The Journey by Edward Kamau Brathwaite
1
E-
gypt
In Af-
rica
Mesopo-
tamia
Mero-
e
The
Nile
Silica
glass
and brittle
Sa-
hara, Tim-
Buctu, Gao
the hills of
Ahafo, winds
Of the Ni-
ger, Kurmasi
and Kiver
down the
Coiled congo
and down
that black river
that tides us to hell
HELL
In the water
Brown
Boys of Bushongo
drowned in the
Blue and the bitter
Salt of wave- gullied
Ferdinand’s sea
Soft winds
to san Salvador, Christoph
er, Christ, and no Noah
Or dove to promise us, grim
through it was, the simple sal
vation of love. And so it was a Little
Rock, Dall-
as New Orleans, Santiago
De cuba,the miles
of unfortunate island: the
Saints and the virgins, L’Ouverture’s Haiti
ruined by greed and the slow
Growing green of its freedom; golden Guiana:
Potaro
leaping in light liquid amber
in Makonaima’s perpetual falls. And as if
the exhaustion of this wasn’t all- Egypt
Meroe ,the Congo and all-
in the fall we reached De-
troit, Chicago and Den-
er; and then it was New
York, selling news-
paper in Brooklyn and Harlem
Then Capetown and Rio; remember how we
took Paris by storm: Sartre, Camus, Picasso and all?
But were are the dreams
Of that bug happy, trash-
holstered tropical bed
When Uncle Tom lived
and we curse him? This
the new deal for we black
grinning Jacks? Lights
big like bubbies but we
still in shacks?
2
Tall, with slow
Dignity
( So
goes the saying
So
Went the dream)
the nergro
Steps his way among the follies,
With well – cut wood- cut head
with subtle tie
and fashionably
Faun exterieur,
he needs no clowining
to assert him self : no boot
black smile, no warm humility
No hanging
One hand from his srength. Playing
the black babboon.
He plays his own
game here and plays it
hard: and whether
gentleman or gigolo or
both, he holds himself
aloof from minor glitters
and does not wink
At mouching, long haired, well
upholstered fillies, soft in public sweaters,
or turn distracted
head to watch the carefully
arranged and ready nylon
ladies’ legs along
the boulevard. His glance
is only for la femme
exceprionnelle: the leading-
lady with no dissonance
In veiw: the rich- lipped generous
ewe returning reconnoitre’d
stare for candid coup
d’ oeil: the ariadne clue
that tries to trick him ,trap him,
track him down and lead him
to himself, the minotaur
There
Be abides: him self coursing his own
man-
ocurvres: jives calmly ,merely nods
His head and keep
his potent subterranean power
For this his victim lover,
who through the artful
glance
The sacrificial
dance,
Delivers him his chance.
Meanwhile he keeps
himself, asking no favours
and expecting
None: taking
his chance
among the dead-
ly follies with this
nonchalance
of shoulder and this
urbane head
3
So went the black
hatted zoot-
suited watch-
chained dreams of the panama boys
and the hoods
from Chicago
Yeah man!
The real ne-
gro, man, real
cool.
Broad back
Big you know what
black spews negritude
Yeah the man
so went the
mud hut, hole-
hatted glorious
dreams. Harlem
was heaven
And Paris a place
for all.
Yeah man!
and the old man gone
old Uncle Tom gone
Rain making souse
of his balls in the soil.
But he’s real cool,
man, while we sweat
in this tin trunk’d house
that we rent from the rat
To share with the mouse:
Castries’ Conway and Brixton in London,
Port of spain’ s jungle
and Kingston dry Dungle
Chicago Smethwick and Tiger Bay
4
Never seen
a man
travel more
seen more
lands
than this poor
path-
less harbour:
Less spade.
