NOW WHAT WE GONE DO, IS GO WAY BACK...
In no particular order, here is my list for the must-have LPs of all time. If you have these, you are at least 32, actually wore Chuck Taylors and remember when kids could play outside without a trouble in the world "until the street lights came on."
The 25 Essential Old-Head Albums List
1. Tenderlover by Babyface
In my mind, this is the ultimate party album. Dance, grind, cool down, cuddle—it’s got it all. Added to that, almost every cut was a (certified) hit; even inspired me to write a screenplay. Babyface’s sophomore solo project after leaving the Deele, there is everything on here. Sir Face even had the nerve to put new meaning and new life into the phrase, “Whip Appeal,” particularly as it pertains to a woman’s affect on a man. And the lyrics of the other cuts like “Sunshine,” have in the dictionary under the definition “smooth (“…maybe we should settle down and raise a family, a girl for you and maybe a boy for me”).” Was Babyface laying rap or what? I even had to let my teen-age son know that the words to “My Kind of Girl” might come in handy some day.
2. Head Hunters by Herbie Hancock
No Grammys for this one, but it is a party pleaser for shore. “Chameleon,” recognizable almost within the first four notes, is the longest R & B, jazz hit to date. And while the creepy album cover (the Herb-ster at the piano with a weird mask that looked like a radio over his face) gave me a nightmare or two, it was still one of the most played LPs in our house.
3. Rapture by Anita Baker
Although her sophomore project, there was no real pressure for Ms. Baker on this one. First, she belonged to the group Chapter 8. One hit, the group folded and Anita went solo, with Songstress. A few cuts from the album did well especially “Angel”; the momentum died and Anita couldn’t get a hit even if she was Reggie Jackson in October. Legend has it that no one would sign her; record execs advised, “go back to your day job.” She returned to being a secretary...for a little while. Somehow, she got back in the studio. When “Sweet Love” hit the airwaves, it was a breath of fresh air; I remember hearing it on WBLS in NYC...in stereo. Within a few short months, I’m sure Anita crossed her arms, jerked her neck, sucked her teeth and said, “Damn a day job.”
4. Funky Divas by EnVogue
What a title…what a project! It is what makes it so hard to believe that this group is gone and never coming back. Listening to Terry, Cindy, Maxine and Dawn get ready backstage (singing the "bumblebee warm-up," no less) and the in-studio girl chat at the beginning of “Give It Up, Turn It Loose,” is priceless. But the hook for me was their rendition of the Beatles “Yesterday.” When Donnie Simpson described this particular cut during an interview with the group on Video Soul (back in the day, baby), I had no money. By the end of the week, I had scrapped together enough funds to purchase the cassette; still have it and cannot bear to part with it.
5. Promise by Sade
Dance, marathon lovemaking, or kicking back with a bottle of wine–Sade proves versatile. Whatever your mood, whatever you want... she has your back.
6. Who? by Tony, Toni, Tone!
What? When? Where? In the late 80's, these Oaktown cats were laying down the sounds on an ultimate party album...west coast style. With churchy rhythms and preachy lyrics to match (“something’s gonna get you little Walter,” “money, have my own, drugs, don’t indulge, sex, have the right person...”), the message in the music will live on forever. The love songs on this project, while not well-received, would serve as preludes to ballads on future TTT albums.
7. Purple Rain Soundtrack by Prince & The Revolution
The autobiographical film about the purple genius was hot and this soundtrack even hotter. From the title track to “Let’s Go Crazy,” “Take Me With U,” “Darlin’ Nikki,” “When Doves Cry” and “I Would Die 4 U,” his royal badness gave it all he had and then some.
8. Life, Love and Pain by Club Nouveau
Initially, this album’s single “Jealousy” gave the off the “one-hit-wonder” vibe. Then “Lean On Me,” a remake of Bill Withers’ 1972 classic dropped. This certified jam required a double-take at this project, produced by Denny Foster and Thomas McElroy (the Denny and Tommy who would mold and present EnVogue four years later). The bad thing, though, is that "LOM" was played to death; I was absolutely sick of it a year later when my fellow recruits in basic training adopted this song as our unofficial theme. Other cuts got some play (“Situation #9,” “Why You Treat Me So Bad”). Still, the group would have just more hit—“Frances,” off their next album and then disappear.
