If I Were A Voice

If I were a voice, a persuasive voice,

That could travel the wide world through,
I would fly on the beams of the morning light,
And speak to men with a gentle might,
And tell them to be true.
Id fly, Id fly, oer land and sea,
Wherever a human heart might be,
Telling a tale, or singing a song,
In praise of the right in blame of the wrong.
II.
If I were a voice, a consoling voice,
Id fly on the wings of air,
The homes of Sorrow and Guilt Id seek,
And calm and truthful words Id speak
To save them from Despair.
Id fly, Id fly, oer the crowded town,
And drop, like the happy sun-light, down
Into the hearts of suffering men,
And teach them to rejoice again.
III.
If I were a voice, a convincing voice,
Id travel with the wind,
And whenever I saw the nations torn
By warfare, jealousy, or scorn,
If I were a voice, a convincing voice,
I d travel with the wind,
And whenever I saw the nations torn
By warfare, jealousy, or scorn,
Or hatred of their kind,
Id fly, Id fly, on the thunder-crash,
And into their blinded bosoms flash;
And, all their evil thoughts subdued,
Id teach them Christian Brotherhood.
IV.
If I were a voice, a pervading voice,
Id seek the kings of Earth;
Id find them alone on their beds at night
And whisper words that should guide them right
Lessons of priceless worth;
Id fly more swift than the swiftest bird,
And tell them things they never heard
Truths which the ages for aye repeat
Unknown to the statesmen at their feet.
V.
If I were a voice, an immortal voice,
Id speak in the peoples ear;
And whenever they shouted Liberty,
Without deserving to be free,
Id make their error clear.
Id fly, Id fly, on the wings of day,
Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way,
And making all the Earth rejoice-
If I were a voice-an immortal voice.
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Speech Choir: REVERSE CREATION by
Bernard Backman
MAR 14
Posted by jhonerliz
In the end, we destroyed the heaven that was called Earth.
The Earth had been beautiful until our spirit movedover it and destroyed all things.And we saidLet there
be darkness and there was darkness. And we liked the darkness; so we called the
darkness, Security.And we divided ourselves into races and religions and classes of society. And there
was no morning and noevening on the seventh day before the end.
And we said
Let there be a strong government to control us in our darkness. Let there be armies to control our bodies
so thatwe may learn to kill one another neatly and efficiently in our darkness. And there was no evening
and nomorning on the sixth day before the end.
And we said
Let there be rockets and bombs to kill faster and easier; let there be gas chambers and furnaces to
be morethorough. And there was no evening and no morning on the fifth day before the end.And we
saidLet there be drugs and other forms of escape, for there is this constant annoyance Reality
which is disturbingour comfort. And there was no evening and no morning on the fourth day before the
end.
And we said
Let there be divisions among the nations, so that we may know who is our common enemy. And
there was noevening and no morning on the third day before the end.
And finally we said
Let us create God in our image. Let some other God compete with us. Let us say that God thinks as we
think,hates as we hate, and kills as we kill. And there was no morning and no evening on the second day
before theend.
On the last day, there was a great noise on the face of the Earth. Fire consumed the beautiful globe, and
therewas silence. The blackened Earth now rested to worship the one true God; and God saw all that we
had done,and in the silence over the smoldering ruins God wept.
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Speech Choir: The Congo: BY VACHEL LINDSAY
MAR 14
Posted by jhonerliz
I. Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,
Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,
Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,
Pounded on the table,
Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,
Hard as they were able,
Boom, boom, BOOM,
With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.
THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.
I could not turn from their revel in derision.
THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,
CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.
Then along that riverbank
A thousand miles
Tattooed cannibals danced in files;
Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song
And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong.
And BLOOD screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors,
BLOOD screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors,
Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle,
Harry the uplands,
Steal all the cattle,
Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle,
Bing.
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,
A roaring, epic, rag-time tune
From the mouth of the Congo
To the Mountains of the Moon.
Death is an Elephant,
Torch-eyed and horrible,
Foam-flanked and terrible.
BOOM, steal the pygmies,
BOOM, kill the Arabs,
BOOM, kill the white men,
HOO, HOO, HOO.
