Hurston, Zora Neale.
Barracoon: The Story of the Last Black Cargo
If you read the book, you don't need to read my review. But I want you to see this quote most of all: "When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
I just read this book, and midway through, I am crying heavily, tears rolling down my face. But not for the horrors and just plain misfortune, which was unimagineable, that he endured during his 91 years, but for the beauty and love that shined through in spite of it.
He was only a "slave" for 5 and a half years. His freedom granted at the end of the Civil War. So the life of a slave was not the main focus of this book, but rather his endless yearning for home, and his quest to recreate it in America.
After reading this, and in the light of the enormous GREED that is coming to light in our own govenment, I can see the thread of GREED running through this whole story and through the entire story of the slave trade in America.
Yes, other Africans sold their captors into slavery. But they would have had no where to sell them if white men in ships had not been waiting on the shore.
Reading the story of Cudjo in his own words, I began to see an evident pattern. He lived in a tiny village in Africa, far from the coast. They had a society with rules and laws. Yes, it was very different from America, and in many ways would seem backward and violent, maybe even misogynistic, men having several wives, paying for them, fattening them up, etc.
But their laws, though harsh, seemed to benefit everyone. If you lied, stole, even murdered, you were tried and punished as everyone watched. If you kill you will be killed. However, the tribe did not wage war, they prepared for it, but that's all. Living in peace, they raised their animals, hunted, raised crops - never having to work too hard. They used palms to make wine, babanas to make beer. They used the different leaves of the forrest to heal wounds and even preserve the dead in some cases.
But their far off neighbors lived differently. They waged war on everyone, heartlessly killing indiscriminately, collecting taxes (food and wealth) from villagers they spared, who paid out of fear. They soon found that if they killed everyone in a village except the young and healthy, they could sell them as slaves on the coast. So, thats what they did. As the warring tribe traveled in comfort, being fed by all the small villages along the way (out of fear), they would arrive at Cudjo's village one day and did exactly that. They asked for their crops and wealth and when the village refused, they killed everyone and captured all the young.
One reason they were able to do this so easily, is because his village safety secrets were betrayed by a man for pay from the warring king. So his GREED led to the capture and slaughter of an entire village, so the king could transport them to the coast to sell. The king's GREED led him to demand other people's wealth as payment for being spared, and so he and his village did not have to work. Then he fed his GREED by selling the captors to the slavers. And he had no problem decapitating anyone who defied him and carrying their heads around on sticks!
Is this beginning to sound familiar? Seems like too many of the people in government begin to act like this. Filling their pockets by dominating the people below, causing pain and destruction without regard. We even have the same people willing to betray secrets that keep people safe, for money.
Now we come to the ship owners who were willing to sail to the coast of Africa for "cargo" that they could sell back home. This story takes place after it was illegal to sail there and bring in slaves. But these people who paid for the ship to sail and the captain were all willing to break the law for their own GREED. They did not care that people cried, got sick were separated from home and family, as long as they got paid. The ship in this story was about the same size as my one bedroom apartment. 116 blacks were laid in the hold for a 75 day trip.
When they arrived, the slaves were sold again, to people who believed it was their birthright to own land and become wealthy and to use slave labor to do it. And when the slaves were freed a few years later, the forer owners felt nothing was owed them. Their own GREED kept them from feeling the freed slaves were owed a place to live or land. Nor did they feel it would be necessary to take on the cost to return them to Africa.
But all this is the back story to his life. He was "freed" and told to go wherever he wanted to go! He was unable, as were his friends in the same situaton, to save enough after being freed to afford passage back to Africa, and of course his village would not have been there anyway. They decided to try to buy land. They rented it at first from their former owners, and did without until they were able to actually buy it. They buitl their own houses themselves, and their own church eventually. They created an African village in America, run by tribal leaders they chose. But his troubles did not stop. Other black Americans who had been here much longer, looked at him and his friends as "savages". They were ridiculed and taunted so much that his children grew up angry and combative. Cudjo was hit by a train, and tried to sue the train company, but his lawyer ran off with the money. His children died one by one, some from sickness, some from run-ins with the law, one from suicide over the despair of all his brothers dying. Cudjo even lost his wife, from a broken heart I think, at all her children dying. He had only a daughter in law and two grandchildren left.
