by Gayl Jones
What does Sojourner Truth have to do with Buddhism? You probably instinctively know more about Sojourner Truth. But what does she have to do with Buddhism?
I scratches inside my ear. We’s on a little border road. Red ferns that look like red sticks. I think there’s some of that wildflower they calls a wine cup, I think. It’s got wine-colored, cup-shaped flowers. You see it everywhere in Texas. The prairies, the woodlands, all along the road. Delgadina knows the name of that wildflower. She say that that wildflower can grow and thrive anywhere. I guess that why it a wildflower. Naw, with mystics and prophets, I mean. She say she like to read about African-American history ’cause it help her to understand her own history, both being colonized people and shit. I mean, Delgadina. So she be telling me that if Sojourner Truth weren’t a slave and a African woman and shit they probably be calling her a mystic if not a prophet on account of them different religious and mystical experiences she be having. Maybe she even be Saint Sojourner.
My aunt Electra, some people say, is a mystic and prophet.
I don’t understand that mysticism myself and that enlightenment, though Delgadina be enlightening me all the time. She be telling me I ain’t no ignorant woman, I just don’t know a lot, which to me sound the same as ignorant.
The Harley turn off the highway onto one of them narrow dirt roads leading to a farm. It ain’t none of them farms that I been taking them refugees to, though.
You’re not an ignorant woman. You don’t look like an ignorant woman. You look too cunning and clever. I think you’re a trickster, a jokester.
I know what a jokester is and a trickster, too, so I’ll accept that as a compliment, though I ain’t sure you can be both a jokester and a trickster. What I do know I know from trade fairs. I mean, what I knows of modern knowledge. The best trade fairs is in Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico. Or maybe I just thinks of them as the best trade fairs ’cause Delgadina told me them Comanches usedta have they trade fairs in Taos and Santa Fe. I mean, in the old days before they sent them to the reservations and they usedta do trading with different peoples. For all I knows the Native Peoples started the trade fair. I don’t know the full history of the trade fair, I just knows I likes them. They ain’t just trading silver conchos and leather boots and woven grass mats, though, but all kindsa modern electronics. And they’s all kindsa people at them trade fairs. Delgadina, though, she a wild woman. And a signifying wild woman. You know what signifying mean, don’t you? . . . Well, you instinctively know what it mean. But that Delgadina she a wild woman. I like me them wild women. I ain’t half so wild as I seem to some. I don’t mean wild in the bad way I mean wild in the good way, ’cause wild that ain’t the same as mad bad and dangerous to know. She got one of them peacock skirts. You ever seen them peacock skirts, yeah you have ’cause one of your Sanctuary workers got one of them peacock skirts, ’cept it’s the male birds got all the beautiful plumage, you know, like them sunbirds and them peacocks and them lyrebirds. This musician woman I know she told me about them sunbirds and Delgadina she told me about them lyrebirds. I been thinking about getting me a peacock skirt, but I look like a fool in a peacock skirt. Well, maybe I wouldn’t look like no fool in a peacock skirt, but I probably feel like a fool in one of them peacock skirts. The female peacock—
There’s no such thing as a female peacock.
Say what?
The female is called a peahen.
Oh, yeah? Well, how come them women wear them peacock skirts then? I guess ’cause it the prettier bird. What we talking about? Oh, yeah, you being on the wrong side and shit. . . . But I guess a padre’s a padre. Even if you a Buddhabist. ’Cause all them religions got they padres, though they don’t call them padres.
. . . Even when I was on the wrong side I always admired some of the people, you know. Sorta people who act on what they believe.