Listen to the yell of Leopolds ghost
Burning in Hell for his hand-maimed host.
Hear how the demons chuckle and yell
Cutting his hands off, down in Hell.
Listen to the creepy proclamation,
Blown through the lairs of the forest-nation,
Blown past the white-ants hill of clay,
Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play:
Be careful what you do,
Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,
And all of the other
Gods of the Congo,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
II.
Wild crap-shooters with a whoop and a call
Danced the juba in their gambling-hall
And laughed fit to kill, and shook the town,
And guyed the policemen and laughed them down
With a boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.
THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,
CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.
A negro fairyland swung into view,
A minstrel river
Where dreams come true.
The ebony palace soared on high
Through the blossoming trees to the evening sky.
The inlaid porches and casements shone
With gold and ivory and elephant-bone.
And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore
At the baboon butler in the agate door,
And the well-known tunes of the parrot band
That trilled on the bushes of that magic land.
A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came
Through the agate doorway in suits of flame,
Yea, long-tailed coats with a gold-leaf crust
And hats that were covered with diamond-dust.
And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call
And danced the juba from wall to wall.
But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng
With a stern cold glare, and a stern old song:
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes,
Came the cake-walk princes in their long red coats,
Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine,
And tall silk hats that were red as wine.
And they pranced with their butterfly partners there,
Coal-black maidens with pearls in their hair,
Knee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet,
And bells on their ankles and little black-feet.
And the couples railed at the chant and the frown
Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them down.
(O rare was the revel, and well worth while
That made those glowering witch-men smile.)
The cake-walk royalty then began
To walk for a cake that was tall as a man
To the tune of Boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,
While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air,
And sang with the scalawags prancing there:
Walk with care, walk with care,
Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,
And all the other
Gods of the Congo,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
Beware, beware, walk with care,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay,
BOOM.
Oh rare was the revel, and well worth while
That made those glowering witch-men smile.
III.
A good old negro in the slums of the town
Preached at a sister for her velvet gown.
Howled at a brother for his low-down ways,
His prowling, guzzling, sneak-thief days.
Beat on the Bible till he wore it out
Starting the jubilee revival shout.
And some had visions, as they stood on chairs,
And sang of Jacob, and the golden stairs,
And they all repented, a thousand strong
From their stupor and savagery and sin and wrong
And slammed with their hymn books till they shook the room
With glory, glory, glory,
And Boom, boom, BOOM.
THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,
CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.
And the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil
And showed the Apostles with their coats of mail.
In bright white steel they were seated round
And their fire-eyes watched where the Congo wound.
And the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high
Thrilled all the forest with their heavenly cry:
Mumbo-Jumbo will die in the jungle;
Never again will he hoo-doo you,
Never again will he hoo-doo you.
Then along that river, a thousand miles
The vine-snared trees fell down in files.
Pioneer angels cleared the way
For a Congo paradise, for babes at play,
For sacred capitals, for temples clean.
Gone were the skull-faced witch-men lean.
There, where the wild ghost-gods had wailed
A million boats of the angels sailed
With oars of silver, and prows of blue
And silken pennants that the sun shone through.
Twas a land transfigured, twas a new creation.
Oh, a singing wind swept the negro nation
And on through the backwoods clearing flew:
Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle.
Never again will he hoo-doo you.
Never again will he hoo-doo you.
Redeemed were the forests, the beasts and the men,
And only the vulture dared again
By the far, lone mountains of the moon
To cry, in the silence, the Congo tune:
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
Mumbo Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
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Declamation Piece- I Demand Death
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
My hands are wet with blood. They are crimsoned with the blood of a man I have just killed.
I have come here today to confess. I have committed murder, deliberate, premeditated murder. I
have killed a man in cold blood. That man is my master.
I am here not to ask for pity but for justice. Simple, elementary justice. I am a tenant My father
was a tenant before me and so was his father before him. This misery is my inheritance and perhaps
this will be my legacy to my children.
I have labored on a patch of land not mine. But I have learned to love that land, for it is the only thing
that lies between me and complete destitution.
It is the only world that I have learned to cherish. And somewhere on that land I have managed to
build what is now the dilapidated nipa shack that has been home to me.
