (the

The New Testament has been preserved in more manuscripts than any other ancient work of literature, with over 5,800 complete or fragmented Greek manuscripts catalogued, 10,000 Latin manuscripts and 9,300 manuscripts in various other ancient languages including Syriac, Slavic, Gothic, Ethiopic, Coptic, Nubian, and Armenian. The dates of these manuscripts range from c. 125 (the

The New Testament has been preserved in more manuscripts than any other ancient work of literature, with over 5,800 complete or fragmented Greek manuscripts catalogued, 10,000 Latin manuscripts and 9,300 manuscripts in various other ancient languages including Syriac, Slavic, Gothic, Ethiopic, Coptic, Nubian, and Armenian.

the great maritime city of Asiatic Ionia, was of old the meeting-place of the East and the West. Here the Phoenician trader from the Baltic would meet the Hindu wandering to Intra, from Extra, Gangem; and the Hyperborean would step on shore side by side with the Nubian and the Aethiop.

Your book about collective hysteria—can I borrow it? I’ll send it back from France very soon.” The Nubian nodded. Sharko thanked him warmly. Then he left him there, in the middle of that poverty that no one gave a damn about.

Who does it belong to?” I wondered. Before Ghali could reply, the Nubian gentleman jumped into the driver’s seat and was searching for something in the glove box. "He is a business associate of Hakim. He owns several oil rigging enterprises in the Emirates and in the United States." "I see! He sure has great taste, at least when it comes to cars." I commented. Just then Ghali was called away to meet other arriving guests; I was left with the black man who now carried an elaborately wrapped gift under his left arm. "I believe we have not met. You are?” he asked, extending his hand to shake mine. "Hello Sir! I am Young, a student from England. The Hadrah has very kindly taken me and my guardian, Andy, into his Household. It’s part of an exchange program, through our school." The gentleman said, "So nice to meet you. I hope to make the acquaintance of your guardian." "I'm sure you will. He is probably looking for me as we speak. Andy doesn't like me out of his sight for too long.” "Understandable. Shall we head in, and join the other guests?” He guided my arm as we proceeded toward the mansion.

After the delicious lunch and a delightfully friendly conversation, I did not see the Nubian and his girlfriend again until after Andy returned from Italy. It was then that the truth came out about the gorgeous Kismat’s unique ways.

Sex with a transsexual was not my lover's forte, nor was it mine. I enjoyed Nirob’s masculinity, and scent. I secretly wished for a three-way with Andy and the Nubian.

The goal of tattooing was never beauty. The goal was change. From the scarified Nubian priests of 2000 B.C., to the tattooed acolytes of the Cybele cult of ancient Rome, to the moko scars of the modern Maori, humans have tattooed themselves as a way of offering up their bodies in partial sacrifice, enduring the physical pain of embellishment and emerging changed beings. Despite

Who is the handsome black man you were standing with?” “He says he is a business associate of the Hadrah." "What’s his name?" My Valet enquired. I just looked at Andy blankly. I hadn’t a clue. “The Nubian?” I framed my response as a question.

A few glasses of champagne later, our friend began kissing his girlfriend on her lips and neck. Soon her dress was half way down her waist showing off her voluptuous breasts. As Nirob continued his sensual foreplay, Andy and I were getting aroused.  We started our own love game, right next to the couple. I could feel my lover’s excitement as he kissed me, while watching the erotic heterosexual scene unfold before us. The Nubian eased off his girlfriend's panties. ‘She’ had an engorged penis pointing upwards, instead of a wet vagina waiting for attention.

Dr. John G. Jackson quotes Kenneth R.H. Mackenzie as follows: “From the woolly texture of the hair, I am inclined to assign to the Budda of India, the Fuhi of China, the Sommanoacom of the Siamese, the Xaha of the Japanese, and the Quetzalcoatl of the Mexicans, and the same, and indeed an African, or rather ‘Nubian’ origin.” Most of these black gods were regarded as crucified saviours who died to save mankind by being nailed to a cross, or tied to a tree with arms outstretched as if on a cross, or slain violently in some other manner. Of these crucified saviors, the most prominent were Osiris and Horus of Egypt, Krishna of India, Mithra of Persia, Quetzalcoatl of Mexico, Adonis of Babylonia and Attis of Phrygia. Nearly all of these slain savior-gods have the following stories related about them: They are born of a virgin, on or near December 25th (Christmas); their births are heralded by a star; they are born either in a cave or stable; they are slain, commonly by crucifixion; they descend into hell, and rise from the dead at the beginning of Spring (Easter), and finally ascend into heaven. The parallels between the legendary lives of these pagan messiahs and the life of Jesus Christ as recorded in the BIBLE are so similar that progressive Bible scholars now admit that stories of these heathen have been woven into the life-story of Jesus.

The Psalms of the Bible are said to have been authored by David, but there are portions of it that are virtually identical to portions of Amenhotep IV’s Hymn to Aten.

