Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Taliban Hanging Loose in Qatar


Peace Envoys From Taliban at Loose Ends in Qatar

Banaras Khan/Agence France-Presse
Tayeb Agha, center, the Taliban leader’s chief of staff, in November 2001. He is one of the diplomats stranded in Qatar.
World Twitter Logo.
DOHA, Qatar — When a handful of Taliban emissaries flew into Qatar on an American plane in 2010, the Obama administration hoped they would help negotiate a peace deal that could stabilize Afghanistan and allow the United States a graceful exit.
Three years after that secret arrival, the Taliban officials remain idle and their political office here remains unused.
“They are just living here enjoying the air-conditioning, driving luxury cars, eating and making babies,” one Afghan diplomat in Qatar said. “It’s all they can do; they have no work to do.”
They are unlikely to see a negotiating table anytime soon either, with the new fighting season in Afghanistan off to a particularly violent start and with the latest push to restart talks all but abandoned. Once again, the Taliban’s attention is on the battlefield, and on what may be gained or lost there as the American military begins its withdrawal from the war.
The Taliban presence here — eight or more relatively high-ranking officials with their families, Afghan officials say — is occasionally reconfirmed in a sighting on the streets or, in the case of the Afghan diplomat, when the Taliban men come to the sleepy Afghan Embassy here to register the birth of another child.
Early insurgent negotiations with American officials had a faltering start, initially over a proposed prisoner exchange, in which five Taliban figures being held at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, would be released in exchange for the freedom of the lone American soldier being held prisoner by the Taliban, Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl. But American officials say that their talks have ended and that there have been no further discussions with the Taliban since early 2012.
Recently, Western diplomats in Kabul, Afghanistan’s capital, expressed hope that the discussions might resume amid intense diplomatic activity by many countries to push peace talks, this time led by Afghanistan. That hope now appears to have fizzled once again, and diplomats’ expectations of some movement by the end of March from the Taliban side have come to naught. President Hamid Karzai met here with the Qatari emir,Sheik Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani, on March 31 in what Afghan officials billed as discussions about opening the office, but no developments were announced after the meeting.
“There is a limit to how long we can wait,” said another Western diplomat familiar with the peace efforts. “If at some point they don’t issue statements, it’s not open-ended. There are ways we can pressure the Taliban in Qatar.”
Officially, the Qataris have never explicitly admitted that the Taliban are even present here, and the government-controlled press never mentions it, although they have acknowledged that they are willing to host an official office for peace talks.
Qatari officials did not respond to requests for comment about the Taliban presence.
“With the Taliban, the Qataris have a hot potato,” said an Afghan journalist working here, who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of being expelled. “How do you handle hosting suicide bombers? They can’t acknowledge them until that sort of activity stops.”
The Taliban representatives here are not lightweights. The most prominent among them isTayeb Agha, the chief of staff to the Taliban’s leader, Mullah Muhammad Omar. Others include Sher Mohammad Abbas Stanikzai, the former Taliban health minister, and Qari din Mohammed Hanafi, their former minister of planning. The delegation includes veteran diplomats like Mualavi Shahabadin Delawar, the former Taliban ambassador to Saudi Arabia; Sohail Shaheen, a former ambassador to Pakistan; and Hafiz Aziz Rahman, the representative to the United Nations for the Taliban government when it ruled Afghanistan.
Just why the effort to open a Taliban office has faltered is a matter of dispute. The Americans say the Taliban have simply decided to continue fighting, worried by pressure from their own hard-liners and concerned that entering peace talks would sap their will on the battlefield. “No one wants to be the last one to die before peace talks start,” as one diplomat put it.
The Taliban say the Americans reneged on their confidence-building pledge to free the Guantánamo five, which would have been politically difficult for President Obama, given bipartisan opposition in Congress to such releases. Instead, the Americans insisted that talks would have to include the Afghan government first. The Taliban has rejected that condition, deriding the government of President Hamid Karzai as a puppet regime and saying it would talk to the Afghan government only after reaching a settlement with the Americans.
Still, neither Western diplomats nor the Taliban have given up on the idea of talks in Qatar. “There are Taliban all over the place talking about peace, but the U.S. government’s view is that the most promising is the Doha track,” one diplomat said.
Wahid Muzhda, a former official in the Taliban’s Foreign Ministry who now lives in Kabul but maintains contacts with the insurgents, said that “some of the Taliban still believe it’s worth having the office there, but its prospects do look dim.”
Both Taliban and American officials publicly agree on one thing: that they are no longer talking to each another, officially or unofficially.
That, however, is a development that the Afghan government has refused to believe. President Karzai has openly accused the Americans of doing so. “We think they are secretly talking,” the Afghan diplomat in Qatar said. “America is the best friend of Afghanistan, and between friends we should tell each other what we’re doing.”
The Afghans have not tried to block the Qatari initiative. “It suits everybody,” said the Afghan journalist working in Doha. “The Americans want their soldier back, the Taliban want a vacation, the Pakistanis want the Taliban to look independent of them, and the Afghans want distance between the Pakistanis and the Taliban.”
While in Qatar, the Taliban have scrupulously avoided all public appearances, refusing interviews and issuing no statements — which the Qataris have made a condition of their presence.
An Afghan diplomat was at a shopping mall in Doha recently and heard a child call out in Pashto, the language used by most Taliban.
The diplomat turned and saw Hanif din Mohammad, a Taliban representative from northern Badakhshan Province. Introducing himself as an embassy official, the diplomat then said, “So, are you from the other side?” Blushing, the Talib turned and walked away, children in tow.
Alissa J. Rubin and Sangar Rahimi contributed reporting from Kabul, Afghanistan.

