Oh, Humanity

Greetings Earthlings...

2020-05-20T09:41:00.000-07:00

Bienvenidos. Welcome. Enkoan Dehna Metachu.

I'm scooting around this earth on a focused journey to wake humanity up. Frustrated at the dichotomies, injustices and imbalances of the planet. Believing in the power of the people, in the power of global change. I'm living and breathing a new existence into this realm.
Trying to re-connect our spirits to the sacred. Activated. Playing with words to explain (and heal) that which they call the beautiful struggle. Spreading information like a jedi mind master in search of a solution.
I have some. Visions, too. Join me, won't you?

As we dance on dreams of liberation and peace, there’s hope of neutralizing humanity to the point of true world balance. Making dichotomies invisible, disparities a memory, inequality a thing talked about only in past tense, injustice a thing no one recognizes. Where we erase —wars. racism. hunger. oppression. human rights abuses. inequity. generalizations. stereotypes. discrimination. cultural mis-representation. population control. white supremacy. imperialism. neo-colonialism. elitism. And all those other isms— and non-sensical tactics of greed and hate, from our vocabulary.

And replace them with love, sprituality, truth, freedom, empowerment, acceptance, community-and treat each other like humans should...

"Breathe reality into "human rights". I'm over the rhetoric".

Signed,

Peaceful warrior
Selome Araya

Africa Unite!

resource connector network

2008-01-31T13:21:00.000-08:00

Out of all the things I’m concerned about in this world, the stark dichotomy that exists amongst the people of this planet is the thing that perplexes me the most. I commit myself to answering the question:

Why are some people able to live with an excess of resources, opportunities, and peace, while many only receive the bare minimum to survive and find themselves in a constant battle with life?

As we all know, humanity is imbalanced and there is and always has been a stark dichotomy in access to resources and opportunities, basic life necessities, and overall quality of existence.

I first noticed this when i was 14 years old, as I began volunteering with foster children.

I started volunteering at the age of 14; working with abused and neglected children who had to be removed from their homes-also known as “foster” children. Coming from a loving household, I automatically developed compassion and empathy for these children. I often wondered: Why did they have to be born into this sort of existence and I didn’t? It didn’t make sense to me, and ultimately, I didn’t think it was “fair”. Perhaps there were greater reasons, but my 14 year old mind just couldn’t make sense of it. All I thought of was how unfair life could be for some, while it was relatively easier for others. From that moment on, this notion of “fairness” crept into my spirit and I haven’t let it go. But it also inspired me to use my position to help make their lives a little better.

The imbalanced state that humanity remains in continues to perplex me today. And as I and my experiences have grown, I have seen this imbalance manifest in a myriad of ways- racially, economically, politically, occupationally, environmentally, systematically, institutionally, educationally, spiritually, access-wise (health, water, freedom etc.), food-wise, and so on. During my numerous international travels and experiences overseas I have also seen dichotomies illustrated in various ways, where people live in houses made of cardboard boxes, have no water, no means of transportating themselves, nothing to cover their bodies from harsh conditions, and it goes on.

It automatically makes me draw a comparison to the excess and luxuries that people in other societies enjoy; like, being able to buy a $500 bag, for example.

It's not a judgment, it's a reality. But it's a reality that doesn't make sense to me. (And yes, that is an exaggeration, but it still does occur).

It still remains “unfair” (as myself at 14 years old thought), and at the end of the day, no one, no thing, no spiritual or religious belief, and no ideology can make sense of this, at least not for me.

However, as I have recognized these dichotomies as being “our” reality, I have also decided that “we” and the people in need have the power to do something about it. I may not be able to make sense of the “why”, but I can take part in facilitating the change.

Interested in learning how?

Details coming soon!!!

to my children

2008-01-31T12:54:00.000-08:00

She’s our mama
Rich
Spiritual
In all the right places
She nourishes us
Gives us our identity, our foundation
She was hurt
By many dark moments
By many cold people
And she’s still healing
I can hear her

As she asks us to be kind to her

Don’t be mad babies
I am still love
I am still strong
I am still a reflection of you
They tried to rip us apart
Divide us into fragments
Tell us that we weren’t beautiful
And silence our essence

But you know mama
She wouldn’t let that happen
She gives soil to the children
Fertilizing their minds
With traditions that shake up any invasion
And crumble it into the nothingness from which it came

I give to you these powers
These powers of resistance
These powers to define yourselves as beautiful
These powers to stand up
To rise
To unite
To take back your land
To hold each other’s hands
You are all my children
And that makes you each other’s siblings

That makes you shine brighter than any mineral they steal from my womb
From any project they design in our name
Any tactics they have to wipe us out
Any weapons they import to keep us fighting

Just like me
You are strength
You are integrity
You are divinity
You are sacred
You are beautiful
You are humanity
You
Are where it all began

And you
Can bring it all back

The peace
The justice
The structures we had
The systems we built
The way of life that we created
The love between family
The light in humanity
The spiritual integrity that defines us

It is time
To lift me up
I am still your mama
And I know you
I know you are bigger than
Genocide
I know you are more than
War
I know you are more than
Hating your own

You are free now
Free to hug yourselves again
To be proud
To look in the mirror
And see beauty
Don’t let them define it for you

It is the thing that will bring us down

Your mama is here
Watching
Praying
Listening
Hurting

I believe in you
My children
My children

My children spread out
All over the world

I believe in you, too

Please love each other
Please hold each other
Please unite with each other

If not for me
For the ancestors

Love
Mama Africa

here, in this sphere

2008-01-29T11:14:00.000-08:00

Here, in this sphere, we gather ‘round to engage in fruitful dialogues of the mind. Joining force with our spirits, we walk with a conviction that some of us were born into this life to recognize the light in those who walk in darkness. To reflect the truest potential of humanity, from so sacred a space it’s unspeakable. There are some master’s who understand that all that is happening is a manifestation of that which has been willed by the people.

And though spirit is powerful, we are co-creators in this life of ours.

Exactly who or what the people is, well that has not yet been defined. Definitions will vary, as everyone is granted his or her ability to interpret. Interpretation is a freedom we all hold. We hold this gift with honor, for it is the thing that allows us to use our minds to make sense of things, for ourselves. You see, we, we know that we must be connected to what we believe in, or what we believe in will be a mere extension of what someone else believes in, holding no personal connection to our own self.

Detrimental, that is.
Dangerous, as such.
Non-guided, souls- the result.

The power of the coined phrase “the laws of attraction” merits a moment in this sphere. Concentrating. Knowing something will come to life is one of the greatest ways to give birth to your dreams. Listening to your heart speak, your hearts’ speech; I mean really listening to yourself and paying attention.

That’s what we do, here, in this sphere. We invite you to engage with us. Pick up a piece of fruit. Your spirit is waiting…

A Little Girl is Dreaming: Shoebox

2008-01-23T18:37:00.000-08:00

shoebox

a little girl is dreaming. she comes across a bird; slips him a leaf, and goes on about her business. cheyenne loves ice cream. Mint chocolate chip is her favorite. She walks to the park on Thursday nights to speak to ms. Lollipun, the local breadmaker who teaches capoeira in the park. Cheyenne is too young to join; so she takes out a piece of paper, a camera, and some tape, and documents the experience. cheyenne lives in a shoebox, just east of candylane, up the road from twister. she enjoys making lemonade and tickling her own feet. One day, she walked into the library and started speaking really loudly. Why. Cheyenne doesn’t like rules. her shoebox doesn’t follow the speed limits when it cruises down the highway. It likes its freedom. So does she. Naturally, they vibe.

being okay with being you

2008-01-23T15:28:00.000-08:00

I notice zombies’ everyday as I float about this here world. Many people, I notice, spend more than half of their lives in a cage, boxed in to an idea of how they (think) they are supposed to live. They struggle all the while trying to refute the truth their heart speaks to them. For it’s silently shouting: don’t be afraid to be yourself; while society and their insecurities whisper even louder: but, it’s easier this way.

There’s not much difficulty in just blending in and going through those monotonous motions, doing things (or not) based on the opinions of others, frozen in one’s tracks by anticipated judgments, and limited by un-written, made up “rules” that came from somewhere that no one can ever identify.

Essentially, these “rules” are an accumulation of thoughts oozing from souls afraid to live on purpose, uncomfortable in their own skin, and timid beyond a reasonable explanation.

So, us zombie observers turn around, look them in the eye, and ask the question: is the one who lives this mundane existence really living fully and passionately? Do these binds allow one to spread wings and be free in all aspects of one’s life? Or are they providing the perfect ingredients for living a life of limitation and fear?

Well, upon conclusion, we learned that eventually you begin to understand the language your heart has been speaking all along. You start by wondering if there isn’t something greater for you to do with your time in this life. And you slowly come to realize that living your life by the standards of others, or simply for others, is a sure way to suppress your spirit into a drab slab of blah.

Then begins the mental peeling away of the box, the gradual stripping of the fear, and embracement of one’s truest essence.

There goes limitation! (Wave, you won’t see it again).A smile follows. Your skin settles into itself.

And now, you may live your life.

The Battle Between Starbucks and Ethiopian Coffee Farmers

2008-01-23T13:17:00.000-08:00

*news article from December 2006

From Bean to Cup: The Battle Between Starbucks and Ethiopian Coffee Farmers

Every day in the early hours of the morning, the farmers of the Oromia region head out to the coffee plantations in the Ethiopian highlands for a day’s work. Often walking barefoot for miles to arrive, the farmers use their bare hands to pick the coffee beans off of steep mountains in high altitudes and the blazing sun. For these farmers and their families, coffee farming is the only means to earn a living in one of the poorest countries in the world. They earn less than a dollar a day.

Halfway across the world, sleepy office workers line up at the Starbucks on 14th St. in New York City, ready to pay three dollars for their first jolt of caffeine. Starbucks, with over 11,000 stores worldwide and annual earnings of over $7 billion, receives much of its coffees from countries like Ethiopia.

Since its founding in 1985, the company has promoted fair trade as part of its corporate image. Starbucks has courted its politically correct customers with “Fair Trade” Ethiopian coffee in lovely cut out packaging. But the relationship between the corporation and the farmers is more complicated than it appears. Recently, there has been a growing controversy over whether or not Ethiopian farmers and the Ethiopian economy are receiving fair treatment from the multinational corporation. This debate has sparked a fervent campaign
by fair trade organizations, workers’ unions, and the Ethiopian government, who are publicly challenging the ethics of the company.

Conducting Business Responsibly

Starbucks maintains that it enjoys a positive relationship with coffee farmers. With their “commitment to social responsibility”, Starbucks developed an integrated approach to coffee sourcing with C.A.F.E. (Coffee and Farmer Equity Practices), a set of socially responsible coffee-buying guidelines. This sustainable strategy is said to improve working conditions for farmers, helping them earn more while protecting the environment.

Starbuck commits itself to paying premium prices for all of its coffee and attempts to purchase coffee that is certified as Fair Trade Coffee. “Starbucks global purchases of Fair Trade Certified coffee totaled 11.5 million pounds in fiscal 2005, making it the largest purchaser of Fair Trade Certified coffee in North America” the company stated in a brochure. “In addition to paying premium prices for all of our coffees, our investment in social development projects and providing access to affordable loans in coffee growing regions has been recognized for its leadership within the industry,” Starbucks said in a press release statement in October 2006.

Trademark Blocking

However, Ethiopian farmers believe they are receiving the short end of the stick in this relationship. While Starbucks continues to generate billions of dollars each year, Ethiopian farmers and their supporters believe that Starbucks does not wish to see them or their country, reap comparable profits.

Oxfam International, a British human rights organization, claims that Starbucks tried to block the Ethiopian governments’ attempt to trademark the names of coffees grown in its Harar, Yirgacheffe, and Sidamo regions, denying the impoverished country possible revenues of up to $80 million. The U.S. National Coffee Association (NCA) attempted to block trademark efforts, and Oxfam accused Starbucks of being behind these efforts. Although Starbucks denies this claim, Oxfam spokeswoman Jo Leadbetter says there is validity in their claim. “We have heard from a number of sources that actually Starbucks was involved in alerting the U.S. coffee association to block these applications and that it ‘stinks of corporate bullying,’” Leadbetter said.
According to Oxfam, for every cup of coffee sold at Starbucks, farmers in Ethiopia only early about $.03, receiving a very small portion of the profits that their coffee generates from consumers. “Ethiopian coffee farmers often collect about 10 percent of the profits from these coffees. The rest goes to the coffee industry players that can control the retail price, the international importers, distributors— and roasters like Starbucks,” Oxfam stated on its Make Trade Fair website. In response, OXFAM has launched a fair trade campaign to support farmers like the ones in the Ethiopian highlands. “Starbucks has engaged in some positive initial steps in helping coffee farmers living in poverty. I don’t understand why they won’t take the next step and come to the table to discuss Ethiopia’s proposal in good faith,” stated Seth Petchers, Oxfam America’s coffee program manager.

Ethiopia coffee industry

Ethiopia, known as the birthplace of Arabica coffee from its Kaffe region, depends on the production of coffee for its economy. Coffee production is so important to the agriculture-based Ethiopian economy that 50-60% of its export trade comes from coffee income. The industry employs one out of every four people. An estimated 15 million coffee farmers and their families depend on coffee for their survival.

Coffee is also a central element of Ethiopian culture, with traditions that date back to the 10th century, when the first tree was domesticated in the south-western highlands of the country. Coffee is so important to the daily routine of life in Ethiopia that “coffee ceremonies” happen daily throughout the country. A third of the national production is consumed domestically.

Starbucks’ potential impact on the Ethiopian market

Should Ethiopia be successful in trade marking its beans, it will enable the country to control the use of its beans in the market, giving its farmers a larger portion of the retail price. "Securing the trademark for its Sidamo, Harar and Yirgacheffe coffee beans could have allowed the country to increase its negotiation leverage through control of the names and ultimately (derive) a greater share of the retail price in the global market," Ethiopia's Foreign Ministry said in a statement.

The potential benefits for the Ethiopian market are enormous, according to Hailu Fitsum, the Second Secretary of Trade Investment at the Ethiopian Embassy. “When producers can grow and prosper by not only improving production and quality but also by building up the value of their intellectual property portfolios, then everybody in the coffee industry – including partners in retail and distribution as well as consumers – reap benefits.” Fitsum adds that in a case like Ethiopia’s, “Stronger negotiating power would enable millions of coffee farmers and traders to prosper and invest in the future of these fine coffees.”

Ethiopia’s Position

Tadesse Meskela, the representative for the Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union in Ethiopia, agrees with Fitsum. According to Meskela, Starbucks sells the coffee for $14.00 per pound, but only pays $1.20 per pound, which does not even cover the cost of production.

However, Mr. Meskela explained that the coffee farmers’ issue is also with the World Trade Organization, not only with Starbucks. In a telephone interview, he said, “The WTO controls a huge amount of the profit trade and a change needs to be made in international trade laws. The price we [farmers] receive is very low and it’s lower because of unfair trade laws.”

Meskela is working hard to save his 74,000 impoverished coffee farmers, and he is on a mission to find buyers who are willing to pay a fair price for their coffee. Meskela is also the main character in Black Gold, a documentary that juxtaposes the experiences of the coffee farmers with that of the consumers who purchase the product on the other side of the world. “This film highlights the vulnerability of coffee farmers and the disconnect that exists between poor farmers and huge profits. Oxfam seeks to correct the imbalances of power at the root of unfair trade,” stated Petchers.

Starbucks’ Position

In response to Oxfam’s campaign, Starbucks has launched a counter-attack. “We have never filed an opposition to the Ethiopian government’s trademark application, nor claimed ownership to any regional names used to describe the origin of our coffees,” the company said. Dub Hay, Starbucks Senior Vice President of Coffee and Global Procurement told BBC radio, "We have not been involved in trying to block Ethiopia's attempts. We did not get the NCA involved; in fact it was the other way around. They were the ones who contacted us on this.”

While Starbucks denies being behind the trademark-blocking process, the company doesn’t think that trade marking is in the best interest of the farmers and the Ethiopian economy. “Were trademarks to be implemented -- roasters might shy away from buying the coffees for fear of becoming embroiled in complicated legal disputes. Or worse, they may buy the coffees and just market them without the trademarked names. Letting the high quality beans go to market without a geographic identification would completely undermine the value of the brand,” Starbucks said in a statement.

The Ethiopian government also asked Starbucks to sign an agreement that would enable Ethiopia to have ownership of its coffees. However, Starbucks refused to sign such an agreement, as the company believes that if Ethiopia were to trademark its products it would be excluding itself from the market. According to Hailu, this is grossly offensive. “The only way this statement could be accurate is if Ethiopia completely mismanages the trademarks once they have been acquired, and I would hope that Starbucks is not assuming that Ethiopia is not capable of managing the Intellectual Property assets related to one of its most important exports,” Hailu says.

As an alternative to trademarking products, Starbucks suggests the development of geographic certification programs. Through the certification programs, a country can be identified as the origin of a product. Starbucks says these systems are more effective than registering trademarks for geographically specific names, such as the regional names the Ethiopian government is trying to trademark. The trademark signifies the manufacturer of a good or product while certification identifies that the product meets quality product standards. Alain Poncelet, Starbucks’ head of Green Coffee Purchasing told Spiegel Online, the German online newspaper, that his company “is all for Ethiopia ‘protecting its regional names,’ just not through trademark.”

This position is not receiving much press, however. The company received over 70,000 phone calls and faxes from concerned consumers showing support for the farmers. But does such negative publicity have any affect on the house-hold name and billion dollar company? “Probably not,” says a Starbucks employee in New York City who spoke on condition of anonymity. “People are so hooked on coffee that they are not going to be affected by something that is happening so far away. The only people protesting Starbucks are a minority of activists. Everyone else just thinks about their own problems.” The employee also spoke highly of Starbucks treatment of its employees. “They treat their employees better than most corporate companies and they give a lot back to the community,” he said.

Power positioning

As Meskela pointed out, the struggle between the coffee farmers and Starbucks doesn’t just address the issue of trademark rights. It also highlights the way coffee farmers are almost entirely left out of the trading industry between governments and corporations. The issue addresses the reality that farmers in “developing” countries don’t have much bargaining power in the international trade sector.

Senait Assefa, a resident of New York from Ethiopia, believes that strengthening the position of coffee farmers in the international market should be the focus of the efforts, not Starbucks. “The coffee producers should band together to control the supply of coffee in the international market, thereby enabling themselves to dictate their own terms (similar to how oil producing countries manipulate the price of oil by reducing or increasing production & supply)”, said Assefa. However, Assefa admits that this might not work. “While oil is a resource only few countries are endowed with, almost anybody can grow coffee,” she added.

Although coffee is a crop that can grow in different regions, the high quality of Ethiopian coffee is what makes it so unique. As Ethiopian farmers continue to work hard to produce such fine quality coffee, their position in the international trade market is just beginning to receive worldwide attention, thanks to the tireless work of Meskela and others. While the battle to trademark their coffees continues, the coffee farmers are also left to struggle with trade laws that make them invisible in the chain of international players.

Eyes of Africa

2008-01-23T09:31:00.000-08:00

Mis-Representation at its Best:
Perceptions of a Continent Through Foreign Eyes
*1st published in February 2007 in Pambazuka News

Ask anyone what they think of “Africa” and you may receive a response related to poverty, AIDS, hunger, ‘tribalism’ or animals. Trails of pity might linger in their words as a hint of disgust shimmers in their eyes. They may give an example of how they helped to “Save Darfur” or dreamed of adopting an “African orphan”. Most likely the view of the continent is that it is not a continent at all, but one large country, where everyone speaks the same language, eats the same food, wears the same type of clothing, and creates the same type of art. Yes, in their eyes, “Africa” is a homogenous place of simple people with simple activities.

But, for someone who has never been to the continent, can they be blamed for this ignorance? The media and “humanitarian” field does an incredible job of mis-representing the birth of civilization and projecting it as a down-trodden place of mishaps and has-beens, a place of disease, poverty, and chaos, and a place devoid of any history or future. Even today, it is still depicted as “The Dark Continent”, with dark tales of gore and war. And it’s not just the media. So-called “experts” , practitioners, and scholars perpetuate these stereotypes to no end, continually feeding the mis-representation engine.

This cynicism is not to be taken lightly, but to make a loud statement. “Africa” has been placed at the bottom of every pole on the international scale. It is deemed as possibly one of the worst regions on earth, and this notion is perpetuated continually with images and language, misinformation and racism, and media blitz and negative attention. Very few media outlets provide their viewers and readers with positive information about the plethora of countries and events occurring on the continent. For that would be mundane and not “sexy”. Yes, it seems that “Africa” is sexy these days. A crisis in “Africa” gets more response, more money, and more attention than a positive occurrence.

Granted, there are many issues affecting numerous countries in Africa. But I’m appalled at the fact that every time I hear of this place my family and ancestors call home, it is in a negative light, in a pitiful light, in a savagery light, in a deadly light. What I fail to understand is how all other elements of life are negated for the sake of a “good story” and a dramatic plea for funds. I have seen with my own eyes many elements of life that are beautiful beyond explanation, and I beg someone to explain to me why these elements aren’t projected.

Recently I was skimming Elle Magazine (yes, clearly not a place to be reporting on affairs of an international nature) and was deeply disturbed by the only two pages dedicated to “Africa”. The article disturbed me so much that I had to write a letter to the Editor expressing my utter disgust at their depiction. Africa was [mis] represented as a place where everyone is dying, has AIDS, or who is thirsty and hungry. There was no context provided, nor was there any balance that spoke of the positive elements of the continent. There was no mention of how people are responding to their own needs. All that was discussed were ways in which Europeans are “saving” this dreadful place from falling further into its cave of darkness. I couldn’t help but wonder how many readers of this pretentious high-fashion magazine walked away with a haunting perception of a place that they have never been to. If I were reading about “Africa” for the first time, I surely would think of it as a place that is just a hot mess of hell.

