Scene 7
The Waldorf Hotel – Don King, Lloyd Price & Mohammad Ali are giving a press conference – behind them stand three poster girls including Veronica Porsche
Don King
Ladies & gentlemen, distinguish’d
Members of the press – I’ve call’d you all here
Today, to the salubrious quarters
Of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel,
For to discuss a couple of events
That’ll soon be happening over there
In Zaire, Africa, while one of them
Is gonna be the greatest musical
Event in the whole world, this year, entire,
T’will be running happily alongside
The greatest of all the sporting events
Ever to be held on the Planet Earth
MA
If I’m in it, it’s going to be great
Don King
So, first, the musical event, t’will be
Held a few days before the heavyweight
Championship of the World to be fought
Between George Foreman & this man right here
Muhammad Ali
MA
George Foreman’s a chump
Don King
I’m sure you all know my colleague esteem’d,
The consummate performer, Mister Lloyd Price
Who’ll be co-organising the event,
Lloyd Price
Hello, everybody, & welcome
Journalist 1
Lloyd
Would you like to say a few words to us
About the events
Lloyd Price
Sure thing – well, the fight
Don King
He means the Rumble in the Jungle
Lloyd Price
S’right
Our destiny is unalterable
The challenge is to see how far we’ll go
& how impeccable midst rigid bounds
Realising this fight is gonna be
An honoring of the best black athletes
In one of the planet’s best black nations
With both those athletes Black Americans
Whose other strength imperious is song
We wanted to combine them together
When grasping the strand of the motherland
With verve, & noble virtuosity
Absorbing her musical beat, the drum
Humanity’s communicate has been
Since time began out-rolling thro the mist
& still binds all together, race & faith
The thud of skins the first e’er message sent
& then we hammer’d out our songs for God
& come this wondrous festival, no more
Shall Africa be alien to us
Out there in this land of long forgetting
But much embolden’d by the common cause
That strove for Civil Rights, this Ocean trip
Comes as a unique opportunity
Not just to perform for a new set of
Fans enthusiastic, but to explore
Their roots as well
Don King
We are returning home
To play in the land of our heritage
Where Black folk flourish’d while white men warm’d caves
Communing at the core of our forebears
This will bring all the people together
Under a world-wide review, yes I do
Love America, but as a people
The Blacks have been short-chang’d, we’re forc’d to ride
Bareback upon the breadth of our talents
Just like Soul Brother Number One, James Brown,
Who’ll be coming to Zaire
Journalist
& who else
Is on the bill
Lloyd Price
The Fania All‐Stars, with Bill Withers
& the Spinners out from America
There’s also the South African singer
Miriam Makeba
MA
These pretty girls
Are coming too, the most beautiful blacks
Of America will be in Zaire
To see me triumph over George Foreman
I’ll put that sucker in a cooking pot
& boil him up & eat him flesh & bone
For my titles I’d never really lost
Of this unascended heaven, I am
The tallest star, just passing satellite
George Foreman is, nobody considers
This phoney chump the champ, everyone knows
It’s me – call me the ‘People’s Champion,’
& let wide glory cease on crowning fools
I hear Foreman’s insisting I’ve no chance
I’m thirty-two years old, my legs have gone
With nothing but a prayer to my name
But can somebody tell this dull upstart
That if my prayers reach the man divine
Not only will Foreman fall, but mountains,
I am burgeoning with the summer months,
Judge not the play before the play is done
All Foreman’s fought’s Joe Frazier, out-of-shape,
Six times he knock’d him down, but couldn’t keep
Him down – he aint fought nobody decent
Has never pass’d a single merit-test
But, as fast as I am, & accurate,
I’m sure that awkward punching, wild-swinging
George Foreman gonna fall – this chump has got
Everybody scared of him – scared of what
There’s nothing to be scared of – hey fellas
How many here picks George – be truthful now
Raise your hand – hey Mailer, have you got George
You fella, yeah you, have you…. tell the truth
Look, I’ll tell you something about Foreman
Unstuff thine ears & listen one & all
Who lauds upon his punching strength – repent!