But when he talked about his wife and children it was always with such love and open pain. His stories of his home land were filled with wisdom and poetic phrases. He never learned to read or write, but I have never rread such poignant words. Here are some that touched me the most.
"When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
talking about rich and poor:
"When you hungry it is painful but when de belly too full it painful too."
death
“My father say, ‘Oh de ground eats de best of everything.’ Den he weepee too."
good husband
"De husband what knows what is needed And gives it without asking—"
"When we see a man drunk we say, ‘Dere go de slave whut beat his master.’ Dat mean he buy de whiskey. It belong to him and he oughter rule it, but it done got control of him."
tree of his children have died
“Our house it very sad. Lookee lak all de family hurry to leave and go sleep on de hill."
His church members ask him:
‘Uncle Cudjo, make us a parable.’ “‘Well den,’ I say, ‘You see Ole Charlie dere. S’pose he stop here on de way to church. He got de parasol ’cause hethink it gwine rain when he leave de house. But he look at de sky and ’cide hit ain’ gwine rain so he set it dere by de door an’ go on to church. After de preachin’ he go on home ’cause he think de parasol at Cudjo house. It safe. He say, “I git it nexy time I go dat way.” When he come home he say to one de chillun, “Go to Cudjo house and tellee him I say sendee me my parasol.” “‘De parasol it pretty. I likee keep dat one.’ But I astee dem all, ‘Is it right to keep de parasol?’ Dey all say, ‘No it belongto Charlie.’ “‘Well,’ I say, ‘my wife, she b’long to God. He lef’ her by my door.’
‘Uncle Cudjo, make us a parable.’ “Den I axed dem, ‘How many limbs God give de body so it kin be active?’ “Dey say six; two arms two feet two eyes. “I say dey cut off de feet, he got hands to ’fend hisself. Dey cut off de hands he wiggle out de way when he see danger come. But when he lose de eye, den he can’t see nothin’ come upon him. Hefinish. My boys is my feet. My daughter is my hands. My wife she my eye. She left, Cudjo finish.”
Hurston, Zora Neale.
Barracoon: The Story of the Last Black Cargo
If you read the book, you don't need to read my review. But I want you to see this quote most of all: "When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
I just read this book, and midway through, I am crying heavily, tears rolling down my face. But not for the horrors and just plain misfortune, which was unimagineable, that he endured during his 91 years, but for the beauty and love that shined through in spite of it.
He was only a "slave" for 5 and a half years. His freedom granted at the end of the Civil War. So the life of a slave was not the main focus of this book, but rather his endless yearning for home, and his quest to recreate it in America.
After reading this, and in the light of the enormous GREED that is coming to light in our own govenment, I can see the thread of GREED running through this whole story and through the entire story of the slave trade in America.
Yes, other Africans sold their captors into slavery. But they would have had no where to sell them if white men in ships had not been waiting on the shore.
Reading the story of Cudjo in his own words, I began to see an evident pattern. He lived in a tiny village in Africa, far from the coast. They had a society with rules and laws. Yes, it was very different from America, and in many ways would seem backward and violent, maybe even misogynistic, men having several wives, paying for them, fattening them up, etc.
But their laws, though harsh, seemed to benefit everyone. If you lied, stole, even murdered, you were tried and punished as everyone watched. If you kill you will be killed. However, the tribe did not wage war, they prepared for it, but that's all. Living in peace, they raised their animals, hunted, raised crops - never having to work too hard. They used palms to make wine, babanas to make beer. They used the different leaves of the forrest to heal wounds and even preserve the dead in some cases.
But their far off neighbors lived differently. They waged war on everyone, heartlessly killing indiscriminately, collecting taxes (food and wealth) from villagers they spared, who paid out of fear. They soon found that if they killed everyone in a village except the young and healthy, they could sell them as slaves on the coast. So, thats what they did. As the warring tribe traveled in comfort, being fed by all the small villages along the way (out of fear), they would arrive at Cudjo's village one day and did exactly that. They asked for their crops and wealth and when the village refused, they killed everyone and captured all the young.
