Searching For The Right Response

I live in Germany. Just two days ago, my wife, our two kids and I were at the Christmas Market in Frankfurt. It was jam-packed, and most people seemed relaxed and happy. We had lots of fun, rode the giant carousel with the kids, laughed out loud, ate extra-large Brezels with hot steaming Glühwein for Yvonne and me, and for the kids warm Kinderpunsch.

And we stood in front of a super-sized Manger and I told my daughter the story of the overwhelmed shepherd to whom a host of angels appeared and brought the glad tidings of great joy: that God had sent His Son to bring Light and Love as salvation to mankind. Pointing at each figure in the Manger, I told her about Joseph and Mary, about the three wise men, and about the Child in the crib in whose heart was Magic. Because Love is Magic. It was a beautiful day.

What religion, what philosophy, what doctrine, what hatred, what madness, what smallness makes a person drive a truck into a packed Christmas Market? How can such a thing be rationalized or comprehended?

I think of the people at the Christmas Market in Berlin yesterday – and inwardly I see the faces of the people I saw at my Frankfurt Christmas Market two days ago. The same kinds of people. Happy people. Full of the spirit of Christmas. I see myself and my family. I see mankind, up against an Evil; an Evil that is slowly uniting the rest of mankind against it. It might take long for the right response to intuite itself into conscious thought and into a visible systemic form. But one day… one day… it will.

Mankind is not perfect, it is true. But this kind of Evil… is beyond all depths.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.



How foreign is a foreigner
In a land of foreign values
If the values of the foreign
Are native to him?

How rightful are a native’s rights
In a land of prayer and righteousness
If he claims for himself the right
To deny an unbeliever his human rights?

Democracy is a car – if you insist
That they exchange their horse for your car
How can you stop them from roughly driving the car
Like they rode their horse, out into the wild?

Religion is a house – if you insist that they
Abandon nature and make your house their home
How can you stop them from inviting their old nature
Into your eternal rigid walls?

Who knows the answer?
Religion doesn’t know the answer
Politics doesn’t know the answer
Only really human beings know the answer.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Wir müssen zusammen halten
Denn die Stunde ist gekommen
Die Hasserfüllten wollen alle Gesellschaften spalten

Aber dies ist auch die Stunde
In der unsere Zivilisation einen Sprung macht
Nach Vorne in die nächste Runde

Unsere Werte werden überwiegen –
Die Furien sind entfesselt,
Zu wüten aber niemals zu siegen!

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


Nicht nur arabischen Frühling
Braucht die Welt
Sondern vor allem islamischen Frühling.

Daß die Muslime selbst
Tagein tagaus
Weltweit auf die Straße gehen
Und gegen ihre mörderischen Glaubensbrüder protestieren.

Daß die Muslime selbst
Sich zusammenschließen und selbst
Ihre Radikalen zur Rechenschaft ziehen
Und verurteilen, und verändern
Und stoppen.

Nicht mich müssen die Liberalen und Moderaten überzeugen
Mit Erklärungen über die friedliche Natur ihrer Religion
Sondern ihre eigenen Geistesgefährten –
Denn auf uns hören oder reagieren sie eh net.

IHR müsst die Führung in die Hand nehmen,
Wir unterstützen. – Nicht umgekehrt.
Aber Euer Schweigen und Nichtstun diesbezüglich ist laut.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.


I heard a soft cry in the night
And knew not where it came from
Through the open window
It floated in on a warm summer’s night

Just one cry, soft and intense
And short it shuddered the night
Like a single pulse of night’s heartbeat
Swallowed up in echoless suspense

I knew not if it was a cry of pain
A cry for help, of fear or of liberty
Or if it was a cry of crowned ecstasy
Of one in pleasure and passion lain

It spoke of terror and sang of delight
A mystery that revealed neither where nor why
All I knew was that it was the soft cry
Of some woman’s voice in the night.