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The executive summary of the report adds the inequality measures for subareas:. Economics remains the area with the greatest degree of inequality from Direct a percentage of all infrastructure monies to job training, job placement and job preparation for disadvantaged workers; 3.

Target workforce investment dollars to the construction industry jobs that an infrastructure program will create and, where reigniting the construction industry is a goal, pre-apprenticeship programs must be funded in that sector; 4. Fund infrastructure development for public building construction and renovations of schools, community centers, libraries, recreation centers, parks, etc. Re-establish a temporary Public Service Employment PSE program aimed at creating , — , jobs in urban areas to forestall a reduction in public services and an increase in job losses. The report has not yet gotten much attention, but Leonard Pitts Jr.

African-Americans do not, after all, need its policy suggestions to fix many of their most intractable problems. Overall, Pitts accents some findings of psychological researcher, Richard Eibach , that. Whites use the yardstick of how far we have come from the nation we used to be. Blacks use the yardstick of how far we have yet to go to be the nation we ought to be. There is value in the yardstick white Americans use. But there is value in the yardstick black Americans use, too, the measure the National Urban League provides in its annual studies. We have not yet reached the Promised Land and we all have a moral responsibility toward that goal.

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But before we can fulfill that responsibility, we must learn to speak the same language where race is concerned, and to mean the same things when we do. One can certainly counsel African Americans to do this or that to improve communities and conditions, but the greater moral responsibility obviously lies on those who created the years of racial oppression, not those who have had to endure it now for four hundred years. Since these two events seem to be located at different ends of the political spectrum, this should prompt us to understand in more detail the characteristics and complexities of religion among African Americans.

African-Americans are markedly more religious on a variety of measures than the U. In fact,. African-Americans tend to closely resemble white evangelical Protestants on that score, with roughly six-in-ten among both groups saying that churches should express their views on social and political topics, and roughly half saying that there has been too little expression of faith and prayer by political leaders. Regardless of their religious background, African-Americans overwhelmingly support the Democratic Party.

So on the surface, these findings about religion among African Americans may seem rather contradictory, at least from a political point of view.

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Specifically, it is understandable that African Americans tend to be more religious than the general population and as a direct result of that, they overwhelmingly oppose same sex marriage. But with that in mind, how can it be that African Americans are also consistently and overwhelmingly Democratic in terms of political identification? In other words, how can a group be so strongly opposed to same sex marriage but at the same time, so strongly support the political party that tends to favor same sex marriage?

There is likely a variety of reasons for this apparent paradox, but my purpose here is not to delve into them in great detail, nor to explore the morality of the opinion among many African Americans in opposition to same sex marriage — other academics and commentators have much more expertise than me in that regard. Instead, I would just point out that this phenomenon shows us that the African American community is not simplistic and unidimensional.

Rather, it is quite complex and even at times, contradictory. In this sense, it is much like the White population, the Asian American population, the Latino population, and pretty much all kinds of human social groups. That is, much of American society can be accurately categorized and predictable but on the other hand, much can also be quite contradictory and confusing at times as well.

In either case, studies like this should prompt us to look beyond simple generalizations and instead, to recognize and examine the multiple dimensions of characteristics, experiences, and attitudes among African Americans or any other racial, ethnic, or cultural group in contemporary American society. To commemorate and celebrate the contributions to our nation made by people of African descent, American historian Carter G.

Woodson established Black History Week. The first celebration occurred on Feb. Each year, U. They made up More military veterans are black than any other minority group. In , , blacks had this level of education. The number of black-owned businesses totaled nearly 1. From Milot, a steep serpentine track had been cobbled into the slope, ending four-fifths the way up the mountain at a dusty parking lot.

From here you advanced on foot along a trail worn marble-smooth, like cathedral steps, by the legions of barefoot men who hauled the fortress piece by piece up the crag. Or, if you had no shame or were otherwise feeble, you rented a short, scabby horse to haul you upward, your feet scraping the ground.

Before I even turned off the ignition, our car was engulfed by a ragtag entourage of chatty kids and "helpers," several of whom attached themselves to the unathletic editor. They were as yet unaware that she was coco yay and had no intention of rewarding them for their good-natured but superfluous attentions. What does Haiti mean to you? I'm often quizzed by friends back in the States, puzzled by my attraction to the island. If I knew what Haiti meant to me, I'd probably stop going. Or maybe not. Haiti, much like the Balkans, is a place where history has a parasitic lock on the present, where everyday life crashes back and forth across slippery moral thresholds, shattering and reshaping values, identities, hearts.