One reason they were able to do this so easily, is because his village safety secrets were betrayed by a man for pay from the warring king. So his GREED led to the capture and slaughter of an entire village, so the king could transport them to the coast to sell. The king's GREED led him to demand other people's wealth as payment for being spared, and so he and his village did not have to work. Then he fed his GREED by selling the captors to the slavers. And he had no problem decapitating anyone who defied him and carrying their heads around on sticks!
Is this beginning to sound familiar? Seems like too many of the people in government begin to act like this. Filling their pockets by dominating the people below, causing pain and destruction without regard. We even have the same people willing to betray secrets that keep people safe, for money.
Now we come to the ship owners who were willing to sail to the coast of Africa for "cargo" that they could sell back home. This story takes place after it was illegal to sail there and bring in slaves. But these people who paid for the ship to sail and the captain were all willing to break the law for their own GREED. They did not care that people cried, got sick were separated from home and family, as long as they got paid. The ship in this story was about the same size as my one bedroom apartment. 116 blacks were laid in the hold for a 75 day trip.
When they arrived, the slaves were sold again, to people who believed it was their birthright to own land and become wealthy and to use slave labor to do it. And when the slaves were freed a few years later, the forer owners felt nothing was owed them. Their own GREED kept them from feeling the freed slaves were owed a place to live or land. Nor did they feel it would be necessary to take on the cost to return them to Africa.
But all this is the back story to his life. He was "freed" and told to go wherever he wanted to go! He was unable, as were his friends in the same situaton, to save enough after being freed to afford passage back to Africa, and of course his village would not have been there anyway. They decided to try to buy land. They rented it at first from their former owners, and did without until they were able to actually buy it. They buitl their own houses themselves, and their own church eventually. They created an African village in America, run by tribal leaders they chose. But his troubles did not stop. Other black Americans who had been here much longer, looked at him and his friends as "savages". They were ridiculed and taunted so much that his children grew up angry and combative. Cudjo was hit by a train, and tried to sue the train company, but his lawyer ran off with the money. His children died one by one, some from sickness, some from run-ins with the law, one from suicide over the despair of all his brothers dying. Cudjo even lost his wife, from a broken heart I think, at all her children dying. He had only a daughter in law and two grandchildren left.
But when he talked about his wife and children it was always with such love and open pain. His stories of his home land were filled with wisdom and poetic phrases. He never learned to read or write, but I have never rread such poignant words. Here are some that touched me the most.
"When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
talking about rich and poor:
"When you hungry it is painful but when de belly too full it painful too."
death
“My father say, ‘Oh de ground eats de best of everything.’ Den he weepee too."
good husband
"De husband what knows what is needed And gives it without asking—"
"When we see a man drunk we say, ‘Dere go de slave whut beat his master.’ Dat mean he buy de whiskey. It belong to him and he oughter rule it, but it done got control of him."
tree of his children have died
“Our house it very sad. Lookee lak all de family hurry to leave and go sleep on de hill."
His church members ask him:
‘Uncle Cudjo, make us a parable.’ “‘Well den,’ I say, ‘You see Ole Charlie dere. S’pose he stop here on de way to church. He got de parasol ’cause hethink it gwine rain when he leave de house. But he look at de sky and ’cide hit ain’ gwine rain so he set it dere by de door an’ go on to church. After de preachin’ he go on home ’cause he think de parasol at Cudjo house. It safe. He say, “I git it nexy time I go dat way.” When he come home he say to one de chillun, “Go to Cudjo house and tellee him I say sendee me my parasol.” “‘De parasol it pretty. I likee keep dat one.’ But I astee dem all, ‘Is it right to keep de parasol?’ Dey all say, ‘No it belongto Charlie.’ “‘Well,’ I say, ‘my wife, she b’long to God. He lef’ her by my door.’
