Sunday, 5 June 2016

Muhammad Ali (1942 – 2016) Beautiful person, fighter, poet

I feel very sad about Muhammad Ali. He was my contemporary and fought many a good fight apart from the one he called his job, 'beating up people.' But he did not deliberately try to hurt anyone. "The hype was part of my job, like skipping rope."

A more self-aware, undeceiving and undeceived, person you could not imagine in black America, unless it be Malcolm X. He also said "I may not talk perfect white talk-type English but I give you wisdom", which he did in abundant measure, for example: "At home I am a nice guy but I don't want the world to know. Humble people, I've found, don't get very far."

He was master of the short form poem:

and thought in aphorisms like a seer:

He was also an unrehearsed philosopher:

he had what it takes:

and could inspire others:

He had a message for America that the great Malcolm X could not deliver one-half as effectively:

A man who suffered defeats had words of encouragement for others:

He took his stand not only in the ring ('the real enemy of my people is here'):

Without tutoring he was a natural poet, his mind full of metaphors from the wide world, and his speech drenched in raging hyperbole that made professional speechmakers seem clichéd and boring. He never used the hackneyed locution 'at the end of the day' like TV pundits and ordinary mortals do, because for him it was a new morning always. 

As a sample of his poetic instinct, here is what he made up before he regained his title in 1974 against George Foreman (later, the huckster of the one-drop fryer). It has his immortal lines in wonderful black English:
You think the world was shocked when Nixon resigned?
Wait 'til I whup George Foreman's behind.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
His hand can't hit what his eyes can't see.
Now you see me, now you don't.
George thinks he will, but I know he won't.
I done wrassled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale.
Only last week I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalised a brick.
I'm so mean, I make medicine sick ...

There's no doubt about his loudest assertion (echoes of John 8:58, before Abraham was, I am):

If there's a shadow cast on his claim, then it's in this great picture of another boxer, who couldn't go all the way because he was locked up in Robben Island jail and got deflected by another mission

Here's a tribute from one his opponents:

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