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He mentored a host of students at high schools throughout New Jersey,

including East Orange High School, and taught creative writing

through the local libraries such as East Orange Public Library

 

 

 Before Becoming Historical  / Yictove (Eugene Turk) made his transition suddenly Saturday evening,  July 28th 2007

Yictove Obituary

Written by daughter, Chie Lunn

 Edited by friend, Sandra L. West

 

Eugene Melvin Turk—born February 28, 1946 in New Orleans, Louisiana and died July 29, 2007 in Newark ,New Jersey—was known to most as “Yictove.” He is survived by his daughter Chiemyah Lunn (me); and his four siblings Erna Blazio, Ann Lecompte, Consuello Elizabeth Battin, and John Carl Turk. He is proceeded in death by his loving parents Eugene and Malvina Turk.

He was a man that cherished life and embraced every moment, and he leaves many fond memories. Yictove was a gentle, loving man and possessed many great qualities. He was a loving father; a wonderful and caring brother to his three sisters and brother, and a dedicated friend to many. I was blessed to have been given away by my dad at my wedding on June 9, 2007 in Santa Monica, California to Philip, Nicholas and Christian Lunn, which brought him great joy and two new grandsons.

My dad was a brilliant poet, artist and chef.  He published two books of poetryD.J. Soliloquy was one title and Blue Print was another and he was working on his third.  He also had a CD, titled My Life, My Story. He was very dedicated to the artistry of writing and creating music.

In his life he mentored a host of students at high schools throughout New Jersey, including East Orange High School, and taught creative writing through the local libraries such as East Orange Public Library. He touched many with his optimism and creativity. He believed that everyone had the same potential to express himself or herself creatively as well.

He spoke and taught Hebrew, living a very spiritual life as an Israelite. From his spiritual life, he elected his name Yictove, which means “He will write.” He loved to travel all over he world. Some of the places he moved most were Jamaica, Venice, California, and Amsterdam. He had an extensive collection of music and enjoyed unique sounds and the energy of multicultural music.

Dad, I admire the way you lived; such spirit and conviction! You inspired me. You made me think, you made me laugh, you made me proud that you were the father in my life.

*   *   *   *   *

In Loving Memory of Yictove

Eugene Melvin Turk

February 28, 1946 – July 29, 2007

“Spirit is an invisible force made visible in all life. Your life was a wonderful example of everything good. And a beautiful reflection of God’s love.”

Service Held: Wednesday, August 1, 2007 at 10 a.m. Cremation Funeral: Lombardi Funeral Home /336 Cleveland Avenue, Harrison, NJ

*   *   *

Yictove's spirit was called up today! Folks gathered around his daughter in from China and his family and held them fast. Of course, poetry was read and, of course, we all acknowledged that, prolific artist that he was, Yictove—and the word Yictove means "he will write" according to his fellow Israelites—Yictove was watching, writing yet another poem to document the moment, making us feel soft and retrospective in places we had  never felt before, nodding our heads "yes" with a psychological bend to our collective neck, and that he was doing all of this in the name of love, without raising his voice, just raising his pen. One sister sang a blues song.

Zayid Muhammad led a clapping session . . . "Let us give this great man one more round of applause." Amiri Baraka blessed him with words.

Jacque Johnson was there when Yictove died. Thank God someone was. She described his death for us at the memorial service, and it sounds as though he had a stroke (she could not understand his speech) and a heart attack (after a while he just fell) and the entire episode took about 30 minutes, I think she reported. Jacque explained that he died peacefully, as he lived. He spoke to her as he was passing over uttering beautiful words. We should all exit with such grace. —Sandra West

*   *   *

I am sorry to hear about the passing of Yictove. He was very nice to me when I was going through a very bad time. I saw New York with very different eyes when I was with Yictove. A beautiful man and a beautiful soul. May he rest in peace.—Sheila b.

*   *   *

Sad news for me. I have known Yictove since he was a young man.  He read in the first Backyard Theater with me and with others.  A beautiful poet and a beautiful man.  We are planning a memorial reading, but haven't decided on location:  Maple Leaf or Gold Mine.  I knew his mother Malvina.  She died last year, but I didn't hear until much later..

