Further, I am a fascinating character, personally. A hero by any standard, in fact, I challenge anybody to challenge the claim
I have stared down tanks (they looked away first
), I was once a prince 
, I led 200 Kamajors (mystical warriors) 
, the CIA tried to recruit me twice 
, and in 2008 I was exiled 
, but all that is just the tip of the iceberg I will share the first 2 chapters of My Story and encourage anybody who would like to chat to add me on skype...
al.haji.rasul.al.masiha
Chapter 1 - My Youth
Spoiler: i was born in 1973, at a u.s. army hospital at kitzigen germany. my father was a disabled vietnam vet, though despite his disability, he was a BEAST (and i have known many beasts now, even had the honor to lead them). my father was being diagnosed, treated, his disability % (and therefore his compensation) being evaluated. it was a long enough process for my mother to come, give birth to me, then leave him and return to the u.s.
my father was crazy in addition to his physical issues, she was right to leave him, even to leave me with him. i was the most precious thing in the world to him, the only thing holding him to this world, yet it was always very clear to everybody that he would have killed me in an instant, without a second thought, for reasons which made no sense to anybody but him.
if she stayed with him or tried to take me from him, he would have killed us all (himself included).
so they fixed his disability pension at what would today be about $1,000 a month, a very meager amount to try to scrape by, let alone raise a kid in america, but he could receive this anywhere in the world. he took me to rural sierra leone, makeni province. our village had about 1k pop and we had 2 neighboring villages of about the same size whose only connecting roads were footpaths.
we could have lived like kings, but my father had lost any value for material comforts and replaced it with a very deep regret for things he had done in vietnam. first he invested in raising the standard of living of our village to a level he could be comfortable at, which basically meant...
1. everybody ate
2. mud brick homes, no huts
3. pit toilets, no shitting in the river
4. a school
5. a library
when our village was being raised to this standard, he was becoming chief. when that was accomplished and the other 2 villages were raising to this standard, he became paramount chief.
Paramount Chief is a formal title created by British administrators during the 19th and 20th-century Colonial era and used in India, Africa and Asian colonies. They used it as a substitute for the word "king" to maintain that only the British monarch held that title.[1] Since the title "chief" was already used in terms of district and town administrators, the addition of "paramount" was made so as to distinguish between the ruling monarch and the local aristocracy.[1]
2 things to take from that, i was a prince of a kingdom with a pop of about 2.5k , and the western world requires centralized leadership of all nations, dealing with 1k chiefs rather than a president would be insane. but the reality was that the president was really only important in freetown. outside of the capitol, all power was localized, imagine the native american tribes for example. what chief spoke for every tribe? what tribal chief even spoke for an entire tribe? the real leadership was right there, not some far off place, though there was always a struggle, western powers trying to consolidate our power, force us to be the nation they had drawn up on their maps.
regardless, my childhood was disneyesque in africa. by the time i was 4 and my memories begin, i was not even just any prince. i never recall any child starving in my kingdom, though apparently it happened before my father came. by the time my memories start, hunger had been eliminated in our kingdom, in rural africa, this alone made us rare. the fact we were led by white americans ofc made us unique. at 4 years old my kingdom seemed huge, to walk it would take me all day, it was much more than all i could see from any mountain-top. but the disney part is this...
i had no mother in africa, where the village raises every child, and a crazy father to boot. if a female stranger is older than you, no matter where she is from, no matter where you are from, you call them auntie. the women who raised me in africa were not my aunties, they each adopted me. since i had no mother and a crazy father, the village raising the child was taken to an even deeper level. the fact i was their prince took it deeper still, they were literally mothering, fathering, sistering, brothering, the child would one day lead them with that idea not being some random chance but fate. further, being american, i would visit the u.s. once per year for a couple of months at a time. obviously, despite our socialist society, no other child could obtain the education i could not avoid.
ofc, my villagers were raising me to be the gentlest of souls, but each trip to america was raising me to be something altogether different. i will switch to my american story for a moment.
when i was learning to speak, i had a hearing problem. garbage in, garbage out. if the input is corrupted, the output will be. in addition i had a very strange accent. in addition, in africa i spoke Krio which was basically broken english, but english speakers fail to recognize it. my own mother could not understand me. by the time i was old enough to go to school while in america, it became very clear nobody had any idea wth i was saying. i began speech therapy.
so here is this crazy little kid at school who nobody could understand in a land notorious for bullying
over the first few years i can recall, when i went to america, it was primarily to get my ass kicked. i began to stutter, this ofc made it worse.
