Forty Acres

by Dwayne Alexander Smith

“Let me ask you a hypothetical question. Let’s say you owned a truck and a crook stole it. If that crook is caught years later, would you feel that he owed you anything?” “Sure,” Martin said. “He’d owe me a truck.” “Now,” Solomon went on, “what if you couldn’t afford another truck? What if the loss of that truck resulted in you and your family living in poverty, while, at the same time, that crook used that stolen truck to make his family wealthy? When this crook is caught, does he still owe you just a truck?”

Martin couldn’t deny that Solomon’s argument stirred something inside him. An uneasiness that felt almost like fear. As if he was being forced to confront some terrible suppressed memory that he’d kept walled off for his entire life.

Martin also noticed that Dr. Kasim never asked any of the men about their wives, and the men never mentioned them . . . except once. When Tobias, very relaxed after several glasses of wine, mentioned his wife’s opinion about their son’s college choice, Dr. Kasim interrupted by clearing his throat. The sound was loud and pointed. Tobias realized his mistake and promptly apologized.

The misogyny with these men is so absolute as to be childish. nOGurLzALloWed!

“The screams of our ancestors haunt every black man’s soul,” Dr. Kasim said, with sorrow in his voice, “a constant reminder that the white man not only conquered our forefathers but robbed them of their humanity. And because of this burden of shame and humiliation, deep down every man of African descent, no matter how rich or powerful, harbors a poisonous seed of doubt that he is truly equal to the white man. Even worse, a fear of the white man.”