A Revolution On A Late Afternoon In September

My First Encounter with Occupation Wall Street was on the 24^th day of The Occupation. It’s now day 55, if my calendar is correct.

It was a warm early fall day when I arrived. Lingering in the air was the faint warmth of August past.

I had taken the subway from Brooklyn and emerged from the Underground at corner of Fulton and Broadway in lower Manhattan. The first thing I heard were the faint rumbles of war. I detected that the sound was coming from the south. I crossed Broadway to get to the other side of the street and headed in that direction. “All Day Every Day Occupy Wall Street” grew louder.

I advertently run right into the march of protestors. Before I knew it, I was marching along with them. I noticed the signs they carried. Some were made out of torn pieces of cardboard. Others were professional looking and graphically designed on art board. One read, “Art by Del La Vega”. On others were inspiring quotes that were made by Albert Einstein , Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther king, Jr.

In stride, I thought about the March on Washington, the protest against the War in Viet Nam, the Women’s Lib Movement, the Black Power Revolution, the Gay Rights Movement, the millions of us who witnessed the inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama, the First African American President of the United States of America and the millions that drew.

Finally, I detangled myself from the march. I stood in front St. Paul’s Chapel, were in 1766 General George Washington had once kneeled and prayed before going into battle.

From there, I zeroed in on a sign carried by one of the protesters that read: “I am hungry. I have no job. No place to live.” I was provoked to rush over to this young man. I shoved what was left of a bag of organic trail mix doused with Omega 3, I just happened to have in my bag. The expression on his face was priceless. Gratitude mixed in with shock.

Finally, I arrived to The Occupation of Wall Street site, in Liberty Plaza.  To my utter surprise the Protestors had settled in lock, stock and barrel. Some were laid out and dead to the world, napping under a canopy of sun-dappled leafy trees.

I noticed the proliferation of mattresses, blue large tarps laid out on the grass, cardboard boxes filled with blankets and quilts, leaning against tree trunks. Mounds   of donated used clothes piled up on the bare ground and gallons of water. A fully supplied pantry where volunteers were pouring dripping ladles filled with thick soup into the waiting cups of the Protesters. I saw a dirty hand plucking an original New York Bagels from a plastic bag. New-Age Hippies holding meditation circles under a tree.

This is America circa 2011.

Moi, Mahmoudah