9. Take 6 by Take 6
Even Aretha never made “Mary Don’t You Weep,” sound like this. These a cappella brothers put the get-down back in Gospel. Sadly, with member changes and too much commercialism, they could never capture the same spirit that they did on their debut. A few hits on a couple of soundtracks and collaborative pieces is the best we have heard from them to date.
10. The Best of Earth, Wind & Fire, Volume 1 by Earth, Wind & Fire
It is hard to pick just one album by “the Elements.” They are all so dang good. But, but…this one has all of the hits on it, plus “Reasons.” ‘Nuff said.
11. Simple Pleasures by Bobby McFerrin
From the moment I heard and saw the video for “Don’t Worry Be Happy,” I pegged Sir McFerrin as another cheese-eating Negro who had “crossed over” with this pacifying, subservient song. Yet at the time of Mr. McFerrin’s popularity, circa when he did the theme for The Cosby Show, I was dating a brother who was a bit more open-minded. My beloved challenged me to listen to the entire album. Sha-zam! Still can’t stand “DWBH,” but the rest of the cuts, mainly remakes, are pure works of art. I play SP on long road trips and pray that I do not get a ticket as I get caught up.
12. Stevie Wonder’s Original Musiqarium I by Stevie Wonder
The title is Stevie-ism for “this is my ‘Best of, Part 1.'”
13. The Great Adventures of Slick Rick by Slick Rick
Though very little of this album can be played on the air, “Hey Young World,” and “Children’s Story” are favorites among young and old heads. The latter, I might add, written back in’88, has lyrics which bear an eerily close resemblance to Atlanta courthouse shooter Brian Nicholas’ actions some 16 years later (Slick Rick...a prophet?).
14. Hot, Cool and Viscous by Salt ‘n Pepa
They are truly the First Ladies of Rap. Yeah, Ladies Love James…but Salt 'n Pepa made rap super-dooper sexy. And they did it with tight spandex, fly hair-dos, modest make-up, some major gyrating-slash-booty-shaking, catchy rhymes and skill. Stress on the latter because unlike some other lady rappers, they would not have gotten far without it.
15. The Real Chukee-boo by Loose Ends
Tell me something...why is it so cold on the airwaves nowadays? No Loose Ends! This group burned up the charts so bad they just had to go away. Intimately poetic, preachy, passionate and oh so powerful lyrics over electronic earthy beats made you feel that they were talking to you and group of close friends (“there’s no gratitude...even the birds in the sky, must touch the ground. And what goes up must surely come down.”)
16. Introducing the Hard Line According to Terence Trent D'Arby by Terence Trent D’Arby
This album makes the list for two reasons. First, I truly love it. Second, I got dogged by folks about listing Mr. D’Arby as a one hit wonder. Well, this album was indeed his only hit LP to date…so? Nevertheless, he laid it down on "If You Let Me Stay," “Dance Little Sister,” “Who’s Lovin’ You (remake of the Jackson 5 classic),” “Wishing Well,” and of course, "Sign Your Name." He tossed around his unmistakable soul pitch, totally in sync with his braids and fly dance moves. Alas, however, Mr. D’arby’s alleged trash talking about Prince and arrogant tendencies may have jinxed him.
17. Graceland by Paul Simon
Despite the over-the-top video with Chevy Chase, and teaming up with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Paul Simon’s heart of gold shines through on this piece of work. He is both transparent and artistic. It is difficult to enjoy without almost catching the Holy Ghost.
18. Back on the Block by Quincy Jones
Have to be brutally honest, not a huge fan of Sir Q because he never actually sings on his albums. Still, one absolutely, positively has to give him props because he produces magic with almost everyone he works with. This project had some of ‘erbody on it. More importantly, it was, I believe, Mr. Jones’ first foray into hip-hop. Added to that, it introduced Tevin Campbell plus gave us the “unofficial” theme for African-American weddings (“Septembro”). And there are plenty of kids 16 and under who have “Secret Garden” to thank for their existence.
19. Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack by the Bee Gees and Various Artists
The Bee Gees lyrics, John Travolta’s moves, the time (mid-70's), the place (Brooklyn)...forget about it!