The world has been deceiv’d – listen to me,
I never told you wrong – he don’t hit hard
This is gonna be the biggest upset
Since Sonny Liston – it is befitting
I’ll exit boxing just like I came in
Beating up the big bad knock-out artist
The monster that nobody could destroy
As when that little kid from Louisville,
Kentucky came up, stopp’d Sonny Liston
Who annihilated Floyd Patterson
Twice – he was gonna kill me – hits harder
Than George – he’s a better boxer than George,
But I’m even better than when you saw
My former self a-duel that Big Bad Bear
Twenty-two years old, underdevelop’d,
But fast enough tight rings to run around
& slay him with precise & snakebite jabs –
I’m experienced now, professional,
& Foreman ain’t got nuthin on Liston
One singular glance metoposcopic
At ugly head, his fate’s concipio –
He’s a bully, he’s slow, & he’s awkward
He has no footwork & he has no skill
Loomingly looping with gawkhammer fists
I gave him a name – just as I named Floyd
Patterson the Rabbit, Liston the Bear
From now let Foreman be formerly call’d
The Mummy
Journalist 3
Why the Mummy, Muhammad
MA
{acting out}
Well, if you ever watch him in the ring
He drags his feet like this after his foe
Using my mind over stone-age matter
Just how’s a mummy gonna catch me when
All you need is a single step ahead
Where is he? Over here? no over here?
Now I’m moving too fast, but a mummy
Don’t fight this fast – & look, George telegraphs
His punches – look out; here comes the left – whomp
Here comes the right – whomp! get ready people
George ain’t all that tough – what white reporters
Gotta remember is this, we black folks
Ain’t afraid of black folks the way white folks
Are afraid of black folks – Foreman ain’t nothing
He’s just a big old bully from Texas
Who used to beat people up in the streets
He’s but a gang boy he hasn’t been throug
No real test of manhood – well not yet
He’s meeting his master & his idol
He wish he could get outta the whole thing
But how is Foreman gonna get near me
Abhorring blindness while my lightning speed
Snakebites him with my jab – the stage is set –
When I whup this man with a poo-poo-poo
I’ll prove to the world I’m still the fastest
Prettiest, classiest, scientific
& greatest human fighter of all times.
Lloyd Price
The brother really saying something there
Journalist 1
So, Muhammad, tell us, how does it feel
To be fighting over in Africa
MA
I’m going to fight among my brothers
This will be the first ever assembly
Of Africa & Black America
Reunified, since evil slavery
First separated us, when we shall meet
Each other in the spirit of learning
Sharing four centuries of influence
Evolv’d in our ocean-parted corners
‘Tis honorable to be a part of
Plus, I’ve gotta whup George
Journalist 2
Hey, Muhammad
Got any new poems for us
MA
I sure have
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’ve been training hard, alright
I done something new for this fight
I have wrestled with an alligator
I gone tussl’d with a whale
I’ve handcuffed lightning
Thrown thunder in jail
Only last week I murder’d a rock
Injur’d a stone, hospitalised a brick
I’m so mean i make medicine sick
I done wrassled with an alligator,
I done tussled with a whale.
Only last week I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick.
I’m so mean, I make medicine sick.
Don King
Bad, dude, you’re bad
MA
Yeah I’m bad, fast, I’m fast
Last night I hit the switch in my bedroom
Was in my bed before the room was dark
Lloyd Price
Well, alright, that will be all for today
Don King
As the Greek playwright, Aeschylus, once said
In his excellent piece, the Suppliants,
Honor thy father & thy mother stands
Witten among the three laws most revered
Of mortal righteousness, & as we Blacks
Were sired by Africa, let us abide
In the lands of parental perfection
Watching the return of prodigal sons
To the womb from where their heritage sprang,
Contesting the Rumble in the Jungle
For all of us, two gladiators proud
Good day, ladies & gentlemen, good day.
Exit Don King, Lloyd Price, the three poster girls & Muhammad Ali, who is flirting with Veronica Porsche
Scene 8
Dikembe & Christian are in the crowd at Kinshasa airport under a giant a poster of President Mobutu’s bespectacled face – on the poster is written: A gift of President Mobutu to the people of Zaire / And below that: And, an honor for the black man
Christian
Dikembe! Dikembe!
Dikembe
Yes, Christian
Christian
Look at our president – Sese Seko
Kuku Ngbendu Wa Za Banga,
Or simply Mobuto, our first ruler
Of the revolution – all-powerful
All pervasive – loving this reverie
Embosom’d by dull cronies captaining
A company of handsome soldiery
Onto the tarmac
Dikembe
A tawdry circus
But entertaining in its kind of way
As if Neroine bread & circuses
Deflect irresponsible ambitions
Christian
Such drastic opulence when Congo craves
In countless quarters thro’ its thoughtless lords,
Ten million American dollars
Could better spent be, hospitals & schools
Dikembe
He’s a bank vault in a leopard-skin hat
The natural resources of Zaire
Are monetiz’d into his Swiss accounts
The biggest swimming pool in Africa
Palatial residences each province
As well as Brussels, Paris, Geneva
Christian
Switzerland?