Dave Brinks and James Nolan are working on a memorial service here.  I talked to Dave immediately after learning of Yictove's passing.  I just forwarded the last e mail you sent to  him.  I also heard from J. D. Parran, a musician friend of Yictove.  He lives in Manhattan I haven't caught up with him. 

I have lots of friends staying here, which makes me a bit slow at handling real life other than Katrina related people.  This was probably Katrina related.  I know how close Eugene  was to his mother.  More later. —Lee M. Grue

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Yictove Poems

Here are a few poems I dug up that were written by Yictove. . . . I've known him for years. Good solid brother.—Louis Reyes Rivera

Social Studies

 

School Board employs me

to substitute teach all

the pleasant teenagers

throughout this city,

kids who are multi pierced

and lipstick double dosed.

Weedheads and pill filled delinquents.

How can I save them from insanity?

How can I make them prone

to roam the streets of America?

How can I make them

irresponsible and carefree?

I do the best.

I read to them poems

of Bukowski and I dismiss

them before the final bell,

allowing them to walk

the halls with noise and laughter.

Days to come,

one of them might kill someone.

One of them might become president

of the United States.

All kinds of possibilities

in this school district.

 

*   *   *

  

FEBRUARY 28, 1946

 

I was innocently bystanding

when things all around me went crash whiz

went heat melting steel bullets.

I was in a daze and didn’t like it.

Legs felt weak.

Presumed rocky road before me

would not stop rocking.

Smoke filled sky.

Air I breathed was hot.

 

*   *   *

 

67

 

I didn’t go war.

I could not believe,

could not fumble with the blood.

in heady headache days

with purple sky I choose peace.

 

*   *   *

 

Reggae Dog

 

I gave my dog the name “reggae”

He’s a wise old dog

I say stay he stay

He’s a dreaddy dog

 

He’s dread that way

he barks roots rock reggae

fleas don’t bite him

because his skin’s too tough

 

bigger dogs don’t fight him

because he fights real rough

he likes to drink stout

and sniff my spliff

 

he likes to listen to the music that makes him drift

all the cats in the neighborhood stay away

and stay away they should

he walks the yard he walks it hard

 

*   *   *

 

From A Book

 

I like to read it from a book

I keep an optimistic outlook

in my kitchen I keep it hot

I like to cook

I call the cops on a crook

shake a bottle of juice,

juice shook I feel cool

my hands holding a book,

I like to read it from

a page you might think

it’s an outrage

I’m more than 50 years of age

brave enough for a stage

reading what I want from the page

I’ve got a key for your cage

I like to read it from a book

keep good stuff that I took

playing with king, queen and rook.

 

Shouldn’t let this upset you

what I do is nothing new

it’s insight keep it in view

you see me with a book

I’ve told you my kind of outlook

You’re realizing it’s true

you can listen weak or strong

what I’m saying is like a song

I like to read it from a book

you be the fish, I be the hook.

*   *   *   *   *

I had just heard from Yictove recently after his mother died, about a year ago, I think. Maybe it was sometime after he had sent me the obituary of his mother, On the Passing of Malvina Turk. He had mentioned that he had had Yusef Komunyakaa over at his Library Poetry Series and that he had mentioned my name and Yusef had smiled, maybe recalling the three of us in Algiers, across the river. And Yictove had talked about getting some money together and having me to come up to do a reading in the fall.

I suppose the last time I had actually seen him in the flesh was in 1988 or 1989, soon after I left Louisiana to return North. He introduced me to some poet and artist friends. They were mostly young ladies and I dated a couple briefly. I also talked to him on the phone a couple of times, more recently. But Newark looked like a war zone and I really didn't care for the city, or East Orange, or New York, for that matter. So I never got to visit him again up here. Oh yes, I think, our paths did across again in New Orleans and we visited Copasetic, run by the late Ahmose Zu-Bolton. Maybe Yictove knew Ahmose and I had had a falling out. I don't know but Yictove had that calming effect on you that make you feel all was right with the world. The visit to Copacetic facilitated an opportunity for Ahmose and I to make amends and smooth out our differences.

Sometimes we think we have all the time in the world with our friends and acquaintances and so we put off seeing them and talking to them. We think we have all the time in the world to get our heads and hearts straight, to conquer our fears, and do the things we ought. As our hair grows grayer and grayer, we still tend to feel within we still have forever to get the personal done. . . . I just recently pulled his poems and files together I have on ChickenBones and created a page for Yictove. I suppose that eased my guilt a bit that I had not given him more of my time and more of my person.