20. The Wiz Soundtrack by Various Artists
Though the movie was a box office flop, the music is classic and has never been duplicated, sampled or anything of the like (...yet; keep your fingers crossed that some snot-nosed “rapper” does not come along and ruin a good thing). Michael Jackson sings “You Can’t Win” as if he really has the Man’s foot on his neck (hey, maybe that man was Joe Jackson). Then of course, there is Nipsey Russell’s ambiguous, “Slide Some Oil To Me,” and the mostly instrumental theme at the Emerald City medley (“You’ve Got To Be Seen In Green, You’ve Got To Be Seen In Red, Gold”). Yes, Diana Ross was way too old to play Dorothy, but she rocks on “Can’t You Feel A Brand New Day/Everyone Rejoice (written by Luthor Vandross)" and “Ease On Down The Road.”
21. Don’t Be Cruel by Bobby Brown
Another sophomore project that knocked everyone out of their socks. Produced by Teddy Riley and Babyface Edmonds, Bobby came strong with the club crowd pleasers (title track, "My Prerogative," "Ev’ry Little Step") and the ballads ("Roni," "Rock Wit Cha'"). He even created the “Bobby Brown” push-up; for those who don’t know, try to catch the video…
22. Family Reunion by The O’Jays
Before LA Reid & Babyface, Denny & Terry, or Jimmy and (the other) Terry, there were producers Gamble & Huff. Though they are now both deceased, they live on via songs they created for the O’Jays. This project has a little something for everybody. Family song (“Reunion”), get ready for the party (“Livin’ For the Weekend”), party (“I Love Music”) and “you sure are looking fine…(“Stairway To Heaven”).” As Bernie Mac says on his show, “Let’s move on.”
23. Rhythm Nation by Janet Jackson
No doubt in anybody’s mind that Morris Day kicking Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam out of The Time was the best thing that happened to the dynamic duo. How else would they have been able to “be there” to “Control” Ms. Jackson and then for this follow-up smash? But besides the funky dance cuts (title track, “Escapade,” “All Right”) and love songs that are borderline stalker themes (“Miss You Much,” “Love Will Never Do” and “Come Back To Me”), Ms. Jackson expressed true concern for the youth. Although not a hit, “Livin’ In A World (They Did Not Make),” spoke directly to the tragedy lower-income and children of color had been witnessing long before mainstream media deemed it newsworthy: shootings. At the time of this album’s release, Janet was partnered with then Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell encouraging literacy among young people. My firm believe is that if she would have earnestly continued this campaign, no one would have given a damn about her exposing herself on national television; hell, it probably would not have even happened.
24. On The Radio (Greatest Hits Volume 1 & 2) by Donna Summer
Toot-toot, hey, beep-beep! Say what? Donna does the damn thing and more. "Love To Love You Baby," "Dim All The Lights," "I Feel Love"…Keisha Coles, Lil’ Kim, Mariah and them need to take notes on how to get a man in the mood.
25. Claudine Soundtrack by Gladys Knight and the Pips (produced by Curtis Mayfield)
Here is another album with cuts to fit any mood. Feeling blue? “To Be Invisible.” Got a man who is loving you right and you just cannot get enough of his ass? “On and On.” Feeling bound by the ‘man’? “Mr. Welfare.” Think your man is cheating? “Hold On.” Or, how about if you are just happy for no dang reason? “Make Yours A Happy Home,” and “Claudine’s Theme.”
Honorable Mention
Faith by George Michael
“...sex is natural, sex is fun. Not everybody does it, but everybody should.” This is what my impressionable teen-age mind heard blaring through radios and saw on television screens back in ‘88 thanks to Mr. Severely-Perverted-though-we-didn’t-know-how-bad-at-the-time Michael. Still, hits from this one makes it a must have.
Too Hot To Handle by Heatwave
The lyrics to the modern day slow jams ain’t squat compared to this group’s words of adornment. Even New Edition’s “Can You Stand The Rain,” cannot truly compete with “Always And Forever.”
Guy by Guy
Jam...oh, jam. And jam for us, Teddy did. That is all we wanted to do. Have block parties, go to clubs, sit on the steps outside the house, plug in our walkmans, turn on our MTV and JAM. If hip-hop were a religion, these guys would be the founders, ushers, deacon board and ministers of music.
