"I've got people in me." So sang the late Abbey Lincoln. I take that lyric as mantra. "I've got people in me." Jomama Jones is the person in me I turn to as a guide. She's my alter ego. I've been embodying her in performance since 1995, and she comes around when she has some insight to offer folks. At this time of radical change, I'm glad to be the vessel for her message to you.
"I've got people in me." Dinyanyikan oleh Abbey Lincoln. Saya menganggap lirik itu sebagai mantra. "I've got people in me." Jomama Jones adalah sosok di dalam diri saya yang menjadi panutan. Dia alter ego saya. Saya telah menampilkannya sejak 1995, dan dia muncul saat membagikan gagasannya ke penonton. Di saat perubahan radikal ini, saya senang untuk menjadi wadah untuk menyampaikan pesannya kepada Anda.
Jomama Jones: What if I told you it's going to be alright ... but what if I told you not yet? What if I told you there are trials ahead beyond your deepest fears? What if I told you will you fall ... down, down, down? But what if I told you you will surprise yourself? What if I told you will be brave enough? What if I told you we won't all make it through? But what if I told you that is as it must be? What if I told you I've seen the future?
Jomama Jones: Bagaimana jika saya katakan semua akan baik-baik saja... tetapi bagaimana jika belum? Bagaimana jika saya katakan masih ada cobaan di depan yang melebihi ketakutan terdalam Anda? Bagaimana kalau saya katakan Anda akan jatuh begitu dalam? Tetapi, bagaimana jika saya katakan Anda akan mengejutkan diri sendiri? Bagaimana jika saya katakan Anda akan menjadi cukup berani? Bagaimana jika saya katakan bahwa kita semua tak akan berhasil melaluinya? Tetapi, bagaimana jika saya katakan memang itu yang seharusnya terjadi? Bagaimana jika saya katakan bahwa saya telah melihat masa depan?
Do you like my hands? They're expressive, yeah? Now look at your hands -- now go on. There's so much history recorded through their touches and marks of the future sketched on their palms. Sometimes hands grip tight, sometimes hands let go. What if I told you it's all going to come undone? Hm.
Anda suka tangan saya? Ekspresif, bukan? Sekarang lihat tangan Anda -- lakukan. Ada begitu banyak sejarah yang terekam melalui sentuhan dan tanda masa depan yang tergambar di telapak tangan. Terkadang tangan menggenggam erat, terkadang tangan melepaskan. Bagaimana jika saya beritahu Anda bahwa semuanya tidak akan selesai sesuai rencana? Hmm.
Ladies and gentlemen and otherwise described, I am Jomama Jones. Some call me a soul sonic superstar, and I agree, though even in my past that was from the future.
Ibu-ibu dan Bapak-bapak serta hadirin sekalian, Saya Jomama Jones. Sebagian orang memanggil saya superstar <i>soul sonic</i>, dan saya setuju, sekalipun masa lalu saya berasal dari masa depan.
Let me take you back to girlhood. Picture this: it was Planting Day, which was a holiday I invented for the Black youth community group I founded. I dashed home to put on my gardening ensemble when I caught my uncle Freeman red-handed. He was standing over my piggy bank with his hammer raised high. He was fixing to steal my coins.
Mari ikut ke masa kecil saya. Bayangkan ini: Saat itu Planting Day, hari libur yang saya ciptakan bagi komunitas pemuda kulit hitam yang saya dirikan. Saya berlari pulang untuk memakai perangkat berkebun dan menangkap basah paman saya, Freeman. Dia berdiri di dekat celengan saya sambil mengangkat palu tinggi-tinggi. Jelas dia ingin mencuri uang saya.
And you see, my uncle Freeman was a handyman. He could fix anything -- a broken chair, a shattered pot -- even bring grandmother's plants back to life. He had that magic touch with broken things ... and broken people. He would take me with him on his jobs and say, "C'mon Jo, let's go do something to make this world a better place." His hands were wide and calloused, and they always reminded me of displaced tree roots.
Anda tahu, Paman Freeman seorang tukang. Dia bisa memperbaiki apa pun, kursi rusak, pot pecah-- bahkan menghidupkan tanaman nenek. Dia punya sentuhan ajaib untuk barang rusak... dan juga orang yang hancur. Dia akan mengajak saya untuk bekerja dan berkata, "Ayo, Jo, ayo lakukan sesuatu untuk membuat dunia yang lebih baik." Tangannya lebar dan kapalan, mengingatkan saya akan akar pohon yang tak terurus.
As we worked he would talk with folks about the change he was sure was just around the corner. I saw him mend flagging hopes and leave folks with their heads held high. His hands stirred the sunshine.
