"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.
"Imam ljude u sebi." Tako je pevala pokojna Ebi Linkoln. Taj stih mi je mantra. "Imam ljude u sebi." Džomama Džons je osoba u meni koja je moj vodič. Ona je moj alter ego. Ispoljavam je u nastupima od 1995, i pojavljuje se kad ima neke uvide da ponudi ljudima. U ovo vreme radikalne promene, drago mi je da budem prenosilac njenih poruka vama.
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?
Džomama Džons: Šta ako vam kažem da će sve biti uredu... ali šta ako vam kažem - ne odmah? Ako vam kažem da predstoje iskušavanja izvan vaših najdubljih strahova? Da vam kažem da ćete pasti... nisko, nisko, nisko? Ali šta ako vam kažem da ćete iznenaditi sebe? Ako vam kažem da ćete biti dovoljno hrabri? Ako vam kažem da ipak nećemo svi uspeti? Ali šta ako vam kažem da baš tako treba da bude? Šta ako vam kažem da sam videla budućnost?
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.
Da li vam se sviđaju moje ruke? Ekspresivne su, zar ne? Sada pogledajte vaše ruke... hajde, pogledajte. Toliko istorije je zapisano kroz njihove dodire i znaci budućnosti ucrtani na dlanovima. Ponekad ruke čvrsto stežu, ponekad puštaju. Šta ako vam kažem da će sve biti poništeno? Hm.
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.
Dame i gospodo, i na drugi način predstavljeni, ja sam Džomama Džons. Neki me zovu "superzvezda zvuka duše" i ja se slažem, iako čak i u mojoj prošlosti to je bilo iz budućnosti.
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.
Dozvolite mi da vas vratim u moje detinjstvo. Zamislite ovo: bio je Dan sadnje, što je bio praznik koji sam ja izmislila za zajednicu crne omladine koju sam ja osnovala. Odjurila sam kući da obučem svoju baštensku odeću kada sam uhvatila svog ujka Frimana na delu. Stajao je iznad moje "kasice-prasice" sa podignutim čekićem. Nameravao je da ukrade moje novčiće.
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.
I vidite, moj ujka Friman je bio majstor. Mogao je da popravi bilo šta - polomljenu stolicu, razbijenu činiju - čak i da povrati u život bakine biljke. Imao je taj magični dodir sa slomljenim stvarima... i slomljenim ljudima. Poveo bi me sa sobom na svoje poslove i rekao: "Hajde Džo, hajde da uradimo nešto da napravimo ovaj svet boljim mestom". Ruke su mu bile široke i žuljevite, i uvek su me podsećale na iščupano korenje drveća.
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.
Dok smo radili, on bi pričao sa ljudima o promeni za koju je bio siguran da je iza ćoška. Videla sam ga kako popravlja izgubljene nade i za sobom ostavlja ljude visoko uzdignutih glava. Ruke su mu uzburkavale sunčevu svetlost.
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.
A sada se spremao da slomi moju "kasicu prasicu". Rekla sam: "Odstupi, čoveče, i pokaži mi svoje ruke." Znate, ironija je bila on mi je poklanjao sve stare novčiće koje je pronalazio ispod dasaka dok je radio. I ja sam ih stavljala u kasicu zajedno sa novcem koje sam zaradila zahvaljujući mojim detinjim poslovima.
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.
Ali do proleća 1970, ujka Friman je izgubio osećaj... kao i većinu poslova. Video je tešku budućnost građanskih nepravdi i nereda na svojim dlanovima. Poslednja slamka je bila predhodne zime kada su upucali Freda Hemptona. Preplavljen strahom i besom i tugom, ujka Frimen je pokušao da se poigra sa svojom budućnošću. Previše čvrsto se uhvatio i počeo da se igra brojevima.
"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."
"Jedan od ovih brojeva će biti pogodak, devojčice. Imaš li 25 centi za svog ujka Fri- ?" Neki od vas imaju takvog rođaka. Ali ja sam tačno u tom trenutku znala da moram nešto da učinim. Skočila sam i zgrabila taj čekić i razbila tu svinju. Ujka Friman je počeo da plače dok sam ja skupljala novčiće. "Ne kupujemo nikakav loto tiket, ujka Frimane. Hajde."
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."
Potrošili smo poslednju paru u prodavnici semenja. Znate, deca iz moje baštenske grupe? Nisu ni trepnula kada sam naterala ujka Frimana da klekne i ponovo stavi svoje ruke u zemlju i počne da raskopava zemlju za semenje. Moja mala prijateljica Taejža je čak je prišla i potapšala ga po leđima rekavši: "Isplači se, ujka Frimane. Isplači se."
"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.
"Ne mogu ispraviti ovo," jecao je. To vam je truizam daleke budućnosti. On nije prvi koji se tako osećao, a nije ni poslednji. Trenutno, izgleda kao da se sve raspada bez mogućnosti popravke. Tako i jeste. Ali to raspadanje može biti i prodor, bez obzira koliko nasilno i neizvesno i strašno izgledalo. Stvar je u tome... ne možemo to uraditi sami.
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."
Ujka Friman je toliko plakao tog dana dok smo sadili semenje, bio je naš svojstveni sistem za navodnjavanje. "Više ne znam ko sam, malena," rekao mi je u predvečerje. "Dobro je, ujka Frimane. Dobro. Ponovo si kao nov, i baš te takvog trebamo."