Dikembe
Yes, Switzerland
Christian
My goodness
But better the devil you know, than the
Devil fattening on a Belgian throne
& he is bringing us the Heavyweight
Championship of the world, to Zaire
Today, are coming Muhammad Ali
& George Foreman, today & very soon
Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get It On’ is heard
Christian
We shall be poor before & poor after
This famous fight, which is brightening lives
& who can put a price upon a gift
Of the President to the people
I feel our fever rising everywhere
In kitchens, in bedrooms, we only talk
Of the Rumble coming in the Jungle
That thy are returning to their homelands
To show off their artistry in Zaire
Brothers, virtuosos, may the best man win
Dikembe
The door has opens on that landed plane
& down descends George Foreman, & behind
His bodyguard on follows, carrying
A boombox playing music – Marvin Gaye –
While all his entourage dashiki wear
Christian
This is a nice touch
Dikembe
But what’s that with him
A dog! A German Shepherd! An insult!
Christian
My god, what is this idiot doing?
That canine symbolis’d our oppression
When Belgian police lock’d down society
Thro’ Max Von Stephanitz’s barking brute
Dikembe
He cannot be doing it on purpose
Christian
Well, he should have studied our history
& now I want to see the man beat up
How much are the tickets
Dikembe
Too expensive
We’d have to spend a whole month’s salary
Christian
Salt that proposal with magical thought
Maybe we could pay off by installment
Dikembe
I don’t know
Christian
Mobuto’s shaking his hand
& doesn’t look too kindly on the dog
Dikembe
I’m not surpris’d
Christian
Listen, what is that cheer
Dikembe
The plane that’s slowly drifting in to land
Must be Ali’s
Christian
& listen to the crowd
What are they singing
Dikembe
Ali bome aye!
ALI BOME AYE
Mobuto…
Ali bome aye!
Ali bome aye!
Ali Bome aye!
Ali! Ali!
Mobuto…
Ali bome aye!
Ali bome aye!
Ali Bome aye!
Ali! Ali!
We gonna watch him as he’s tacking George Foreman
We know youll beat him cos that boxer is too slow man
Our gladiator king, we modern roman
Colosseum kids gonna sing… the funky chorus
Ali bome aye!
Ali bome aye!
Ali Bome aye!
Ali! Ali!
Mobuto…
Mobuto…
Scene 9
The Congo River – Mobotu’s three-tiered luxury yacht sporting the green national flag of Zaire – Mobuto is with his his counselor, Mandungu bula nyati, & his translator, Tshimpumpu wa Tshimpumpu – also with them are Belinda, Don King, Mohammad Ali & Bundini Brown, all clad in African dress
Mobuto
Bienvenue a Zaire
Tshimpumpu
On behalf of President Mobutu and our people, welcome to Zaire
Don King
Please tell his excellency we all dwell
Beyond honour to be in his country
Tshimpumpu
My good name is Tshimpumpu wa
Tshimpumpu, & I will be your chief
Translator in Zaire, & this man here
Is the counselor to the president
Mandungu bula nyati
Don King
Hello
Mandungu
Joyeuses salutations à votre
Arrivée en toute sécurité
Tshimpumpu
The counselor says, eh, greetings upon
Your safe arrival… as for myself, I
Will be serving as your press attache
For the championship fight
Mobuto
Je leur offre
L’hospitalité de notre nation
Au célèbre Monsieur Muhammad
Ali et à sa belle épouse
Et je voudrais qu’ils sachent
Tous que tout dans ce pays
Est à leur disposition
Tshimpumpu
The paramount President Mobutu
Expresses his desire that I offer
Our nation’s gracious hospitality
To the celebrated Monsieur Ali
& his beautiful wife, would like you all
To know that everything in this country
Is at your disposal
MA
Can you please tell
The President we are all delighted
To be here – among our people
Tshimpumpu translates
Don King
With all of our black brothers & sisters
Tshimpumpu translates
Mobuto
Tout le pouvoir noir est recherché
Partout dans le monde, et ici
Au Zaïre il a été réalisé
Mais moderniser la marche du temps
Cette nation est un mélange nouveau et agréable
Un État européen, mais avec un chef
Pour lier les divers groupes tribaux en un seul
Une famille d’unité ordonnée
Tshimpumpu
The president says that whole black power
Is sought everywhere in the world, & here
In Zaire it has been realized
But modernizing to the march of time
This nation is a new & pleasant blend
