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Books by Kalamu ya
Salaam
The Magic of JuJu: An Appreciation of the Black Arts
Movement /
360:
A Revolution of Black Poets
Everywhere Is Someplace Else: A Literary Anthology
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From A Bend in the River: 100 New Orleans Poets
Our Music Is No Accident /
What Is Life: Reclaiming the Black Blues Self
My Story My Song (CD)
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Interview with Award Winning Neo-Griot
Kalamu ya Salaam
11
Cultural & Political Work
Rudy: What do you think is the
dominant black cultural ethos today. You, I understand, are more
drawn toward a "community ethos." Is this related to
the neo-griot movement?
Kalamu: Commercialization and
apolitical creolization are the dominant cultural ethos today.
Neo-griot is, hopefully, an alternative.
Rudy: Could you further explain what
you mean by the expression "apolitical creolization"?
Kalamu: Creole refers to a mixture.
Our integration into the American society is a process of
creolization. If we are apolitical about it, then we accept the
status quo definitions of economics, politics and ethics. If we
were to politicize the process of creolization, we would at the
very least argue for and fight for specific modes of social
organization, of economic systems, of political systems. But, at
this point, all we argue for is a bigger piece of the pie. That
is what I mean by apolitical creolization.
Rudy: You have championed the
recognition and maintenance of a separate and vibrant black
identity. And through the various groups you have founded and
motivated, you have increased international awareness of
oppression. Is all of this activity related or connected to
other domestic movements that are struggling for social justice
in the USA?
Kalamu: I’m not sure that I
understand this question. but I do emphasize internationalism,
more so than domestic identification.
Rudy: I am not sure what you mean by
"internationalism." Marxists and communists used to
speak of internationalism. I know that you are neither. It
doesn’t seem to me that one can be everything and in every
place. Doesn’t one take care of home first? Might not we over
identify with other places and other times, while forgetting
that which is closer at hand?
Kalamu: Perhaps in the abstract. But
to really care about another, especially others who don’t
speak the same language, don’t wear the same skin, to really
care about other people, you have to have a profound
understanding of yourself as a person. I emphasize, as I say in
one of my poems, being a citizen of the world. And you are
right, "internationalism" is a loaded term, especially
since I don’t care much for nationalism of any sort.
But let me answer both on a more complex
and a more realistic level. Our comfort here in America is
brought to us by the exploitation and oppression of others all
over the planet. Indeed, there are not enough resources in the
world to support two Americas. There’s barely enough to
support one United States of America. Part of my self
understanding came about as a result of seeing the world,
interacting with other people in the world, understanding that
my existence in New Orleans is directly tied to people in
Africa, in China, in Haiti, and so forth.
I wear tennis shoes. I eat fruit year
round. I use a cell phone. I use a computer. I drive an
automobile. All of that is directly tied to a global economy
that exploits the labor and resources of oppressed people.
Sweet
Honey In The Rock has this song, "Are My Hands Clean."
The song follows the trail of how a blouse that a woman buys is
actually made, from cotton plant to retail store. And the song
asks, we go into the store and buy this blouse, are our hands
clean? By simply making a purchase, are we complicit in the
exploitation that is woven into the warp and woof of the
blouse’s fabric?
Rudy: You moderate e-drum, a
listserv of over 1500 subscribers worldwide that focuses on the
interests of Black writers and diverse supporters of our
literature. Do you manage it alone? Are you satisfied with its
progress?
Kalamu: I do e-drum alone. Spend
approximately three hours a day working on e-drum. Yes, I think
e-drum is doing important work. E-drum is an example of offering
an alternative. E-drum is part of my neo-griot duty to
facilitate the development of our culture putting the politics
of community empowerment to the fore and offering an alternative
to a capitalist orientation. This non-capitalist orientation is
far from complete.
On the one hand, e-drum is free to anyone
who wants to join. But on the other hand, I can not totally
escape the clutches of capitalism. In order to offer the service
free, I use a server that adds ads to the content. One
alternative is to go with a private service, pay a yearly fee
and not have ads attached. Another alternative is to build my
own server. My long range plan is to move to a private service
and ultimately be in a position to maintain my own server.
However, right now, it is more efficient for me to do it the way
I am as my financial resources are limited and my time even more
limited.
Rudy: You are a professional
editor/writer (playwright, poet, and critic), musician,
organizer, filmmaker, producer, arts administrator, and radio
host. You do extensive traveling and presentations in high
schools, universities at home and abroad. How do you manage to
have the time and energy for such a schedule of activities? What
motivates you, drives you to give so much of your energy and
time?
Kalamu: I manage because this is all
that I do and because I have the firm support of my wife, my
immediate family, and a far flung net of extended family,
friends and colleagues. The approval and support of that
community is a tremendous validation that enables me emotionally
to continue regardless of the hardships and obstacles. I get
emails from people worldwide letting me know how much e-drum
means to them.
Two weeks ago, I walked into a small
restaurant and bar in inner city New Orleans. I was there to buy
a catfish plate. While waiting for my order, the brother sitting
at the bar next to me called my name. We struck up a
conversation. He remembers me from the seventies. He is a
welder. He studies African cultures. Sema Swahili (speaks
Swahili) to me. Drops a Hausa phrase on me. If you saw him, the
last thing you would think is intellectual. His speech is not
proper nor laced with big words, but he is an organic,
working-class intellectual. He tells the waitress that I am a
great writer, and encourages me to keep writing.
Affirmation like that is a major fuel for
me, much more so than a positive review from a literary critic,
because although I, like everybody, like to get positive
reviews, there can be no greater positive review than a Black
person walking up to you on the street or in a bar, or a church,
or wherever, and telling you that your work is meaningful to
them, howsoever they might give you praise. Because of my
orientation, that brother in the bar means a lot to me. This
work that I do is my life, my religion. Just like many of the
jazz musicians I admire would say that jazz is their religion.
Well writing (in the broad neo-griot concept of writing with
text, sound and light) is my religion. And I am a devout
disciple. * *
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