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So begin this thing with an Abu ye! Abu ye! Abu ye! A heartbless. Step out from the case of your sandals, stand shoeless. Allow your knees and then your forehead an intimacy with stone; know your ground. The emperor that landed here in 1966 was led down his ites and gold and green plane by a rastaman. And tell me, was it all for show – the way he scorned the red rolled out for him? He walked, instead, on common ground – the hem of Selassie’s trousers brushed the dust of Babylon. Reach through history; touch this kneeling crowd – the tarmac soft against the substance of its faith.


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