C’est Chic by Chic
There are quite a few songs that say, “disco,” or “club scene in the late ‘70s.” Some may actually put you in the time and place. “Le Freak” suits you up in the clothes and styles your hair from the second you hear, “Awww, freak out!”
Colonel Abrams by Colonel Abrams
Folks outside of NYC may not know this cat. He is a classic one-hit-wonder...but with style and house-ism finesse. Born in Detroit, but raised in New York City, the Colonel (reportedly his name from birth), had ‘em jumping on the dance floor with “Trapped.” While the rest of the project did not make it to the charts, many a block party DJ rocked “Not Gonna Let,” and a few other cuts to nastify their scratches.
Still Bill by Bill Withers
The voice, the lyrics, the simple yet solid beats. Young heads must take note and give respect to the message in the music that has classic cut-to-the-chase, get-to-the-point lines such as, “who is he and what is he to you?
Heresay by Alexander O’Neal
If you look up the term “southern-style funk” in the dictionary of R & B, there is a picture of Alexander O’Neal. Mississippi-born and probably cornbread fed, “Fake,” “Sunshine,” and “Never Knew Love Like This,” proved that talent is not just restricted to L.A., Georgia, New York, Detroit or Chi-town.
Candy Girl by New Edition
This album only scratches the surface of what these cats could do. Their debut, this album is innocent, hopeful and still a good listen.
Affair by Cherelle
Produced by Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam, sister girl threw down on this album for no damn reason.
Paid In Full by Eric B. & Rakim
Block party, club, block party, backyard barbecues, block party, gym jams, block party. Consider the style of these cats to be first cousins to EPMD and Public Enemy, but the lyrics are strictly about being cool.
Pronounced Jah-Nay by Zhane
No comments...just a question. Where in the ham sandwich are these two sisters?
26 May 2006
MORE OR LESS...
Was talking with a co-worker the other day and the subject of street names came up. We specifically discussed roads that have been renamed in honor of civil rights leaders. My associate became intrigued when while during our conversation on another subject, I referenced a street named for a 1960's general for justice, but only called the thoroughfare by the honoree's last name. Now, I must mention here that this co-worker is of the caucasian persuassion and grew up in the North.
They seemed shocked that I simply said, "Lowery," and not "Rev. Joseph L. Lowery Boulevard." Most people, especially Blacks, tend to say the entire name as it is so named. Never really thought of my shortcuts as sacrilige, or anything of the like. Still, I wonder how other folks feel. It is wrong to simply say, "MLK," "Abernathy," "Parks," or "X"? Does it in any way take away from the meaning or momentum behind the renaming, recognition of their sacrifice, and dedication of the street in their honor? Is it disrepectful?
Was talking with a co-worker the other day and the subject of street names came up. We specifically discussed roads that have been renamed in honor of civil rights leaders. My associate became intrigued when while during our conversation on another subject, I referenced a street named for a 1960's general for justice, but only called the thoroughfare by the honoree's last name. Now, I must mention here that this co-worker is of the caucasian persuassion and grew up in the North.
They seemed shocked that I simply said, "Lowery," and not "Rev. Joseph L. Lowery Boulevard." Most people, especially Blacks, tend to say the entire name as it is so named. Never really thought of my shortcuts as sacrilige, or anything of the like. Still, I wonder how other folks feel. It is wrong to simply say, "MLK," "Abernathy," "Parks," or "X"? Does it in any way take away from the meaning or momentum behind the renaming, recognition of their sacrifice, and dedication of the street in their honor? Is it disrepectful?
04 May 2006
FINALLY
(Spoilers. If you are an E.R. fan, missed a few of the last episodes from Season 12 and plan to watch them at a later date, you may not want to read the following).
Avid fan of E.R. Been watching since mid-way through its first season. A few years ago, the shows producers decided to change the scenery from Chicago to Africa. Not the beautiful coasts that we dream of, along with other utopic like images that playfully and forever occupy our minds. No, first one doctor, Luka Kovac, who is Croatian and used to war in his own homeland, went to war-torn Africa in an attempt to heal some personal pain. Soon, another doctor, John Carter, also having some "issues," followed. He, too, is white. As I watched the plot lines unfold from week to week and, eventually, from season to season, I thought, "Damn, are they only letting white folk into Africa?"