Yictove was indeed a gentle spirit. He liked to read his poems on the phone to you. I first heard him on the radio in New Orleans. I just loved his voice: he was doing an artistic rap, titled Tropical Love: "My name is Yictove and I try to stay clean/ I don't mistreat a woman and I don't be mean." New Orleans was then a very intimate city and you got to meet almost anyone who was doing things significant. And so somehow I got to meet Yictove, maybe it was through Yusef and I heard and saw him read live. I also got to meet his mother who showed me her photos of Haile Selassie when he had visited New Orleans in the 1950s. She made me copies and sent them to me. No charge. That was the spirit of New Orleans in the 1980s.

Yictove also had water colors. Very tropical paintings. They should have been printed and widely distributed but he never did. I do not know what became of them. Maybe they were lost when his mother lost her house in Gentilly New Orleans and was forced to die in Texas. . . . There is never enough time to get things done. There are always demands or commands that we are forced to follow. Yictove had a big heart and he was one who really just wanted to serve, to do good, to remake the world in a more pleasing rhythm, a more delightful spirit. But we never have enough time. It's always, it seems, too late.

*   *   *   *   *

Below are testimonies from the family of Yictove … remarks printed in the formal program for the day of his Memorial Service. I share them with the ChickenBones family. This is the anatomy of a true artist.Sandra L. West                               

            

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I didn’t know Yictove well but the short time we spent together touched me. He was a gentle man and full of spirit and told me many stories of travels to Jamaica and around the world. We got naked at the spa together and shared our souls in a hot tub. He will be missed.Philip Lunn: Son-in-law

 

*   *   *

My brother was a man of simple pleasures, but complex thoughts. His love for people and the love that people had for him was gentle and kind. He held a special place for the children he taught and he was well received by them all. Able to hold their attention with a meek and tender style, breaking through sometimes tough shells and helping them to realize their inner strengths in art, even if the lesson was in multiplication. His sense of humor and many silly jokes brought smiles and joy to those young and old. Nevertheless, he was loved.Erna Blazio: Sister

*   *   *

My most vivid memories of my brother seem to always center on our love for the culinary arts. From our childhood years, sharing Mama’s nightly cocoa snack, racing as we dunked slice after slice of bread in our cocoa, trying to see who would be able to devour more. To my first visit to New York as a young woman being dragged in and out of every restaurant, bakery, deli, or stand to taste “the best …” of everything you could imagine. His love for fine and exotic cuisine is something I will always remember.

Ann Lecompte: Sister

 *   *   *

I will always remember the artistic genius that lived in my brother. The way that he made words have new life from the written to the spoken word was something of an art in and of itself. As he spoke his voice boomed and oozed giving words new meaning. The Knitting Factory and the Library (East Orange Public Library) gave him the opportunity to help others grow and cultivate in the arts he so loved. He was a gentle teacher and had a gift with people of all walks of life. Not long ago he was in New Orleans and performed with Kid Jordan’s band an impromptu jam session where he read When the Dewdrop Drops. Though the performance was not rehearsed it was amazing in every sense, exemplifying the artist he truly was.Consuello Battin: Sister

 

*   *   *

Gene was everything a brother would want of a brother. He was selfless in everything and in everyway. He shared his music, his food, his ideas and he was the funniest person I knew. My brother was the only artist I ever knew, more talented than one could imagine. He had more drive, passion and desire. He was Peace!!!! He was true love, and belonged to me and everybody. His spirit will live forever. I miss him and love him.John Turk: Brother

 *   *   *

As a brother-in-law, he was more of the big brother I never had. He was one of the most peaceful souls to grace this earth. May his spirit live forever.Sharon Turk: Sister-in-law

*   *   *

Over all of the years (+20), I’ve never had an argument and I have never heard him raise his voice. I called him “a big bear … the gentle giant.” A soft and truly remarkable man, and an artist to the core.Jacque Johnson: Friend and Confidant

