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Sunday, August 24, 2014

Aisha and Merneptah - the saga of Meretneith continues in fall 2014

He traveled again until the sun came to paint the sky a subdued hint of purples and pinks. He took his rest. At sunset, he picked up speed. Anat was moving within striking range of Rachel. She had gathered additional forces from neighboring tribes. Approaching her armies Seth called up the wind. This time it took the savannahs with a force that moved to the hills and valleys lifting the microscopic rock filling the air with a fine deadly spray. Seth moved through it unseen. The massive warrior stepped with ease through swirls of blistering sand. He was upon Anat’s horde like a great-enraged cat. They heard his war cry but could not see the owner of it. Only the flashes of the steel arc of death were seen, always too late. Blood spray filled the air blending with sand dust. Soulless bodies were buried immediately under new and shifting ergs of sand. Suddenly the wall of sand seemed impenetrable.

He heard Anat’s cries of pain and fear. She called out to her Protectress. Then all stopped. Seth stood starring into an impenetrable veil of sand. Then there was blackness. The giant stood waiting. Then through the blackness, he saw a figure of gold approaching quickly. In the same instant, his body grew tire, almost too tired to stand. Ba’al drew near.

Lifting Seth’s body into his arms, he kissed Aisha’s child. Succumbing to feelings of a half dream, Seth pressed his face to the golden giant’s chest. Ba’al began to speak as he carried Seth in his arms.

The deep voice spoke of the Precession and the balance. He told Seth of the thousand-year love that bound his parents’ souls. The golden god explained that the breach in faith of Rachel could only be brought to balance and resolution between her and her mother Anat. The imbalance of mother and daughter would be resolved through the selfless actions of his brother Joshua. Ba’al told him to cherish always the love between he and Joshua in the coming years.

He sang the stories of Kemet and Seth’s time in the balance. He sang of the coming together of the universes causing the coalition of suns and planets. They would signal the beginning of the great cosmic awakening that Seth’s children would witness. Then humming a lullaby to him Seth felt Ba’al place him in another’s arms. Warm and loving he looked into the grey eyes of Saul smiling into his. Pressing close within the loving embrace Seth fell into a deep slumber.

He awoke in his bedroom. Everything that passed in the desert came back in crystal clarity, remembering Ba’al’s words Seth pronounce a thank you in his grandmother’s ancient speak. He wondered how long he slept and could hear the gathering in the great room. Above it all, came the deep-throated laughter of Asherah. Pulling the covers over his head, he smiled. At first resisting the almost overpowering need to run to his family he lay listening feeling profound gratitude. Then he heard his father’s music come sweet and soft to his ears. Grabbing his loungers from a chair, he raced through the halls than paused at the landing. The entire family was there. Scents of his favorite foods wafted from the kitchens. And all grew still. They looked up at him silent for a moment before his father’s deep rich roar filled the air.

“Come here boy!”

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Meretneith and Merneptah

Word came early on a winter season’s night that Syrus was on the move. He took the lives of three Teachers and their tribes near the Al Jufrah. Merneptah came for his mother in the dead of night to ride out on horseback to meet with tribal fighters. They found Athtar’s chopper well hidden within a rocky crag. Merneptah took the controls. They were only out an hour before the trail of bodies began. Meretneith grabbed her son’s arm. “Merneptah…land here.”

They walked the desert and the Savannahs. There was no scent of the Hyksos, but the trail of bodies led them to a mass grave. Impaled on ten foot tall stakes were the small bodies of children and offspring of the Teachers. Some tiny forms hung at angles from poles pounded into bedrock. The severed heads of mothers, their faces contorted in horror, sat at the base of the pole. As if thrown in play, their headless bodies lay across the killing field. Meretneith and her son knew that the slaughterers were Hyksos offspring. No Old One would so breach the Law.

The rising sun found the Protectress sitting in the sand, her son began to cover most of the dead. They took the small bodies of the children from poles to assemble them in a mass grave. Meretneith recognized many of the faces from the Council meeting in Dubai. Syrus targeted members of the tribal Council. He was careful not to disfigure facial features so that the Protectress would recognize the dead.