As a graduate student at Columbia University, where so-called “experts” teach aspiring public health students about “Africa”, I experience the same generalizations and stereotypes being perpetuated. These “experts” have dedicated their lives to joining the “savior” movement that’s happening in certain circles of humanitarian assistance. And so, “women” are all victims and need outsiders to help them do everything. “Child soldiers” need to be rehabilitated by people from European countries. “Women and children” need outsiders to intervene and “save” them from the heathens that are the men in their lives. Everyone is dying of some disease. Every home seems to be in a dilapidated state with no food, water, or electricity. Almost everybody is in need of a program designed from abroad. People don’t know (or remember how?) to grow their own food, so they need continual food aid packets dropped in their “communities”. And everyone belongs to a “culture” and has traditional ways that they live their lives, in their villages. “Health” must be shaped from a Western point of view. It sickens me to hear how excited they become as they talk about the next country they are traveling to, to implement their pre-designed projects on people. They are the Lords of Poverty and aren’t even conscious of the stereotypes they carry with them as they lecture. And they’re producing an entire pedigree. Many of the students make drastic generalizations and proclamations about the countries they have lived in (for three months) and become self-proclaimed spokespersons for this region of the world.

There are also many campaigns today that continue to project negative perceptions of Africa onto the world. For people who have no exposure, direct contact, or knowledge of Africa, these campaigns are down right dangerous and counter-productive. Instead of “raising awareness” about important causes, they invoke pity for “the other” and perpetuate the concept that Africa is backwards and in need of saving. The campaigns I am referring to are the “I AM AFRICAN” campaign, the “Red” campaign from The Gap clothing company, and the numerous “Save Darfur” campaigns occurring in the world. As I walked down the streets of Manhattan today, I retained some of the advertisement for the “Red” campaign at the Gap. It pleads for people to help end AIDS in Africa and to save women and children from dying. Again, another universal representation of Africa for all of the Gap Corporation consumers. The millions of Gap Corporation consumers.

The “I AM AFRICAN” campaign is one that may have good intentions, but is grossly offensive and appalling. Appalling because an African woman is behind it, offensive because of the feathers, face paint, and European superstars posing as “Africans”. So now we have Gwyneth Paltrow with striped paint on her cheek, a plethora of jewelry on her neck, with the phrase I AM AFRICAN across her chest. I understand the point is to educate people on the AIDS crisis on the continent, but could it not have been done in a more respectful, tactful, and tasteful manner?

But more importantly, what these campaigns do is make “AIDS in Africa” a commodity, something that is fashionable and marketable, and makes the only reference people have to the continent one that is linked to death and poor health. To have celebrities (who are not of African descent) say that they are “African” is to imply that since they are now “African” they also somehow have AIDS. It’s sending a message that being African is synonymous with AIDS.

International Non-Governmental Organizations who do business in “Africa” are no better. They spend much of their time and resources depicting the continent as a place that only they can “fix”, and spew out endless facts to justify their own causes. Yes, they are there to save the lowly Africans, and the more dramatic the picture or story, the more support they receive. And more importantly, the longer they stay in business.

What people fail to understand is that, while it is imperative to raise awareness about the global poverty that is the reality for billions of people around the world, it is not helpful in the least to project an entire continent through a one-dimensional lens that is lined with despair and imbalance.

If people are going to campaign and discuss such despair, they need to provide context and background information, and underlying root causes of issues like AIDS and other poverty-related concerns. To simply present them independent of any other information is to represent people as helpless, hopeless victims who need saving.

It is time for a change. It is time for “Africa” to be uplifted more often in the media. We need to hear more about the other dimensions of life for “Africans”; those that are not living in abject poverty and dying every second from whichever health concern is “hot” at the moment.

There’s music, there’s movement, there’s knowledge, there’s progress, there’s love, there’s tradition, there’s strength, there’s beauty, there’s nature, there’s power, there’s wealth, there’s health, there’s humanity, there’s history, there’s unity, there’s peace, there‘s LIFE.

Sometimes, wouldn’t it be great to hear about these elements too? Because the “Africa” that I know is much more than death.

sanity on a friday

2008-01-23T09:24:00.000-08:00

during a rough patch in 2006

I, ponder

Dear [ ]

There are times in my life when I feel like my sanity is sliiiiiiiiipping away.

I wonder where my sense goes. And why it gradually becomes so hard to make. Today I am feeling as overwhelmed as I have ever felt. And I can’t rest. Stopping or slowing down are luxuries I can’t afford these next few weeks. But let me tell you, my body aches to be able to read my new Arundhati Roy books, get a full body massage, watch a funny movie, and eat ‘til my jeans don’t fit. You know, all the escapes and pamper-tings.

I am stopping for the moment to eat in solitude. But eating in solitude in New York City really means eating in a bright and noisy joint that’s near your livelihood.

And stopping for a moment is a blessing. There are times (like, uh, now), when I feel as if I’m too scattered to even keep up with myself. Let alone all of the people, all of the projects, all of the unfinished commitments, all of the ideas, all of the plans, all of the things on my to do list. My to DO list is something that belongs at Knott’s Scary Farm. I retrospect on my life and am amazed at all of the things I have been engaged with. But on this Friday, I wonder if it really got my full attention and potential. I wonder if I half-assed so many things as a result of my busy, energetic, and idealistic personality. I wonder what type of mark I’ve actually left. Am I what people really see me as? How in the world is Selome really ‘saving the world’ when hers periodically gets tipped on its axis and doesn’t make much sense to her? As usual, in these times of chaos, I question it all. And it feels like IT all questions ME.

And then those questions lead to more. Questions.

And I remember, that good Lawd, I already know the answers.

It’s because I have always had a fear of sitting still. Of being alone with my (loud) silent thoughts. Afraid to not have anything or anyone around me, keeping me occupied so I’m not reminded. Being afraid to admit that I don’t have it all together, contrary to what the world projects on me. Being too proud to admit that, shit, I got issues too. Afraid to accept that after years of hearing all that you are perfect, you have such a beautiful spirit, you are always happy, you are marriage material, you do such good work, you are such an inspiration, you are always positive, you are sunshine, you are you are you are nonsense, I internalized it all and believed my own hype. Naturally pain would set in as I slowly realized, ahhhhhh, a lot of it IS hype. Because is anyone ever reeealllly happy allllll the time? No. But gosh darnit you couldn’t convince people that I actually did get sad. [[so I ask myself, what are you projecting and hiding to make folks believe this??]]

It’s been the work of a woman searching for a pearl in the Atlantic Ocean to recognize that I’m not all of those things all the time for everyone. Recognize that it’s a part of this human experience to sometimes be weak, and confused, and scared, and lonely, and mad, and unhappy, and just in a ‘regular’ mood. Ha. To even call it a ‘regular mood’ is an eerie thing. Just regular. Why does it have to be regular? Why can’t it just BE? I just AM right now. Not defined by any of the adjectives chosen for me on a given day.

After years of being ‘on’, it’s important for me to turn ‘it’ off occasionally. And that occasion comes more and more, and well received might I add. I produced a severe case of people-pleasing tendencies and stretched myself farther than necessary. Hence the ‘social butterfly’ complex and label, hence the compromising-my-needs-so-that-I-can-see-another-person-smile disease. Wanting this person to like me and hoping this person knows that I’m fresh. The occasion to shut that down presents itself more, again. And with open arms, again! At the end of the day, it’s not about this person or that project or whatever other external matter I’ve fixated my spirit on, it’s about what Selome needs and feels and does internally. It’s about balance man. It’s about me taking care of me first.

Or, simultaneously?

I sing the same song every six months. Revert back to self, Selome. Focus on YOUR needs, Selome. Stay consistent with writing and exercise and cooking and dancing and therapy and sleep and quiet time and leisure reading and book ideas and learning how to make documentaries and…

Instead, I stay consistent with other peoples problems, helping and supporting other people, volunteering, community organizations, work, school, conferences, social commitments, phone calls (with a full mailbox every other damn day), emails (200 a minute), the f’ed up world, social justice, and global poverty.

And we see that the external always take the lead in my life.

And, so it is again. I have made progress in some of these realms. See, the positive. But I recognize how I’m built and what moves me. I am extroverted by nature, whatever that really means. Well, I discovered what it means! It means…one that receives energy from external things and people. Well, if that doesn’t define me, then Webster isn’t real.

a freestyle

2008-01-23T01:17:00.000-08:00

She said whatchoo wanna be

I said: alive

I said alive?

What’s that look like?

It’s like…
Living on purpose
Being free
Eating mashed potatoes
And peaches
Uplifting mama Africa
Stopping International NGO’s from pimping Mama Africa
Taking away disparities in America
Inequalities
You know
All the bumstickety little things that
Make life a struggle for some
But then
Being alive
Also means playtime in the pond
Getting your dance on
Like having conversations with kids
And playing in water
Then you start to remember
They still hanging nooses
Making us run like gooses
Geese
Reacting
Again
And again
As you walk the dog
You wonder when we get to
JUST walk the dog
Instead of walking the dog
And then fighting the judicial dogs
Damn, they doggin us
We doggin each other
Guns
They run amuck
We do it
The police do it too
We feel trapped
We make Sunday dinners
And have birthday parties
Then
It’s back to fighting
But when do we get to have
Sunday dinners
And go to sleep
When do we get to
Live in peace
Justice first they say
Justice
First
First we have to
Spend time
Thinking of a master plan
To re-define a paradigm
That ain’t never gave a damn
That ain’t never cared
To see us rise
So
We rise
Up ourselves
We rise up ourselves
We rise
Up
Ourselves
We get on planes
And greet our Diaspora
We get on planes
And kiss Mama Africa
We get on planes
And ain’t never felt freer
Cuz see
We know we ain’t really living
In a free country
We know
It’s dumb expensive
Freedom for some
At the
Expense
Of oppression for
The others
At the expense-of
Expens-ive
Yea
That’s the same
Basically
It’s costing something
Costing life years
Quality of life
Diminishing
Piling on the stress
Add a Kentucky Fried Chicken
And liquor store on every corner
Equals
Obesity
Alcoholism
Oh wait
We need to stop complaining
Why is it called complaining
Instead of voicing the truth
Storytellin’
Systematically
Our power gets silenced
By labeling us whiners
Whino’s
Complacent
If we stood up
Turned our frustration into
A solution
The disparities would stop
Really?Solutions would mean a straight-up
Revolution
Why?Because this system
This
System
Is arranged so fiercely
That even solutions
Don’t have long impacts
Even solutions
Can’t be sustained
That’s why we say
Revolutionize the whole joint
That’s change the whole joint
Meaning
Re-arrange
Re-a-change
Re-a something
Cuz this ain’t working
And we’re tired
We are tired of: always.having.to.battle
We gotta put on our combat boots
Every week
Every week
Everyone
Gets weak
So weak
“Look around, things are so weak, people are so weak, sometimes, sometimes I feel like cryin”.
We fall back
To thinking like people who have never been here
“Everything is perfect in that country”
Then
We start reaching again
For that rotten pie
Forgetting that that pie
Gives us ulcers
Oh wait,

We were out walking our dogs
How did our mind get on rotten pies
And combat boots
Oh it’s being in the
Belly of the beast
Makes it hard to focus on
The little lovely things
Of life
We always get brought back
Jerked in
Whipped
To reality
Reality right now
Is skewed

Yea, it’s draining
Yea, I’m tired
Yea, I’m trying
No, it’s not over
But yes, we’re still happy

Fear

2008-01-22T19:57:00.001-08:00

Fear
Makes my heart pound
My mind hot pink
Like a bunch of wild roses dipped in ice
Then lit on fire

Feeling like I’m a lemon
Being squeezed of my glory
The pulp was my faith
The juice my stability

I am weakened

Frozen in my uncertainty
Unsure of what is
Or isn’t
Or may be

I’m loosing a grip I never really had
Laughing at the irony in that
Aching from the reality of it

Confused at how I can fake it
All too well

So well, it’s eerie

It’s hidden
As I move through the world
Twisted in a smile
With armor they define as my spirit

Behind the sparkle
Loud words
Giddy conversations

Is Fear

I am in the wilderness
You are in the music
In the man’s car next to me

I am in the confusion of her next decision

The hesitation of her movements
The skepticism behind her views
The apprehension as she walks
The timidity in her eyes
The fear in her voice
The lack in her confidence
The numbness of her actions

She doesn’t move

She stays still
Moving
But going nowhere?

As on a treadmill

Whoa

Heal You First

2008-01-22T07:46:00.000-08:00

Heal You First

I’ve been trying to pay attention more. Listen more…to myself, that is. All things point to how the ways of this world unsettle me in various ways. Coming to terms with so much strife, and feeling a responsibility to do something about it, is a big task for a little person to take on. I’ve been hustling and moving for some time now, still wondering if I’ve been as effective of a force as I can be.

Upon conclusion, I discovered, more than once, that my own needs must be tended to before I can truly exist as a catalyst for change in the external realm. See, people like me, we neglect our own needs for far too long. And realize only later that not only is this detrimental to ourselves, but the work we are trying to do isn’t as effective as it could be.

So, I often ponder the struggles of humanity and race my brain to figure out solutions and remedies. I find myself quite overwhelmed with this notion, but I dive in to whatever is calling me at the moment, momentarily satisfied that I have done something. But, as I reflect, I realize that I’m still unsatisfied with my contribution. Trying not to be too hard on myself, I attribute this dissatisfaction with the fact that I’ve not nurtured myself enough to be the whole, complete, essential being I know that I am destined to become, therefore not realizing my fullest potential as a force for change either.

While I believe my calling is to make differences here, there, and even over there, I have come to accept that the first difference I need to continue focusing on is the relationship I have with myself. For many years I put everyone and everything else’s needs in the forefront, pushing my needs to the back, and not listening to myself as much as I should have. There’s always been something whispering to me, tapping me on my spirit and trying to speak a language that I wasn’t fully ready to hear. That language was one of internal harmony and acceptance. Basically, the ability to be nice to myself, just as I’ve been nice to the world. The ability to allow myself to mess up, go slow, be honest, say no, sit still, and let go. Not be so hard on myself and give praise and thanks for the things that I have been able to do. And realize, perhaps the best is yet to come.

These are all notions that may come easy to some, but for me it’s been a struggle. Feeding off of the external and constantly wanting to please, do, give, and be there. Always feeling an internal push to reach out and make myself available. And being fueled by the praise of it all. Getting high off of the fact that my spirit makes other’s high. So, I continued to spread myself, making them smile. I got caught up, spinning further towards an existence that was draining and damaging to me personally, over time.

Letting go of guilt and looking the other way as the next cause knocks on my door, I’m now trying to center all this madness into a channeled source of clarity. When you have so much exposure, even more passion, yet more energy, and an even bigger heart, sometimes it is the perfect ingredients for a chaotic, self-neglecting journey. But, sometimes you’re blessed enough to repeatedly learn a lesson until you finally pay attention to what the universe, and yourself, have been trying to get you to listen to.

I’m happy to have made great strides towards changing the way I relate to myself. I am happy that I’m making progress. Slowly, I’ve been more still. Gradually, I’ve learned how to close the door to the outside world when I need to. Little by little, I put myself first. And understand, the rest will fall into place in due time.

Listen to what you’re telling yourself. The answers and balance have always been there….let them in and let them heal you. First.

as she continues to burn...

2008-01-21T19:03:00.000-08:00

Sadly, the most news coming out of East Africa is one that consists of brothers (and sisters) fighting each other for "political" reasons that still seem quite unable to justify the continuous murders, displacement, warring, and burning.

Speaking of?

Ethiopia. Somalia. Eritrea. Kenya. Sudan.

Neighbors. Kin. Family. Blood.

There are layers upon layers of excuses that have been conjured up to rationalize the endless (and senseless) invasions, occupations, military deployment, bombings…that inhibit this region from recognizing peace. It goes back further than I can fathom, but not one of the so-called excuses that the so-called "leaders" are whining about seem to be justification to continue to be "at war" with those who are your reflection (in various forms).

Yes. Many of these territories were once part of the other, with overlapping languages, traditions, food, and facial features. Historically, they are all connected to one another. Yet today, narrow-minded men want to spread genocidal tactics until the others are all silenced, forever.

I'm here; way over here, reading, learning, crying. I've been there. And I'm proud to be connected to it all. But this constant barbarism and hate sometimes makes me want to climb out of myself.

This region I'm speaking of. Eastern Africa (with what is demarcated as "The Horn" in there as well), this region is in so much pain. And has been for a long time.

From the Sudanese civil war that's lasted longer than two of my lifetimes
To the Eritrean-Ethiopian familial battles that never seem to end
To the Ethiopian regime attacking Somalia (U.S. style)
To the uprisings and civil battles in Kenya

I am hurting for us. And you know why?

Because every single one of these conflicts--while backed by international governments politically, economically, equipment-wise, and propaganda-wise—are all being carried out between people of the same land, of the same clans, of the same blood. Of Mama Africa.

This is why my heart bleeds. Because we are doing it to ourselves; and for what?

Greed. Power. Money. Territory. Control. Uncontrollable machismo. To appease the string-pullers.

Basically: nothing.

Nothing more important than human lives and civil liberties.

Dark moments in our past may have shaken up our foundation, but it is us that is prolonging our frustrations.

Divide and conquer? It worked. But we are dividing and conquering ourselves now.

Please, please… Send up a prayer to the sun for us. And the babies.

Signed,
A descendant of the region

Tough Rose

2008-01-21T18:39:00.000-08:00

If you look hard enough, the things that you dream about become bits of reality walking past you down the street. Many people don’t understand this, since they are too busy thinking about what they want to do, instead of moving towards it in their mind. You know those things called omens, well those are all the little things that the universe puts in your path for you to latch on to. Those omens are supposed to serve as your guide, directing you to your life’s true purpose. It’s all quite simple, but you have to be open to feel their nudge and absorb their signs. Go this way, don’t do that, they tell you, in subtle, inconspicuous ways. Just listen, for they just might have the answer to your “where am I going’s” and confused mental banter. Like a conversation with a wise elder who cares enough to impart the wisdom.

One such elder was quite respected in my town. No one really understood how, but she always managed to turn the hardest knucklehead into an avid reader and culture enthusiast. Almas had a knack for tough roses. She could always tell when a young person used their exterior armor to shield their pain and frustration at the world. One look at a person could give her their blueprint. She could see past the negative energy and destructive behavior, for she knew that everyone is a product of his or her childhood. Almas always told us, during those ‘youth sessions’ she held at her house on Friday afternoons, that everyone is a stem from a tree. The roots of one’s tree can explain everything about a person’s life, from their dreams and personality to their beliefs and fears, and everything in between. Sometimes, I wanted to ask Almas what was on her tree. But I knew that in my culture, you don’t ask elders these types of questions. You wait for them to tell you.

As soon as Sirach moved on our block, Almas knew that he was troubled. But she also knew that Sirach was a special one. A rose can never hide their beauty, and Almas could see that beneath his anger, Sirach had a heart the size of the Red Sea.

To be continued…

Magic

2008-01-17T13:07:00.001-08:00

Of Water and the Spirit, by Malidoma Some’

There have been a number of books that have moved me on an emotional, spiritual, intellectual, political, and creative level. In these books, I often find myself connecting so intensely to the writer’s thoughts and methods that I feel as if I’ve actually written the books myself. Writer’s who encourage me to keep creating pieces that inspire in ways that are light years away from being mundane, but instead move people to see their dreams, and themselves, fly.

One book that moved me in this way is The God of Small Things, by Arundhati Roy. Her wordplay and artistry are truly visionary and immensely creative; she is a lyrical genius in my opinion, and tells a story with more passion, pizzazz, quirkiness, and fearlessness than I’ve ever seen. Weaving humanity, politics, spirituality, love, sorrow, beauty, humor, discomfort, confusion, supernatural occurrences, and pain together as if they are all one in the same, I read this book and felt myself sink into her process. I took a ride on her mental journey, yes indeed.

I’ve recommended this book to countless people and hail it as one of the classics of our time. (The globe seems to agree with me as well).

I am now on a journey with a book that has not only moved me on all the aforementioned levels (including an esoteric one), but one that I believe is changing and re-shaping my paradigm as a thinker, healer, lover, an African, human being, spiritual being, mystical being, a person trying to make change, a person connected to two places, and a person living in the U S of A. This book, Of Water and the Spirit is causing me to shiver in the deepest parts of my being and causing me to go more internal than anything, ever.

It’s magical, literally; one of the most intensely spiritually divine pages pulled together to tell a (true) story. Reading it connects me to that sacred ancestral energy that's always been brewing in my heart.

I am sharing this not just to babble on about my experience, but to encourage you to read it yourself, if you haven’t already. It is reminding me that those of us who live in North America are quite disconnected from the spiritual, natural “other worldly” realm- that source, and the mind and sense of self to accompany it; and while there are many of us who constantly work at connecting ourselves and do dwell in that dimension, the (material, concrete-laden, fast-paced, greedy, sometimes harsh, Western) environment in which we live keeps us from fully being able to stay in that space (without having to make a conscious effort).

We have to go the extra mile to bring it in, to let it breathe, to nourish that which is already in us and of us; and un-learn certain teachings and principles that are not in-line with our true selves, that clog us up and steer us incorrectly.

But although we sometimes feel “misplaced” in this environment, this book is reminding me that we are (and have been) where we are for very important reasons. Reason’s in line with our purpose; reasons that were created for us long ago; reasons he makes so vividly clear; reasons that I could write a whole book about (and just might).

As Malidoma tells the story of his journey of being forced from his home village in Burkina Faso into the “white man’s world”, back home (initiated into ritualistic, mystical, and magic traditions of his Dagara tribe), then away again, one can’t help but draw parallels to her own life journey and existence in an environment that often feels foreign to her spirit. This feeling is often intensified when she leaves this environment and finds herself in Africa, where she automatically feels “at home”, spiritually and otherwise. As I leave again, I begin to feel the sense that something is missing in me; something that will take much effort and many moons to fulfill.

Perhaps someone reading this can relate to this sentiment, but I can tell you that I wasn’t always able to connect that feeling with what it really meant.

I am now.

Nonetheless, if ever a book has “changed my life”, it is this one. I honestly feel as if I was standing over Malidoma’s shoulder telling him my thoughts for him to write down and form this book. He’s speaking a language that I’ve held inside of me for some time, lingering around my conscience. He’s making sense of many questions I’ve carried with me for years now; indirectly explaining, in my opinion, the very roots of the world’s imbalance and pain. He’s essentially articulating a belief I always carried somewhere inside the ripples of my thoughts and consciousness. He’s explaining the struggles of existing in two worlds at the same time (but for very important reasons), something I can relate to immensely. He illustrates the ramifications of African (and other) people's absorbing strictly European ideologies and practices (and unintentionally denying their own). He is, in essence, speaking for me, ever so eloquently, ever so honestly, ever so captivating.

