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Trustor & Founder of Besorah NationYahudon has much given himself to the reading of the Law, and the prophets, and other books of the Hebraic ancestors, and had gotten therein good judgement, was drawn on also himself with Divine insight to write Besorah’s Declaration of Independence and design a constitution pertaining to the destruction of poverty, learning and establishing wisdom; to the intent that those which are desirous to learn and long to receive liberty from tyranny might profit much more in living according to true love and Divine Law. Yahudon is defined as Yahuah teaches.
Peace and love family and to all the righteous souls across the earth!
For centuries, the Black American—known throughout history as the ancient Moors and the Hebrews of antiquity—stood as a pillar of civilization and mastery. These were not merely marginalized people dragged into foreign lands; they were descendants of those who introduced the world to the sciences, arts, navigation, architecture, agriculture, medicine, and jurisprudence. But perhaps one of the most overlooked and devastatingly lost arts they once commanded was the sacred science of trust—a discipline not just of paperwork, but of divine strategy and economic sovereignty.
Wherever we were scattered across the globe—be it by forced migration, slavery, colonization, or political exile—we carried with us a powerful ability to establish trusts. This was not limited to financial trusts, but extended into trust-based communities, trade networks, spiritual brotherhoods, and legal instruments that allowed us to function autonomously, even while under oppressive regimes. Trust was more than a document. It was a code. It was the living mechanism by which turned ashes into empires.
History reveals that the establishment of trusts allowed us to conceal and protect wealth, preserve inheritance, and create internal systems of governance. In Spain, Africa, Asia, the Americas, and even within slave-holding nations, we as a people thrived in pockets because we understood divine law and how to wield it legally. We survived not by assimilating, but by anchoring ourselves in spiritual and legal truths that transcended physical bondage.
But the enemy, cunning and observant, did not sleep. They watched. They studied. And over time, they concluded that if these people were ever to be truly subdued, their superpower—their ability to organize, build legacy, and remain autonomous through trust—had to be dismantled. The result was the quiet, insidious weaponization of counterintelligence programs, most notably COINTELPRO. The silent war. It didn’t just target leaders; it targeted structure. It broke apart communities, sowed seeds of suspicion, and demonized unity.
COINTELPRO wasn’t just about infiltrating civil rights groups or assassinating charismatic leaders. It was a systematic effort to destroy the fabric of trust among Black Americans. Psychologically, it turned brother against brother. Spiritually, it disconnected them from their divine heritage. Financially, it robbed them through redlining, predatory practices, and tax systems designed to cripple generational wealth. Politically, it co-opted leadership. And emotionally, it made the Black man and woman afraid to trust even each other.
Today, we live in the aftermath. Black America is more divided than ever—not just by ideology or party lines, but by suspicion. Family lines are broken. Friendships are disposable. Movements are infiltrated before they can even form. There is a spiritual amnesia that has blanketed the minds of a people once known for their excellence in every human endeavor. But at the root of it all is the neglect of trust—the most ancient and divine of our inheritances.
To move forward, we must go backward—not to tradition, but to truth. The divine law that governed our ancestors still stands. Trusts are not merely legal documents; they are spiritual contracts that acknowledge divine sovereignty, familial legacy, and sacred duty. It is time we begin again to write. When faith falters, the pen must speak. When unity seems impossible, the covenant must be made visible. This is not just paperwork—it’s prophecy.
By reestablishing trust, we can create legal structures that protect our assets, families, and movements. We can build institutions that cannot be easily dismantled because they are not housed in personality but in principle. We must teach our children the language of trusts—not just in courtrooms, but in kitchens, schools, and congregations. We must make it second nature to memorialize agreements, protect intentions, and enforce legacy.
This is how we regain power—not by protest alone, but by pen, principle, and purpose. The divine law we once honored gave us the framework to build kingdoms. It is still alive. It waits for a people bold enough to reclaim it, to write again, to declare again, to trust again. Trust is not a risk; it is a return.
The war we face now is not only external—it is deeply internal. It is a battle for the mind and the memory. We must remember who we are. We must recognize that the power to organize, to build, and to rise was never fully destroyed; it was merely forgotten. And now, in this age of awakening, we are called to remember, to rebuild, and to reestablish.
Let this be the generation that rewrites the narrative—not with empty slogans, but with powerful trust agreements backed by divine wisdom. Let us once again be a people who master the unseen arts—who know how to build dynasties from faith and scrolls, from law and love. Let us never again neglect the power we once held sacred. The world waits. The ancestors are watching. The pen is in our hands.