Long as what they believe is right, I says. And long as you believe what they believe is right, ’cause I guess a lot of them immigration agents acting on what they believe. But then they got what you call the state behind them. The state be saying, I got your back, so it pretty easy for them to act on what they believe, I mean, when they believe the same thing the state believe. I been thinking about what you call the state. But all them type people they always call them the right. Except nowadays it hard to tell who on the right. Like them bikers type, a lot of them on the right, when in the old days people like them bikers be on the left, you know. I guess you can’t have no nose ring and be on the right, though, or maybe you can. How come folks like y’all ain’t called the right? Why we let them appropriate the name of the right for theyselves when maybe the people on the left is the peoples who’s right? I looks at him askance.
What? he asks.
Maybe I wouldn’t trust you myself if I didn’t think you was a priest and all, and I ain’t Catholic, no true and orthodox Catholic anyhow. I got this girlfriend in California that joined this group call themselves the Daughters of Nzingha. She the one wrote me them letters you seen in my glove compartment. She supposed to be a African queen, you know. I don’t mean my girlfriend from California, I mean that Nzingha. Got themselves a African-American woman for a priestess too. I be telling her that it sound like some kinda cult to me. She be saying they call theyselves the Daughters of Nefertiti, then they changed it to Daughters of Sheba, now it be Daughters of Nzingha. She want me to join, but I be telling her I don’t join none of them cult. She be telling me they priestess look something like me. I been a Jehovah Witness and a Methodist Episcopal, though. But to tell you the truth, even in the beginning, you didn’t look like nobody priest to me, no true and orthodox priest. And you don’t look like no true and orthodox immigration agent either, to tell the truth.
Oh, yeah? What do I look like? he ask.
I don’t tell him. I just pull off the highway. Some of that wild mustard.
So why’d you stop? he ask.
Cause I can’t kiss and drive at the same time.
CHAPTER 11
I KNOW Y’ALL THINKS I’M CRAZY, BUT ALL THE time we’s making love, Ray and me, I can still hear them peoples talking ’bout them refugees and other peoples. We’s making love and I’m hearing conversations. Which don’t mean we ain’t making good love, but them womens is still having they conversation. I’m thinking if whether one of them patrols is going to come, saying Ray darling and still hearing them people’s talking about the new Underground Railroad, thought they ain’t exactly just talking about the new Underground Railroad. I’m trying to think more about me and Ray, and us loving, but I’m still that jazz musician and them womens is still saying they same song. I says Ray darling and listens to them at the same time.
. . . I’ve got a couple of martial arts teachers. One’s Chinese, the other looks like that giant in Norse mythology. What’s the name of that giant? The one that guards the well of wisdom. . . . The Grand Panjandrum thinks we oughta buy ourselves an island and turn it into an independent country where refugees from all over the world can come. . . . Middle-age radicals. . . . But the point is it’s America they want to come to. But at least it’s better than detention camps, you know.
. . . No fascists, dictators, or imperialists allowed.
. . . We need somebody who speaks Quechua.
. . . He’ll probably try to free her. She’s his old girlfriend, ain’t she? The guerrilla woman. Somebody said she was or maybe they’re mistaking her for another one. Like all Latinas look alike, you know. Who, the one playing chess? Name’s Ray Mendoza. Not our Ray. I know that ain’t Father Raymond. I think he’s from Chiapas, though. She usedta be his girlfriend too. Spying on him for one of her generals. Or maybe she was spying on the generals for them?
Who’s his old girlfriend? I’m asking, ’cause we’s making love, like I’m saying, and I’m listening for them patrollers and I ain’t want them to be talking about his old girlfriend.
You ever been to Mexico? I ask Ray.
You know I have, he says.
You know,
Ray, I ain’t never been across the border to Mexico. Well, once I was in Mexico and didn’t know I was in Mexico. Seem like Delgadina was in her Land-Rover and knew some secret route into Mexico, but I ain’t sure if we was really in Mexico. I travels along the Mexican border, but I ain’t never been into Mexico, I mean, knowing that I’m in Mexico. You know the typical American attitude toward Mexico? You know us typical American attitude toward Mexico.
