Morphological Confetti

In November, I will visit the country of Uruguay in South America. This is not a planned trip or vacation; I was invited as part of an effort to introduce students in Uruguay to African American culture. Specifically, I will teach students about the African influence in American culture as it pertains to music. This comes easy to me because it stays near the front of my thoughts; however, my challenge is that most of the students speak limited English. I’m attempting to brush up on my Spanish in an effort to communicate as effectively as possible. Otherwise, I will depend on the universal power of music, and the supreme power of God, who will lead and guide me on this venture. You may giggle, but I took my time to inform the Morphological Confetti community because I wanted to make sure I had my plane ticket. This entire trip is funded by the arts council, but I had to be perfectly certain that my ticket was in hand. I truly give thanks to God for this opportunity, but I would ...

“…If I were asked for a definition of myself, I would say that I am one who waits; I investigate my surroundings, I interpret everything in terms of what I discover, I become sensitive.” Frantz Fanon, “The Fact Of Blackness” Black Skin, White Masks (1952, trans. 1967) I first heard of Frantz Fanon during my sophomore year at Savannah State College in 1990. I was an English major taking Shakespeare and Dr. Russell Chambers was my professor. We were having a class discussion about the Bard’s play,  The Tempest . Dr. Chambers began to discuss the characters,  Prospero  and  Caliban , in relation to what Fanon stated about the slave system in the Americas. Fanon said that the white man that supported this system had the “Prospero Complex.” In other words, “What the colonial in common with Prospero lack, is awareness of the world of Others, a world in which Others have to be respected.” Chambers stated emphatically that the black man is the “Caliban” of the world...

A Black Man Talks of Reaping by Arna Bontemps 1902–1973   I have sown beside all waters in my day. I planted deep, within my heart the fear that wind or fowl would take the grain away. I planted safe against this stark, lean year. I scattered seed enough to plant the land in rows from Canada to Mexico but for my reaping only what the hand can hold at once is all that I can show. Yet what I sowed and what the orchard yields my brother's sons are gathering stalk and root; small wonder then my children glean in fields they have not sown, and feed on bitter fruit. Dedicated to my cousin G. Bess; He shares a birthday with Mr. Bontemps on today, October 13th, and he has sown many good things in the time I have known him.  I'm certain there was more before we became close; nevertheless, I pray that he reaps a generous harvest.  I'm sure that he will only take that generous harvest and sow even more.  This is...