Eggun? Oggun? Somebody's callin'....

Hearing/seeing this gives me chills every time, and I find tears in my eyes every time....My people, my people is all I can think. This scene/song encompasses the soul of many a Black man in my opinion, even today. An entire history, an entire experience and an archetype is in these few minutes... The degree of oppression, where you dare not speak, cry, scream your pain or terror or longing but must instead sing it, choke it down and twist it until it comes out your throat a laugh instead. We are a laughing people, joking jokes about what's not funny at all. In literature, I personally feel Toni Morrison illustrates it best, especially in Song of Solomon and a bit in Beloveed (damn Oprah to hell for that triflin film adaptation of it, pure blasphemous parody)....

There is something romantic about that railroad man, that chain gang lost lover, that steel driver. John Henry or Oggun?

...ME might know what I mean...