I have but a few world possessions, mostly rags. My debts are heavy. They are sum total of my
ignorance and the inspired arithmetic of my master, which I do not understand.
I labor like a slave and out of the fruits of that labor I get but a mere pittance for a share. And I have
to stretch that mere pittance to keep myself and my family alive.
My poverty has reduced me to the bare necessities of life. And the constant fear of rejection from the
land has made me totally subservient to my master. You tell me that under the constitution, I am a
free man-free to do what I believe is just, free to do what I think is right, and free to worship God
according to the dictate of my conscience. But I do not understand the meaning of all these for I
have never known freedom. I have always obeyed the wishes of my master out of fear. I have
always regarded myself as no better than a slave to the man who owns the land on which I live. I do
not ask you to forgive me nor to mitigate my crime. I have taken the law into my own hands, and I
must pay for it in atonement.
But kill this system. Kill this system and you kill despotism. Kill this system and you kill slavery. Kill
this despotism and you set the human soul to liberty and freedom. Kill this slavery and you release
the human spirit into happiness and contentment. For the cause of human liberty, of human
happiness and contentment, thousands and even millions have died and will continue to die.
Mine is only one life. Take me if you must but let it be a sacrifice to the cause which countless
others have been given before and will be given again and again, until the oppressive economic
system has completely perished, until the sons of toil have been liberated from enslavement, and
until man has been fully restored to decency and self respect.
You tell me of the right to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But I have known no rights,
only obligations; I have known no happiness; only despair in the encumbered existence that has
always been my lot.
My dear friend, I am a peace-loving citizen. I have nothing but love for my fellowmen. And yet, why
did I kill this man? It is because he was the symbol of an economic system which has made him and
me what we are: He, a master, and I, a slave.
Out of a deliberate design I killed him because I could no longer stand this life of constant fear and
being a servant. I could no longer suffer the thought of being perpetually a slave.
I committed the murder as an abject lesson. I want to blow that spelled the death of my master to be
a death blow to the institution of the economic slavery which shamelessly exists in the bright sunlight
of freedom that is guaranteed by the constitution to every man. My dear friend: I do anguish from
the weak and helpless and has laid upon the back of the ignorant labor burdens that are too heavy
to be borne, I demand death!
To this callous system of exploitation that has tightened the fetters of perpetual bondage in the
hands of thousands, and has killed the spirit of freedom in the hearts of men, I demand death.
To this oppression that has denied liberty to the free and unbounded children of God, I DEMAND
DEATH!
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Declamation Piece- The Face Upon the Floor (author:
Hugh Antoine DArcy)
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
Twas a balmy summer evening and a goodly crowd was there,
Which well-nigh filled Joes barroom, on the corner of the square;
And as songs and witty stories Came through the open door,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.
Where did it come from? someone said. The wind has blown it in.
What does it want? another cried. Some whiskey, or rum or gin?
Here, Toby, sic em, if your stomachs equal to the work
I wouldnt touch him with a fork, hes filthy as a Turk.
This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace;
In fact, he smiled as tho he thought hed struck the proper place.
Come, boys, I know theres kindly hearts among so good a crowd
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud.
Give me a drinkthats what I want Im out of funds, you know,
When I had cash to treat the gang this hand was never slow.
What? You laugh as if you thought this pocket never held a sou;
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you.
There, thanks, thats braced me nicely, God bless you one and all;
Next time I pass this good saloon, Ill make another call.
Give you a song? No, I cant do that, my singing days are past;
My voice is cracked, my throats worn out and my lungs are going fast.
Ill tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too.
Say! Give me another whiskey and Ill tell you what Ill do
That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think;
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink.
Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame
Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably tame;
Five fingers there, thats the scheme and corking whiskey, too.
Well, heres luck, boys and landlord my best regards to you.
Youve treated me pretty kindly and Id like to tell you true
How I came to be the dirty sot, you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame, and health,
And but for a blunder ought to have made, considerable wealth.
I was a painter, not one that daubed on bricks and wood,
But an artist, and for my age, was rated pretty good.
I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes.
I made a picture perhaps youve seen, tis called the Chase of Fame.
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name,
And then I met a woman now comes the funny part
With eyes that petrified my brain and sunk into my heart.
