Читать книгу The Last Poets - Christine Otten - Страница 28

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AKRON, OHIO, 1967

Omar Ben Hassen

‘I can’t bring myself to say it, Jerome,’ Mama said. ‘Not in my own house.’

‘Try.’

‘What’s it mean?’

‘Dunno.’

‘So are you a Black Muslim now?’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Sure sounds like it.’

‘It sounds nice.’

‘What does Reggie say?’

‘You know Reggie.’

‘He wouldn’t go changing his name like that. I can just see his mother’s face.’

‘Huling’s a slave name, Mama.’

‘And your family name.’

‘Daddy’s name.’

‘Oh, Jerome.’

‘Omar.’

‘For me you’ll always be Jerome.’