*   *   *

I Thessalonians 5:1-11

There is no need to write you, brothers, about the times and occasions when these things will happen. For you yourselves know very well that the Day of the Lord will come as a thief comes at night. When people say, “Everything is quiet and safe,” then suddenly destruction will hit them! It will come as suddenly as the pains that come upon a woman in labor, and people will not escape. But you, brothers, are not in the darkness, and the Day should not take you by surprise like a thief. All of you are people who belong to the light, who belong to the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness. So then, we should be awake and sober. It is at night when people sleep; it is at night when they get drunk. But we belong to the day, and we should be sober. We must wear faith and love as a breastplate, choose us to suffer his anger, but to possess salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us in order that we might live together with him, whether courage one another and help one another, just as you are now doing.

—Selected by Consuello Battin: Sister

*   *   *   *   *

The photograph below (c.1982) sent to Dave Brinks by Nancy Harris includes (left to right) Yictove, Bunny Matthews and Everette Maddox (the Bunny Matthews television show)

Dave Brinks, Megan Burns, Lee Meitzen Grue, Nancy Harris, James Nolan, Brenda Marie Osbey, Valentine Pierce, John Travis (Portals Press), Jerry W. Ward, Jr. and many other friends, family, artists & poets will be coordinating a program A Celebration of Yictove's Life & Work in New Orleans with 17 Poets! Literary & Performance Series at the Gold Mine Saloon, TBA

*   *   *   *   *

Here is a note from my friend Judith in N.Y.  She went with us to hear us read. Yictove read and met us at Steve Cannon's place.—Lee: I just learned of Yictove's death. I'm so sorry. I know he was a good friend of yours and a gentle man. I believe it was July 2005, he met you (us). We went for Chinese food, and than to Ave D (I didn't even know there was an Ave D ) to that awful walk up place to hear poetry, on one of the hottest days ever.—Judy

*   *   *

THE POET, YICTOVE  

The poet, Yictove, I’ve known for a couple decades since he showed up mysteriously, I thought, in the 80s and entered into the round of poet workings around the city. He appeared one night when Amina & I were still doing Kimako’s Blues People in our basement.

Yictove was a singular unique voice. His work brief , incisive, carrying a deep vibe of truth sought, life meanings struggled for, negotiated, his work he tells us, is a blue print  from—“my hands having been/placed upon your/walls, /my fingerprints/upon your glass/ I simply leave this/mark of blue/blue-print.”

 

A pleasant companion//with rhythm and a voice/and I depart

From the one book of his I have, a Blue Print, of a life seemingly quickly lived but deeply felt. Yictove became a coordinator of readings at the Knitting Factory and at the East Orange Public Library.

Soft spoken, introverted it would seem, appearing, disappearing, yet leaving his trace, singular, but like all of us, leaving traces, prints of our blues our blues lives. Now the brother follows the 9th Ward of his native Big Easy, deeply appreciated but now part of the legend of what we took for granted some of the things that made us happy, now gone gone gone.—Amiri Baraka 8/1/07

*   *   *   *   *

I met Yictove over the Internet several months ago.  Yictove seemed to be persistent in our friendship, one which I never knew would have such an impact on my life personally nor as an oil painter and sometimes author of poetic sayings.  We talked every day after the universe brought us together and developed a high degree of mutual respect for one another's creative works.  After viewing one of his photos I decided to do an oil painting of him...and guess what, it was completed July 29, 2007. 

In fact that painting will be on display Sept - Oct at Canyons Gallery in Sedona, AZ.  I'm pretty good at listening to the whispers of the Universe but at that time I had no idea that ultimately when I was painting Yictove, that his . . . Yictove's legacy was to be recorded and recognized on canvas for a specific reason. When I told Yictove I was painting him he was very excited.  I told him...Yictove, if I must say so myself...Ya' look Delicious... which caused him to laugh...while I personally was having no trouble visualizing the broad smile on his face.

The Painting: "My Friend Yictove”

The Spirit is all knowing and creates tiny miracles continuously without our knowing how miraculous his directives often are. I'm so glad I was obedient in rendering Yictove's painting . . . he . . . as most of you know, would never have asked that this painting be done.  In that I'm a retiree, I've asked for help so that I can have a Giclee print done, and also for the crating and shipping cost of this painting, in order to donate it to the N.J. library where Yictove did his workshops...I'm not concerned...I know it's meant to be and it will happen.  Yictove admittedly loved his workshops and I believe my assignment in meeting Yictove was to record his image so that those who walk through the doors of this library will forever feel the vibes of his gentle and poetic Spirit.  

