Good evening, friends. A pleasure, a special honor to be here with you tonight. I’ll take home with me the tenderness I got from you.
The affection. . .
It’s a night for me. . .
A whole day of celebration. Of encounters. .
. The sacred ritual of encounters. Much honored, I was invited here by Julio, by dear Haroldo.
I was deeply moved sitting there listening to Haroldo saying those things about our land. It is so beautiful to see that there is hope. We need to fill the heart of our boys, our young people with that hope.
I was invited to recite this text. It is a mediumistic text received by a medium from Instituto Meimei. I’ve put my glasses on because my eyes won’t obey me at all.
It’s the story of black man Zé. "I been here jus’ a-watchin’ y’all talkin’ so smart wit them thick books in yo’ hands. not to be made a fool by folks wit bad intentions.
I lived in this world an’ I seen many folks hide behind the mask of fancy wordin’, maskin’ them bad intentions, makin’ folks suffer. But to y’all I wanna tell the story that’s not in writin’, it’s carved in the memory of Abá Cuntá. I was a sly li’l boy in them lands far from the sea, in the Yoruba tribe, a warrior tribe.
I was a brave li’l boy, I ran thru the thick woods, I was afeared of nuttin’, not of the dark, not of serpents. But one day I knowed fear. One early mornin’ I went a-huntin’ wit the family and I wanted to see the sea.
I left my chores to go swimmin’, like I done ev’ry day. Lost in distraction, I felt a net around me. I began to yell an’ struggle, my heart comin’ out of my mouth.
I saw two men wit an evil face speakin’ fancy language while the net was dragged, and I caught in it, like an animal. I recalled the warnin’ of the elders, not to walk alone along the trails, always walk wit the family or wit some friends. “Abá, be quiet, by Olorun and Obatala!
” One day my mammy yelled: “Fall in the white man net, you ne’er come back no mo’. ” In an awful fright, I went on a-strugglin’, tryin’ to set me free. I yelled them names I recall’d for to see if somebody listen’d an’ would come help me.
But only one answer Abá got. One of them men hit me and I saw nuttin’ no mo’. I jus’ woke up in a diff’rent place filled wit folks, all of them captive there.
It was folks from rival tribes. . .
But stuck in them chains we was all equal there. We was animal, not folks. And funny thang I’ll tell ya.
Them that was enemies before now embraced each other. Pain brought together them brothers in fate. Ev’ryone there afeared of death, ev’ryone there wanted to live.
We was all piled up, crammed up in a boat settin’ out to the unknown. And even wit the white men treatin’ us so violently, not a moan was heard. Worse than the bold whip was the oppressed chest while the boat was in motion.
Folks the white man caught, if they didn’t die on the beach, they fell on the road, ne’er came back no mo’! I kept starin’ at my land, the land of my affection disappearin’ in the distance, makin’ me think. .
. There I left my joy, my freedom and my family I paid no heed to. During the first day I thought of Yemaya, goddess of the sea.
. . I waited for her to rise up and help her abused children.
But we warn’t helped by no god of our belief In that goddam boat it was all death and disease, or the mean ol’ whip lashin’ against our bare backs, or hunger killin’, or the blacks throwin’ themselves in the arms of the friendly sea, looking for an end for that sufferin’, reckonin’ it was better to die than be made a slave. . .
Food was scarce an’ measured an’ only to them with no wounds, or fever or prostration. Them sick ones was chained up and thrown into the sea with no compassion. I don’ even know how long it took, but one day the boat arrived where it had to.
. . An’ we all went out in fright.
An’ we was looked over by them that wanted to buy us. I was only a boy, but I was there in chains, like an animal. And some men came and looked at me.
Once in a while they spoke that fancy language, I couldn’t understand nuttin’, but I wanted to tell’em that Abá Cuntá was folks too. I wanted to go back home. Then they beat me to make my sufferin’ worse.
