The Theme of The Barracoon by Zora Neale Hurston 

In this new series, I’m posting my critical work from my MFA program. In this edition, we’re exploring the use of theme in The Barracoon by Nora Neale Hurston. The Barracoon is a special book.

The overall theme of Barracoon is the ability of Hurston to write down an oral history of the last person alive, at the time, to go through the Middle Passage. The book is a combination of Hurston explaining how she met Kossula and also his story of how he was taken from Africa to America and his life afterward. The book is composed of Hurston’s notes on talking with Kossula and her faithful, dialectic recording of his story. Kossula’s english, as reflected in the text is different than similar works from the same period. The way he ends words with a double “ee” dipthong has to be reflective of his native language. She takes great pains to speak with him and also to get him to tell his story, “He wanted to know a few things about New York and when I had answered him, he sat silently smoking. Finally I told him I had come to talk with him. He removed his pipe from his mouth and smiled.” At some point, she figures that she should not come to his door empty handed and in Chapter 2 and Chapter 4 brings him a Virginia Ham and a basket of Georgia peaches. 

The real skill of this book is Hurston’s ability to reflect the story of Kossula without adding much of her own commentary. This leads to a feeling of transcription. For example this passage at the end of Chapter 5 reflects the entirety of the work: (Kossula is speaking)

“Our grief so heavy lak we cain stand it. I think maybe I die in my sleep when I dream about my mama. Oh Lor’!” Kossula sat silent for a moment. I saw the old sorrow seep away from his eyes and the present take its place. He looked about him for a moment and then said bluntly, “I tired talking now. You go home and come back. If I talkeed wid you all de time I cain makee no garden. You want know too much. You astee so many questions. Dat do, dat do, go on home.” I was far from being offended. I merely said, “Well when can I come again?” “I send my grandson and letee you know, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week.” (pg. 56) 

She has difficulty getting him to talk at certain points. The story is obviously a painful one and he wants to tell it but there is clearly deep emotion there, “I waited but not a sound. Presently he turned to the man sitting inside the house and said, “go fetchee me some cool water.” (pg. 24)

She begins Chapter Seven without adding additional commentary, “Cap’n Jim he tookee me. He make a place for us to sleepee underneath de house. Not on de ground, you unnerstand me. De house it high off de grounds and got de bricks underneath for de floor. Dey give us bed and bed cover, but tain ‘nough to keepee us warm.” 

Hurston’s ability to hear of the horrors of the Barracoon’s of Dahomey (the slave trading port in what is now Nigeria) and the beginnings of his slavery in the new world and the terrible trials he went through on the Clotilde and write it all down without commentary or putting any of her own feelings on the story is masterful. This creates a consistent dichotomy of the story and notes on how it was transcribed. It also creates a purity of the story. The reader does not have to dig through Hurston’s own thoughts and feelings to experience the slave trade through the eyes of Kossula. Based on the text, it is unclear how Hurston feels. However, the end of the book offers a few clues of her feelings, “I had spent two months with Kossula, who is called Cudjo, trying to find the answers to my questions. Some days we ate great quantities of clingstone peaches and talked. Sometimes we ate watermelon and talked. Once it was a huge mess of steamed crabs. Sometime swe just are. Sometimes we just talked. At other times neither was possible, h just chased me away. He wanted to work in his garden or fix his fences. He couldn’t be bothered. The present was too urgent to let the past intrude. But on the whole, he was glad to see me, and we became warm friends. At the end the bond had become strong enough for him to wish to follow me to New York. It was very sad morning in October when I said the final goodbye and looked back the last time at the lonely figure that stood on the edge of the cliff that fronts the highway. He had come out to the front of his place that overhangs the Cochrane Highway that leads to the bridge of that name. He wanted to see the last of me….”I am sure that he does not fear death. In spite of his long Christian fellowship, he is too deeply pagan to fear death. But he is full of trembling awe before the altar of the past.” 

Barracoon is a master telling of another’s story. It is a shame that it did not find a publisher in its day and was published later. The ability to make a true-telling of this story and write down and otherwise oral tradition is not only a central theme but an important preservation of the African diaspora.