TEXT

Barracoon
Zora Neale Hurston finished her first book entitled Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black
Cargo” in the spring of 1931, but it wasn’t published until 2018, decades after her death.

By Zora Neale Hurston

Tier 2 terms: open, found, ingenious, hailed, enameled, fashioned, halted, in spite of, recent, gleaming, goodwill,
wretched, weeping, contritely, anguish, captive, temporized, faired, managed, muted, regretted, murmured
Tier 3 terms: well, pipe
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It was summer when I went to talk with Cudjo. So, his door was standing wide
open. But I knew he was somewhere about the house before I entered the yard
because I had found the gate unlocked. When Cudjo goes down into his back
field or away from home he locks his gate with an ingenious wooden peg of
African invention. I hailed him by his African name as I walked up the steps to
his porch. And he looked up into my face as I stood in the door in surprise. He
was eating his breakfast from a round enameled pan with his hand. In the
fashion of his fatherland. The surprise of seeing me halted his hand between
pan and face. Then tears of joy welled up.

"Oh, Lord, I knew it. You called my name. Nobody don't call my name from
across the water but you. You always calling me Kazoola just like I in the
African soil."

I noted that another man sat eating with him. And I wondered why. So, I said,
"I see you have company Kazoola."

"Yeah, I got to have somebody stay with me. I been sick in the bed the five
month. I needed somebody to hand me some water. So, I take this man and he
sleep here and take care Cudjo. But I getting well now."

In spite of the recent illness and the fact that his well had fallen in I found
Cudjo Louis full of gleaming good will. His garden was planted. There was deep
shade under his China Berry tree, and all was well. He wanted to know a few
things about New York. And when I had answered him, he sat silently smoking.
Finally, I told him I had come to talk with him. He removed his pipe from his
mouth and smiled.

"I don't care," he said. "Like I have company come see me."

And the smile faded into a wretched weeping mask. "I so lonely. My wife she
left me since the 1908. Cudjo all my hisself."

After a minute or two he remembered me and said contritely, "Excuse me. You
didn't do nothing to me. Cudjo feels so lonely he can't help he cry sometimes.
What you want with me?"

"First I want to ask you how you feel today." Another muted silence then he
said, "I thank god I own praying ground. And in a bible country."

"But didn't you have a god back in Africa," I asked him.

His head dropped between his hands and the tears sprung fresh. Seeing the
anguish in his face, I regretted that I had come to worry this captive in a strange
land. He read my face and said, "Excuse me. I cry. I can't help it when I hear the
name call. Oh lord, I don't see Africa soil no more."

Another long silence. Then "How come you asked me if we had no god back
there in Africi?"

"Because you said thank god you were on praying ground and in a bible
country."

"Yeah, in Africi we always know there was a god. He named Allahuah. But poor
Africans, we can't read the bible. So, we don't know god. God is son. We ain't
ignorant. We just don't know. Nobody don't tell us about Adam eated the apple.
We didn't know the seven seas were silly gangsters. Our parents don't tell us
that. They didn't tell us about the first days. No. That's right. We just don't
know. So that what you come asking me."

I temporized. "Well, yes. I wanted to ask that, but I want to ask you many
things. I want to know who you are and how you came to be a slave and to what
part of Africa do you belong? And how you faired as a slave and how you have
managed as a free man?"

Again his head was bowed for a time. When he lifted his wet face again, he
murmured, "Thank you Jesus. Somebody come ask about Cudjo. I won't tell a
somebody who I is. So maybe they go in to Africa somebody and calling my
 name and somebody dare say yeah, I know Kazoola. I want you everywhere you
go to tell everybody what Cudjo say. And how come I in America so since the
1859 and never see my people no more. I can't talk it plain. You understand me.
But I calls it word by word for you so it won't be too crooked for you."

Source: https://soundcloud.com/harperaudio_us/barracoon-by-zora-neale-hurston

TEXT DEPENDENT QUESTIONS

1. Question: Why does Hurston call Cudjo by his African name? How does
he react and what does this tell us?

2. Question: Read from, “In spite of recent illness...” to “’What do you want
with me?’” Using evidence from the text, describe Cudjo’s range of emotions.
What does this range of emotions tell us about him?

3. Question: The writer references Cudjo’s freedom, but also says, “Seeing
the anguish in his face, I regretted that I had come to worry this captive in a
strange land.” Why does she call him a “captive” if he is a free man?

4. Question: What effect does the use of Cudjo’s dialect have on the
excerpt?