Portland Observer. September 17.1981 Page 7
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Recently the Watcher returned to
(he scene. He was so subtle in his ap
proach that his presence went unob
served by most. Nevertheless the
Watcher began his vigil, his eyes fo
cusing on the various happenings on
the prison yard. H is in v is ib ility
greatly im proved the post he had
taken up to observe the brothers en
gaged in a game o f dominoes. Their
laughter was fu ll— so catchingly in
fectious that even the W a tc h e r’ s
eyes gleamed in the m errim ent o f
the m om ent. The dominoes were
shuffled with the dexterity o f a Las
Vegas dealer, as one p a rtic u la rly
dark-skinned brother watched in
tently. ’ ’ Get some and leave some
but get enough to last y o u ,” was
chanted by a big red brother, as the
dominoes quickly disappeared into
the hands o f the players.
Thus began another day on the
prison recreation yard and the
Watcher was contented in his vigil.
Dominoes is the game o f Blacks
on the Big Yard. They play it seri
ously and it seems to provide them
w ith some sort o f release as they
playfully shuck and jive (heir way
through hand after hand. But many
a friendship has ended at the ta b le -
heads have been busted and lives
have been threatened during a ses
sion at the domino table.
As the game proceeded the
W atcher became aware o f another
watching the players. The other
watcher was a prison guard who
seemed to be mesmerized by the
banter and jesting o f the p a rtic i
pants. He was literally transfixed—
caught up in the play and a smile
around the corners o f his m outh.
Soon he became aware o f the
W atcher and (heir eyes met for a
brief moment in recognition. It was
apparent to the Watcher that the o f
ficer did not fully understand what
was happening between them or at
the domino table. He observed the
W atcher as being just another
brother on the sidelines o f the game
and he saw the game in terms o f pri
son recreation or so it seemed to the
W atcher. But through the eyes o f
the W atcher the game was an age-
old ritual o f "laughing to keep from
crying.”
W ith every turn o f em otion the
officer's face changed. At one point
he was on the verge o f interrupting
the game as two brothers fiercely ar
gued over a particular play.
Suddenly the Watcher understood
(hat the officer had probably never
witnessed Blacks in this particular
ritu a l. T h at he had never been as
close to Black people as he was at
that very moment. They were laugh
ing and jiv in g and this reinforced
something inside o f him — his sense
o f security oozed from him. He ac
tu a lly believed that these people
were happy and his role as overseer
was strengthened, as he stood and
watched their em otions color the
situation. He couldn’t see their frus
tration. . .their anger and pain was
hidden from his view. To him they
were just a group o f Blacks enjoying
a game o f dominoes.
It can 't be disputed that they
weren’ t enjoying themselves. But
the point is that it was a false song
they sung, it had no melody and the
beat wasn’t constant or fluid. They
were just filling time, "laughing to
keep from crying.”
I t ’ s d ifficult to say whether any
body present clearly understood
their actions or the implications in
volved. The brothers gave no
thought to being viewed as happily
contented inmates because they
were practicing the art o f survival.
Yes, their survival depended on
th e ir a b ility to laugh, to jiv e , to
cool-walk through a maze o f prison
days and nights. I f they didn’t they
would have to confront the reality
o f their confinement.
Many o f us, both outside and in
side these walls spend our time sur
viving through our laughter. We
d o n 't want to see the roaches and
rats that in h ab it our homes. W e
don't want to see the bars and walls
that block out the sun. W c d o n 't
want to see our overseers and the
way they smile when we smile. Our
lives are so harsh that the least bit o f
laughter that escapes from our
m ouths is able to soothe us. O u r
laughter drugs us, it debilitates us to
the point where we have become
afraid to face our circumstances.
O n the streets when things get
tough we go to the c lu b — behind
these walls when things get tough we
go to the d om ino table. There is
nothing wrong with recreation but it
shouldn't be used as a source o f es
caping our responsibilities. It must
not drug us or m ake us d ru n k, it
should renew us, strengthen us for
the struggle to come. The society we
live in has had us laughing when we
should have been screaming our in
dignation. W e’ve been laughing and
our laughter doesn’t even belong to
us— it belongs to the people who
laugh when we laugh. The good-
times are upon us, w e’ ve become
passive and domesticated when we
should have become as aggressive as
the people who oppress us.
The only laughter that should
exist in Black people's lives is the
laughter o f plotting. We must plot
and scheme like old Nat Turner, we
must not laugh our way into another
300 years o f servitude. Remember
that somebody is watching you and
recording your laughter with cynical
affirmation.
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