Santiago a mañana

Santiago a mañana


We never would have heard the beat if Jim had not forgotten his hat,

In our bedroom at Casa Brandaritz,

The old farm house, built in the 16th century,

Same family

Converted to a Casa to serve the Camino and more,


We would have missed the beat had Jim not remembered his hat in our bedroom at Casa Brandaritz

We would not have heard the beat had we not turned back to get Jim's hat from the bedroom that we had slept in at Casa Brandaritz


Because we would not have been there when she fell,

The Korean woman traveling with 2 other Korean women and a man, her husband?

We had just begun, 50 meters, maybe 75, when she fell

Tripped on broken stone and then almost hit by a car backing up

Helping her get up, with an ankle hurting

And taking out the Ace bandage we had carried 52 days,

The one I almost took out the emergency bag.

Putting arnica on her ankle and the bandage.


And the hugs, and kisses and tears and love

And Sue saying thank you with a bag of cherries.


Our hearts popped open and it opened our ears and we heard the beat, 



39.4 kilometers to Santiago,

The longing has subsided

Buen Camino now means I love you 


We can smell Santiago,

We can feel Santiago,

We can hear it, 

Calling us, loud and clear


Even the bikes,

The formerly hated bikes

Are no longer hated,

They too are responding to the beat of Santiago


It is a drum beat,

Ah I recognize it, 

It is the beat of my ancestors

The beat that says dance 

Dance although you are too tired to dance

Dance because the music is playing

And the music won't stop because your bones hurt,

The music says dance

And your aching body responds as if beyond your will

And all you can do is dance although your knees hurt

Dance with hamstrings crying

Dance with feet aching

Dance with knees saying enough


The music won't stop

And you body can't stop


What's the music

Is it Michael Jackson singing Billie Jean

Or is it "All my sisters and me, we are familee"

Or is it the Neville Brothers, singing Hey Pocky Way?

Or is Ernie K-Doe singing about his Mother in Law?

And in the distance, a song of the ages,

"When the saints go marching in,"

Nothing can stop you now

It's second line time,

Down and dirty, 

The umbrella's up, twirling with the beat

The umbrella's down on the ground, 

Oh wee there's a fire on the bayou

Big Chief calling 

But it ain't no call to war, it's call a call to peace

Hey Pocky Way, that's Zigaboo getting down with the beat


Second line,

Do it. 

Do it like you grew up in N'Orleans 

Do the it like the flambeaux carriers 

When the parade pauses and the coins fly and the fire water is free!


What you talkin' bout?

Talkin' bout Santiago -- 

the man, 

the myth 

the field of stars 


Patsy, your Mama Calling You

Come on Kami 

Is you from Treme or is you not?

Well second line like your Daddy taught you girl!

Let me see you do it

Naomi Smith I'm countin' on you to shake it

Shake like a bowl of soup. 



There's Ali at the Louisiana World's Fair 

Don't worry Naomi Brown, ain't no ghost, it's a happenin'

Beverly done made some gumbo

Steve is telling lies

Wali eatin that fried eel that Charles caught and Yvonne fried 

Doris are you makin a cake or fixin hair or is you typing out the latest edition of the Cannon Communicator? 

Bobby you brought the crawfish? 

I can smell them from here


Course Esther brought crawfish too cause Scott is picky and wants the one Beulah makes

Smile Ed, Allah said it's okay. 

To smile Today.

Thinking of my big brother Eugene, I met a Yoshiko in Villafranca del Bierzo

Only Japanese I met, 

She glad to see an African American on this thing they call the Camino 


Daddy we've been blessed, absolved of all sins by these here self-identified Irish monks 

When they kissed me on my forehead, one by one,

It was full immersion

Catholic notwithstanding 

And you is free!


And we've walked 12 kilometers without a pause,

Humph, Jim must think marrying me makes him from New Orleans. 

Not stopping to pee and just walking on like he can hear that New Orleans beat calling him to Sanitago!


Walking over 12 miles, up and down, and up again

Jim: Is you trying to get to Santiago today? 

Passing all those pilgrims.  Just walk on by

Slow down boy we'll git there tomorrow. 

Ain't no rush. 

Ain't no train to catch


Jim say:  What YOU taking bout girl?

If you don't know me by now, just keep on walkin'

Ain't no stoppin us now 

Haven't you tasted my pralines?

And show me, if you dare, who's goin challenge ME makin gumbo?

Haven't I danced with you,  with your New Orleans hips, these past 33 some years?

Haven't I been walking with you these past 52 days? 

Side by side? You leading, waiting for me? Me leading waiting for you?

If you don't know me by now, you ain't never ever goin' ever ever know me.