Then, four episodes before the Season 12 finale, it happens: a Brother from the "fictional" hospital set in Chicago's inner city would go to Darfur. Ironically, he is sent by the person who began the whole thing: Kovac. Luka wanted to return (to Africa) himself, but with a baby on the way, his girl told him, "Hell, no. You ain't going no where." But somebody had to go. Carter, who worked at County General for several years, was now in Africa semi-permanently and needed help.
While trying to "right the wrongs" of this world, Pratt made a serious error in judgement. In an honest attempt to keep a kid out of foster care, he rigged the blood test of an alcoholic father, named Darnell. Darnell's very impressionable teenage son volunteers at the hospital and has stayed out of trouble since he got the gig. Pratt figured that the Darnell going to jail would mess things up.
But Darnell continues to drive drunk, almost killing someone. When Pratt realizes what Darnell has done, he makes D turn himself in. Still, Pratt was at fault from jump, and has to admit his mistake to Kovac, who is chief of the emergency room. Of course, there is an unofficial suspension. But Pratt still needs to learn the difference between doing the right thing and being responsible. So when Carter asks for Kovac's help in Darfur, Kovac remembers Pratt; Pratt always wants to do what is right. Going to Darfur is right.
On the plane to Africa, Pratt brags to an African native (Erika Alexander) that having worked in Chicago's County General and being Black, this trip will be a piece of cake. Alexander's character very quietly and sharply breaks things down for Dr. Pratt; the countless murders, serious injuries and rapes. The sickness, hunger, and disease.
Towards the end of her description of what he was about to face, the audio moves to a voice-over and we meet up with Greg as he is about to be challenged at customs, by two of Africa's finest. (Note: Great direction by Skipp Sudduth. He "put his foot in it" with regards to moving from scene-to-scene and handling the action within those scenes). Pratt did not speak the language--at all. However, the brothers in customs immediately let him know, "Punk, you cannot pass through here without our approval." Pratt tries to go toe-to-toe with these cats regarding the contents of his luggage. Of particular concern to them is Pratt's seemingly harmless trashy novel they deem "questionable contraband."
The more Pratt argues, the harder time they give him. The scene reminded me of African-Americans who intentionally step on one another. There are those who have "arrived" and claim not to "hear" the side of those who are struggling to get ahead. Then there are those who could benefit from the tough love that Dr. Cosby has been dishing out recently, but are too arrogant to think that "it's them." Either way, it is the same sort of animonsity seen here; senseless and unexplainable. While watching this, the words of author Zora Neale Hurston came to mind, "Everyone who is my skin folk, ain't necessarily my kin folk."
Debbie, Pratt's escort from the representative from the IDP (Internally Displaced Persons), or refugee camp, realizes that he is probably being detained. Cut to the two of them finally leaving customs and Pratt snaps, "You know it would have helped to have someone who speaks English meet me." Her remark (cannot remember what it was at this juncture), simply tells Pratt, "You ain't in Chicago anymore. This here, is Africa."
The ride to the camp proves quite adventurous. Pratt becomes irrated by the native African driver's selection of music: Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe." Next Mr. Arrogant wants to know why there has been no investment in roads. But he would soon come to appreciate the bumpy ride. As they continue, they suddenly, literally, out of nowhere, have company: Janjaweed. These cats are the Bloods, Crips, Klan, and Neo Nazis rolled up into one on crack. Pratt has been the victim of road rage before (Final episode, Season 10). But these guys were on horses and this was not Chicago. There was, to quote the title of this episode, "no where to hide." No side street to turn off onto or building to run inside of; just miles and miles of desert. No bystanders to call the police.
The driver is ordered to stop the vehicle. The Janjaweed assume Pratt is African and try to communicate with him. Once they realize he is "American," they decide to go off on this "cotton-picker" and his friends. They begin to beat the driver; Pratt tries to help and they knock him around a bit, too. In the end, the Janjaweed trash the vehicle, making it inoperable, and take Pratt's shoes. Ironic that Pratt, an African descendant, returns to his Motherland and within a few short hours is challenged by low-level authority figures, gets jacked for his shoes and must now walk barefoot on the road he just moments before criticized. Damn.