Those who have viewed his 24x32 canvassed painting (this still wet painting)...say they so clearly can see Yictove's gentle and compassionate soul, even though his image appears to be gigantic on canvas.  I believe I've captured enough of him from his picture so that those who knew him will quickly recognize his image.  I AM so pleased that the painting portrays befittingly, the giant soul that Yictove managed to carry so gracefully in his physical life.  In fact, I often joked with Yictove when I started the painting...and told him that although we had never personally met...I was blown by how his Spirit kept jump'n onto my canvas through my paint brushes with seemingly so little effort.

Last week Yictove kept asking me to pick up a package he had sent...the package contained some of his personal literary works he had kept in his private library.  He was persistent that I pick these up from the P.O. asap.  I finally picked them up 7/28/07.  I do believe he was an intuitive...who was hearing his own whispers.  He knew, I believe, that I would know what his wishes would be for the materials he sent after his transition.

I will make sure that what he sent is enshrined/housed and donated to one of the University Libraries in some way or form...I'm a retiree from the University of Michigan...and have already made contact with Chuck Ranson, the Diversity Librarian in Multicultural Studies.  I know he will do what he can.

One of Yictove's blessings to me was in introducing me to your wonderful site...I'm living a rather reclusive lifestyle as an artist right now in the middle of a desert . . . as I perfect some of the artistry I'm still working on.  As a former Detroiter I welcome and relish in the voices you present on your site.

I will forward an image of the painting directly to you asap . . . eventually it will be on my website, but you will receive it first.

Many blessings . . .Bev Jenai .bevjenaiart.com  Kfsoul.com 

NYC on Saturday - A "Love-fest" in celebration of the memory of Yictove will  take place on Saturday, August 4, 2007, 3 p.m. sharp, at the Times Square Art Center, 300 W. 43rd Street, 5th floor (near Port Authority, off 8th Ave. and 43rd St.)

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AALBC.com's 25 Best Selling Books


 

Fiction

#1 - Justify My Thug by Wahida Clark
#2 - Flyy Girl by Omar Tyree
#3 - Head Bangers: An APF Sexcapade by Zane
#4 - Life Is Short But Wide by J. California Cooper
#5 - Stackin' Paper 2 Genesis' Payback by Joy King
#6 - Thug Lovin' (Thug 4) by Wahida Clark
#7 - When I Get Where I'm Going by Cheryl Robinson
#8 - Casting the First Stone by Kimberla Lawson Roby
#9 - The Sex Chronicles: Shattering the Myth by Zane

#10 - Covenant: A Thriller  by Brandon Massey

#11 - Diary Of A Street Diva  by Ashley and JaQuavis

#12 - Don't Ever Tell  by Brandon Massey

#13 - For colored girls who have considered suicide  by Ntozake Shange

#14 - For the Love of Money : A Novel by Omar Tyree

#15 - Homemade Loves  by J. California Cooper

#16 - The Future Has a Past: Stories by J. California Cooper

#17 - Player Haters by Carl Weber

#18 - Purple Panties: An Eroticanoir.com Anthology by Sidney Molare

#19 - Stackin' Paper by Joy King

#20 - Children of the Street: An Inspector Darko Dawson Mystery by Kwei Quartey

#21 - The Upper Room by Mary Monroe

#22 – Thug Matrimony  by Wahida Clark

#23 - Thugs And The Women Who Love Them by Wahida Clark

#24 - Married Men by Carl Weber

#25 - I Dreamt I Was in Heaven - The Rampage of the Rufus Buck Gang by Leonce Gaiter

Non-fiction

#1 - Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention by Manning Marable
#2 - Confessions of a Video Vixen by Karrine Steffans
#3 - Dear G-Spot: Straight Talk About Sex and Love by Zane
#4 - Letters to a Young Brother: MANifest Your Destiny by Hill Harper
#5 - Peace from Broken Pieces: How to Get Through What You're Going Through by Iyanla Vanzant
#6 - Selected Writings and Speeches of Marcus Garvey by Marcus Garvey
#7 - The Ebony Cookbook: A Date with a Dish by Freda DeKnight
#8 - The Isis Papers: The Keys to the Colors by Frances Cress Welsing
#9 - The Mis-Education of the Negro by Carter Godwin Woodson

