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RECEIVED

MAY 2 3 1974

UNfV. OF MASS.
ARCHIVES

%\ Us-

STAFF

Co-Editors Paul W. Barrows

Edward J. Rogers

Fiscal Rosa J. Emory

Imogene Lewis

Literary Lawrence E. Baugh

Carolyn Boiling
Joan Johnson
Michael Patterson
Janis Peters
Kenneth Wright

Black Image Co-ordinators. . . , L. Tommy Rocha

. . . . Clyde Santana
Randell Ramos

Photography Editor Eugene Niles

Jetta C. Eraser
Steven Texiseira

Administrative Secretary .... David R. Thaxton

Doris D. Williams

Office Staff Charline Abbott

Lorraine Harvey
Deborah McFarland
Rose Roberts
Greg Triplett

THE DRUM, WINTER 1974
Vol.5 No. 2

Editorial, circulation and advertising
offices located at 426 New Africa House,
University of Massachusetts, Amherst,
Mass. 01002.

Printing: Gazette Printing Co., Inc., Northampton, Mass.

CONTENTS

Page

3 Dedication

4 Editorial

7 The Torture Chamber

8 The Coming of They

10 Message to the People

11 Let Freedom Ring

14 The Mediumly Secured Luv Story

22 I Love You Because

23 Happy Remembrances/Problem Friends

24 The Installment Plan
34 Did We Really Love?
36 Acknowledgements

Edward J. Rogers

Hassan Shahid

Insan Sauti

(Roberts. Preston)

Frank (Hakim) Meranda

Charles Bracy

Insan Sauti

Larry C. Thomas

U cUdcccitect to. t^ ^%ot&&t^

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CH^^UtcUco*t tA'Cit d<^e^ tiot

CU^ UA^^tt, ^iU. CUtcC (vAcf

t^ecf a/ie t^^ne. Cut A.ow
ioH^ t^^Ot ccKctiAfruted
^^^CutcattA ^ xe^xtK

Universal Prisoner

Most people go around thinking they're free;

believing it's an easy way to be.
How many times are we told what to do

cause it's right, child, or wrong for you?
In your youth did you grow and achieve or did

you throw away the things you couldn't believe?
Do you run in guilt and in fear from all the

things you truly hold dear?
The Universal prisoner makes his own laws
The Universal prisoner has no need for stars.
He can't climb
He can't grow

and worst of all he doesn't know.
Do you share yourself in love.

What's inside
Or do you run to the phony world where most

people hide?
Are you honest like the lilies of the field

you see?
Hey, so ask yourself, are you truly free?

The universal prisoner makes his own laws

The universal prisoner has no need for stars.
Oh, no He can't climb

He can't grow
And worst of all he doesn't know.

No No No No No
No No No No No No No
The Universal Prisoner.
Whatcha you going to tell him?

The Universal prisoner
somebody's gotta talk to him

It's gonna be rough.

The universal prisoner

You gotta straighten him out.

You gotta get him outa his cell

no need to

can't stand it
Gotta find a better way to live
Tired of this jiving

No need

No No No

Whatcha you gonna do?

These lyrics were taken from Eddie Harris & Les McCann Second Movement Album.

In this issue you'll read things by brothers who may have been the guy next door or around the corner.
Their writings will try to get a message across to you without having you subject yourself to a confinement such
as the one they are going through. This is not to say that all Black people outside of prison are free, but as
Malcolm once said "Black people in the United States today are all in prison, the ones in the joint are just in
solitary confinement." (By the way Malcolm did time in Norfolk also.)

*Bisinillah-hir-Rahmaii-iiir-Rahim

And the children
grow up
and
become men.

Some go to

foreign soil,

shed blood

and

die for

some unknown cause

Many are thrown
in jails
to die

slow and torturous
deaths,

while mothers wait
in

empty homes
and

dream beautiful
dreams
that
will
never
be
realized

*In the name of Allah the All-Merciful

Streets lined with trash cans

Pregnant women hanging out of windows yeUing

YelHng to their children who are playing

In a playground that will never be

Each day coming home with a new cut

From a different broken wine bottle

The police circle endlessly to make sure

That no one leaves

While inside the rats eat the cat

Because they already ate the roaches

And the streets are still lined with trash cans

The men are only seen at night
Because at night things don't look so bad
And it's easier to slip from bar to bar
With their favorite night worker

All act as though they don't mind

And deep inside only pray

While watching from the apartment windows

The streets lined with trash cans

Kamau Madu
{carl w. griffin)
1972

The torture
chamber:

Welcome to the chamber of
horrors where we/the
victims of madness enact
our respective roles.

Down the street, round the
corner, through the
alleyway, we stumble upon
young brothers drinkin wine
talkin trash, smoking reefer
caught dead -up in a nodddddd
jimmm

highhhhh

pmmiwmssmtm^i

Moving along, we come across
beautiful black women/who are
to be the future mothers of our
children, selling their warm and
fertile bodies to some diseased
faggot for pleasure and the
exchange of a few dollars.

Down the way, preacher jones got
the church jumpin for joy sayin
"hallelujah, thank you jesus,
lawd ha mercy"

from across the burned -out
and vacant lots reminding
us strangely of war scenes,
comes the sickening smell of
fried pig wit eggs on the side,
they call that "soul -food" the
same ole shit they was feeding
our mothers and fathers back on
the slave plantation.

On sidewalks, in empty school -
yards we see groups of children
laughing and playing, seemingly
unaware of the approaching danger
of the genocide machine that
threatens to kill them in their
youth.

On we go in our journey through
the nightmare of illusion.
I see a dead cat lying in the
gutter/eyes gone/mouth hanging open/
body stiff./

The clouds shift, the winds blow,
the seasons change, and birds sing
harmonious melodies.

The sky is blue but changing
gray for the ghetto is where
we die from massive overdoses
of oppression.

Take (2) giant steps from the
ghetto/ pass the hospital where
they shoot you up with strange
drugs, and find yourself in the
grave/ the next giant step from
beyond the ghetto

2 a.m.
11/5/73: Shahid

Bismillah-hir-Rahman-nir-Rahim

The coming
of THEY:

The People of
THEY

came from far
away on

strange ships,
bringing
the strange

death
and pestilence
with them.

Before

The coming

of They,

THIS rich and fertile land

from which

sprang

my people/the children
of
the

SUN,
knew no air pollution

or
birth control pills.

The air swarmed with
an
abundance
of
free/
winged
spirits.

The hills

and plains were thick
with
herds

of buffalo
before
the coming
The coming
of THEY.

These strange people
that
came
from
beyond
the
rising
SUN,
They brought
their
strange
ways
and
foreign
tongue.

THEY brought
the werewolf /wolf man/
frankenstein/
and
the
curse
of

Death
with them to the
Land of
Sunshine
and
Plenty.

We welcomed them
with
food
and
open

arms
But they spit
in our

faces/
called
us

savages/
raped
our
women/
slaughtered
our

children/
and
threw
our
men
in

jails/
to die

cold and bitter
deaths.

The wars came and for
thousands
of

years
The air
EXPLODED

with
the
scream
of
death
and

hot winds
scorched
the
warm,
fertile
earth
turning her
dry
and
barren
from
lack
of
LOVE.

Who are THEY?
these strange
people
who

have
erected concrete
and

steel

monuments
of

DEATH.

Who are THEY?
these strange people
whose
words
speak
peace
and
whose
actions
breed
DEATH
and
DESTRUCTION.

Until we/
the children
of
the
SUN
can
reclaim
our
TRUE
place
in
the
UNIVERSE
and
subdue
the
strange
ones
who

learned
to

walk
on
their
hind
legs/
The earth can never know
PEACE/
and
our
children
will
always
know
slavery
as
our
fathers
and
mothers
have
who
walked
before
us . . .

11: p.m.
10/7/73: Shahid

Bismillah-hir-Rahman -nir-Rahim

Message to
the People:

In today's world, we find
it's lifestream threatening to be
exterminated by it's inhabitants.
There would appear to be a
thickening cloud of gloom over
the earth as nations are frantic-
ally preparing for war. Look any-
where and you will see chaos and
confusion and a growing dis-
content amongst the people.
The call is given, "destroy the
system! Change the system!

'^HBapF

Revolution!" For what good is it to destroy a system that oppresses when one cannot change
or destroy the ugliness within ones own self? After the smoke has cleared and the system is
no more, what is to prevent this existing state of madness that we live in from erupting again?
When all the bombs have been exploded, and all the bullets have been fired, will there be peace
again on this planet? Will there be a lasting solution to the human needs of the people?
Will the starving children of Vietnam know the peace and freedom denied them? Will the
children of the ghettos of America know what happiness and security is after the bombs have
exploded?

There can be no peace on this planet until all the people submit to Allah (creator & Sus-
tainer of all life forms)? and obey the laws of creation. All of nature is in a state of complete
harmony and order, man is the only part of creation that exists in a state of chaos. In conclu-
sion, man's lasting state of peace and harmony does not depend on his physical environment
alone.

As-salaamu-Alaikum-wa-RahmatuUah!

Shawwal 29, 1393 A.H.
(Nov. 25, 1973 A.D.)
Hassan Shahid

Let Freedom Ring:

By
(The scene opens revealing an open court room.
Seated in the court room are the participants of this
drama; the district attorney, the defense council,
and a young white male dressed like a "hippy" wear-
ing old dungarees, sandals etc. His lawyer walks
over to him and says)

"How do you feel?"
White Male— "How the hell do you think I'm sup-
posed to feel, I've been coming to this damned
court for the past two weeks, trying to see the
judge so I can plead guilty for those five masked
armed robberies."
Lawyer— "Well, just be cool, you know that you can
get a life sentence for just one masked armed
robbery, so sit tight."
(At this moment. Judge Peckerwood makes his en-
trance.)

Court Clerk— "All rise. Court is in session, all per-
sons having criminal business to attend to in
this district court, draw near and give your at-
tention."
Lawyer-Judge— "Your honor, my client wishes to
plead guilty and throw himself completely on
the mercy of the court.
(Judge is reading some papers that could be the de-
fendants criminal record.)

Judge— "I see that he has quite a bad criminal record;
fourteen escapes, three kidnappings, and five
assaults on correctional officers."
Judge— D. A. —"Do you have any recommendations?"
D. A. —"Well, your honor, if he will clean himself
up, I would recommend a sentence of not more
than seven years and no less than five years."
Judge-hippy— "It is my duty to inform you that you
are sentenced to serve not more than seven
years and no less than five years, provided that
you will clean yourself."
Hippy— "Yes sir, thank you, your honor, sir."
Clerk— "All rise, court is dismissed."

(Curtain closes for scene one)

(Scene two opens in the same manner as the pro-
ceeding scenes. Two men dressed in very conserva-
tive business suits are seated at the lawyers table
conversing with each other.)
(Judge Peckerwood enters)

Clerk— "All rise. Court is in session, all persons
having criminal business to attend to in this dis-
trict court, draw near and give your attention."
Judge-D.A.— "Do you have any evidence to pro-
duce to the court?"
D.A.— "Yes your honor, I have here copies of the
records of the defendants insurance company
that will show that for a period of ten years,
while Thomas J. Watergate III, esq. was presi-
dent of the insurance company, he misap-
propriated the sum of three million dollars."
Judge— "Is he here in the court-room?"
(The two men seated at the lawyers table stand and
say)

"No, your honor, Mr. Watergate is on vacation
in Bermuda with his family, and we are repre-
senting him. He informed us that all of the ar-
rangements had been taken care of, and he
sent us here to take care of the legal aspects of

Shahid

this trial. Your honor, may we approach the

bench?"
Judge— "Yes."

(They are now huddled together talking for awhile.
The huddle breaks and everyone goes back to his
place)

One of the lawyers says—

"Your honor, our client wishes to plead guilty

and throw himself upon the mercy of the court."
Judge— "So you know that a fine will have to be

paid."
Lawyers— "Yes, your honor and we are prepared to

pay it."
Judge— "I regret to say that I fine Mr. Watergate for

the sum of $1,000 dollars and sentence him to

six months, suspended sentence."
Lawyers— "Thank you sir, your honor sir. "
(The curtain closes for scene two, with the lawyers
shaking the D.A.'S hand.)