When they finally arrive to the camp, the camera zooms up behind Pratt, whose feet by now are severely blistered and perhaps bleeding. As he looks across the valley at the rows and rows of tents, filled with people, he is shocked. Pratt grew up in Chicago and can handle his own in the hood, but this ain't Cabrini Greene. I could almost hear a remixed version of Jermaine Dupree's song "Welcome to Atlanta," in the background. We'll call this one, "Welcome to Darfur..."
But Pratt's day is not over. He gets a lesson on culture when he attempts to give medical attention to a woman who has been raped. Not allowed. He is confused as to why a nurse is helping the victim, who is in major pain and distress, when it is obvious that a doctor is more qualified. He gets a "that's just the way it is" answer from Carter.
Then there is a commotion outside. Abruptly, Gregg is in the midst of a crowd that is beating to death a member of the Janjaweed captured by the men of the camp. But the good Dr. Pratt does not bother to come to this dude's aid. Not because the mob's victim could have been one of the men on the road who robbed and beat him. And not because he didn't want to get involved. But because Greg knows (without anyone telling him) that if he intervenes, the men, some of them just boys, would probably kill him, too. Watching in horror (along with Carter, who has probably seen this sort of thing before, but nonetheless sickened by it), Pratt accepts that "this is just the way it is," in Darfur. The scene ends with a young boy raising a huge rock and violently dropping it on the African gangster's head.
Over two episodes, through different eyes--African-American eyes, viewers saw the realities of what is going down in the Sudan. I cannot say that I am ready to pack my bags and head over there myself. But it was validation that, yes, blacks do in fact give a damn about the murders, rapes, underhanded bullshit and plain idoicy occurring in Darfur. Still, we have some of the same going on right where we are. There is still black on black crime; we still sell drugs to one another. But it doesn't mean we don't know or that we don't care. The same goes for Darfur. We know. We care.
(Spoilers. If you are an E.R. fan, missed a few of the last episodes from Season 12 and plan to watch them at a later date, you may not want to read the following).
Avid fan of E.R. Been watching since mid-way through its first season. A few years ago, the shows producers decided to change the scenery from Chicago to Africa. Not the beautiful coasts that we dream of, along with other utopic like images that playfully and forever occupy our minds. No, first one doctor, Luka Kovac, who is Croatian and used to war in his own homeland, went to war-torn Africa in an attempt to heal some personal pain. Soon, another doctor, John Carter, also having some "issues," followed. He, too, is white. As I watched the plot lines unfold from week to week and, eventually, from season to season, I thought, "Damn, are they only letting white folk into Africa?"
Then, four episodes before the Season 12 finale, it happens: a Brother from the "fictional" hospital set in Chicago's inner city would go to Darfur. Ironically, he is sent by the person who began the whole thing: Kovac. Luka wanted to return (to Africa) himself, but with a baby on the way, his girl told him, "Hell, no. You ain't going no where." But somebody had to go. Carter, who worked at County General for several years, was now in Africa semi-permanently and needed help.
While trying to "right the wrongs" of this world, Pratt made a serious error in judgement. In an honest attempt to keep a kid out of foster care, he rigged the blood test of an alcoholic father, named Darnell. Darnell's very impressionable teenage son volunteers at the hospital and has stayed out of trouble since he got the gig. Pratt figured that the Darnell going to jail would mess things up.
But Darnell continues to drive drunk, almost killing someone. When Pratt realizes what Darnell has done, he makes D turn himself in. Still, Pratt was at fault from jump, and has to admit his mistake to Kovac, who is chief of the emergency room. Of course, there is an unofficial suspension. But Pratt still needs to learn the difference between doing the right thing and being responsible. So when Carter asks for Kovac's help in Darfur, Kovac remembers Pratt; Pratt always wants to do what is right. Going to Darfur is right.
On the plane to Africa, Pratt brags to an African native (Erika Alexander) that having worked in Chicago's County General and being Black, this trip will be a piece of cake. Alexander's character very quietly and sharply breaks things down for Dr. Pratt; the countless murders, serious injuries and rapes. The sickness, hunger, and disease.
