by Gayl Jones
Ray has the luscious most beautiful eyebrows in the world, doesn’t he? I mean, for a priest.
I hope there ain’t any wheat in this barbecue sauce. I’m allergic to wheat.
Give you hives?
Naw, more than that. I have a toxic reaction to wheat. What’s the chemical?
I don’t have any allergies.
She’s allergic to love.
I’m not allergic to love. I love love.
The provost had a reception for me at this plantation. However, I wasn’t told it was a plantation till I was already there sipping punch and eating Cheez Whiz on toast. Then the provost asks, What do you think of our plantation? One of his ancestors was put in prison, though, for helping a fugitive slave escape. . . . I call them the new niggerati. I’m an African American, I can call them what I want. Now, if you were to call them the new niggerati. . . . Anyway, Amanda Wordlaw’s writing a book called A Natural History of Afro-Mexico, which deals with the African presence in Mexico, from the slaves who jumped slave ships to seek refuge in Mexico to others who traveled south to Mexico rather than north to Canada. . . .
Some friend of Ray’s. . . .
So anyhow that’s how they got the land from the people. They reclassified it so that it seemed like it was the least valuable land when actually it was the most valuable, the most tillable. So that’s how the colonialists originally got the land for themselves. . . . But everyone’s like that. They can only imagine freedom for themselves. Like the French and their Resistance fighter heroes, but impossible for them to imagine freedom for the Algerians during the Algerian War or to see themselves as the Occupation. . . .
Or in Indochina.
Exactly.
Everyone rationalizes their oppression to make themselves seem moral, but like this friend of mine says. Reactionaries are the same everywhere. . . . But the problem with that kind of private investment is it continues to exploit the people because it only invests in raw materials . . . and that’s what distinguishes the undeveloped world from the developed world, raw materials or manufactured goods. . . . Anyway, that’s what I mean by economic colonialism.
What are you gals gossiping about? asks Al.
We’re not gossiping. Why is it when women talk politics it’s still called gossip? And when men gossip it’s called politics?
Anyway, so this truant officer came from the Bureau of Indian Affairs school and took me to school. And we were like reading these Dick and Jane books when I’d been hearing stories of Tseitsinako, the Thought Woman. . . .
You’re not full Indian, are you? You look like a half-breed.
Ignore her, she’s a fool.
’Cept when she says that word, she glances over where I am. I’m still standing over there at that antique writing desk. When, I opens one of the books entitled Africa, one of the Nicodemuses come over to antique writing desk. He look at the Africa book first and then he look at me. He wearing dungarees and a sweatshirt, his hair tied back in a ponytail. Must be a style among a lot of them Sanctuary workers.
Hello. I’m Al—Alvarado. Do you remember me?
He extends his hand and we shake hands. Yes, I know, you’s the one had me interview that Vietnamese African-American woman. Juanita, right?
But your nickname’s Mosquito.
Yeah.
Would you like some wine, chica? It’s from Jerez. I’m from Jerez originally by way of El Salvador, by way of Guatemala, by way of Honduras. . . . Ray always has these gatherings so’s we can get to know each other. I usually don’t come to them myself. To tell you the truth, Juanita, he say, calling me the Spanish version of Jane—the first to call me any kind of Jane—the more I get to know some of these fools, the less I want to work with them for any kinda cause. I respect Ray, though.
No, thanks. I got me my Bud Light. I motion to my Bud Light on one of them coasters on the edge of the writing desk.
Now y’all know I likes Alvarado ever since he had me interview that Vietnamese African-American woman, but when anybody be talking about getting to know fools, I ain’t sure I wants to talk to them, ’cause then they be getting to know me for the fool that I am. Suppose Alvarado get to know me for the fool that I am and then ain’t want to work with me for the cause?
Anyway, so he’s got a new identity. He used to make them for draft dodgers, I mean conscientious objectors. Making new identification is not as profitable as you might think.
What’s that you’re reading?
Some book on Africa. It’s just called Africa. I’m kinda surprised that Ray got so many books on Africa.
