I SOUGHT MY BROTHER, EXCERPT...

I SOUGHT MY BROTHER: AN AFRO-AMERICAN REUNION, by S. Allen Counter and David L. Evans, foreword by Alex Haley, (M.I.T. Press, Cambridge, Mass.: 1981) p.34, 40-41, 50-51, 70 “He went on,'We have come to visit your land. These men who are leading us are Africans also. They are Africans from a place called America, the United States.' They stared at us even more cautiously. The small children crowded around our boat. One of the bushmen smiled and said something to our interpreter that caused everyone to burst out in laughter. We did not understand but laughed in relief. The man came forward, shook our hands, and asked us to step out of the boat onto their shore. When we asked our interpreter what had been funny, he replied 'the bahjah wondered why if you are African, you wear the clothes and other accoutrements of the bakrah.” We laughed again but with a little embarrassment this time.... “Counter said to the interpreter (who acted as our bahjah), 'Bahjah, please tell the chieftain that we are African-descended people too—we are African-Americans. Our ancestors were the same as those of the people of this great bush nation. Our ancestors were forcibly taken from their communities in Africa and brought to this part of the world to provide free labor to Europeans. They were taken to a northern land. [Counter then drew a map of South America, Africa, and the United States on the ground in front of the chieftain.] Most of them died in the process, but many survived the subhuman conditions of the trip across the ocean and subsequent enslavement. We are the descendants of those Africans just as you are. We are your brothers, you are our brothers and sisters; we are all part of the same family, from the same ancestors; we have been looking for you and we have found you.'... “Evans told the bahjah, 'Tell the headman and the villagers that we have a poem which expresses our feelings.' He recited it very slowly, so that everyone would have time to absorb it as it was translated: 'I sought my friend and my friend forsook me. I sought my God and my God eluded me. I sought my brother and found all three.' “In a few minutes the villagers and leaders understood what we had said to them. They were now visibly affected, shaken, and joyful. Some of the older women began to cry. They were saying 'Gan Gadu (heavenly father) oh Gan Gadu, they are our people.' “The women came forward to touch us: some put their arms around us to hug us tightly, saying 'ba' (my brother); the men stood and extended their hands. They should our hands in the conventional Western fashion but put their left hand under our right elbow while shaking with their right hand. This is considered high tribute. It was like a big family reunion—a 350-reunion between two long-separated Afro-American groups. Some of the women handed us their babies and smiled as we held them. We hugged and caressed the children with all warmth and affection that we felt at that moment.... “We were moved to tears.... “[John Gabriel] Stedman had described this remarkable sense of community and generosity when he said of their forebears, 'I however think they are a happy people, and possess so much friendship for one another, that they need not to be told to 'love their neighbors as themselves'; since the poorest negro, having only one egg, scorns to eat it alone; but were a dozen present, and everyone a stranger, he would cut or break it into just as many shares.'”