(Scene three opens in the same manner as the pro-
ceeding scenes. Seated in the courtroom are the de-
fense council, the district attorney, and a young
Black male of approximately seventeen years old. He
is talking with an elderly Black woman who is his
mother. His lawyer whispers something to the D.A.
then walks over to the young man and says)

"Are you sure you don't want to plead guilty,
I can still get you a deal?"
Yng Blk— "But why should I, I didn't rob that store,

I was helping my mother. She'll swear to that."
Lawyer— "You know I believe you, but it's just a
question of whether the judge will believe your
word over that of the arresting police officer."
Yng Blk— "Well, I still want to go through with it."
Lawyer— "'All right, if that's the way you want it,

I'm with you all the way."
(Judge Peckerwood makes his entrance)
Clerk— "All rise. Court is in session, all persons hav-
ing criminal business to attend to in this dis-
trict court, draw near and give your attention."
Lawyer stands and says—

"Your honor, I would like to have a continu-
ance."
Judge— "Denied."

Lawyer— "May I approach the bench?"
(Now we have them all huddled in a corner, all
busily talking about something that nobody but
themselves know about.)

Yng Blk— "What is all of this?" slight pause, "May-
be I might get a break after all, but I sure would
like to know what they"re talking about."'
(The huddle breaks and everyone goes back to their
respective places.)
Judge-D.A.— "Are you ready to proceed with the

prosecution?"
D.A— ""Your honor, two of my witnesses are on va-
cation in Europe, and are not available at this
time."
Judge— ""Do you need more time?"'
D.A. —'"No, your honor, we have the arresting
police officer here, and I'm sure that his word
will be good enough.'"
(Lawyer leaps to his feet.)

—"Your honor, I object."

Judge— "Sit down. Motion denied."

Judge-D.A.— "Are you ready to proceed?"

D. A.— (Grinning all over himself)

—"Yes, your honor. I would like to bring
Patrolman Lebowskiwitz to the stand."

Clerk— "Raise your right hand. Do you solemnly
swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but
the truth?"

Police— "I do."

Clerk— "You may be seated."

Judge-Police— "One last question. Patrolman Le-
bowskiwitz. Do you have any biased or
prejudicial feelings towards Black people
that might interfere with your reasoning at this
moment, due to the fact that the accused is a
Black male, and the crime was perpetrated
against loyal White citizens of this country."

(Lawyer leaps up again)

—"Your honor, I object."

Judge— "You will please hold your tongue, young
man while these proceedings are going on, I'm
in control here. One more outburst like that and
I'll have you removed from this court."

Judge-Police— "Please excuse this interuption. Do
you have any biased or prejudicial feelings
toward Black people that might interfere with
your reasoning at this moment, due to the fact
that the accused is a Black male, and the crime
was perpetrated against loyal White citizens of
this country?"

Police— "No, your honor."

Judge-D.A.— "You may proceed."

D. A. —"Thank you, your honor."

D. A. -Police— "For the records sir, will you please
give the court your full name and occupation?"

Police— ""My name is Peter Lebowskiwitz, I am as-
signed to Station 109, 1 work on the p.m. shift."

D. A. —"'Will you please tell the court what you were
doing on the night of August 12th?"

Police— "At approximately 9 p.m. I was driving
along the inner city boulevard I noticed that the
lights were off in Weisberg's drugstore, and
this seemed strange because Weisberg usually
stays open until midnight on the weekends.
Moving very carefully, I approached the front
of the drugstore and looked in. I saw a Black
male taking money out of the cash register, I
then told him to halt, and that he was under
arrest."

D.A.— "Did you get a good look at him?"

Police— "Yes."

D.A.— "Do you see him in the court room?"

Police— "Yes, he is the defendant (points to young
Black male.)

D.A.— '" You may continue."

Police— "He then fired a shot at me, and disappeared
to the back of the drugstore, the door was open,
so I followed in pursuit of him. The back door
was also open, and I came out hoping to see
him, but he had completely disappeared."
D. A. —"What else happened?"

Police— "As I was walking back to my car, two
women called out to me from the apartment
building across the street, they told me that they
had seen a Black male come running out of the
back of the drugstore and they gave me a des-
cription?"
Police (reading from paper)

—"Black male, approximately 5 feet, 8 inches,
smooth-shaved, and wearing a black jacket." "I
then reported to the police station and proceed-
ed to the neighborhood pool hall.'"

D. A. —"'What was your intention for going to this
place?"

Police— "Well, 1 have some informers who are usual-
ly in this area, and I had hoped to get some in-
formation, but upon approaching the pool hall,
I saw the defendant standing in the doorway."

D.A.— "Is he the same person that you saw in the
drugstore earlier that evening?"

Police— "Yes sir."

D.A.— " You may continue."

Police— "I then put him under arrest on suspicion
of armed robbery."

D.A.— "No further questions."

Defendant's Lawyer-Police

—""Sir if I recall correctly, you testified earlier
that you saw the defendant in the drugstore on
the night that the crime in question was com-
mitted."

Police-"Yes, I did."

Lawyer— "You also testified that the lights were off
in the drugstore, is that correct?"

Police-"Yes I did."

D.A.— " Your honor, I object."

Judge— "Denied."

Judge-Lawyer— ""You may continue."

Lawyer-Police—

"If it was dark in the drugstore as you testified
earlier, then how could you possibly have been
able to make out the features of the defendant
under such poor lighting conditions?"

(D.A. leaps to his feet, knocking chairs and books

over.)

— "Your honor, I object to this type of ques-
tioning."'

Judge— "Motion sustained."

D.A. —"Thank you your honor. May I approach the
bench?"

(Another huddle, the defendant's lawyer is going

through a lot of changes.)

Yng Blk— "Man, this don't look too cool at all."

(The huddle breaks and they all go back to their

places.)

Defendant's lawyer— "No further questions."

Judge replies— ""We will have a short recess."

Clerk— "All rise, court is in recess."' (Judge leaves.)

(Lawyer is now talking with defendant and de-
fendants mother)

Clerk— ""All rise, court is in session, all persons
having criminal business to attend to in this
district court, draw near and give your atten-
tion."

Judge— "In view of the overwhelming evidence
given by Patrolman Lebowskiwitz, I have no al-
ternative but to find the defendant guilty of
armed robbery, and because of the violent na-
ture of the crime, I sentence you to not more
than 40 years and no less than 20 years."

Woman begins crying—

""But judge, I need him at home, I'm all alone,
and I have no one to help me."

Judge (very stern)— "I'm sorry ma'm, but he has
committed a crime for which he must pay."

(Woman begins crying louder as the curtains close

for the end.)

Man come talking to me about Nation Time
Man talking to me
With a gun in his hand
A needle in his arm
And a bottle of wine in his pocket
_ Talking about Nation Time
Nation Time

He can't see his son standing on the corner
Crying for his mother
Who's down the block
Giving out V.D. pamphlets
To all her victims
Talking about free the land

Man come talking to me about Nation Time

His forefathers were Africans

But somehow he's a Negro

Don't even know how

Needle in his arm

Wine in his pocket

Gun in his hand

Talking about Nation Time

Don't know why

Little boy still standing on the corner crying

Got no where to go

Never did

His mother had to go get more pamphlets

Talking about free the land

Kamau Madu
(carl w. griffin)

"The Mediumly Secured Luv Story''

Ronnie looked up from the letter
he was reading and out through the
bar cluttered window. He couldn't
seem to keep his thoughts from
wandering. He couldn't get his
emotions under control. This had
been opening with more frequency,
each time he received a letter from
Beth. Love letters, revealing a need
impossible for him to fulfill.

"Damn!," he thought, "Why
couldn't I be there?"

The answer was there, all around
him, outside his window, on his
back, he was in prison. He had
been there now, for more than four
years— one third of a twelve to fif-
teen year sentence. On top of that,
he had received another ten to fif-
teen years, to be served after the
first was finished— the result of an
appeal made to the higher courts.

Things were becoming increas-
ingly worse for him, and now, the
one thing that ever really meant
anything to him was becoming his
worst enemy.

He returned to the letter, finding
it slipping from his knee to the
floor. His right hand shot out,
managing to snare the corner of one
page as the other continued its
journey to the floor. Ronnie
pushed himself off the bed and
picked up the other page. A large
cockroach, obviously female and
pregnant, made a dash toward his
locker. He allowed it to nearly
reach its shelter before bringing his
foot down and filling the Saturday
afternoon silence of his room with
the squish sound. Setting himself
back upon the bed, he re-read the
last paragraph of the letter, stop-
ping to allow the last of it to rever-
berate in his mind.

"You are so strong. To cope with
that vicious place and those sick
minds takes strength. Nothing
they have done has broken or de-
stroyed your spirit. And I consider
you a prize, cause there are none
out here like you. The girls and I
need you. We need you home with
us."

Ronnie didn't quite agree with
her about his strength, at least not
anymore. In the two years he had
known Beth, a change had taken
place. She had recreated him anew.

He never thought any woman pos-
sessed the power to change him to
the degree Beth had. The effect she
had on him was as unexpected as
the day she entered his life. Sitting
there staring at her letter through
unseeing eyes, Ronnie thought
back to that Tuesday afternoon.

It had been an exceptionally hot
day, and he had been on his way to
the basketball court, to hopefully
get in a fast game before the work
whistle blew. He had worn his
sweatshirt and was paying the price
in a constant barrage of sweat,
burning his eyes and saltmg his
mouth. It was torture, a torture
that was self-inflicted. He could
have worn a T-shirt, like everyone
else. But he never passed up a
chance to display some sign of re-
volt. He wasn't into any militant or
revolutionary bag. But he remem-
bered one day, while sitting at a
sewing machine in the clothing
shop, how subtle and petty the op-
pression was in this particular pri-
son. The institution regulations
demanded all men wear a blue uni-
form, with their names written on
the back in red thread. It all hit
home one day he attempted to sew
the seam of a shirt with black thread
—regulations called for white thread.
He was charged with "Refusing to
follow orders," and thrown in the
hole for five days, with a one-meal-
a-day penalty. That began his
clothing revolt. But it was days
like these when Ronnie had second
thoughts about his undeclared re-
volt. Now he walked the quad-
rangle, continuously swabbing his
caramel brown face.

The prison was supposed to be a
"medium security institution,' but
it was kind of difficult to believe. It
was structured like a small college
campus inside, with eighteen dorm-
itories—nine on the east side and
nine on the west. Further back be-
yond the dormitories on either side
were two large fields, each capable
of allowing two simultaneous base-
ball games. To the north of the
compound was the school building
and O.I.C. (officer in charge), be-
hind it were the shops, where men
were paid twenty-five cents a day
to make birdbaths, roadsigns and
prison clothing. To the south were

the auditorium, the visiting room,
the warden's office, and the door
that lead to the invisible prison of
society. In the center of all this was
a small grassed area, much like a
midget football field, set dead center
was a short evergreen tree, grow-
ing unobstructed. The institution
was surrounded by a chain link
fence with three lines of barbed wire
running across its top, and this
was surrounded by a twenty-foot
concrete wall, topped by three lines
of electric wire. Strategically placed
in each corner, atop the wall, were
guard towers that housed bullet
proof glass, one guard and a loaded
machine gun. This was their idea
of "medium security."

Also in the east field area was
the basketball court. As Ronnie was
about to make the turn between two
dormitories, the loud-speaker
blared out his name.

"Ronald Barns, return to your
unit, you have a visitor. Ronald
Barns. . . ."

Before they repeated the call, he
had changed directions and was
headed back to his unit. He hadn't
received a visit in almost a year now,
and wondered who it could be. His
heart drummed against his chest
and a river of sweat ran as if from a
burst dam. His nose itched and his
legs were wobbly. His mind began
scanning a list of names, searching
for the could-be visitor. He knew
it wasn't his mother, because she
worked during the week and could
only come on weekends. His sister
was out of town. He entertained
the possibility of it being one of his
old friends, finally curious enough
to find out if he was still alive. He
continued his game of mental char-
ades until he reached the door of
his unit.

Rushing up the stairs to the third
floor, he removed his sweatshirt
as he went. Disappearing into his
room, he quickly emerged with a
washcloth and a bar of soap and
went into the community bathroom,
he would have a poor man's show-
er. Looking into the mirror he de-
cided the morning's shave was still
usable. Rushing out of the bath-
room and back into his room he
glanced over the socks in his locker

and picked a pair of over-the-calves
black banlons. He dressed like an
entertainer between sets, then made
his way down the stairs and out
the door, snatching up his pass as
he went.

The work whistle had blown
and the other men were on their way
back to the shops. He dodged and
weaved between the men, making
his way for the visiting room.
Sweat trickled down the back of
his neck like little bullets as he went
to his back pocket for a handker-
chief, but discovered that in his
haste he had left it behind. He de-
bated a return to the unit but settled
for his hand, which wasn't much
help.