Why dont you laugh? tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me;
But twas so, and for a month or two, her smiles were freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine, it carried me to Heaven.
Boys, did you ever see a girl for whom your soul youd give,
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor and a wealth of chestnut hair?
If so, twas she, for there never was, another half so fair.
I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way.
And Madeline admired it and much to my surprise,
Said shed like to know the man, that had such dreamy eyes.
It didnt take long to know him and before the month had flown
My friend had stole my darling, and I was left alone;
And ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished and was dead.
Thats why I took to drink, boys. why, I never see you smile,
I thought youd be amused and laughing all the while.
Why, whats the matter, friend? theres a tear-drop in your eye,
Come, laugh like me tis only babes and women that should cry.
Say, boys, if you give me just another whiskey Ill be glad,
And Ill draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad.
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score
You shall see the lovely Madeline upon the barroom floor.
Another drink, and with chalk in hand, the vagabond began
To sketch a face that well might buy, the soul of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture dead!
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Declamation Piece- Conscience
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears cant bring back my sister to life. My being brought here by my
conscience. I want to ask forgiveness. But can she still hear? O heart, forgive me for what I have
done, please bring peace to mind.
Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to freshen my memories that her life perished because
of my selfishness.
She was my only sister. Since our childhood, I always believed that I was the favorite of our
dad. One night, while I was facing all about to the mirror, with my micro mini, I puffed powder, when
I saw Luisas face, reflecting in the mirror. You cant get out tonight, Lucille. I heard a threatening
tone from her. I turned to her, but I cant resist at her sharp stare at me. And who says so, my dear
sister? We are to celebrate Mommas death anniversary, you know that dont you? In a relaxed
and condescending voice, I replied well I dont care. Im going out to party tonight!
Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted Help Papa! for I knew that it was he. I pulled my hair,
I tore my dress away as I was attacked by a squad of monstrous creatures. When the door opened
the site Papa saw was that Luisa was holding my neck who was trying to make a rescue. But I cried
so hard that made Papa grew to the height of anger. He threw Luisa to the corner, where the head
of my poor sister was hit at the edge of the chair.
I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful revenge. But when she lifted, I saw a different sparkle
in her tearful eyes. Ha ha ha ha ha! O my, Luisa, she went out of her mind. I was not able to
move, as well as Papa. Both of us were motionless. And before we returned to our senses, Luisa
ran to the door and proceeded to the open gate of our house. We followed her calling out her
name. Luisa! Sister! Luisa Sister Luisa the Truck! Dont cross the road, Luisa, the truck
dont Dont DONT!
The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown five meters away from the truck. I ran to her and
embraced her. Blood was all over her face. In a low but distinct voice she murmured, that made my
heart break so much. She said, Lucille, please be a good girl. I love you. Please be a good girl
coz Papa loves you very much.
Luisa? Luisa? Sister sister!!! From that moment I cried so hard for killing my only sister, who
loved and cared for me, even at the last moment of her life.
Now can you blame me, for asking God to forgive me? Forgive me dear God, Forgive me!
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Declamation Piece- Murderess
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
Its already twelve oclock. Oh, God, Im hungry! Ive been running and hiding for almost three days.
Im dead tired. I need some rest. But no, they are looking for me! And if they find me, I will be put to
jail. But, where can I hide? Leos father is so influential, so powerful. He is the governor of our great
province and I happened to kill his son!
No, dont accuse me like that! Im not a murderess! Hear me, Im begging you, I tell you Im not a
murderess.
Audience, let me explain, please.
Okay, okay, okay! It all happened in school one day. I went to the library to find a book. Then I found
it. I got so engrossed to what I was reading that I almost didnt notice the time. It was gone past six
and, oh my! I think I was the only student left in the library. To my dismay, Leo was waiting for me
outside. I wanted to hide but it was too late. He was already in front of me.
Hi, Brenda! Can I drive you home?
I shook my head irritatingly. My God, how I hate him! He often sends me scented love letters in pink
stationery which I sent back all unopened. He sends me roses and chocolates, too. They are my
favorites. I wanted so much to eat the chocolates, but I hate the person who gave them. So I throw
them into the trash. How could I ever get away from this guy?
