Vision Circle

One of my neighbors invited my son and I to join he and his two sons on a little camping and fishing excursion this weekend that turned into a much bigger than expected adventure - of the very best possible sort - the kind that teaches life lessons. Friday, we packed up our gear and made a little junket out into the southeastern quarter of kansas and into Leavenworth county. {yeah, home to Ft. Leavenworth, and the U.S. Penitentiary} Turning off 7{73} and onto a country road, we go several miles and into a completely different world, a black farming community with roots stretching back nearly to exodusters and going forward as far as we personally are able to do something to help make it so.

Understand, much of this world is lost, and was lost a long time ago. However, there remain sizeable pockets of black agricultural community which must not fade out of existence - and which I believe - will determine our future collective strength and viability as a people. Holding onto what little remains of our control of the land - and growing that into something new and completely different - is the only sure way for black folks to ensure control over our cultural and political future. Unlike this summer's right of passage for my son - which I regretfully know will never pass this way again - the political right of passage that black folks went through a long time ago, is a right of passage to which we must return with a Work-man-like seriousness.

Singleton's Colony The first of several colonies to be established under the leadership of "Pap" Singleton. Settled in 1874, this successful colony had an initial population of 300 people and was located on 1000 acres near Baxter Springs in Cherokee County. By 1878, the settlement included adequate housing [cabins], livestock and fruit trees to sustain the community. In 1881, the Agricultural and Industrial Institute for the Refugees was founded on 400 acres of land near Columbus and continued to operate until 1885, when it closed due to a lack of funds. Singleton challenged the need for highly educated "political Negroes" stating, "it was the muscle of the arm, the men that Worked, that we wanted."

So friday night, we went fishing, set up camp, and then got rained out of our tents and back into the farmhouse. No, we didn't go soft on the great outdoors, there was actual flash flooding and the boys decided by unanimous decree that they didn't want to be THAT intimate with any more prairie big sky weather. Yesterday morning, my neighbor's mother - came over and prepared a serious farm breakfast - which should've been my clue that we were about to put in some serious work. You see, we'd planned on going to collect some eggs, feed some hogs, and then go do a little more fishing that morning. Well, it didn't quite turn out like that.

Instead, we got to experience a walking the creek adventure.

So we drive out to a dilapidated farmhouse with a sizeable hog pen and wallow - and then we boot and bugspray up and head off across the cow pasture. About a half-mile out from the farmhouse, we hit on the creek that runs through and part-way round a very large collection of family-owned farmsteads. Now the brother who's taken us out on this adventure, is an attorney in Kansas City. He hadn't planned on this either, but the flash-flooding necessitated it. Instead of the light county-fair duty we'd planned on for the boys that morning, we were going to have to walk the creek to check on the condition of several patches of barbed-wire fencing that serves to keep their cows on their property.

"fine rolling prairie, plenty of stone and water and coal within twenty-five miles."

You absolutely have to see it, to believe it. On his grandfather's property alone, homeboy's grandfather and his grandfathers 6 brothers were all homesteaders, we passed through two former rock quarries. The limestone, shale, and other sedimentary rock formations in some points jut up to a height of nearly 30 feet from the creek bed, studded with fossils and green with moss in areas - most of the creek walk consisted in negotiating muddy water interspersed with broken rock and quickmud {think quicksand but with mud} and trees and tall foliage that looks a lot like temperate jungle. You pretty much have to keep a switch swinging in front of you in the forested and flora'd areas, or just try your luck with the big orb webs you go through every 30 seconds or so, and while most of the spiders are small even though their webs are quite large, occassionally you run into some nightmarishly successful {big fat hairy frikkin} individuals - with whom you really don't want to tangle.

Now remember, you're not just out there for the sheer adventure of the thing, you've actually gotta take note of all the broken spots on the fencing and fix all of those you can fix. There are cow patties and cowbones and other relics indicative of the extent to which the cows will get down in that creek bed and do their cow thing, including getting under broken barbed-wire fencing. In the course of our walk, we came across one forelorn gray calf knocking on deaths door, it had been flyblinded {fly's can do a lot of damage to young cattle} and not eating and was effectively lost from the rest of the herd.

We had walkie talkies {which were all but useless unfortunately} Since there were three 650 acre farms (640 acres is a square mile) through which the creek traversed, and it took us ~ five hours to traverse the creek and then make a diagonal overhill and cowpasture back - I believe we wound up walking about 6-7 miles. If it takes you 3+ hours to walk about 3 miles, go figure, those are some hard, hard miles.

it was the muscle of the arm, the men that Worked, that we wanted.

I'm not going to bore you with a more detailed walk travelogue other than to say that neither my son or I have ever been as dirty and as tired as we were when we finally finished that walk. It is to his great credit that he made it. As the smallest, with the shortest legs and no prior experience with a challenging haul, he made it through in great good spirits and with a determination to do it again, as soon as possible, only next time with different footwear. {forget about the boots, just wear sneakers and pants that you don't give a damn about} As for myself, I managed to hang onto my keys, wallet, and other necessities and only experienced one drenching mudbutt fall. [those are the breaks when you're making sure your child is able to get across spots you yourself are uncertain of being able to traverse]

We're committed to going out again sometime in the next couple weeks. I suspect we passed the test of earnestness - and maybe next time we'll actually get to do a little more restful sport fishing and county fair type chores. That all depends on the weather and necessity of course. The good thing is that my 6 year old has decided that he loves the country, fears nothing in it, and wants to master every aspect of it. For my own purposes, our host was in complete agreement with me about the urgency of making every effort to keep control of the land, transfer knowledge across generations - so that those remaining black master farmers - who've managed to keep the farms and to maintain black farming communities can pass on their skills and expertise.

It was even apparent how black digerati might be useful >{unlike black politicos?} to black farming communities. As things presently stand, there is little to no cross-pollination from city to rural county. There is little to know communally organized and cooperative project management and execution by multiple black farmers. i.e., individuals are mostly autonomous operators in the market. With the cost of energy going on a perpetual incline from this point forward, the long-standing need for black farmers to work together more efficiently - will only become increasingly acute.

I feel very blessed to be situated in the right place to identify and have a relationship with all the players - even more blessed to have been moved by the spirit to even attempt to do so. It was purely by grace that this came to pass. I had no idea of my neighbor and friend's connection to the black farming community, we had never talked about anything like that, instead talking about the kids, and 9-5 type stuff.

Now, based on this little adventure, and some our discussion over the weekend, Work is going to proceed on a whole different level. I can see clear and tangible ways in which we can DO some things across an expanse of interpersonal blackness that have never previously been attempted. I see a rural-urban interpolation in which worlds practically separate for the time being, but spatially and culturally proximate - can be brought together for mutual benefit and flourishment.

I'm really looking forward to more boys in the hood having a regular creek walking experience of their own....,

Posted by at August 21, 2005 02:55 PM | TrackBack