‘Uncle Cudjo, make us a parable.’ “Den I axed dem, ‘How many limbs God give de body so it kin be active?’ “Dey say six; two arms two feet two eyes. “I say dey cut off de feet, he got hands to ’fend hisself. Dey cut off de hands he wiggle out de way when he see danger come. But when he lose de eye, den he can’t see nothin’ come upon him. Hefinish. My boys is my feet. My daughter is my hands. My wife she my eye. She left, Cudjo finish.”
Hurston, Zora Neale.
Barracoon: The Story of the Last Black Cargo
If you read the book, you don't need to read my review. But I want you to see this quote most of all: "When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
I just read this book, and midway through, I am crying heavily, tears rolling down my face. But not for the horrors and just plain misfortune, which was unimagineable, that he endured during his 91 years, but for the beauty and love that shined through in spite of it.
He was only a "slave" for 5 and a half years. His freedom granted at the end of the Civil War. So the life of a slave was not the main focus of this book, but rather his endless yearning for home, and his quest to recreate it in America.
After reading this, and in the light of the enormous GREED that is coming to light in our own govenment, I can see the thread of GREED running through this whole story and through the entire story of the slave trade in America.
Yes, other Africans sold their captors into slavery. But they would have had no where to sell them if white men in ships had not been waiting on the shore.
Reading the story of Cudjo in his own words, I began to see an evident pattern. He lived in a tiny village in Africa, far from the coast. They had a society with rules and laws. Yes, it was very different from America, and in many ways would seem backward and violent, maybe even misogynistic, men having several wives, paying for them, fattening them up, etc.
But their laws, though harsh, seemed to benefit everyone. If you lied, stole, even murdered, you were tried and punished as everyone watched. If you kill you will be killed. However, the tribe did not wage war, they prepared for it, but that's all. Living in peace, they raised their animals, hunted, raised crops - never having to work too hard. They used palms to make wine, babanas to make beer. They used the different leaves of the forrest to heal wounds and even preserve the dead in some cases.
But their far off neighbors lived differently. They waged war on everyone, heartlessly killing indiscriminately, collecting taxes (food and wealth) from villagers they spared, who paid out of fear. They soon found that if they killed everyone in a village except the young and healthy, they could sell them as slaves on the coast. So, thats what they did. As the warring tribe traveled in comfort, being fed by all the small villages along the way (out of fear), they would arrive at Cudjo's village one day and did exactly that. They asked for their crops and wealth and when the village refused, they killed everyone and captured all the young.
One reason they were able to do this so easily, is because his village safety secrets were betrayed by a man for pay from the warring king. So his GREED led to the capture and slaughter of an entire village, so the king could transport them to the coast to sell. The king's GREED led him to demand other people's wealth as payment for being spared, and so he and his village did not have to work. Then he fed his GREED by selling the captors to the slavers. And he had no problem decapitating anyone who defied him and carrying their heads around on sticks!
Is this beginning to sound familiar? Seems like too many of the people in government begin to act like this. Filling their pockets by dominating the people below, causing pain and destruction without regard. We even have the same people willing to betray secrets that keep people safe, for money.
Now we come to the ship owners who were willing to sail to the coast of Africa for "cargo" that they could sell back home. This story takes place after it was illegal to sail there and bring in slaves. But these people who paid for the ship to sail and the captain were all willing to break the law for their own GREED. They did not care that people cried, got sick were separated from home and family, as long as they got paid. The ship in this story was about the same size as my one bedroom apartment. 116 blacks were laid in the hold for a 75 day trip.
When they arrived, the slaves were sold again, to people who believed it was their birthright to own land and become wealthy and to use slave labor to do it. And when the slaves were freed a few years later, the forer owners felt nothing was owed them. Their own GREED kept them from feeling the freed slaves were owed a place to live or land. Nor did they feel it would be necessary to take on the cost to return them to Africa.
But all this is the back story to his life. He was "freed" and told to go wherever he wanted to go! He was unable, as were his friends in the same situaton, to save enough after being freed to afford passage back to Africa, and of course his village would not have been there anyway. They decided to try to buy land. They rented it at first from their former owners, and did without until they were able to actually buy it. They buitl their own houses themselves, and their own church eventually. They created an African village in America, run by tribal leaders they chose. But his troubles did not stop. Other black Americans who had been here much longer, looked at him and his friends as "savages". They were ridiculed and taunted so much that his children grew up angry and combative. Cudjo was hit by a train, and tried to sue the train company, but his lawyer ran off with the money. His children died one by one, some from sickness, some from run-ins with the law, one from suicide over the despair of all his brothers dying. Cudjo even lost his wife, from a broken heart I think, at all her children dying. He had only a daughter in law and two grandchildren left.
