For the Unnamed

By Fred D'Aguiar

Unveiling the Story of the Unnamed: A Poetic Journey Through History and Injustice
Fred D'Aguiar's For the Unnamed recovers the forgotten narrative of the Black jockey who triumphed in the 1852 race between Pico's Sarco and Sepulveda's Black Swan. While history remembers the owners and horses, the jockey's name remains lost, a stark commentary on the era's racial inequities. This collection reimagines his story through diverse perspectives: owners, trainers, the horse, and the jockey's lover, creating a powerful mosaic of voices.
Experience a poignant exploration of identity, resilience, and the enduring struggle for recognition. D'Aguiar's verses evoke empathy, anger, and hope, inviting readers to reflect on the complexities of race relations and the importance of reclaiming marginalized histories. Perfect for poetry enthusiasts and those seeking a deeper understanding of Black history. Discover a collection that resonates with historical and social issues, offering a unique and moving perspective on a pivotal moment in American history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carcanet Press Ltd.
• Release date: Jun 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9781800173422

Fred D'Aguiar

Poet, novelist and playwright, Fred D’Aguiar was born in London to Guyanese parents. He grew up in Guyana, returning to England in his teens. He trained as a psychiatric nurse before reading English with African and Caribbean Studies at the University of Kent, Canterbury. He is the author of five novels, including, Children of Paradise, about Jonestown, Guyana. His first novel, The Longest Memory (Pantheon, 1994), won both the David Higham Prize for Fiction and the Whitbread First Novel Award. His eight poetry book and most recent, Letters to America is a UK, Poetry Book Society Choice. His numerous plays have been staged in the UK and broadcast on BBC radio. He was awarded the Guyana Prize in Fiction and in Poetry and was Judith E. Wilson Fellow at Cambridge University. He has lived in the US since the 1990s and taught at Amherst College, University of Miami and Virginia Tech. Currently he is Professor of English at University of California Los Angeles. 

Book preview

For the Unnamed

Fred D’Aguiar

CARCANET POETRY

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Call

Calling

Called

Call, Calling, Called

B. J.

Ethel

B. J.

Ethel

Ethel & B. J.

B. J. Looks Back

Dancing Salt Water

Joyce

Dancing Salt Water

Saloon One

Sepulveda

Dancing Salt Water

Sepulveda

Call, Calling, Called

B. J.

Dancing Salt Water

Black Swan

Saloon Two

Sarco

Pico

Joyce

Moon One

Black Swan

B. J.

Black Swan

B. J.

B. J. & Black Swan

Moon Two

B. J.

Black Swan

B. J.

Black Swan

Sepulveda

Black Jockey & Black Swan

Dancing Salt Water

Black Swan

Moon Three

Ethel

Ethel & Joyce

Saloon One & Two

Quadrille for the Unnamed

For the unnamed

Names

B. J. & Ethel

Black Swan

Note

About the Author

Copyright

For Dylan, Aniyah, Cruz & Erin

‘There’s no nowhere for something to become nothing.’

Alice Notley, The Speak Angel Series

The Players

Sarco & Black Swan – Pedigree Horses

Pico & Sepulveda – Owners of Sarco and Black Swan Respectively

Black Jockey (B. J.) – Aka Nameless; Rider of Black Swan

Ethel – His Partner

Dancing Salt Water (D.S.W.) – Trainer of Black Swan

Joyce – His Partner

Saloon – Voices of the City

Moon – Voices for All Inanimate Things

Call, Calling Called – Narrators, Out of Time

Call

We gather for him:

hundred-strong choir;

cathedral bell tongues;

dance troupe at traffic

lights break out on red

in the middle of the road;

stadium where beats

rock young, middle, old.

Bring him back from dead

too long, raise him, claim

him from some unknown

grave that kept him lost

in history, stranded outside

time, banned from his name.

Calling

Come back now for us

who need you more than

you should know or care

you seem big to us

time chained to your skin

stretched by our summons

fused to your good name

you cannot be us

your cord blood for ours

if we find your name

buried in your time

if you answer us

from your bed of skin

made by history

for us to sleep in

that keeps us awake

Called

Black jockey, stranger,

walks into a saloon,

heads turn, jaws drop

for no reason other

than your black skin.

You, nameless, strange

to us as much as to your

self in time, even if back

then you knew who

you were and did not

care if people called you

bad names, spat, cursed.

We bring you back to name

you, not for yourself,

you’re way past caring.

You’re here for us, as all

History must be if served

half-eaten for one group

while others starve fed

crumbs after a feast.

Dead, you ask us living

nothing. We need you,

fetched from ground

blessed by your bones

hungry for this light.

Call, Calling, Called

If we can name him then no one can blame

him for the glaring omission by his times.

Name him and we save him from attempts

to erase him from History that framed him.

He jockeyed Black Swan, rider and horse won

against wild favorite, Sarco, owned by Pico.

Poor Sarco, earmarked for victory, foxtrotted

through training, brushed more than pushed.

By contrast, Black Jockey worked Black Swan

in secret, at night, hidden in stables by day.

What the crowd saw made them gasp twice:

once at Black Jockey, twice, at thoroughbred.

Sweet fortunes placed on Sarco turned sour.

Token bets on Black Swan made sweet fortunes.

Newsmakers, why fail to name the Black Jockey

who championed Black Swan for Sepulveda?

Is Mansa Musa too much? Or conqueror

Abu Bakr II? Or magical Prester John?

His face on a coin, his name sung by choir,

his horse and him on a plinth in a square.

March, 20th, 1852, Los Angeles, California,

Black jockey no one saw fit to name,

won the biggest race in the west of that era,

start of a black tradition riding thoroughbreds.

If we could see him in some lucky audience

with the long gone and unjustly dead

this is what we would tell him, given the chance

to set things straight and bring him peace:

Forget that they failed to record your name

or accord you proper fame and reward;

feel the free power of a horse at full pelt;

be the one who shared that freedom;

keep it in your heart for the rest of your days

no matter they refused to grant you your name.

We name you now to right back then to put

to rest their hurt that saw you as stock.

We see you. Say your name. What you did brought

your horse fame, and left you as a mere