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Freedom Ain't Come
Yet!
By Aduku Addae
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Ev'rytime I
hear the crack of a whip,
My blood runs cold.
I remember on the slave ship,
How they brutalize the very souls.
Today they say that we are free,
Only to be chained in poverty.
"Slave Driver," Bob Marley |
Barbara
Gloudon's article appearing in the Jamaica Observer online edition
of July 4, 2003 evoked this Marley lament. Purporting to speak for
the South Africans, Ms. Gloudon remarked that: "They still
thank us for showing solidarity for the early ban which NW Manley
placed on South African imports and the intellectual support in
forums like the United Nations where we joined in keeping up the
pressure till freedom come." I cannot conceal my amazement at
this imbecility! What freedom is she making reference to?
In 1977 I was in the process of purchasing a woolen beret, the
then popular headwear for conscious/rebel youth, when an alert
brethren tipped me to check the label. The label betrayed
the origin. It was made in South Africa. Manley's embargo, like
the Jamaican motto, was an empty declaration.
The real, and often deadly, struggle against the Apartheid regime
in South Africa was waged by people all over the world who put
their lives on the line. People like Peter "Bush
Doctor" Tosh who was beaten by members of the beastly
Jamaican Constabulary Force and left for dead on the floor of the
Halfway Tree Police Station in Kingston.
How they brutalize the very souls! Today they say we are free,
only to be chained in poverty.
South Africans find solace and inspiration in the songs of the
Rastafari messenger but this refrain in their daily reflection has
transformed them into living Wailers. The consequence of their
"freedom" from the oppression of the white minority is
that they are chained in poverty by an ANC regime that has made no
attempt to change the underlying social and economic relations
which characterized Apartheid. White minority rule is now
more pervasive under the ANC regime than it had been under the
rogue regimes of the Boers.
Gloudon speaks disparagingly of the conduct of the House of
Rastafari applying such demeaning references to the brethren as
"The Next Lot", "Rasta-brigade", and
"zealots" in response to their public calling-to-account
of Thabo Mbeki on the matter of Winnie Madikizela's unjust
treatment in the Apartheid-run courts of South Africa. She charges
the brethren with being out of order but it is Ms. Gloudon who,
truly, is manifestly out of order in this matter. The
freedom fighters of the Rasta family merit the greatest respect
for their longstanding courage and dedication in service of the
African cause.
In the search for justice there can be no undue respect for
persons, or, institutions. We Africans who have suffered from the
most horrendous torture in consequence of deference for our
elders, which is at the foundation of the persistent rape of
Africa by the Europeans, have grown wise in our suffering and have
become very discriminating in according respect and deference to
elders. We are not frightened anymore into obeisance by age. We
honor wisdom and integrity not years. And, we do not defer
to those who do injury to our cause.
Mbeki's office does not make him sacrosanct. And, luckily for Ms.
Gloudon, her age does not shield her from criticism, for, she is
in sore need of re-education.
To tell the truth, not even ole bwoy Mandela is untouchable.
The Rastaman is the standard bearer for justice worldwide and
especially in Jamaica. Consider this scenario which Ms.
Gloudon recounts: "At the university on Monday night [June
30, 2003] where Mr. Mbeki
gave a public lecture, one of the zealots forgot himself, and
while he [Mbeki] was speaking, began shouting and waving a picture
of Mrs. Mandela. The rest of the room reacted with
disapproval. [My emphasis]. A large police officer quickly
took charge and the man was hustled from the room. The lecture
continued but the odour of the disrespect hung in the air."
Who was 'di onliest' freedom fighter in the lecture hall at UWI?
The Rasta man, of course!
There was an "odour" all right. It is an odor of
rank ignorance and cowardice on the part of the gathering and the
"large police officer" that symbolizes the Jamaican
mindset and practical disposition to matters appertaining to
Africa. Rasta people have consistently thrown themselves,
bodies and souls, against this twin affliction of ignorance and
cowardice. Long live the Rasta man and woman!
Winnie Madikizela's (I shall make no reference henceforth to the
name Mandela in connection with her) travails in the Apartheid
courts of the ANC-Boer confederacy, and her subjection to house
arrest, symbolize the qualitative state of the struggle against
Apartheid. The forces of reaction are struggling to contain and
'domesticate' [read localize] it. Winnie is the symbol of a
nascent worldwide African resistance against global capitalist
domination. It is a signal honor that the first voice to raise
this standard, to call out "Free Winnie!" wells up from
a lone Rastaman whose consuming passion for justice and Africa's
liberation drives him to "forget himself." And,
this as "the rest of the room reacted with disapproval."