But when he talked about his wife and children it was always with such love and open pain. His stories of his home land were filled with wisdom and poetic phrases. He never learned to read or write, but I have never rread such poignant words. Here are some that touched me the most.
"When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
talking about rich and poor:
"When you hungry it is painful but when de belly too full it painful too."
death
“My father say, ‘Oh de ground eats de best of everything.’ Den he weepee too."
good husband
"De husband what knows what is needed And gives it without asking—"
"When we see a man drunk we say, ‘Dere go de slave whut beat his master.’ Dat mean he buy de whiskey. It belong to him and he oughter rule it, but it done got control of him."
tree of his children have died
“Our house it very sad. Lookee lak all de family hurry to leave and go sleep on de hill."
His church members ask him:
‘Uncle Cudjo, make us a parable.’ “‘Well den,’ I say, ‘You see Ole Charlie dere. S’pose he stop here on de way to church. He got de parasol ’cause hethink it gwine rain when he leave de house. But he look at de sky and ’cide hit ain’ gwine rain so he set it dere by de door an’ go on to church. After de preachin’ he go on home ’cause he think de parasol at Cudjo house. It safe. He say, “I git it nexy time I go dat way.” When he come home he say to one de chillun, “Go to Cudjo house and tellee him I say sendee me my parasol.” “‘De parasol it pretty. I likee keep dat one.’ But I astee dem all, ‘Is it right to keep de parasol?’ Dey all say, ‘No it belongto Charlie.’ “‘Well,’ I say, ‘my wife, she b’long to God. He lef’ her by my door.’
‘Uncle Cudjo, make us a parable.’ “Den I axed dem, ‘How many limbs God give de body so it kin be active?’ “Dey say six; two arms two feet two eyes. “I say dey cut off de feet, he got hands to ’fend hisself. Dey cut off de hands he wiggle out de way when he see danger come. But when he lose de eye, den he can’t see nothin’ come upon him. Hefinish. My boys is my feet. My daughter is my hands. My wife she my eye. She left, Cudjo finish.”
Hurston, Zora Neale.
Barracoon: The Story of the Last Black Cargo
If you read the book, you don't need to read my review. But I want you to see this quote most of all: "When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
I just read this book, and midway through, I am crying heavily, tears rolling down my face. But not for the horrors and just plain misfortune, which was unimagineable, that he endured during his 91 years, but for the beauty and love that shined through in spite of it.
He was only a "slave" for 5 and a half years. His freedom granted at the end of the Civil War. So the life of a slave was not the main focus of this book, but rather his endless yearning for home, and his quest to recreate it in America.
After reading this, and in the light of the enormous GREED that is coming to light in our own govenment, I can see the thread of GREED running through this whole story and through the entire story of the slave trade in America.
Yes, other Africans sold their captors into slavery. But they would have had no where to sell them if white men in ships had not been waiting on the shore.
Reading the story of Cudjo in his own words, I began to see an evident pattern. He lived in a tiny village in Africa, far from the coast. They had a society with rules and laws. Yes, it was very different from America, and in many ways would seem backward and violent, maybe even misogynistic, men having several wives, paying for them, fattening them up, etc.
But their laws, though harsh, seemed to benefit everyone. If you lied, stole, even murdered, you were tried and punished as everyone watched. If you kill you will be killed. However, the tribe did not wage war, they prepared for it, but that's all. Living in peace, they raised their animals, hunted, raised crops - never having to work too hard. They used palms to make wine, babanas to make beer. They used the different leaves of the forrest to heal wounds and even preserve the dead in some cases.
