Buddies and the American Dream

By Ben Dosso

Buddies are well-organized groups of teen hackers from Ivory Coast, West Africa. They can hack anything they want. They scam international institutions, credit and debit cards, international humanitarian organizations, armies, transport companies and more.

They work hand-in-hand with bank workers, law enforcement officers and men in power of different countries so that they can safely blow thousands of dollars in one night to have fun in nightclubs in the best cities around the world and scam the next day again for fun. They come with the mission of hacking to the west for vengeance and go back to Africa. Will they ever be caught?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781638297970

Ben Dosso

Ben Dosso is a descendant of the clan of hunters and powerful warriors in the former kingdom of Mandingo, West Africa. He came to the western world with a strong team of buddies in order to wisely seek revenge from western leaders without hurting anyone for the little mistake in the distribution of humanitarian help, official development assistance during the second Ivorian civil war in 2011, and mostly for their ignorance and lack of adequate study skills about others in their foreign policy.

Book preview

Buddies and the

American Dream

Ben Dosso

Austin Macauley Publishers

Buddies and the

American Dream

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgment

Allegan

The Weekend

Spring Break

Prom

Diasso

My Roots

About the Author

Ben Dosso is a descendant of the clan of hunters and powerful warriors in the former kingdom of Mandingo, West Africa. He came to the western world with a strong team of buddies in order to wisely seek revenge from western leaders without hurting anyone for the little mistake in the distribution of humanitarian help, official development assistance during the second Ivorian civil war in 2011, and mostly for their ignorance and lack of adequate study skills about others in their foreign policy.

Dedication

This book is especially dedicated to my biological mother and grandmothers owing to their great job done for my basic education.

Copyright Information ©

Ben Dosso 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Dosso, Ben

Buddies and the American Dream

ISBN 9781638297956 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781638297963 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781638297970 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022921286

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street,33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

A special thanks to the entire extended family members in Niokosso, the hometown of my ancestors, and friends for their help.

In the middle of January, the airplane of the American dream took off from the runway in Orly Airport at 3:00 p.m., Paris time, to New York. It was Tuesday, 17th January 2017 on the Gregorian calendar, to be exact. A Tuesday full of happiness and sadness. It was during the coolest season of the year that they called winter. It would come between autumn and spring, they said. I did not know much what the winter was. I at least knew what summer was. I was used to this season.

Summer was the 365 days straight in my home country besides a few days of harmattan under the feet of skyscrapers above the Ébrié Lagoon in Abidjan and few months in the north. But when I saw the famous and luminous skyscrapers in famous and largest cities in U.S., my big ego told my whole body that we would be hanging out with all superstars of rap music and Hollywood the next day. With this great joy in my mind, I was not focused on my miserable life anymore. I rather felt like the heir of Mansa Musa.

If every day could be an amazing day for all children in the world like the Tuesday I am talking about right now, the world would be an endless paradise for all mothers on Earth. It was the end of the immeasurable woe that had struck me for more than half of a decade, and the day the mother of freedom opened her hand of happiness and gladness to me and my buddies. It gave me a strength in my weakness.

On board of the airplane of the American dream, we flew over three continents the same day. There were hundreds of passengers. Before arriving in Paris, we spent two hours in the air from the Great Maghreb, where the airport security officer had searched me down to my underpants. He did not trust me. I had the head of a thug, and he believed he would find something illegal concealed on me. He searched under the soles of my shoes and under my tongue. I bet if he had a small knife, he would have used it to open my belly and see if there were pills concealed in my stomach.

He was shocked that his incomprehensive search was a waste of time. He found nothing, and he let me pass while keeping an eye on me. So, I used appropriate slang words of broken Darija to thank him, thinking he was a new Berlin wall between me and my American dream. And he pulled his middle finger out of his pocket to let me know that he had really appreciated what I had just said to him. No worries if you would be shocked because of this work accident and this system of racial profiling set up by the police. We are used to it. Thugs and police are always best homies in the world. And this tumultuous friendship would exist for long decades because of their interest in the street.