One moment, children were sheltering you from gunmen; the next moment, those children were dead. One week, you were cheered by elated crowds manning the roadblocks on Route Nationale One; the next week, the same people were angrily pounding your car, screaming unintelligible grievances into your face. I imagined, when I came back home after the first month of the invasion, having witnessed so many horrific acts and so many heroic efforts, that I'd find a difference in myself, I'd be a better person somehow.

But this metamorphosis never happened. I remembered reading one of Annie Dillard's "found" poems, extracted from the letters of Vincent Van Gogh: "It may be true that there is no God here, but there must be one not far off. The associations were infinite; hope and heartbreak have always been part of every story, whatever the story was when God and man colluded in negligence. Sweaty and light-headed, we finally stood beneath the magnificent shiplike prow and towering bastions of the Citadelle.

Naturally, my wife and the editor wanted a room-by-room tour, but lacking such patience, I left them with Gary and slipped off through the vaulted passageways. I climbed up to the roof and, overcoming vertigo, crept out to the edge of the highest battlement. From my position atop the fortress, the view had a deceptive magnitude. The surrounding mountains stacked one on top of the other, higher and higher until they disappeared, like runaway slaves, into the scouring clouds. The flanks of the hillsides were mosaics of failed agriculture: red scabs of depleted land, fields of bedrock where the soil had washed away.

Muddy rivers twisted across the plains on their way to the Atlantic. But there was another Haiti, a lost Haiti, in those dense, misty mountains on the horizon. Gary and I had gone there, to the proverbial end of the road and beyond, in search of the infamous Marc Lamour, alleged to be Haiti's one and only guerrilla fighter.

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Gary and I had made our way to Lamour's hideout shortly after the American intervention. These were maximum hinterlands, haven for the maroons, the escaped slaves whose furious lust for freedom evolved into mass insurrection against the French. Within minutes we had passed through the envelope, out of the commonplace Haiti, and entered the most paradisiacal valley I'd seen anywhere in the tropics. For an hour and a half we hiked among the round, skull-white stones of the river's alluvial plain and splashed thigh-deep into its refreshing blue pools. Here was the virgin splendor of pre-Columbian Ayiti, a vestigial Eden tucked away and shielded from the devastation of years of genocide and greed.

Slowly we ascended the densely timbered slopes and finally came to a burned-out clearing in the jungle. One by one, peasants in tattered clothes, internal exiles, began to emerge from behind the curtain of flora, marveling at our otherness. Lamour, secure in his court, eventually appeared to grant us an audience, and it really doesn't matter what he said, because in the end the journey to find him would always mean as much if not more to me than the words that he spoke.

The man and the land shared an identical point of view. Atop the Citadelle, my reverie was a sentimental indulgence, I know, but one that seemed to offer at least the illusion of healing. Back at the Roi Christophe, I couldn't impress upon the editor how hazardous it was to travel after dark.

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A few miles later, we came upon a ghastly accident. Only minutes earlier, two large trucks had collided head-on, their wreckage crisscrossing the road. Several villagers stood nearby, doing nothing, for there was nothing they could do. The nearest police station was a good half-hour away, and not one of the villagers had any EMT training. I had been on the scene of many accidents like this in rural Haiti, had even participated in triage with the Special Forces, but I had no medical expertise to speak of, and the victims in this wreck were doomed long before anyone could show up with the equipment to cut them out of their pancaked cabs.

The moment seemed to provide the editor with an epiphany. Safely back at the Oloffson, we blindly stumbled into an argument, the editor and I. On the walk down from the Citadelle, she said, she had observed me discreetly slipping money into selected pockets. She thought my behavior was misguided. That was not the way to help anybody, she asserted. It only made matters worse, this personalizing of macroproblems; the most meaningful way to change things was to pay your taxes and lobby for legislative reform. You're absolving yourself of any face-to-face responsibility, I replied hotly.

Your sense of altruism is a comfortable abstraction. You detach yourself from individuals as if they were sorry apparitions, congenitally nameless. Throughout my early twenties, I had lived and worked in the black island-nations of the Caribbean: I had been the grain of salt in a sea of pepper. Whatever insights I might have about race and poverty won't satisfy me or anybody, but it's clear that of all the burdens fate had placed on humanity's shoulders, whites have borne a featherweight load.