Hey, Leo, wait a minute! If you want to drive me home, thanks, but no thanks! Im old enough to go
home on my own, okay? So, please stop following me like a dog! And besides, Im too young for
love and I dont accept any suitors, understand?
But, Brenda, I love you! Cant you understand? I can give you anything you want. Say it and youll
have it. And, Brenda, remember, I can get everything I want by hook or crook. So youd better be
good to me or else. Ha ha ha!
And he started laughing like a monster. I got so scared. I know how powerful his family was, but I still
insisted, Leo, how can you be such a jerk? I dont like you and I dont love you. In fact, I hate you!
Now, will you leave me alone?
But instead of leaving, do you know what he did? He pushed me so hard against the wall and started
kissing me. I was shouting for help, but no, no one was there!
Somebody, help me, please! Please, please! Help! Help!
Then he gave me a big, big punch on my stomach. Oh my God! It was painful!
But even before he reached for me again, I spotted a rusty knife and grabbed it.
Now, Mr. Leo Monteverde, try to kiss me again, attempt to rape me again, and I will never ever
forgive you! Go to hell! Um um ummm!
I didnt know how many times I pushed the rusty knife in his body. Then I noticed something. Blood,
blood theres a blood on my hands!
Leo, Leo! Oh, God! I killed Leo! No, Im not a murderess! He was going to rape me and I just
defended myself. I didnt mean to do it, Im not a murderess! Im not a murderess! But I killed Leo!
I killed him! Im a murderess! Ha! Ha! Im a murderess! Ha! Ha! Ha!
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Tags: love letters, murderess
Declamation Piece- Despair of Judas
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
I will rest here, awhile. His face! His face! Not comely now. There is no beauty in it. It is scarred into
my heart. It is burned into my soul and never will it lift from me until I die. Die? Will death quench the
flames which consume me? Traitor, not endless years in hell can even pay the crime of murdering
the son of God.
And last night, he dealt with me so gently. He washed my feet. He bade me to put my hand into the
cup with his, while in my purse there jingled the coins which bought his blood. It was better for that
man that he had never been born. Who? Who but I, who but I, I who betrayed him!
What you do, do it quickly. He knew, and kept my sin a secret.
Friend, where unto have you come, Judas, Judas, do you betray the Son of God with a kiss?
Friend! Friend! He called me his friend. The man I betrayed called me his friend. How hell must have
laughed. Why did not the mountains fall on me?
Why did not the earth gape and swallow me up? Why did not the sea overwhelm me? Friend. Ha!
Ha! Friend. Ha! Ha! Ha! The world will know Judas as the friend.
The world will point to Judas as a by word, and as a pledge of broken faith!
Do you think Judas you can hide from the father of your friend Jesus? Not even in hell can I escape.
Not in the grave for the earth will spurn my corpse. Not in the heavens for Jesus the friend is there.
What hope for Judas? What hope for Judas? Not even in hell can I escape for he called me devil,
and devils cried out: torment us not, Jesus, Judas, faithless friend, devil, one of whom it would have
been better not to have been born.
There is no hope for you, no hope, no hope
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Tags: broken faith, religion
Declamation Piece- Dirty Hands by John P. Delaney S.J.
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
Im proud of my dirty hands. Yes, they are dirty. And they are rough and knobby and calloused. And
Im proud of the dirt and the knobs and the callouses. I didnt get them that way by playing bridge or
drinking afternoon tea out of dainty cups, or playing the well-advertised Good Samaritan at charity
balls.
I got them that way by working with them, and Im proud of the work and the dirt. Why shouldnt I feel
proud od the work they do these dirty hands of mine?
My hands are the hands of plumbers, of truck drivers and street cleaners; of carpenters; engineers,
machinists and workers in steel. They are not pretty hands, they are dirty and knobby and calloused.
But they are strong hands, hands that make so much that the world must have or die.
Someday, I think, the world should go down on its knees and kiss all the dirty hands of the working
world, as in the days long past, armored knights would kiss the hands of ladies fair. Im proud of my
dirty hands. The world has kissed such hands. The world will always kiss such hands. Men and
women put reverent lips to the hands of Him who held the hammer and the saw and the plane.
