Thank you, Patrick Henry, and John Langdon. (Digression: totally considering Langdon as a boy's name. After Jude. And Mtho. From Mthobisi.)

I didn’t mention that we had the distinct pleasure of meeting and listening to Mr Ahmed Kathrada, who was imprisoned for 26 years under the Aparthied regime, serving many of those years on Robben Island with Nelson Mandela. This was our first lecture on our first day of class, one week ago to-day, last Monday.

When the 80-year-old Indian South African opened the floor up for questions, Sizwe stood up and thanked him profusely for giving up is childhood and adolescence so that they could all have freedom. He wanted Mr Kathrada to know how much he appreciated his sacrifices.

Someone pointed out that we Americans couldn’t stand up and thank our revolutionaries. It was indeed humbling to be in Mr Kathrada’s modest presence, but we couldn’t experience the moment fully. I though about those who got together in the 1770s in New England taverns and discussed treason sub rosa. What does it mean to act in support of a movement in which you believe so fully that you’re willing to give your life for it? Could I stand up knowing that I’m making myself a target for the oppressive regime and speak my mind, probably with the consequence of arrest, incarceration, or even death?

What is the state of things in America to-day? I hear that it’s high time for a revolution, but that has something to do with the company that I keep. I know of people who stand up for their Constitutional rights, only to be arrested and held indefinitely for non-compliance. I know of others who, when facing an officer, deftly comply with relinquishing their rights out of convenience or a twisted sense of respect.

What respect, I ask? How can you respect a man over a principle? Yes, it may be easier to let the officer in or to search my trunk, but I will still tell him calmly that he’ll need a warrant to do that. I will stand up to his intimidation because I am right and I am within the law. I can wait in liberty. I write e-mails and letters, sign petitions, and step outside to make calls to my representative and senators because they serve me, and I will not them them forget it, even if others are invisible to their congress members.

The spirit of revolution is alive and well, but I’m not sure where. As long as I know that it’s in the heart of someone somewhere, though, their light and warmth will keep the fire in mine heart burning.

I was born to fight, and each day I meet others who march with me.

finis