In Haiti, my name was and always would be blanc. In Creole, the words for "man" and "black" were identical: neg. In Haiti, black was the color of man, and white, unfortunately, was the color of both abandonment and salvation. Please, don't, I would find myself saying to a weathered old peasant showering me with gratitude for some petty and thoroughly inadequate act of charity: a match, a cigarette, a lift.

Most often, however, I pushed silently through the shoals of beggars, ignoring their extended hands. My wife intervened, attempting to explain whatever it is about me that requires explanation, and Gary looked on, dismayed, as two more blancs in a centuries-long procession of blancs squabbled over the methods and mechanisms they might best apply, like bandages, when they were intermittently inspired to repair the world. Bob Shacochis is a contributing editor of Outside. May 2, Facebook Icon. Richard survived by using the Sword of Truth in a way described by Prophecy.

Richard was made the Caharin of Du Chaillu's people and they escorted he and Verna to the city of Tanimura , where the Palace was situated. Richard delivered a warning speech to all the Sisters and young men present at his welcoming, when he and Verna arrived at the Palace. Shortly after, Verna visited Richard in his room and much of the animosity between them seemed to have faded, though they were yet to be friends.

Verna tried several times to gain a meeting with the Prelate, whom she saw as responsible for her demotion, however she was unsuccessful. She also ran into her former love, Jedidiah and was quite disappointed at the lack of tact shown by him. Richard, fearing he was the reason for Verna's demotion, travelled to the Hagen Woods and when Maren came to retrieve him, he forced her to reinstate Verna.

Verna, a Sister once more, was finally allowed a meeting with Prelate Annalina. Ann delivered a hurtful speech to Verna, explaining that she was a person of little note, however this was a lie created by Ann to force Verna to fulfill a prophecy. She also revealed to Verna that there were Sisters of the Dark in the Palace, hoping to draw out one, whom she knew to be her administrator. Finally broken of the Palace's teachings, Verna visited Richard and told him of all that she had learned. She told him that she has more power than any other Sister of the Light and that she would try to remove his Rada'Han, though she did not believe she would succeed as he had Subtractive Magic.

Verna failed, though she did succeed at removing Warren's Rada'Han, yet Richard accepted her as his friend, due to her attempt. Richard showed her a statue that he knew to be Quillion , as Sister Liliana had tried to use it to drain his gift and life from him only moments before. Verna recognized the statue as belonging to Sister Ulicia. Verna and Richard in the Palace of the Prophets. Verna and Richard hurried to the Prelate's compound, knowing she was in danger and interrupted Ulicia's attack on her. Verna and Ulicia had a brief duel, before Ulicia fled. Verna saw that the Prelate was grievously wounded and she and Richard took her to Nathan Rahl to see if he could heal her.

Richard, knowing that his other teachers would be Sisters of the Dark, like Liliana, went to search for them. Before he got far, Jedidiah intercepted him and began to use his gift to do him harm. Verna appeared from behind Jedidiah, her former love, and stuck her dacra in his back, killing him instantly.

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Nathan taught Verna how she could use her powers to shield Richards Rada'Han and take him safely from the Palace. Warren accompanied the two as they travelled to the land of the Baka Ban Mana. Together with Du Chaillu, Richard was able to bring down the barrier, that had stood strong for three thousand years. Fortunately, he was capable of sealing the Stone of Tears in the veil; saving the world of life from the Keeper.

Prelate Annalina Aldurren and the prophet Nathan were found dead. It was presumed that Annalina had died from her injuries at the hands of Sister Ulicia, while it was thought that Nathan over extended himself, while attempting to heal her.

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A sacred funeral rite was held for the Prelate and the man who fought so valiantly to heal her, which all of the Sister's attended. Sister Verna was devastated at the loss of the Palace's Mother, yet continued to be angry with her due to the harsh words she had spoken to her during their last meeting. On her way back to the Palace, Verna was met by Warren. The two spoke of their worries that there might be more Sisters of the Dark in the Palace, aside from those who had escaped with Ulicia.

They also admitted that they had both had feelings for each other in the past. Verna continued to make her way to the Palace and when she reached the bridge, she was met by Sisters Philippa , Dulcinia and Maren. The three Sisters escorted her to the great hall, where Warren was made to wait outside. When inside, Verna's attention was caught by a stool surrounded by a halo of light.

Sister Leoma confirmed Verna's suspicions that the halo was a light web. She also told Verna that atop the stool, sat the Prelate's ring of office. So far every Sister, apart from Verna, had attempted to breach the light web-unsuccessfully. Verna made her way to the stool and before long breached the light web entirely. With the ring of office, was a message from Prelate Annalina.