Coming into view of the visiting
room windows, he slowed his pace
and tried, with little success, to re-
gain some of his lost composure.
In front of the windowed visiting
room door, he adjusted the self-
made hi-boy collar on his prison
shirt and made sure his creased
dungarees were all right. He entered
the short corridor unbuttoning his
sweater to undergo a search. These
searches always irritated him. He
wondered what they had inside im-
portant enough to smuggle out to a
visitor.

Considering a little good natured
needling, Ronnie decided against it.
He was more interested in this mys-
terious visitor, and didn't particu-
larly want to be detained by some
fool guard, looking to add another
lock-up to his record. Not right
now anyways.

"Damn!," he thought, "who can
it be?"

The guard finished his search
and Ronnie proceeded on to the
visiting room. Dropping his pass
on the desk, he searched the cramp-
ed room for a familiar face. There
were none. Walking further into
the room, he looked over to his left.
There were two Black women seated
at ninety degree angles from each
other. One looked as though she
could've been one of those Black
movie actresses. She wore a yellow
miniskirt and halter, displaying
smooth walnut skin. The other
wore loose fitting grey slacks and
a black sweater jersey. She was
very appealing in that way only a
Black woman can be. She wore a
headwrap and sat as regally and
dignified as a queen. But, Ronnie
knew neither.

Walking in their direction, he
wished one would give some sort of
sign that would ease the unpleasant
confusion filling his mind, but
neither did. This meant he'd have
to make the appropriate move him-
self.

His palms were sweating and he
felt irritable. The small fans did
nothing to cool him. He found him-
self wishing he were back in the
shops.

"Excuse me sisters," he started,
"are either of you here to visit
Ronald Barns?"

The woman in slacks looked up
at him with an ice-melting smile and
eyes that looked like dark wells.

"Yes," she said, "I am," nervous-
ness evident in her voice.

Ronnie was glad it was her. He
had developed an aversion toward
the movie star type— though they
were well endowed with good looks
—they had been proven to have too
much ego. But this woman seated
before him just possessed a magnet-
ism, an inner beauty, that seemed to
pull at him deep inside, as if he
were being exercised. He sat down
across from her on one of the back-
less benches. Not knowing what to
say, he produced a lame "Hi."

Her smile split in half, displaying
teeth usually seen only in tooth-
paste commercials. She broke the
awkward silence and eased Ronnie's
growing discomfort.

"My name is Beth," she began,
"Beth Sumner. Jamil sent me up to
visit you. He said you don't re-
ceive any visits. "

That was an understatement. He
saw members of his family maybe
once or twice a year. His friends
seemed to have cut him loose from
the very beginning. In reality, he
didn't receive any visits at all.

He looked at her smooth brown
skin, the full lips and nose. Her
forehead was creased in question.

"Jamil definitely told you, right?"
Ronnie replied. "How is he doing?"

"Fine, " she answered, "he had
trouble getting himself adjusted at
first. But now he's working, find-
ing jobs for other brothers and sis-
ters getting out on paroles."

Ronnie nodded his head. Jamil
was one of the brothers he got along
with well. He had kept a room full
of the latest Black books, and was
a student in the prison college pro-

gram. His intentions were to go to
college upon his release, but it cost
money, so he got a job. Ronnie
could never figure out what it was
about Jamil he liked, but he listened
to him as though he were some
great philosopher on life.

It was Jamil, out of all the others
who had made promises, who fol-
lowed through on his. But there
would come a time when Ronnie
would wish Jamil had done as the
others.

When he left the visiting room
that day, it was as if everything had
taken on new life and meaning. His
head was held noticeably higher
and a feeling of goodness and pride
shown in his smiling face. He
rushed back to his room, immedi-
ately wrote Jamil a thank-you letter,
and then laid back to savor the
events of the afternoon.

Ronnie had had the same effect
on Beth. Every Tuesday he could
look forward to a visit from hep,
and maybe four to five letters a
week. He found she was 23, unmar-
ried, and had two daughters,
Hasani, 5 and Tamu, 6. After her
second daughter was born, she had
begun attending various communi-
ty meetings, and it was at one of
these meetings she had met Jamil.

She and Jamil's woman knew
each other, and Jamil, after seeing
her several times at meetings and
noticing the absence of any male
companion, asked if she'd like to
visit a brother in prison. She had at
first been hesitant, but later said
she would give it a try.

Pulled back to the present by
someone calling, Ronnie listened
closely. The voice called for some-
one else. It was a drag being on the
third floor in his unit. It was very
difficult hearing when you were be-
ing called. He folded the letter ly-
ing in his lap and placed it back in
its envelope. Looking out the
window he saw two uniformed
guards escorting a white inmate
down the quad, heading in the di-
rection of the separate confinement
building.

He thought back on how wild he
used to be, before he met Beth. Very
few days went by without some sort
of disciplinary action. They all cen-
tered around incidents like the red,
white and blue shirts, or just turn-
ing the tables and harassing the
guards as they did everyone else.

Sometimes he would just walk tall
and proud, the guards hated it, and
would, more often than not, lock
him up for "silent insolence." It
never really bothered Ronnie,
whether he did his time in solitary
or in population. Besides, it was a
means of breaking the monotony
of his humdrum existence.

But things began to change when
Beth came into his life. A trip to
solitary meant he might miss one of
Beth's visits, or there'd be letters he
would never see. His relationship
with her had become the most im-
portant thing in his life at this point,
besides trying to get his case over-
turned in court.

Leaning over from the bed, he
pulled a cigarette from the pack on
his desk, lit it and threw the match
into the open commode. The room
was an eight by four coffin, in
which he slept, studied, entertained,
and made his calls to nature; living-
room, bedroom, and bathroom, all
in one. He slid off the bed and
paced back and forth in the cramp-
ed space.

"This god-damn prison!!! This
god-damn prison!!!," he repeated
to himself.

Ronnie laid down on his bed,
made to prison specifications, and
thought back to when the relation-
ship between he and Beth had taken
its turn from a friendship to the
deeply involved, and equally frus-
trating relationship it was now. It
was really inevitable. After the ex-
haustion of ideological discussions,
they just moved on to things emo-
tionally closer.

Beth had been visiting well over a
year then, and had begun bringing
her daughters. That particular day
she wore a banana-yellow pants
suit and her hair blown-out into a
large crown of an afro. Hasani
and Tamu, dressed in small replica
suits of their mother's, had gone off
to explore the still incomprehensive
environment. Their laughter rose
and fell in little melodic rhapsodies
through the sunlit room. Ronnie
wondered if there would still be
prisons, as he knew them, when
they grew into womanhood. Would
they suffer the same agony and
despair he was sure plagued Beth?
Would their men leave them and
their children for greater mobility?
Would their sons fall prey to the
self-undoing effects of drugs, or

the fratricidal life of the streets?
Would they end up forced to view
their pasts from prison cells like
himself? He recalled an article he
had read of a Black woman, who,
in this day and age, took the lives
of her young son and daughter.
When asked why, she replied, "I
refuse to subject my children to an
existence that predestines them to
sorrow and despair." His thoughts
were broken as he realized the girls
had ceased their play and were now
staring up into his face. A wave of
embarrassment engulfed him, as
though they had heard his thoughts.

Hasani leaned on his leg and
smiled up at him.

"Mommy said you're gonna come
home and be our daddy. Are you?"
"Are you gonna come live with
us?" Tamu added.

Ronnie's thoughts had ventured
in that area already, but he hadn't
been sure about Beth. How would
she respond to having a man who
could only love her from afar?
Looking into her dark liquid eyes,
he knew he would have to speak
now or never.

"My case will be heard in court
soon," he started, "and there is a
possibility ... I mean, it is time we
started seriously considering what
we want and where we can go with
this relationship. " He noticed a
flash of alarm cross her smooth
face.

"Ronnie, I knew we would even-
tually get to this point. But it's not
just that easy. It will be hard on
both of us." She paused and con-
tinued, "But I want to share all of
you, as much as the circumstances
will allow. I really love you and I
wonder if we're doing the right
thing by getting deeply involved."

Maybe it was that deep rooted
need for female companionship, or
the lack of communication with his
family, or just the drab smothering
atmosphere of prison life. All he
knew was he had very Httle resist-
ance to Beth's charm and woman-
liness. It made no difference to
him then because he was happy in
a way he hadn't been in a long time.

But it wasn't until now that the
real significance of what Beth said
hit home. The constant states of
depression after reading her letters
never left him. There was an unre-
lenting agony of watching her leave
each visiting period, and wanting so

badly to accompany her. And then
there was the paranoia, wondering
if her nights were spent alone. The
very things he had once cherished-
so strongly were now turning into
his antagonists.

Ronnie was again made conscious
of his physical surroundings by a
knock at his door.

"Barns," he provided as he
watched the guard check it off his
count sheet. He watched the door
close, leaving him again to his frus-
trations.

Getting up from the bed, he
placed Beth's letter in his desk
drawer and then went to the sink
and filled his cup with water. His
sentence had been upheld in court
and it was just about certain he'd
have to serve his time.

He tried to remember something
Jamil had said in one of his essays.
He went through his desk drawer
and found the copy Jamil had sent
him.

"... and lack of communication

with the outside world leads to

the creeping despondency that

attaches itself to your soul and

fosters fatalistic attitudes. . . ."

"Fuck Jamil!" he thought. "If it

hadn't been for him I wouldn't be

going through these damn changes

now."

Sitting down on the open com-
mode, he leaned against the sink
and stared at the opposite wall. It
was filled with pictures cut from
various Black magazines; Black
men and women together, with love
in their eyes. He had put them there
as his feelings for Beth had grown.
But they no longer made him feel
good inside anymore. They were
only reminders of his severance
from the community and the woman
who was inadvertantly causing him
so much emotional distress.

Standing, he placed his cup on
the desk and opened his locker.
After searching a few minutes, he
produced a large manila envelope
and poured its contents out onto
the bed. They were pictures of
nude white women in various ob-
scene poses. He placed a towel
over the window of the door and
pushed a chair against it, and then
spread the pictures on his bed and
unzipped his fly. It was a temporary
method of deaUng with frustra-
tion.

When finished he placed the pic-

tures back in the envelope and re-
turned it to his locker. He then laid
down on the bed to think some
more. He thought of the restraint
he had to use each time Beth came.
Many times they had sat in the
visiting room and happened to see
another inmate either with his hand
in his woman's blouse or under her
dress. There were times when he
had thought of engaging in the
same type of action, but he hadn't
wanted to disrespect Beth that way
so he would return to his room after
a particularly frustrating visit and
pull out his skin flicks.

"Damn!" Ronnie thought. "I
was in better shape when I wasn't
getting any visits at all. . . ." Every-
thing seemed to stand still as though
they were placed suddenly into
suspended animation. "That's what
I have to do," he affirmed to him-
self. Sitting up, he reached over to
his desk drawer and pulled out a
pad and pen and began to write.

". . . and please don't bring the
girls, it's best that you come alone."

He finished the letter and put it
in an envelope and placed a stamp
on it. Snatching up a shirt, he took
it downstairs to the mailbox and
went outside to make a couple of
laps around the quadrangle before
the supper whistle. He felt as
though he had been shot through
with new life.

"It's bad enough doing time with-
out anyone," he thought, "but if
I'm gonna have a woman to help
me out, I have to have total and
complete access to her. It would be
too frustrating any other way. "

By the time Tuesday rolled
around, he had memorized what he

was going to say and how he would
say it. Getting dressed, he went
over it one last time.

"Beth, honey, you've got to un-
derstand that this is in the best in-
terest for both of us. My sentence
was upheld in Supreme Court and
it looks very probably that I'll end
up doing another five years at the
least. That's too long for the both
of us to continue on as we are. I
can't even function and you're not
doing much better. The girls need
all the attention you can give them
and I can't do anything but hinder
you. And baby I'll never make it
through this bit, as long as those
walls are between us. It's un-
natural. . . . "

He switched on the radio and
looked at his watch. "Damn!" he
thought. "She should've been here
by now."

Lighting a cigarette, he laid back
on the bed to wait.

"Man, I'm gonna miss her. Miss
the girls too. But it's for the best all
around. I hope she doesn't make a
scene."

The radio announcer gave the
time. Ronnie checked his watch.

"Damn! 2:45?" He leaped from
the bed. Visits began at 1:00 and
he generally was one of the first
called.

"Maybe they called and I didn't
hear them," he thought. "Let me
go check."

Rushing down the stairs, he
found the guard in his office read-
ing a copy of PT 109. Ronnie hur-
ried in looking across the desk for a
possible pass-slip. Sitting up, the
guard leaned over the top of the
book.

"What do you want. Barns?"

Not wanting to get this guy start-
ed, Ronnie got right to the point.

"Have you called me for a visit
yet, Mr. Pierce?"

