I would like to start talking by reading. Yesterday on this campus, the campus of the University of Texas, as incongruous as that might seem, we had a Sharpeville rally. Some people that spoke made a lot of sense; I suppose some people that came also, perhaps, needed to hear what some of those people said. Among those who spoke was a brother I respect highly—or I should say, comrade, because brother contains no commitment—Cecil Abrahams. And this poem is called “For Cecil Abrahams.” It starts out with an epigram from David Diop: “With you I have refound the memory of my blood/ and necklaces of laughter around my days.”