gift is the blessing of the giver.’” The

But a Congolese life is like the useless Congolese bill, which you can pile by the fistful or the bucketful into a merchant's hand, and still not purchase a single banana. It's dawning on me that I live among men and women who've simply always understood their whole existence is worth less than a banana to most white people. I see it in their eyes when they glance up at me.

And thence I only come again  Just to pack up and run, Somewhere where life may less be pain,  And somewhere where there's sun.

If you want me to sing this Christmas song with the feeling and the meaning, you better see if you can locate that check.

Written By Mahalia Jackson

About us

Featured posts

Featured Topics

Quick Links