Like my home bunny, Grandma used to say, One doesn’t see flies flying around the anus of a child for nothing. That can happen when there is still a little piece of shit in his shithole. She meant some human relations of nowadays are mainly based on direct or indirect interest. But police would pretend being worst enemies even rivals abusing their power when it would be about law enforcement because thugs are generally good job providers for police but less respected because they do not let themselves be fooled about tax payment, like other job providers and all workers and taxpayers would do when the government would want to raise quick cash through tax in order to finance wars that would cause countless victims under the cover of fight against terrorist network. No thugs, less job for police, and less budget for government.

Only police know the degree of enjoyment when thugs make their tax payment in cash leaving no trace. And those who would look like us (thugs) outside of this cat-and-mouse game are conflated with those who would be seeking to harm others and are targeted for not cooperating very well with law enforcement officers. That’s many reasons why the entire world would see a law enforcement professional kneeling on the neck of his fellow citizen with disregard for his life with all the intention to save a life. And plead self-defense while lawmakers would pretend waiting for evidence before acting.

George Floyd’s case, in 2020, was spread all over the world. It was the breaking news all over the world. It was in the countryside and small and large cities in France. The hosts of French national TVs made French people and all French former colonies believe that American law enforcement officers were the worst law enforcement officers on the planet in this hunting of people of color and the endless war against racism in their civilized world in order to choke the Adama Traore murder and many other teens.

But there is the same ancestral blood that runs in the veins of all Malinke people and their allies. We are peaceful and respectful. One would do whatever he would want. Malinke people and their allies would respect. They would never fight because our home bunnies, Grandparents would teach them kindness and respect of others, like one would want to be respected but we are also tenacious and unmerciful when one of family members would be attacked in any country. From Senegal to Ivory Coast. From Mali to all other countries in West Africa and around the world. We would fight back for a good reason.

Attacking family members for any no-good reason is taken as attacking all family members. They will back one another up to show the solidary that our nice home bunnies taught to fight back no matter the cost in honor of the alliance that links families since centuries. We will never give up even if thousands would lose their lives in honor of this family alliance to protect others. We would be responsible for all the consequences that would follow as long we would not earn our respect and get the good explanation of why we were deliberately targeted. Even if that could lead to overthrow this country.

But our American cousins do not know anything about this ancestral solidarity. Since their ancestors left the motherland, they themselves also have never tried to learn more about themselves nor their stories. When others told them that Africa was a big jungle full of many other wild animals, they swallowed this pill of fears and never plan to go back to learn a little about themselves. They would celebrate the arrival of their ancestors every year, but they do not want to learn anything about where they were from. And they want others to respect them while they do not know anything about themselves. And this George Floyd murder was rather a huge opportunity for them to sell more Black Lives Matter t-shirts than uniting to fight while being focused on police violence, gun control in order to protect life of all young adults we are losing across the globe because of police brutality.

Instead of victimizing themselves for long decades on national and international TVs, they should have the courage to go back to Africa first and then learn more about different histories of ancestors before figuring out to fight peacefully with good fundamental ideas of their different cultural values, traditions and social life to earn their respect back around the world other than using violence, like others did by violence.

Personally, I absolutely do not care about the word ‘racism.’ This word hurts a weakest mind. Being afraid of which you are made of is the lack of self-confidence of weakiest ones in the history. I do care much about exclusion. One will exclude others using their colors of skin to take control of them. And if you would not know the bottom line of this game of intelligence in advance, you will eternally lose in history of men. One must impose to others with memorable ideas as a winner in history but not as an eternal victim. Not this loser who would be eternally weeping over his poverty, misery and vulnerable living conditions in front of the door of his executioner.

Otherwise, shout all day long for freedom in front of the most powerful who already know the source of all terrible mental and physical suffering inflicted on others, lack of freedom and all social unrests does not make a whole lot more sense to me. All about the money and power in this unmerciful and wicked world to be short in my ideas. To be free in mind and go on war against any powerful for freedom and change for harsh living conditions are quite simple. Never try to use violence. Otherwise, they would find a way to send their peaceful police to bring order in.

So, people should use the mind wisely and turn off the faucet of their income for a minute. Any powerful would immediately find a diplomatic way to negotiate than using force. People will know how powerful they are. They will be in control of everything. They will know that shutting off the faucet of income of any most powerful for just one day will have a significant echo around the globe than long decades’ fight for freedom. The power does not belong to the most powerful in the world. The power of most powerful is in hand of weakiest ones.