Towards the end of her description of what he was about to face, the audio moves to a voice-over and we meet up with Greg as he is about to be challenged at customs, by two of Africa's finest. (Note: Great direction by Skipp Sudduth. He "put his foot in it" with regards to moving from scene-to-scene and handling the action within those scenes). Pratt did not speak the language--at all. However, the brothers in customs immediately let him know, "Punk, you cannot pass through here without our approval." Pratt tries to go toe-to-toe with these cats regarding the contents of his luggage. Of particular concern to them is Pratt's seemingly harmless trashy novel they deem "questionable contraband."
The more Pratt argues, the harder time they give him. The scene reminded me of African-Americans who intentionally step on one another. There are those who have "arrived" and claim not to "hear" the side of those who are struggling to get ahead. Then there are those who could benefit from the tough love that Dr. Cosby has been dishing out recently, but are too arrogant to think that "it's them." Either way, it is the same sort of animonsity seen here; senseless and unexplainable. While watching this, the words of author Zora Neale Hurston came to mind, "Everyone who is my skin folk, ain't necessarily my kin folk."
Debbie, Pratt's escort from the representative from the IDP (Internally Displaced Persons), or refugee camp, realizes that he is probably being detained. Cut to the two of them finally leaving customs and Pratt snaps, "You know it would have helped to have someone who speaks English meet me." Her remark (cannot remember what it was at this juncture), simply tells Pratt, "You ain't in Chicago anymore. This here, is Africa."
The ride to the camp proves quite adventurous. Pratt becomes irrated by the native African driver's selection of music: Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe." Next Mr. Arrogant wants to know why there has been no investment in roads. But he would soon come to appreciate the bumpy ride. As they continue, they suddenly, literally, out of nowhere, have company: Janjaweed. These cats are the Bloods, Crips, Klan, and Neo Nazis rolled up into one on crack. Pratt has been the victim of road rage before (Final episode, Season 10). But these guys were on horses and this was not Chicago. There was, to quote the title of this episode, "no where to hide." No side street to turn off onto or building to run inside of; just miles and miles of desert. No bystanders to call the police.
The driver is ordered to stop the vehicle. The Janjaweed assume Pratt is African and try to communicate with him. Once they realize he is "American," they decide to go off on this "cotton-picker" and his friends. They begin to beat the driver; Pratt tries to help and they knock him around a bit, too. In the end, the Janjaweed trash the vehicle, making it inoperable, and take Pratt's shoes. Ironic that Pratt, an African descendant, returns to his Motherland and within a few short hours is challenged by low-level authority figures, gets jacked for his shoes and must now walk barefoot on the road he just moments before criticized. Damn.
When they finally arrive to the camp, the camera zooms up behind Pratt, whose feet by now are severely blistered and perhaps bleeding. As he looks across the valley at the rows and rows of tents, filled with people, he is shocked. Pratt grew up in Chicago and can handle his own in the hood, but this ain't Cabrini Greene. I could almost hear a remixed version of Jermaine Dupree's song "Welcome to Atlanta," in the background. We'll call this one, "Welcome to Darfur..."But Pratt's day is not over. He gets a lesson on culture when he attempts to give medical attention to a woman who has been raped. Not allowed. He is confused as to why a nurse is helping the victim, who is in major pain and distress, when it is obvious that a doctor is more qualified. He gets a "that's just the way it is" answer from Carter.
Then there is a commotion outside. Abruptly, Gregg is in the midst of a crowd that is beating to death a member of the Janjaweed captured by the men of the camp. But the good Dr. Pratt does not bother to come to this dude's aid. Not because the mob's victim could have been one of the men on the road who robbed and beat him. And not because he didn't want to get involved. But because Greg knows (without anyone telling him) that if he intervenes, the men, some of them just boys, would probably kill him, too. Watching in horror (along with Carter, who has probably seen this sort of thing before, but nonetheless sickened by it), Pratt accepts that "this is just the way it is," in Darfur. The scene ends with a young boy raising a huge rock and violently dropping it on the African gangster's head.
Over two episodes, through different eyes--African-American eyes, viewers saw the realities of what is going down in the Sudan. I cannot say that I am ready to pack my bags and head over there myself. But it was validation that, yes, blacks do in fact give a damn about the murders, rapes, underhanded bullshit and plain idoicy occurring in Darfur. Still, we have some of the same going on right where we are. There is still black on black crime; we still sell drugs to one another. But it doesn't mean we don't know or that we don't care. The same goes for Darfur. We know. We care.
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