An Avatar stages a personal family protest

in the spring of 1990:

 

"by living on the grounds New City Hall

as a homeless family inside their car

for an entire  week."

 

 

 

Part One:

Staging a family protest –

by parking ourselves on property of city hall inside our car.

 

 

Early Tuesday morning of the next week, I drove my family from Queen’s Park about five minutes down the road. After we drove around the block, and checked out the ground for the best place to park, we finally chose a spot near the North West part of that large site to stay put.  It was the perfect spot for us.  We were parked right next to Sir Winston Churchill.

 

 

It was also right next to the statue of the man who led the “free world” in its mortal combat against the forces of Adolf Hitler and his twisted and mighty Nazi regime.  And also the man who praised the efforts of some of the allied soldiers for their bravery and their sacrifice, which won the “battle for Britain” against the stronger and larger air power of Hitler’s massive air fleet of fighters.  It was Churchill who spoke about the surprise victory of the underdog over the Goliath air power of the Fuehrer when he said: “Never have so many owe their lives to the actions of so few.”

 

 

When Andraggon shared that bit of human history with me, about the statue of the man whom we had just parked next to, we both grasp the irony of that situation. We were just one family, of four people, (and a dog) who were fighting for the lives of the planet itself, and for all beings living and dying on it.  Churchill’s words were also for my family.  I was a God who was taking her family into war against the systems of control, and authority, which held all of life on the planet hostage, with their male might, their divine right, and their macho ego.  ‘Never has one family been prepared to give up their lives for so many races of beings.’  If Churchill was alive, and had inner sight, he would have spoken those words himself about my family, and the battles we were now fighting for justice and equality for all beings on Earth.

 

 

And for that entire period of time we were harassed and intimidated and threatened not by the public, but by the bureaucrats who were paid to serve and protect the people of the city of Toronto – the Metropolitan Toronto police. From the first day we were there, a few police officers came by in the afternoon to speak to us about why we had parked our car there.  We calmly told them why, and remained seated inside our car while doing so. That same evening a few more officers came by, in a police cruiser and asked us the same questions again.

 

We gave them the same answers: we were there to stage a personal family protest against the years of injustices and abuses which many institutions and people in Toronto had done to us for over fifteen years.  And that we would not leave there until we are able to speak to the mayor of Toronto in person, and get his promise that he will take our issues seriously, and take steps to put solutions in place through legislations to benefit us, and others in Society going through the same injustices.

 

 

Until then, we were not budging one inch.  They left after a while. But they promised that they would be back later.  And boy did they keep their word in a big way.  Late that night, when my family had fallen asleep, we were awoken abruptly, and loudly, by what I have to describe as a police invasion.  Suddenly, some heavy objects were pounding loudly on the windows of our car. When we opened our eyes, there were bright lights shining on us and blinding our vision from the headlights of a few police cruisers that were parked in front of my car.  My husband and I reminded each other to remain calm and relaxed, and we also assured the kids that everything was going to be okay.

 

 

The police was back all right. And they were trying to intimidate and frighten us with their show of aggression and power.  They were treating my family as if we were wanted criminals, who were posing a danger to them, and whom they had finally cornered.  They were treating us as if they were about to do a take down, just as we had seen them do many times on news programs, and on television shows, about police officers fighting crimes.  “You never get a second chance to make a first impression” is something I have heard media people saying for years.

 

 

Well, these officers of the law intended to make sure that they made an impression on this small family, that was so nerve wrecking, and devastating, that they would not need to even have to worry about making a second impression. At least that was what they thought.  And I read them like a book that night.  But they were going up against a God. And they did not know it.  At least not yet. But my family did. And they sat back and let me take the driver’s seat, which I was more than ready and waiting and eager to do.  The key to moving wisely in every situation where there is danger is for that person to be able to remain focus, and calm, so that they can be guided by a higher part of their own being, safely and smoothly through the eye of every personal storm they find themselves in.