He push my glass of Bud Light over and sit down on the edge of the writing desk. We’re all Africans. The first men and the first women. Mi abuela insists that we’re Indo-Hispanic, but trace us all back far enough we’re all Africans, and all negritos. You know in my country it has always been against the law to inquire into a man’s ancestry, or a woman’s, and in yours it is against the law not to.
What is your country?
All of Latin America. I’m Mexican, but I think of all of Latin Americas my country. I think of every Latin American as my countryman.
I wants to say “and countrywoman” like that person that scribbled “and women” on that preamble. I kinda don’t know what to say to Alvarado, ’cause I don’t want him to get to know me for the fool I am. I mean there’s them that knows me for the fool I am and still likes me, but Alvarado seem like the kinda revolutionary that don’t suffer no fools.
I heard Father Raymond call you the eternal revolutionist, uh, revolutionary. Why?
Because he is a pensador moralista and thinks I still have my revolutionary ideals.
Don’t you got your revolutionary ideals? I asks. I gots to ask that man questions even if it do reveal me for the fool I am. I sits the Africa book on the writing desk and sits on the corner of the writing desk.
Alvarado ain’t as tall as Ray, and I kinda ain’t want to tower over him whilst we’s talking. He ain’t no little man, but he ain’t as tall as Ray. He got him a mustache and a high, broad forehead. There is something kinda cunning in his expressive black eyes, though they seems also like they is the eyes of a idealist, but a idealist who is also a realist, ’cause he seem like he been everywhere in the world, maybe a disillusioned and jaded idealist.
And then as soon as I’m thinking that he saying it.
Ray wants to think that at least one of us isn’t disillusioned. Ray’s disillusioned, but he continues the revolution. He’s dubbed me the Eternal Revolutionist but I think that’s really a description of himself. To tell the truth, if Ray wasn’t in this revolution. I’d just go back to photographing revolution. That’s how Ray and I met, when I was photographing a revolution. I was never a revolutionary my ownself. I would just document revolutions, photograph them, photograph revolutionaries.
Well, some of them revolutionaries needs to be documented and photographed. I mean, they needs people to document they revolutions. I mean, you know what I mean. Do you know what I mean?
He nodded and said nothing. I was thinking that it meant that he knew now that I was one of the fools. He went over and got him a cup of wine, asked me again if I wanted any. I was sitting on a corner of the desk, ashamed of being a fool, when I looked up and he was standing beside me drinking wine.
He offered me some kinda biscuit and I nibbled on it.
My grandfather, he was saying, is a child of the Mexican Revolution of 1910. To soy revolucionario, he’s always saying. He still sees himself as a revolutionary. That’s how he defines himself. He was only a child during the revolution, but he still thinks of himself as a revolutionary. I’ve photographed child revolutionaries in various countries. They always seem like the purest.
I know this woman she got her a baby she got a little costume she sometimes put on him that make him look like a little baby Che and that make him look like a baby revolutionary.
Maybe he’s the only true revolutionary amongst us, said Alvarado and laughed. He sipped more of h
is wine and offered me some. I drank from it, then gave it back to him. He leaned against the wall.
Ray lets almost anybody join us. Some of these people belong in a carnival sideshow. And some of these privileged. I don’t think the privileged can be true revolutionaries. I think true revolutionaries must be the workers or the peasants. What do you think?
I ain’t know. Seem like to me that true revolutionaries can come from any group or class.
When I met Ray I was in this migration of El Salvadorans seeking refuge in Honduras and Guatemala. Ray was down there. I don’t know what he was. A lot of people thought he was CIA or some shit. Then when I met him again it was when we were both part of the Sanctuary movement. I think he was in El Salvador for love. I mean, as opposed to the CIA, you know.
I don’t say nothing. I don’t know if he probing me to see what I’ll tell him about Ray.
Maybe they is testing me to see if I’m loyal to Ray or to they revolution. I don’t say nothing.
I work mostly Texas now, he says. Sometimes California. Sometimes they send me to Chicago, Boston, New York, Washington, you know, to interview people.