A European state, but with a chief
To bind the diverse tribal groups as one
A family of order’d unity
Don King
Yes
This fight’s occurring in these famous times
Of great & global black awakening
Tshimpumpu translates
MA
In nineteen seventy-four, to be black
Is to be great, tell the president that
Tshimpumpu translates
Mobuto
Muhammad Ali dit la vérité
Mais je ne suis pas complètement
Satisfait de lui – la référence à la
Marmite de l’hôtel waldorf
Tshimpumpu
The President’s not completely happy
With Mohammad
MA
Why, why, what have I done
Tshimpumpu
In America – the Waldorf hotel
You made unfortunate comments
MA
I did
About putting George Foreman in a pot
& eating him whole
MA
Oh – I did say that
Mobuto
Les gens du Zaïre ne sont pas des
Cannibales on ne mange pas les gens
Tshimpumpu
His excellency wishes to reassure
We are not cannibals & don’t eat people
MA
My humblest apologies – but when I’m
Excited I’ll sometimes get carried away
With what I’m saying – my apologies!
Tshimpumpu translates – Mobuto nods his head in appreciation
Tshimpumpu
Your apology has been accepted
But you must be aware that dustbin jokes
Like this do not amuse him – such notions
Exactly are the sort of those dated
Stereotypes of noble Africans
Made by American majorities,
Even Afro-Americans, & this
Displeases him greatly, ill-thought
Remarks such as these damage our image.
Don King
We assure the President & Zaire
Nothing like that will ever be utter’d
Again & we’ll strive with all our power
To showcase how wonderful this country,
Its leader, people & his culture are
Tshimpumpu translates
Mobuto
Je vous ai tous invités au Zaïre
Par le biais de la boxe pour
Démontrer à quel point l’Afrique
De l’Ouest était devenue cultivée
Et civilisée, et pour exposer le reste
De la civilisation à la beauté et aux
Ressources de son pays
Tshimpumpu
The President says you were invited
To Zaire in order to demonstrate
How cultured and civilized have we
West Africans become, & to expose
This planetary civilization
To the beauties & to the resources
Of his country
MA
Tell his excellency
We cannot wait to enjoy everything
His country has to offer, by being here
We shall truly show Zaire to the world
Mobuto
Je dois également ajouter que même
Si j’apprécie vos efforts pour porter
Une robe africaine indigène, nous ici
Au zaïre nous habillons plus comme
Vous en Amérique
Tshimpumpu
The generous President adds that while
He appreciates your dress, in Zaire
We dress more like you in America
MA
We’ve seen that
Tshimpumpu
If you feel more comfortable
In your American clothes, please wear them
Food & drinks are brought in – Tshimpump begins translating the conversation to Mobuto
Mandungu
But as for our food, please, you must enjoy
MA
You speak English
Mandungu
Enough, I speak enough
Don King
This smells delicious
Mandungu
Please eat, all of you
& when you are satisfied you will abe
Taken to Nbele, the President’s
Compound, where your training facilities
Are hous’d
MA
We have a suite there, also, right?
Mandungu
Yes
MA
When I train I want the best drummers
Conjuring tribal rhythms in the gym
On congas or djembes, something native
Mandungu
That will be arrang’d
MA
What about Foreman
Mandungu
He will also train out at Nbele
In a different sector, but shall sleep
At a hotel in central Khinshasa
We thought it better to separate
Your energies until the vital fight
Negate all potentiality
Of testosteronic clashes that might cause
Embarrassment – we’ve studied your career
Mister Ali, know you are capable
Of certain histrionics
MA
I shall reign
Such outbursts in I promise
Mandungu
We are glad
In dissonance there is a caustic chord
Of agitating, yet natural notes,
Let’s play them one-by-one, not together
Now eat & drink & welcome to Zaire
All the party eat in a slightly awkward silence
Scene 10
It is breakfast at the Hotel Inter-Continental / beyond the balustrade native music is made on drums and xylophones / ceiling fans rotate above several journalists – Howard Cossel, Budd Schulberg & George Plimpton – are sunk into wicker plantation chairs / by them pass waiters & slim bellhops carrying chalkboards
Howard Cossel
O venerable pageantry of time!