 

 

The more that person is able to work in harmony with their higher Self, the more they are able to move according to the directions given to their spirit by those beings who are responsible for guiding and protecting them through their mortal life.  These beings are not Gods, but they are highly developed spiritual beings known to humanity by such names as angels, guardians, guides, and aliens.  And the person who has learned to trust that inner source of unseen guidance completely is the one who is able to surrender the driver seat to that inner guide totally.  And every step of the way they will be able to spontaneously move, and change directions smoothly, and timely, through those minefields of obstacles – as if those dangers were not even there in the first place.

 

 

 I was a God, and I was a master at going with the flow. I was also a mother and a wife who saw that her family was on the verge of being harmed or even assaulted, or worse, even being shot by a group of police officers in the middle of the night with no one else in sight.  We were in the middle of a scene that was a carbon copy of one where a civilian could end up being shot, beaten, or even killed by police officers.

 

 

In our own African Canadian community in Toronto, for example, Metro police had developed a disturbing habit of shooting, and killing, a number of our young men especially when they were alone with them in the middle of the night, on the road, or in some quiet and secluded places.  And in most of these cases, the only witness to their crimes was either dead, or police officers, who were forced to give evidence about that tragedy.

 

 

My husband and I knew that it is was crucial that neither one of us gave these officers any opportunity to want to arrest us, or to even give them any excuse to pull their guns against us, and shoot my husband, or even myself.  So when we opened the windows of our car to speak to these hostile and overly aggressive officers, both of us remained calm while we answered their questions.  That night, they asked a lot of questions.  And that night we gave them a lot of answers to those questions.  Like the previous set of officers, this larger group of about ten officers asked us many questions.  But unlike those others, they were much more aggressive.

 

 

For about one hour my husband, and our two children, sat in that cramped, and small car, while this group of law enforcement officers did all that they could to force us to end our protest the first night that we officially started it.  We did not budge from inside that car no matter what they did.  We just sat there as they put us through the ringer.  They opened the trunk of our car, and checked it for any weapon, or anything that they could find to charge and arrest us for.  They found nothing but food, clothes, and other items.  They poked their huge flashlights inside our car and checked for similar things that they hoped to find, so that they could force us to come out of the car and be arrested and taken away.

 

 

They found nothing but our feet and the bare floor of our car.  They checked our car for insurance, ownership, plates expired dates, and they found nothing out of place.  They even did a police check of myself, and found the two assault convictions that I had gotten a few years earlier.  They were not happy when they asked me about those convictions.

 

 

But there was nothing they could have done to me for having gotten them.  As well, I took the time to briefly, and calmly, explain to these overly aggressive officers the circumstances behind those convictions.  I saw that none of them who heard it was ready to offer me an understanding ear for what I had gone through.  But there was nothing that they could do to us that night, to force us to start up our car and drive away from the ground of that government property.  Unless they decided to throw the law out the window, and decided to just use strong arm tactics against us, which we knew they could – and which they threatened to do – there was nothing they could have done against us, to force us to leave that property.

 

 

As residents of the province of Ontario we knew that we had a right to use our civil rights under the Constitution of Canada, to protest against any form of injustices that we had suffered in Toronto.  We did not set up any tent, or put up any structure on the grounds of City Hall, as we would do almost twelve years later in February of 2003.   We were inside our own vehicle, which was a small car.   And it was very close to the edge of the street, and far away from any of the government buildings on that property.  So we could not be charged with the same charge that were made against us in February of 2003, of setting up a structure on public property.

 

 

Finally, those police officers packed up and left, and we were left alone inside our car to ponder about what had just happened to us; and also to marvel about what could have happened to us.  My family had survived our first big test on the streets of Toronto.  And we had done it in style that night – every one of us.  And we had done it under very strenuous and stressful and touchy situations.  For about seven days, my family lived in our battered and beaten and old car right next to Sir Winston Churchill, or at least his statue.  For that entire period we became a target for everyone who made it their business to attack us.

 

 

The second day we were there, we were visited constantly by a number of the security staff who worked there. They all tried in different ways to make an argument for why we should not remained parked there, including ones like: we were putting our lives in danger, putting our children at risk by living inside a car, and making the government of the city look bad by embarrassing them in the way that we were.  They even tried to convince us that what we were doing was illegal, which it was not. We held our ground and stayed parked.  We were not moving and they could not force us to move.