Happy Birthday Dr. Nathan Hare, Ancestor Paul Robeson and Ras Baraka


Happy 80th Birthday, Dr. Nathan Hare, Father of Black Studies


Happy 80th Birthday Dr. Nathan Hare

Geoffery's Club
410 14th St., Oakland
Saturday, April 13, 2013
3-5pm




PROGRAM



MUSICAL INTERLUDE    TARIKA LEWIS, EARL DAVIS

WELCOME     DR. AYODELE NZINGA, PhD

LIBATIONS    MUTIMA IMANI

HAPPY BIRTHDAY    MECHELLE LACHAUX

OPEN MIKE: WORDS OF PRAISE (THREE MINUTE MAX)

A CONVERSATION: DR. NATHAN HARE AND MARVIN X

Q and A

The End



Thanks:

Geoffery Pete,  Paul Cobb, Oakland Post; Marvin X, Amira Jackmon, Esq., Archives Project; Dr. Mona Scott, Black Repertory Group Theatre, West Oakland Renaissance Committee/Elders Council, Dr. Ayodele Nzinga, Lower Bottom Playaz, Geoffery Grier, SF Recovery Theatre, Wanda Sabir, SF Bayview

For information: 510-200-4164






Dr. Hare on the Hare Papers
Marvin,

Looks great so far as it went. What you have in those boxes, as you know, is not the whole or the best of what’s in the apartment, let alone the entire stash.

FYI. I have been written about with Martin Luther King and Floyd McKissick in the official FBI Newsletter, May 23, 1967,  at the end of co-leading the campus uprising at Howard toward a black university relevant to the black community and its needs in the face of an announcement in 1966 to make it “Sixty Percent White by 1970) anticipating the riots that came that summer.  

I have published in Newsweek (debating RoyWilkins, NAACP), Massachusetts Review, the London times, Social Forces, Social Education, Saturday Review, Saturday Evening Post, U. S. News and World Report, Esquire’s “Thirteen Top Black Scholars.” Negro History Bulletin, Journal of Negro Education, Graduate Journal, Liberal Education, ad infinitum, the periodical Black Male/Female Relationships, The Black Think Tank.

Julia was named by the Junior Chamber of Commerce in 1966 as the “Outstanding Young Educator” (35 and under) for every grade level for the whole of the District of Columbia’ public school system.  She also was included in Ebony’s “150 Most Influential African-Americans” circa 2008. Multiple times “Ten Most Influential African-Americans in the Bay Area” from City Flight Magazine. She and John Hope Franklin are among those who have been conducted into Tulsa’s Booker T. Washington Hall of Fame. Currently integrated but still rated as one of the top high schools in the country. Julia grew up playing piano and organ for the Mt. zion Baptist Church, which was bombed from the air, the only instance in American history. She also was university organist while still a student. She was also voted the Best Girl Dancer and Most Popular Girl at Langston.

I have won distinguished awards, including the highest given , lifetime achievement, from the National Association of Black Sociologists, and National Black College Alumni Hall of Fame, black psychologists, National Council for Black Studies (twice),  etc.