He look like he more interested in kissing me again than talking about Mexico. I hear something I think might be a patrol, and I grabs toward my jeans and bra, but it ain’t no patrol. Then I hear a honk that sound like the honk of a member of my union. I still calls it my union, but I gots to tell y’all about my union.
What? asks Ray. He sits up against a detergent drum. I tells him I’m a Trojan woman, like that commercial, and then I starts talking about Mexico again.
What I’m saying is I ain’t never had that typical American attitude towards Mexico myself, even before I met Delgadina. I ain’t know why I always liked that Mexico. I ain’t never been to Mexico, like I said, but I have never had that typical attitude toward Mexico. Us family history say that some of us Johnsons originated in Mexico, that we was originally Mexican Africans, then if that is true history then maybe that’s why I’s never had the typical American attitude towards Mexicans. I know I don’t look like no Mexican, but family history say that there’s a little Mexican in me.
A Mexican can look like anybody, say Ray. Mexicans are like Americans. They are Americans. The other Americans.
I know that’s true, ’cause some of them refugees they tells me is Mexican don’t look like them Mexicans on television. I ain’t even told Delgadina about me and Mexico. Delgadina she always talking about the typical American attitude towards Mexico, and she even got them posters on her wall that was made by the Americans during the war years, you know, when they was enticing them Mexicans to come to America to join they bracero program. The Americans theyselves, they’s the ones started encouraging them Mexicans to come to America when they needed them to work the American farms and do that other work for America during the war.
Ray looking like he know all that history, like he more interested in loving than talking Mexican history. I thinks I hears another patrol and grabs toward my jeans. Another one of my union honk. They probably knows what us doing, ’cause I ain’t got my white flag up. I knows what they’s doing sometimes when they’s parked by the side of the road and ain’t got they white dag up. Another one of my union honk.
Hey, Nadine.
That’s one of my union. They’s all jokester. ’Bout Mexico, though, Delgadina showed me a book she got in her collection that were published by the American State Department that were encouraging Americans to learn Spanish and Portuguese, for Brazil, you know. It were written for Spanish-language teachers and business peoples. I told Delgadina I were interested in learning Spanish and she give me one of them books published by the State Department or one of them government type of books, you know, where they teaches the diplomats foreign languages, ’cause she say them is the best books for learning languages and even spies and military peoples learns to speak languages from them books, but anyway, like I’m saying, they couldn’t do business in Europe during them war years, so’s they had to do business in Mexico and Latin America, so during the war years them other Americas wasn’t invisible ’cause they needed them, but after the war years Mexico and Latin America become invisible again. They looks toward Mexico and Latin America when they thinks they needs them, like with the Pacific Realm and European commercialism and shit. You gots to get somebody like Delgadina to explain all that though. You would like Delgadina. Ray. Except she only likes mens who treats her like she is they intellectual equal, though.
What I’m interested in doing. Mosquito, is—
I ain’t going to record for y’all all his sweet-talk. Ain’t Delgadina said something about Americans sweet-talking the Mexicans in those days? Ray sweet-talking me, and I’m still hearing them women singing they song. Or them jokesters honking, or trying to listen for them patrols.
Hey, Nadine. Honk.
I ain’t even that sociable with them fools, but them honking like that be making Ray think I knows all them mens on a personal basis.
They belongs to my union, I explains. They’s just peoples that belongs to my same union. You know what jokesters some of these union peoples are.
. . . Yeah, we’re the ones who started the bracero program, one of the women is saying. I calls them jazz musician womens, ’cause every time I hears them, they’s continuing the same conversation.
We? ask the other one.
Well, you know what I mean. When the men were at war, bringing workers up from Mexico. I met this Mexican flier when I was in Mexico. Had their own squadron during that war. A friend of mine’s working on a movie about his squadron. You know, like that movie about African-American flyers. . . . You know, the one with Cuba Gooding, Jr.
