The Life and Death of Johannesburg

I came from Zimbabwe in 1994 to south Africa as an infant on my mothers back. My mother's name was Winnebago Samarium....we are black Africans who can not run a country of our own. we have come all the way from the past to bring the rest of the world back down to it's knees. my hands are the shovels that the devil uses to haul white people back down to earth when they build beautiful cities out of nothing....then i moved to America on my brothers back...to Alabama and became an American... i remember that fateful day i decided to become a stranger of Pearl, Africa, the mother of the human being, a dreary creature made of many different colors, shapes, various sizes and very distinct personalities, which i refer to as trash because trash have very distinct colors, shapes, sizes, and...smells....my father was a fisherman in Zimbabwe and he could not read very well. he could not read at all. my mother got burned alive on the streets of Johannesburg for being Zimbabwe born. now i am homeless. help me. i went to America with my brother and a ninety nine year old white lady named Barbra...i call her bar bar the great white shark lady. she has purple hair. i want to become the first black man to die in America from my family. however, I'm alive today and I'm only 18 years old. I've been home schooled by bar bar on a farm in Alabama since i finally decided to leave my burned alive mother in Africa. i must go into America and prove that i can die a humble and none disgusting death... this is my story...?