I was on the Steering Committee of the First and Third National Black Power Conferences. (Newark and Philadelphia, respectively). Also The First National Black United Front founded by a former student, Stokely Carmichael.

I was a distinguished visiting scholar at Stanford on the Sixties, Julia and I have been Distinguished Visiting Scholars at the University of Pennsylvania, Stillman (Alabama) and Lane (Tennesee).

I have keynoted the Fourth National Conference of Afroamerican Writers as well as the National Conference of Black studies. I was on the North America Zonal Committee of the Second  World Black and African Festival of Arts and Culture (FESTAC), held in Lagos. I was an invited by the Organization of African Unity (OAU) as an observer at the First World Festival of Arts and Culture (Algiers).

I was a professional boxer in D.C. and Maryland (featured on the cover of Jet, in Ebony, Sepia, NET (National Educational Television). Made for TV Movie “Color Us Black).”

Julia aspired to be an actor later in life and had among her credits a  bit part with Jackie Gleason in “Mr. Billion. She was or is a member of SAG, AFTRA, and
Was for three years Director of Community Affairs for KSFO radio (Cowboy Gene Autry’ station) for ten years. Was on the air in a morning drive in dialogue with Don Sherwood. She was also a Talk Show host for three years at KGO Radio, the ABC Station.

I did two Ph.D. theses.  My master’s thesis, ”A Study of the Professional Boxer” (1957) anticipated sports sociology and sports psychology. Translated in several languages and included in several anthologies, including Abraham Chapman’s, Mentor Book, “New Black Voices” (featured on the cover).

We lived through segregation in the South until the 1960s. I served in the U.S. Army, though a resister in my way before it was popular. The only person I know who got drafted and got the orders canceled. Also, when I saw proof of service in the early 1980s the Army had no record of ever discharging me. I achieved Sharpshooter ranking without completing the shooting involved.

We will come across documentation of such as the above in the final gathering of the archives.

For your personal information, be advised that I fully intend to complete the autobiography myself (hence “auto”) before I croak. For I have miles to go before I sleep, despite the fact that there are several things that might be good enough to take me out.  One month from now, on Paul Robeson’s birthday, I will be 80.  If I manage to finish the autobiography, you would then be encouraged to do a biography, as materials and notes would be left over from the autobiography, aside from all the gossip, lies and scuttlebutt you might gather as well.

Nathan


In assembling the Dr. Nathan Hare and Dr. Julia Hare papers, we found Nathan's professional boxing robe.  The Bay Area will celebrate the 80th birthday of Dr. Nathan Hare, our Franz Fanon, on Saturday, April 13, 3-5pm at Geoffery's Club, 410 14th Street @ Franklin, downtown Oakland. 
photo Marvin X



 Paul Robeson "The Artistic Freedom Fighter"


                        City Councilman Ras Baraka 
The Next Mayor of Newark, New Jersey
Newark will celebrate the birthday of Ras Baraka
on Friday, April 12, at the home of his parents,
Mrs. Amina Baraka and Mr. Amiri Baraka,
808 S. 10th Street, Newark, NJ.

Was Poet Pablo Neruda Poisoned by Pinochet's Agents?


Poet's body exhumed: Was Pablo Neruda poisoned?

A judge ordered a poet's body exhumed to look for evidence that Nobel laureate Pablo Neruda was killed by agents of Gen. Augusto Pinochet's brutal dictatorship.

By Eva Vergara, Associated Press / April 8, 2013
Forensic anthropologists dig at the grave of Nobel laureate Pablo Neruda as they prepare for the exhumation of the poet's remains in Isla Negra, Chile, April 7. The poet's body was exhumed today in an effort to clear up four decades of suspicion about how the poet died in the days after Chile's military coup.


ISLA NEGRA, CHILE
Chilean forensic experts exhumed the body of Nobel laureate Pablo Neruda on Monday, trying to solve a four-decade mystery about the death of one the greatest poets of the 20th century.


