Cult of Personality

It’s not like me to hold my tongue for an extended amount of time. Usually if I think something, then I’m gonna say it. Or even if I don’t say it, I’m gonna write about it on my blog. Well, this situation is about 7 months in the making. Sure, I’ve mentioned it to a few people, but I haven’t really let all my feelings out on the situation. Enough buildup? Okay, here goes…I think my friend Kareem is in a cult.

I’ll pause here for you to snicker. I’m well aware that the first reaction to that statement is laughter. It sounds funny. I even wrote a joking post about cults last year. It sounds implausible and ridiculous, but I think it may be true. I’m sure some if not most of you recall my turbulent history with Kareem. He was my best friend, my brother from another mother, calling him my homeboy is an understatement. We rode hard from 7th grade until the year 2000, through school and girlfriends and partying and bullshitting. When he graduated from the green to the white, and stayed there, I had to make the painful decision to cut him off. I couldn’t bear to see la coca do to him what it did to my father. Call me sensitive if you want, but it was really a hard thing.

I moved to Atlanta , he went in and out of jail. I gave up the greenery, he had powder binges. I got on with my life, he, uhh, didn’t. My mom used to see his mom at church every now and then and would ask me if she should give him my number. For a long time I resisted. I didn’t know what was up with him. I didn’t know if he was off that stuff. I didn’t know if he would be going back to jail in the next month. I couldn’t take it. Finally, last year after some soul searching I decided that enough time had passed for me to get back in touch with him. I told my mom to go ahead and give Kareem’s mom my number.

The day he called me was a little strange. I didn’t recognize the number with the 912 area code. Usually I don’t answer unidentified numbers, but for some reason I took a chance. It was Reemy-Reem… We caught up on the years, he apologized for his drugged out antics (including but not limited to stealing my CD’s, running to my crib when he was hiding from the popo, and general boorish behavior). It was pretty cool. I was still apprehensive, but he sounded like his old self. In the course of the conversation, he told me that he was getting married. Fresh out of the pen and already getting married. He asked me to consider being his best man. I didn’t immediately agree, just cuz I needed to make sure that there would be no further relapses before I invested myself in him again. It wasn’t anything personal, just knowing the ways of addicts. In another conversation I spoke with Claire, his fiancée. She was extra enthused that Kareem and I were becoming friends again. It was weird to me that this woman that I knew nothing about, knew everything about me, but that’s how it goes. I hoped that everything was cool, but there were a couple of things that kinda seemed off to me.

One was Claire. Not saying that people can’t find love with ex cons, but for real? You gonna just marry this guy that just came home that lives with his moms and doesn’t have a car. And you are a graphic designer with multiple degrees from the Savannah College and Art and Design? I’m not hating on my boy, but that’s not exactly an equally yoked situation. It started to make more sense the more I got into the story. Claire was from Uganda , and was in the country on a rapidly expiring Visa. In order to stay here, she either had to find an educational sponsor, or get married. In my mind, that’s where Kareem came in. I know, that’s mad cynical, and I could be completely wrong, but that’s the vibe I got. Anyway, when I went down to Savannah for Thanksgiving, I got up with Kareem and Claire.

Kareem told me that he and some of his buddies from church were gonna be hanging out. Supposed to play some cards and eat leftover Thanksgiving vittles. I met Kareem at the Krispy Kreme parking lot on Skidaway. Pounds and hugs were exchanged. He looked healthy. His eyes didn’t have that familiar drugged out yellow tinge and slant. I followed him down some back streets to his church brother’s crib. When I got there, there were teenagers watching the BET Hip Hop awards while the adults were chilling in the kitchen playing cards. I was introduced to Claire, who gave me an all too familiar for my tastes hug. I sat back on the couch and observed the scene. There were a few random Jesus mentions, a few stories about the revival they just had, but nothing that led me to feel uncomfortable. Even though I don’t frequent church, I’m still able to politic about religion and hold my own in those discussions. Plus I grew up in a prayer meeting. That’s what my grandma’s house was like. If there is one thing I know how to do without trying, it's be respectful. And so I was… We adjourned to the kitchen to play some spades…

It was there when I started to get a strange vibe. They were talking more in depth about their church. Kareem got involved with the church while he was in jail. Apparently the church was big on the prison ministry and reforming criminals. I know it all sounds good so far. Stay tuned... The pastor was the one that hooked Kareem and Claire up and ordained that they would soon be married before they even dated. The church also held Thanksgiving revival away from their families out in the woods somewhere. When I heard that, my ears pricked up a bit. I controlled my smirk, as I continued to listen. Not everything discussed was church related, like when we talked about The Swagger (read that post if you haven’t read it… I’m hilarious. LOL) or when the conversation about how Chris Brown is the only young singer who can actually sing now a days. But most of the night was all about the church. It might just be me, but I don’t know if you praise Jesus for the Big Joker…

Okay, I’m prone to overactive imagination so I tried not to get carried away. But when they were talking about some of the donations they gave to the church, I was like this is a little excessive. How can you sign over your paycheck to the pastor, or donate your car to the church? Under other circumstances, it would be considered charitable, but if you are broke and can’t make ends meet, pastor gonna have to wait. Here is the biggest thing…GUESS WHAT THEY CALLED THEIR PASTOR: DADDY!!! A bunch of African-American men and women, calling their Caucasian pastor, Daddy. Oh, did I forget to mention that part. Yeah, he’s a white man, with an all black congregation that calls him Daddy, while retreating in the woods away from their families on a major family friendly holiday. Something just didn’t seem right about that. Can you say "Jim Jones (and not the wack rapper.)?"

Even with all that, I wasn’t thinking anything untoward was going on. It was mad strange, no lie, but at the end of the night I was still okay with it. Kareem and I talked about his wedding, which was to be this Saturday the 28th. He asked again if I would be his best man. I was leaning towards it. But guess who has not heard from his friend since that day??? That’s right. I never got an invite to the wedding, a call to ask if I was coming, tux specs, nothing. Not even a call to say what’s up? I don’t know if I was too heathenly, or if he’s disappeared with his cult, or Claire found someone else to marry to stay in the country. I just don’t know. His phone is off. My mom hasn’t seen his mom at church (they go to different services) to ask. I just don’t know. I hope he isn’t really in a cult, but more than that, I hope he’s not back on the drugs. Cuz truth be told, that’s my bigger fear.