Seeing an opportunity to harass
Ronnie, Pierce slammed the book
down and stared him in the eyes.

"Barns, it's my job to call you and
let you know when you got a visit.
When they call me, I call you. And
I didn't call!"

Ronnie started to retort but
thought better.

"I can't blow this one," he
thought, "but where can she be?
She's never been later."

As he left the office. Pierce sent a
cynical lear at his back, then re-
turned to his book feeling much
better.

Ronnie returned to his room and
laid back on his bed. He was tired
and exhausted from the strain too
much mind work can produce^ Soon
he fell off to sleep and didn't wake
until the supper whistle blew.

The next few weeks his mind was
in a state of confusion. He had
written Beth asking what had hap-
pened, but he received no replies.
There were no more visits and by
the fourth week he was back into
his old groove; five days in solitary
confinement for refusing to work,
and four days for contraband— a
steak, etc.

Even though things were back to
the old routine, there was always
the question of how things would
have fared under different circum-
stances. And on many mornings
Ronnie awoke to find his pillow wet
and old memories unbearable.
Insan Sauti
(Robert S. Preston)

Insan Sauti (Robert S. Preston)

Insan Sauti was born in Lowell, Massachusetts on March 8, 1949.
He is presently serving a "life" sentence in Norfolk Prison where he is
Co-Director of the Elma Lewis Technical Theatre Training Program, a
drummer for the institution band "Astro-Infinity Plus One," and is a
student of U-Mass, Amherst U.W.W. (University Without Walls) Pro-
gram working toward a B.A. in Theatre Arts. His first play, "The Install-
ment Plan," was the recipient of the 1972 Barbedwire Theatre Literary
Award, and was first published in the Drama and Theatre Magazine. Co-
Author of the prison anthology "Who Took the Weight?"— short stories,
plays, poetry and essays, his poetry has since appeared in Zahir, The
Onyx, Write On, BAD, Hey Out There, and RALSA. He has done several
public readings around the Massachusetts area and has recently completed
his first book of poetry, "Makungu"— still in manuscript.

THE UNITS, OR

^ERE THEY DORMS?

^^^^^^ '^^1^^^^

r\m

Mimn

WHEN THE WALLS BECOME TOO COLD, AND THE
CLOSENESS OF MY CELL SHOUTS AT ME AND TELLS
ME THAT I DON'T EXIST ... I TELL MYSELF THAT
"I AM", AND IN BEING WHAT I MAY, IN ORDER TO
KNOW MYSELF, I MUST BECOME CLOSER TO MY OWN
INNER MOTIVATIONS. BRINGING THE NEARNESS OF THE
WALLS INTO AN AREA OF CONTROLLED AND UTILIZED
KNOWLEDGE WITH WHICH I UNIFY MY MIND.

KEETIE . . .

Yesterday, when the fragrance of
my peoples' brow became their first river
of independence we sang songs of freedom
as we worked in your fields.

And when you thought that you had raped

my great race to the lowest point of intimidation,
we stood up and spoke with what you could only
term as "sass. "

And when you wanted us to think that you "might" be
getting ready to start considering us as "Nee-grows,
we tore up your cities and told you our names.

So now you say that in this opportune land of your free,
you have a plan that will show us how sincere
you are in helping my people to become
as equal as you.

Only this will never do,

because the taste of salt is still in our mouths
and the blisters on our feet

ain't even started to get ready to consider
thinking about healing

Keetie 1/18/73

I LOVE YOU BECAUSE

You are the one Woman who has hfted my spirit.

You have instilled in me the will to Live on.

I seek my solitude in the Comfort of your Arms.

You are my Beginning and my End.

You are my Eternity, Infinity, and Utopia.

Without you, there is no me, no Todays, no Tomorrows,

or Yesterdays.
In you I see Our Lives renewed a Billion times.
When I am beaten and down hearted, you give me

Hope to strive on.

After all of this
I have YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE MY BLACK WOMAN.

Frank (Hakim) Meranda

HAPPY REMEMBRANCES/PROBLEM FRIENDS

Yesterday, I was alone

But I found some friends today

I started recalling people I knew

A long time ago

They filled me with remembrances

Of lovely moments long ago

Which today brought me, great affection

I was alone yesterday. But I found

Some friends today.

Though they do not consider me
The friend I consider them
And if their hearts do not thrill for me
The way mine thrills for them
They will always be my friends!

Their love for me

May be just a dimly-lit affection

I'll try to make my love for them

Keep glowing on forever.

Though 1 cannot go near them — just now

May not I still Love them.

Charles Bracy

The Installment Plan

INSAN SAUTI

C(5J)yrfght 1972 by Robert S. Preston

Dedicated to the many Black Men
who have been forced into Hving
their Uves on installments. And

John (Dinky) Elliott, who closed

out his account permanently— while

on one of his many visits to minimum

security. (May Allah put a thousand

curses on his antagonists. )

CHARACTERS

Kitu (writer)

Alton

Kappie (drummer)

New Man (no name)

Cardplayer 1

Cardplayer 2

Cardplayer 3

Cardplayer 4

Guard

Gerald (Alton's brother-in-law)

Choker (pusher)

3 Junkies

White Cop

2 Bro. Selling Papers

Dee (pimp)

Holly and Susanne (prostitutes)

Jomo

Sundiata

Bobby Lee

Hasani

Xiomara and Omawale (dancers)

Jessica (Alton's wife)

Isis (Jomo's wife)

TIME ORDER

Scene I
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4

1st month through 4th
2nd month through 3rd
5th month
6th month

Scene I
(The curtains open revealing a prison tier with
seven cells, each numbered in bold black paint above
each entrance. There is a railing extending the length
of the tier. On the tier are seven Black men in blue
dungarees and blue shirts. Four are engaged in a card
game: they are seated on buckets and have a large
cardboard resting on their knees. Another man is
reading a book on the Black experience: he is seated
in front of cell number seven. And another, seated in
front of cell four, is busy writing — has papers scat-
tered all about him. The last man sits in front of cell

two; he is beating on an empty box with drumsticks. A
uniformed guard enters from stage left and proceeds
down the tier, stepping on the writer's papers and
kicking the drummer's box as he goes. Both men look
in his direction as he proceeds off stage right then
return to what they had been doing.)

CARDPLAYER 2: Boy, that's a sick mutha fucka
there .... I bet he came all over his self .... perverted
mutha fucka.

C.P. 4: (Shuffling the cards.) Yeah, he's the type
that would get him a whore and beat her with a stick,
then have her piss in his face.

C.P.I: Reminds me of when I had my two ladies out
on the block ....

C.P. 4: Aw sucka, quit lying .... you ain't qualified
to turn out a dog! .... That's why you jumped out a
tree on that bitch and got yourself this bid.

C.P. 1: Fuck-you sucka .... I didn't jump that
stinking bitch ....

C.P. 4: What happened then, she jump you?

C.P. 1: She gave it up ... . and later on when her
whitey friends saw us together, she hollered rape ....
to save her reputation!

C.P. 4: Then you still a sucka sucka!!!!!!!!

C.P. 1: Well, how bout you, chump? They say you
was doing so bad, you tried to take off a grocery store .
. . . say they found you in the freezer, eating orfttf them
pre-cooked hams. (Everybody breaks out in
laughter.) They said .... when the pigs asked . ... (Is
laughing as he speaks.) .... asked you what you was
doing there .... you told them that you was the
security guard! a ! ... ha ha ha ha! Now if that ain't a
sucka then chicken ain't poultry. (C.P. 1 and C.P. 2
slap each other five.)

C.P. 3: Com'on ya'll, play cards . . . ya'll can signify
later on. (C.P. 4 begins to deal the cards, C.P. 2 is
looking into C.P. I's hand.)

C.P. 1 : Hey sucka, get your damn nose out my hand.

C.P. 2: Shit nigger, the way you be holding that
mutha fucka, Ray Charles could see it.

C.P. 3: Com'on man, what cha'll gonna do, run your
jibs or play cards? My back is sore ... I think I'm
gonna quit after this game anyways.

C.P. 4: Well you ain't got long to wait, cuz ya'll
gonna be leaving damn soon, ha ! (Slams card down on
board.)

C.P. 2: (In a whining tone.) Damn man, why you do
that? You saw I was out of clubs.

C.P, 3: Say man, no talking over the gaddam board.
. . . That's what I hate about you niggers . ... (Is cut
off by the Loud Speaker.)

L.S.: Alton Shannon, report to the H.M.I.C. Alton
Shannon, report to the H.M.I.C. (Man in front of cell
seven stands and goes off stage left. Everyone glances
in his direction, then returns to what he was doing.)

C.P. 2: Now where he going?

C.P.3: Might be going to pick up his walking papers.

C.P. 4: Walking papers?! Shit, he ain't going no
damn place. That Lame got a record as long as fifty
tapeworms, plus he done got hooked up in that Black
Bullshit. The parole board'll hurry up and turn him
down. They don't want to hear no shit like that.

C.P. 3: If he goes anyplace, you can bet it won't be
for long. (He stretches his arms and yawns.) If "they"
let him go, it'll be cuz he shows promise of coming
back .... Got to stay in business, y'know?

C.P. 2: Say, I heard that Jimmie James is on his
way back ....

C.P. 3: Yeah . . . (Yawn.) . . . Bring his two brothers
with him .... Say they was stretching out to the
suburbs with their smack trade ....

C.P. 2; Yeah, them ole rich whiteys didn't dig that
shit at all . . . When the man came down on 'em, they
had $250,000 worth of pure dynamite action, plus a few
shot-guns and 38's. Boy, them lames wasn't jiving.
(All nod their heads in agreement, WRITER begins to
put his papers away.)

WRITER: That ought to tell you something.

C.P. 4: Here goes that stiff again. Go on, rigor
mortis, what you got to say?

WRITER: You keep up that bullshit, you won't be
around to hear it.

C.P. 4: Aw man, can't nobody jive with you?

WRITER: (Ignoring C.P. 4.) That ought to tell you
where they're really at. They don't give a damn, as
long as we're messing over ourselves, but the minute
we think about giving them a taste of their own
medicine, they jump on us with both feet.

C.P. 4: Say man, what you saying, it's alright to
push that shit? (Everyone sits up attentively.)

WRITER: (Looking at C.P. 4 with disgust.) Man,
why are you so dumb? I'm saying. Black folk ain't got
no money, and vou're always talking bout how
qualified you are to get some .... Then, how come
you're fooling around where there ain't nothing but
pennies? . . . like a . . , like a parasite. Why ain't you
out where the real money is? "Our own money!,"
stolen from us, our mamas and our wives, every time
we pay taxes, buy furniture, pay rent for them rat-
traps, or pay twice as much for something that has
half the quality they say it has .... I ain't saying
dealing death is right, but, if you're gonna do it
anyways, why put it on yourself? Put it back on the
same beast that put it on you.

C.P. 4: Aw man, I think you losing your mind. This
time must be getting to you.

WRITER: Man, why don't you wake up. Them
whiteys be coming down on the Black Community like
some kind of blood thirsty vultures .... They be
drinking us dry . . . y'know what we're like? We're like
an apple tree . . . everytime we come up with
something . . . some new apples . . . they run in and rip
them off. (They start laughing, WRITER looks at
them angrily.) Man, I'm serious. Name me anything
somebody Black came up with, and I'll show you
where whitey co-opted it ... . The vice-president is
talking bout "getting down to the nitty gritty". . .
(They break out with a wave of laughter.) ... I don't
dig Jimmie James' intentions, but, I support the act. .
. . It's about time we started going out in them suburbs

getting some of our apples back. . . .

C.P. 4 : Shit man, with the time them lames is gonna
get, they can keep them fucking apples. (The others
laugh and nod their heads in agreement.)

WRITER: And you ain't doing big time now, fool?
You ain't doing nothing but life, on the "installment
Plan."

C.P. 4: Shit, it's better than doing it straight across
the board like you . . . You ain't never gonna leave this
place .... You ain't got no hope.

WRITER: All I got to do is make a deal with the
devil and I'll be as good as out! Now ain't that a bitch,
here it is the twentieth century, and we're still selling
our souls to the devil.' (GUARD walks back on from
stage right.)

GUARD: All right, let's keep the noise down.

C.P. 3: Com'on, let's finish the game. (WRITER
goes into cell four. GUARD proceeds offstage left. He
bumps into ALTON, who is returning to the tier.)

GUARD: You got a pass, Shannon? (ALTON shows
him his pass and is ready to leave.) And watch where
you're going next time.

ALTON: Man, fuck you! (ALTON walks on.
GUARD writes something on a piece of paper, then
disappears.)