The official version is that that the poet died from prostate cancer and the trauma of witnessing the 1973 military coup that led to the persecution and killing of many of his friends. But his driver and many other Chileans say Neruda was murdered by agents of Gen. Augusto Pinochet's brutal dictatorship.
Experts were concerned that high salinity and humidity could affect the exhumation at Neruda's home in Isla Negra, a rocky outcropping overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
But Patricio Bustos, head of Chile's medical legal service, said Neruda's casket is in good shape after the one-hour exhumation. After draping Neruda's coffin in the Chilean national flag, forensics workers took his remains to the capital for tests. They could also be analyzed abroad and Bustos said they have offers from labs in the United States and Europe.
"After we take a look at our lab, following the biomedical safety measures and with total vigilance, we will be able to set a timeline for the process," Bustos told reporters.
"The most complex part will be searching for toxic substances that could not only be classic poisons, but also, according to testimonies, could be medical substances at very high doses to harm the poet."
Neruda, who won the Nobel prize for literature in 1971, was best known for romantic verses, especially the collection "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair." He was also a leftist diplomat and close friend of socialist President Santiago Allende, who committed suicide rather than surrender to troops during the Sept. 11, 1973 coup led by Pinochet.
Neruda planned to go into exile, where he would have been an influential voice against the dictatorship. Just a day before he was scheduled to leave, he was taken by ambulance to the Santa Maria hospital in Santiago to keep him safe from political persecution.
Officially, Neruda died there on Sept. 23 from natural causes related to the emotional trauma of the coup.
For years, his driver and bodyguard, Manuel Araya has said that the poet was murdered when agents of the dictatorship injected poison into his stomach at the clinic.
"If it hadn't been for that shot Neruda wouldn't have died," Araya said.
"After seeing him being removed from the site, I felt a huge amount of pain because I lived the 24 hours with Neruda before his death. It took a long time, but justice has been served."
Former President Eduardo Frei Montalva died at the same clinic nine years later. Although doctors listed the cause of his 1982 death as septic shock from stomach hernia surgery, an investigation almost three decades later showed that the vocal opponent of the Pinochet regime had been slowly poisoned to death.
The exhumation was approved by Judge Mario Carroza on a request by Chile's Communist Party. It was attended by the driver and one of Neruda's four nephews.
"It was an emotional moment that reached our very fibers," said Rodolfo Reyes, one of Neruda's nephews.
"It's very important that the truth is known and the eyes of the world are set on this new investigation."



GREAT LOVE POEMS BY PABLO NERUDA

If You Forget Me


I want you to know
one thing.


You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.


Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you, little by little.


If suddenly
you forget me,
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.


If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.


But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.



I do not love you...


I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.


I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.


I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.



I Like for You to be Still


I like for you to be still:
it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away
and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.


As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things,
filled with my soul.
You are like my soul,
a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.


I like for you to be still
and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting,
a butterly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come down to be still in your silence.


And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night,
with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star,
as remote and candid.


I like for you to be still:
it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy,
happy that it's not true.



Tonight I Can Write...


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write for example, "The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."


The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her,
and sometimes she loved me too.


Through nights like this one, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.


She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her.
To feel that I have lost her.


To hear the immense night,
still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.


What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered
and she is not with me.


This is all.
In the distance someone is singing.
In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.


My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her,
and she is not with me.


The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.


I no longer love her, that's certain,
but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.


Another's. She will be another's.
Like my kisses before.
Her bright body.
Her infinite eyes.


I no longer love her, that's certain,
but maybe I love her.
Love is so short,
forgetting is so long.


Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.


Thought this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.



Love


Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers
I ache from the perfumes of spring.


I have forgotten your face,
I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?


Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.


I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.


Like a flower to its perfume,
I am bound to my vague memory of you.
I live with pain that is like a wound;
if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.


Your caresses enfold me,
like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love,
yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.


Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitates desires:
shooting stars and falling objects.



I crave your mouth...


I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.


I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.


I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,


and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.



Don't go far off...


Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it:
a day is long and I will be waiting for you,
as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else,
asleep.


Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home
will drift into me, choking my lost heart.


Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,


because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?



Maybe you'll remember...


Maybe you'll remember that razor-faced man
who slipped out from the dark like a blade
and -- before we realized -- knew what was there:
he saw the smoke and concluded fire.


The pallid woman with black hair
rose like a fish from the abyss,
and the two of them built up a contraption,
armed to the teeth, against love.


Man and woman, they felled mountains and gardens,
they went down to the river, they scaled the walls,
they hoisted their atrocious artillery up the hill.


Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way.



You will remember...


You will remember that leaping stream 
where sweet aromas rose and trembled, 
and sometimes a bird, wearing water 
and slowness, its winter feathers. 


You will remember those gifts from the earth: 
indelible scents, gold clay, 
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots, 
magical thorns like swords. 