The true power belongs to these smartest weakiest people in their quest of seeking revenge when they would wisely use their intelligence to fight. Because any intelligence service cannot control a courage one, who is heartily determined to bring justice for himself, his and all in all means. Only furious people who would use force and violence to be free in order to bring justice for all.

I am not a peacemaker nor a peacekeeper. I am not an interpreter nor a messenger for voiceless ones. I was a troublemaker since I was teenager for many. And then I became a changemaker for others when I was younger. But none of those people knows me very well. None of those words cannot describe me. And I am not a good example to follow either. I am a potential game changer in my favor and change this regard of centuries of a starving kid from Africa stuck on me and then compete with the entire world with my furious thoughts and conquer the western world in my misery before going back home to my own story and my identity of a dozo.

It is easy for me because I was just a good listener when my nice home bunnies (grandparents), homeschool teachers, were teaching me all important lessons that one should learn early on in life, like our grandparents do in my culture. Now I am a revenge seeker in real life like my ancestors used to do when they were attacked. A furious teenager in an unmerciful world without promoting violence. I am this smart young adult revenge seeker in my world of teenager because I am one of grandchildren of a former great warrior from a land of revenge seekers who have never tolerated any kind of impunity in order to bring justice to all.

So, I took a chair in my captivity and appealed to my everyday buddies, a pen and scrap paper to help me analyze the weak side of all best homies and nice enemies in order to greatly appreciate all most weakiest people and most powerful, men and women, young and old for having the greatest and genius idea of planning to take me out in this American dream but they forgot there is always an exception in everything.

People love to talk about others’ business rather than their own. But if parents do not take their responsibility as genitors to take care of their children, there would be many broken kids in the streets and some heartless people would use them and police would have more job to do. Because the one who would control all the four corners of the street would be the wealthiest person in the world. Given that the monthly revenues of the street are a lot than the yearly budget of all the powerful countries in the world, but controlling the street also means to be a ruthless murderer using others to do the dirty job.

As long as there would be more money in the street, many young people would be murdered in cold blood. That would be unavoidable. And all heads of organized crimes and criminal organizations would be out of jail on bail including the government in its mission of maintaining order in. Because legalizing marijuana and drugs, guns and others is to take control of the market of all wrongdoings pretending to protect the population from violence. Strong power would push people to be outlaws and do unlawful activities. There is always a strong and cruel law to severely punish citizens when central government would not make any profit of something. Any wrongdoing is legal when local authorities would make profit of it.

Personally, there is no good or bad drug dealer, government, activist, organization, dictator, democratic leader and many others. There is no good nor bad thing in life. Everything depends on one’s interest. It is always good when it is one’s favor even if it is not good for others, but it can be bad when it is not one’s favor even if it can be good for others.

So, the smart one is the one who knows how to bribe or convince bad and good people to get whatever he would want. And this smart one is always seen as a public enemy number one by all structural institutions for knowing the mystery of all smartest ones in the world in their wrongdoings. And forcing others to respect law and order is the deep cause of destabilization of western world by explosive bombers and mass kidnapping of westerners around the world because lawmakers themselves never respected any law, even their International Human Rights law when they are going to burn thousands of people under the well-doing of Official development assistance, food assistance program and their endless fight against unknown diseases in developing countries.

On the other hand, any powerful country that would take over Africa and famish its billions of people would be the wealthiest country in the world. But that would be nearly impossible to take over the motherland in next decades. Because there is a new generation with new ideas. And this new generation is open to the whole world and new partnership. This new generation came to understand things that settlers used to hid away from the entire world. And that’s blowing the start of an air of revolution, frustration and civil disobedience on horizon.

So, to persuade this new generation it would be better to come to them with ideas of win-win-partnership than colonial ideas that French leaders are still focused on for long decades, sending troops to burn thousands of children each year in their former colonies under the cover of fight against terrorist network.

All commercial flights coming from Arabic countries are generally considered as ‘explosive bombs.’ They are high-risk according to international politics. And the airport security believed that I was a mule, an envoy of the smuggling organization to transport illegal drugs to western world. I looked like someone who was not used to traveling to airports. And it was my first time to board an airplane anyway. But what he didn’t know was that I will never be an illicit product seller. Illicit product, and what It represents, disgust me so much that I would never advise my buddies to smell it nor use it. Because it could destroy one’s life in a split-second.