C.P. 2: Say, homeboy, where you been?

ALTON : I been to the mountain, and saw me some
streets .... I'm leaving this rat-hole .... Not next
week, tomorrow, or today, but yesterday. CEverybody
becomes alive with excitement.) Yeah man, my lease
done expired, and I'm overdue tjy a day. My case was
overturned in court and I'm a free man .... I got to get
my things together. (ALTON hurries into cell seven,
comes out with a box of miscellaneous items and a
radio. He walks down the tier to the drummer, who
has stopped beating on the box, and gives him the
radio.) It has a hard time getting A.M. when it's
raining, but otherwise it's in pretty good shape.

DRUMMER: Solid man, be cool. You almost didn't
make it this time.

ALTON: Yeah, Kappie, I know, but I ain't worried. I
still have some cash left over from my last score. It
ain't much, but it'll help me get over the hump. It's
them first few months. If I can make 'em, I'll be okay.

KAPPIE: You gonna say good-bye to Kitu?

ALTON: Naw man, Kitu said that he's doing too
much time to be saying any good-byes ....

KAPPIE: I can dig it.

ALTON: Tell him, I'll send him in some writing
material and try to stay in touch with him .... You
take care of yourself. (Turns to CARDPLAYERS, who
have resumed their game.) I'm gonna miss ya'll,
y'know that?

C.P. 4: Yeah, home, we gonna miss you too.

C.P. 1: Say man, if you see my brother out there,
you tell him that the state don't pay but every three
months, and ask him what he's gonna do. (C.P. 2 and
C.P. 4 are discussing something ; they end their short
conversation with a handshake.)

ALTON : I don't plan to be on any of them sets, but if
I see him, I'll run it. (He shakes hands with everyone,
then exits stage left. GUARD returns, shouting.)

GUARD : All right, let's get this show on the road . . .
Com'on, let's go. (He stands and watches as each man
enters his cell, comes out with a box. and moves down

one cell, all except for KITU in cell four. When the
others have moved, they return to the tier and to what
they were doing. A NEW MAN enters from stage left
and moves into cell one.)

(Light recedes into blackness, then rises again.
NEW MAN comes out of his cell, walks over to the
card game. KAPPIE nods his head to the MAN as he
passes by. It is three months later.)

C.P. 4 : Say, my man, what you bring with you?

NEW MAN: 10 to 15, armed robbery.

C.P. 2: You a veteran, or isihis your first?

N.M.: Naw, I got some time in down south .... A
couple of small ones on the coast, and on the island.

C.P. 4: Damn man, then you should feel right at
home. (C.P. 2 is looking into C.P. 1 's hand again.)

C.P. 1: Hey sucker! There you go again, looking in
my muthafucking hand.

C.P. 2: Shit, as bad as you play, what I got to look in
your hand for? You just waiting to give up the game
anyways. Youse a freak for losing. (KITU comes out
of his cell, walks over to where NEW MAN is stan-
ding.)

C.P. 3: (Noticing KITU'S arrival.) Com'on man,
play cards.

KITU: All you stiffs are freaks for losing. Somehow,
we been faked out to think we' winning. . . .

C.P. 4: (Ignoring him.) Say man, I heard they
caught Baby Love, backing out a bank with two of his
whores. Say they wasn't bring in no cash pounding the
bricks, and Baby Love couldn't support his habit.
(KITU and NEW MAN go into conversation between
themselves.)

C.P. 2: I don't believe that shit. Junkies don't be
robbing no banks .... They be too busy nodding, plus
they ain't got the heart.

C.P. 4: Well that's what the wires say.

C.P. 3: Probably one of the bitches talked him up on
it.

C.P. 2: Yeah, he was probably half in a nod and
thought they was taking him to the pusher. Ha ha ha
ha.

C.P. 4: Hope the muthafucker got some pussy before
he did it, cause it's gonna be a long time 'fore he cop
some more. (Everybody breaks out into laughter,
which is cut off by a loud scream coming from one of
the other tiers.)

VOICE: A-A-A-A-A-G-G-G-H-H-H-, lemme out the
fucking place, oh god, God, God, fuck you too, you
don't care either. Don't nobody care. Don't nobody
care .... Git away from here .... Git away from me . .
. . (Sounds of a struggle.) Help!! . . . A-A-A-A-G-G-G-
G-H-H-H .... Don't nobody give a damn . . . Don't
nobody give a danin!!!! (Voice fades out, everyone
has stopped what they were doing; they are looking at
each other; KAPPIE begins drumming on box again.)

C.P. 4: Hey sucker, why don't you give it a break,
huh? (KAPPIE ignores him, continues to play louder.
C.P. 4 starts for KAPPIE, but 3 and 2 grab him.)

C.P. 2: Be cool man 'fore they be taking you out of
here too. (The three go into cell six.)

NEW MAN: (Loofes at C.P. 1.) What do you think
they gonna do with him? (Pointing in the direction of
voice.)

C.P. 1: He's going to the /unny /arm .... It ain't
nothing, dudes be going off their tree all the time.

Like, you gonna learn, that there ain't but three ways
out of this joint . . . either you is dragged out like him
(Points in direction of voice.) or you can walk out, like
Im'ma do, or you is carried out like Ole Jake.

KITU: (Had been writing, now puts down pen and
papers, then walks over to where the others are
standing.) Yeah, Ole Jake had been down all his life . .
. from the time he was nine years old ... . That's when
the State sentenced him to life on "The Installment
Plan" .... He never stayed out more than six months
at a time. Finally he caught one big one and died here .
. . he was 65 then. All his folks were dead, so they
buried him outside the wall in a little plot of land, kept
just for that purpose. Didn't nobody care, just another
nigger the State didn't have to support, anymore.

KAPPIE: (Stops his drumming and joins the
group.) Yeah man, don't nobody care. You can rot in
here. Only thing people there in society care about is,
they ain't got to deal with you anymore. They don't
care about what happens once you in here. Sometimes
I be wishing everyone of their women was raped,
everyone of their men was offed, and everyone of their
children got a heroin habit ....

C.P. 1: (Chuckles to himself.) Man, wouldn't that be
a bitch?

KAPPIE : Sometimes I'm really bitter, like now, but
the reality of the situation makes you that way. ... Do
you know why I'm here? Huh? They snatched me up
for playing my drums. (NEW MAN looks at him in-
credulously.) Yeah, they P.V.ed me cause it looked
like I was gonna make it.

NEW MAN: You mean all you did was play drums,
and they pulled your papers?

KAPPIE: Damn right. Said I was violating my
parole by being in an unconducive atmosphere. I tried
to tell them suckas, that I been playing drums all my
life. . . . since I was four. . . . Man, that's all I know.

KITU: The parole system is full of shit! It's like
letting a horse out to exercise. . . when you think he's
been out long enough, you put him back under lock and
key. . . irregardless of whether the horse wants to be
locked back up again. . . . You are the master!!!!
Naw, they don't give a damn about a man at all. I
know, I've been down twelve years and I've seen a lot.

NEWMAN: Twelve years??.'.'.'.' Who'd you kill, the
president's cousin??

KITU: Naw man, it happened when I believed in
amerikkkan justice, and the righteousness of the
beast. I got high one night. . . I was going with this ole
white girl at the time, we got to beefing and I knocked
her in the jaw. . . she pressed charges and I ended up
with assault with intent to rape, assault with intent to
murder, intent to rob, and assault and battery. . . .

NEW MAN: Boy, my daddy always said, "Son, a
white woman ain't shit, she's out for pleasure, and
when it is over, so ain't you. " But I can understand the
bullshit charges they put you through. . . but most of
the time. . . you end up doing only part of the time. . . .
How come you been down so long??

KAPPIE: (Cutting off what KITU was about to
say.) Cuz the brother got a lot to go with, and them
pigs don't dig that at all. They say he ain't leaving til
he break — like everyone else, and he ain't
breaking! ! ! !

C.P. 1: And he's dangerous to be around, they'll be
thinking that you are like him. Com'on, let's check out
what them guys is up to. (C.P. 1 and NEW MAN leave,
KAPPIE and KITU watch them go.)

KAPPIE: Well, there goes another one.

KITU: I don't know, he listened, and that's the first
step. I remember when you first came in. That was the
first thing that set you away from the others. . . .

KAPPIE: Yeah, well you have more faith than I do.

KITU : Or maybe I'm just a little better at disguising
my despair. (KAPPIE nods his head in agreement.)

KAPPIE: Yeah, maybe you are. (They fall into
silence.) You heard anything new on Alton?

KITU: Naw, last I heard, he was having a pretty
hard time.

KAPPIE: That's what I heard too. (Pause.) Do you
think he'll make it?

KITU : I don't know, he's been out about four months
now. ... If he can make it past the six month point,
he's got a good chance. But that's the hardest point.
(Uniformed GUARD enters from stage left with
brown paper bag. He enters cell six, when he comes
back out his hands are empty. He proceeds off stage
right, sneering at KITU and KAPPIE as he goes. They
shake their heads in frustration.) Say, did you hear
anything 'bout one of those Black Centers being raided
by the pigs?

KAPPIE: Yeah, they say it was full of women and
children when it happened.

KITU: When are we gonna wake up? I mean to the
point where we will do something. . . . (C.P. 4 comes
out of cell six scratching.)

C.P. 4: Say man, ya'll ought to cop. . . . Oh, that's
right, ya'll don't be messing with no stuff. (Sits down
on one of the buckets.) Y'know, this bid wouldn't be all
that bad if we could stay high all the time. . . . Yeah. . .

(Goes off into a nod.)

KITU: Look at him! We's freaks for losing. (Kicks
at the air.) Man, if we would only open our eyes and
just (oote. . . . (Shakes his head in despair.) I'm tired
brother. . . I been down too long and I got battle scars
all over my soul. ... I be just watching as these
brothers be popping in and out. It's like watching the
same old movie over and over, 'cept the cast is always
changing. . . . (Shakes his head as if to clear it.) I feel
strange, like something deep inside of me is saying
I'm not gonna make it.

KAPPIE: Aw man, don't worry 'bout it. If any-
body's gonna make it, you will. . . . (Voice blares out
over the loud speaker.)

VOICE: Ronald Seller! Ronald Seller! report to the
H.M.I.C, Ronald Seller! Ronald Seller! report to the
H.M.I.C. (C.P. 3 comes out of cell and goes off stage
left.)

KITU: (Shaking his head in despair, his hands are
beginning to tremble.) The same ole same ole time
and time again. . . . Man. . . . Man. . . .

KAPPIE: Com'on, Kitu, get yourself together man.
. . Don't let them get you too. (KAPPIE puts his arm
around KITU'S shoulder.)

KITU: (Seemingly oblivious.) If I could just be out
there one more time. . . . Man, do you know what I
would do for a home-cooked meal. . . My mother died
after I was down seven. . . . (He begins shaking uncon-
trollably.)

KAPPIE: I think you better lay down awhile. . . .
You need some rest. (KAPPIE takes KITU into cell
four, then comes out and goes into cell three. A long
scream is heard from cell four. KAPPIE rushes back.
The screams continue. KAPPIE'S voice can be heard
between screams.)

KAPPIE: Com'on man, you'll be all right. . . . You
strong. . . . the baddest brother in the joint. . . . com'on
Kitu, they can't break you. . . com'on now. . . . (One
exceptionally long and loud scream is heard. Lights
fade to darkness.)

Curtain

Scene 2

(Curtains open. Lights come up on street scene.
There are four buildings standing next to each other,
between the first two is an alleyway. The first building
is a run-down, three story tenement with a large rat on
the second floor window sill. There is a pusher stan-
ding in front. The second building is a modern high-
rise building; there are two neatly dressed brothers
with papers under their arms; they are in con-
versation with each other. The third building is a night
club with a large sign over the entrance that reads
"Shilte Lounge". There is a man, extravagantly
dressed, with two tall and very beautiful black
women, one is wearing a mini and the other hot pants.
The woman in hot pants hugs the man as he receives
money from the other niini-skirted woman; she puts a
lump of bills in his hand, he looks at them, slaps her in
the face and puts his hand back out again; she digs
down along the waist of her skirt and produces more;
they all walk into the lounge. The last building is a
store front with a large sign that reads "Uhuru
House". A Black woman enters from stage left; she is
adorned in African dress. She enters the building.
Lights fade out into darkness and rise on the three
story tenement. A junkie has come out of the alley-
way; he is shabbily dressed. He walks over to the
pusher and is copping, when a uniformed Pig walks
by, purposefully looking in the other direction. The
junkie cops, then goes off through the alleyway.
ALTON is seen entering from stage right wearing
work clothes and carrying a lunch pail. A young Black
man comes out behind him, calling his name. It is
GERALD, ALTON'S brother-in-law.)

