Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [171]
“Well, I’s been here longer’n you been born. Wishes back den I could’a knowed sump’n dat I’s learned now. But you still young, so
I tell it to you. Ol’ gran’mammas in you country, dey tell young’uns de stories?” Kunta said that they did. “Den I tell you one. It’s ’bout growin’ up where I come from.
“I ’members how de chief a our Akan peoples use to set in this big chair made outa elephants’ teeth, an’ it was a man always held a umbrella over his head. Den ’longside was de man de chief spoke through. Only way he ever talked, or anybody could talk to him, was through dis man. An’ den a boy set at de chief’s feet. Dis boy stood for de chief’s soul, an’ he run de chief’s messages to de people. Dis boy run wid a thick-bladed sword, so whoever seed ’im comin’ knowed ’zactly who he was. I growed up bein’ dat boy, runnin’ messages ’mongst de peoples. Dat’s how de white mens cotched me.”
Kunta was about to speak when the Ghanaian held up his hand.
“Dat ain’t de end a de story. What I’s gittin’ to, on top of de chief’s umbrella was dis carvin of a hand holdin’ a egg. Dat stood for de care a chief used his powers wid. An’ dat man de chief talked through, he always held a staff. An’ on dat staff a turtle was carved. Turtle stood for dat de key to livin’ is patience.” The Ghanaian paused. “An’ it was a bee carved on de shell a dat turtle. Bee stood for dat nothin’ can’t sting through de turtle’s hard shell.”
In the flickering candlelight of the hut, the Ghanaian paused. “Dis is what I wants to pass on to you, dat I’s learned in de white folks’ land. What you needs most to live here is patience—wid a hard shell.”
In Africa, Kunta was sure, this man would have been a kintango, or an alcala, if not a chief himself. But he didn’t know how to say what he felt, and just sat there without saying anything.
“Look like you got both,” said the Ghanaian finally with a smile. Kunta began to stammer an apology, but his tongue still seemed to be tied. The Ghanaian smiled again, fell silent for a moment himself, then spoke again.
“You Mandinkas spoke of in my country as great travelers an’ traders.” He left the statement in midair, clearly waiting for Kunta to say something.
At last Kunta found his voice. “You heard right. My uncles is travelers. Listenin’ to stories dey used to tell, seem like dey been jus’ ’bout ev’eywhere. Me and my father once, we went to a new village dey done started a long ways from Juffure. I was plannin’ to go to Mecca an’ Timbuktu an’ Mali an’ all like dey done, but I got stole ’fore I had de chance.”
“I knows some ’bout Africa,” said the Ghanaian. “De chief had me teached by de wise men. I ain’t forgot what dey said. An’ I’s tried to put it together wid things I’s heared an’ seed since I been here, an’ I knows dat most of us dats brought here is stole from West Africa—from up roun’ your Gambia all de way down de coast to my Guinea. Is you heared of what white folks calls de ‘Gold Coast’?”
Kunta said that he hadn’t. “Dey named it dat ’count of de gold dere. Dat coast go clear up to de Volta. It’s dat coast where de white folks cotches de Fanti an’ de Ashanti peoples. It’s dem Ashantis dats said to lead most of de uprisins’ an’ revolts when dey’s brought here.
“Spite dat, de white folks pays some of dey biggest prices for dem, ’cause dey’s smart an’ strong an’ dey’s got spirit.
“Den what dey calls de ‘Slave Coast’ is where dey gits de Yorubas an’ Dahomans, an’ roun’ de tip of de Niger dey gits de Ibo.” Kunta said that he had heard the Ibo were a gentle people.
The Ghanaian nodded “I’s heared of thirty Ibos joined hands an’ walked into a river, all singin’, an’ drowned together. Dat was in Lou’siana.”
Kunta was starting to get worried that the massa might be ready to leave and he might keep him waiting, and a moment of silence passed between them. As Kunta’s mind cast about for some topic appropriate to leave on, the Ghanaian said, “Sho ain’t nobody here to set an’ talk wid like us is. Heap a times qua-qua got to say what I got on my mind. Reckon maybe I was talkin’ to you widout knowin’ you was dere.”
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