I’d also heard that he supposed to be some type of psychiatrist, but I ain’t tell him what I’ve heard about him.
Does you still photograph peoples? I asks.
No. I don’t photograph people anymore. But, you know, traveling from one revolution to another, I know different languages, I understand different kinds of people. I’ve just come back from Chiapas. I’m working on the Chiapas Project.
I ain’t say nothing. I ain’t know whether I’m supposed to ask about the Chiapas Project or just let him tell me what he know. I knows this got to be some kinda test to see if I’m loyal to the revolution.
Perhaps a rebellion is a better name.
Say what? He saying something about rebellion, but I ain’t want to ask him exactly.
I was saying that perhaps rebellion is a better name. I was tempted to photograph again, in Chiapas, I mean. I’m disillusioned, but I have my uses. I know some medicine, I know some psychology, I know some diplomacy, I know some law, I know about filing asylum petitions, and I’m good at organizing.
That’s kinda like me. I’m ignorant about everything except what I know. I don’t exactly mean that. Well, you know what I mean.
Yeah. He nods and sips his wine. He go over and get some more of them biscuits and comes back and gives me some of them. I sips some more of that wine from his glass, but I don’t get me no wine of my own. I still got my Budweiser sitting in the coaster.
Sometimes refugees appear at my door, and I give them lodging. I’ve got a little adobe house out in the desert. You need to know where it is. I won’t draw you a map. Will you remember?
Yes, I says.
He tells me exactly where it is, but I ain’t going to tell y’all.
We’re all negritos, says Alvarado.
And then I knows that negritos the code word if I brings any peoples to his lodgings. Then we’s just standing there conversing with each other. I ain’t tell him too much about me, though, ’cause I still believes he the type of revolutionary that don’t suffer fools. So I’m mostly listening to Alvarado talking about his grandfather being a child of the Mexican Revolution. I can hear the other Underground Railroad peoples behind him talking, and then one of the women looks towards me and Alvarado and starts singing. Is you is or is you ain’t my baby?
The bughouse, didn’t I tell you?
I got to explain to y’all the origins of the “fool that I am” expression, at least as I knows them. Monkey Bread first wrote me a letter saying, The reason that I still loves John Henry is he knows me for the fool that I am. Then when I started dating John Henry I writes her and says, I understand why you loves John Henry, ’cause he knows me for the fool that I am, and still loves me. And then she wrote me a letter saying, My star knows me for the fool that I am and still asked me to be her personal assistant. Then she wrote me another letter saying, The reason I trusts the Daughters of Nzingha is because they know me for the fool that I am. Then I wrote her a letter saying, I don’t believe the Daughters of Nzingha really know you for the fool that you are. And she wrote me a letter saying, Nzingha herself knows me for the fool that I am and still wants me to be a Daughter of Nzingha. Then I wrote her and said, I don’t believe that Nznigha knows you for the fool that you are. And then she wrote me a letter saying, Nzingha, fool, not Nznigha. You think every time us gets together us supposed to have a nig in us. The Daughters of Nzingha. Then she wrote me a letter saying, Nadine, I think you really are the only person that knows me for the real fool I really am, and I’m the only person that knows you for the true fool that you are. Then, after watching the Oprah Winfrey show with some other womenfriend members of the Daughters of Nzingha, she wrote me and says, I know we is fools, Nadine, now you know if anybody know how much fools we is it’s me, but I don’t think, even knowing us for the fools that we are, that we’s as fools as some fools.
Alvarado, the eternal revolutionist, is talking to someone who look like that Carmelite nun but in plain clothes, yes it is the Carmelite nun ’cept she in plain clothes, when Raymond come over. I’m still standing near the writing desk reading. This book ain’t about Africa, though. A wild book by somebody named Clarence Farmer. Some kinda satire. I’m reading what he has to say about immigrants. And they’s a group of brochures there that say something about patient’s rights. Now I heard of that before. And then I see a bundle of documents that got written on them the Electra Project. I wants to open that bundle of documents but I don’t. Then I see a folded letter. I can only see the top of the letter ’cause of the way it’s folded.