Adore, I, this bald heat, exquisite sense
Of delicate envelopment by God
As all around me rushes land & life
Budd Schulberg
What about the flies
George Plimpton
Just squat them away
Budd Schulberg
I tell you what, I wasn’t all convinc’d
On lock, stock & barreling out here
But being out in Africa’s so cool
Howard Cossel
Well, I guess the top of Mount Everest
Was far too busy in September, right?
I don’t know why they cannot hold the fight
In Yankee Stadium like all the rest
Budd Schulberg
Howard, hold yer gripings, the world spirit
Across the Planet Earth doth manifest
Itself in myriad, glorious shades
George Plimpton
Well said Budd, I’m finding Africa’s fine
& everybody’s here, each important
American pen
Howard Cossel
You’d merit importance?
I tell you whom is here I do not get
Ali’s entourage – what do they all do
George Plimpton
One’s a masseuse, a motivator coach
Another’s paid fifty thousand a year
For what’s describ’d as driving & jiving
There’s Big Black, a man who carries a drum
Who beats it every time he lands a punch
Another tastes his sweat for salt content
Budd Schulberg
His court is crazy with outlandish parts
An entourage right out of Hollywood
My poodle’s manicurist, stuff like that
Enter Norman Mailer
Norman Mailer
Good morning gentlemen
Howard Cossel
Morning Norman
Norman Mailer
Wowee – what a morning – abject terror
Craving to take me to a finite end
I’m lucky I’ve surviv’d my night of fear
Budd Schulberg
What happen’d, man
A waiter starts to hear & translates it for the hotel staff
Norman Mailer
Well, listen carefully
& I shall bring my story’s guts to life
& flesh it out inside your mind, unbound
It was just after three in the morning
I was watching Ali at his roadwork
I’d waited half an hour & then he pass’d
& rose up some steep incline, in his wake
The green volkswagon of an entourage
Where gagging on their exhaust watch’d them go
Then, trudging back to town, the darkness pitch,
Out of the jungle’s blank belligerence
I heard a noise; not frogs, not horn, not hound,
All low and guttural, then frightening
As that clear’d throat became a full-blown roar
Of a lion, quite unmistakable,
Well, I’ve seen enough MGM movies
To know what one should sound like that, & for me
To meet one in person I did not care
George Plimpton
Wow, what a way to go, to be devour’d
Out in equatorial Africa
By some savage lion, become its brunch,
Howard Cossel
What better way of meeting one’s maker?
Especially for one who has believ’d
Himself, thro’ so illustrious a life,
That all he needs for immortality
Was a dramatic ending – Hemingway
Had his shotgun, Mailer has his lion.
Waiter
Il a nourriture lion!
The waiters laugh – one of them scratching the air with his hand like a paw and roaring loudly, doing an imitation of a lion.
Norman Mailer
What you say
Waiter
You are the lion’s food!
