Son of the Soil

I remember the exact moment when I read the PudgyIndian blog because it struck deep inside my consciousness and connected me to its author, Eugene.


Yesterday I went to meet Eugene. In a real sense I had travelled many miles to find
a kind and humble man. A revolutionary with battle scars that stretch between here and everywhere.


And an old comrade who is in every sense of the
Pan-Africanist ideal, a "Son of the Soil."

We talked for about an hour over coffee in Eugene's living room. He made me proud and I felt alive inside of his committed words. There was no need for explaining. No need for specifics. Eugene saw beyond the empathy of our skin to the details of our commitment to revolutionary change. He made no meaningless gestures.

I recognized then that I have always known Eugene.

While we talked I thought about my conversations with Mooi in India and Kashmir in late 2006. I told Mooi then that an "angry man is a creative man." He protested some but he understood. He understood that the "anger" I was referencing was not the chiding label that some whites like to attach. Rather, it is the "anger" of consciousness. A militant "anger" that can't just be massaged for purposes of making whites and others less uncomfortable.

Anything less would be total subjugation. Anything more would be revenge.

This balance is what drew me to the work of Eugene. The exact moment is contained in a memory of sitting at number 11 in South Africa and reading this poem:

Discomfort
I set fire to the world with my words today.
People caught on fire.
Were some reborn as a Pheonix
from the ashes?
Were some burned into ash?

"You're making me uncomfortable."
"I don't care.
How do you think we feel"

"You're making me uncomfortable."
"I don't care.
How do you think we feel"

We are not ash,
we are humans.
Rise from the ashes
I burned you into and
be the beauty you are.

"You're making me uncomfortable."
"I don't care.
How do you think we feel"

I sat for sometime time after teading "Discomfort". It reached deep and clung to me. I knew then that I wanted to meet Eugene.


What I did not expect was to meet his partner Rhonda. A partner and equal in every sense of what I could see. They love each other and embrace a joint commitment to struggling through the layers that purposefully confound.

Rhonda also writes striking poetry that pokes and prods into the insensitivies of whiteness. These are a few lines from her poem:

"How" Do you Love your Indians

"You love us when we have long black hair
Straight down to our waists
As narrow as that of Disney's Pocahontas
You love us when we are adorned in our
Feathers and traditional dancing regalia and when
We powwow dance
Just for your cultural sensitivity training
Just for your entertainment
Just for you
You

Listen to the heartbeat drum and
Watch us as we dance in rhythm and impart to you
Ancient Indian secrets about
Serenity
Wisdom
Harmony with nature
Noble savagery ..."

Let me just say that yesterday was a day I will remember forever ... and do so in struggle. Thanks Eugene and Rhonda. Thank you for more than just having me over.

And thank you both for writing the inevitable revolution ...