by the time i was 9 years old, i had studied isshin-ryu karate, tae kwon do and tamanegi do (google it). my father had ofc been working with me as well. i was no longer losing any fistfights, but instead would beat up the bullies of any school i attended. the combination of training and vast experience (i had fought about 100 times by the time i was 9) was simply insurmountable for anybody close to my age. by virtue of beating up the bullies, their victims lionized me, other boys admired me, girls loved me. it was addictive.
in my teens, i studied wrestling, boxing, muay thai, jujitsu, kali and silat (which are both stick and knife fighting, the most common weapons in rural africa). it is worth noting that through all this, i had never once been in a single fight in africa. at 11 years of age in the Boy Scouts of America i was instructed and shot a rifle
when i was 12, i owned a rifle and shotgun both, was hunting on 2 continents. my villages in africa were mostly temne, with a lot of mende and some other tribes thrown in. temne were a conquering tribe historically, mende produced the best hunters, kamajors. that will be relevant in the next chapter.
when i was 12 i read the "auto-biography" of malcolm x. most of the time i had no electricity, but my father invested in books for our villages and my english was already surpassing even his. he was raising me also to lead these people, he was providing what is called a classical education today. in the past, the people who received a proper education were meant to lead. typically, their education began with the greeks and developed into the global ideas and history since then. with the recent democracy trend, future leaders are unknown and you basically go to uni to learn to do a specific job, doctor, programmer, etc. rather than receive an education in how to be an effective king.
in west africa, we have a saying "if a boy washes his hands, he can eat with kings." if you know how to act, age ceases to be a factor. this is very rare though, in africa we have GREAT respect for our elders. as only son of the paramount chief, only child receiving an education in america, certified as a genius by their tests, and increasingly becoming the most well read among even the adults, i had been dining with the chiefs since i was a boy, but had never had spoken during those meetings, which is what they were. but when i read malcolm, i was taking my first biology class in america at the same time and i knew i had something to say, to these exact people.
there are physical differences you all fail to see between whites and blacks lol. black people do not have the arm and leg hair white people do, for example. kids in africa always rub my arms to feel my fur lol, as well as to ascertain that i am not a ghost. another is that they are born white, or that their soles of the feet and the palms of their hands are white. this happens in utero, your feet are sole to sole and your hands palm to palm. but getting back to malcolm and biology, malcom had mentioned mendel, i was studying him at school in america, remember those 4 boxes with the dominate traits and recessive traits? those actually proved that human life began black, else blacks could not exist today. blacks can produce whites, but whites cannot produce blacks. this was never admitted in western society until the 21st century. in 1985, rural sierra leone, i had a bunch of black african chiefs who had never heard of malcolm x or gregor mendel looking at me over their dinner like i was telling them that the white God was black, which i was btw, God created adam "in his image." i told them, look at your palms and they did, as if they had never before seen their own palms, these elderly chiefs. "black produces white, white does not produce black."
that night the chiefs returned to their villages, their families and their neighbors and my entire chiefdom (kingdom) was looking at their own palms as if they had never before seen them. my father was crazy, disabled, was a rural farmboy sent to vietnam, not classically educated, and in 1985 he could not operate a DOS system, but i could. he was good for the community, but they had not raised him. i was not just a hope anymore, i WAS the future. the faith they had in me had born justification, but they had to wait for it to mature.
the plan was i would go to uni in america and at 22 become paramount chief. as it turns out, i did not go to to uni, i did become paramount chief, but my villages were lost the same year.
Chapter 2 - Cannibal War!