 

 

Children’s aid organizations exploited those fears that parents of African Canadian families held about the welfare of their children, and their concern of trying to make sure that they were raised with discipline, so that they could learn respect and manners and morals.  These agencies do not believe that children should be spanked, and that they should be spoken to instead.  And most of the times that they showed up at the front door of one of these families, and eventually took their child into custody, were usually after that parent had been accused of spanking that child, and often it was by a teacher of that child.

 

 

So when that social worker from the Toronto Children’s Aid Society threatened to take our children from us, and placed them in their custody, both my husband and I took that threat as seriously as she intended for us to take it.  We were not abusing our children, as she and others tried to convince us that we were doing during the seven days we stayed on the grounds of the government of Toronto.  We were just one family who were protesting a lifetime of being abused in Canadian Society by teachers, social workers, doctors, employers, co-workers, and many others who crossed our paths or entered our lives over the years.

 

 

This time I was ready for children’s aid, the police, and any of those agencies, or individuals who were trying to control or destroy the unity, or the strength, or the closeness of my family.  And so was my small family.  That social worker finally left, after she realized that she had not managed to frighten us with her threat to take our children away from us.  But she returned a few more times over the next couple of days.  And each time she came back with some government official who said that he was from the mayor’s office.  They kept making the same case, to try to pressure and coax us to end of protest, by using different approaches.

 

 

But none of it worked. We did not budge.  Nor were we going to until I had gotten the commitment I needed to get from the mayor’s office - that he would address our situation and take steps to remedy it.  I knew that he could promise to look into our problems, to see what he could do about helping us to solve them, and then turn around and do absolutely nothing about them – as politicians had a reputation all over the world of doing.  In fact, politicians are masters at making empty promises that they never intend to keep just to get in office, or stay in it.  So I was prepared for Mayor Art Eggleton to do the same thing in person, or through one of his assistants.

 

Part Two

Facing the tough decision –

to end or continue our family protest on the grounds of city property.

 

Living in a small car near the side of the road in the heart of a big city was a very difficult thing for a family to do.  It became even harder because we were also on the property of the headquarters of the mayor of that city, which made us even more of a target for harassment and intimidation by politicians, bureaucrats, and even the general public.  For the entire seven days and nights that we lived there, we spent about twenty hours a day sitting inside that small cramped vehicle.

 

 

Sleeping inside that small car each night was one of the most difficult things that we ever did as a family.  But we managed to pull it off each night.  The first problem we encountered was just trying to make our bodies comfortable in that cramped space that had only two doors to enter and leave it.  It’s very hard to remain seated in a small car for more than a few hours, without feeling the urge to get out and stretch your body, from the stiffness it begins to feel after awhile.

 

 

Even if a family is traveling for hours in their car to get to a vocation spot, after driving for a number of hours they usually want to stop and just stretch their limbs.  Being able to get out of that car and limber up their stiff bodies is something, which every family needs to do, after spending hours seated in a cramped car.  My family was no exception.  But we were also in an unusual situation where we had to learn overnight to adjust quickly to, in order for us to cope in that situation.

 

 

The first thing we had to establish was the importance of us sticking together, literally, whether we were inside the car or outside it.  The last thing that we needed was for our children or us to be separated.  We were staging a family protest, and it was crucial that we stick together.  Our car was not only our home but also our tiny fortress, where we were able to take shelter from the elements, and also from people trying to physically remove us from that property.

 

 

So we did everything together, and when we had to, we did it in pairs, especially when we had to use the washrooms on the property.  I would go with my daughter and my husband with go with our son.  Fortunately, there was a public washroom on the grounds of Nathan Philip Square, where the government of Toronto was located, and it was only about thirty yards from where we were parked.  So neither my husband nor I had to worry about leaving each other with one of our children staying behind.  In this way there was always an adult in the car with a child so that no one can come along and try to tow our car away.