GERALD: Al, hey, Al. (ALTON stops, looks back
and waits for him to catch up.) Say man, when d'you
get out?

ALTON: Been out 'bout two months now, beat them
on a tech.

GERALD: (Enthusiasm evident in his voice.) Shit
man, you home free then, no strings attached. What
you planning on doing? (Continues on before ALTON
can answer.) I see your man around a lot. He's doing
gooder than a muthafucka. . . got him a few whores
y'know, and they taking good care of him.

ALTON: (Showing surprise and disbelief.) Who you
talking 'bout, Dee???

GERALD: Hell yeah! He's killing them. Got money
coming in all kinds of ways. (ALTON shakes his head
in disgust.) Dig it, Al, I know you don't dig no woman
making your money for you, and I was thinking, since

your main man done went and changed up on you. . .
y'know. . . if you need a partner, I got some joints lined
up; maybe me and you can get down together,
y'know?

ALTON: Naw, Gerry, Im'ma try to straighten up,
y'know. . . (He lifts lunch pail, GERALD looks at it
disdainfully.) Besides your sister would never get off
my case, if I brought you out. . . (Pause.) Ain't you
suppose to be in school? (GERALD looks down at the
ground.)

GERALD: I quit school. They don't wanna teach
nothing anyways. They use to pay me to take the day
off and go to the movies. Now I done out-grown movies
and school. (He looks back up at ALTON, life returns
to his voice.) Anyway, damn it, you ain't got to let
Jessi know. Com'on, Al, these is big money money
joints. (They begin walking, PUSHER steps over in
front of them; he has jewery all over and is in all
pink.)
GERALD: Say, Choker, what's going down?
CHOKER: (Flashing money.) It's coming in good,
baby. Wanna cop?
GERALD: What'cha got?

CHOKER: Smoke, bombers, coke, hashish, and the
big one, and I don't mean Bud. . . (Both break out in
laughter.)

ALTON: He don't want nothing, so keep stepping.
(ALTON goes to walk on, but CHOKER steps into his
path.)

CHOKER: Say, don't I know you from somewhere?
(Pause.) Yeah, you did some for the State, right?. . .
right, I remember you. . . was real evil, didn't fuck
with nobody and didn't let no-one fuck with you.

ALTON: I see you ain't learned nothing from your
stay. . . .

CHOKER: (Looking ALTON over.) Course I
learned something; I come out knowing how to get to
the money twice as fast. . . . (Looking at ALTON'S
attire.) You the one look like you ain't learned nothing.
ALTON: I learned to respect myself and my people.
. . . And I supporting nobody's death trip. . . youse a
parasite, living off your own people's misery. ... A
foul, low-lifed bloodsucka! ! ! ! ! ! !

CHOKER: Watch your mouth, sucka. . . .(Smiles.)
Besides, if I wasn't doing it someone else would. Shit,
it ain't like I'm forcing them fools to shoot that shit,
they wanna do it, and I wanna live right. You can say
we have sort of an agreement. I take care of their
Jones and they take care of mine. Here comes one of
my business associates now. . . . (Another JUNKIE
has come on stage from the alleyway. There is a short
rap; then CHOKER is on the JUNKIE, shaking him.
ALTON drops his lunch pail and grabs CHOKER,
pushes him away, and goes to help JUNKIE up.
GERALD looks on incredulously. CHOKER is on
ALTON, he turns, hits CHOKER in stomach,
CHOKER falls and curls up. JUNKIE looks down at
CHOKER then up to ALTON, says in a whining tone:)
JUNKIE: Damn man, why you wanna do that? The
dude would have straightened me out when it was all
over, shit, now I might not cop. (ALTON puts his hand
on JUNKIE'S shoulder, is about to speak. JUNKIE
pulls away.) Git your hands off me, muthafucka, you
done made me blow! (ALTON goes into CHOKER'S
pockets and comes out with a handful of small

packets; he gives them to JUNKIE who rushes off
through the alleyway.)

GERALD: Ga'damn! Al, what they done did to you
in that place? You know that's bad business. Why you
come down on that dude like that? Everybody got to
make a living, you can't knock a man for that. Wait
till you out here a little longer, you'll see. . . .

ALTON: Listen, Gerry, I said I'm going straight!
Now if you got any sense you'd get your ass back in
school and try to get out of this rat trap! ! !

GERALD: Fuck school and fuck you too. . . . Stiff. . .
I use to look up to you, thought you was really
something big. Know what I think? I think you lost
your heart. . . I think you left it back there behind them
walls. (GERALD turns and goes off the way he came
on. ALTON looks after him, then he picks up his pail
and proceeds on. Lights dim on tenement and rise on
the modern high-rise. ALTON is confronted by two
BROTHERS selling papers.)

1ST BRO: Excuse me, brother, buy a copy of our
latest edition? (ALTON stops, looks down at papers,
then up at the BROTHERS, goes into his pocket and
comes out with some change.)
ALTON: How much is it?

1ST BRO.: Twenty-five cents, sir. (ALTON looks
up at the BROTHER strangely, sorts out the right
change and gives it to him. He is about to move on,
when the BROTHER interrupts his departure.)

1ST BRO.: Excuse me, brother, would you be in-
terested in attending one of our meetings?
ALTON: When are they?

2ND BRO. : Monday and Tuesday evenings, brother.
ALTON: Hmmmm, I don't know. . . don't get much
free time these days. (Uniformed COP returns,
walks over to where ALTON and the BROTHERS
are standing.)
COP: All right, keep it moving, no loitering.
ALTON: (To the BROTHERS as he is moving on.)
Listen, if I'm in the area I may check it out. (ALTON
moves on. Lights slowly dim on high-rise and come up
on lounge.)

2ND BRO. : You didn't get the address. (ALTON has
moved on to the next set; he is looking behind him and
bumps into a tall Black WOMAN in mini.)

ALTON: Oh, excuse me. (He looks her up and down.
She is a nice looking woman, youngish looking. She
looks ALTON up and down, smiling. She is a
prostitute. There is music coming out of the lounge
behind them.)

WOMAN: Think nothing of it, honey. My name is
Holly.

ALTON: Yeah, nice to meet you. (He goes to walk
around her but she steps into his path.)

HOLLY: Where you rushing to? Don't you want to
talk to me? (MAN comes out of the lounge wearing a
green wide- brim hat, white and green knit slacks,
white shoes, and has rings on all his fingers; he is
wearing dark shades.)

MAN: Better move on. Baby, ain't nothing there.
My man has a strong dislike for whores. (He makes a
motion with his head for her to leave. She walks down
to alleyway and disappears. . . . MAN looks at ALTON,
looks him up and down, shakes his head.) Damn, man,
what happened to you? How long you been out?
ALTON: I should be asking you that. What hap-

pened to the big money you was gonna send me when
you spht? (Cuts him off before he answers.) Never
mind, I don't even wanna hear it. Youse a jive M. F,
you know that, don't you?

DEE : Aw, Al. I was gonna send it. I was.

ALTON: (Ignoring his remark.) I heard you done
started pimping. Was she yours? (Points in direction
HOLLY went.)

DEE: (Pushing out his chest.) Yep! Had her five
months now. (A tall and very beautiful Black WOMAN
comes out of the lounge. She has a large Afro, is
wearing a white short-sleeved sweater-blouse, red and
blue hot pants, and high tie-up white sandals. She
walks over to DEE, reaches into her purse and gives
him a handful of crumpled bills, is about to leave but
DEE grabs her arm.) Stick around, bitch! I want you
to meet my Main Man. (Looks at ALTON.) This is
Susanne, been with me 'bout a year now. Biggest
money-maker in town.

ALTON : Man, you done really sunk low. . . .

DEE: (Look of amazement on his face.) Say man,
didn't you hear me? I said they's the baddest bitches
in town. . . on the whole coast. . . Can't nothing with a
hole bring in as much as they can. . . . What you
talking 'bout I sunk

ALTON: I'm talking 'bout your respect, fool! She's
a woman, not a horse or some slab of beef, sold to the
highest bidder. . . . You didn't do the time I did. . . But
let me tell you something. While I was in the joint, I
had a chance to find out what a woman can really

mean Man, like, she becomes gold. (ALTON is in

a trance-like stare, engrossed in his own words and
thoughts. Meanwhile DEE has sent SUSANNE back
into the lounge for cigarettes : he looks back at ALTON
who is still rapping.)U you ain't got a friend in the
joint, it don't make no difference, as long as you got a
good woman. . . . Everytime she write, telling you how
much she love you, it makes you feel like you can take
on every screw in the joint. You ain't got to come out
no funny bag on her, you can be yourself, . . .
(SUSANNE returns with cigarettes. She opens the
pack, places one in DEE'S mouth, then lights it, and
puts the pack into his coat pocket. DEE is considering
ALTON who is now finishing up his rap. ) . . . and when
she comes up to visit, and she has the kids with her,
you be feeling like there ain't nobody out in that
visiting room as happy as you. (He smiles to himself.)

DEE: Al, I know Jessi, and she's a dynamite bit. . .
woman. But, most these bitches ain't like that. Like,
take Susanne for example, if I was to pull some time,
she'd be in another nigger's bed, before the State had a
chance to re-outfit me. . . .

SUSANNE: (Wrapping her arm around his waist.)
Daddy, I wouldn't do that.

DEE: Shut-up bitch! But, anyways, that's the way
things go out here. . . cop and blow. . . Today you got
it, maybe tomorrow you don't, but if you got anything
on the ball, you can always cop again.

ALTON: Yeah man, but if you treat a woman like a
dog, she gonna start acting like one.

DEE : Man, you can't let up on them for a minute, or
you is liable to blow. . . . You have to keep the pressure
on. Hey man, how else am I gonna survive out here, I
need money, and I ain't gonna pull no slave time for
whitey in some sweat shop. How I'm gonna keep by

Rado, or my wardrobe? (He looks at ALTON'S clothes
and shakes his head from side to side, then looks down
at his own and smiles.) All this takes money to keep
up. . . you know that, man.

ALTON: Dee, you know that ain't the only way to
get next to some cash, plus half the shit you be
spending it on ain't even worth it. . . (Looks DEE in
the eye. ) You ever think of saving some of it?

DEE: (Incredulously.) For what?! What I want, I
need now, not tomorrow, next year or ten years from
now. I wants my money quick, fast and in a hurry-up,
and I got me two of the baddest bitches in town to get
it for me. (Puts his arm around SUSANNE.)

ALTON: That's another thing. ... I remember when
we was running up in them joints, how we swore never
to depend on no milk-toaters for our money, cause that
was a faggot's way of getting it.

DEE : Yeah, well I did some deep thinking and found
out what a fool I was.

ALTON: How much of a fool you was????

DEE : Yeah, man, the thing is, to get to the money.
Damn how you do it. Just get it.

ALTON: (Shakes his head in frustration.) Damn,
man, brothers is changing up all cross country. . . .

DEE : Wait a minute, Al, I don't wanna hear none of
that Black bullshit, cause them niggers ain't doing
nothing. Got them young ladies down there
freefucking! !

ALTON: Is that suppose to justify what you're
doing? You hiding behind something as flaky as
that?? Man, you're really down to rock bottom.

DEE : Say man, in this life you do what you got to do.
(HOLLY returns, gives DEE some money. He looks at
it, counts it and looks back at her, slaps her across the
face, then puts his hand back out. HOLLY reaches into
her blouse and comes out with a few more dollars.
DEE counts it, nods his head in satisfaction.
Uniformed COP walks by, noticing nothing. Both
WOMEN walk into the lounge. DEE turns back to
ALTON who is looking on in disgust. He shruggs his
shoulders and begins to rap again.) Did you know that
Slow Willy is back on the bricks? (ALTON shakes his
head no and mumbles something under his breath.)

DEE: What?

ALTON: Nothing. I locked on the same tier with
him. All he did was play cards all day. What's he
doing?

DEE : Little bit of everything. Got a after hour joint
over on Suffolk St., does some dealing for the
gangsters and has a couple of whores on the side. Got a
light Jones too.

ALTON: He'll be going back. (Silence for a few
seconds; ALTON looks at his watch.) Listen man, I
got to split else I'm gonna get fired. I'll catch you
around. . . and think about what I said.

DEE : And here's something for you to think about. .
. . There's plenty of bitches out here, just waiting to
cock their legs and bring daddy some scratch, and
they ain't no dog bitches either, they's sho'nuff /oxes.
Now when that eight hour grind gets to grinding at
your ass, you think about that, cause the money is big
and easy and I know you qualified to make the most of
it. (He turns and begins to walk towards the lounge,
hollering back over his shoulder.) Like the "Tempts"
say: "Think about it, Think about it. Think about it."