He speaks of his experiences with magic and ritual and reminds me of the importance of connecting to that source; and how misguided human’s can be if they are not channeled towards it.

He helps to make sense of the negative effects our “education”, conditioning, environment, learned narrow concepts, and harmful societal “principles” have had on us as humans, as Africans.

He makes me understand further the ramifications of religious colonialism and with each word, each story, each experience, increases my pride of being an African. With each story he reminds me how beautiful and necessary traditional African teachings are and how much we need them if we are to exist in this environment with a right mind (and why people are afraid of their power). He also reminds me that forcing someone (or a people) to abandon their indigenous beliefs to adopt a so-called "better" one can only be damaging.

To me, he explains why there is so much discord in the world- people are following beliefs and practices that were imposed on them, causing them to have a constant inner battle between their minds and what their hearts are speaking. Finally, he adds water to my claim that some of the problems of this world exist because people are disconnected from their land, their family, themselves, their ancestors, and their spirits, causing humanity to vibrate at an unearthly tempo.

But alas, without writing a novel trying to explain a novel, I will end here. There is so much more I could say, but these are the words that I could muster to try and articulate my experience with this masterpiece.

If what I’ve shared resonates with you in any way and if you’re ready for a journey of the spirit and mind, I hope you take a moment to explore his life story as well. If not, maybe you can recommend it to someone else. If not, thanks for reading either way.

(And if you haven’t read the God of Small Things, get on that too!)

Ashe’
And So It Is

Guns in Black

2008-01-11T08:11:00.000-08:00

Guns in Black
Accountability for how we’re killing ourselves, too

It’s sometimes addressed. But, not enough.

It’s not just the pigs.

For murdering innocent, unarmed victims, the police are increasingly becoming the target of anti-police brutality campaigns by community activist groups. As they should be: they are killing black men just as swiftly as the KKK hung them.

But recently I heard commentary that was directed towards the (mostly young) black men who have been killing each other for almost four decades now in the United States. I agreed that it‘s time for self-accountability for the black on black gun battles that result in the untimely death of too many young black men. Although the statistics of police murdering innocent victims is higher than it should be (1 is too many), there are far more black people who die at the hands of other black people.

In 2005 alone, 91% of black homicides were committed by black people.

A gun is the answer to any so-called altercation on the streets, and not just those that claim a certain gang or territory. Always out to “prove” something to another man (or woman); the gun has replaced conversations, compassion, and self-love. All consideration for the person’s family and future are set aside for machismo at its worst, for egos in the clouds, and for the sake of appearing to be “hard” and undefeatable.

While the police murders have immensely affected me and are in every way unjust, and something that I have also taken part in advocating to change, I wonder why more pressure isn’t also put on our own folks who are killing off black men. Men who look just like them. Men who have children. Men who have mothers. Brothers killing brothers.

The reasons for this self-massacring that’s occurring in our community are multi-fold. We could do a complete expose’ on the history of how guns, along with crack, were infiltrated into the black community by the CIA to weaken us. We could do a complete expose’ on how people who engage in violent behavior do so out of frustration and lack of opportunity. We could say that guns in our community are a way of surviving the concrete jungle’s in which we live.

We could even talk about the historical fragmentation that has long-lasting ramifications on our community.

We could go on and on pointing to the why’s and how’s, and attacking a system that we already know was set up with the intention of keeping us at the bottom.

But, after hearing this passionate commentary and stepping outside of the victim role, I realized that blaming all of those external and historical factors is not going to end the black on black murders that take our young black men so violently, so swiftly. While we are holding the police accountable (as we should), how weak do we look as a people to allow ourselves to kill each other and not fight for that to end as well?

How can entire communities mobilize to protest and speak out against individual police killings but fail to mobilize around the thousands of black people killed by other black people each year?

If that same energy was also directed internally, imagine what type of change could happen.

But even beyond holding an entity accountable and questioning the community’s response, my heart begs for an answer to this question: Why is this even happening to us?

No, better yet. Why have we allowed this to happen? And why does so much self-destruction continue to permeate our community?

Could it be that we (collectively) have so little self-love, self-respect, and strength that we can fall victims to ourselves so repeatedly, so easily?

Perhaps the lack of self-love assumption is a bit extreme. But it still leaves me to wonder why it’s happening so frequently.

I understand some of the underlying issues. Folks are frustrated, walking around with more aggression in their bones than an untamed lion on the hunt. Jobs are scarce. The environment in which we live is the perfect breeding ground to feel trapped and hopeless. In their brothers they see themselves. In their brothers they see a reflection of the anger they carry around with them. Anger at a system that’s left them out of the game and couldn’t care less whether they lived or not. Anger at everyone around them because pointing a finger is easier than looking within. Anger at everything in the world, angry just to be angry.

But sometimes, I do believe, in this regard at least, that we as a people are weak; and that we have succumbed to the pressure that this system was determined to use to break us down. Not only are we missing a piece of our self-respect and self-love, every time we kill each other or allow killings to happen, we weaken our structure, we weaken our unity. This sort of internal division inhibits us as a people from ever being fully able to come out on top like the kings and queens we are. This sort of internal division gives them more fuel to shake their heads in disgust at us, gaining justification in their analysis that we just simply can’t get it together.

Or that we aren't able to be honest and critical of something that is harming us. It is evident in the lack of community support and fervor to end the senseless murders, it is evident in the division based on territory, color of clothing, self-division by class, and it goes on.

How can we unify and strengthen ourselves to exist in this system if we can’t create and maintain harmony amongst our own?

How did such a culture of violence get extended to so many corners of our community? What’s fueling such a negative response to every little event occurring in one’s world?

I don’t like to place blame where it isn’t due, but I believe there are external culprits identifiable in this case.

The North American government’s tactics of “security” and control” is and always has been one that is entrenched with so much violence, that we cannot go one day without being reminded of its impact on society, on people, on our youth.

These actions have, in turn, undoubtedly contributed to the media’s incessant obsession with promoting and spreading such violence.

Media in the form of your local 11 o’clock news, media in the form of gangster rap stars glorifying violence, media in the form of movies depicting death, media in the form of news about America’s daily foreign policy.

But it goes further. Access to guns in the United States of America is like no where else in the world. Anybody on the block can purchase a gun without a permit. In other countries, like Peru for example, in order to purchase a gun, one must prove that the gun being purchased is for commercial or production use.

And the reality is it isn’t just about being able to “purchase” these guns in stores. There is already an over abundance of guns already in our communities. But alas, we won’t get into detail of how they got there, because they have been there for some time and harping on historical facts isn’t going to remove them.

So, combine these four culprits, mix them with frustration, anger, hopelessness, already existing fragmentation, and what does this produce?

Black people killing themselves at higher rates than the police can. Black people killing our own, further breaking the fabric of an already fragmented community. Black people killing their own reflections, piercing back at them in the midst of their anger. Black people killing their own futures, their children’s future’s, their community’s future.

Now, shouldn’t this get us in an uproar?!

Let’s see the same outrage in South Los Angeles, Oakland, Philly, Brooklyn, Chicago, and anywhere else in this country when another innocent person dies at the hand of his or her fellow brother or sister, with the same passionate energy we have when the NYPD or the LAPD kills one of our own.

Organizing around ending gun violence should include targeting both the police and the people in our communities who go on spree’s taking innocent life. Neither one is right, neither is justified and neither should be excused.

Until we acknowledge this self damage, embrace our young men and women, and pull together in response with that same energy, we will continue to turn on the 11 o’clock news informing us that yet another episode of Guns in Black has wrapped up shooting.

Literally.

It’s a wrap.

Well Maybe I Have a Lot to Say

2008-01-10T18:29:00.000-08:00

Well maybe I have a lot to say. And maybe it’s not going to all come out in the same way. I can write a script, a poem, an article, a novel, an essay, a short story, a non-fiction book, a blog. Well maybe I have too much to say. And getting it all out sometimes overwhelms all twenty-five of my senses. Well maybe you don’t want to hear what I have to say. And seeing my words does nothing for you. Well maybe that doesn’t concern me. Because I have so much to say, I think I’ll implode if I don’t say it.

I want to talk about struggles and injustice. But I want to balance it with the beauty and idiosyncratic events that make life a comedic delight. I want to talk about Katrina and famine. But I want to make sure and cover topics like love at first sight and the importance of connecting the African Diaspora. I want to advocate for an end to police brutality and NGO-neo-colonialism. But I need to share stories of beautiful children and spiritual principles at work, too.

See, this whole joint is just about dichotomies and more dichotomies. Everything is split down the middle from another thing, and one can’t exist without the other. Nor should they. Because, to only deliver strife and sadness makes for a negative existence. But to only deliver delight and joy makes for an existence lived in a bubble. If we provide a little bit of both, perhaps some sort of harmonic solution can be devised. Because at the end of the day, it’s about tweaking humanity to the point where we can only talk about the little things that make you go hmmmm.

Black America and Its Discontents: Makes Me Wanna Holler

2008-01-10T18:24:00.000-08:00

Makes Me Wanna Holler

Nathan McCall and Marvin Gaye used this phrase to rightly discuss the condition of black folk in America. I've used it here to continue in this same light, raising issues that are heavy on my heart. But mujeres y hombres, I'm not just going on a rant here. These are things I'm dedicating time and energy to try and change, or at least raise awareness about. We cannot exist in peace without all of us living with justice. And it's time to hold, not only this "system", but ourselves accountable as well on certain issues.

Political-Systemic-Environmental-Cultural-Self-Inflicted

1. The overabundance of unhealthy food places, lack of grocery stores, and excess of fast food/junk eateries within lower-income cities/neighborhoods in America. I've seen this in many of my travels and in the two places I've lived in in America; New York and California. Studies have already proven that one can find more unhealthy food places in these areas, and there are times when a grocery store or place to buy fresh fruits and vegetables is no where in reach or site by the population. As many of these unhealthy places are cheap, accessible, close by, and quick, they tend to be the main basis of nutrition for people living in economically disadvantaged cities in America. Many studies have made the correlations between the location of these food places with the high rates of obesity, diabetes, heart disease, lower productivity, etc., that exist amongst this same population. I am sure, if everyone takes the time to peep this, you too will notice how things change so drastically depending on where you are. There are not as many fried chicken, Mc Donald's, or "convenient" junk food stores present when the demographics change to a higher income population. There's way more options of what people can choose to nourish their bodies with. Bottom line is, people gravitate to what is in their environment and what is the most accessible to them, both economically and spatially. This concern is on the agenda of environmental justice organizations and health advocacy organizations.

2. The plethora of liquor stores in lower-income communities, that just so happen to also be the place where blacks and browns live. There are over 360 liquor stores in Oakland. There are approximately 640 liquor stores in South Los Angeles! Growing up in Los Angeles, I saw this phenomenon repeatedly block after block, 'hood after 'hood. In some cases, I've literally seen one on every corner (sometimes two-one on each end). Alcoholism is a large issue in our community, and it's already been discovered that this overabundance of liquor stores is helping to facilitate this disease (yes, it is a disease). Of course, there should be accountability on the part of those that go to the stores and consume the liquor, but my argument is that, if folks are frustrated, perhaps lacking opportunity, struggling to get by, depressed, and/or feeling hopeless, you put a liquor store within reach and that is what they will use to drown out the drama and troubles of daily life. This is my opinion, but I'm not alone on it. "We see liquor stores as symbols of oppression, of poverty, lack of ownership of our communities, and most importantly, racism", writes one author. Studies have shown that depending on the income bracket of the neighborhood, there are very few liquor stores in higher income areas, compared to an overabundance in lower income areas. "Researchers at the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health have shown that predominantly black, low-income neighborhoods in Baltimore were eight times more likely to have carry-out liquor stores than white or racially integrated neighborhoods. Such stores have been shown to be an important component of the social infrastructure that destabilizes communities."-JHSPH article. The reality is that the people who own and build these stores are not from within the community and therefore not connected to the possible ramifications that could occur. In other words: $ takes precedent over quality of life and safety.

3. The manner in which members of the police departments in this country use blacks and browns as target practice, and how they get away with making tragic "mistakes". Anyone peeped the Michael Moore joint? Those fools (cops/pigs) are seeing things, and it's RARELY A GUN. These "unidentified objects" end up being wallets, phones, etc. They are therefore killing unarmed human beings then being let free by the "judicial system". But who is shocked? It's the same system that ok'ed lynching's and executions of black men when they "whistled" at white women a few decades ago. There's simply no justice. I won't make a long list of the innocent victims that died at the hands of the police, but I will mention two. Amadou Diallo. A 19 year-old immigrant who lived in New York, he came here for education. As he was approached by the NYPD, he had his wallet in his hand, which they somehow managed to "mistake" for a gun. Shot the brotha 40 times in the back. Clearly, he posed no threat to the cops, but they were able to escape a conviction by claiming that they thought he was "armed" and had mistaken him for someone else. Really? So, basically, there were NO shots fired back, there was no weapon, and you killed a young innocent man. And then the so-called judicial system pardons you for merely "doing your job". Sean Bell is another UNARMED victim of police murders currently zoning attention on the corruption of the NYPD. He was ambushed with and killed by police 50 bullets, and two of the cops were indicted on charges of manslaughter. Since no cops have ever been convicted of these unjust murders, folks are holding their breath to see how "fair" this trial will be. Did I mention that no cops have ever been convicted?

4. Black on black murders. While we do, and should, hold the police accountable for the murders and crimes they commit, where is the same accountability to the folks that are killing each other on the streets, with a quickness to make Jackie Joyner-Kersey look slow? Where's the frustration at how many of our own are killing our own as the first resort? Again, the historical and political reasons for the infiltration of these guns in our community and societal factors that may drive someone to kill with a gun does not justify these senseless murders that occur at far too high rates. We need to do a better job of community support and nurturing so that this doesn't continue to kill us, literally. It's a heart-breaking phenomenon that's tearing us apart and we may be the only ones to stop it. How? I'm open to suggestions.

5. Those hip-hop/rap artists who are irresponsibly projecting images of violence, gangsterism, and misogyny (through lyrics and videos), that millions of young folk and community members absorb, then are weak and selfish enough to claim that they aren't role models. I've worked with young folks that live and breathe their lyrics, but they wanna turn a blinds eye to this reality and not recognize that their music is repeated hundreds of times a day, helping to shape young (and still impressionable) minds? How can they disconnect themselves so easily from their community, claiming to "do what I gotta do" in this game of life? I mean, really 50 cent? Was it necessary to entitle your album "Massacre" while an AK 47 is strapped across your chest? Really Ying Yang Twins? Wait 'til you see my dick? Ain't no fun if the homies can't have none, Snoop? Swiping a card down a woman's ass in ya video Nelly? Artists defend these lyrics and glorifications by saying they are merely "story-telling". I wonder though if this is story telling or simply talking about what they want to engage in, therefore writing a screenplay of things to come? Granted there are artists who are actually telling stories of their experiences, but sometimes, I wonder, are they aware of the potential harm it could do? Does Snoop really have to continue to claim "Crip" and all things blue in his songs?! Scarface's "Diary of a Madman" is another example of this: "Dear diary today I hit a n*gga with a torch/Shot him on his face and watched him die on his front porch/ Left his family heartbroken/". That's cold-blooded. Plain straight up. Byron Hurt rightly held some artists accountable for this in his film "Hip Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes". As Hurt did, I'm focusing my criticism on the one's that speak of these elements of life frivolously, not all artists. [Please note: there are many positive elements/artists within the hip-hop culture and in no way is "hip hop" the reason for the violence and mal treatment of women. But it clearly doesn't help and I do believe they have influence on folks. Hip-hop, however, has been and continues to be used as a tool for social change and speaking about the positive elements of life.]

6. The amount of single black mother's rearing children alone. I understand we live in a system that has made it hard for the black family to remain in tact, but can someone do a movie praising the gazillion women who carry households on their backs, ALONE? I can't even count the amount of times I've been with a group of people when the majority of us can say our father's were not present in our lives. This is not okay, and it never will be justified by the list of excuses we conjure up. Even incarceration isn't always the reason they aren't around. Sometimes, they are in reach, but not present. I can speak from experience on that. Where are the fathers? And where is the accountability? [More rhetorical of a question in nature, since there are varying factors that keep fathers from being present in their children's lives. And I know there are groups/orgs working to address this concern].
7. Gentrification. Period. [Got a piece about this. See 'bout me].

8. Katrina and it's non-natural man-made disaster -ness. Period. [I've written about this extensively already. See me for copies!].

9. The disparity in health conditions that exist in America. So, what I've learned is that African-Americans have the highest rate of everything bad (diabetes, AIDS, hypertension, heart disease, deaths from breast cancer, childhood asthma, etc.) and the lowest rate of everything good (high life expectancy, balanced diet, etc.). Hearing this over and over was something I experienced article after article, class lecture after class lecture, conference after conference. Even though these statistics are accompanied with the socioeconomic, political, environmental, and historical "reasons" or causal factors (such as access, healthcare), it doesn't make it any easier to digest. And it isn't going to change the current reality.

10. The foster care system. Historically and currently known as a racially skewed system that has pulled black and brown children from their homes quicker than a space shuttle to the moon. Having worked in this system, I saw first hand how even the smallest mistakes made by black parents are punished by the removal of their children, while white families are not punished at all for the same issue. I'm not condoning any form of child abuse or neglect, but often times abuse and neglect have not occurred and children have been plucked from their homes for every little mistake made, or based on a judgment of how people live. Another imbalance in this system is the ways in which foster parents are given more support and services than the parents themselves, making it obvious that "keeping families together" is not really the priority. An many children in this system are inappropriately diagnosed with "A.D.D." and "behavioral problems", putting them on unnecessary medication at very young ages. It's a system with many twisted layers (but some positives as well), but one that does not always function in the "interest of the child" in the long run.

11. The Prison Industrial Complex. "it is f****** outrageous, the amounts of blacks and browns they lock up"-from Common's classic One Day it'll All Make Sense. Will it? You tell me when, I'll give you 1,000 kudos bars. The PIC is defined as: "a complicated system situated at the intersection of governmental and private interests that uses prisons as a solution to social, political, and economic problems. The PIC depends upon the oppressive systems of racism, classism, sexism, and homophobia. It includes human rights violations, the death penalty, industry and labor issues, policing, courts, media, community powerlessness, the imprisonment of political prisoners, and the elimination of dissent". It's a billion-dollar industry that runs on the backs of humans, who must be incarcerated by any means necessary. Ya got three strikes, ya got life.

I have some solutions, yes, but that will have to be another blog. First step, awareness! I understand that some people may not "agree" with what I've said, but none of the issues I've raised up are solely based on my opinion. All can be proven, (except maybe the hip-hop one). ;)

this beautiful people

2008-01-10T16:01:00.001-08:00

The guides that initially lead us to humanity are the ones that could bring us back to it.

Before any of this began, the spirits envisioned a people full of so much power and beauty, they would lead us all to create what we now refer to as humankind.

But we didn’t realize that while their strength and spirituality intrigued and motivated the others, it was these very attributes that were to one day be a threat to those of weaker mind and spirit.

We who are of this group of such strength and dignity would, at one (long) point in the history of humanity, rule queendoms and kingdoms that governed life in mystical ways. We of this same group would (for some unknown reason) later be viewed as the most unattractive and unwanted of the human race.

Who exactly is this group of humans? We now call them (us), Africans.

But no matter how they view us, we are steadfast in our belief that we are still beautiful, strong, and overflowing with spirit.

After all, our mother is the richest of them all.

We call her, Mama Africa

Interests

2008-01-10T15:34:00.000-08:00

some of my “general” interests, taken from www.myspace.com/peopleneedwater

the sun. human rights. living outside the box. making my own box. individual thinkers. a united africa. anomalies. throwing people off! pan-africanism. getting on planes and flying far away to other countries. kissing life. spending time with my dear loved ones. RBG. being a sundrop. being my mama's daughter. resistance. being goofy. she-ra. the beautiful struggle. social justice. the art of communication. volunteering. braiding hair. living on purpose. swagger. peaceful passion. making people feel good. planning things. realistic idealism. black. black power. writing writing writing. helping. making a difference. teaching children. learning from children. babysitting. unlimited imagination. my beautiful family. spirit. words. wordplay. water. being in water. thai massages. numberrrrs. math. challenging. the other. weirdos. political discussions. almond oil. music music. classic soul. nature. self-determination. accomplishing missions. thinking of a master plan. the sunshine. being warm. MAMA AFRICA. uplifting mama africa. stopping int'l ngo's from pimping mama africa!!!!!!!!! afro-latin music. peru. international health. truth. thoughtful people. nice people. talking to strangers. being inspired. coordinating events and programs. connecting people to each other and resources. the witty. the clever. tasteful sarcasm. paying attention. listening to myself. listening. memories. serendipitous moments. inter-connectedness. free spirits. justice. freedom. community. love. community love. community organizing. advocacy. villages. ACTIVISM. change. revolution. laughter. transparency. keepin it gully. holding a baby. globe trotting. dancing freely. learning. languages. channeled angst. grits. fruit salads. manifesting a dream. people people people. THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION. yellow. judgment-free zones. making people go hmmm. randomness. washing dishes. sourdough bread. doodling. telling stories. being a sillygoose. multi-tasking. to-do lists. sweet plums. diaspora love. watching basketball. being cozy. indian food. movement. compassion. organized confusion. rambling. just be. googly gobbly wobbly. creating new paradigms. big hearts. rhyming in my head. thinking en espanol. being a busy bee. then hiding out. fulfilling commitments. being supportive. being supported. sincere wishes. watching the waves at the ocean. humans with integrity. machupichu, the 8th wonder. traveling for free. rain when it's hot. smiling at mistakes. letting go. playing with children. coloring. hidden treasures. random acts of kindness. acceptance. being in love. the countryside. natural habitats. computers. technology breaks. taking naps. playing in the sand. making you smile. long friendships with meaning. real respect. consistency. photography. family gatherings. re-defining. 7 hour phone conversations. when people mean what they say. the beeeeach. global awareness. humanity. i'm an african and i know what's happenin'. corny jokes. conversing with elders. finishing something. reading an inspirational novel. correlations. speaking up. counseling others. smurfs. feminine intuition. freedom of expression. documentaries. believing. eternal optimism. open minds. neurotic brains. sensitive souls. the artsy. the little things. life's infinite blessings. courage. fearlessness. being a godmother. hip-hop at its best. mos def's black on both sides. learning amharic. swimming. non-comformity. equal access. the word dichotomy. bike riding. thoughtful people.