Saat kami bekerja, dia akan mengajak orang-orang mengobrol tentang perubahan yang dia yakini akan segera terjadi. Saya melihatnya memperbaiki harapan yang lesu dan meninggalkan mereka dengan kepala terangkat tinggi. Tangannya membawa kebahagiaan.
And now he was about to break my piggy bank. I said "Step back, man, and show me your hands." You know the irony was he used to give me all the old coins he'd find under floorboards while working. And I put them in the piggy bank along with the money I earned through my childhood side hustles.
Dan kini dia hendak memecahkan celengan saya. Saya berkata, "Hentikan, perlihatkan tanganmu." Ini ironis. Dulu dia memberi saya uang receh yang dia temukan saat bekerja. Lalu saya masukkan ke celengan bersama uang yang saya peroleh dalam pekerjaan sampingan masa kecil.
But by the spring of 1970, Uncle Freeman had lost his touch ... along with most of his jobs. He saw a heavy future of civil wrongs and Black power outages in his palms. The last straw had come the previous winter when they had gunned down Fred Hampton. Overwhelmed with fear and rage and grief, Uncle Freeman tried to game his future. He gripped too tight, and he started playing the numbers.
Tetapi pada musim semi tahun 1970, Paman Freeman kehilangan sentuhannya... bersama dengan sebagian besar pekerjaannya. Dia melihat masa depan yang berat dari pelanggaran sipil dan padamnya kekuatan kulit hitam di tangannya. Bencana terakhir datang pada musim dingin sebelumnya saat mereka menembak Fred Hampton. Dipenuhi dengan ketakutan, amarah, dan kesedihan, Paman Friedman mencoba mempertaruhkan masa depannya. Dia berusaha mengendalikannya dan mulai mempermainkan angkanya.
"Well, one of these numbers is gonna hit, little girl. You got a quarter for your uncle Free -- " Now some of y'all have that relative. But I knew right then and there I had to do something. I jumped up and I grabbed that hammer and I brought it crashing down on that pig. And Uncle Freeman started to weep as I gathered up all the coins. "We're not buying no lottery ticket, Uncle Freeman. C'mon."
"Salah satu dari angka ini akan berhasil, nak. Nanti Paman bagi 1/4 untukmu." Di antara kalian mungkin punya kerabat seperti itu. Tetapi, saya tahu pasti bahwa ada yang harus dilakukan. Saya melompat dan merebut palu itu dan saya hantamkan ke celengan itu. Paman Freeman mulai menangis saat saya mengumpulkan koin itu. "Kita tidak akan membeli lotre, Paman Freeman. Ayolah."
We spent every last cent at the seed store. You know, the kids in my gardening group? They didn't bat an eye when I had Uncle Freeman get down and put his hands in the earth again and start breaking up that soil for our seeds. And my little friend Taesha even came over and started slapping him on the back saying, "Cry it out, Uncle Freeman. Cry it out."
Kami menghabiskan semua uangnya di toko bibit. Anda tahu anak-anak di kelompok berkebun saya? Mereka tidak peduli saat saya meminta Paman berjongkok dan menyentuh tanah lagi, lalu mulai menggali tanah untuk menanam benih. Teman saya, Taesha, datang dan menepuk punggungnya sambil berkata, "Menangislah, Paman. Menangislah."
"I can't fix this," he sobbed. It's an ancient-future truism, that. He wasn't the first to feel that way, and he wouldn't be the last. Right now, it feels as though everything is breaking beyond repair. It is. But that breaking apart can be a breaking open, no matter how violent and uncertain and fearsome it seems. The thing is ... we can't do it alone.
"Saya tak bisa memperbaiki ini," isaknya. Itu adalah kebenaran masa depan kuno. Dia bukan orang pertama dan terakhir yang merasakan itu. Kini, rasanya seperti tak ada yang bisa diperbaiki. Begitulah. Tetapi, kehancuran itu dapat menjadi celah, tak peduli sekejam, setidak pasti, dan semenakutkan kelihatannya. Masalahnya... kita tidak bisa melakukannya sendiri.
Uncle Freeman cried so much that day as we planted our seeds, he was our very own irrigation system. "I don't know who I am anymore, little girl," he said to me at sundown. "Good, Uncle Freeman. Good. You're new again, and that's just how we need you."
Paman Freeman menangis keras hari itu saat kami menanam benih, dia menjadi sistem perairan kami. "Saya tak tahu lagi siapa diri saya, nak," katanya pada suatu senja. "Bagus, Paman Freeman. Bagus. Paman baru dilahirkan lagi, dan sosokmu inilah yang kami butuhkan."