 

 

That was the strategy we use for the entire time we were there.  The washrooms on that site were locked every day in the evening.  So we had to look for another washroom to use in the evenings when we needed to.  For this adventure, we had to all leave that car, and leave our poodle behind, with the doors locked and the windows partially opened for her to get enough air to breathe properly.  But we did not look for any washroom facility until about the third evening, after it became clear that we needed to find one to use.  We were not sure if the authorities would send a tow truck operator to try to tow our car away while we were away.  My husband informed me that it was illegal for them to tow any vehicle while a person or an animal was inside it.

 

 

 So even though we did not think that our car would not be there, one of the times that we went to use the washrooms someplace nearby, we still did not like the idea of leaving it, and leaving our dog alone there.  We finally found a hotel nearby, where we went to use the washrooms one evening. It was a high-class hotel, and probably a five star one.  We don’t remember its name but it is still there. For two evenings in a row, we went into that hotel, and used its washrooms.  The third time we tried, however, we were informed by some of their security staff that we could no longer use their washrooms.  They also informed us that we should not enter their premises again, unless we were staying in that hotel.  We never went back there again.

 

 

We now also had a problem which we saw no solution for under the conditions we were now living in.  There was no washroom facilities for us to use during the evenings after the ones on the grounds where were staying on were closed.  When nature calls even the most disciplined of us has to answer that call, whether it was to clear our bladder of empty our bowel.  We ate very little and drank even less during days that we spend there, as soon as it became obvious to us that we needed to avoid any of us having to go to the washroom during the evenings.

 

 

Over the course of the one, and only weekend, that we stayed on that government property to stage our family protest, we discussed our situation as a family.  Each member of that family gave their views about what we should do. It was becoming obvious that it was going to become harder and harder for us to live under the conditions that we were now living under.  But we also knew why we came out here on the streets to live.  We could not go back to the life that we had been living for all of our lives.  And the only way for us to move forward as a family was for us to take a stand as a family, against all the things that had forced us to live in the painful and oppressive manner that we had lived all our life as a family.

 

 

On Tuesday afternoon we made the decision as a family to move our protest from the grounds of City Hall, and continue it while we stayed in an emergency shelter for homeless family – at a motel on Kingston Road called The Lido Motel.  In fact, it is the same motel that is right next to the one we are now staying in, for the past six months.  We made that decision after we were informed by one of the senior assistants to the mayor of Toronto that the mayor would agree to take steps to address the concerns we had – only if we agreed to stay in an emergency shelter while he did so.  I did not buy his promise one bit.  He was only making this promise to get us to end our protest, and leave the premises of City Hall.

 

 

We were becoming an embarrassment to the mayor.  Or rather, our presence there as a homeless family living in a car, on the grounds of the headquarters of the government of the city of Toronto, was becoming an embarrassment to the political leaders of that city. City Television had stopped by the day before and interviewed us about our protest, and they were one of the most watched television station in Toronto at the time.

 

 

That was the last thing these politicians and bureaucrats wanted to see happening.  It also meant that the people of Toronto, as well as other media sources, would begin to show an interest in our story; and in the fact that we were living in a car on the grounds of the headquarters of the city’s mayor.  Before long, we could become a citywide embarrassment to the mayor, and topic of interest to the people of Toronto.  So these politicians, and bureaucrats, were becoming very worried about that prospect, and they were willing to agree to anything that we asked for just to get us to leave there as soon as possible.

 

 

I saw very clearly that they had no intention of ever addressing our plight as a family, as this bureaucrat was trying to convince us.  But at the same time, if they were, that would also be the same things that they would have said to us. These were empty promises being made to my family, by a representative of a government that did not care, whether my family lived on the streets or not.  As long as we did not live on their own doorstep, we could go and jump in lake Ontario for all these politicians and bureaucrats cared.

 

 

But my family was taking a beating, and it taking its toll on us. We were becoming sore and stiff and drained from having to have to spend about twenty hours of each day sitting in our car, including the ten or so hours straight that we spend trying to fall asleep at nights.  From about nine p.m. each night to about eight a.m. each morning when the washrooms finally opened, we were confined in that small, cramped, two-door car.   We did not even have a radio or a car stereo in that car for us to listen to music or anything on the radio.  There was none in that 1982 car when we purchased it.  And we did not have the money to even put one in since then.