Black Nation Charges Genocide

2008-01-10T15:14:00.000-08:00

The Black Nation in North America Charges Genocide

We’re heathens.
To them at least.

Wonder why the police are so quick to pull the trigger (a minimum of 30 times) when they encounter black folk on the streets?

We have no worth.
To them at least.

Wonder why our lives are dispensable enough to be taken in an instant with no reason, no rhyme?

We don’t belong here.
To them at least.

Wonder why the “justice” system allows this to happen continually with no repercussions?

I don’t.

The NYPD, LAPD, and many other police departments in America, operate with the same psychology as the KKK, the CIA, the slave traders, slave owners, the judicial system, the COINTELPRO string-pullers, the pioneers of the Jim Crow Laws, and all the other “forefathers” who so believed that we were 3/5 of a human that they wrote it in their Constitution. As the police departments are descendants of the same government that spearheaded all of these entities, there really is no distinction in their attempts to eliminate and obliterate an entire people. They all seem to chant the same creed.

It says: Black people are just like dirt. To be spat on and thrown out.

And so, The Black Nation Charges Genocide

Yes, it’s that serious. Let the following words serve as an international call to people of African descent around the world to absorb the true conditions of black people living in North America. Contrary to what the media tells you, life isn’t always pleasant in these parts for brown people. We ask for your support and solidarity as we struggle in this police state that has always been dead set intent on wiping us out, by any means necessary.

According to the United Nations, genocide means: any of the following acts committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group. Acts of genocide include but are not limited to: a.) killing members of the group; b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part.

The Malcolm X Grassroots Movement, an organization I am a member of, has this to say about genocidal tactics: “Political lynching and police brutality/harassment/killings are all destructive measures calculated by the USA to bring about the destruction and or stunt the growth of Afrikan people in North America. We demand that international pressure be put on the USA to cease its genocidal tactics against our people”.

The genocide of African people in America is being carried out by killing and incarcerating them exponentially. The perpetrators committing genocide against black people in America, therefore, are the various state police departments who murder black people (mostly young men) without proper cause and even less remorse. Well connected to an equally corrupt “judicial” system, murders are committed with virtually no consequences.

In many low-income black neighborhoods throughout America, the police serve as an occupying force that preys on people, waiting for the next victim to wipe out.
Unarmed victims are murdered by those allegedly in our neighborhoods to “protect and serve” us. Many laugh at this motto because often, the only thing they’ve been serving is a lot of bullets. There’s often very little rhyme to their reason; it won’t ever flow melodically, as it’s an extension of a system that once allowed the KKK to hang us from trees and put our men prison for even looking at a white woman.

It happens weekly now. I get another email about another young black man (or men) gunned down by the police. Sometimes it’s 10 bullets, other times it’s 50. But one thing that does remain a constant: many of the victims murdered by the police are unarmed. The police in America have what we call “selective vision”. They almost always happen to “see” a weapon, when often it turns out that what they saw was merely a wallet, a cell phone, or any other small object that one may keep in his pocket. Independent film-maker and human rights activist Michael Moore made a short film high-lighting this fact; that all too often officers conveniently “mistake” small objects for handguns. Clearly they have not actually seen a gun, but are trying to provide some justification to their barbarism.

Perhaps Amadou Diallo resonates the loudest with our comrades living in Africa. Brother Diallo was a 23 year-old African immigrant who came from Senegal to America for a “better” life. However, in 1999, he was shot 41 times in the back by NYPD officers (in the doorway to his apartment building) as he reached for his wallet. Apparently they thought he was someone else. So, not only did they have the wrong person, but they assassinated an unarmed, innocent young man. Murdered. By the NYPD.

What was the true crime? Being a young, Black man in America.

But what a lot of people don’t know is that in New York City alone, 140 people were killed by police between Amadou in 1999 and Sean Bell’s death on November 25, 2006.

It happens day after day, state after state. The harassment; the beatings; the murders.

The Stolen Lives Project, which documents police killings in the United States, estimates that 2000 people were killed by the police in the U.S. just in the 1990s, many of which were Black youth and other people of color. Of these cases, only a handful of the cops were indicted, and none were ever convicted.

Let us remember a few of our fallen:

· Sean Bell, 23 years old (50 shots by the NYPD killed him on the morning of his wedding).
· Anatoly Dimitriev, 62 years old
· Malcolm Ferguson
· Timothy Stansbury, 19 years old
· Amadou Diallo, 23 years old (41 shots by the NYPD)
· Devin Brown, 13 years old
· Timothy Thomas, 19 years old

This list is in fact much larger, and continues to lengthen.

We charge genocide because it’s systematic (the police is an extension of the governmental system), it’s all to often targeted towards one group, and more often than not, it appears to be deliberate.

One life is one too many.

Hundreds is an injustice.

No repercussions, makes it simply sickening.

Doom Sayer?

2008-01-10T11:01:00.001-08:00

or...Truth Layer?

Hello Everybody.
Reporting Live from Somewhere.
Lawwwwwwwwwd Have Mercy.
Black Star connect.

Lets see. Today we deliver a bit of sad news. The world is not in good shape. The most recent debacle is that of racism in language and media. I found myself fly swatting rhetoric and verbal blasphemy today. Lawd knows I been placed where Im placed for a reason. The generalizations people conjure up and project onto their audience is the basis for the discrimination and unfounded ignorance oozing from the lips of the simpletons.

You ask yourself where in the world do people get such ideas. You wonder why they are so comfortable referring to "those people" while riding their superior high-horse. The answer comes once you ponder how certain individuals have been strategically conditioned to believe that theyare the epitomy of how life 'should' be lived. Therefore, 'those people' become the poor victims that need saving, looked at as incapable of even the simplest of tasks, hence the programs to teach everything from 'how to breast feed' to 'how to grow food'. As if folk didnt actually teach YOU how to do such things in the first place.

Language is a powerful mechanism that is used (and abused) as the framework to design programs and interventions with (I mean, for) populations the world over. Language is (loosely) used to justify inhumane tactics disguised as 'help'. I caution the rhetoric-spitters from assumptions and mindless chatter when referring to people they know very little about. I caution them because the danger in doing so is the bases for the harmful practices and actions inflicted daily. It is at the root of all discrimination and ignorance.

Those dangerous, over-sexualized, incompetent, illiterate, rape-crazed, unaware, ignorant people.

Those violent, simple, exotic, primitive, uncivilized people.

I am paying great attention to the words they choose to describe people. I am paying attention to the representation of people in the 'developing' but 'way more developed than you' countries.

For some, its commonplace to exaggerate or oversimplify goings-on from the 'other' parts of the world. Its second nature to talk about people as if they are one homogenous downtrodden group. I call for a change in how people are referred to, a halt of assumptions about what people need and most importantly, an acceptance that you cannot ever be their savior.

This struggle, to re-present all forms of humanity in their true light, is a huge undertaking for us. But, we must.

The Return to New Orleans

2008-01-10T10:42:00.000-08:00

My second time in New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina
June 2006

I’ve been here for 9 days and it’s starting to feel like home.

Maybe it’s the spirit of this city, the spirit that shant be silenced, crushed, or dismantled.
Maybe it’s the group of dedicated and ‘bout it organizers I’m living and working with.
Maybe it’s talking to the residents and survivors of New Orleans and absorbing their determination and strength.
Maybe it’s all the good food.
Maybe it’s the heat that makes me lethargic.
Perhaps it’s Baba, who has taken us under his wing and showered us with wisdom and love.
Perhaps because I’m giving so much of myself, and not feeling the least bit like I want to stop.
Like, I’m here to fix my home.

The people of New Orleans are just freakin’ tired, obviously. It’s almost been one year now. And many people still aren’t in their homes and don’t even have homes to come home to. Some have even decided not to come back. It is mind blowing how much of the city still does not have a pulse. Not to say that it’s dead, just eerily abandoned and asleep. Not the people. Those that are here shine their light and are rampant with vigor. The empty homes, the shut down businesses, the absence of public services, and the debris keep the city sleep. Escuchela. La ciudad no es respirando. (Listen to it, the city is not breathing). But how can it breathe? It’s being suffocated by chaos. I’m rolling down these streets, through projects, and on blocks where no one lives, and just want to close my eyes and will all the people back to their normal lives. It still doesn’t feel like I’m in the most economically advanced country in the world.

And I don’t have any idea what it may feel like to be pushed out on purpose, and come up short. With no belongings, no community, no dignity. And a lot of frustration.

Last week we spent two days gutting out this house. It’s hard to put this in to words, but this home, in the lower 9th ward, was completely under water. Like, over the roof, nothing spared, under water. This family had a lot of stuff; and it was all still in there. Molding, rotting, smelling horribly, and just down right icky. I believe I have never been hotter. The temperature, with humidity and full protective gear, had to be around 120 degrees, easy. Dripping sweat and lifting, pulling, shoveling, picking up, throwing out, wheel-barreling, pulling down sheet rock, suffocating in my face mask, pools forming in my gloves, sweat dripping down my back, inhaling water every 20 minutes. Taking rests. Joking with my comrades. It’s one of those experiences that is just too much to try and explain. Our homie Steve, who lives right down the block from this home, shows us a few houses that were lifted from their lots and literally thrown blocks away. “You see that house over there…well, it belongs over THERE”. Yes, I saw this before, but you never get used to that type of information. Steve was reiterating this notion of this disaster not being caused by a hurricane. The hurricane had been gone for 3 hours, he says, before the wave gushed through and wiped out this area. This area, my folks, is large. We are talking about an entire city. Hurricanes can’t do that. Man can though. More and more residents are speaking up about how they heard an explosion. They thought they had ‘weathered the storm’, so they stayed. But, then comes water gushing through. Huh? How did that happen?!? Connect the explosion, the three hours later, the fact that only certain portions of the city got wiped out, and then you have your ‘ahh-ha’ moment. I did. Twice now.

They are rebuilding some levee. It’s hurricane season right now. Right now! I’m here, and it’s hurricane season. Right. Now. They built some levee. And it’s hurricane season. Now. I wonder how those two will play out this time. People are on edge, but not really. See, if last years hurricane ‘disaster’ was caused by man, just as the catastrophic hurricanes were, then how likely is it that the same sort of disaster will happen again, the next year? I asked Steve what made him rebuild his home. He said, it doesn’t happen that often. Every 40 years or so. They want to wipe out a new bunch.

We went to projects, trailer parks, and homes to talk to people about joining the survivor’s council. The goal is to get people to join together and have a say in what happens in their lives. We made calls, handed our flyers, and had many conversations. Many. The most impactful experience happened in Baton Rouge, LA. An hour and a half from New Orleans. We spent time in a trailer park, where survivors from New Orleans are being housed temporarily. I can only use minimal words to describe this trailer park. Oh, did I mention it’s an hour and a half from New Orleans? Why did they ship people and plant them in trailer parks an hour and a half away?!??! Same question. I got the same question. And the trailers. Wow. Okay, so basically, they are treating people like animals. As if that wasn’t already obvious. Trailers that are so small, they ‘are like vacation homes’, to quote one of the residents. FEMA decides arbitrarily who they want to cut checks for.

House visits are an important part of the work that People’s Organizing Committee does. It’s important for them as an organization, to organize the people so that they can not only have a voice in the work that is done, but so that they are at the forefront of the decisions being made about their lives. It is the true manifestations of grassroots work and self-determination. POC helped to create the Survivors Councils, an amazing entity of Katrina survivors who meet regularly and respond to individual and collective needs to the best of their abilities, with resource and logistic support from POC. Each council has various committees, such as education, finance, reconstruction, organizing, etc. Having helped to organize and attending two of these meetings (in two separate regions) I can honestly say that people are happy to be able to make decisions on their own. I had so many one-on-one conversations with people who were ready to work with other fellow survivors to resist the bullshit and illegal attempts by the government to keep them out of New Orleans. People are not going to just sit back and be walked all over. And they appreciate being in the planning sessions of what strategies to take. What a vision. What beautiful manifestations of a vision. It’s beautiful to see the type of relationships that are being built across the city. People look at one another and don’t have to say a word. It is understood that the struggle is far from over, and it’s time to work.

The housing situation in New Orleans is still no better off than it was upon my first trip. There are people coming home of course. Many people are having their homes gutted and (hopefully, eventually) these homes will be rebuilt. These are the people who have this option, however. Homeowners. Sadly, for the many in New Orleans, this is not a reality. Which brings me to the battle currently occurring within the housing developments (projects) of the city. Yet another battle, to add to the homelessness, joblessness, mental illness, and familial separation that people are already experiencing. Pile it on, why don’t ya?

And then there are the schools, which remain closed, with no goal in site to re-open them.

*sigh*

This is long enough. The sentiment has been conveyed, I’m sure.

7 months later: my experience in New Orleans

2008-01-10T10:32:00.000-08:00

*written in March 2006, my first trip to N.O. following Hurricane Katrina

"As big business owners rake in massive federal subsidies to loot the Gulf Coast and rob residents of the homes and land for commercial development, the predominantly African-American poor and working-class people of New Orleans are being denied the right to return and reconstruct their communities. They need our help!"- People's Hurricane Relief Fund

First: I must extend a moment of silence and solidarity for those who have unnecessarily lost their lives. For those who are still struggling to access their homes. For those who have been displaced, not due to a natural disaster, but due to a disaster of a system. For those who are getting NO SUPPORT from the government. They matter to me. The sad reality is, this population was neglected BEFORE the hurricane came. It's not a surprise. Many of us already KNEW this racism existed. Now, there's no denying it!

7 months later. And there are still piles of debris, trash, abandoned cars, stench, abandoned homes and businesses, NO electricity or running water in CERTAIN areas, people with no where to live or work, and a population who is being denied the right to return home. You stroll through this city and wonder how on God's earth is this happening. 7 months later. I felt like I was in a 'developing country' all over again. In a country filled with resources. Blasphemy.

I find it necessary to share my experience in New Orleans. Not simply for the shock factor or to upset anyone, but to inform folks about what it's like today, 7 months later. To remind people to keep the survivors in their thoughts; and do what they can to ensure justice prevails. Because virtually no one is down there to assist them and advocate for them. 7 months later?!?!?

During my stay as a volunteer/organizer in New Orleans, I lived in the 9th ward (a lower income, predominantly black neighborhood), and stayed at an abandoned school. We were informed that 200 survivors were forced to stay at this school for ten days, without any help, plumbing, electricity, or food. Feces and garbage was found two weeks ago. It had been there since September. Those who were trapped in this school left a note for the world to see. Bare witness.

September 2, 2005, 9:15 a.m.
"We're sorry for the school but the shelter was a blessing. We had to bring over 200 people here with no help from any coast guard boats, people died and are still in their house. We had to leave them. We asked the coast guard for help and got NONE. Thanks to Micky, McKinley, Eric, Phil, Tyrone, Karl B, Cory J, and J-Roy, Ray-Ray, Richard, Cedric, Jeff D., Ben, Big Greg, Rick, 10th ward Al, Lance, and Anthony. We saved the whole project. THEY LEFT US HERE TO DIE. God Suns/Spirit Gates. R.I.P. to the ones we love"

Standing in this room was sacred. The spirits of the people were with us. We embraced them.
This school is located in an area that is now completely a ghost town. There is no electricity or signs of human life, save for the volunteers who live in this school and the occasional family who comes to sit in front of/gut out their home. The homes are all empty and have spray paint on them indicating number of bodies found and date of inspection. This spray paint became a familiar sight as we drove through the city. Some said things such as "2 cats rescued" or "no bodies found". Some had notes from people who were trapped in their homes; similar to what we saw on the news. But seeing it in person was a powerful experience.

The LOWER 9th ward

I thought I had seen it all. I had been all over New Orleans, peeping the settled water line on the homes. It stretched for miles. It was difficult to grasp the idea that a 40-foot wave rushed through this city. I saw homes that had lost their roofs, a once thriving city eerily still and empty, and more debris and furniture on the streets than I had every seen. I saw spray paint on walls describing the conditions of the houses or notes from people trying to get the attention of the Coast Guard. I thought I had seen it all. Then, we went to the lower 9th ward. Everyone was saying, prepare yourself. You will see destruction like you've never seen it before. Still. As if it happened yesterday.

No matter how strong you try to be, one cannot prepare his/herself for the lower 9th. It's an emotional experience beyond comprehension. A moment of silence is needed; perhaps a short prayer; even a little time to yourself. I shed a tear; wanted desperately to go and be alone. Just for one minute. Had never felt a stronger urge to get violent. It's quite difficult to put into words. Let's just say, I definitely had not seen it all. The destruction is beyond belief; and the fact that it's just sitting there is another blatant slap in the face that lower income people of color simply don't matter. 7 months later!?!?! Damn. Not even one clean up crew from the city or government. Just some small organizations trying to help people. The foundations of these homes are gone. Homes are now piles of broken wood, brick, clothes, and memories. Cars are flipped upside down on top of what used to be a roof. You look around and cannot believe that such a catastrophe receives virtually no response; but then you CAN believe it, because it's the same population that has been neglected and discriminated against since this country's inception.

You look around and wonder whose shoe that is, how old the child was whose toy is in the street, who used the spoon you walk past, and how many people got out alive. There isn't even a wall to read the ever-so-familiar spray painted statistics that exist on the other houses in the city. So, it's quite probable that many people died in the lower 9th. Another moment of silence.
They denied people who lived here from even returning to this area. They are still trying to keep people out. They are trying to EVICT people from their homes y'all!!!

The choice of where to put the RIGHT levees
For some time now, I thought that this destruction was caused by a hurricane. A hurricane that ravaged through a city, taking whatever it wanted in its path. During my trip to New Orleans, however, I learned that it was not solely a hurricane, but a prior choice made about where and how to make a decent levee. The only true devastation that this city endured is in the lower income areas. How else do you explain it but to call it classism? Racism? Human rights violations? The hurricane didn't say, 'Hey, I think I'll just go this way, and skip over this community, and wipe out this one group'. It's just not that simple, as the media and government would have you believe.

I find myself in a sea of anger and confusion. Angry at this system. Angry at the levee that's to my left; a two year old could see that it's a joke to think that this could stop a 40 foot wave from ravaging this area. Angry at the barbaric and evil decisions made by those in charge. They knew this damn levee was not going to protect this community. (I shed a tear here). They were damn well aware of what it takes to protect a community. I know this because we were shown what a real, effective levee looks like. And the area adjacent to this CORRECTLY CONSTRUCTED levee was untouched, rich, lavish and a community of white people. And it's only ten minutes away. It's a blatantly obvious classist/racist set up. A slap in the face. Don't believe the hype. The money and the know-how are there.
And now the bastards are saying they will rebuild a levee that will withstand a Category 3 levee. Seriously people, so that means, this shit could happen all over again. Hurricane season is around the bend.

The issue of homes
In what appears to be a blatant attempt to deny people to return to their homes in New Orleans, people are being evicted, having their leases broken, rent raised, stripped of their homes, and having to prove that they want to come back home. The contractors are trying to move in and 'rebuild'. But the question remains. REBUILD FOR WHO? I saw them. They were CRAWLING around the hood. Driving, looking. Plotting this land for themselves and that land for their cronies. The Bush Administrations 'rebuilding process' is something we must pay attention to. Cause for a long time, the theory has been that the goal is to gentrify New Orleans, and this can only be done one way. Gentrification, an all-too familiar term to people in inner-cities. It's the process of essentially displacing a population so that others can come and 'fix it up', raise the prices, and change the whole make-up of an area.

People have to fend for themselves. One of the houses I helped to gut out was the home of an elderly woman. We were told that the work it took a team of 10 to do in 3 days would have cost her $40,000 dollars. Others told us they went to work on a house that a woman and her 12 year old daughter were working on themselves. Another told us of a 70 year old woman doing the work herself. In the lower 9th, one woman couldn't even FIND her home. PICTURE THAT. Destruction comes and those who have the resources run and hide.

And even if homes are gutted and people could actually afford to rebuild, there are still many health and sanitation hazards rampant, not to mention very few places to buy groceries and supplies.

Rights

"The people of New Orleans will not go quietly into the night, scattering across this country to become homeless in countless other cities while federal relief funds are funneled into rebuilding casinos, hotels, chemical plants, and the wealthy white districts of New Orleans like the French Quarter and the Garden District"

-Founding Statement,
The People's Hurricane Relief Fund

This is one of the most blatant disregards for human rights that we have seen. How about a commission for the Katrina survivors, as there was one for the 911 survivors? How about electricity gets turned back on in our communities down there, so people CAN come back? How about we create jobs and opportunities for people to return home? How about more legal representation for the survivors, so they don't continue to get bamboozled and lied to and shoved out of their homes? How about they build the levee to withstand a Category 5 hurricane instead of re-building one that only withstands a Category 3? (cause God knows they know HOW to and have the MONEY to). How about cleaning up the toxic wastes that is abundant from flooding, mold in houses, and trash that's been sitting on the streets? It's quite obvious what is going on; even if one doesn't want to accept that it's racism and discrimination, go down there. See for your self. There is no reason why that much trash and chaos should still exist; why those levees were built one way in one area and differently in another area; why people are being denied access to their property.

Who is helping?

There is a need for more people to go to New Orleans and assist in the clean up process and ensure that people are getting the services they need. They need legal representation because this system is violating every law in the book trying to keep people displaced and scattered, landless and poor.

I ended up working with two organizations down there, mainly because the one I initially went down with wasn't fulfilling my needs in a community/spiritual/political/historical/cultural sense. I will not get into the specifics of this organization, and they are doing good work; however, they could stand to learn a few things. I ended up connecting with some professors/Black Panthers who linked me with a grassroots organization run by the people, for the people (which I was also indirectly connected to---long story). I had an amazing experience, ended up driving to Alabama and back in one day, met some DOPE freedom fighters, had a life and death experience in my hands, organized folks/meetings, and ended up gutting a house, amongst other things. I'd say the experience was definitely life-changing and it's fueled me to re-focus my efforts back into the U.S., as well as overseas. Folks are getting mistreated in many ways. Even up here in New York, FEMA didn't keep their word, and now survivors are being kicked out of hotels and charged astronomical fees? What IS this?

