Obama jetted back to Africa soaring aloft on gulf stream swank
a posse of oil company execs in tow, intent on liberating Dark Continent fossil fuels from unjust underground prisons
American entrepreneurs angling to get the upper hand in the high stakes global resource poker game pulled a big time race card to trump Chinaβs full house
On Goree Island, political paparazzi popped and clicked a perfect image of the neocolonial white clad President framed in a doorway filled with dark shadows and heinous memory of the unspeakable horrors of global trade
leering from the portal at the Gate of No Return Obama welled with meditative epiphanies of personal seachange, and the vicissitudes of life, pondering his meteoric rise from a Land of Lincoln State Senator to American President in the span of one golden 9/11 decade
At a South African University Town Hall Summit, the fist bumpin, mike droppin Prez telepromted the star struck folks with solemn universal civil rights pronouncements, wrapped in the riddle of the pursuit of peace, hidden in the enigma of the reverence for human dignity
Later in the day Mr. Obama sat at the feet of a comatose Mandela; whispering into his ear why an Afghan peace eludes him, why his drone strikes rain death upon innocents and why his democratic republic defiles the civil liberties of its citizens to ransom a daily diet of fear
But Madiba does not hear Mr. Obamaβs feverish confessions; his ears are closed, he dreams only of the paradise of liberation he earned for his life's hard wages