Talking Book



Ain’t no two roots the same, an’ ain’t no two conju’ ‘oman the same neither.

Jes’ the same as no two trees be growin’ in the same place, us folk an’ our roots an’ our goophers ain’t the same from place ter’ place. Ah’ dun nid ter tell yer wah’ happens when they think we all the same.

Dis here place, mah’ roots an’ goophers are tied to tha’ live red oak tree. Ah’ caught an’ kilt an’ skinned an’ tore dis snake’s toof, ah’ raised an’ kilt an’ cut free dis speckle’ hen’s gall, an’ ah’ git all der hair mahself.

Sumtimes our conjuh’ magic twist in the same places, lik’ veins an’ roots. We all git skeered of dem devil jay birds. We all kno’ the haiah is one of the mos’ powful hands in a goopher. But our roots ain’t the same, off ta’ same tree maybe, sumtimes dey migh’ curl an’ cling an’ grow togetha, but every conjuh’ ‘oman gots herself her secrets.

White folks don’ put much stock in roots and the like no mo’. They thinks that science has solve jes’ about every thin-but there’s lots of times they’d be better off if they’d pay mo’ attention to us what knows.

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