|
ODE
TO A MAGIC CITY
By Rudolph Lewis
i.
Crossing
Lake Pontchatrain, dark as a turbulent sea, the Crescent rushes in a rainstorm to the city, to New Orleans, Big
Easy, to my soul's longing. I hear the choo-choo music of the
wheels shaking and
rocking, bringing it all home.
At
the station, I'm in her monster red truck, we head downtown to
Bywater, she at the wheel, her angelic face older than I remember,
always and ever a mother, embracing you and chiding you in one
breath. Shaking fences, locking doors. And you can't help from
loving her, if you any man at all. She's Beauty and Truth.
Up
St. Claude to Poland, it's as yesterday this sameness as if
nothing ever changes what was and will always be. Houses
clapboard, wood primeval as Peter and the heavy rock of despair.
Exteriors are illusions, mirrors. It's a genie's world inside a
New Orleans house, smells that draw you into mystery and
enchantment. It shatters one-dimensional being into so many atoms
of mercurial wonder.
ii.
An
African storyteller with numerical tables from cargo logs of ships
flying the flags of France and Spain and Caribbean Creoles, of
murder and greed and hatred and love of black babies and African
mothers: a dedication and a reminder to the blind and deaf of what
humanity is to humanity. An ancient Gwen at Dante and Plum with
banana trees by her porch. Happy Birthday! You space age griot!
May you live a thousand more!
I'm
not that far from Texas yet there's nothing but New Orleans, even
if I must cross streets water rushing above my ankles clothes
hanging heavy ever drawn to terra
firma, spirit pulled ever down. A million desires satiated in
a Riverwalk, a monument of Morial's leadership in creating a
modern-day Gomorrah. And it is still and always New
Orleans—food, music, dance, songs of adventure. A place of
romance you want to be. Cry New Orleans! Cry zillions of tears for
the dead that still walk these cobbled streets, drenched souls
that won't let you alone, haunting ever all who take root.
iii.
New
Orleans is an elephant drumming in the Congo Basin. Every ear
can't hear what's happening. A city with a message that keeps on
coming, keeps on drumming, drumming. Marching to cemeteries in the
mind.
New
Orleans at the millennium, dying in the poems of Brenda Marie
Osbey, the complaint languishes like a lullaby, an antebellum
song, a beautiful table of promise that leaves you wet, wondering
why not more. I love New Orleans in all its Beauty and Truth, like
a poet named Yusef from Bogalusa.
iv.
What
are wireless networks but zombies, painted white death of tribal
lore. It always comes back to the word, to who is master of the
dead. Rise! Black Man! Black Woman! Dream! In Big Mama, Big
Daddy's House of Magic, the dice rolls, no need for care. Can't
you hear the drumming, sweet palm sway of the elephant drum.
Steady! Druuum, druum! Steadily, on and on! That's New Orleans all
night, all day, pleasing all who embrace her, a healing touch that
makes the dead live again. She tosses pearls before the unloving,
the uncaring, those who ain't got no place to go.
Rock
me baby! Rockuh me all night long! I said rock me baby! Rockuh me
all night long! Help me baby! Rockuh me! Roll me all night long!
I say baby dontcha do me wrong!
v.
New Orleans is a lover like a driver in a brand
new automobile who breaks your heart, opens your hood, and fumbles
around with your wires. I talk to my lover at the river's bend.
Always turning away from that fatal loss. That moment she walked
away. We
lunch at Madeleine's. Thirteen years of silence and this moment,
smoked turkey breast, spinach quiche, and coffee. We talk of Bob
Kaufman and Marcus Christian. Of dissertations and publishing
books, of poetry and of the heartbreak of poverty. With books and
food, we never speak of love.
. . . No never love . . .
There's
always the drumming, the silent drumming. Harsh memories and old
hurts beneath hearing. Oh the blues! The blues! The blues of New
Orleans! The milk and blood of this Creole woman. I love you New
Orleans. I am gonna love you, love you till I die!
For
New Orleans is Nommo, seat of eternal fires, in a hollow just
beyond Congo Square. New Orleans is song beyond her hurt and
pain. New Orleans is celebration, costume, and ritual. New Orleans
is a woman you love but can never possess.
Viva New Orleans! Vive Nommo! Long Live the Magic City!
1990
*
* * * *
Didn't He Ramble Buddy Bolden
in New Orleans Buddy Bolden
Short Story
*
* * * *
| Members of Bolden's band included:
William Warner or Frank Lewis (clarinet);
Willy Cornish (piston trombone); Brock Mumford (guitar); James Johnson (bass); and
Cornelius Tillman or McMurray (drums).
Buddy Bolden Band. Charles
"Buddy" Bolden, 2nd from left in rear |
* * * * *
music website >
http://www.kalamu.com/bol/
writing website >
http://wordup.posterous.com/
daily blog >
http://kalamu.posterous.com
twitter >
http://twitter.com/neogriot
facebook >
http://www.facebook.com/kalamu.salaam
*
* * * *
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
John Henrik Clarke—A Great and Mighty Walk
* * *
* *
* *
* * *
|
Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in
America
By Melissa V.
Harris-Perry
According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.
Professor Perry
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
Caucasian babies.
As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
indiscriminately.
|
 |
* *
* * *
 |
Sex at the Margins
Migration, Labour Markets and the Rescue Industry
By Laura María Agustín
This book explodes several myths: that selling sex is completely different from any other kind of work, that migrants who sell sex are passive victims and that the multitude of people out to save them are without self-interest. Laura Agustín makes a passionate case against these stereotypes, arguing that the label 'trafficked' does not accurately describe migrants' lives and that the 'rescue industry' serves to disempower them. Based on extensive research amongst both migrants who sell sex and social helpers, Sex at the Margins provides a radically different analysis. Frequently, says Agustin, migrants make rational choices to travel and work in the sex industry, and although they are treated like a marginalised group they form part of the dynamic global economy. Both powerful and controversial, this book is essential reading for all those who want to understand the increasingly important relationship between sex markets, migration and the desire for social justice. "Sex at the Margins rips apart distinctions between migrants, service work and sexual labour and reveals the utter complexity of the contemporary sex industry. This book is set to be a trailblazer in the study of sexuality."—Lisa Adkins, University of London |
* *
* * *
The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
* *
* * *
Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
If you like this page consider making a donation
* * * * *
Negro Digest /
Black World
Browse all issues
1950
1960
1965
1970
1975
1980
1985
1990
1995
2000
____ 2005
Enjoy!
* * * * *
The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
/
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery
* *
* * *
The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
* * * * *
* *
* * *
updated 8
July 2008
|