In fact, the airport security was right of being in a circle of doubt because of my appearance. He was doing his job. Unreasonable searches were part of his duty. Apparently, I would look like a cold monster than an angelic teenager. It is nearly impossible to shake my hand if one never saw me before. Because I look like pretty much a gangster than a thinker. My band of buddies have even named me ‘le petit clochard intello.’ Little smart hobo because of the combination of my vision for a free world without border and my lifestyle of a little thug of a dangerous neighborhood. And some people are afraid of a strange person.

But I am who I am. This is who I am. It is just a problem of physical appearance. Otherwise many people are shocked all the time after finding out my lifestyle of a bad broken dude hides my great sense of humor and enthusiasm even if it could be hard to read a little smile on my face. There are only some curious people who know me very well when they read my appearance backward and meet the empathy, flexibility, generosity and simplicity of the pretty cool cat that I am. And this life full of gladness can only happen inside of me. That’s the reason why I am warmly welcomed by only the broken bad dudes, hopeless kids disowned by their parents wherever I would find myself rather than good people.

Like the old saying goes, Birds of a feather flock together. But my grandma told me, If the first pick in a bag filled with peanuts is damaged didn’t mean the whole bag should be thrown away because it would be damaged. And she added, If one sorted very well, he could get at least a good seed. She meant that appearances could be deceptive.

There would be always good and bad in anything and nice people everywhere according to her. She was right because there are only these mournful children with bad appearance who would show me love and more affection all the time and push me against my will to be a goodwill ambassador of street towards people of good will without the presence of their genitors.

The next step of our American dream provided hours in the air where we floated between the sky and the clouds without a stopover. Unfortunately, the weather was bad, and the sky was cloudy. As we drifted through the white and azure colored clouds, the flight attendants served us something to eat. They called it ‘a snack.’ But to my buddies and me, it looked like a meal from an upper-class restaurant. Everyone was focused on what the flight attendants had served him. We were accustomed to eating with our neighbors and using hands like we do in many African cultures, but as I looked around everyone had headphones in their ears as if it was a U.N. General Assembly.

There were only extended families with a man at the head in Mandingo. Groups of women or men would sit around a big plate of food, and eat together so that everyone can get some, even neighbors on their way can wash their hands and eat. They pass the same cup of water around to drink and thank each other after eating, likewise women for cooking. They wash their hands before and after the meal in the same bowl for familial links and love.

This cultural heritage will be pass for generation. Grandparents would do this meticulous work to educate their grandchildren with a kindness. Do not try to use the left hand to eat. Otherwise, the elders would pull your ear as a sign of warning. It would be disrespectful when one would use the left hand to eat. It would be what we would use when using a restroom. But they are always indulgent in education of children when a stranger would use his left hand to eat. A stranger has the status of a mansa (king) in Mandingo regardless of his social status, color and belief. He deserves the full respect, but he could also loss this tittle of mansa and respect if he breaks the rule of tradition many times and keeps going against cultural values after many warnings.

Kiddos, however, would break this rule of eating together as a family and embarrass their mothers sometimes. They cannot control their impulsion. The raw truth would come straight out of their mouth when they would be so happy or nervous. When you are not a family member and you would keep coming to eat, they would curiously observe and try to learn more about it with their curious disturbing questions. They know tonton stands to respect a man and tantie for woman.

They would use one of these words and ask their disturbing questions. Why are you coming here to eat all the time? Doesn’t your mom give you food? They would innocently say and then answer their own questions. Ooh, she is not nice. They would unconsciously ask questions of their curiosity while laying on that person’s knees. And their mother would be embarrassed. "Kids, don’t ask a guest this kind of questions. Go back and say sorry to tonton," their mother would uncomfortably say.

"Sorry, tonton, my mom said kids don’t ask this kind of questions," they would say.

You are so polite. You are so cute, the guests would say while smiling but so embarrassed. Kiddos would eat together or with their grandparents most of time. They would play their kiddish together in their plate. People act like kiddos when they get older. Age at which adults are less naïve and cruel. Age at which these cold monsters would change their coat of devil for the cover of angel to keep their grandchildren safe.

These former social discrimination makers,