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Restimulating slavery patterns


Chapter 12

 

 

  

(Continued from previous page:) As voters we are capable of inflicting endless pain on others when we never have to see the napalmed faces and maimed bodies our high-tech decisions generate.

  

  

In my search for an answer to why we constantly look for an enemy in our fellow human beings and thus are capable of committing violence against it, I am struck by the work conditions which stunt us in body and mind.

  

 

  

Not least in the American south where we passively condone an almost total absence of labor unions which could protect workers. Rough work there is still usually done by blacks with white men giving orders.

  

  

Many blacks have been killed in these sawmills and even more feet and fingers have been cut off as on these workers.

  

  

They got no compensation and one of them had to be back at his job two days later in order not to loose it, for as he was told, "there are a lot of hungry niggers outside waiting to get work."

  

  

Under such conditions the time-clock becomes in the worker's consciousness just like the crack of the slave masters whip - a symbol of the persistent violence of our system:

  

  

Traveling in the world of black Americans inevitably becomes a journey into the soul and the history of every person you meet.

  

  

In such a journey you begin to understand the traits and tendencies which were impressed on the souls and entire consciousness of black people by slavery and how ever since the system has perpetuated and even intensified these traits.

  

  

Please listen to me carefully
and if I'm wrong then correct me.

  

  

But if I'm right my song do praise,
now let's see if we agree:

  

  

The definition of a slave means one not free entirely
so a slave is still a slave if he can't think independently.

  

  

Poor slave, take the shackles off your body,
poor slave, put the shackles on your mind.

  

  

A tree is still a tree, though it
sheds its leaves when winter comes.

  

 

But it blooms again in spring
for it did not lose its roots at all.

  

 

But a slave remains a slave
without the knowledge of his roots
until he's taught the past
not just some, but all the truth.

  

 

Poor slave, take the shackles off your body,
poor slave, put the shackles on your mind.

  

 

There was a brother the other day
telling me he's feeling high

  

 

but I just sadly had to sigh
for drugs and booze ain't glory,

  

 

and if I had the chance to get high
I would tell the truth and not a lie,

  

 

for the highest high a man can get,
is from wisdom, knowledge and understanding.

  

 

Poor slave, ease the pressure off your body,
poor slave, put it on your mind...

 

 

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