The Nigger Factory. Gil Scott-Heron

      

      this book is dedicated to:

      Sister Jackie Brown

       Brother Victor Brown

       Brother David Barnes

       Brother Brian Jackson

       Brother Eddie Knowles

       and

       Brother Charlie Saunders

       whom I met on the assembly line

Contents

      1 Seven p.m. Phone Call

      2 MJUMBE

      3 Earl

      4 Lawman and Odds

      5 Confrontation

      6 The Plan

      7 O’Jay’s

      8 The Head Nigger

      9 Wheels in Motion

      10 Angie

      11 Calhoun’s Assessment

      12 Preparation

      13 Evaluation

      14 Ten O’clock Meeting

      15 Captain Cool

      16 Executive Conference

      17 High Noon

      18 MJUMBE Mandate

      19 A Three-pronged Spear

      20 Self-help Programs

      21 Reactor

      22 Counterthreat

      23 Choosing Sides

      24 On the Spot

      25 Calhoun Moves

      26 Lying in Wait

      27 The House on Pine Street

      28 Destruction

      29 Plans Abandoned

      30 Final Word

      31 Faculty Only

      32 Exodus

      33 Explosion!

      34 MJUMBE Discovery

      35 Downhill Snowball

      Author’s Note

      Black colleges and universities have been both a blessing and a curse on Black people. The institutions have educated thousands of our people who would have never had the opportunity to get an education otherwise. They have supplied for many a new sense of dignity and integrity. They have never, however, made anybody equal. This is a reality for Black educators everywhere as students all over America demonstrate for change.

      It has been said time and time again that the media makes the world we live in a much smaller place. It is no longer possible to attend Obscure University and be completely out of touch with the racist system that continues to oppress our brothers and sisters all over the country. Black institutions of higher learning can no longer be considered as wombs of security when all occupants realize that we are locked in the jaws of a beast.

      Change is overdue. Fantasies about the American Dream are now recognized by Black people as hoaxes and people are tired of trying to become a part of something that deprives them of the necessities of life even after years of bogus study in preparation for this union. A college diploma is not a ticket on the Freedom Train. It is, at best, an opportunity to learn more about the systems that control life and destroy life: an opportunity to cut through the hypocrisy and illusion that America represents.

      New educational aspects must be discovered. Our educators must sit down and really evaluate the grading system that perpetuates academic dishonesty. The center of our intellectual attention must be thrust away from Greek, Western thought toward Eastern and Third World thought. Our examples in the arts must be Black and not white. Our natural creativity must be cultivated.

      The main trouble in higher education lies in the fact that while the times have changed radically, educators and administrators have continued to plod along through the bureaucratic red tape that stalls so much American progress. We have once again been caught short while imitating the white boy. While knowledge accumulates at a startling pace our institutions are content to produce quasi-white folks and semithinkers whose total response is trained rather than felt.

      Black students in the 1970s will not be satisfied with Bullshit Degrees or Nigger Educations. They are aware of the hypocrisy and indoctrination and are searching for other alternatives. With the help of those educators who are intelligent enough to recognize the need for drastic reconstruction there will be a new era of Black thought and Black thinkers who enter the working world from colleges aware of the real problems that will face them and not believing that a piece of paper will claim a niche for them in the society-at-large. The education process will not whitewash them into thinking that their troubles are over. They will come out as Black people.

Wednesday Night

       1

       Seven p.m. Phone Call

      Earl Thomas was wiping shaving cream from under his chin when the telephone rang. He waited, thinking that his neighbor Zeke might answer, but when he heard a second shrill jingling he opened the bathroom door and released the receiver from its holster.

      ‘Earl Thomas,’ he announced.

      ‘Thomas?’ A bass voice boomed. ‘This is Ben King. I called cuz I wanned t’tell you ’bout this meetin’ we had dis afternoon wit’ the studen’s.’

      ‘Meetin’? What meetin’?’ Earl asked. He was afraid that he already knew the answer to the question.

      ‘MJUMBE had a meetin’ wit’ the studen’s this afternoon ’bout fo’ thutty. We had drew up some deman’s fo’ Head Nigger Calhoun an’ we had t’fin’ out ’bout hi the people felt ’bout things … I called you befo’ but I got a bizzy signal.’

      ‘Zeke,’ Earl muttered.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Nuthin’.’

      ‘Anyway,’ King continued, ‘I wuz callin’ befo’ cuz we were gonna like confer wit’choo befo’ we handed the shit to the Man, but when I couldn’ get’choo we cut out over t’the Plantation,’ King laughed. ‘Calhoun wudn’ home so I called agin.’

      ‘Yeah …’

      ‘We figgered you might wanna be in-volved,’ King added.

      The sarcasm that dripped through the receiver as King slowly drawled his way through the monologue was beginning to grate on Earl’s nerves. Something very screwy was going on; something that Earl felt an immediate need to pinpoint. But too many ideas were dashing through his head. There was no real way to slow down the thoughts that were turning him into a huge knot. What were the demands? Why hadn’t he heard anything from anyone? Faster and faster the questions came, obscuring the words King breathed slowly through the telephone.

      ‘What did you say?’ Earl asked. ‘I missed that last part.’

      ‘I ast you hi long it’s gon’ take you to git down here.’

      ‘Down where?’

      ‘Well, we in the frat house on the third flo’.’ King said.

      ‘I guess I can be there in ’bout twenny minnits,’ Earl calculated.

      ‘Right on!’ King laughed. ‘We’ll be waitin’!’

      The call was terminated. Earl felt for the first time the beads of sweat that had been sprung loose