. . . You remember when I was talking to Ray and I says, Castro’s Cuba and Amanda Wordlaw says it ain’t Castro’s Cuba, it’s Cuba’s Cuba, it the People’s Cuba. . . . She was down there trying to get an interview with Castro, though, you know when her daughter, Panda, was in that gymnastic shit, the Americas games or something. . . . She’s some kinda scientist, I mean, Panda, but she’s also a gymnast. I remember I saw an interview with Panda on one of those sports shows and ain’t nobody said nothing about her being a scientist as well as a gymnast. So I’m talking to the TV asking them to ask her about her being a scientist or mention something about her being a scientist, but they just wanted to maintain the fiction that she was just a gymnast, you know.
What kind of scientist is she?
I don’t know. She made the American gymnastic team, but she’s a scientist, that’s her profession. But whenever I see any articles about her, I mean, in the mainstream media, they just talk about her gymnastics. Like you wouldn’t even know how intelligent she is. They just want to maintain their fiction, you know. So, anyway, Amanda Wordlaw. They can maintain any fiction they want about her, ’cause she’s a nut. Anyway, she was down in Cuba trying to get an interview with Castro, and he didn’t know her from Pooka, plus she don’t write the kinda books that somebody like Castro would be familiar with anyway. . . . You imagine Castro reading some shit like Don’t Let Cowgirls Fool Ya. It’s a satire, it don’t even pretend to be the Great African-American Novel or even the Great African-Un-American Novel. And I know he don’t read them romance novels she’s writing. I think it’s called The Goodest Gal in Tulsa, or some shit. I think there’s some Cubans in it, I mean the cowgirl book, but he still wouldn’t be reading shit like that. It’s more like tabloid journalism except in a novel. Seems like I was reading somewhere in an interview where she was talking about how in her early novels she was like using the different popular forms but putting them into fiction. So you’ve got tabloid, soap opera, and the movies and shit. But most readers, if you’re using tabloid journalism as a motif, they just read tabloid journalism. This motif shit. The interview sounded more intelligent than the novels, though. Now if she were Alice Walker or somebody. . . . I mean, Castro might have given her an interview.
She got the same initials as Alice Walker. . . . I mean, Amanda Wordlaw.
Oh yeah? I met Alice Walker at graduate school. I mean, she came and gave a reading. I can’t claim I know her. I know Amanda Wordlaw, though. I can use her name. She ain’t our group.
I know another Amanda Wordlaw. Seem like there’s another Amanda Wordlaw.
I don’t know. I think she writes some of her shit under pseudonyms, but she’s the only Amanda Wordlaw that I know.
I’d heard that she was sweet. Maybe there’s a sweet one and a bitch and they’s got the same name. I met her when I was down in the Caribbean, in Nassau. My people’s from the Caribbean originally, the Wisdoms.
I know some Wisdoms in New York.
Yeah, they’s my people. We’s everywhere, though.
All over the world. In Quebec we call ourselves La Sagesse but it’s still the same Wisdoms. I guess I can mention their name, it ain’t my name. My last name ain’t Wisdom.
The men, though, in some of them books. . . .
But we’ve gotta have our books, we women have gotta have our books. ’Cause we ain’t in they’s. I mean, I likes a lot of they books, you know I loves Invisible Man, I loves a lot of our men’s books, but we ain’t in them. I mean the true us. Claude McKay’s got some of us in his books, and Ernest Gaines got some of us.
Miss Jane, he got Miss Jane. Course the mens wants to see theyselves, they wants to see they whole good selves. They wants to be Marcus Garvey or Malcolm X or Martin Delany or Noble Drew Ali. We can’t all be Noble Drew Ali.
Who he?
He’s somebody Ray’s always talking about. I think I heard Ray talking about him. I heard somebody talking about him. Somebody like Garvey, I think. Anyway, so the State Department’s telling the people another one of its lies and they’re buying it. . . . Well, I think they’re going to try to free her from that detention camp.