the African continent, that you are on the oldest
continent and the richest, and that you’re with
the first people on earth who were, in fact, civi-
lized, but you don’t all of a sudden say, ‘‘Oh, now
I’m a part of that; there’s a tradition here.’’ No, I
don’t think so.
First of all, it would be very difficult for me
to be anything other than western, you know,
because I am. I’m not wedded to tradition. I
think that when we consider poetry, period, the
nature of poetry, if we go pre-biblical, of course,
we are going to get right into the African expe-
rience. And, of course, the oral arts in Africa are
at an extremely high level. So you do have this
involvement with the spoken word. I think that
that is important, but I also think it’s important
to be able to write something down, so I don’t
have any conflict. It doesn’t make my day, and it
doesn’t break it.
Has your attitude toward your relationship to
Africa changed over the years, after your first-
hand experience there?
I really don’t think I have a relationship with
Africa. I think I have a relationship with my
mother, my son, a number of other things; I
don’t think I have a relationship with the conti-
nent. I enjoy traveling in Africa. I’m so happy:
from the first time I went in 1972, until now, it’s
much cheaper to go, and one is more capable of
going. And you don’t really have to go through
Europe; you can actually go from New York to
Dakar without having to stop over, make what
amounts to a courtesy stop in Europe. And I
think that probably anybody who likes to travel
would choose to travel to Africa at some point. I
think to not go is a great loss. You are, as I said,
on the richest continent, and you are among the
first of civilized man. And I think that’s an impor-
tant part of your experience. I also feel, though,
it’s equally important to do other parts of the
earth. I’m really looking forward to going to
Antarctica. It’s environmentally sound. I don’t
want you, or anyone, to think that I am denigrat-
ing Africa. Some people say, ‘‘Well, why doesn’t
she have a relationship with Africa?’’ or ‘‘why
doesn’t she have her day made by going?’’ What
I’m just trying to say is that you have to recognize,
first of all, in 1982, Earth is a very small planet,
and what we do is involve ourselves so that we are
properly educated. I would still be remiss in my
intellectual growth if I only did Africa. I would
certainly be remiss if I didnotdo it. But it is not
sufficient unto itself. We have to move around
and utilize the best of all cultures.
I happen to be in an art that is almost over-
whelmingly African because the poets started
there. The first codification, of course, that west-
ern man recognizes is the Bible, and of course,
we’re still on the African continent—never
understood how that became the Middle East,
when the map says to me that it is Africa. You
can see that, and we’re very proud of it, but we
also recognize that there are changes that have
been made in the profession, and that those
changes also are necessary to the life of the pro-
fession, in order for art to be serious, if I can use
that—there must be a better word—to be viable.
It had to remain alive; it has to remain adaptive
to whatever forms. I have, of course, recorded
some of my poetry: to gospel music in one case,
and contemporary music, and some other
albums just as a straight reading. It would be
ridiculous, the only word I can think of, that I
would live in an electronic age and not choose to
electronically transmit my voice. That doesn’t
mean that I’m going to have the number-one-
best-selling record. It’s not likely at all; if I did, it
would certainly be a fluke. But you do seek to
use the tools that are available to you at that
time. Always. You can’t be so, I think the term
is, purist. You get those people that say, ‘‘I
would never print a book,’’ and I’m sure that
when the printing press came, ‘‘that’s not the
way you do it.’’ And people continue to think
that. I think that our obligation is to use what-
ever technology is available, because whether or
not art is able to be translated tells us something
about whether or not it’s, in fact, living, whether
or not it’s part of us.
Whether it can be translated from one form to
another, you mean?
To some degree. That’s not the test of it, but
to some degree. We were talking about a Shake-
speare or aDon Quixote, particularlyDon Quix-
ote, but it has lasted so long. Not to denigrate
Don Quixote, but essentially it’s your basic soap
opera. Every evening, the Spanish Court would
gather, and somebody would read it. Well, it had
to be interesting; it had to be true; it had to be
something that people could connect to. And
that’s what you try to do. Now, I don’t know
thatDon Quixotewould make a great movie.
Of course we did make it into a play, and I
think we’ve done variations on the theme. I’m
saying that you don’t write for one medium toWinter