Not many organizations are down there. A few very visible local ones are doing some good work. The larger one's that are there: Red Cross, FEMA, etc., ain't doin much. It's a PR ploy for a non-profit/NGO to go to a disaster zone and have their trucks drive around. Same thing happens overseas.

I'm going back to New Orleans in the near future. Who's coming? More folks of color are needed! It's apart of our reality to 'do fa self'. Self-determination, cuz nobody has our backs like we do. I shant be silenced.

Pakistan in "The Courtyard"

2008-01-10T09:45:00.000-08:00

"The Courtyard" on 90.7 KPFK Los Angeles

PAKISTAN AFTER BENAZIR BHUTTO

Can Peace reign in Pakistan, and between Pakistan, India, and China, all in possession of nuclear weapons, after the gruesome assassination of Benazir Bhutto?

Join Host: Debo Kotun

and

Co-Host: Ahmed Ali

Mr. Ali is the President of Geo-Etka, Inc., a geotechnical consulting firm in Orange, California. Mr. Ali has been involved in community activities with the FBI, the Department of Homeland Security, and the Los Angeles Sheriff Department. He was the president of COPAA, and is currently on the board of directors of the Los Angeles World Affairs Council.

Saturday, January 12,2008 1:00 to 2:00 PM (PST) Pacifica Radio KPFK 90.7 FM Los Angeles and 98.7 Santa Barbara

Special Guests:

Consul General Syed Ibne Abbas

Mr. Abbas joined the Consulate General of Pakistan, Los Angeles on August 03, 2006. Prior to his present assignment, he served in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Islamabad as Director General (2004-2006). He joined the Foreign Service of Pakistan in 1983 and held various diplomatic assignments at the Pakistan Missions aboard: Berne (1989-1992), Geneva (1992-1994), Canberra (1998-2001) and New Delhi (2001-2004). He also worked at the Headquarters as Director and Desk Officer, and served as Deputy Secretary, Prime Minister's Secretariat (1995-1997). He has represented Pakistan and led delegations on several occasions on bilateral and multilateral fora. He attended the 1997 and 2006 UN General Assembly sessions as a Pakistan delegate. He represented Pakistan at the Conference on Disarmament and attended meetings of the South Asian Association for Regional Co-operation (SAARC) and Organization of Islamic Conference (OIC). He has delivered talks at the Pakistan's premier civil and military training institutions. He holds master degrees in Political Science and International Relations.

and

Dr. Majjida Ahmed

Ms. Ahmed is a practicing physician in Whittier, California and is associated with Beverly, Pacific, and Coast Plaza Hospitals. She has been a member of medical organizations such as APPNA and SMCAANA. She was a first responder for Kashmir, Pakistan Earthquake. She is actively involved in political and philantropic works.

Participate in the conversation by calling: (818) 985-5735

Listen online at http://www.kpfk.org/

A Labalaba Rediffusion Theatre production .

Producer: Selome Araya

Dear You

2008-01-10T09:08:00.000-08:00

A message written long ago for the partner that would surface in my life. Now that he has, I've given him this note.

Dear You,

There’s room for you here, and I’m happy you came over. This visit has been long overdue. I’ve had my doubts, but I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I met you. There was something in the universe, on that day, that told me to wait for you and open up my arms when you surfaced. It’s like a dream that was already had, many times over in my heart. I knew that once you came, all the heartbreak and pain, all the confusion and loneliness, the waiting and space-fillers, would all make sense. Or merely become distant memories in my past life. Things that I couldn’t wait to let go of, people that I really just wanted to forget, would be on the backburner. I knew that I would be sent my companion, the one that I deserve so much. They say, good begets good. And the universe knows that I have been great. You see, I decided to wait for you, and not give myself to anyone too deep emotionally, until I knew it was you. Sure, this past year I have hung out with a few. But, none of them stuck. So, I learned my lesson, finally. To take things slow, and not rush into any more magical fantasy-like whirlwinds. Unless I knew. Clearly, I didn’t. Clearly, those situations didn’t last, because I was simply waiting for the right one. The right time. The answer, to all the confusing questions about love and friendship. And it is a blessing to finally know you. Thank you for coming over. I will make sure that our time together is filled with love and goodness. There’s nothing here for you to fear. Just know that you are my partner and I can’t wait to explore the rest of this journey together.

Love,

Selome

May 23, 2006

So, What About Those Levees?

2008-01-10T08:21:00.000-08:00

So, What About Those Levees?

New Orleans: Where Geography, History, Engineering, and Race
Danced in Destructive Harmony

And Could Again…

COMING SOON.

I am in the Wilderness

2008-01-09T18:46:00.000-08:00

She walked into Earth at the age of twenty-eight. Floating around the things “they” called countries, she couldn’t help but notice how all the people who spoke different languages, praised different gods, and looked differently, all seemed to have similarities in the way they functioned. Then why was there so much division? she wondered to herself. I’ve been to all the continents of this planet and all the humans seem fundamentally the same, in the way they: need food to stay alive, use the bathroom, give birth, have sex, feel pain, walk, blink, cry, sweat, bleed, and a host of other human activities.

And if they are the same inside, why do these “humans” constantly treat each other with such barbaric hatred? And why do some actually think they are better?

Perplexed.

She couldn’t comprehend why there had to be so much negative energy permeating this place. And where was the “most peaceful place on Earth” she’d heard about? It was hard to find a piece of peace anywhere she’d been. Contradictory confusions; she ran into them often here.

Seemed like a wilderness of confused and misguided beasts, she thought.

They’ve got it all wrong…

Of Water and The Spirit

2008-01-09T16:13:00.000-08:00

Right now, I'm in the process of being on a journey. With a book. It's called: "Of Water and The Spirit" by Malidoma Some'. It's one of the most intensely spiritually divine pages pulled together to tell a story. Reading it connects me to that sacred ancestral energy that's always been brewing in my heart. Much of it I've felt as if I've actually written myself!

It's made me feel misplaced, as I sometimes do. This environment we're in keeps us from truly, consistently, and holistically being connected to nature and the "other-wordly" elements that are so important to our spiritual development.

But, we try to keep them present.

Nonetheless, I have pulled some quotes from the first 80 pages or so. I will be adding more, of course. Take a dive...

“When cultures with contradictory versions of reality collide, children are often the casualties of that contact”

“A name is the life program of its bearer”

“The good in a service has little to do with the service itself, but with the kind of heart one brings to the task”

“Grandfather used to call the rain “the erotic ritual between heaven and Earth.” The rain represented the seeds sown in the Earth’s womb by heaven, her roaring husband, to further life. Rainy encounters between heaven and Earth were sexual love on a cosmic scale. All of nature became involved. Cloud’s, heaven’s body, were titillated by the storm. In turn, heaven caressed the Earth with heavy winds, which rushed toward their erotic climax, the tornado. The grasses that pop out of the Earth’s womb shortly after the rain are called the numberless children of Earth who will serve humankind’s need for nourishment. The rainy season is the season of life. Yes, it had rained the night before.”

“When activated, emotion has a ceiling it must reach. At its apex, grief turns the body into a vessel of chaos. But it is just such a climactic chaos that can cleanse both the person and his or her spirit”.

“Different cultures have different relationships with their dead, and I know very well that in a culture of skyscrapers and high technology, dead people don’t walk. Instead, they are placed in nice expensive caskets and driven to the cemetery in elegant black cars. They are put quickly out of sight so that life can go on.

Why do the dead walk where I come from? They walk because they are still as important to the living as they were before. They are even more meaningful, as the breadth and depth of our funeral ritual shows. We do not hide their bodies away-because we want to see those bodies to help us remember the person’s life and all the good they did for us. We need to remember that they are well on their way to becoming an ancestor. We must see our dead so that we can truly mourn them, all the way through, without restraint, to release the grief from our hearts once and for all.”

“To the Dagara, children are the most important members of society, the community’s most precious treasures. We have a saying that it takes the whole tribe to raise a child. Homes have doorless entrances to allow children to go in and out whenever they want, and it is common for a mother to not see her child for days and nights because he or she is enjoying the care and love of other people. When the mother really needs to be with her child, she will go from home to home searching for it”.

“Wealth among the Dagara is determined not by how many things you have, but by how many people you have around you. A person’s happiness is directly linked to the amount of attention and love coming to him or her from other people. In this, the elder is the most blessed because he is in the most visible position to receive a lot of attention. The child is too, because it “belongs” to the whole community”.

“Every person is an incarnation, that is, a spirit who has taken on a body. So our true nature is spiritual. This world is where one comes to carry out specific projects. A birth is therefore the arrival of someone, usually an ancestor that somebody already knows, who has an important tasks to do here.”

“The ancestors are the real school of the living. They are the keepers of the very wisdom the people need to live by. The life energy of ancestors who have not yet been reborn is expressed in the life of nature, in trees, mountains, rivers, and still water. Grandfathers and grandmothers, therefore, are as close to an expression of ancestral energy and wisdom as the tribe can get”.

“Religious colonialism tortures the soul. It creates an atmosphere of fear, uncertainty, and general suspicion. The worst thing is that it uses the local people to enforce itself. Our teachers were Black, from the tribe, yet they were our worst enemies. The question I often asked myself in later years, when I thought about how Black nationals are leading our country, is whether a person schooled in an atmosphere of such abuse can actually lead with compassion, justice, and wisdom. My experience was not uncommon. Today, Africa’s leaders are mostly people who were educated in this manner. Is it surprising that there is so much instability in so many African countries?”

“The power of quiet is great. It generates the same feelings in everything one encounters. It vibrates with the cosmic rhythm of oneness. It is everywhere, available to anyone at any time. It is us, the force within that makes us stable, trusting, and loving. It is contemplation contemplating us. Peace is letting go-returning to the silence that cannot enter the realm of words because it is too pure to be contained in words. This is why the tree, the stone, the river, and the mountain are quiet”.

“Telling diminishes what is told. Only what has been integrated by the human aspect of ourselves can be shared with others. I have also come to believe that things stay alive proportionally to how much silence there is around them. Meaning does not need words to exist”.

“The word is not the meaning and the meaning is not the word. At best words are merely a vehicle, a very shaky and second-rate means of human communication. This is because meaning does not have a body”.

“What came to me as good news from the beginning was to learn that the Earth is round and that it is hanging in the middle of nowhere and moving very fast. I never knew why I was happy about that, but sometimes I found myself wishing the whole planet would just quit its trajectory and go somewhere else”.

The Pan-African Bridge

2008-01-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

The Pan-African Bridge: My Dream of African People's Uniting and Healing
*published in African Path

A recurring question has positioned itself on the tip of my brain for quite some time now, insisting on receiving attention and critical thought.

That question is: When will the Africans of this planet truly embrace and join forces?

We are living in crazy times.

Times that send us daily reminders of the spiritual imbalance and familial disconnect permeating amongst the human species.

We humans were thrown off balance during many dark episodes in our past. Some of us are in environments that never fully speak to our spirits; but, we roam nonetheless.

As a woman who embodies both Ethiopian and African-American heritages, the importance of intensifying the bridge between continental Africans and those in the Diaspora is continuously reinforced in me. Having spent ample time in Africa and growing up in North America as a black woman, I’ve found myself on a perpetual quest to pull these two worlds together in a myriad of ways. I have envisioned numerous ways that the two could support one another’s struggles and embrace each other’s respective rich cultural elements.

Throughout my journey I have been both disillusioned and inspired by the limited knowledge and contact that exists between the two; I’ve seen this manifest into a plethora of misperceptions and unfamiliarity that continue to provide a blockade to unity, freedom and spiritual bonding. Speaking with my people in Ghana, Zambia, Kenya, Ethiopia, Venezuela, and elsewhere, I have found that it is sometimes difficult for continental Africans to acknowledge that those of us that were forced outside of the continent are no less African than they are, for being African is not based on geography. It is in one’s spiritual essence and line of blood.

It was in these moments, in these conversations of pleading, that my heart ached the most. I sometimes felt as if I had to defend the entire African Diaspora’s claim to the continent. Granted, there were individuals who wholeheartedly embraced and acknowledged the damage that history has done to this family. It was these conversations that reminded my heart to smile. It made me understand that “they” didn’t succeed completely in tearing us apart.

But see, I’m in a unique position. My role doesn’t end there. Being connected physically, culturally, ancestrally, and spiritually to both places, I find myself in a similar position in America, speaking to people of African descent here and reminding them that that far away “foreign” land is their home just as much as Chicago or Brooklyn are. Even though they may not have ever been to it in the physical realm or have a parent from there, much of their DNA and spiritual ancestry can be traced there.

This is why I call it our home.

But these discussions are not simply to remind continental and Diasporic Africans that Africa is our home. And not just that the Diaspora has claim to it as such.

I also have to go above and beyond to educate people on the truth. On one end, the truth means that: not every African-American is a criminal (i.e.-don’t take what you see in the biased media or in films to represent the entire lot), a basketball star, living as lavish as Beyonce, with as much wealth as Oprah or as much political “power” as Condoleeza. I have to repeatedly explain that what is not shown on television or in the media are the stark contrasts that exists in this country, in regards to how communities live and what opportunities are readily available to them. Though some of us (living in North America) may have relatively more access to resources and opportunities than our brothers and sisters abroad, there are still numerous hurdles and institutional hoops we have to leap through, and still a major gap that exists.

So contrary to popular belief, I share with them that everyone here is definitely not receiving a large piece of the so-called “American dream”. There is struggle here, many injustices, and so much the media doesn’t show the world. Like, Katrina, for example. When I lived in Zambia in the summer of 2006, I remember some of my co-workers saying, “We had no idea our brothers and sisters were being treated that way in (North) America”. They were referring to the horrendous images from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I hadn’t realized that, prior to this unveiling, they had thought that life was so rosy for us here in this country, and that it took something that blatant to reveal the truth. Granted, we (in North America) are doing well in some areas, but there are still systematic injustices that are not talked about enough. Such as police brutality, the prison industrial complex, very present and deeply entrenched racism, and the list continues… I found myself discussing these issues often, almost defending again! It was a struggle, but it just fueled me even more to work to create an on-going dialogue and relationship.

And, back in North America, I find myself in the same position: speaking about the truth, but from the opposite end: continuously having to educate people about “Africa”, dispelling the myths, misperceptions, generalizations and stereotypes. (i.e.: yes, people actually drive cars and use cell phones!). It is incredible how little information gets passed on to the Diaspora. The majority of information passed on about Africa is related to wars, AIDS, and other catastrophic events happening on the continent. Although very crucial realities do exist and need attention and support from the Diaspora, it disturbs me that there is such an imbalance. There is relatively little discussion about the thousands of enhancements happening daily, the businesses being generated, the regional integration that is strengthening the African presence in the world, and all of the beauty that permeates the land and thrives amongst the people.

However, while it is important to be educated on the struggles of continental Africans, I find it increasingly important for people to also know the other side of the continent; the side that isn’t the negativity blasted throughout the media and entrenched in every lecture or mainstream film about "Africa". I know there are people who are well exposed to the positive attributes of the continent, and have found various ways to connect themselves with it, but I still encounter many who are not.

Even as I try to educate people of African descent and dispel un-truths, I’ve found that both groups are on the receiving end of the negative global perception of anyone who is “of African descent”. Though we are enriched with so much goodness it’s overflowing from our pores, we share the common trait of being viewed in a certain light by the global community. Constant imagery of negative components of our activities only increases these perceptions.

This is yet another reason that I have been focusing my energies on the importance of reviving the once active plea for Pan-Africanism, not only for these two entities to join forces politically, but also to empower, support, and heal one another as we co-exist in this world as fellow Africans. The outcome of this information exchange is to discover new ways of supporting one another’s struggles while also being inspired by our respective triumphs; embrace our perceived differences as complimentary tools for growth and enhancement; and realize that ultimately, we need each other. And realize that together we can strengthen our global position in this life.

If we don't change our internal image of one another, how will the world ever see us any differently?

As Africans on the continent and the branches living around the world continue to struggle, there is a silent calling occurring amongst the ancestors; saying that the time to speak to one another is now. The time to heal one another is now. That more than ever, connecting with one another, is crucial.

I envision a day when all people of African descent accept that these two groups in fact come from the same root. Though separated geographically, they are in fact one family: historically stripped apart by an outside force, but eternally bonded by spiritual and ancestral connections that many have tried to make invisible.

This bond, however, is as unbreakable as it is strong.

But, you see…

In order for it to thrive and fly, the two entities must speak to each other and create a common language that has been lost; design a common understanding that’s been removed; and develop a mutual understanding and respect that’s been silenced.

This one thing remains true: an African, whether living in Nigeria, Brazil, America, or France, is a person whose lineage and bloodlines can be traced back to one originating location: Africa. Whether you identify as African, Black, being of African origin or descent, African-American, Caribbean, Afro-Latino, New Afrikan, or an African living abroad, one common trait holds true: we are all bound by our origination from and lasting connection to the same land. The African world is bigger than the territory and borders of the continent. It spans the entire globe, and includes our presence on all seven continents.

Yes, indeed, we are everywhere.

But where are we really, if family members can’t even recognize one another?

Uniting these two groups will re-connect a large portion of humanity back to itself, back to its family. Members of the global village will begin to regain our humanity. The discord of the universe has been off for some time, and this is one way in which healing and change can begin to take place. By the sheer magnitude of division, ignorance, and lack of consistent and direct contact and relationship building, this family has continued to be susceptible to continued exploitation by the same dis-connector.

How can healing take place on the planet when a large portion of humanity is dis-connected from its homeland and family? In this symbolic and literal bridge, everyone’s life will be enhanced as the vibrancy of humanity will be tweaked and moved towards harmonic balance.

This will be a bridge of human relationships but more importantly, a bridge that connects a family together.

It’s spiritual harmonizing.

What the world needs now.

me, happy

2008-01-09T15:39:00.000-08:00

I wrote this a while back. just thought i'd share. :)

Me happy, the little things that make me

It's nice to reflect on the things that make our spirits go bounce. Even if, just an ounce.

New love. The giddy, I'm so blind and free kind!
A nice hearty, belly-filling meal.
Hearing Taya communicate like she is grown!
Messages about using the potty!
Fluffy looking at animal planet on t.v., thinking the animals are there in the flesh!!
A good conversation with my mommy.
Listening to Mona tell stories.
When I think of how to say a whole conversation in Spanish. In my head.
Hearing Stevie's "As", near an empty dance floor.
Dance away sundrop!
Being the only one buggin out on the dance floor.
Did I mention dancing?
Laughing 'til I cry with Asti and Sara.
A day of sunshine. And I mean that.
Eating Meme's Ethiopian food. Authentic!
Reminiscing
Running into someone I miss
Making a child laugh
Sourdough bread before a meal at a restaurant
Seeing an old couple that have become one
Helping someone else. It's the highest high.
Elizabeth's yams
Being in water
The last day of my cycle (gasp!)
Hearing that I made a difference in someone's life
Crossing things off my 'to do' list
Talking to Aunti Tutu
Visiting with the Gayles
Being at Agape with my spiritual fam
Singing: I release and I let go!!! (love you carl)
Knowing that I'm trying to be the change I want to see
When I can actually sit still
Getting pictures back from the shop
Eating moist lemon cake
Thinking of a great idea and taking steps to manifest it
Random silly texts from good friends
'Friends' nights with the girls
Continual re-discovery of the 3 degrees of separation between everyone in L.A.
Championship Laker games! (from '87 'til…)
Thinking about the little things I learned from Granny
Being at the beach.
Oh how I miss the beach.
A live music performance that makes you want to thank the artist for responding to their calling
Hearing a song from the 90's that I know all the words to
Driving alone with the windows down, singing to the air
When clarity hits me
Seeing Fresh City so in sync.
Talking to Thea about life
Seven-hour phone conversations (yes, I've had them)
Hearing Taya say "I love you 'Namay'"
Being in love
When my headache goes away
Meeting a new, exciting human
Conversations with random intriguing people on the subway
Sitting at a piano with sheet music and realizing----I can still read music
Saying something funny and having everyone around me laugh
Having a conversation in Spanish (with someone else this time)
Bringing lots of people together (ohhh, the parties, the gatherings, the reunions)
When justice is served! (no more politics here, promise)
Outdoor festivals in the summer in Los Angeles
Getting a full body massage
Seeing my mom get excited
Being with my families (yes, I have more than 1)
Having conversations with Jason Jr.
When little kids stare at me
Learning Amharic
A hearty, juicy, red plum!
The first kiss
A GOOD, long kiss
Smelling clothes in the dryer with fabric softener (yumm)
The mahi mahi salad from Baja Fresh (damn, I love food)
Leaving the USA
Traveling!!!
Singing old songs I know EVERY word to
Eating at Café Brazil on my way to Venice Beach to ride bikes (whew! All my faves…)
Going home
Coming back
Going to sleep.
And actually FALLING asleep..

And i'll add:
Making a new young friend (little people are the best!)
Being with the T's
Connecting people to needed resources and opportunities
Writing
Eating some good Indian food
Going to Mama Africa

writing spicy stews of freedom

2008-01-08T20:28:00.000-08:00

le planet. oh, dear planet. we need you, yet treat you like an enemy that stole our prized possession.

skip down.

oh, dear humanity. how we treat each other. like the compassion bone got disconnected from the. hip. bone.

makes for a sour (seldom sweet) existence for many. with souls in disarray, struggling just to lift an eyelid.

gasping to be quenched.

you see, the beautiful struggle ain’t too pretty for many

the real soldiers, climbing.

so we. we try to channel the good cheer, love the life we’ve been given, and share the excess we enjoy with the masses who can’t even perceive it

as we dance on dreams of liberation and peace, there’s hope of neutralizing humanity to the point of true world balance.

making dichotomies invisible, disparities a memory, inequality a thing talked about only in past tense.

where we erase —wars. racism. hunger. oppression. human rights abuses. imperialism. all those other isms—

and non-sensical tactics of greed and hate, from our vocabulary.

yow.

she stopped.

and whispered: it will actually include a global spiritual overhaul, won’t it?

like, full concentrated energies in the direction of change.

see, we jedi masters realize that, the laws of attraction sometimes need a little boost

i imagine this…

the vision: a globe where the sons and daughters who trot its land, have ample [ food, water, & a chance ], optimal holistic health, and freedom from injusticecorruptiondiscriminationracismsystematicoppression. breathe reality into ‘human rights’. i’m over the rhetoric.

ya umi said: “shine your light on the world”.