Haven't I Become Moe's dad

Real dad

Only dad

And Jacinta is OUR daughter

Not mine not yours.


You with your Irish last name

Don't you know the Cannons are from Donegal?


Why you suddenly trying to separate "fact" from "myth"

Yes I'm from New Orleans

I'm from Brooklyn

I'm from Garden City

New York, New York, the Big Apple

I'm from Spain

Didn't I tell you I perfectly understood the priest's homily in Igrexa San Juan, 

That little church in Furelos, 

The little town before Melide?

I did not know a word the priest said, but I perfectly understood.

If you don't know me by now,

Know I'm walking the Camino!


I'm Ermitas, that 80 year old lady passing me by, walking with her daughter Tanya and them from -- you say -- Andorras,

I'm Jenny, the Filipino who lives in Canada these last 20 years,

The man from Wales you labeled a smart ass,

Tomas from Hungary,

Arrora from Croatia,

Chen from Taiwan,

Chris and Jocelyn and all those other Australians we've met, 

Making this an Australian Camino, 

James, and all the others from England, from the United Kingdom, 

K- Karl from Germany, sleeping in the top bunk, 

Nicole from Montreal, Canada, sleeping in the bottom bunk,

Victor from Indianapolis -- give me a break -- I'm just trying to make some money

Janice from Scotland protecting my feet, Robert, from there as well,

Shalom from Israel, with my rude self,

Jose the receptionist at Pension Los Arcos,

Javier from Mexico, 

Carol one of so many from Vancouver, including Janet and Rob struggling with their disabled son,

Daniel from Germany who just left Switzerland after working there for five years, 

Lisa from Charleston who cannot imagine being quiet, teaching Evelyn to collect pins for her hat,

Pat, American turned Brit,

Tim and Leslie, white folks from South Africa who escaped Zambia and Zimbabwe -- don't label me,

Michael from Ireland, and all the Irish who can get to the Camino in a flash,

All the Spaniards, walking the Camino, working the Camino, living, 

The singer from China,

Pria, young, oh so young I am, born in India, a land I hate, and living in Toronto, and I admire Trump -- so there!!!

Pierre, the quiet man from France,

Ion from Romania, walking yet again,

Voula and Jim, oh so many Australians, 

Vivian from Holland, tired of investigating child porn, on a mission to absolution, 

The friend maker from Guatemala who we met in Triacastela, 

Sylvian from Portugal,

Janet the Presbyterian minister who loves Baltimore,

Birch Olinger from Florida, refusin' to take medication for my Parkinson's,

Gwen walking for my sister Helen Walker, International Woman of the Year who has MS

Eileen from Scotland,

Margery Buchanan who lived in Pigtown Baltimore!

Roy and Laurie, artist from California, Santa Barbara this time, but I'm all those other Californians too, 

Sonia with my African blood, from Brazil, leading the way of 5 other Brazilians with all our colors,

Antonio, the pizza maker from Italy, walking 40 kilometers a day,

The forgotten Swede,

Sheila from Silver Springs,

All the unnamed fellow Americans from across the U S of A --- Montana, Oregon, Washington State, Minnesota, Virginia, Alaska, Delaware, Michigan, Wisconsin, Massachusetts, Missouri, Kentucky, Nebraska, Colorado, New York, Iowa, Georgia, Ohio, Pennsylvania and of course

Pat born outside Baton Rouge, and mama still living there, black Jacob calling her grandma, 

Rozetta born in Hong Kong, now from Canada, and her hubby, Jan,

Pablo from Ukraine, 

Ian, the rich young man from Worcester, England, 

Jacob, 18 years old, the only African American you saw other than you Evelyn, traveling with Pat, my 61 year old white granddad, 

Bob, from Chicago hurting my knee as I rushed downhill, and going home early,

Chelsea, 43, walking with my mom Christine, turning 70 on the Camino, 

All those South Korean women walking the Camino, all by themselves,

Sometimes together

Suzie, from New Zealand, who helped you Evelyn with your toes,

Laurie, from Australia walking for my sister who waited to get well, and died instead


So many people walking this path, 

And yet at 1:00 pm we walk into A Rua alone. 

No -- there's one other -- 

And another ....


Hey Steve, Mr. Blind Man:  Is this a chorepoem for colored girls who considered suicide when Santiago is enuf, or is it the word made flesh, or the flesh made word, or the rantings of a crazed mind. What's the difference?


When I die

Walk the Camino

Walk all

Walk part

Any Camino

Walk at the beginning For me

Walk in the middle for You

Walk in the end For ALL 


Hey Moe ask Sean: Is this pre rap, post rap, no rap, used to be rap, fake rap, pretend rap, imagination rap, old folks rap, rap on by?