Spoiler: in 1985 (perhaps the very same night my villagers were looking at their palms as if for the first time), a group of men broke out of a maximum security prison in the u.s., all were immediately captured, except 1
charles taylor was from neighboring liberia, also the son of an american, who had obtained his american uni degree by the time i was 4 years old
he had studied accounting, banking, finance, returned to liberia and helped overthrow the government, for which he was awarded a position that afforded him the ability to embezzle $1,000,000
when exactly he had begun working for the cia is debatable, he claims they broke him out of him prison, they admit he was working for them by then
a few years after his "escape," taylor had formed an army several hundred strong which grew to 25k in a single year as he took over liberia
i was in the u.s. when he invaded sierra leone, taking 3 courses (american history, american government, and i forget the third) which would qualify me for the diploma necessary for uni
but it had grown clear by then that the plan might be delayed, or worse
when the invasion was reported, i enlisted in the u.s. army, though i left after a few months of infantry training as the war back home spread
my chiefdom was far from the border and, as i previously suggested, that is how we saw ourselves, chiefdoms, not a nation
the west saw us as a nation, they had drawn the border themselves
the people along the liberian were no more my people than any of you are, but as the war drew closer to MY people, i had to take steps to prevent it from reaching us, long before it did
his army was 1 the likes of which your own realities of war do not compare
you fight terrorists, i fight demons
you use hitler as a gauge for evil, but he never openly worshiped the devil, sacrificed children to that deity, he certainly never ate their hearts
the demons approaching my chiefdom did all those things and worse, it is well documented
as the war spread, the kamajors emerged as the only heroes
the national army would be sent to the front, but often they would torment the people there rather than protect them, often they actually joined the rebels themselves, earning the name Sobel, soldier by day, rebel by night
the local populations had to produce their own local militia, young men they had raised personally, as often to protect them from the government forces as the revolutionary army taylor was directing
when he sent his special forces into our country to start the revolution, he was 43 years old, well educated and experienced in revolution, in charge of a nation, backed by the united states government and its allies
i was 17 years old without a single soldier in my chiefdom, no 2 youth in my villages had ever even come to blows with each other lol
myself and the mende hunters went to the front when i had returned from u.s. army training, months after the initial invasion (i had to finish the high school courses and turn 18, before i could set off for training, though i was allowed to sign the papers at 17 with parental consent)
we were the only handful from my villages with guns and experience using them
when we saw what we faced, we returned
my father and the chiefs had begun purchasing old single shot rifles
i had spent the time i was finishing high school, after the invasion, selling drugs and stealing, that money bought those rifles and ammo lmao
shit was getting cray cray in my disney world now, but it was just starting
so we took our youth and trained them (about 150 males between 15-25), then led these nubs into battle, the blind leading the blind
single shot rifles and machetes vs automatics with grenade launchers, my army deserted the first battle lol
next time, i lost some men
not random men fate had sent to ft. benning, georgia (u.s. infantry training base)
boys i had grown up with
i thought of the gentle soul i had once been, i thought of speech therapy when i was a boy in the u.s.
west africa has no nursing homes, the idea was so horrid to me, that these old folks were not in the homes of the families being looked after by their families
i went to a nursing home for some reason for hearing tests and speech therapy, i had a schedule, the people there immediately learned it
they would be lined up in the lobby when i walked in, like a ragtag unit of senior citizen soldiers in wheelchairs and with canes
like a general i would pace in front of them, studying them, but i was trying to establish which one needed me most at that moment, which was the loneliest, most broken-hearted, dejected among them
i would crawl up in their lap, stroke their hands, take their face in my hands and whisper to them
i thought of that boy who died atm as those boys i grew up with
i thought about america, how they sculpted that boy into a warlord
i thought about charles taylor
i thought "i need to set an acceptable casualty rate for future battles, based on proximity to our villages, i have to say that this month i can afford to lose 10 boys i grew up with, maybe 20 the next, cuz if it ever reaches my village, its 100%"
i thought of what my next visit to the u.s. might be like
being american, having spent so much time there, i got it
yes you paid for it with your tax dollars, but none of you had any clue, any more so than the people whose home i broke into had any idea wth was going on
you had no idea these west african countries even existed, sierra leone, liberia, guinea-bissau, etc. (taylor was directing revolutions in half a dozen countries in the 1990's)
despite having to put a number on the amount of childhood friends i could afford to bury, i thought i had reached the bottom at least, it would never get any harder than that moment
i was so naive back then
the war reached my villages ofc, i am not leading my people today, obviously
we became hardened soldiers by the time the rebels took makeni, that was a bloodbath
despite our primitive weapons, every account bears witness to our prowess in battle
we became more savage as well the closer the fight got to our homes, cannibals ourselves
voodoo is rooted in west africa, still dominant in rural areas, and whether i believed in it personally, it influenced my soldiers and enemies both
from a psychological warfare perspective alone, is there really anything that beats ripping the heart from the fallen commander on the field of battle and eating it raw?
in the end ofc, sheer force of numbers, superior firepower, limitless budget, won
before it was over the entire country was lost, literally the entire population in the capitol city, nobody in the villages anywhere, then even freetown was lost
freetown was not the blow my own villages were ofc, my entire existence had been erased
my past, my present, my future
i would never lead my people, they were killed and scattered
we evacuated before the war reached us, there was no sense then in losing every last soldier defending empty mudbrick homes and crops
but by the end of the war, literally every boy i had grown up with had been killed
by the end, not 1 of my soldiers was from my own villages
my father was the only person left who i was in contact with from my villages, the only one i could say to "remember when...?"
by the end it was a huge party, besides the rebels, government troops and kamajors, there were ecowas, un, sandline international and executive outcomes (mercenaries), everybody was there, it was the place to be
it ended after we agreed to give up the rights to our resources
