Masiqi is a Vietnam veteran and clinical psychologist serving African-Americans in Washington, DC and the surrounding communities. Suddenly he is dragged into mayoral politics, drug dealing, and murder. How he handles indecisions about his own life forms the core of this sexually charged thriller featuring Toni Baker Campbell, the first African-American mayor of Washington, DC, and Randolph Torrance, the white newspaper publisher who wants to destroy Masaqi's reputation.

The Mloona Syndrome explores the development of self-respect as a starting point for respecting others. To do otherwise, author Ron Brown suggests, is to make love out of nothing at all.

EXCERPT FROM RON BROWN'S THE MLOONAA SYNDROME

CHAPTER ONE

The day was slightly overcast. White, billowy clouds, resembling cotton candy, lounge against the grayish blue sky, while the sun pouted, resigned to play hide and seek. Tall trees, decked out in their most colorful, seasonal finery, cast long, dark shadows on the cobblestone road leading to the church. A tapestry of orange, red, yellow and purple leaves encouraged by a gentle, but persistent breeze, made their exit gracefully downward to fallen brothers and sisters awaiting them on the ground. Nature's awesome and breathtaking beauty while mesmerizing were clear-cut signals that fall had arrived. He liked fall; no, he loved fall. Fall has freshness about it. No other season came even close to matching its seductive solitariness and moody radiance. Only fall, with its crispness and reinvigorating climate could usher in a new look, fresh possibilities, different challenges as well as the opportunity to figuratively and literally 'turn over a new leaf.' Against this autumnal backdrop, a very animated discussion is taking place among a handful of African-American youngsters, ages twelve to fifteen, as they stood on the steps of Saint Catherine's African-American Episcopal Church. They were participants in the Black Achievers Program, in which he mentored. They were from a variety of income and grade levels. Their gestures and facial expressions told him that the subject must be a hot one, as they wait for a parent, more than likely their mothers, to pick them up. He caught the action through a basement room window in the adjoining Sunday school building as he put the last few remaining copies of handouts away into his briefcase. A young sister, with long braids and round glasses on a coffee-colored face, was leading the discussion. Her little head was moving from side to side; one hand on her hip, the other is pointing a forefinger at one her companions. He is shorter, stockier, and honey colored; a cherub-looking little boy, whose eyes have suddenly turned the size of saucers.

As he watched with some amusement at what he surmised was taking place, he heard a familiar voice over his shoulder say, "I'd say that you really got them stirred up by the way that little sister is rocking!" He turned to see M.K., one of the other Adult Black Achievers, a CPA and the owner of a small accounting firm. M.K., as Martin Knowles liked to be called, was a short, wiry-built man in his mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair. He was a regular at the house parties hosted by Kena Crippen, a close friend of Masagi. M.K. could be counted on to support most of the social and civic functions taking place in the community. Although it was said that he tried to make up for what he lacked in height with a boatload of clothing and the latest expensive toys, he was basically a good guy. He, like Masagi, after getting up early on a Saturday morning to be here at eight o'clock, was leisurely packing up to leave. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a small plate filled with fruit and a sausage and biscuit in the other. Nattily dressed, as always, he too, seemed to be getting a kick out of the little scene that was taking place in front of the church.

"Whoo--wee," he said between bites and sips, "Doc, you went extremely deep on them this morning, and this is our first meeting, too. They were asking me about your question, "Who was it that said, 'You never know what a day will bring, so live every moment to the fullest; and whatever you do, as much as possible, be in full possession of yourself?' What did you have for breakfast? I mean...uhm...but hey man, they seem to like your stuff! You know, 'that men and women are both deserving of respect and that respect emerges from feeling and knowing that you're someone special without having to do anything! And whatever you do, it's all icing on the cake!' I'd bet this is the exact observation the little sister is attempting to bring home to brother-man there. Man, Masagi, with all that stuff, you really had them ready for my session on 'How to Dress For Success!'"

"Thanks, M.K.," he said, "It sounds great that we will be able to serve as building blocks for each other as well as for the kids. And your session, it's bound to change some minds about all of this peer-driven, grungy-looking, baggy clothing, our kids are wearing down to their ankles!"

"So, you don't like that style either, eh?" M.K. asked.

"It's not so much a matter of not liking or liking it, he said. "I'm more inclined to think that the clothing you wear says a great deal about how you think, feel and see yourself!"

"Yeah, I hear that man," M.K. said, "but the kids, uhm...well you know...uhm...they seem to view it differently...uhm...as, you know, a generational-type thing. And at this time, their thing is baggy clothing! In fact, they feel as though they have received some confirmation because even Chuck is dressing like them. You know, you can drive over to Georgetown and see formerly dressed preppy little white kids all dressed up in baggy clothing down to their knees and baseball caps turned around backwards on their little red and blond heads! Now even you have to agree that that kind of influence is hard to beat, Masagi. I mean, especially when they start picking it up and all!"

"Just when I began to think that we were truly invisible, you tell me that not only has our music, dance, and language been co-opted, but now even our 'clothing' is popping up everywhere and 'influencing' how the larger Caucasian society is behaving! You know, M.K., that stealth-bomber type of influence and a fare card worth about five dollars will get you the Metrorail! The point is that we as a people, for all the cultural influence we have supposedly imparted, have yet to derive much of the benefits."