Mutinta Mapepe

2008-01-08T19:24:00.000-08:00

(true short story)

Mutinta Mapepe. This is the name of my newest and youngest little friend. She is ten, I guessed her age right on the money. She is the sweetest and most humble little girl I have ever met. She came to visit me as I was washing the dishes. There is something about her that always makes me smile, and she the same. She is so at peace in her life. At first it was hard to find things to talk about with her. She came here looking for something, mostly some company. The girls in the house seem to be searching for themselves outside of Lusaka. I offer something different, something else to do. They have been visiting often now. The older ones, and now the little one. Mutinta. She reminds me of a little old lady; she’s definitely been here before. We talk about random things here and there, but her face lights up when we talk about school and the games they play. I had asked her if she knows any hand games, mainly searching for more of my own Zambian cultural lessons as much as I am trying to find something to talk to her about. She speaks great English but sometimes, it’s the concepts that don’t translate. She is so enthusiastic about showing me these games, finding humor in my inability to grasp what she considers the simplest of instructions. I’m enjoying this too, more so because she really is. She looked through my pictures, ate some cookies, and just looked at me sometimes. I ask her about her family more, because the relations of the people living in the house sometimes confuse me. She explains that she is from Livingstone and she doesn’t miss it much. That is where the Victoria waterfalls are. I told her I want to go next weekend. She tells me of specific places to go when I am there. We look at a map of Africa. She’s been to Zimbabwe and doesn’t know where Ethiopia is; never heard of it for that matter. I show her and tell her that is where my father is from. I have come to realize that this is something I’m quite proud of, as I mention it often. Her mother comes, letting us know it is time for her bath. She says she will be back. Just then two of the older girls come to visit with me again. I am so happy that they are comfortable coming over. I don’t like to feel like a ‘foreigner’, and they make me feel as if I am not.

I'm an African and I know what's happenin'

2008-01-08T19:04:00.000-08:00

I'm an African and I know what's happenin'

I wrote this while in Ghana as the result of many conversations. This is from the voice of a person who embodies Ethiopian and African-American blood, raised in America, but eternally connected to the Continent

My cherie amor, distant as a milkyway.

That’s how it feels sometimes. When we talk about the Africans taken from their homeland and how we are perceived in relation to our home. Like a distant galaxy that lives in us in spite of perceived space.

It’s heart-wrenching and catastrophic in an instant.

I love how some “continental” Africans embrace those of us that were forcefully transported to our respective Diasporic locations. I love how they know that we…we are their brothers and sisters. They know that we didn’t up and walk out of the continent in hopes of a better life. They know that we…we were removed from it against our will. I love when we can be recognized as belonging here, as having just as much claim to this land as folks who were born and raised here.

I say, it’s not where you're at, but where you're from. The other way around (“it’s not where you’re from but where you’re at”) just clouds reality, negates history, and disconnects bloodlines inadvertently. But whether it’s intended or not, it must be acknowledged that stemming from Africa, whether ancestrally or physically, cannot be taken away from someone based on their geographic placement.

It is written; in our souls and in our eyes. You can’t take it away no matter how hard you try.

They sure did though (try, that is), and succeeded frighteningly well in some aspects. Those of us still grasping for the connection feel the brunt of that success in more ways than one.

As the song says: “I’m an African, and I know what’s happenin”.

Being an African is more than living on the continent. It’s a self-identifying, spiritually innate, historically factual, ancestrally undeniable, bloodline-rich, genetic reality that exists everywhere and is bound to no one region.

I believe it’s true.

First night in Ghana

2008-01-08T19:01:00.000-08:00

Wow. I’m in Ghana right now. It’s significant for many reasons.

First, this is my third trip to the continent in one year. I mean, how amazing and rare is that? I feel blessed beyond measure, but I know I manifested a lot of this. But more on that later…stay tuned.

Second, the 50th anniversary of Ghana’s independence from the shackles of European “powers” is being celebrated right now. So much of this place is connected to the larger struggle for African people’s emancipation. I feel so alive being here during this time of celebrating freedom. And that’s no rhetoric.

Thirdly, we are taking part in a very important process in the African Union (AU). Although many believe it is just rhetoric, I think it’s historic and important. And we’re taking part in calling for the African Diaspora to be included in the process. For real this time though. Like in the days of Garvey and Nkrumah. Mmhmm. More on that later too.

Fourthly, a piece I have written is being passed out in a publication here! I can say I am finally seeing the means to this dream of mine. I can see the power of the laws of attraction at work though. If you concentrate enough of your energy, and truly believe in something, there’s a strong chance that it will happen. But you gotta have faith, faith, faith.

Oh, and fifth: I didn’t have to pay for it and I’m here doing work again. WOW.

Back to where I am.

I arrived last night after the arduous process of transporting ones self from North America to Africa. Now, for anyone who has never done this, let’s just say, it’s a journey that at times feels like it’s never going to end. Even though I’ve made this trek a few times now, it never gets easier to digest the concept of taking 24 hours (or more) to get somewhere, by plane. Either way, this transit (thank god) didn’t include any hurdles. I just eased on through the gates and all the attempts to keep people “in their place” and made it with no problems. I am referring to this visa/passport/ticket prices/security process these airports and governments and embassies put folks through. Just to get home, we have to jump hoops and run around like a chicken in preparation for the battle. That’s what it felt like sometimes. I got five days to prepare, and only five hours to spare. It was like I was on speed, just overdosing on to-do lists and high off the end goal in sight. Coupled with moving out of my apartment and a host of other “things”, it was a daymare straight up and down. We did it though. But through the process, I began to re-visit the concept of a visa. All it seems to be is a way to make some extra change to feed the diplomats. Ain’t no point to it. Application, four pictures, a copy of your yellow fever vaccine, passport, blah blah. Then what? Oh, there’s a fee with that. That seems to be all they need. I got my entry stamp of approval, “rushed” (extra $30, please). Absurdity. It’s one of the things on the agenda here. A symbolic African passport has been created; folks are pushing for there to be no visa requirements for Africans to move throughout the continent. It’s called free movement in one’s home. Why should someone from a neighboring country have to provide a visa to enter these so-called borders that were demarcated by Europeans (think: divide and conquer tactics), fictitious in every sense? Ahhh, they speak. Away with this division and restrictions. This was their system; and as we move towards complete overhaul of all of their structures, let us take with it these things that cripple our ability to engage with one another when we please.

That was a tangent, and clearly could be expanded on for 8 pages.

Ghana is like being on an island; weather and topographically, that is. Aint nothing better than palm trees and lush shrubbery, a subtle ocean breeze, heat, a little water falling from the sky, humidity, and African’s laughing and talking together outside and in building sessions. I mean, I think it just might be one of the best feelings I’ve experienced in these here twenty seven years of mine.

It’s beautiful. As soon as I stepped off the plane (we were outside), I just took it in and smiled. It just felt like, I think I belong here. Now, folks who I’ve discussed these things with in the past will be like, but Selome, you felt like you could live in Zambia, or Kenya, or Ethiopia, or wherever too. ‘Tis true my dears. I always feel like I could live here, because, it is where my spirit calls home.

So I got in last night, stayed up a bit, and had to wake up at 7 a.m.!!! Ever traveled across the world and had to get up early that next morning?! They say (who they is, I’ll never know) that it’s best to not sleep in when you’ve traveled so that you can adjust to the new time switch. Um, right. But did they also say that the very next morning you should get up, work all day long, and still be up the next night at 1 a.m.?! At some point today during the summit/conference meetings, I dozed off. Okay, at three points. But, no one could blame me. Jet lag is a MOTHER. But, as I told Hakima today, 90% of all “issues” we have are in our brain, so I psyched myself out mentally, keeping my eyes on the bigger picture, and why I’m here (as Mona always reminds me to do).

Dozed off though, coupla times. Had to go outside and walk, just to keep myself alert. It worked. Then I woke up tremendously when I took part in this one discussion. Whew, I wish I could go into detail, but it’s all so so much. It’s all just so much, but good things are brewing.

And apparently, I’m really Egyptian.

I’ve been typing all day, being a journalist here and all. Smashing darling. Been typing all all all day, and it won’t stop. But, I can now.

Oh, by the by. In the last 24 hours, I’ve met people that I hope to never lose touch with.

Give thanks to the highest degree.

And so WE is.

east.africa.rendezvous

2008-01-08T18:55:00.000-08:00

January 2007

I want to tell a story.

It is a medley of travel, movement, relationships, fear, self-discovery, and determination.

Really, it’s just a bunch of babble.

But, if you read until the end, you’ll hear about a magnificently dramatic event that goes down in my history as one of the MOST.

Peep.

I recently went on a quick expedition to Ethiopia and Kenya, for two very different reasons, with two extremely different experiences. In E, I went on a silent mission to check on my pops now that he returned home after thirty years. In K, I went on another mission to attend the World Social Forum and give a workshop. In between both journey’s, much was revealed and it’s oh so exciting to talk about.

So, after four years, I returned to my father’s homeland to find it quite different than the last. As more people migrate from the countryside, Addis is overflowing with humans. In the same instant, buildings and technological “advances” are springing up faster than population growth (and further widening the income gaps). But what I noticed is that the infrastructure of the capitol city isn’t keeping up with this growth. To say that it was chaotic would be a misrepresentation; but, to put it simply: there’s a lot happening. It reminded me of New York City, but instead of the 7 or-so million people in the city being from various parts of the planet, almost every person was Ethiopian. The dichotomy of the capital is so interesting. There is so much poverty still ever-present, while cappuccino café’s, “malls” and spa’s are popping up faster than flowers in springtime. Good lawd. The contrasts, smack dab on top of each other. But, it’s dope that mad folks are moving back home to help build up their country. Hooray for the folks who go home to uplift, so we don’t have to “depend” on International NGO’S who think they’re saviors! (And, might I add, there are a million international NGO’s in Addis. One of the highest rates on the continent. Hmph. Those World Vision pictures from the 80’s really got to folks).
Oops, I digressed.

It was good to be back, but one of the saddest realizations I was reminded of throughout each day is that I have Ethiopian blood in my stream and don’t even speak one-tenth of Amharic. I have been on a quest to learn, but I’m not at the point I need to be. Perhaps twenty times a day I was spoken to in Amharic, and perhaps forty times a day, I received a look of confusion and sometimes shame when it was discovered that I could only go so far in my responses (same thing happens in the states, but not to that extent). I mean sometimes, the entire mini-bus would join in and drop their jaws. Apparently over the years I have grown more into my Ethiopian features, so no one could understand why I looked just like them but could not communicate in the native tongue. It’s already been a painful realization, but these constant reinforcements made me feel even more…empty? It’s hard to find the right verbiage for this feeling, but once I remind myself that it’s not my ’fault’, then I feel slightly better. I have to repeatedly explain that I was simply not taught the language and that, the older we get, the more of a challenge it is to do absorb it. But little do they know that learning this language is something I yearn for more than most things in this life. It was strange, but I felt like I was trying to pry my way into my own culture as I navigated the city. I can communicate on simplistic levels and understand a good amount, but the meat of it, I ain’t tasted yet. Please believe, I make very strong efforts to practice and use what little I do know. But after this trip, my goal of moving there for a moment in time became that much more relevant and necessary. I believe language is vital and SO MUCH cannot be translated or conveyed in English. Yea, Spanish, I got, but that’s just yet another European language, isn’t it?! It’s time to master an African one…

The other part of this journey that’s worth mentioning is the dynamic of my pops and I. So as to not get super intensely personal, I will say that our relationship has been surface and distant for most of my life. In essence, he was the “I’m-around-but-not-really” father and mom’s held it down like no other human could. During this visit, as he tried to make up for the lost years, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, sorry for me, and just sorry for all the girls who I know that really don’t have a solid relationship with their baba’s. I’m happy I went and spent time with him but the distance that’s been wedged might just have to stand as is. But, he is in fact doing better than he was in the states!

Otherwise I am happy to have seen some family members, bonded more with one of my favorite uncles, learned more, made some great contacts, had a few meetings, celebrated my 27th, and explored the country again. It was a short trip (last time I stayed for three whole months!), so I didn’t get to partake in the beauty of the countryside as I wanted to. Really, it’s enchanting. But I had hecka fun and was fulfilled with my trip. And, if I was there longer, I woulda gotten involved with the Ethiopian political prisoner situation...but that’s another bedtime story for another day!

Now, Kenya…

This week-long ride was filled jam-packed to the brim. As a member of the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement organization (MXGM-NYC Chapter), I went along with the delegation to the World Social Forum to conduct one of the five workshops we were doing. My workshop was called “NGO’s and Neo-Colonialism”, talking about the overabundance of International (outside) NGO’s in Africa and how they are mechanisms used to control the lives of Africans, just as missionary colonial powers attempted to do. It was hot, if I do say so my daaaaaamn self (of course with the help of some great leaders on the subject: Dr. Tajudeen-Abdul Raheem and Firoze Manji). Our other MXGM workshops were fiyahhhh too: black power, land liberation, political prisoners, and Katrina. It just don’t stop…

Nairobi is exquisite!! As soon as my friend picked me up from the airport, I was in love. It’s so lush (green) and pulsates with a vibrancy that you can only feel if you go. My Brooklyn roommate was home too and I stayed with her and her family. They took me in like I was one of the bunch, and I learned some new things about Somali culture that I never knew before. And we partied like the Apocalypse was coming with the next sunrise. You know, like there’s “no tomorrow”.
The World Social Forum was something that was good to experience, solely for the networking and building we did with folks. But overall, it was a rhetoric-filled preaching-to-the-choir, “I’m so liberal” environment that was not as organized as it should have been and had entirely too much going on simultaneously. But there were a few progressive happenings happening. Yea, a few. I had mad fun with my MXGM comrades though. We bonded like crazy, having meetings ‘til 4 a.m. and just hangin out, laughing. “FREE THE LAND!” And this is where the friendship with me and Jamila was born! (She’s six, but called me her best friend. Awwwwwwwww).

But, as I always do, there’s a dramatic way that this story is going to end. I mean, if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be a Selome story!!!!!!!

The day before I leave Nairobi, something really really realllllllly wack happened. Something I wish to never experience again. Something that tops my experience at the border between Malawi and Zambia last summer (for those that don’t know…it was intense). Basically, I’m chillin chillin, mindin’ my business. And low and behold…someone up and STOLE MY PURSE!!!!!!!!!!

WAHHHH?

Right in front of us. And we ain’t even see them.

Yep. With my passport, credit cards, I.D., temporary cell phone, digital camera, flash drive, etc. etc. all in it.

And I’m supposed to fly out tomorrow?!

It’s one of those things you just have to sit back and sigh at.

Or cry.

Filing police reports, waiting for Western Union money orders to arrive from America, not sleeping, going to embassies the day of your flight to plead (and cry like an actress) to get a passport issued that same day. “Oh, we’re closing soon honey”. Oh no you ain’t MA’AM! I swear, that was my best performance yet. But it was sincere. And after much pleading, tears, and humble yes yes’s, I received it in one hour. And they say it could take up to 3 days.

Why the extra drama, people. Why???!!

That was quite an intense 24-hour period. Now as I look back, it’s comical.

But at the same time, so sad! We understand; folks are struggling and desperate, inventing all types of ways of surviving. Also, it is assumed that because I live in America, that I “have” a lot. Little do they know…And boy the conversations that have to be had about THAT!

But people (mainly Kenyan’s) tried to “warn” me about Nairobi, cuz they get robbed all the live-long day. I guess I believed that I’d be alright. After all, I am protected, right?

I do get kinda offended when people try to “scare” folks with warnings about Africa though, so I don’t listen like I should. Even if some of those folks doing the warnings are Africans too!

*sigh*

But I still give thanks that I’m breathing. And really, I am alright. After all, all that stuff is replaceable….well, most of it. And so it is…

More adventure fables to come

Up next…
westafrica.southamerica.neworleans.

dichotomy of humanity

2008-01-08T18:43:00.001-08:00

to you, the women

i hear your cries, women of the world. i can see that you don’t understand why your life is so hard, and Britney spears has $50,000,000 in her bank account. why do YOU have to walk 20 miles, barefoot, just to fetch clean water for your family. and how, if that water is contaminated, your children can die? I know. I’m not sure why either. But I do know that your strength and spirit make you very special and powerful indeed. You have no idea how your commitment and perseverance inspire me. You are incredible in so many ways. And I want to help you to live in peace, not poverty. I want to help you live in the light of the day, instead of the darkness of hunger and bad health. I have seen you, with my own eyes, carrying loads on your back, including your children, walking uphill, in the heat, to complete a task. The journey looks hard and I know I’ll never be able to understand it completely. I know I have lived a life of privilege and I was born into the other side of the world; the side that is hard, but in very different ways. You’d give anything to have food at your disposal as I’ve had. To have running water and a chance to live comfortably. I’m sure there is a reason for all this, because, as I’ve learned, there’s a reason for everything.

Well, I’m not all the way sure what the reasons for this is.
And I may not, ever.

Mind Over Matter and Soul Before Flesh

2008-01-08T18:40:00.000-08:00

Mind over matter and soul before flesh.
No, I don’t mind. But it does matter.
Then again, it doesn’t matter. But you do mind.

Calling, calling calling. Someone’s calling. Who’s calling?!
Calling. I hear it.
Someone’s calling.
Calling who, me? Calling, calling.
All the time. The box is full.
No, not them.
I’m calling. My calling. It’s time to call ME back.
Ohhhhhhhhh. YOUR calling.
What IS your calling, anyway?It’s a riddle, enchantress.

I’m calling YOU, fighters of freedom.
Calling in balance. A summons for some sense.
Calling on healing and peace.

I call george bush’s conscience to be on trial
And for his heart to be pure
I call for love
And more hugs
I call for strangers speaking to each other more
And less fear in this act

I call for a cease-fire from invasions
And war

I’m calling. Can you hear me?

Matter of mind. What are YOU calling for?

I’m writing this down, so we can all stand UP.

Cold

2008-01-08T18:35:00.000-08:00

Cold

It’s a cold world, in another cold war, with cold hearts, and cold visions. It’s cold in here
In this world
Where not everyone has a coat
There’s a cold plan
And a cold performance being waged
A cold fee being charged
A cold door to walk through
It’s cold
With some people not wearing shoes
Toes are frozen
There’s a cold shoulder
Cold times
Cold lies and cold hate
Cold guns dropping hot bombs
Cold homes that were once warm
Cold silence and cold grief
Cold distance
Cold children with no parents
It’s a cold war
In a cold world
Cold divisions and cold borders
Cold promises made of hot words
Cold enemies pretending to be friends
Cold hands, dirty with greed
Cold smiles behind dishonest eyes

What the world needs now
Is love
Sweet love
That’s the one thing
That there’s just
Too little of

Greed Invites Everyone In

2008-01-08T18:26:00.000-08:00

Greed Invites Everyone In

I
Still have rage
I can’t believe this system
The world
So many injustices, so much inhumanity
So much hate, so little love
I’m hurting
Not sure how to weave through this mess
How to break the chains
Re-work the rhythm
The whole world is under siege
There is a spiritual lack on the planet
Zombies, knocking each other over
For their own piece
Of some pie
That’s rotten now
With greed
Ignorance
And
Murder
It’s easy for people to live their fancy lives
In high rise buildings with doormen
With dogs that fit in their purses
And diamonds that someone lost his life for
You see
It’s easy for them
To forget that they come from a place
Of privilege
Of comfort
And silence
What do they care?
And why should they?
I look around
People are so weak
Things are so weak
Sometimes
Sometimes I feel like crying
And I do
Shed a tear for him
For her
Her son
Your dad
Where is he?
Oh, he’s MIA
Not in jail
Not dead
Just
Around
But not around me

You see
I try to smile
Show my dimples
Real big
To brighten up the room
I dance
I live
Freely
Sometimes though
Shit gets thick in my heart
And I just want to stop
Stop the smiling
Stop the fun
Stop the happiness
I want to stop the pain
That we go through
I want to see everyone else smiling too
They should join me
I walk around as if I’m carefree
But I’m not
I carry it all on my shoulders some days
Those days
Man, it’s like a brick is sitting on my temples
My beat
My eyelids
My feet
My spirit
It weighs me down emotionally
And gets me right here
Wondering if
If I’ll see this massive overhaul
He said
The only thing that will really work
Is a spiritual coup d’etat
Wow
How can this happen when half the world
Is caught in unnecessary wars
Some based on religion
Others based on territory
Many based on resources
And all based on egos
Power takes a trip
Greed invites everyone in
So the whole world essentially suffers
For a few pompous men
It ain’t about peace
Why they can’t see
That war is not the answer
Or is it?
It’s the answer to what they are trying to do
Flip countries upside down
‘Til they can’t even see
Let alone thrive
Then re-colonize them
Take over everything
And pimp them to dependency

‘The world is overrun with the wealthy and the wicked
All over the world hearts pound with the rhythm’

I wonder if it’s actually the same rhythm.

The Audacity of Hope

2008-01-08T16:18:00.000-08:00

From his book: The Audacity of Hope
Barack Obama

“These are the stories of those who didn’t make it out of history’s confinement, of the neighborhoods within the black community that house the poorest of the poor, serving as repositories for all the scars of slavery and violence of Jim Crow, the internalized rage and the forced ignorance, the shame of men who could not protect their women or support their families, the children who grew up being told they wouldn’t amount to anything and had no one there to undo the damage".

the mind

2008-01-07T10:42:00.000-08:00

the only way we can change conditions, transcend our experiences, or impact others in any meaningful way is to use the Power of Mind constructively

"free your mind, and the rest will follow"
"none but ourselves can free our minds"
"a mind is a terrible thing to waste"
"mind over matter and soul before flesh"
"the power of the mind is infinite"
"you can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind"
"great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people"
"the most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed"

"I know there is but One Mind, which is the Mind of God, in which all people live, move, and have their being. I know there is a Divine Pattern for humanity and within this pattern there is Infinite harmony and peace, cooperation, unity, and mutual helpfulness. I know that the mind of man, being one with the Mind of God, discovers the method, the way, and the means best fitted to permit the flow of Divine Love between individuals and nations. Thus, harmony, peace, cooperation, unity, and mutual helpfulness is experienced by all".