Whither Jamaica?
It is not incidental that we speak of Africa as mother.
Women are at the very center of the struggle for African survival.
They are the major casualties in the multi-faceted war being waged
against Africa. For the most part they are the farmers, which the
mining interests seek to displace at any cost in blood. These
bearers of the seeds of nations, literally and figuratively, are
bearing the brunt of mortality from AIDS, the genocidal proxy wars
initiated at the behest of the global capitalists, famine, curable
diseases, social and economic dislocation deriving from the
structural adjustment programs of the IMF and the World Bank. The
war against Africa resonates with domesticity - it is a war
against women and children. Winnie's domestic incarceration (house
arrest) captures its essence. Winnie is "Mama
Africa" in a profoundly significant sense.
To free ourselves from the insidious, avaricious and destructive
grip of monopoly capital, a.k.a. globalization, we must echo the
call to free mama Africa. We must shout everywhere and at all
times Free Winnie!
African people let us Free Winnie!
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The Haitian Revolution, 1791 to 1804: Or, Side
Lights On the French Revolution
By Theophilus
Gould Steward
This is a reproduction of a book published before
1923. This book may have occasional imperfections
such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures,
errant marks, etc. that were either part of the
original artifact, or were introduced by the
scanning process. We believe this work is culturally
important, and despite the imperfections, have
elected to bring it back into print as part of our
continuing commitment to the preservation of printed
works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of
the imperfections
in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this
valuable book.—Amazon.com |
 |
The Haitian Revolution, 1791 to 1804. By T. G. Steward.
Thomas Y. Crowell Company, New York, 1915. 292 pages. $1.25.
Reviewed by J.R. Fauset. The Journal
of Negro History.
Vol. I., No. 1, January. 1916.
In the days when the
internal dissensions of Haiti are again thrusting her into the
limelight such a book as this of Mr. Steward assumes a peculiar
importance. It combines the unusual advantage of being both very
readable and at the same time historically dependable. At the
outset the author gives a brief sketch of the early settlement
of Haiti, followed by a short account of her development along
commercial and racial lines up to the Revolution of 1791. The
story of this upheaval, of course, forms the basis of the book
and is indissolubly connected with the story of Toussaint
L'Overture. To most Americans this hero is known only as the
subject of Wendell Phillips's stirring eulogy. As delineated by
Mr. Steward, he becomes a more human creature, who performs
exploits, that are nothing short of marvelous. Other men who
have seemed to many of us merely names—Rigaud,
Le Clerc, Desalines, and the like--are also fully discussed.
Although most of the book
is naturally concerned with the revolutionary period, the author
brings his account up to date by giving a very brief resumé of
the history of Haiti from 1804 to the present time. This history
is marked by the frequent occurrence of assassinations and
revolutions, but the reader will not allow himself to be
affected by disgust or prejudice at these facts particularly
when he is reminded, as Mr. Steward says, "that the political
history of Haiti does not differ greatly from that of the
majority of South American Republics, nor does it differ widely
even from that of France."
The book lacks a topical
index, somewhat to its own disadvantage, but it contains a map
of Haiti, a rather confusing appendix, a list of the Presidents
of Haiti from 1804 to 1906 and a list of the names and works of
the more noted Haitian authors. The author does not give a
complete bibliography. He simply mentions in the beginning the
names of a few authorities consulted.— J.
R. Fauset.
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African Revolutions
By
Mukoma wa Ngugi
Her womb pressed against the desert to
bear the parasite
that eats her insides like termites
drill into dry wood.
He is born into an empty bowl, fist
choking umbilical cord.
She dies sighing, child son at last. He
couldn't have known,
instinct told him - always raise your
arm in defense of your
own -Strike! Strike until they are all
dead! Egg shells
in your hands milk bottle held between
your toes,
you have been anointed twice, you strong
enough to kill
at birth and survive. You will want to
name the world
after yourself but you will have no
name- a collage of dead
roots, tongues and other things. You
will point your sword
to the center of the earth, duel the
world to split into perfect
mirrors after your imperfect mutations
but you will be
too weak having latched your self onto
too many streams
straddling too many continents, pulling
patches of a self
as one does fruits from an from an
orchard, building a home
of planks with many faces. How does one
look into a mirror
with a face that washes clean every
rainy season?