And I stayed there in the open air after that agony, in that journey without end, hungry, thirsty and tired, a-waitin’ to be bought to know my whereabouts. Finally I was bought by an evil-looking man that took me to a horse, but didn’t make me ride, made me walk. He dragged me by the rope tied to my hands, chained to other hands of other folks like me, who didn’t die in the journey.
We went in a bundle, all quiet, and if we fell along the way, he gave a strong pull and yelled them fancy words, lookin’ like a mean beast, no mercy, no compassion. Our bare feet on the ground was hurtin’ and bleedin’. .
. But the man kept pullin’, like he cared for nuttin’. Many hours we walked, over our heads the hot sun burnin’ on the road.
We walked very far an’ got to a mount wit a strange construction on top. They took us to that where we was gonna stay. It was our prison.
It was so many blacks in there that today I wonder at such an abomination: what was them white people thinkin’ to do them crazy stuff, jus’ on account of the dark skin? We was not them brothers? For many days I jus’ stayed quiet.
I was awful sad, filled wit longin’ an’ pain. But the black women came nearin’ and li’l by li’l I got used to that life of horror. We didn’t always make out what the other blacks said ’cause many who was there came from different places.
Other tribes, other folks. But li’l by li’l we learned the fancy language of the white men and the language of them other blacks too, for to make out the orders and escape the beatin’ of the slave-driver whip, the constant whiplash. We worked by day and slept by night in them slave quarters, all piled up on the ground.
But there was also the poor blacks, for punishment or cruelty, chained by hands and feet ’till daylight come back again. They called me José, I was Abá no mo’. I saw time go by.
. . I warn’t a li’l boy no mo’.
Now I was a strong man, but in a weak, sulky way. I didn’t wanna be beaten, I was afeared to die. The racy li’l boy in the woods was tame as cattle now.
I obeyed in silence. I worked in the plantation, stayed away from them fights the brothers started sometimes and I jus’ watched the slave-driver whip the backs of them reckless ones who got into trouble. ’Cause I was tame and quiet and didn’t like fightin’, one day I was appointed to wait on the young master of them lands.
Seemed like a good thang. I was gonna eat a li’l better, dress a li’l better, stay in the big house, work not too heavy. .
. I was even excited, thought lady luck was smilin’ at poor Zé. I didn’t know there was a kind of evil to make us miss the slave-driver whip.
Oh, no! There be worse punishment, beatin’ ev’ry hour that don’t hurt yo’ back, but cause mo’ pain, the pain of humiliation, that don’t scar the flesh on the outside, but scar the heart. The young master in question didn’t see in black man Zé more than jus’ fun.
Many a-time in the big house, in the luxury of them rooms, I missed the slave quarters wit my brothers. But I don’t wanna be long. I been thru too much rudeness, I knowed too much sadness, I been treated too bad.
But all in this world come to an end an’ that is what I wanna tell. Oh, you folks wit books, y’all need to know that in this life on Earth it’s worth to suffer ev’rything without takin’ revenge. One day the young master got married an’ it even seem punishment what happened then.
The wife died givin’ birth to the first child and that man went crazy. The li’l kid was born sick an’ rejected ev’ry black woman his pappy brought to take care of’im. Ev’ry time one of’em touched’im, the whole house could hear the li’l kid yelling an’ the despair of the father, who feared losin’ him heir an’ yelled 'round the property, makin’ ev’rybody run to find somethin’ for the child not to die.
One day I got to watchin’ an’ came close to take a good look at the boy cryin’ in the cradle alone. I took’im in my arms, looked’im in them li’l eyes an’ rocked that small li’l body in my lap. An’ ain’t it a fact he calmed down?
I reckon he even liked it. Then the pappy gave me some rest. ’ cause I had to look after’im, make’im sleep an’ feed’im – the black man white boy.
The boy grew up on my lap, hearin’ my made-up stories, hearin’ my singin’, followin’ me ev’rywhere. He didn’t resemble his pappy in cruelty or meanness. My boy had kindness in them sea-blue eyes, but he was way too weak.
