57-8). Baldwin’s definition of joy is framed by his lament
of our collective separation from our bodies, our desires,
our senses. The image of Americans consuming tasteless
bread evokes both our loss of pleasure in something as
fundamental and nourishing as breaking bread together
as well as the bland, lifeless communion both within and
beyond the church walls.
Written four years earlier in 1959, Lorraine Hansberry’s
A Raisin in the Sun prefigures much of the turmoil of the
1960s to which The Fire Next Time refers. Hansberry’s
drama demonstrates both her revolutionary spirit that
stemmed from her personal experience and her gift as a
playwright to animate a wide range of Black characters
never before seen on stage. I read the play’s most powerful
expressions of protest not in the moments of anguish, but in
moments of family connection and delight.
One such moment occurs at the beginning of Act II, when
Walter and Beneatha, whose tense sibling relationship
has already been established, “play African.” Beneatha
is wearing Nigerian robes that her African suitor Asagai
has brought from his homeland, dancing to Nigerian
music, and chanting. (Hansberry 76). Moved by his
sister’s performance, Walter enters and participates in the
celebration of a royal African past:
WALTER. Me and Jomo. . . . (Intently, in his sister’s
face. She has stopped dancing to watch him in this
unknown mood) That’s my man, Kenyatta. (Shouting
and thumping his chest) FLAMING SPEAR!
HOT DAMN! (He is suddenly in possession of an
imaginary spear and actively spearing enemies all
over the room) OCOMOGOSIAY. . . .
BENEATHA. (To encourage Walter, thoroughly
caught up in this side of him) OCOMOGOSIAY,
FLAMING SPEAR!
WALTER. THE LION IS WAKING. . . .
OWIMOWEH! (He pulls his shirt open and leaps up
on the table and gestures with his spear)
BENEATHA. OWIMOWEH!
WALTER. (on the table, very far gone, his eyes
pure glass sheets. He sees what we cannot, that he
is a leader of his people, a great chief, a descendant
12
african Voices
of Chaka, and that the hour to march has come)
Listen, my black brothers—
BENEATHA. OCOMOGOSIAY!
(Hansberry 78-9).
Part of the humor of this scene lies in their ignorance:
Walter and Beneatha, like most African-Americans at the
time, knew little of African people, history, or culture.
As bombastic as the scene is, Hansberry also underscores
the deep pleasure that Walter and Beneatha experience,
validating the release through d