"So, what are you saying, Masagi?" M.K. complained. "You know it is still relatively early and you've gone way too deep for me, man!"

"Sorry, man," he said. "I can be like that sometimes, I guess. But uhm, all I'm trying to say is that we, all of us Adult Black Achievers, didn't get up this early in the morning to make these kids in the program more acceptable to the larger society! You, the other Adult Achievers, and me, we're all potentially acceptable! You know, we all speak the King's English, are college-educated, drive good cars, and keep our homes and property up! So, we're all acceptable, but highly invisible, until one of us acts the fool, and then we all become highly visible in a negative light! So the other folk's kids are dressing up like ours; does that make you happy, M.K.? If that's the case, then what's the need for your session? What's 'Dress for Success' all about then?" He paused for a second to catch his breath and to give M.K. a few seconds to digest his little sermonette.

Picking up where he left off, he said, "I think the reason for your session, an important session I might add, is that you want our kids to learn that there are various possibilities out there for them to become worthy of respect. And that there are other choices available to them having to do with whether or not they believe they are essentially 'throw-away kids,' forced to raised themselves and thus, having to hide their ugliness in grungy, sometimes dirty, baggy, basically non-distinct clothing!"

"What I want, and I am assuming that what the other Adult Achievers also want, for these kids is for them to truly learn how to like, care about and respect themselves as individuals. And as a consequence of this developing self-appreciation, grow up to like, care about and respect others, especially those who look and sound like them! And if in the final analysis, they get to be 'acceptable' to other folk, fantastic! We'll just consider that merely the icing on the proverbial cake!"

"But, you're right. It is much too early for this sort of philosophizing. We better get our stuff together, and move on out of here before they lock us in!"

"You surely went there, man!" M.K. said. "No, you're already there! But yeah, let's get out of here so I can tighten up my stuff for next Saturday morning! I can tell Masagi, you're going to have the kids in your section really hopping!"

As they headed for the exit, Masagi said, "I know we're all going to move together to get them ready for the twenty-first century and beyond, my brother."

As Masagi and M.K. walked toward the church parking lot, they noticed that a few of the kids were still waiting. With big grins on their brown faces, the kids waved at them, and smiling like first time fathers, they waved back. The parking lot was a short distance from the church proper. They walked in silence, caught up in our own thoughts. When they reached M.K.'s car, a fire engine red, classic Porsche with a wind fin on the back, he spoke first. "Great day so far, man. And, if we keep this pace up, next Saturday will surely be a blast, eh? By the way, are you going to the show this afternoon?" Not waiting for an answer, he quickly moved to the heart of his question, "I'm told that a lot of pretty...uhm...no, I'm saying beautiful, and I do mean beautiful, ladies will be there; and they'll be looking to hook up with a cool-looking, neat dude that might fit your description. You know what I'm saying Masagi?"

Masagi knew that M.K. would be looking to hook up the single men in their small group of friends and acquaintances, so he said, "I know what you're saying M.K., but I really haven't given it very much thought. Kena called earlier this week and said he would leaving a ticket or two aside for me at the ticket booth. But, as I said, I really hadn't planned on being there. I'm really looking forward to going out and getting some exercise this afternoon. And, if I still feel like it, maybe I'll stop by before it's all over."

"That's what I can't figure out about you, Masagi. One minute you're out there, like this morning with the kids, mentoring, teaching, and philosophizing, and then the next, you're a private dude, a loner and stuff! What's the deal, Doc? You know, the kids were wondering if the way you go doing things, has anything to do with your name. Are they right, Masagi?" M.K. snickered.

"I'm not sure what to tell you my friend. But if you get to the fashion show, please give everybody my regards. Take care and we'll see you next week."

Masagi walked slowly towards his car. Once inside, he just sat there, looking at the church and thinking about the morning. It was a great first session with the kids, and he wanted to savor the moment. To tell the truth, he was pumped. Here it was Saturday morning and at eight o' clock, these kids had been alert, attentive and responsive. He had connected with them, leaping over generational lines and setting in motion the powerful mental wheels inside their little heads. Who knows, he thought, maybe they can change some minds and change some lives.

The setting for the program made Masagi feel good. He was grateful to Reverend Lucious Scott, minister at Saint Catherine's, for agreeing to host the Black Achievers Program at his church. If there were going to be major changes in their communities, then ministers and churches of all denominations were going to have to step forward and be counted. They were in the forefront during the 1960s Civil Rights Movement and must be present now for an equally important struggle for the hearts, minds and lives of our children.

Besides the minister, the other 26 Black professionals serving as Adult Achievers are equally impressive. They were concerned, dedicated, and committed to getting up bright and early on Saturday mornings for the next six to eight months. This was only the first session, but they all seemed acutely aware of being role models. The brothers seemed to be going out of their way to treat the sisters with the utmost respect and dignity -- and not just because they were in a church. He thought there was more to it! He firmly believed it had to do with wanting the youngsters in the program to know that although they were basically invisible to the larger society, black men and women could work together, and show respect for each other. Moreover, they could like each other without having to resort to aimless, recreational or opportunistic sexual gymnastics.

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