He has an identity for every occasion -
here he is Lenin
there Jesus and yesterday Marx -
inflexible truths inherited
without roots. To be nothing to remain
nothing, to kill
at birth - such love can only drink from
our wrists. We
storming from our past to Jo'Burg eating
wisdom of others
building homes made of our grandparent's
bones. We
gathering momentum that eats out of our
earth, We standing
pens and bullets hurled at you, your
enemies. Comrade, there
are many ways to die. A dog dies never
having known
why it lived but a free death belongs to
a life lived in roots,
roots not afraid of growing where they
stand, roots tapped all over
the earth. Comrade,
for a tree to grow, it must first own
its earth.
Source:
Zeleza |
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Ancient African Nations
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The Slave Ship
By Marcus Rediker
In this
groundbreaking work, historian and scholar
Rediker considers the relationships between
the slave ship captain and his crew, between
the sailors and the slaves, and among the
captives themselves as they endured the
violent, terror-filled and often deadly
journey between the coasts of Africa and
America. While he makes fresh use of those
who left their mark in written records (Olaudah
Equiano, James Field Stanfield, John
Newton), Rediker is remarkably attentive to
the experiences of the enslaved women, from
whom we have no written accounts, and of the
common seaman, who he says was a victim of
the slave trade . . . and a victimizer.
Regarding these vessels as a strange and
potent combination of war machine, mobile
prison, and factory, Rediker expands the
scholarship on how the ships not only
delivered millions of people to slavery,
[but] prepared them for it. He engages
readers in maritime detail (how ships were
made, how crews were fed) and renders the
archival (letters, logs and legal hearings)
accessible. Painful as this powerful book
often is, Rediker does not lose sight of the
humanity of even the most egregious
participants, from African traders to
English merchants.—
Publishers
Weekly |
Marcus Rediker
is professor of maritime history at the University of
Pittsburgh and the author of
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (1987),
The Many-Headed Hydra (2000), and
Villains of All Nations (2005), books that
explore seafaring, piracy, and the origins of
globalization. In The Slave Ship, Rediker
combines exhaustive research with an astute and highly
readable synthesis of the material, balancing
documentary snapshots with an ear for gripping
narrative. Critics compare the impact of Rediker’s
history, unique for its ship-deck perspective, to
similarly compelling fictional accounts of slavery in
Toni Morrison’s
Beloved and Charles Johnson’s
Middle Passage. Even scholars who have written
on the subject defer to Rediker’s vast knowledge of the
subject. Bottom line:
The Slave Ship is sure to become a
classic of its subject.— Bookmarks
Magazine
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Wild Women Don’t Have the
Blues
By Ida Cox
I hear these women raving 'bout their
monkey men
About their fighting husbands and their
no good friends
These poor women sit around all day and
moan
Wondering why their wandering papas
don't come home
But wild women don't worry, wild women
don't have the blues.
Now when you've got a man, don't ever be
on the square
'Cause if you do he'll have a woman
everywhere
I never was known to treat no one man
right
I keep 'em working hard both day and
night
because wild women don't worry, wild
women don't have no blues.
I've got a disposition and a way of my
own
When my man starts kicking I let him
find another home
I get full of good liquor, walk the
streets all night
Go home and put my man out if he don't
act right
Wild women don't worry, wild women don't
have no blues
You never get nothing by being an angel
child
You better change your ways and get real
wild
I wanna tell you something, I wouldn't
tell you no lie
Wild women are the only kind that ever
get by
Wild women don't worry, wild women don't
have no blues.
Born
Ida
Prather,25 February 1896 in Toccoa,
Habersham County, Georgia, United
States. Died 10 November 1967 (aged 71)
Genres Jazz, Blues Instruments Vocalist. |
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Guarding the Flame of Life
/
Strange Fruit Lynching Report
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The State of African Education
(April 200)
Attack On Africans Writing Their Own
History Part 1 of 7
Dr Asa Hilliard III speaks on the assault of academia on
Africans writing and accounting for their own history.
Dr Hilliard is A
teacher, psychologist, and historian.
Part 2 of 7
/
Part
3 of 7 /
Part 4 of 7
/
Part 5 of 7 /
Part 6 of 7 /
Part 7 of 7
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John Henrik Clarke—A Great and Mighty Walk
This
video chronicles the life and times of the
noted African-American historian, scholar
and Pan-African activist
John Henrik Clarke
(1915-1998). Both a biography of Clarke
himself and an overview of 5,000 years of
African history, the film offers a
provocative look at the past through the
eyes of a leading proponent of an Afrocentric view of history. From ancient
Egypt and Africa’s other great empires,
Clarke moves through Mediterranean
borrowings, the Atlantic slave trade,
European colonization, the development of
the Pan-African movement, and present-day
African-American history. |
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Hunger for a Black President /
Introduction I Write What I Like Biko
Biosketch Biko
Speaks on Africans
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updated 20 October
2007
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