When I was in America, everything was about color. Where you could eat. Where you had to ride. Where you could live or sleep. When I got back to Egypt, I couldn’t believe I’d not noticed it before. With my friends, my family. In the Alexandria EFS, none of the officers were darker than me. At our protests, Nubian

I’ve learned to always be ready to be disappointed by white people. Doesn’t always happen, but when it does, it don’t shock me anymore. You ain’t the worst I’ve had to deal with,” Ike said. Buddy Lee ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “I ain’t trying make no excuses, but when you grow up around people—your aunts and uncles, your grandparents, your brothers and sisters, your friends—all of them saying things that you don’t even think about being wrong or right, you don’t put that title on yourself. Like you remember when they used to play The Ten Commandants on television every Easter? And there’s this part where this boy tells his granddaddy to look at the Nubians? My granddaddy on my mama’s side would always make this joke about them not being Nubians, they just, well, you know what he said. And I used to laugh at that joke because it was my granddaddy saying it. I never thought, I never had to think how somebody like you would feel about that joke. Then when I got older I stopped thinking about it, because if that joke was fucked up, then what did that say about my granddaddy? What did that say about me that I laughed at it?” Buddy Lee said.

The goal of tattooing was never beauty. The goal was change. From the scarified Nubian priests of 2000 B.C., to the tattooed acolytes of the Cybele cult of ancient Rome, to the moko scars of the modern Maori, humans have tattooed themselves as a way of offering up their bodies in partial sacrifice, enduring the physical pain of embellishment and emerging changed beings. Despite the ominous admonitions of Leviticus 19:28, which forbade the marking of one’s flesh, tattoos had become a rite of passage shared by millions of people in the modern age—everyone from clean-cut teenagers to hard-core drug users to suburban housewives. The act of tattooing one’s skin was a transformative declaration of power, an announcement to the world: I am in control of my own flesh. The intoxicating feeling of control derived from physical transformation had addicted millions to flesh-altering practices . . . cosmetic surgery, body piercing, bodybuilding, and steroids . . . even bulimia and transgendering. The human spirit craves mastery over its carnal shell.

Objects recovered have been identified as ‘Egyptian, Nubian, Assyrian, Babylonian, Cypriot, Mycenaean, Italian, Balkan, and Baltic

BA Nubian Princess Zahra for a young man, Liberia was exciting, but it was also an outright dangerous place to be. It wasn’t only the dangerous situations that could present themselves, such as suddenly being confronted by gangs or petty criminals on the streets or along the roads between villages. There were also natural dangers that could run the gamut from snake bites to being attacked by wild animals. I constantly heard stories, told to me by my crew members, of friends, family and neighbors being seriously hurt or killed in the bush. When I was born in 1934 my life expectancy was 59.3 years. When I came to Liberia the average life expectancy in Liberia was 33.1 years. Now in the United States it is 78.5 years and in Liberia it is 62.9 years. Things have improved in both countries, but at my “advanced age” I consider myself very fortunate. Regardless of the severity of the obvious dangers in Liberia, the greatest danger is still what could come from not understanding the tribal rules based on long held traditions, which were both secular and religious in nature. Fooling around with the local women might be a nice way to spend an afternoon or evening but the ramifications could be costly, dangerous or even deadly! It wouldn’t even matter if the flirtation had been started by the girl, or let’s say woman, because Liberia’s women don’t remain girls very long. But, the memories of their families are long-lasting!

All in all, ethnic and religious and color prejudice existed in the ancient world. Constructions of races—White Europe, Black Africa, for instance—did not, and therefore racist ideas did not. But crucially, the foundations of race and racist ideas were laid. And so were the foundations for egalitarianism, antiracism, and antislavery laid in Greco-Roman antiquity. “The deity gave liberty to all men, and nature created no one a slave,” wrote Alkidamas, Aristotle’s rival in Athens. When Herodotus, the foremost historian of ancient Greece, traveled up the Nile River, he found the Nubians “the most handsome of peoples.” Lactantius, an adviser to Constantine I, the first Christian Roman emperor, announced early in the fourth century: “God who creates and inspires men wished them all to be fair, that is, equal.” St. Augustine, an African church father in the fourth and fifth centuries, maintained that “whoever is born anywhere as a human being, that is, as a rational mortal creature, however strange he may appear to our senses in bodily form or colour or motion or utterance, or in any faculty, part or quality of his nature whatsoever, let no true believer have any doubt that such an individual is descended from the one man who was first created.” However, these antislavery and egalitarian champions did not accompany Aristotle and St. Paul into the modern era, into the new Harvard curriculum, or into the New England mind seeking to justify slavery and the racial hierarchy it produced.

Yet Nubians are frequently found in the very highest posts of the army, and commanding and leading white men. Some of our American friends at Constantinople, who came from slave-holding states, were at first much perplexed at finding that "niggers" could be majors, colonels, generals, great pashas; and I believe they never got quite reconciled to a very common sight-a jet-black, hideously-faced Nubian officer, with an embroidered coat and a diamond nishan, riding in great pride and stateliness through the streets, followed by two or more white servants running on foot. This seemed to them a turning of the world upside down.

We wander through Art of the Ancient World, past a Babylonian lion, Estruscan urns, an enameled Nubian bracelet, body parts fro Greek statues: a sandaled foot, a muscular male bum with one thigh. It's good to see art, to remember what a natural human impulse it has always been. We move into Art of Europe, the haloes and angels, the sacred birth and bloody murder of one man over and over, a whole continent possessed by one story for centuries.