#10 - John Henrik Clarke and the Power of Africana History  by Ahati N. N. Toure

#11 - Fail Up: 20 Lessons on Building Success from Failure by Tavis Smiley

#12 -The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander

#13 - The Black Male Handbook: A Blueprint for Life by Kevin Powell

#14 - The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates by Wes Moore

#15 - Why Men Fear Marriage: The Surprising Truth Behind Why So Many Men Can't Commit  by RM Johnson

#16 - Black Titan: A.G. Gaston and the Making of a Black American Millionaire by Carol Jenkins

#17 - Brainwashed: Challenging the Myth of Black Inferiority by Tom Burrell

#18 - A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose by Eckhart Tolle

#19 - John Oliver Killens: A Life of Black Literary Activism by Keith Gilyard

#20 - Alain L. Locke: The Biography of a Philosopher by Leonard Harris

#21 - Age Ain't Nothing but a Number: Black Women Explore Midlife by Carleen Brice

#22 - 2012 Guide to Literary Agents by Chuck Sambuchino
#23 - Chicken Soup for the Prisoner's Soul by Tom Lagana
#24 - 101 Things Every Boy/Young Man of Color Should Know by LaMarr Darnell Shields

#25 - Beyond the Black Lady: Sexuality and the New African American Middle Class  by Lisa B. Thompson

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The New Jim Crow

Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness

By Michele Alexander

Contrary to the rosy picture of race embodied in Barack Obama's political success and Oprah Winfrey's financial success, legal scholar Alexander argues vigorously and persuasively that [w]e have not ended racial caste in America; we have merely redesigned it. Jim Crow and legal racial segregation has been replaced by mass incarceration as a system of social control (More African Americans are under correctional control today... than were enslaved in 1850). Alexander reviews American racial history from the colonies to the Clinton administration, delineating its transformation into the war on drugs. She offers an acute analysis of the effect of this mass incarceration upon former inmates who will be discriminated against, legally, for the rest of their lives, denied employment, housing, education, and public benefits. Most provocatively, she reveals how both the move toward colorblindness and affirmative action may blur our vision of injustice: most Americans know and don't know the truth about mass incarceration—but her carefully researched, deeply engaging, and thoroughly readable book should change that.—Publishers Weekly

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1493: Uncovering the New World Columbus Created

By Charles C. Mann

I’m a big fan of Charles Mann’s previous book 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus, in which he provides a sweeping and provocative examination of North and South America prior to the arrival of Christopher Columbus. It’s exhaustively researched but so wonderfully written that it’s anything but exhausting to read. With his follow-up, 1493, Mann has taken it to a new, truly global level. Building on the groundbreaking work of Alfred Crosby (author of The Columbian Exchange and, I’m proud to say, a fellow Nantucketer), Mann has written nothing less than the story of our world: how a planet of what were once several autonomous continents is quickly becoming a single, “globalized” entity.

Mann not only talked to countless scientists and researchers; he visited the places he writes about, and as a consequence, the book has a marvelously wide-ranging yet personal feel as we follow Mann from one far-flung corner of the world to the next. And always, the prose is masterful. In telling the improbable story of how Spanish and Chinese cultures collided in the Philippines in the sixteenth century, he takes us to the island of Mindoro whose “southern coast consists of a number of small bays, one next to another like tooth marks in an apple.” We learn how the spread of malaria, the potato, tobacco, guano, rubber plants, and sugar cane have disrupted and convulsed the planet and will continue to do so until we are finally living on one integrated or at least close-to-integrated Earth. Whether or not the human instigators of all this remarkable change will survive the process they helped to initiate more than five hundred years ago remains, Mann suggests in this monumental and revelatory book, an open question.

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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)

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Ancient African Nations

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Negro Digest / Black World

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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 / George Jackson  / Hurricane Carter

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The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg

The Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804  / January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of Haiti 

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update 3 February 2012

 

 

 

Home  Yictove Table

Related file: In Future (an elegy for Yictove)  Before Becoming Historical