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The Song of Solomon is Toni’s Morrison bestselling novel and the winner of the 1993 Noble Prize of Literature. The story transpires in an unnamed Michigan town from 1931 to 1963 and follows the life of, Macon Dead Jr, the youngest and only son of the richest black family of the North side community. His mother, Ruth Dead, is the daughter of the only black doctor in the city and his father, Macon Dead II, is the tyrannical landlord of the black only neighbourhood. Macon Dead Jr. lives a very sheltered and privileged childhood, his every want and desire is tended to by his twin older sisters, First Corinthians and Magdalene, and his mother. So much so, that he is given the nickname Milkman for breast feeding from his mother for far too long. Milkman has few friends in his community but becomes best friends with another boy called, Guitar, who got his name not for his guitar playing but because he could never afford to get the one thing he truly wanted, a guitar. They meet Milkman’s auntie, Pilate Dead, whom their father hates for her unkempt live style and her shabby alcohol business. She becomes an influential character in their lives and the young Milkman falls in love with his cousin, Hagar Dead. The two boys develop into the typical men of North side, who drink, smoke, and gain women with charm and keep them with indifference. Milkman soon goes to work for his Macon Dead II, managing and collecting rent from the many tenants whom both hate and fear his father. As Milkman continues to talk with this auntie, he discovers his father’s secret past and the reasons for his hatred of his sister. His father suspects that Pilate stole the gold from the cave on their father’s farmland, which is now worth millions and she is keeping it just to taunt him. In his thirst for money, Milkman agrees to steal the bag from his auntie and brings along Guitar to help. During this theft, they are caught by the police who examine the bag and discover not gold, but a skeleton. To their surprise, Pilate arrives at the police station and creates an alibi to save both the men. She explains to Milkman that she never took the gold and it might still be in the cave on her father’s farmland in Virginia. Excited by this prospect, Milkman travels to his father’s birthplace, while Guitar joins a racial black protest group, The Seven Days, who takes revenge on white people for racially motivated murders of black people. In Virginia, Milkman does not find the gold but rather embarks on a journey of self-discovery that enables him to reconnect with his past and realize his self-worth in a world of superficial respect and materialism.
I am getting really sick and tired of this shit. Another black kid has been killed down in Missouri by a gang of white kids and those crooked cops ain’t going to do nothing about it. “Police were unable to identify the assailants”, that caz they didn’t want to identify nobody for killing a negro in Missouri. “No evidence found at the scene” damn liars “Detectives will look into it” god damn those black hating white folk and their lies. White folk look out for white folk, so why can’t use black folk look out for each other. Ain’t fair that these white people are killing us blacks for no other reason apart from our skin color, ain’t no justice…..well I’ll make justice. Someone got to teach these white folk a lesson, show dem that there are consequences to their hateful actions. I have been talking to my boys down at the barber shop, Henry P and Hospital Tom, and they got the solution. They been telling me about a group of seven of my black brothers who call themselves the “Seven Days”. One of their oldest members have died and Hospital Tom thinks that I am the man for the job. They say it’s real simple, I get assigned a day of the week, and that is my day to bring justice for black folk. Henry says the group has been around since 1920 and they kill white folk at random every time that a black person is murdered and the white criminals are left unpunished. White person’s life for a black person’s life; It ain’t about what right or wrong, its about getting even. That why we are going to kill the white folk in the same way they kill us black folk. If a black woman is stabbed to death by a white folk, then we’ll stab a white woman to death. If a black brother is shot up by white person, then we’ll shoot up a white man. Apart from gender, we ain’t going be picky, killing will be at random, any white man or women, don’t matter the age, fat, skinny, tall, short, ugly, pretty. Justice is blind and we will be too. Each member is responsible for their day of the week, and their day of the week alone. Their responsible for getting their own gun, own bullets, or knives and making sure they don’t get caught; but we never do. I am Sunday and I am responsible for bringing justice to black folk on God’s day, its a great honor, and I will not let down my people. “Your Day has come” is our saying, and that what I’ll tell the honker before I put em down. I know there are going to be black people, like Milkman, who won’t understand what we stand for, and will call us a bunch of crazy vigilantes. But they gotta understand the race war we in, the earth is soggy with black people’s blood and it times the white folk paid. We don’t call ourselves heros or martyrs, we are just a group of black men willing to take a risk for the greater good of blacks. We don’t tell anyone about what we do, not even the black folk we are avenging. We are doing what is right, and when you are doing what is right it don’t matter if you are recognized or praised, all that matters is its get done. When black folk look in the newspaper and see that white folk are dying too, they know someone looking out for them and that will be good enough for me. I am not just killing people, I am killing white people. Don’t matter who, they think we are all the same, bunch of dirty Negros, so they are all the same, bunch of hateful white folk. Only problem is I need money, I don’t got the money to buy guns, or bullets and definitely not grenades to avenge those black girls who got blown up at church by some hicks in Mississippi. Milkman says his auntie has got millions stashed away in gold hanging in a green bag from her roof and he will give me a share if I help him steal it. Pilate don’t care for money and I am sure she would be happy to know her gold went to getting revenge for her fallen brothers and sisters. I need that gold, I need that money, and Pilate pile of gold is my only option, can’t rob no bank. I got to do it soon too, the Seven Days always get things done on time and the other brothers are going to know if I fall behind schedule. Tomorrow night, we are going to get the job done, quick in and out, through Pilate’s side window, which she always leaves unlocked, no harm done. I’ll get what I need and show Milkman and all those who doubt the Seven Days, that only we can bring the justice that murdered black people truly deserve.
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