BLACK SOULS MATTER

Aunt Jemima was standing over a hot stove, cooking her specialty, grits with hot sauce, when Uncle Ben entered the room. He looked so distinguished in his royal purple robe. He came over and kissed Jemima on the back of her neck. She shivered and, after Ben turned his back, she slapped the back of his head. Ben turned quickly.

"What'd you do that for?!" He cried.

"'Cause you gotta quit turnin' me on this early, honey, 'less you want that robe torn to shreds." The look in Jemima's eyes sent shivers of anticipation up and down Ben's back. Oh, he could hardly wait for later! Both Ben and Jemima smiled as a stirring was heard upstairs.

"Sounds like Lil' Sam is up."

"Yep. And, Ben, he ain't little no more. So please stop sayin' that." Ben nodded a reluctant agreement and watched as Samuel Boe, their nephew and heir apparent to the Boe fortune, came, ever so elegantly, down the stairs. He had grown since the last time they'd seen him and he was now a lanky 6' 3" man. Ben sat back and smiled. He was proud of Sam. He'd been a football star, a member of the debate club and he was captain of his schools chess team. As he once said to Ben, with a knowing wink, "Not bad for Lil' Black Sam Boe, eh, Uncle Ben?" Ben had to admit; Sam was going places and he was proud of him.

"Mornin' Uncle Ben, Aunt Jemima. What's cookin'?"

"Do you mean what's for breakfast?" Jemima asked, not a little perturbed. "Or are you sayin' 'Wassupppp!'?" At this Ben laughed till the tears flowed. He loved it when Jemima talked street. He'd loved her ever since they'd met in Selma, walking for peace with MLK. Damn, the '60's were a tough time. He couldn't help but wonder; what would have happened had the Kennedy's lived?

"I mean what is up for today?" Of course this had Ben in tears of laughter again. Sam's since of humor was warped, and he was the life of every party because of it. "Are we going to go to that old church in the country so I can photograph it?" Ben shook his head sadly.

"Sorry, Sam, but no. It's a witchcraft store now. 'The Coven Tree'. It looks so different. There are other small rural churches we can go to." Ben was genuinely surprised by Sam's response.

"No, Uncle Ben, let's go there. It's important we go there. " Aunt Jemima set the skillet full of steaming hot grits on the table.

"Why, honey? What's so important 'bout goin' there?" Sam's eyes were so full of pain that Ben thought maybe he was dying. That wasn't the case.

"Uncle Ben? Aunt Jemima? I serve the Lord now." At this Jemima raised her hands in not so silent praise.

"Hallelujah! Thank ya, Jesus!" The tears that flowed down Jemima's cheeks were tears of unbridled joy. Her sister's wondering child had come home! She sat down and just smiled.

"Then why do you look so pained?" Ben asked him. "What's wrong?"

"Our people, Uncle Ben, our people. Where is George Floyd?"

"In a Houston cemetery, why?"

"No, Uncle Ben, that's not what I mean. Where's George Floyd's soul? Where is he spending eternity?" At this Ben shivered, as he realized what Sam was getting at.

"I don't know, Sam, I really don't know."

"That's why we have to go to 'The Coven Tree'. Do you know there are black witches?"

"I sure do, Sam," Jemima declared, "our next door neighbor's one." Sam furrowed his brow at this but soon laughed when he realized what Jemima was getting at.

"No, Aunt Jemima, not like that. I mean actual practicing witches. They're called Wiccans."

"Sam?" Ben began, "What are you planning?" Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a Gospel of John.

"This. I want to go there and hand out these to the customers. Let the bible speak for itself."

#

There were quite a few cars at 'The Coven Tree' and so Sam knew he'd be able to hand out quite a few booklets. As Sam watched a beautiful ebony goddess descended the steps and came towards him. He grabbed a copy of John and approached. She looked up and in her green eyes Sam saw his reflection. He quickly gathered himself and spoke.

"Hello."

"Hello!" The woman responded, in a voice that told Sam her thoughts were less than pure. "How are you, big boy?"

"I'm fine, Miss?"

"White, Leticia White."

"Hello, Leticia. My name's Samuel Boe. You may call me Sam."

"I'll just call you hot, for you are, baby, all the way!" Sam was thankful for his dark hue, as Leticia's form and demeanor had him blushing. "But, really, baby, why are you here? You don't look like you practice witchcraft, or any other craft for that matter. So, why?" Sam handed her the gospel booklet and explained himself, placing his hand on her shoulder in a way that was loving but not sexual.

"Because, Leticia, I worry about your soul, about all the souls of our people." Leticia's green eyes looked questioningly at Sam.

"Why do you care? Kareem is into Islam, I'm into Wicca and you're a Christian. But we're all black and free. I don't get what you're doing this for?"

"Because, Leticia," Sam responded, looking deeply into her eyes, "we will face God someday. We will be judged for our actions, someday. And I'm doing this because Black Souls Matter."

"Black Lives Matter." Leticia responded. 'Black Lives Matter."

"Yes, yes they do. But the Bible tells me that all souls matter to God, and that all souls will face Him in the end. So I'm doing this, with my Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima, as an outreach to our people."

"Your Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima?" Leticia asked snarkily, "Where'd you pick them up? At the supermarket?" Sam turned Leticia around and she began to apologize profusely upon seeing real people, not rice and syrup. "I'm so sorry, Sam. Will you forgive me?" Sam shook his head slowly.

"Yes, if you'll have dinner with me." Leticia smiled.

"Won't we be unequally yoked?"

"Ah, you know some Bible!" Sam reached out and took her hand. Holding it gently he looked deeply into her eyes. "We'll work on that, and perhaps you'll discover Jesus and realize Black Souls Matter."