 

 

 So we spend all those twenty or so hours listening and looking at all the activities taking place around us.  At nights, we spent the time just relaxing speaking to each other about things that had happened to us earlier in the day, or about other things that were important to any of us or all of us as a family.  We had been well trained for those long hours we sat in that car for each of those seven days we were there at City Hall.

 

 

The four months that we were locked up inside our apartment home at 710 Trethewey Drive, the six months we had endured as a recluse inside our town house at 22 Driftwood  Avenue, and the year and a half that we spent locked up inside that dungeon in the ground at 720 Coxwell Avenue – these experiences had taught both of our two children how to live in isolation in a small, cramped space.  In fact, it was not much different.  We could not go anywhere, and we had to make ourselves comfortable where we were forced to stay.

 

 

But above all the problems that we encountered during that week – including the stress and strain of the crisis we were in the middle of – there was one problem that never got any easier.  And that was the challenge of trying to sleep each night in that small, tiny, little car.  We could not stretch out our legs, nor could we curl up, for even a minute during those ten or so hours that we tried to sleep each night in that car.  But we gave it a good try.  We put our twelve year old son in the driver seat because his legs were longer than his younger sister but still much shorter that those of his father’s.

 

 

 Andraggon squeezed his six feet five inch frame into the passenger seat next to him, because it was the seat that had the most legroom in that car.  It was also a seat that could slide back and give the person in it a few more inches of legroom, and it could also incline back as well.  So that was the perfect seat for him to sleep in each night, given what we had available.

 

 

In the backseat, directly behind my son, I sat with my feet partially up on the seat, because there was only about six inches of space left for me to place my feet on the floor of the car after my son pushed his seat back a few inches, to give himself a bit more leg room.  Our nine-year-old daughter placed her head on my lap, and curled her feet up on the seat as much as she could, to try to make herself as comfortable as she could, before she fell asleep.

 

For seven days and seven nights that was how my family slept for over nine hours each night: my son in the driver seat, his father next to him in the passenger seat, and my daughter curled up on my lap in the backseat.  I don’t know how we did it but I knew that we had to do it, and that we found the will, the discipline, and the endurance to do it.  I was sad that my family was forced to live this way.  We did not deserve to.  I am proud of the fact, however, that we were able to.

 

 

For that entire seven days, we remained calm, and kept our focus, while we stayed relaxed under extreme pressures and severe hardships that would have caused most families to cave in, and crumble, under that kind of intense mental stress and physical strain. We did not once argue with each other, nor did we ever even try to put down each other – even in joking. We laughed a lot during those seven days and nights. Laughter was the best medicine that we had brought with us for every kind of attack that came up against us.  Above all, we remained close and caring – just as I had taught my husband and our children to do.  And through it all there was always respect given and respect received from each of us for each of us. And there were lots and lots of love given and received from us to our children, and from them to us and to each other.

 

 

Though we were living in the eye of a very dangerous and powerful storm, we remain strong and hopeful and loving and focused and calm while we lived in the center of that storm.  But we were a family who lived in mortal bodies, and these bodies needed a little time, and a quiet place, to recuperate and recover from those eleven days we had spent living in our car, since we were evicted from our home at 17 Murray Road.

 

 

We decided to leave the grounds of City Hall, and continued our family protest inside the confines of a motel room, which was provided to us by the representatives of the mayor’s office through Social Services. In doing so, we were giving the mayor’s office time to make good on their promise over the next month or so, or at least give evidence to us they were making a serious effort to do so.  But we were also taking the time, to rest our aching bodies and relax our stressed minds, while we waited for them to do the right thing over that four week or so period.

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Excerpt from:

Life a Thief in the Night:

The Autobiography of an Ancient God –

who returns to Earth 2000 years later to fulfill the “Second Coming”

of Avatar Jesus of Nazareth!