Norman Mailer
Why laugh they so
George Plimpton
Norman, dear Norman, no lions run free
In this part of Africa
Norman Mailer
Man, you are nuts
I definitely heard a lion, man
I weren’t dreaming that, I assure you all
Waiter
Yes, but you were completely safe
Norman Mailer
I was
Waiter
Oui,
Monsieur Mailer – you were by the zoo
Everyone laughs
Norman Mailer
The zoo, Kinshasha has a zoo
Budd Schulberg
Yeah man
Ali runs around it every morning
Norman Mailer
Well, it was still terrifying, y’know
George Plimpton
I’m sure it was, but talking of terror
That young man, Foreman, petrifies my bones
But Ali is, well, Ali, & he was
The greatest boxer we had ever seen
So, who’s everyone got
Howard Cossel
I got Foreman
Budd Schulberg
Foreman
Norman Mailer
Yeah, I got him too – forty fights
Forty wins & thirty-seven knock-outs
His last eight fights have not gone past two rounds
Howard Cossel
He is nothing but a killing machine
& fights each man with a resolute rage
He might be the heaviest puncher
In the history of his division
He doesn’t fight you, no he just mugs you
Budd Schulberg
Ali might be able to escape
Foreman’s sledgehammer for a few rounds, yes
but not for fifteen – sooner or later
He will be counted out, like Chuvalo
I thought that guy was indestructible
& could remain stood up a hundred rounds
But lasted only two, no Ali’s doom’d
George Plimpton
But miracles might happen, we all thought
Liston would destroy him
Norman Mailer
That was dodgy,
& you know it
George Plimpton
No, I do not agree
Ali is a genius, he might find
A way, I wouldn’t dismiss his chances
So readily, with brutal metaphors
Budd Schulberg
But Foreman’s so young, so strong, so fearless,
The time has come, I sense, to say goodbye
To Mohammad Ali, there’s a monster
Out for his blood, & he’s merely shark-bait,
The word murderous is not enough
Foreman’s awesome, with over & over
A stern & obscene capacity
For obliteration, overdriving
He’ll traumatize with a blunt force drama
Howard Cossel
There’s a certain mysticism to it
I think Foreman believes in a deity
Of the Heavyweight Division, whose realm
Can only be inhabited by one
Entity ethereal – & that’s him
With the ability to neutralize
The rest of humanity, no hassle,
Esoteric qualities of each punch
Forg’d & finely tun’d by the mechanics
Of might & muscle melding with the mind
Into something beyond explanation
Astonishing, concussive, & cruel
Like those that ripp’d apart the Moehne Dam
Budd Schulberg
What does everybody think about King
The reason why we’re here if you recall
Norman Mailer
Well, well, well, what do I make of the great
Chatterboxing sesquipedalian
Don King I’m not sure – the cogency
Of his vocab-vortex makes me suspect
The deepest of knowledge
George Plimpton
But then again
A parrot cannot quantum mechanise
Norman Mailer
But as a black man in a whitewash’d world
We finally now have a promoter
Of whom can blacks be proud, what he’s doing
Unheard of in the annals of all sport
There’s identity realisation
In what he’s doing here, its amazing
Howard Cossel
Don King doesn’t care about the black man
The only colour that he cares about
Is the green
Budd Schulberg
Don King is a damn sleezebag,
Some verbose & murderous ex-convict,
Slamming gangsterism into boxing
Norman Mailer
Well… whatever, & whoever he is,
Somehow he’s rais’d the money for all this,
& I don’t mind a dixie, more foie gras
Howard Cossel
Don’t mind if I do
Budd Schulberg
Thank you very much
Norman Mailer
Radiating brute force with just a look
George Foreman is a classicist at heart
No move of head, nor a right guard even,
But with a forearm or an elbow’s edge
Halts punches with a wall of brutal coil
Pinning & pulling arms, unbalancing
His steadily infuriated foe
& like Liston in his prime dispatches
Awesome power with ruthless abandon,
Devouring prey like apex predators
Until exasperation has been serv’d
& then the killer blows like wolf pack surge
There is no way that Muhammad Ali –
An older, slower Muhammad Ali
Will ever win this battle
George Plimpton
Maybe, Norm,
But maybe not, we’ll have to wait & see
Scene 11
Mohammad Ali is in his rooms praying on his knees – there is a knock on the door / Ali opens it
MA
Veronica!
Veronica Porsche
Hey
MA
Salam alaikum
Veronica Porsche
What
MA
Its Muslim for ‘peace be upon you’
Veronica Porsche
Oh! I darn forgot you were Islamic
MA
It’s wonderful to be so close to god
Anyway, come in, glad you could make it
Want a drink
Veronica Porsche
Sure
MA
Nothing alcoholic
I’m afraid – orange juice alright
Veronica Porsche
Yes thanks
By the way, why so early, I mean dawn
Its not the conventional time to meet
MA
I been up two hours already, besides
It’s more discreet to meet when world’s asleep
So, Veronica, got a second name
Veronica Porsche
Its Porsche
What, like the car
Veronica Porsche
Yeah, like the car
MA
Veronica Porsche – that’s such a nice name
You know that you are very beautiful
Even for a poster girl, your beauty
So transcendentally divine – so, is this
Your full-time job, being, well, beautiful
Veronica Porsche
No, not at all, but thank you, no I am
On a full scholarship at U.S.C.