And so it is...

hands down

2008-01-07T09:42:00.001-08:00

The scariest moment of my life.

Well, at least one of them.

I try not to complain too much but sometimes…

Whoa.

So, I’m mad amped (very excited) to go to Malawi, meet Sangwani’s family, see his home country, and just, you know, travel.

I leave my home at 5:30 a.m. Friday morning, hoping to catch that “6:00 a.m.” bus, that I know wouldn’t leave until around 9:30. I was right.

Finally, we take off. And boy, did we taaaaaaaake offffffff.

On the way there, my thoughts of the bus driver’s thoughts: “geeze, this two-seater sports car I’m speeding up a winding mountain in rides as light as a feather”. I wanted to tap him on the shoulder at least seven different times and remind him that, um, he had a coach busload of people’s lives in his hand, not just his own. And remind him that he was not driving a racecar, but a BUS. Instead, I just shouted from my seat, and exchanged frustrating comments with my fellow frightened bus riders.

I remember thinking, this bus could easily tip over, roll down the hill, and crash. Then a girl I met on the bus tells me she just heard about another bus crashing recently in Zambia, killing thirteen people on board. Gulp. Is the driver aware of the fact that if you speed, while turning a 100-foot vehicle, you could possibly tip over? Was he aware?!?! Nonetheless, we arrived safely. Still, that was a scary journey. Even though we try to have faith and know, fear has a spirit stronger than many things in this world. And, man, I was shook.

But little did I know, the scariest moment was yet to come.

As I get off the bus in Chipata, the girls I had met on the bus were helping me to get a taxi to head to the border. I get in one quickly, trying to avoid the hound of drivers that are thirsty for a customer. Once inside, I meet another set of girls. They are Malawian, headed there as well. I adopted them, and told them they are stuck with me until we reach Lilongwe! (Such a great idea…you’ll see why!)

Even though we were already in a taxi (it was waiting to be full), as taxi driver after taxi driver after money exchanger after hustler came up to us, we were offered a ride to Lilongwe by a couple of Indian Zambian guys (cultural identity necessary for the story to flow). We all (the girls and I) agreed that they were pretty decent, solid cats. No problem, let’s roll! And, for free!?!? Suuuuuuure. Sure beats the other taxis and bus we would have to take to Lilongwe.

So, turns out, the Indian guys were waiting for some fax to come, so we got delayed. We finally decided to just go, because it was now getting dark, Friday was going to become Saturday, and us girls didn’t want to travel at night like that. Plus, I had people waiting for me on ‘the other side’ and it was getting late.

The cab driver speeds us to the border, and on the way there, the same Indian guys passed us up. Hey! Maybe we can still get a ride with them, we all wondered out loud, gleefully.

Me, the two girls, and the two Indian guys (named Ahmed and Meq) all head into the Zambian immigration exit office together. Meq hands the immigration officer our passports, just to speed up the process. As soon as I hand Meq my passport, I realized I forgot to renew my visa in Zambia. Initially they gave me thirty days and I was supposed to renew it (14 days prior to this encounter). Oooops! Well, maybe they will just make me pay some dollars and I will be on my way, I thought.

Or not.

As soon as the guy sees my visa has expired, the episode begins.

He proceeds to tell me that my Visa expired 14 days ago and continues to ask me why I am still in the country. Oh. My. Gosh.

I begin to get a little nervous, and try and explain to him that I was looking at the re-entry, which says 3 years. I honestly forgot to renew the 30-day stay though. I knew I was in the wrong, and told him that I had forgotten to renew it. Another (mean) man walks up and says, ‘Oh we have to detain her. She is here illegally. This is a crime’.

THUMP. THUMP. Skips two beats. Suspends.

WHAT?!?!?!?!

Meq is trying to calmly explain something (what, I couldn’t tell you) as the reason why I didn’t renew my Visa. I start to shake, and really get scared now. The girls try and calm me down when they see I’m about to cry.

Jail??

In ZAMBIA?!?!

No.

This is not happening right now. I’m a good person who made a baaaaaaaad mistake. But nonetheless, an honest one.

So, they take me outside to calm down and assured me that everything would be okay. Shortly thereafter, I’m called to the back office for questioning. Oh, so now I’m a criminal.

Wow.
Fear is intense. And loud.

Meq walks with me to the back, trying to console me, and tells me not to talk. He said if they ask you anything, pretend you don’t know, and tell them ‘talk to my fiance’ (Meq is now offering to pretend to be my fiancé).

((I’m shaking even writing about the experience))

So, I walk to the back, into a room with men sitting at their respective tables, ice-grilling and staring at me in disgust.

The guy immediately calls me over to sit down, but Meq has to stay over there. Well, there goes our plan. Not that it was really thought out in the first place!

As I sit down, I realize that this man is a cold one, out to prey on scared little ladies who appear harmless, and who he knows he will get something out of (an emotional response, a plea, some money, a good laugh). I thought this could get really, really bad.

He begins to ask me questions. More like interrogating me. Nasty-like. All my notions of Zambian’s being such friendly people temporarily froze with my disbelief and fear. (All has been thawed out now. I love (most of) them, again.)

Why are you in this country illegally? (I forgot to renew my visa). What are you doing here? (Working). Why did you lie to the embassy? (I didn’t). Your passport says you are a visitor, but you say you are working (I am). Why don’t you have your work permit? (My office didn’t give me a copy). Do you know that you have committed a crime and should be thrown in jail? Why aren’t you being honest? (No response).

We have to detain you. (Thump, Skip, Stop)

Or you have to pay one hundred and eight million kwacha.

Meq lies and says I’m a guest of his. He partly (albeit falsely) takes the blame for me not renewing my Visa. They try and reprimand him for knowing better, by not insisting I renew my Visa.

When they walk away, we remind each other of our names. (Excuse me Mr. Fiance, what’s your name again?). I got so terrified that they would start asking questions about him and I wouldn’t know the first thing. Whew!

I am petrified, an emotional description that doesn’t even begin to give justice to what I was feeling. Meq is trying to talk to him as well. This man, the immigration officer, is trying to provoke me. I really tried to keep my cool, stay calm, and apologize for not renewing my visa. All I could think about was the fact that I’m time zones and many plane rides away from home and my mom. I wanted so bad to call her, to cry to her, but didn’t want to upset her and really wanted to just be the grown ass woman that I am. Okay, what now? After he continued to make insults at me, talk about me to my face, and give me some jargon about immigration, he tells his (drunk) friend to declare me.

This process was interesting.

The drunkard is reading some sheet to me out loud (he’s slurring his reading as I’m speedily almost done with it), and it’s saying I have to leave the country immediately because I’m an illegal immigrant. Basically, the bastards were ‘letting me go’ to Malawi. Re-entry is not a problem, since I have 3 years multiple entry to Zambia. But before I go, I have to give them some money.

Meq and I are whispering. He asks me how much money I have. I tell him about K800,000. I brought extra money with me “just in case” I needed it. Well if ever I needed it, it was now. I couldn’t lie about how much money I was carrying; well, for obvious reasons, and well…I just don’t do that. So the guy, apparently developing a soft heart all of a sudden, says ‘Just give me K500,000’.

Gee, thanks. That’s most of the money I came with, but at least I’m going to be let go.

They give me a receipt. It’s all over.

And then, I break down. I started crying, for the first time of the evening, profusely! The men start saying, don’t cry, you are welcome in Zambia anytime. Everything is okay.

F’in bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, I’m sorry I forgot to renew my Visa Mr. Immigration Officer. Please forgive me.
And thank you for your mercy.

My new homegirls had been waiting outside, praying for me, they tell me. They could have left, but they didn’t.

My four angels, as I called them afterwards, helped me so much. The girls and my buddies actually waited there with me at the border, helping me, and ensuring that I got picked up in Lilongwe once we arrived. (We ended up getting a free lift). That was dope. Everything else fell in to place. But it’s really as if God worked it out so I waited in Chipata with those girls, for those guys, so that we could all be in that office at the same time.

If I had been alone, who knows what would have happened.

I so didn’t mean to disrespect Zambia and its laws. I honestly, sincerely, wholeheartedly, forgot, this time. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had to renew a Visa!

Thank you Flora, June, Ahmed, and Meq. My heroes!!!!

P.S. My stay in Malawi was soooo amazing. Sangwani’s family did so many nice things for me. It ended up being a wonderful trip, with amazing company, and beautiful scenery. Now that I am safely back in Lusaka, I can look back and laugh. Sigh. And give thanks.

P.S.S. Today, I received my permit from work. Ha!

And so it is.

zambia entry 1

2008-01-07T09:32:00.000-08:00

july 2006

okay, so i've been working and living in zambia for three weeks, and i know you have all been patiently waiting on the edge of your car seats (and subway slots) for the update-o-rama of me.in.lusaka. well, maybe not, but I guess my ego really wants you all to care oh so much about my life here and the work I’m doing. wait, some of you have in fact asked, so…

zambia feels like my home. not just saying that to sound sappy, but i feel quite comfortable here. i think that's being echoed more loudly since my second trip to new orleans was so unsettling, for some un-yet known reason. but here, i feel like i've been here for a long time. the folks i have been working with and meeting and living with and dancing with and befriending and helping and just talking to and building with, have really been super duper fresh (for lack of words to really convey). so kind and warm, welcoming, and just down right down. lusaka itself is beautiful with the most amazing trees. It’s also slightly modern compared to other capitol's on the continent, but it's not pretentious and completely lost to western elements. though, the elements are there, and they of course, annoy me. they claim it to be ‘the most expensive capitol on the continent’…it IS quite expensive though. The currency is ‘kwacha’; one dollar for about 3400 kwacha. So, I’m a millionaire, but it doesn’t mean much. One meal can be 25,000 kwacha. ‘that will be 25,000 please’. J and so, the thousands go rapidly. But drive a little bit and you will see that money is non-existent almost. it’s like a fusion of Africa and Europe, co-existing together, with the African element shining through in regards to respect, kindness, appropriateness, language, tradition, music, clothing, food, pride, self-love, family, and the likes. But the other (European) influence is prevalent too. A negative one, such as the South Africa apartheid conquer and divide tactic of calling lighter-skinned black people ‘colored’, is deep. And of course the attempt to mimic western culture, with the weaves, suits, etc. what can ya do though? For the most part though, folks are proud to be Zambian, and that is what is the MOST beautiful. Everyone wants to make sure I’ve had the food, seen the falls, heard the music (which I loooove), learn the language, and just know everything about the culture!

I'm in love with the peace and serenity in this country. it's quiet; louder when it needs to be (gatherings, social engagements, outdoor markets, etc.). don’t get it twisted, its more congested in certain areas, but it’s not super overbearing. i've been in this type of setting a few times before, but everytime i'm back, i'm RE-humbled, checked, and i just slow down. it's so necessary for the soul. today we drove to some of the rural areas to check on the schools/feeding programs we are working on for these orphans (more on that later!), and i just welcomed the calm of nature. i'm not at all touristy, and never ever exoticize a country, but i do have appreciation for the beauty that is here. ahhh, the beauty. Beauty juxtaposed against poverty. The further you go from center of the city, the more you see the shantytown compounds, where folks are scraping for food and living in makeshift home structures, using latrines made of straw and living without constant flow of water and electricity. Re-checked, again. But even though folks are struggling and poor, Zambians boast how their country is ‘more peaceful than some of its neighbors’, seeing as how too many countries on the continent are at war; with themselves. L ‘it is how we were raised’, says one of my friends , to treat each other kindly. Seriously, I peep this. People really try to avoid conflict and really show each other love, even in everyday interactions. It’s humanity as it SHOULD be!

it's clear that i'm not from here (due to the stares and whispers that surface from time to time), but most people see me as an ethiopian, meaning, i'm their african sister! other folks think i'm brazilian. A few thought I was Zambian (sooo cool, eh?). Someone said phillipino one time. I like to make people guess (as I do in the states) and love to hear the responses: “well I see like east Africa, like you know, Somalia, Eritrea, Ethiopia, or I see south American, you know like brazil or blahblah, or maybe some asian something or other”… either way, when they hear me talk...then it's all over. i've tried to pretend to have an accent sometimes, just so people aren't looking at me, trying to figure out why I look one way but sound another. I know, I’m crazy. So once I clarify and say, yes my dad is Ethiopian and my mom is African-american they say, ‘oh so your mom is American?’ NO, I insist. It is important (to me at least) for the African to be added to American. American is oft associated with white, and well…I’m quite not that, so I shut that down quick. and on that note, I’ll change the subject. Those conversations actually extend much further, but no need for that here………….heat! I've had to also do some extensive knowledge dropping on my african-american side though, and just the plight of black folk in 'the states'. many misperceptions prevail about how people live and there's a lot of unawareness about the inequalities and poverty that exist. then i realized, sooo many misperceptions also prevail about how people live on the continent (like people would be shocked to know that everyone in the city has a cell phone), and i do the same educating back in the states. *sigh*...the cycle. but i've realized how proud (and defensive) i am of both cultures that are in my blood. both very thick, rich, strong, and sexy cultures. Both misrepresented, but deserving of their true elements being exposed, and so I’ve had many convos doing just that. Letting folks KNOW! They appreciate it though, because the videos and the musicians and the sports players and actors don’t represent the common folk and everyday people in the states, na mean? And the government certainly doesn’t represent the desires and opinions and best interest of the people in america. And people on the continent are not all living in huts, surrounded by elephants, and starving. ARGH! I must give big ups to the black musicians in America though. Its so beautiful how good, positive, soulful music reaches all parts of the world. It connects us, whether we realize it or not. I’ve had so many conversations about our music, from marvin, stevie, luther, and anita to Lauryn, India, d’angelo’ and common. And everyone wants some of my itune goodies. There is one POSITIVE element of the culture that stands true. Yea for black people!

before I get to explaining my work, a few facts::

factual tidbit # 1: the name selome is so common here, it's spooky! i know the name is not only found in Ethiopia and eritrea. you can also find it at your nearest south american country, in france, in the bible, and now, in ZAMBIA! swear, everyday like one person says 'oh my, i have a cousin (sister, mother, friend) with that name', only spelled with an A. go on and figure THAT one.

factual tidbit # 2: 72 languages are spoken here in zambia. seventy two. i'm amazed at how people can tell right away which one a person speaks, and can decipher what province or village or town that person comes from. the two main ones bemba and nyanja, are spoken by many people. i've learned a few words thanks to my super great co-workers. yea, ask me in august and let's hope i've retained some! It’s funny to see how people intertwine nyanja or bemba with English. Kinda like spanglish, in a sense. But I’m so happy (and relieved) to hear the ‘local languages’ spoken more than English. Well, because, this is Africa after all, and that’s the imported (um, imposed) language. Yea!

Factual tidbit # 3: they really refer to zambia as ‘the real africa’. I wondered if it was another way that Europeans over-dramatized the ‘riches’ of Africa. Still kinda wondering, as no one told me where that phrase came from yet. the real Africa. Why? Because there are a plethora of animals and species here, and you know, the safari’s that attracts a certain population year-round. Seriously, the landscape is beautiful. And I’m going to Victoria falls this weekend. Oooweeeeeee papi! For those that don’t know, that’s an amaaaaazingly gorgeous and humungous waterfall that is in both Zimbabwe and Zambia. After machupicchu in peru, I’d name it the other 8th wonder. Wait, after stevie. 9th.

Factual tidbit # 4: zambia is bordered by seven countries! Okay, or it is 6? Well, either way, I was gonna go to Zimbabwe (didn’t work out) and I’m still planning to at least go to Malawi to visit my friends family. then there’s talks of Tanzania. Oooh Angola would be nice. ideally, Selome would like to hit up all of them, but…well, economically that won’t fly at the moment! (the others are: Congo, Botswana, Mozambique, and Namibia).

Factual tidbit # 5: I have a family member here! LOL! how crazy. damn ethiopians. related to every OTHER ethiopian. the owner of 'the ethiopian restaurant' is a relative. ummmm, okay. that had to be one of the best pieces for my memoirs. i'm like, how am i going to go to a country and have a relative, a relative that other relatives didn't know were here!!!! ahhhh, how exciting. now i have an 'aunt' in zambia. yeeehaw!!

Factual tidbit # 6: it’s winter time here and some days I’m just like, okay, didn’t I just go through a new york winter?!?! It’s too damn cold! Some days are so beautiful though, just sun and a slight breeze. Maybe this will let more folks know that Africa isn’t always hot, everywhere. I try and tell ‘em…

Factual tidbit # 7: cars drive in the European style, on the ‘opposite’ side. I’ve gotten used to it, but at first, I’m sitting in the passenger side (what would be the driver’s side in the US) and I’m feeling like I should be steering. J

Factual tidbit # 8: the food has been good and there are all kinds of restaurants, from Indian food to Chinese to pizza to fried chicken (“hungry lion” and “zamchick”) to hamburgers to Ethiopian to Zambian. Zambian food itself is eaten with the hands (like Ethiopian food) with a staple food called nshima, a white hard grits-like dough made from maize and grain. It’s kinda bland but you use it to pick up the other foods, like fish or chicken and cabbage with a sauce. And, I have like 4 cups of tea a day. (eeeek).

Factual tidbit # 9: there is a street called los angeles, right near a street called addis ababa. Both of these cities represent where each of my parents grew up. (just a random piece of information)

Factual tidbit #10: most people don’t have internet access at home, even in the super nice homes. Most people email and stuff at work.

Factual tidbit #11: there has been a recent malaria outbreak! Three people at work have contracted it. I slept with the bednet for two nights, then we decided since it’s ‘winter’, mosquitoes aren’t around. Not true though. I heard one buzzing in my ear one night and had to put the smack down and smack that thing down! Eek, scary.

Factual tidbit # 12 (last one, seriously): you can smoke indoors at public places! Yuckers.

My social life here, parallel to that in new york/los angeles, is quite activated! i have bonded with many people already, and people from all over, and we be hangin tough. it's like some of these folks i swear i knew in another life. They my fam for real. having a cell phone is essential in lusaka (or you are cut off from all forms of socializing. Trust me, I know since my cell phone got stolen and I was without for two days)...so, the cell phone connects and re-re-connects you to everyone. yea, exactly like in 'the states'. doy, this IS 2006 anyway, na mean? Instead of text messaging tho, you say ‘SMS me’. and to add ‘talk time’ to your cell phone, you say ‘I have to top up’. ‘topping up’, by the way, is damn costly I tell ya. so i have folks that i hang with and have bonded with like crazy! (okay, well not that crazy...). as we all know, i love people. they really are my 'high'...that, and helping them. i been having mad fun though. winning dance contests (literally!!) and all. that story is crazy funny, but you know, I was just minding my business dancing my tail off with friends at a little club and whatdoyaknow? I won a contest! Lol... (another one for the memoirs).

My living situation is dope. We (my roomie and I (she is bolivian…yay!)) live in a guest house/little cottage on a huge piece of land in lusaka where a zambian family has a home. our little house is so cool (except for the damn baby tarantula-looking spiders and the fact that we have to call the family to open the gate for us late at night since they don’t have a guard. boooooo). Our house is two-bedroom (I have my own room) with kitchen, bathroom and living room. the younger girls in the home have become our little homies though! They don’t get out much (culturally, many girls don’t get to go out on their own until they are over 21 or in college or out of the house), so they come over and visit with us, or I ask their mom/aunt if they can come out with us some times. They are so sweet and I don’t like that they are always bored! We have to give them our laundry to do (which is hard for me having been used to doing my own laundry my whole life—I do my own undies though J) and we give them some money. In the end it’s all good, since they don’t get much money otherwise. We had a surprise party for one of them the other day in our house. They are just too precious! The house has a HUGE lot, with a beauuuutiful garden. Most homes in Lusaka have a large wall and gate, secluding it from the outside. Lots of people have guards, and you have to ‘hoot’ in order for them to open up the gate. Saying the word honk is like saying a word in a different language.

The work and the organization:
Similar to many Sub-Saharan African countries, Zambia is quite impoverished in its shantytown communities and rural areas, with many people being just down right poor and struggling to get by. but the country’s main problem is hiv/aids. They say 75% of the households here have an orphan in them. The organization I work with is an international NGO that does an amazing job working to develop the capacity of local organizations and systems in regards to HIV care, food rations and orphans support. My office is 98% Zambian, which was a necessity for me. I can’t operate in an environment with people from outside trying to tell people inside what to do. So, it works for me. and the people at my office; I think they are the best group of people I’ve ever worked with. I’m not just saying that because I’m here. I truly think they are amazing!! It’s so fun to be around them and even greater to work with them! Awww, sap sap. I work in a program that works directly with different local entities (community organizations, home-based care facilities, and open community schools) that provide services for OVC (orphans and vulnerable children). The organization provides support and capacity development for these local groups. It’s so fresh and I’m actually doing like 6 different things. From going on visits and helping to monitor schools and feeding programs we support to doing case studies on the beneficiaries to writing profiles of some of the schools and organizations, to helping to plan and support and re-energize the youth anti-aids clubs activities at the schools, to helping develop a database to helping to plan activities with hiv/aids organizations to taking photographs and writing stories to planning meetings and more more more. It’s all so amazing, and it’s made even more amazing when every person is Zambian that’s making the decisions (well my boss is Kenyan, but everyone ELSE!). I think folks that know me and know the passion I have for people doing things for themselves, will totally get why that even matters. It makes me feel warm and cozy!!!! Seriously. The way we all get around is by the drivers in the organization, who I spend lots of time with since I’m out and about. They are so fresh, I love them dearly. J

Two of the orphans (double orphans-both parents died from AIDS) I have been working with are in really extreme situations and they are also the head of their households, caring for themselves, their siblings, and a grandparent. They have very little, so I came out my pocket to buy them shoes and some clothes. This is what they asked for. They are getting a meal at school but at home, they still have very little and their home environment is very rough. I’m trying to start a fundraiser for these two girls, since they both touched my heart sooooo much. Their stories are long and personal and just too sad for me to share, but trust me, they are welcoming anything they can get. Look out. It’s coming.