It contained her last order; that Verna was to succeed her as Prelate. Sister Leoma was clearly distressed by this, but offered Verna any assistance she would require as the new Prelate. Verna left the great hall and was met by an excited Warren, who she demanded find a way to have her removed from office. Warren however was adamant that she was the perfect candidate for Prelate, despite being a little young.

In her new role as the Prelate, Verna began to worry that she had become a prisoner of her station, spending all day signing papers. Her new administrators, Sisters Phoebe and Dulcinia, continuously delivered her file after file. She also had Sisters Philippa and Leoma act as her advisors on how to run the Palace of the Prophets, as they were far more experienced in the administrative affairs that were the responsibility of the Prelate. She also began to change the traditions of the Palace; outlawing the test of pain among other things.

Warren was the only person she was able to trust and they talked as much as possible. On one such occasion, they visited Sister Simona , who had gone insane, due to something she called a dream walker. Warren believed there was more to Sister Simona's illness of the mind than met the eye. Verna slowly began to notice some discreptancies in Palace business after talking with a gravedigger who had been employed by the Sisters and inquiring after the loss of Palace horses.

Later when she spoke with a Palace cleaner, Millie , who had been a close friend of Prelate Annalina, she was given a message by Millie from Ann when she had been near death; that Verna should take care to enjoy her private garden. Subsequently, Verna encountered a small sanctuary in her private garden that had a very unusual and very powerful shield protecting it. She soon recognized that it was keyed to the Prelate's ring of office and was able to enter. After some time sitting quietly and thinking in the sanctuary, Verna discovered her old journey book. Inside was a message. Verna began to think that her suspicions that Annalina Aldurren was somehow still alive may well be correct.

To make sure, she demanded that the person who had the twin to the journey book write what Ann and Verna's last conversation had been about. The person was indeed Ann. She and Nathan had faked their deaths so as to be able to see to matters to do with prophecy. Ann apologized to Verna for the harsh things she had said in their last conversation. She finally told Verna the truth; that she was the one Sister she trusted above all others and had said those horrible things to force her to fulfill prophecy. Verna forgave Ann and received many tips from her on how to handle the Sisters and the Palace.

Ann and Nathan also ordered Verna to have Warren leave the Palace, because of the danger he faced, considering he had recently given his first prophecy. Ann also put Verna in charge of discovering the rest of the Sisters of the Dark. When Verna searched for Warren, she was told by Leoma that he had left the Palace. Verna was dismayed as Warren was the one person she could trust.

Later, Verna finally discovered how to determine which Sisters were loyal to the Light or the Keeper. However, when she entered her private office, she was confronted by Sister Leoma and three other Sister's and was knocked out instantly. Sometime later, Verna awoke in the infrimary, wearing a Rada'Han. Sister Leoma later came to her and told her that she had been found guilty of being a Sister of the Dark and that the newly returned Sister Ulicia was now the Prelate.

Verna told Leoma that behind the shield of her cell no one could hear her so why bother with the charade. With this, Leoma admitted to being a true Sister of the Dark. Leoma informed Verna that she and the Sisters of the Dark had come under the control of Emperor Jagang of the Imperial Order , who was a dream walker.

However, the loyalty Verna had to Richard Rahl protected her from her mind being taken as Leoma's had. Leoma, on Jagang's orders, used the Rada'Han to torture Verna to see if it was possible to break someone of their bond to the Lord Rahl. Verna failed to be broken. Later, Leoma brought Millie to clean Verna's cell. Millie screamed obscenities at Verna, however, she secretly left a dacra with her.

When Leoma next came close enough to Verna, she was able to stab her in the leg. She had Leoma tell her the names of every single Sister of the Dark and then had her remove her Rada'Han. She then asked Leoma to return to the Light, but when she refused, Verna released her Han into the dacra, killing the Sister of the Dark instantly.

Verna then freed Sister Simona, who she realised had been mentally invaded by Jagang, teaching her of the bond to the Lord Rahl. They were then met by Millie and Sister Philippa, who remained loyal to the Light. During the battle, Verna ran into Kahlan Amnell and a sorceress named Adie , who she had not seen in many years.

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Adie helped the Sisters to do battle with their enemies, while Kahlan later met up with her beloved, Richard, who had travelled through the sliph to the Palace. The Palace of the Prophet's was destroyed through intervention of Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander , Ann, and Nathan, though it was ultimately Richard who set off the spell that destroyed it.

This was done to prevent Jagang from capturing the prophecies it contained and benefiting from the time spell on the complex.