MA
USC, huh, what are you studying
Veronica Porsche
I’m pre-med
MA
Wow! Wow! Wow! – beauty AND brains
But tell me, please, how did you end up here
In Africa
Veronica Porsche
I just enter’d the contest
Only for fun, & it won me the trip
I’m not complaining, it just amazing
Out here, so exciting, alive
MA
I know
The way Black Power has been manifested
Out here in Zaire’s a stunning thing
Back home too many colour’d people think
T’would better be to be white – now I know
That being black is the best thing on Earth
I mean just look at you, then look at me,
So pretty right, & I’m the best fighter
In the whole world
Veronica Porsche
I dig what yer saying
We’ve been condition’d unto Africa
Back home it’s all jungles & gorillas
Savages leading whites on safaris
But we’re the savages, who’ll barely speak
A single language well, while over here
They triple up; French, English, tribal tongue
MA
& everything is black – stewardesses
Teachers, train drivers, TeeVee presenters
There’s African boats & African cars
I really feel at home here, really do
I’ve never felt like this once in the States
Bubbling resentments taints my homemakings
Veronica Porsche
What made you wanna get into boxing
MA
I knew from an early age I wanted
To do something special for my people
I used to go outside just eight-years-old
Looking at the skies, searching for angels
A god-sent revelation of my cause
But never got an answer – I would gaze
Upon the stars, just waiting for a voice
But nothing heard, & then one drastic day
When I was twelve my new bike got stolen
I was so angry, I wanted to fight
The thieves so badly I channel’d my force
Into a love of boxing never lost
& now I know that God was telling me
Boxing was my responsibility
That he’d blest me with certain resources
& thro my bouts he’d get His message out
Veronica Porsche
God made us small, but some he special made,
Einstein was no ordinary human,
Nor Elvis Presley or the Wright Brothers
I think to be among them is your fate
A soul who marks the age
MA
Talking of souls
Yours is the most adorable I’ve felt
So wholesome & untainted, while your looks –
Oh boy! Your ochre Creole coloured skin
Your tall & shapely figure you’re not just
The most prettiest black woman I’ve seen
But most prettiest woman, period
Veronica Porsche
Shut up Ali
MA
But, listen, you should wear
More than what you do, who needs bikinis,
When the most pleasant of dresses exist
Veronica Porsche
It’s part of the gig, Don King says
MA
Don King
Don’t worry about him, I’ll talk to him
Everything God has made valuable
In this world is covered & protected,
Hard to get to – both prettiest coral
& swarms of colour’d fish which push & pull
& puff away before the naked wand
That is a human swimmer, only seen
If that same swimmer dons his diving gear
Where do we find diamonds, Veronica
Planted in ground covered by layer’d earth
Where do we find pearls – on ocean bottoms
Protected by a Botticelli shell
Where do we find gold – in the depths of mines
Cover’d under rock – where do you find oil
Below the mines, pool’d on the mantle shelf
God makes us work to earn our precious things
As such, your beauty, too, should hidden be
Veronica Porsche
Y’know, I thought you a big mouth braggart
But no, your soul is sensitive
MA
Hey look
Do you like my shoes
Veronica Porsche
Yeah, they’re pretty nice
MA
I bought them for you
Veronica Porsche
What
MA
I heard folk say
Girls understand a man just by his shoes
I wanted to make a good impression
Cos, Veronica, when I first saw you,
Something happen’d in my sensitive soul
HEAVEN HAS SENT ME AN ANGEL
She could tell I’m the boy that I wanted to be
When I looked in her eyes all that I could see
Was the kind of guy whose gonna make her smile
Shes digging my new shoes
Sometimes
Love rhymes
With heaven above
Cos heaven has sent us an angel
She’s digging my new shoes
Well we went for a stroll on the buttercup lawn
Mucking about at the break of dawn
I was hoping today was gonna make her mine
I’m looking the good news
Sometimes
Love rhymes
With heaven above
Cos heaven has sent me an angel
Just look at my new shoes
Sometimes
Love rhymes
With heaven above
Cos heaven has sent us an angel
I’m loving my new shoes
MA
Oh! Can I hold you, I really want to
Veronica Porsche
I want to too, an awful lot, but, but
You’re married, you’ve got kids, a family
It’s not in me to jeopardize their lives
MA
But now I know you are my true love’s mate
Joy swells my soul as when the rippling fruit
Appears upon the bough in early spring
Please…
Veronica Porsche
I cannot do this – I gotta go
MA
Veronica, wait
Veronica Porsche
No I’ve have to go
Exit Veronica Porsche / Muhammad Ali piningly plants his forehead on the door as it is closed behind her
The Conchordia Folio 