Into The WHarehouse

Shit I am tired.  I feel like the life has been sucked out of me and evenly distributed into bland grey bottes on every shelf of a vast wharehouse that has my name at the entrance. I can walk up and down the aisles of myself and every bottle is the same. The blogs are starting to feel like a contents list of the same wharehouse,

Last night I was in Liverpool two hundred and fifty miles away, in another hotel, giving a reading at The Town Hall. I had the pleasure of meeting the Lord Mayor in his parlour with other dignitaries who had come to hear the Slavery Memorial Lecture. I was determinedthat my lecture would be a reading of poems.

It was a celebration of The Abolition of The Slave Trade Act.  What jayne Cortez said at The Queen Elizabeth Hall, says it all “I am proud to be here on the two hundredth anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade act.  I would be even more proud to be here at  the anniversary of The Abolition of the consequences of The Slave Trade”.  Itis the consequences which I spoke about in my talk.  The British attitude to immigration today directly relates to the slave trade. 

It wasn’t an easy talk. It was celebratory in that it was my truth, but I think I sharedtoo much of myself. I saw how difficult it was through the faces of a frowningaudience. The Liverpool people are special, of that there is no doubt. And I wondered whether they deserved such an unhappy lecture. It is a great city and has welcomed me with open arms throughout my adult life.   

I am honoured to have been invited. But in conte it with the lecture  my honour is overshadowed by the disohonourable racism that occurs on a daily basis in all strata of society as a direct result of this countries role in the slave trade.  At the same time as talking about racism I  want to hug the audience. I received the kindest words from people after the reading. 

But I was up at 6am this morning  writing copy for an event in London and onto the train and now I am packing, with The Journalist,  for a flight back to Africa. I’m tired, I really need this holiday. I need to learn how to relax, again.  I need to stop putting out and start giving in. 

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