Dear Ray,
I’m writing to you about Our Spiritual Mother.
Then I can’t read any other lines of that letter. However, it’s sitting next to the documents that says the Electra Project. I don’t know if it got to do with that project. I be thinking Father Raymond know all sorts of people. I don’t know whether that a cathedral project or a project with the new Underground Railroad. I be thinking how Ray be able to be my lover and fulfill on the demands of the revolution. I know I ain’t no type of revolutionary myself. All I does is transport them refugees. I do know that some of them refugees is revolutionaries in exile from they countries. I do know that some of them is even revolutionaries that has fought on different sides of the same revolution. I knows enough Spanish and few of them other languages now to know when I’m transporting them and they points at each other and say, I don’t forget, meaning they don’t forget what them other revolutionaries did on the other side of the same revolution.
I’m trying to transport them to refuge in America so I says, Y’all is in America now, and I don’t want y’all to start no revolution in the back of my truck. Comprende?
And sometimes they is so intent on not forgetting that I’s got to transport one group that fought on the same side in the revolution and then transport the other group that fought on a different side in the same revolution. But most of the time when I tells them not to start no revolution in the back of my truck, they don’t start no revolution in the back of my truck. They still tells each other, though, I don’t forget. Or sometimes they says, We don’t forget.
And if any y’all starts a revolution in the back of my truck, I ain’t gonna forget none of y’all neither, I says. This is my truck. Now I’m going to transport y’all to refuge like it is my commission to do, but I remembers every one of y’all. I ain’t involved in y’all’s rights like Father Ray, so I don’t mind transporting y’all to the immigration itself.
Now y’all know I ain’t going to be transporting them to the immigration, I just tells them that. But it is true that I ain’t as involved in they rights as Father Ray and Alvarado and the other Ray. I just transports them. I still takes an interest in the rights of Maria and her baby, though. And the more I learns about Father Ray’s projects, I takes interest in other people’s rights. And then like everybody else I’s g
ot my own rights to defend. But that don’t mean I gots to tolerate no revolution in the back of my truck.
Y’all can wait till I gets y’all to Koshoo’s farm, and then y’all can revolution there, I says, and then offers them some trail mix or beef jerky.
I saw you talking to the Eternal Revolutionist, say Raymond. What were you talking about?
Why you call him the Eternal Revolutionist? I says. But to tell the truth he’s kinda making me feel like I’m defending my own rights right now. You know, him asking me about my conversation with some other man. Except he ain’t asked it exactly the way some other mens asks it. Maybe he thinks that Alvarado wants me to get involved in more people’s rights than he think it my capacity to become involved with. I ain’t tell him that Alvarado told me about his adobe house in the desert, ’cause then I’m thinking maybe that ain’t no lodging for them refugees and maybe he just want to get me out to his house in the desert. Then I decides better not to go out to that house in the desert ’cept Ray tells me that it a stop on the new Underground Railroad. Then I’m wondering if Alvarado think Ray a real priest. Didn’t he think he in the CIA when he first met him? And what he say about Ray being in El Salvador for love? Or maybe he signifying on us making love? I’m wondering now if Ray told him about me being a Trojan woman like that commercial and then Ray telling him about us lovemaking and then about all them men in my union—I got to tell y’all about my union—and maybe he really do think I’m that Nadine they calling Nadine and think I know all the men in South Texas and then telling Alvarado about me and even if they is revolutionaries they’s still like men and maybe they’s like them men in Carnival Knowledge talking about women. Carnal Knowledge, fool, not Carnival Knowledge. Maybe Alvarado is just there playing me and ain’t got nothing to do with testing to see if I’m a loyal revolutionary. Then I’m standing there thinking about Alice Walker. I’m thinking these is revolutionaries and ain’t none of them asked me that question that revolutionaries always asks them that’s new to the revolution. I’d have to tell them about my stun gun. I’d have to tell them I gots me one of them newfangled stun guns from the trade fair in Galveston.