You'll remember the bouquet you picked, 
shadows and silent water, 
bouquet like a foam-covered stone. 


That time was like never, and like always. 
So we go there, where nothing is waiting; 
we find everything waiting there. 

Monday, April 8, 2013

Bird Lives! A One Man Play directed by Tommy Hicks

Marvin X speaks on Black Theatre at University of California, Merced, May 30,2013

Marvin X will discuss his plays Flowers for the Trashman and One Day in the Life. Flowers for the Trashman was produced by the Drama Department at San Francisco State University, 1965, while he was an undergrad.
One Day in the Life is a docudrama of his addiction and recovery from Crack, 1996. It includes his last meeting with Black Panther co-founder Huey P. Newton in a West Oakland Crack house. Ishmael Reed says, "One Day in the Life is the most powerful drama I've seen!"


Sunday, April 7, 2013

See Black Fire for the early writings of Marvin X and the Black Arts Movement literary figures




Book Description

April 5, 2007  1574780395  978-1574780390
The defining work of the Black Arts Movement, Black Fire is at once a rich anthology and an extraordinary source document. Nearly 200 selections, including poetry, essays, short stories, and plays, from over 75 cultural critics, writers, and political leaders, capture the social and cultural turmoil of the 1960s. In his new introduction, Amiri Baraka reflects nearly four decades later on both the movement and the book.






488 pp., 6.125 x 9.25, 7 illus., appends., notes, bibl., index
John Hope Franklin Series in African American History and Culture
Cloth
ISBN  978-0-8078-2934-9
Published: May 2005

Paper
ISBN  978-0-8078-5598-0
Published: May 2005
Literary Nationalism in the 1960s and 1970s
James Edward Smethurst

Awards & Distinctions
2006 James A. Rawley Prize, Organization of American Historians
A 2005 Choice Outstanding Academic Title
Emerging from a matrix of Old Left, black nationalist, and bohemian ideologies and institutions, African American artists and intellectuals in the 1960s coalesced to form the Black Arts Movement, the cultural wing of the Black Power Movement. In this comprehensive analysis, James Smethurst examines the formation of the Black Arts Movement and demonstrates how it deeply influenced the production and reception of literature and art in the United States through its negotiations of the ideological climate of the Cold War, decolonization, and the civil rights movement.
Taking a regional approach, Smethurst examines local expressions of the nascent Black Arts Movement, a movement distinctive in its geographical reach and diversity, while always keeping the frame of the larger movement in view. The Black Arts Movement, he argues, fundamentally changed American attitudes about the relationship between popular culture and "high" art and dramatically transformed the landscape of public funding for the arts.

About the Author

James Edward Smethurst is associate professor of Afro-American studies at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. He is author of The New Red Negro: The Literary Left and African American Poetry, 1930-1946 and coeditor of Left of the Color Line: Race, Radicalism, and Twentieth-Century Literature of the United States.


Reviews

"A richly insightful and informative account of the often occluded racial dynamics of early modernism."
--Journal of American Studies
"The most comprehensive work published to date on the Black Arts Movement, painstakingly detailing the movement's national thrust. . . . This book is a monumental achievement and will serve as the definitive text on the movement for some time to come."
--Journal of African American History
"Smethurst… has written a tour-de-force that will quickly become the definitive analysis of the sprawling and internally contradictory entity known as the Black Arts movement."
--Against the Current
"Mapping important connections and offering a cornucopia of information, The Black Arts Movement: Literary Nationalism in the 1960s and 1970s is a truly valuable contribution to the study of American letters. Smethurst gets it right! His thorough research and astute analysis overcome two decades of deliberate critical misrepresentation to help us examine a tumultuous era when visionary leadership and nationwide grassroots participation created a dynamic, paradigm-changing cultural renaissance."--Lorenzo Thomas, University of Houston-Downtown
"A momentous and singular contribution to the study of literary ethnic nationalism in particular, and post-World War II cultural history in general. Anyone interested in United States culture and politics in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s will be drawn to The Black Arts Movement as a chronicle, survey, and fabulous reference."--Alan Wald, University of Michigan


