Academic journal article African American Review

Bayou Ballad

Academic journal article African American Review

Bayou Ballad

Article excerpt

Oh, have you heard, and it was not long ago, how they killed the sweetest singer of cajun zydeco?

Amedee Ardoin was brought to play a fais-do-do near Mamou. The summer's heat bore through the roof and walls of that wooden-tin dance hall. The waltzers and two-steppers did not notice through their whiskey eyes that the singer who had not moved from his seat before the crowd was soaked to the skin in sweat, was blinded by the salty water beading on his face.

By and by, one dark joli blon did glance at this and of habit to others carelessly offered a white handkerchief to him as he smiled between songs. The fete went on with the gaiety of hees and haws, claps and howls as he chuned and soothed many a weary soul. But then, when it was over, when the moon shone high through the still, piney woods, rough white hands found his neck, fists of hate punched his head, his groin, his chest, pearlized boots kicked his breathless body on the ground. …

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