Impatient desert animals began picking at the carnage. Merneptah and Meretneith watched at first but could do little. It was the desert. Life demanded its premium to live here. Mother and son waited for nightfall before climbing the nearby mountains. They contemplated quick retribution. Use of modern weaponry would only disturb the Ma’at. What modern weapon could be greater than the passions that drive the blade? Mother and son knew where they needed to go for answers. She wanted to know the location of her enemies’ camp.

Syrus had grown accustomed to her hunting habits. Their fight would be different this time. She now owned the energies of three powerful males fighting at her side. This day the most powerful one of them hunted with her, the one they called the monster. She and Merneptah left the sands for the dense arboreal jungles on the borders of southern India. Syrus kept his core fighters there. Their habit was always to train and hide amongst trees and mountains. She and Merneptah would have to move fast.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

The Evergreen Inner Sanctum of Hawala Wealth

Like a Greek play, the inner sanctum of the 1% meme is a melodious and harmonic chorus droning across the globe. The rhetoric has become common but the message obscures the realities of a true growth in wealth…shadow banking. Like a green shoot of new grass emerging between the cracks of an urban sidewalk. Shadow banking is expanding beyond earshot or sight. Obscured by white noise that renders it out of news media range it remains an enigma. Its moniker is absurdly descriptive. Shadow banking is unregulated activities by regulated institutions. It serves as a very important structure within the global economic stream. However, like the “Mighty Mississippi”, this monetary river rushes into the hands of ideological extremists all over the world.

Hawala or Hundi

Regulated global monetary exchanges are growing richer while participating in money laundering of terror donor funds. Funded in the billions from sovereign and business leaders these dollars transect borders. Creators of instant billionaires their ever-greening inner sanctum of wealth has become the driver of the burgeoning bottom lines to government reserves.

This green bubble feeds the economic stream of all our lives in every developed nation. It underlines the economic fabric of those of us living in foot tapping porch homes to Wall Street. Yet few of us know of its existence.

Doing its work as an undercover agent of monetary exchange the societies of Hawalas is exclusive. Those actors that serve as go between and the gatekeepers are the Hawalers. In support of the horrors of radical and bloody ideological social reengineering, no federally mandated agency sanctions its money exchanges. Hawala dealers function within centuries’ old code of ethics reliant on trust between ethnic tribal unions and families. If they were recognized as a sovereign nation, their GDP would rank among the highest.

We can enjoy a stimulating debate on whether hawaladars are or have been a needful economic structure. Because the purchasing power of terrorists and their organizations serves as the underlying structure of major economies. These funds earmarked for terrorists proliferation hourly navigates its way into regulated sovereign banking.

The “politicalization” of Hawala by rich ideologists is rapidly becoming problematic. So how do you track and punish those that traffic in money laundering? You introduce the regulated offender to the scales of justice. You punish the participating institution thereby staunching the flow and minimizing the number of laundering havens (BNP Paribas). Nevertheless, how often does the politics of the locale, especially in underdeveloped nations turn a deaf ear; nay they sanction the religion of Hawala economics.

The role of transnational watch dogging of Hawalas has changed its face and developed strong regulatory muscle. It resembles the Eurasia Group of the Financial Task Force (FATF).

India

Eurasia Group of the Financial Action Task Force (FATF) is being embraced and forming new partnerships in its motivation to drive Pakistani Hawalas from the borders of neighboring countries. Somewhere in the vast and complex dendrites of the Hawala connectivity, someone has discovered that the only pathway to circumventing monetary funds to terrorists’ hands is to clamp off the artery that allows it.

Nevertheless, the realities of a dynamic organism are that it creates what biologists call an anastomosis. Like a blocked blood vessel, shadow bankers will circumvent an obstructed avenue of exchange then invent a new way to meet hawala needs.

Crypto-currency enters from the wings offering yet another popularized avenue to the swift expediency of money transferring, from one unregulated hand to another. However, that is subject matter for another posting.

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