The mo’ the black man did, the mo’ he ate, he seemed to fade like a candle that go out with only a windblow. Since I come from my land on the angry waves of the sea to step on these here lands, my eyes had dried. I had never cried, not in the sadness I been thru, not in the humiliation I suffered, not no time I was beaten, I didn’t shed one tear.
But when I saw my white angel go down that hole on the ground. . .
Ah, y’all cannot imagine the pain I felt, thru my eyes I cried the sea! I’ll tell ya the truth, I was very, very sorry for the pappy of my li’l boy. I ne’er saw so much despair.
He was no man. He was the devil. He seem’d bewitched, his eyes wide open, lost, without reason.
Couldn’t stand the sufferin’ to see his only child buried on that ground. Him that made so many mothers cry, separatin’ them from they kids other white men came to buy. Ne’er had no compassion for them desperate mothers who dragged themselves to him feet in supreme humiliation.
It was a dark night I’ll ne’er forget no mo’. After the li’l boy funeral the slave quarters suffered, ’cause the whip lashed the back of ev’ry black man there, including me. An’ he beat wit such violence in that night of sadness that the rude whip delivered from sufferin’ a couple of brothers.
Wit me it was my arm. I reckon the flesh got offended. As days went by an’ it didn’t get better, they thought it best to cut it off.
But this black man survived. I don’ know if it was regret for what he done, but the young master ne’er beat us again. The days an’ years went by on that sad event.
The master now old couldn’t walk no mo’, no one to look after’im, all alone in the world an’ kinda crazy. Wealth gone, slaves run away, and I wanted to run away too, but how sorry I felt for that beat-up man in that beat-up place. I ended up stayin’ there.
I was also old an’ lonely. After all, that master was the pappy of my white angel who filled my sad days wit joy. I forgot the rudeness he treated me wit.
I saw death come softly in the cries of agony of that poor ol’ soul. He really gone mad! Said he saw the shadow of the black men he done so wrong waiting for him to be distracted to take revenge.
My master eyes was closed after much delirium. An’ I began to think where I should run to. But I was kinda crippled, I reckoned I’d stick around.
’Til death took pity on me. One day I slept an’ woke up different. Stronger, well-disposed.
. . I was not crippled no mo’, my arm was in place.
I stood up, began to walk. ’Till I was called. But not like I was treated, I was called "Abá"!
I turned ’round findin’ it strange ’cause it was a well-known voice. Oh, my children, how nice! I must a-been dreamin’.
Right there callin’ me was my li’l pink-faced angel! I was kinda shaken, not knowin’ what to say. Then my li’l boy came an’ soon nestled in the black man arms.
I started to cry. How’s it possible, young master? If wit my own eyes I saw the boy go down on the ground.
. . An’ my good li’l boy gave me the explanation I don’ need to repeat.
Y’all already know I died. Days gone by in the new life, I met other people, but it was very different. Them was all good folks an’ treated us like we was folks too.
My angel helped me an’ one day I could understand the reason for the sufferin’ in my life that was over. It’s not my place to say it here but I was mean once too. I made many folks suffer 'round me.
But divine compassion let me struggle to set myself free of my own evil. An’ to end them verses I wanna tell y’all that after I met Jesus an’ knowed all He gone thru jus’ to set free him brothers sinners, I is a slave by choice now of this new master. An’ He is taught me that the strongest force in this world is bigger than the chains of steel that one day tied our arms there in slave times.
And if we learn to love we’ll be free from much worse chains than them iron ones. We’ll be free from the chains of illusion. An’ him that’s free from them chains want to get back already in order to save him brother stuck in that torment chained to sufferin' in the fields of the heart.
E'er since I understood this, I been a-struggling for to one day see free of them chains of illusion him that was my master, as Jesus taught me, now is my brother. I been a-waitin' in anguish, to press against my longin' chest the heart of the master who's a-fightin' in the world, today rebuildin' him own steps, an' if he does everythin' by the book, like them laws of love tell ya, soon he'll come an' rest on this Abá’s old chest! My name is Abá!
" Thank you!