(ALTON watches him till he disappears into the
lounge. Lights begin to fade out slowly on lounge and
come up on store front. There is a group of Black
people coming out of the store front all dressed in
African garb. ALTON turns and looks in their
direction. He begins walking towards them. They are
chanting, "Uhuru Sasa au vita", over and over. One
tall man, wearing a multicolored fez and a full length
African robe walks up to ALTON, gives Black hand-
shake. He is JOMO.)

JOMO: Jambo ndugu, my name is Jomo, Jomo
Mau. (He points to the others. There are three women
and two men, one who is wearing black leather jacket,
black shirt and pants. He is leaning against the
building, watching, as the sisters practice an African
dance step.) That's Sundiata Chaka, (Points at the
other brother, dressed in a dashiki and slacks. He has
a bald head.) and the sisters are Omawale, Hasani,
and Xionara. We run this place here. (Points at
building and notices brother standing there.) Oh!
that's our Antagonist Non-Solutionist, Bobby Lee
Johnson. (BOBBY LEE hollers over.)

BOBBY LEE: If you got any sense man, you'll keep
stepping, 'fore they launch you off to dream land,
along with them.

JOMO: (Smiles.) Bobby's a demolition expert. He
could level this country in no time, but he can't think of
anything to put in its place once he's through. Per-
sonally, I think he feels something for us and what
we're about, cause he is here every day. I think deep
inside he knows the necessity of educating our people
first.

SUNDIATA: And that's what we're about, "Putting
something in our peoples' heads so, they may build as
well as destroy. Build for self!"

JOMO: That's why we have this place here. This is
our Freedom House, our freedom school, where Black
children and adults may come and get their heads
together; it's a community center, where Black folk
can "be" together. The whole emphasis is placed on
"Pamoja" which is togetherness. (One of the sisters
leaves the group dancing, and comes over to where the
men are speaking.)

HASANl: Jambo wadugu!

JOMO AND SUNDIATA.- (Together.) Jambo, Dada
yangu !

ALTON: Hi!

HASANl: (Looking at ALTON, smiling warmly.) Do
you have children, Ndugu?

ALTON: Yes, two sons.

JOMO: Ahhhh, two warriors. . . Simba . . . That's
where our futures lie. In them, is our future liberation.
. . the liberation of the nation, our nation. We must
prepare the way by providing them with the proper
education and skills. Sister Hasani, here, has charge
of our nursery section. Children are very important in
our struggle. Even Choker, down the street, doesn't
want his son to push drugs for a living.

ALTON: Hupph! He doesn't present too good of an
example.

BOBBY LEE: (Who has walked over to where they
are standing.) Somebody ought to make him an
example. . . . Like blow his head off. . . . We been
plagued with dumb niggers long enough. . . You can't
be nodding on the battlefield, in a time of war. We been

sleep long enough. . . that nigger is useless.

SUNDIATA: Well, maybe he's right, this time, but,
we got enough with whitey killing us off. . . ain't no
need to give them no help.

JOMO: Listen, brother, why don't you bring your
simbas down here, and maybe stop in yourself. We
don't claim that what we have is the thing, but it is an
alternative to the other mess that isn't getting any-
body anywhere.

ALTON: I might, it sounds pretty good; but I doubt
if I could make it too often, like, I'm a working man
now. (Holds up pail.)

JOMO: Yeah, I been digging.

ALTON : Just got out the joint, a couple months ago,
been trying to make it out here legit, y'know?
(SUNDIATA, BOBBY LEE and HASANl have
returned to the other group. BOBBY and SUNDIATA
watch on as HASANl is shown the new dance.)

JOMO: It ain't easy, brother; I've seen a lot of
brothers come out, and not make it. They find that
without any skills or education, they get the dregs of
employment. And if they have a family to support, it's
really hell.

ALTON: Yeah, I'm so hip.

JOMO: Listen, brother, if you ever need any assis-
tance, just drop on by. That's what we're here for.

ALTON: Solid, I'll remember that. . . uh. . . .

JOMO: Jomo, Jomo Mau.

ALTON: Jomo. (He smiles, waves good-bye to the
others, and is moving on, when uniformed COP
returns. ALTON goes off stage left. COP stops at the
group, says something and gets into a big argument.
All the BROTHERS and SISTERS have surrounded
him. Lights dim, then fade to blackness.)

Curtain

Scene 3

(Curtains open. Lights come up on living room
scene. There is a modern Jiving room set — a couch,
one reclining chair, and another — there is a stereo hi-
fi, a dining table, and two pole lamps. There is a win-
dow directly center up stage. Beneath the window is
the couch, on either side, the pole lamps. At stage
right there are two doors, in between the doors is a
chair, beside it is a small night table with a telephone.
At stage left there is one door; beside it, coming down
stage is the recliner, then the stereo hi-fi. At center
stage sits the dining table and four straight-backed
chairs. Over the couch, on either side of the window is
a large picture of Malcolm and one of Garvey. Over
the hi-fi is a large African shield crossed by two
spears. The lights lower. There is jazz on the stereo. A
knock at the door, stage left. A medium-height Black
WOMAN with natural hair, rushes from door directly
across from it. ALTON enters wearing work clothes
and carrying lunch pail, has newspaper under his
arm. He grabs the WOMAN and gives her a long kiss;
then falls down into recliner.)

JESSICA: What was all that about?

ALTON : Because, the colder it gets out there, the
more I enjoy coming home to you.

JESSI: Yeah, well I wish you would remove your
home-loving behind out of my recliner till you put on

some decent clothes.

ALTON : Queen Mother of Black Gold, your slightest
wish I humbly obey. (He bows low with a sweeping
arm gesture.)

JESSI: No, my lord and master, it is I who submit
totally to your strength and wisdom. O King of Kings.
Warrior of the Universe. Unconquerable Black Man.
(ALTON stands and stretches his arms out to her.)

ALTON : Ours is a love of shared rewards. ... My
queen !

JESSI: My king! (They embrace and ALTON
kisses her in a pecking manner; they separate laugh-
ing.)

ALTON: (Pickinguppail from the floor.) Where are

the kids?

JESSI: Out in the yard, playing. Oh! That man,
Jomo Mau, was by here again today. (ALTON goes
through door leading to the bedroom. JESSICA goes
back to the kitchen.)

ALTON: (From the bedroom.) Yeah, what'd he
want? You'd think he'd be ashamed to show his face
around here again, after what he did.

JESSI : All he said was, he had to speak to you, and
he would be back later.

ALTON : Well, I got some things I want to say to him
anyways. Any mail today?

JESSI: I was hoping you would ask. . . . Just some
heavy bills. Seems like no sooner do you pay them,
then they asking for more. (ALTON enters the living
room again, has changed work clothes for inexpensive
shirt and slacks. Crosses over to the recliner and picks
up bills and begins reading them. He shows signs of
becoming more depressed with each one he reads. The
telephone rings. ALTON gets up to answer it.)

ALTON: Hello? (Looks around the room appre-
hensively.) What'd I tell you bout calling me here,
what if Jessi had answered? I don't care what you got,
I got problems too. . . .

JESSI: (From the other room.) Who's that. Honey?

ALTON: (Reflexively hiding the phone.) Nobody,
Baby, just some wise guy. (Back into the phone.) ....

Dig it man, I'll see you tomorrow tomorrow!

Damn it!! (Slams phone down, and just stands.
Children can be heard playing. There is a knock at the
door. ALTON walks over and opens it to JOMO and a
tall Black WOMAN in full-length African dress. She
has her hair wrapped. JOMO is wearing Dashiki and
slacks.)

JOMO: Jambo ndugu! (ALTON, anger evident on
his face, doesn't reply.) Well, aren't you going to let us
in? (ALTON steps aside and they both enter.)

ALTON: (Closing the door behind them.) You know,
I ought to knock you in that fool head of yours.

WOMAN: Excuse me, ndugu, is your wife home?

ALTON: (Pointing to the kitchen door.) Right
through that door there. (ALTON watches as she
goes.)

JOMO: (Who is taking a seat at the table.) She's my
priestess, Isis. Named after one of the Egyptian God-
desses. . . . There are very few more dedicated than
she is. . . . Dedicated to me, our children and our
people. . . .

ALTON : Was she there when the place was raided. .
were your kids there. . . were youthere?

JOMO: Come here, brother, sit down and let me

explain something to you. (ALTON comes over, seats
himself, and JOMO continues.) Now first off, no, my
young ones were not there, nor was my wife. I was.'. . .
. Okay now, I can understand your anger, you thought
your young warriors would be safe, which they were. .
. . (ALTON tries to say something.) Wait a minute,
wait a minute. . . I just want to get this straight. . . .

ALTON: Straight my ass, what about that damn
arsenal you people. . . .

JOMO: Brother, you can't be believing all that junk
them white folks be running 'bout us. They didn't find
nothing but a .22 rifle and some .38 bullets. Man, you
know they don't want to see Black folks making any
kind of positive steps. They down on us cuz, we for
real!

ALTON: (Jumping up and walking over to the
window.) But man, don't you know I lost my job
behind that shit??

JOMO: How am I suppose to know? You haven't
been around since it happened. I been by here twice,
and your woman hasn't said anything about it.

ALTON: That's because she doesn't know, yet.

JOMO: How are you making it? (Looking
inquisitively.)

ALTON: Lm making it.

JOMO: (Rising out of his chair.) Listen, if there is
anything I can do. . . .

ALTON: (Wheeling around.) I said I'm making it!. .
. . Now I don't need any- of your help, the welfare's
help, or. . . .

JOMO: Brother, I'm not talking about pity, ap-
parently you think I am. I'm talking 'bout com-
munalism. . . . brotherhood!

ALTON: It's all the same. Besides, it was your, so-
called, brotherhood that got me in the jam I'm in now.
(Sits in recliner looking at the ceiling.)

JOMO : Brother, you got an attitude, and you're not
thinking. (Walks over and stands over ALTON.) We
about blackness and getting all our people in a position
where they can do for themselves. Only way we can
succeed, is by helping each other. Now if you need
some assistance. . . .

ALTON: (Jumping up out of the recliner.) Man, get
out. . . . get out my damn house! (JESSICA and ISIS
rush in from the kitchen.)

JESSI: Honey, what's the matter? (Stops in-be-
tween the two men looking from one to the other. ISIS
goes to JOMO'S side.) What is going on here?

ALTON : Nothing, Baby, my man here is just getting
ready to leave. (He opens the door and stands there.
JOMO sends ISIS through first and stops in front of
ALTON.)

JOMO: Brother, I can't figure you out. You're not
the same man I met three months ago. (He shakes his
head.) This is a vicious*world, and the man that tries
to make it on his own, is doomed to fall, somewhere
along the line. (Heads out the door.) I wish you all the
luck in the world, brother. (ALTON slams the door
behind him.)

JESSI: Honey, what's the matter? I've never seen
you blow up like that before. What did he say?

ALTON: It wasn't nothing.

JESSI: Nothing! ? Your hollering and screaming all
over the place, you throw them out of our house, and
say nothing is wrong. Al, you've been .acting strange

ever since that thing happened. Is there something
else, that you haven't told me about?

ALTON: Listen, Jessi. . . . (Phone rings; ALTON
rushes to pick it up.) It's your mother. (JESSICA
takes the phone and ALTON goes into the bedroom.)

JESSI: Hello, Ma. . . fine, fine. No, I didn't, what
about Gerald?. . . armed robbery?. . . when, who?. . .
Alton? Are you sure. Ma? I mean, he's doing so well on
his job, there isn't any need to. . . . fired? Oh no!. Yes,
Ma, I'll call you back. O.K., bye now. (JESSICA
stands there for a few seconds, turns to go into the
bedroom, then stops; ALTON is in the doorway; they
stand looking at each other, neither speaking.
JESSICA walks over to the table and sits. She puts her
head in her hands and begins to weep.) Why, Al? You
were doing so good. . . (ALTON walks over and puts
his arm on her shoulder.)

ALTON: I tried, Jessi, I really did. But they make it
so hard on you. Com'on, Baby, don't cry. (Tries to
wipe tears away with his hanky, but JESSI pulls
away; he puts hanky back in his pocket and sits across
from her.) Listen, Baby, just hear me out, O.K.? You
got to do that for me. (She nods her head, wiping tears
away with her hand.)

JESSI: All right, Al, I'll listen.

ALTON: First of all. Baby, I love you, more than a
junkie love his stuff, and I wouldn't hurt you or the
kids for nothing in the world. Now if you can't under-
stand and believe that, then there ain't no sense in me
going on.