Somethin' Proper

The Life and Times of a North American African Poet


Marvin X (Marvin E. Jackmon) [El Muhajir]. Somethin' Proper: The Life and Times of a North American African Poet. Castro Valley, CA: Black Bird P, 1998. 278 pp. $29.95.
Marvin X's autobiography Somethin' Proper is one of the most significant works to come out of the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s and 1970s. It tells the story of perhaps the most important African American Muslim poet to appear in the United States during the Civil Rights era. The book opens with an introduction by scholar Nathan Hare, a key figure in the Black Studies Movement of the period. Marvin X then takes center stage with an exploration of his life's story, juxtaposed with the rapidly changing events and movements of contemporary history: the Civil Rights Movement, the Black Arts 

Autobiography/ African American culture. In this autobiography, Marvin X, the first North American African Islamic poet to achieve international recognition for his poetry and plays tells the story, "of the black consciousness movement and the world of the troubled inner city" (from Nathan Hare's Introduction). His work has been compared to that of Franz Fanon and LeRoi Jones. "Somethin' Proper works: writers should tell our history, that's our job" -- Amiri Baraka. "Through the poetry of Marvin X, I became conscious of my own ethnicity" -- Janice Mirikitani. 278pp. Black Bird Press


Marvin X (b. 1944), poet, playwright, essayist, director, and lecturer. Marvin Ellis Jackmon was born on 29 May 1944 in Fowler, California. He attended high school in Fresno and received a BA and MA in English from San Francisco State College (now San Francisco State University). The mid-1960s were formative years for Jackmon. He became involved in theater, founded his own press, published several plays and volumes of poetry, and became increasingly alienated because of racism and the Vietnam War. Under the influence of Elijah Muhammad, he became a Black Muslim and has published since then under the names El Muhajir and Marvin X. He has also used the name Nazzam al Fitnah Muhajir.

Marvin X and Ed Bullins founded the Black Arts/West Theatre in San Francisco in 1966, and several of his plays were staged during that period in San Francisco, Oakland, New York, and by local companies across the United States. His one-act play Flowers for the Trashman was staged in San Francisco in 1965 and was included in the anthology Black Fire (1968); a musical version, Take Care of Business, was produced in 1971. The play presents the confrontation between two cellmates in a jail—one a young African American college student, the other a middle-aged white man. Another one-act play, The Black Bird, a Black Muslim allegory in which a young man offers lessons in life awareness to two small girls, appeared in 1969 and was included in New Plays from the Black Theatre that year. Several other plays, including The Trial, Resurrection of the Dead, and In the Name of Love, have been successfully staged, and Marvin X has remained an important advocate of African American theater.

In 1967, Marvin X was convicted, during the Vietnam War, for refusing induction and fled to Canada; eventually he was arrested in Honduras, was returned to the United States, and was sentenced to five months in prison. In his statement on being sentenced—later reprinted in Black Scholar (1971) and also in Clyde Taylor's anthology,Vietnam and Black America (1973)—he argues that
Any judge, any jury, is guilty of insanity that would have the nerve to judge and convict and imprison a black man because he did not appear in a courtroom on a charge of refusing to commit crimes against humanity, crimes against his own brothers and sisters, the peace-loving people of Vietnam.


Marvin X founded El Kitab Sudan publishing house in 1967; several of his books of poetry and proverbs have been published there. Much of Marvin X's poetry is militant in its anger at American racism and injustice. For example, in “Did You Vote Nigger?” he uses rough dialect and directs his irony at African Americans who believe in the government but are actually its pawns. Many of the proverbs in The Son of Man (1969) express alienation from white America. However, many of Marvin X's proverbs and poems express more concern with what African Americans can do positively for themselves, without being paralyzed by hatred. He insists that the answer is to concentrate on establishing a racial identity and to “understand that art is celebration of Allah.” The poems in Fly to Allah, Black Man Listen (1969), and other volumes from his El Kitab Sudan press are characterized by their intensity and their message of racial unity under a religious banner.

Marvin X has remained active as a lecturer, teacher, theatrical producer, editor, and exponent of Islam. His work in advocating racial cohesion and religious dedication as an antidote to the legacy of racism he saw around him in the 1960s and 1970s made him an important voice of his generation.
Bibliography
  • Lorenzo Thomas, “Marvin X,” in DLBvol. 38Afro-American Writers after 1955: Dramatists and Prose Writers, eds. Thadious Davis and Trudier Harris, 1985, pp. 177–184.
  • Bernard L. Peterson, Jr., “Marvin X,” in Contemporary Black American Playwrights and Their Plays, 1988, pp. 332–333. “El Muhajir,” in CAvol. 26, eds. Hal May and James G. Lesniak, 1989, pp. 132–133
Michael E. Greene


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