His werent pretty hands either when they chopped trees, dragged rough lumber, and wielded
carpenters tools. They were workingmans hands strong, capable proud hands. And werent pretty
hands when the executioners got through them. They were torn right clean through by ugly nails,
and the blood was running from them, and the edges of the wounds were raw and dirty and swollen;
and the joints were crooked and the fingers were horribly bent in a mute appeal for love.
They werent pretty hands then, but, O God, they were beautiful those hands of the Savior. Im
proud of those dirty hands, hands of my Savior, hands of God.
And Im proud of my hands too, dirty hands, like the hands of my Savior, the Hands of my God!
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Declamation Piece- Land of Bondage, Land of the Free
JUN 1
Posted by jhonerliz
Once upon a time, the tao owned a piece of land. It was all he owned. But he cherished it, for it gave
him three things, having which, he was content: life, first of all, and liberty, and happiness.
Then one day the Spaniard came and commanded him to pay tribute to the crown of Spain. The tao
paid tribute. And he was silent he was certain that he was still the master of his land.
The Spaniard became rich. But with riches, evil entered into him and he came to the tao a second
time. He read to the tao a formidable document saying: According to this decreto real, which
unfortunately you cannot read, this that you have been paying me is not tribute but rent, for the land
is not yours but mine. The tao paid tribute and said nothing He ceased to be a freeman. He
became a serf. Still the tao held his peace. The rent went up and up. The tao starved.
And this time at last he spoke. Not in words, but with that rustic instrument with which he cleared the
land once his own the bolo. He transformed it from an instrument of tillage to an instrument of
death, and with it drove away the stranger. Then he returned to his field saying: Now indeed shall I
again be master of this land, once my own, but stolen from me by the trickery of quicker wits than
mine.
But the tao was wrong. For the land had another master. This time not a stranger, but his own
countryman grown rich. The tao had a new name, kasama, which to us means partner, but which to
the tao meant still a slave, for once more he suffered from his countrymen the same things he had
suffered from the stranger: the rents, the usury, and all the rest of it.
Yes, the tao returned to his field thinking that he was free. But he soon discovered that he was still a
prisoner. His prison, a two-room shack, rent by every wind, without any comforts, except that three
families have there the privilege to starve. The taos home has become his very prison. Its doors, if
you can call them such, are wide open. It is a prison nonetheless. For the tao is bound to it, not with
chains of steel, but with a stronger chain his honor. To this day, the tao remains a slave, a
prisoner of the usurer.
No wonder, then that tao, being a slave, has acquired the habits of a slave. No wonder that after
three centuries in chains, without freedom, without hope, he should lose the erect and fearless
posture of the freeman, and become the bent, misshapen, indolent, vicious, pitiful thing that he is!
Who dares accuse him, who dares rise up in judgement against this man, reduced to this sub-
human level by three centuries of oppression. The tao does not come here tonight to be judged
but to judge! Hear then his accusation and his sentence:
I indict the Spanish encomendero for inventing taxes impossible to bear.
I indict the usurer for saddling me with debts impossible to pay.
I indict the irresponsible radical leaders who undermine, with insidious eloquence, the confidence of
my kind in our government.
You accuse me of not supporting my family. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.
You accuse me of ignorance. But I am ignorant because my master finds it profitable to keep me
ignorant. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.
You accuse me of indolence. But I am indolent not because I have no will, but because I have no
hope. Why should I labor, if all the fruits of my labor go to pay an unpayable debt. Free me from
bondage, and I shall prove you false.
Give me land. Land to own. Land unbeholden to any tyrant. Land that will be free. Give me land for I
am starving. Give me land that my children may not die. Sell it to me, sell it to me at a fair price, as
one freeman sells to another and not as a usurer sells to a slave. I am poor, but I will pay it! I will
work, work until I fall from weariness for my privilege, for my inalienable right to be free!
BUT IF YOU WILL NOT GRANT ME THIS If you will not grant me this last request, this ultimate
demand, then build a wall around your home build it high! build it strong! Place a sentry on
every parapet! for I who have been silent these three hundred years will come in the night when
you are feasting, with my cry and my bolo at your door. And may God have mercy on your soul!
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