But their far off neighbors lived differently. They waged war on everyone, heartlessly killing indiscriminately, collecting taxes (food and wealth) from villagers they spared, who paid out of fear. They soon found that if they killed everyone in a village except the young and healthy, they could sell them as slaves on the coast. So, thats what they did. As the warring tribe traveled in comfort, being fed by all the small villages along the way (out of fear), they would arrive at Cudjo's village one day and did exactly that. They asked for their crops and wealth and when the village refused, they killed everyone and captured all the young.
One reason they were able to do this so easily, is because his village safety secrets were betrayed by a man for pay from the warring king. So his GREED led to the capture and slaughter of an entire village, so the king could transport them to the coast to sell. The king's GREED led him to demand other people's wealth as payment for being spared, and so he and his village did not have to work. Then he fed his GREED by selling the captors to the slavers. And he had no problem decapitating anyone who defied him and carrying their heads around on sticks!
Is this beginning to sound familiar? Seems like too many of the people in government begin to act like this. Filling their pockets by dominating the people below, causing pain and destruction without regard. We even have the same people willing to betray secrets that keep people safe, for money.
Now we come to the ship owners who were willing to sail to the coast of Africa for "cargo" that they could sell back home. This story takes place after it was illegal to sail there and bring in slaves. But these people who paid for the ship to sail and the captain were all willing to break the law for their own GREED. They did not care that people cried, got sick were separated from home and family, as long as they got paid. The ship in this story was about the same size as my one bedroom apartment. 116 blacks were laid in the hold for a 75 day trip.
When they arrived, the slaves were sold again, to people who believed it was their birthright to own land and become wealthy and to use slave labor to do it. And when the slaves were freed a few years later, the forer owners felt nothing was owed them. Their own GREED kept them from feeling the freed slaves were owed a place to live or land. Nor did they feel it would be necessary to take on the cost to return them to Africa.
But all this is the back story to his life. He was "freed" and told to go wherever he wanted to go! He was unable, as were his friends in the same situaton, to save enough after being freed to afford passage back to Africa, and of course his village would not have been there anyway. They decided to try to buy land. They rented it at first from their former owners, and did without until they were able to actually buy it. They buitl their own houses themselves, and their own church eventually. They created an African village in America, run by tribal leaders they chose. But his troubles did not stop. Other black Americans who had been here much longer, looked at him and his friends as "savages". They were ridiculed and taunted so much that his children grew up angry and combative. Cudjo was hit by a train, and tried to sue the train company, but his lawyer ran off with the money. His children died one by one, some from sickness, some from run-ins with the law, one from suicide over the despair of all his brothers dying. Cudjo even lost his wife, from a broken heart I think, at all her children dying. He had only a daughter in law and two grandchildren left.
But when he talked about his wife and children it was always with such love and open pain. His stories of his home land were filled with wisdom and poetic phrases. He never learned to read or write, but I have never rread such poignant words. Here are some that touched me the most.
"When I think ’bout dat time I try not to cry no mo’. My eyes dey stop cryin’ but de tears runnee down inside me all de time. "
talking about rich and poor:
"When you hungry it is painful but when de belly too full it painful to
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Popular Highlights in this book
That though the heart is breaking, happiness can exist in a moment, also. And because the moment in which we live is all the time there really is, we can keep going.Highlighted by 1,258 Kindle readers- When you hungry it is painful but when de belly too full it painful too.Highlighted by 664 Kindle readers
- Kossola was born circa 1841, in the town of Bantè, the home to the Isha subgroup of the Yoruba people of West Africa.Highlighted by 500 Kindle readers
Reviews with images
What a great read!!
I came across this book by way of a documentary on Netflix (Descendant) about the Clotilda. I was so invested in learning more that I bought this book. I’m only 15 pages in and so enthralled… If you allow your imagination to wander, you may find yourself speaking in Cudjo Lewis’ dialect. Beautiful beautiful masterpiece. Kudos to the late and great Zora Neale Hurston.
Top reviews from other countries
Cliente Kindle
Black history / História Povo Negro
Reviewed in Brazil on November 4, 2023
Dominic Stafford Uglow
A Fantastic and Rare Account
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on May 17, 2023marco carrara
Truth can be more dramatic than fiction
Reviewed in Italy on August 28, 2019