JESSI: I believe you, Al.

ALTON : All right. . . . Now you remember when the
last of that money ran out, right? (Nods her head yes.)
Well, I told you then, that we had to get more money
than I was making on my job, if we was gonna survive.
Well, I was gonna try to get a raise from the boss, but,
before I got around to asking him, that incident
jumped off down at the Center.

JESSI: But what did that have to do with your job?

ALTON: Wait a minute. . . . Now, you know the kids
were in there. So, what happened was, them pigs
called my job, talking 'bout they wanna see me. They
ran the whole thing down to my Boss. He didn't know
that I was an exconvict, plus he don't dig Black folk,
too tuff. So when he found out about it, he fired me.

JESSI: When was that? Why didn't you tell me?

ALTON: Cause, Baby, that ain't the kind of thing I
want to come back and run to you, especially with
your mother constantly on your back, saying I ain't no
good, and I'm doomed to failure. (Bangs hand on the
table and walks over to the window, looks out and
begins pacing the floor. ) Anyways, I tried a lot of other
places and didn't come up with anything, so I got down
with your brother. . . . But I tried. Baby, I really did. I
didn't want to go back to the joint. ... All I wanted to
do, was be with you and the kids. Even that ain't easy
to do in this society.

JESSI: But if you had told me, I could have gotten
you a job in one of those agencies. . . .

ALTON: As whaf A janitor? I ain't got no half
decent education. Anyways, just the thought of my
woman getting me a gig messes with me inside.

JESSI: Listen, Al, I'm not going to run out and tell
the world about it. It's not too late. (She gets up from
the table, runs over to him, grabbing his arm. . . he

looks down at her sadly.)

ALTON : It is too late. Baby. (Pulls away and rushes
into the bedroom, returns with an old M-l rifle, stops,
looks at JESSI. CHILDREN are heard crying.)

CHILD 1: Mommy! Mommy! The devil is here. . . .

CHILD 2: They's not the devil, they's the pigs.
(There is a heavy fall of feet in the hallway. . . loud
banging at the door. . . a voice is heard.)

VOICE: Okay, Shannon, open the door, it's the
police. . . Com'on, we know you're in there. . . (Con-
tinuous banging.)

ALTON: (Looking at JESSICA.) Go get the boys.
(She hesitates.) Go on, damn it! (She rushes out
through the kitchen. The hall door is beginning to
shake on its hinges. ALTON checks the chamber of the
rifle. Lights begin to dim and fade out. A single shot is
heard, followed by a heavy barrage. A long scream
front a wonian. . . then silence.)

Curtain

Scene 4

(Curtains open. Lights come up on prison tier,
showing a man leaving. There is a guard shouting at
the others. "Let's get this show on the road". Each of
the men enters his cell and returns with boxes. They
all move down one cell. No one moves from cell four.
After they are finished, they return to the tier, all lean
on railing and rap. A new MAN enters cell one.)

BRO. 1: I think somebody was in my cell while we
was out exercising. I'm missing some socks.

BRO. 2: What! Some socks? Who the hell wants
some damn state socks. I been noticing that about you.
. . you always accusing someone of beating you out of
something. . . . And the thing that gets me is, you ain't
got nothing!

BRO. 1: Fuck you, Sucka. . . .

BRO. 3: Why don't ya'll freeze that shit. (Looks at
BRO. 2.) You beginning to sound like Clifford.

BRO. 2: Wait a minute, don't be comparing me with
that crazy fool. I'm trying to get out this muthafucka. .
. . (All break out in laughter except the two men in
front of cell one.)

BRO. 4: It ain't funny. Sometimes I get to believing
that shit he was running. . . . Shit, I'd like to do a little
fucking up in this country my damn self, but I know I
ain't in no position to be talking 'bout, not here. And I
don't dig the idea of the dude doing all that time. Hell!
I liked the man. But evidently he didn't like himself.
All he had to do was quit running his jibs so much, and
shit, he'd have been out this place in no time. . . . Shit,
naturally if I got you locked up and you talking 'bout
offing me, I'mma make sure you rot there. . . and the
dude wasn't supid or anything. That Black bullshit
couldn't get him nowhere, and never gonna get nobody
nowhere. . . . (Everyone drops into silence, each
engulfed in his own thoughts.)

BRO. 1: Say, remember that dude that use to be
reading all the time? What was his name now?
Gaddamn! .... It's right on the tip of my tongue. . . .
(Everyone is looking at him.) He went out about six
months ago. . . beat them on a tech. . . .

BRO. 4: Oh! You talking 'bout Alton, Alton Shannon.
. . . Was in for armed robbery. . . .

BRO. 1: Yeah, yeah. ... I saw him today. He's back
in with a new one. Shot it out with some pigs at his
crib. . . . say he downed three and wounded four.
BROS.: (All together.) Gaddamn! ! !
BRO. 4: Boy, ole homeboy wasn't jiving. Um, um,
um. (The two men standing at the end of the tier hurry
over to where the others are standing. One is KAPPIE
and the other is the new MAN.)

KAPPIE : What was that about Alton? What hap-
pened?

BRO. 1 : Say he downed some pigs at his crib. He got
kind of shot up himself. . . plus they put a hellfired ass
kicking on him at the station.

KAPPIE: What brought the pigs down on them in
the first palce?

BRO. 1: Remember all them banks that was getting
ripped off awhile back? (KAPPIE nods his head.)
Well, that was Alton and his brother-in-law. . . . Alton
got to doing bad, and went back to what he knew best.
BRO. 4: Yeah man, and he sho'nuff did it up right. I
Know he was getting big scratch. . . .
BRO. 3: How'd he get flagged?
BRO. 1: Oh, round the time he first got out, him and
Choker got into a beef. . . .
KAPPIE: Who you talking 'bout, the pusher?
BRO. 1 : Yeah. Alton wasn't one for pushing that shit
or pimping to tuff, so anyways, he got into this thing
with Choker and made a fool out him.
Choker got plenty salty behind it. Kept hollering 'bout
payback. . . .
BRO. 3 : Yeah, that sounds just like him too.
BRO. 1 : So he was squatting in Jackie's After-Hours
and Gerald. . . .
KAPPIE: Who's Gerald???

BRO. 1 : That's his wife's brother. A young dude, use
to deal for Choker. So Choker's squatting, and Gerald
comes in flashing, y'know?. . . . They must've just
finished taking the place off, cause Gerald was loaded
down. He got to drinking and smoking and running his
jibs. Choker got an earful and run to the man on them.
Well, they got Gerald with no problem, he was fuck-
up. .. . But Alton was at his crib, and when they came
to get him, he got his wife and kids out the back door
and commenced to set fire to their ass.

BRO. 2: Yeah, well it's gonna be a long, long time
'fore he get out this muthafucka again. . . . (Looks
around at BRO. 4.) Which reminds me, gimme my
money, sucka.
BRO. 4: Get the fuck out of here.
BRO. 2: Say man, come on now, get up my damn
scratch. You made the bet and lose. . . . (BRO. 4 looks
around at the others, they are all looking at him, he
looks down. BRO. 2 looks around at the others who are
looking at him, also.)

BRO. 2: Man, muthafuck you lames. I'd have put
odds on ya'll too.

BRO. 3: That's not putting odds, muthafucka, that's
a fucking jinx!!! Man, youse a low-lifed dog
muthafucka.
BRO. 2: Man, don't be running that bullshit to me.

Take it out and fertilize somebody's field. . . . Can't
none of you stiffs stay out a hot second and now you
gonna pretend you concerned. . . . Ya'll be offing each
other, beating each other, ratting on each and now you
gonna say something to me? Shhhhiiittt, tell it to that
sucka that got ya'll bobbing in and out this mutha-
fucka like a gaddamn yo-yo .... (Turns to BRO. 4.)
Get my money, nigger, six cartons. You know what
brand I smoke. (Goes into cell five. BRO. 4 goes into
cell seven, comes out with several cartons of cigar-
ettes, enters cell five. BROTHERS on the tier watch;
then 1 and 3 turn and lean on railing.)

BRO. 1 : They say Little Dash got raped over on nine
tier. ... I told him to stay away from so-called
heavies.. . . but! That dued is hard-headed.

BRO. 3: We all are at times. . . wonder what his
brothers gonna do when they hear bout it.
BRO. 1: What can they do bout it?
BRO. 3: Yeah, guess you're right. (KAPPIE and
new man head down the tier.)
NEW MAN: Boy, niggers is foul.
KAPPIE: It ain't the niggers, man, all they doing is
what they know best. It's this system, this society, and
them whiteys. They the ones that be forcing us into a
position where we got to be living like parasites.. . .
Look at that brother Alton. All he wanted to do was be
with his wife and kids. He didn't really care nothing
'bout how Black he was, or how many whiteys he
could get to say nice things about him. All he wanted to
do was to be left alone to raise a family and be com-
fortable. He had changed up or wanted to, but they
won't even let a man do that. Kitu use to say, "If we
can't help ourselves, then we in bad shape, cause ain't
nobody gonna help us." He really wanted to see us get
it together. He use to rap about taking brothers as they
came through and turning them around and sending
them back out there with something on their minds. . .
But dudes had to live too, and that's where the whole

thing fell through Everything is against us, courts,

police, employers, storeowners, landlords, city of-
ficials, and the majority of them is white. . . . And little
whitey is worse than them on top, cause he's
struggling too, and he's gonna block us at every turn.
To keep us from getting what he ain't got. ... So you
hit the streets and from there, you begin your down
payments on the Installment Plan. . . . (There is a loud
crash from off stage left. ALTON enters limping, and
carrying a change of clothes and other small items.
Everyone looks at him sorrowfully as he walks over to
cell four, hesitates, then enters. A muffled scream can
be heard from cell five. BRO. 4 rushes out with a
blooded knife. Seconds after the scream the loud
speaker can be heard, "All inmates return to your
rooms for the count," repeats over and over. From off
stage someone hollers, "Please don't, com'on, man,
don't do that." Some continual laughter. As lights
begin to fade, so does all sound. Everything is black
and silent, then one exceptionally long scream is
heard.)

Curtain

DID WE REALLY LOVE?"

I read your poem . . . while doing my bit

And I'm sorry to hear you're having a fit

So consider my reality as I run it down

To acquaint you neighbor . . . with my part of the town

A home, a family, and you for a wife
I aspired a job to make secure your Ufe
But deep down inside morals you lack
Always praising some brothers' cadillac

Your momma taught you to play on your man

Rob him daughter of everything you can

But my daddy was cool; he weren't no lame

So I copped him a spoon and he taught me the game

Don't lie to your self; you could have been my wife
But you preferred the glamour ... of an evil, fast -life

Wherever we would go your eyes would flash

Digging hogs . . . and brothers spending cash

I had no wardrobe— this, you made others to know

By knocking me one weekend, after snorting a heavy blow

I loved you baby and didn't want to blow

So I had to get down and make you my ho

It took some effort ... to tighten -up my new game

But after wining -and -dining . . . you had your street -name

My Cadillac car and diamond rings

Never meant to me anything!

It was you who had contracted an impatients -flu

To play and lean ... in a blue on blue

And the money that I taught you . . . how to make

Is stashed and invested in my future's stake

Because of you, I lost respect and my pride
Now you want to be home, at someone's side
Both of us are to blame ... for playing the game
Our children suffer no guidance and name
So I toss them a ten, every now and then
To alleviate the guilt ... of sharing your sin

Miss lady, miss lady, now that you know
I'll call you a cab ... so that you can go
Miss lady, miss lady, I must, however, say
Both of us deserve ... a brighter and better day

By Larry C. Thomas
(To continue. Part 2: "Let's Love Baby")

■>■»

''4*9,

\tiL\

Acknowledgements

The Drum Staff would like to thank the following people for their con-
tributions to this issue.

For their art work: Clyde Santana, pages 3 and 8; Rama Amen Ra, pages
10 and 23; Nelson Stevens, page 21; Naomi Beam, page 22; Lonny Powell,
page 35 donated by Charles Key; page 13 author unknown (Brother at
Norfolk).

Also to Larry Thomas (a Brother at Norfolk) who brought Norfolk to
our attention by answering a poem that appeared in our Women in Prison
issue— Vol. 4, No. 2, page 38.

Special thanks to Dr. Johnetta B. Cole of the W.E.B. Dubois Depart-
ment of Afro-American Studies and Steven Bengis of the University Without
Walls Prison Program for enabling Drum to gain access to Norfolk Prison.

And Mel Smith for his help and guidance.

Last but not least the many Brothers at Norfolk who made this issue
possible.

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