And so, after this lengthy entry, I must sum up by saying, I am truly happy. I feel like myself again. I feel like I could live here. Everyone is trying to get me to. Ooooh.

Just received an SMS. The End. :)

Please, State Your Purpose

2008-01-07T09:14:00.000-08:00

As time goes on, I find myself to be quite jaded with the humanitarian field. I'm starting to critically question these notions of 'aid' and 'development'. In my heart, my goal is to heal, empower, and support. They seem to be more concerned with perpetuating dependency, placing a band-aid on the wounds, and pimping populations. If we sit down for a minute, much of this will become quite a puzzle; yet make so much sense.

What is the true intention? If the purpose is to really solve problems, then why in the world are people worse off than they were ten years ago? Please explain to me why famine occurs year after year in certain regional pockets. Why more people have AIDS than ever before. Why more children are malnourished. Why more foreign government-supported civil wars exist. Why people are becoming more impoverished and dependent on outsiders than ever before. Why the maternal mortality rate in 'southern countries' continues to skyrocket. Riddle me this. All of this. Not just some. I need to understand your purpose. Your true intent. What, with all of your 'experts' and 'paradigms' and 'discourse' and conferences, you'd think that somewhere along the line, changes would have been made. You would think that the 'lessons learned' would be applied so that the same mistakes aren't continually made. You would think, if you really wanted to eradicate certain diseases or alleviate mass suffering, that with all of your know-how and money and degrees, things would actually be improving. Instead, we have an influx of NGO's in Sudan, the DRC, Colombia, Pakistan, Afghanistan, (insert your 'focus' country here), who are basically bumping into each other 'in the field', clearly not making any effective or lasting changes. I am speaking to you, the big multi/bi-lateral agencies who claim to be concerned with human beings. Who spit facts and shower us with devastating one-dimensional non-representative photographs. I'm speaking to you, who perhaps couldn't be more disconnected from the populations you are 'helping'. You see, I wonder if your purpose is to really see people help themselves. Or if your underlying agenda is to take them by the hand, and never let go.

Self-determination is a must, the world over. But it's a struggle when you are operating within a world system that would love to see people in poverty remain there. They control much more than people are aware of. Our brothers and sisters lives lay in their palms. In many, twisted ways.

War Talk: Come September

2008-01-06T16:20:00.000-08:00

From the book War Talk “Come September”, by Arundhati Roy

“To fuel yet another war-this time against Iraq-by cynically manipulating people’s grief, by packaging it for TC specials sponsored by corporations selling detergent of running shoes, is to cheapen and devalue grief, to drain it of meaning”

“Last year, like many others, I too made the mistake of scoffing at the post-September 11th rhetoric, dismissing it as foolish and arrogant. I’ve realized that it’s not foolish at all. It’s actually a canny recruitment drive for a misconceived, dangerous war. Now that the initial aim of the war-capturing Osama bin Laden (dead or alive)-seems to have run into bad weather, the goalposts have been moved. It’s being made out that the whole point of the war was to topple the Taliban regime and liberate Afghan women from their burqas. Were being asked to believe that the U.S. marines are actually on a feminist mission.”

“Young Palestinians who cannot contain their anger turn themselves into human bombs and haunt Israel’s streets and public places, blowing themselves up, killing ordinary people, injecting terror into daily life, and eventually hardening both societies’ suspicion and mutual hatred of each other. Each bombing invites merciless repisals and even more hardship on Palestinian people. But then suicide bombing is an act of individual despair, not a revolutionary tactic. Although Palestinian attacks strike terror into Israeli civilians, they provide the perfect cover for the Israeli government’s daily incursions into Palestinian territory, the perfect excuse for old-fashioned, nineteenth-century colonialism, dressed up as a new-fashioned, twenty-first century war.”“Israel’s staunchest political and military ally is and always has been the U.S. government.”

“Weapons instructors have conflicting reports about the status of Iraq’s “weapons of mass destruction”, and many have said clearly that its arsenal has been dismantled and that it does not have the capacity to build one. However, there is no confusion over the extent and range of America’s arsenal of nuclear and chemical weapons. Would the U.S. government welcome weapons inspections? Would the U.K.? Israel? What if Iraq does have a nuclear weapon, does that justify a preemptive U.S. strike? The United States has the largest arsenal of nuclear weapons in the world. It’s the only country in the world to have actually used them on civilian populations. If the United States is justified in launching a preemptive attack on Ira, why then any nuclear power is justified in carrying out a preemptive attack on any other.”

“The United States, which George Bush calls “a peaceful nation”, has been at war with one country or another every year for the last fifty years”

Spiritual Love

2008-01-06T08:54:00.000-08:00

Spiritual Love

It's true
The universe does conspire in your favor
To manifest gold for royalty

How does one wearing a crown labeled wordsmith find it difficult to put adjectives and verbs together to illustrate an emotion? Perhaps it is because the emotions are vibrating at a frequency that is beyond the limitations of her vocabulary.

I'm in this dimension, in this sphere, here, with you, and I can only kiss the sun in eternal gratitude and be humbled by your love. There, inside of me, sat a secret seed of yearning for a partner who was my reflection, and my friend. There were a few different branches that appeared in my life, disguised as the truth.

But none of it ever tasted like this…

I am smiling now at the thought of me waiting patiently for this partner to be revealed.

I sat still on those thoughts, on that seed, and spoke to you long ago, letting you know that while you were refining yourself, I was also doing the same. And that when we were both ready, we would meet.

Did you hear me when I spoke to you then?

I can see my reflection in you. I can.

I see things; things that could change the retrograde of the Earth's axis- if we let it. A gypsy has many sessions of visioning over her lifetime. But in the dimension of partnership, my visions have never been clearer than they are now.

With each minute, I'm thrown further into this quest of dedication to manifesting the most perfect, harmonious union that humanity has ever known. It is coming, unfolding, with such grace and fluidity that I have no choice but to embrace it with the power that is love.

My heart told my mind that what she is being told is also in lined with her emotional needs.
My mind told my heart that what the heart feels, makes sense to her.

Of all the blessings in this life, unveiling the spiritual dimensions of a love's light in flight, has to be one of the purest expressions of God. Discovering and delivering one's purpose to oneself and to the world is indeed enhanced when someone is next to you, supporting your moves, inspiring your mind, and catching you should you feel weak.

As if time was never even invented, we have experienced some of the most sacred and tender moments my heart, spirit, and body have ever known. I've known you for a long, long time, and have been in your spirit's presence for even longer. It is clear to me as we do this dance that we're performing a piece that we choreographed many moons ago. It is why there is such ease and grace in everything we do.

Feeling safe is one of the most comfortable feelings one can experience in the presence of another human being. This is what I feel when I'm with you, knowing that it is ok to be unabashedly myself; knowing that my "self" gets along so easily with yours.

Your generosity, kind heart, and thoughtfulness keep blowing my mind. It's like you are the result of a design I concocted called: "Selome's Perfect Mate". You give so effortlessly. And perhaps I'm in awe because I'm used to being the giver, always wanting to take care of everything and everyone else, not allowing myself to be truly cared for.

I feel cared for now.

I am thankful for your dedication to fulfilling purpose, and for helping me flush out my own. I am inspired beyond anything I could have imagined, and I'm feeling truly blessed. Truly humbled. Truly moved.

True.

There may be some things I've forgotten along my path as a spiritual being, but know that it all lives in me, and it's all on the tip of every move I make, every word I say, and every time I look at you. I'm learning to invoke those principles that were ingrained in me so long ago, yet somehow released from my grasp. I'm trying to become more focused on calling them back in and practicing them, always.

I ask that as I ride through this, you hold my hand. I ask that you understand that some things are going to take some time, but know this: they will happen.

Thank you for your patience on my personal healing journey. I have never been with someone who was so intensely concerned and determined to help me as I heal. For this, I truly cannot show enough appreciation. It is indeed a sacred journey for us to share together. I'm so happy it's going to be you who I let in all the way.

As I'm writing this, I'm reminded of an important lesson that recently visited me again. There are times when using words diminishes the meaning of something. When I am not able to convey an emotion, a request, a thought, or a desire, know that I will show you, or move in such a way that will deliver the message to you in some form.

This passes human understanding, but since we speak the same language, you will understand what I am saying.

If not now, in time.

I am experiencing love like I never have before.

I believe I am receiving from you all the love that I have ever put out into the universe.

We are kindred.

I am internally (eternally) grateful.

I lovingly let it be.

And so it is. Amen.

Love

The African Diaspora in the United States of Africa

2008-01-05T20:49:00.000-08:00

*Published in United States of Africa: African Perspectives, Pambazuka
June, 2007

“An African, therefore…is one who by accident of history and the reality of geography is wedded to the African continent. A leading advocate of this concept was Kwame Nkrumah” – Professor Godfrey N. Uzoigwe

The current sea of summits and articles about the proposed “United States of Africa” has raised numerous discussions in regards to its challenges and necessity. While these discussions are imperative, it is also essential to continue to address another key element: The African Diaspora’s involvement in the process. As we descend on the next phase of the African Union’s (AU) summits in Ghana, critical analysis of the African Diaspora’s meaningful contribution must be integrated from here forward.

The African Diaspora are people of African descent who live outside continental Africa, having been dispersed around the world through colonialism, the transatlantic slave trade or voluntary migration. The AU has defined the African Diaspora as “[consisting] of people of African origin living outside the continent, irrespective of their citizenship and nationality and who are willing to contribute to the development of the continent and the building of the African Union. ”
Though the AU proclaims the importance of the African Diaspora’s contribution, the minimal presence of the Diaspora in the United States of Africa decision-making bodies sparks the question: Is the United States of Africa being proposed only for those living in the African states or does it extend to those in the Diaspora as well? Does this unification really include the contribution of all African people who are willing to participate?

The answer to these questions could potentially be the catalyst to revive the once active plea for Pan-Africanism. More than unifying the fifty-four states of the African continent, it could serve as the mechanism to facilitate unity and solidarity amongst a people who are dispersed throughout the world, yet still connected by their history, ancestry, and bloodlines.

Though it has been adopted and embraced by African state leaders, the notion of a United Africa has always resonated with Africans in the Diaspora. The concept of a “United States of Africa” in fact was originated by Jamaican-born leader and activist Marcus Garvey. He first used the phrase in 1924 to call for the unity of Africans collectively fighting for human rights, resisting racism and exploitation in all parts of the world. Garvey’s teachings helped to shape the Pan-African movement, a movement formed in part with the intent to bridge the Diaspora with its homeland. The Pan-African movement was also influenced by a United States-born African, W.E.B. Du Bois.

Professor and author Godfrey N. Uziokwe defines Pan-Africanism as “a political movement initiated by peoples of African descent in the Americas, and later taken over by continental Africans, which aims to liberate all Africans and people of African descent from the shackles of political, economic, cultural, and intellectual domination”1. Ghanaian president and activist Dr. Kwame Nkrumah and other leaders from the continent later adopted the Pan-African movement, expanding it to include the decolonization of the African continent politically. At the first Pan-African Congress to occur in Africa in 1958, Dr. Nkrumah acknowledged the extraordinary contribution of people of African origin in the Diaspora to Pan-Africanism:

“…..Many of them have made no small contribution to the cause of African freedom. Names which spring immediately to mind in this connection are those of Marcus Garvey, and W.E.B. DuBois. Long before many of us were even conscious of our own degradation, these men fought for African national and racial equality” .

The Pan-African movement solidified the need for global solidarity of people of African descent to defend their human rights. Inspired by the Diasporic Pan African Movement, Dr. Nkrumah, Haile Selassie, and others, formed The Organization of African Unity (OAU) in 1963 in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. However, though the initial Pan-African movement included Africans in the Diaspora, the OAU began to focus more on continental concerns and did not develop a specific role for people of the African Diaspora. “While the OAU helped speed the independence of African nations, it did not reach out to the African Diaspora in a meaningful way” . This was first seen during the early stages of the OAU, where members of the Diaspora were largely absent from the Pan-African meetings.

The OAU transitioned into the AU in 2001, and during this time, “it began the long-awaited outreach to the African Diaspora”4. The AU verbally recognized the Diaspora as the “6th region of Africa”, adding it to the other 5 geographical regions on the continent. Article 3 (q) of the Amendments to the AU’s Constitutive Act states that it shall “invite and encourage the full participation of the African Diaspora as an important part of our Continent, in the building of the African Union” . One of these attempts included the creation of the Diaspora Initiative within the framework of the OAU, created in 2003 to connect people of spiritual and ancestral kinship to one another through various mechanisms. In 2006, the AU’s 6th Region Education Campaign also partnered with the Western Hemisphere Education Campaign (WHADN) in an initiative to serve as the “interface mechanism” that linked the Diaspora with the AU.

However, while the Diaspora has been invited to conferences and summits, sometimes to merely “observe”, their role in making decisions within the AU appears to still be minimal. The full participation of the Diaspora in the development of the United States of Africa has yet to be conceptualized and there is currently no policy to facilitate the involvement of the Diaspora in the process. In addition, although the AU’s Constitutive Act states that it will include the Diaspora in its processes, there have been no written policy changes. “Examination of the Amendment, Article “q” to the Constitutive Act of the African Union reveals, however, that no such “significant structural change” has occurred, stated Professor Maurice Tadadjeu in a recent address to Repatriation News . This is illustrated through the Diaspora’s inability to join or take part in an important governmental body in Africa, the Pan-African Parliament (PAP). The Diaspora currently does not take part in any deliberations. The PAP states that it represents all people’s of Africa, yet its objectives focus solely on Africans living on the continent and make no mention of the African Diaspora’s inclusion in or benefit from these objectives. Full participation of the Diaspora within the AU would mean the Diaspora having seats within the PAP. An example of how this could be facilitated is by developing a joint body between the AU and a governmental body in the Diaspora. A policy report entitled “Building an African Union” suggests that “Existing institutions and organizations in the Diaspora should be integrated with the AU. A pan- African parliamentary union between the PAP and the US Congressional Black Caucus (CBC) would be one such Innovation”. (2)

An attempt at including the voice of all African peoples (the Diaspora) in the AU’s decision-making process was with the creation of the Economic, Social and Cultural Council of the African Union (ECOSOCC) in 2002. The ECOSOCC is to serve as a consultative body and is working to bring together civil society groups, including some from the Diaspora, to work with the AU. In regards to the United States of Africa, this body is intended to serve as a consultancy at assembly deliberations. Diasporic “representation” and decision-making within the ECOSOCC, however, doesn’t equate to the Diaspora having decision-making power within the AU or its United States of Africa government. However, the ECOSOCC claims that this consultative body will play an active role in partnership with African governments to “contribute to the principles, policies and programs of the Union”. Dr. Tajudeen Abdul-Raheem, General-Secretary of the Pan-African Movement in Kampala Uganda and Co-Director of Justice Africa, however, believes that the Diaspora’s role is not quite as active as it appears. He states, “Even at the launch of the General Assembly (of the ECOSOCC) the few Diaspora persons there were mere observers .”

Mutually Beneficial Relationship and Solidarity

The call for the African Diaspora’s full participation in the formation of a United Africa may cause some to wonder, why is the Diaspora’s full participation important and who would benefit from such a relationship?The theme of a proposed global summit in South Africa focusing on the unity of Africa and the Diaspora provides an overall response to this inquiry. Entitled “Towards the Realization of a United and Integrated Africa and its Diaspora”, this summit will aim at producing “a shared vision of sustainable development for both the African continent and the millions of people around the world who share an African heritage” . The participants of this summit are calling for a global dialogue regarding regional development and integration, economic co-operation, and historical, socio-cultural and religious commonalities.

There are over 150 million people in the Diaspora who not only could play a role in strengthening Africa’s development and attempt at unification, but who could also greatly benefit from a united Africa. In essence, a mutually beneficial relationship would result from the Diaspora taking part in the development of a United States of Africa. Revived Pan-African solidarity between Africa and the Diaspora would create partnerships needed to address issues of global concern and provide mutual support as both groups are still weaning off the impact that western imperialism had (and still has) on both. If the Diaspora and the African’s living on the continent joined forces with consistent cross-continental relations, support, and inclusion, it could strengthen the entire African presence and power in the world. Empowering Africans both at home and abroad is essential in order to address the inequities and imbalances that continue to bond us by our collective experience of oppression. Through building mutual solidarity, networking, and mobilization, both continental and Diasporic Africans would gain strength.

According to the Diaspora Initiative within the framework of the AU, the Diaspora can be of great benefit to the AU through:

• Technical support for programs of the African Union
• Public education and sensitization of the wider public in their respective regions
• Lobbying
• Provision of a domestic political constituency for AU goals and objectives
• Advocacy
• Fund raising and resource mobilization
• Resource support through such measures as creation of Endowments amongst others

As this initiative reflects, the benefit that Africans in the Diaspora could bring to the United States of Africa is multi-layered. Collectively they posses an economic power that could greatly assist African economic development initiatives and assist in the continents struggle to break from the shackles of structural adjustment programs, globalization, and “debts”. The power that the Diaspora holds could also knock out the devastating chokehold that international NGO’s have over continental crises. Due to proportionately more access to resources, there is a wealth of financial, technical and intellectual expertise in the Diaspora. The amount of resources and education that African’s in the Diaspora have access to could surely help to strengthen the continental quest at unity, provide support for other concerns affecting Africans on the continent, as well as developing Africa’s human resource capacity. “The African Diaspora can play a part in enhancing Africa’s role in the world by promoting the development of the continent. A genuine engagement by the AU with the Diaspora could enhance Africa’s negotiating and resource mobilization capacity with the international community”2.

However, on the reciprocal end, the AU could also greatly assist in the struggle of African people’s globally. At the Pan-African Congress in 1958, Dr. Nkrumah recognized Africa’s unity as being crucial for the human rights of Africans in the Diaspora to be respected.

“Long may the links between Africa and the peoples of African descent continue to hold us together in fraternity. Now that we in Africa are marching towards the complete emancipation of this Continent, our independent status will help in no small measure their efforts to attain full human rights and human dignity as citizens of their country.”

According to the Diaspora Initiative, the AU can offer the Diaspora:

• A measure of credible involvement in the policy making processes
• Some corresponding level of representation
• Symbolic identifications
• Requirements of dual or honorary citizenship of some sort
• Moral and political support of Diaspora initiatives in their respective regions
• Preferential treatment in access to African economic undertakings including consultancies, trade preferences and benefits for entrepreneurs, vis a vis non –Africans
• Social and political recognition as evident in invitation to Summits and important meetings etc.9

The United African governmental body could also show solidarity and provide support for the many injustices being inflicted on people of African descent throughout the Diaspora. This includes places like Brazil, the United States of America, Haiti, France and elsewhere, where people of African descent are suffering from human rights violations exponentially by imperialist governments.

Speaking from the experience of an African living in the United States of America, we have repeatedly found ourselves victims of human rights violations and racist oppression by this government since we arrived here. We are not supported, respected, or represented by this government and have been mistreated by the government itself. Examples of this include the continuous unjust murders of African peoples by the state police departments as well as the gross injustices against African people that preceded and followed Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

Although there have been governments and leaders in Africa who have fully acknowledged the injustices that are occurring in America and elsewhere, being a part of an African government would strengthen the Diaspora’s continual struggle for justice. If Africans in America were a part of the United States of Africa government, they could possibly have a mechanism of support to hold the United States government accountable for the violations they inflict on people of African descent. Africans throughout the Diaspora could have a connection to a universal African government that advocates for drastic changes to be made in regards to the global mistreatment of people of African descent. In other words, Africans in the Diaspora would have a government that they feel a part of, instead of one they are in constant combat with.

Just One Struggle

Proclamations about the African Diaspora’s right to play a crucial role in the development of a United States of Africa also call for an all-inclusive definition of what it means to be African.

Whether you identify as African, Black, being of African origin or descent, African-American, Caribbean, Afro-Latino, New Afrikan, or an African living abroad, one common trait holds true: we are all bound by our origination from and lasting connection to the same land. The African world is bigger than the territory and borders of the continent. It spans the entire globe, and includes our presence on all seven continents. The linguistic, geographic, and cultural differences amongst us can’t negate the reality that we are brothers and sisters. Separated by force, we’ve clearly been fragmented in a myriad of ways. But beyond the borders and boundaries, throwing away visas and passports, sidestepping our lack of common languages, combating the cowardly European divide and conquer techniques, and underneath any perceived differences, we are yet roots from the same tree. This attempted disjointing and cultural destabilization should not be the excuse for not supporting one another’s struggles for emancipation and freedom. In this case, realized Pan-African unity could be our channel to justice on the continent and abroad.

This common ancestry has made our universal struggles and resistance against oppression one in the same. Human rights activist and Pan-Africanist El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz (Malcolm X) stated in his address at the OAU summit in Cairo, Egypt in 1964, “We in America (and elsewhere) are your long-lost brothers and sisters, and I am here only to remind you that our problems are your problems”10. He also added, “Since the 22 million of us were originally Africans, who are now in America, not by choice but only by a cruel accident in our history, we strongly believe that African problems are our problems and our problems are African problems”10. More than being bonded by our common African descent, Pan-Africanism was born out of this collective bond to resist these “powers” in solidarity, hoping to strengthen our calls for justice and accountability. Shackled by European states and scrambling for civil rights, the only true difference in our struggle is geographic location.

We (African’s globally) are all continuing to endure various forms of oppression and atrocities inflicted on us directly, indirectly, institutionally, economically, and even under the guise of “humanitarian assistance” and development projects. Whether we live in the United States, Europe, the Caribbean, or Africa, African peoples have been subjected to imperialist policies that have undermined our worth, dehumanized our souls and attempted to keep us enslaved under capitalism.

The Diaspora Initiative also recognizes this common African struggle:

“Indeed, the activities and challenges of both continental Africans and Africans in Diaspora continued to impact upon each other, with history as a common reference point. Those transported across the Atlantic began as second-class citizens in their new abode just as the establishment of the colonial order of the African continent relegated their brothers to the same status on the continent. Hence, the quest for freedom and social emancipation became a shared concern. Africans on both sides of the Atlantic divide felt the impact of vestigial discrimination in the aftermath of the abolition of the Slave Trade and the onset of the twentieth century.9”

And so, if Africans in the Diaspora are truly embraced as being African and if the African struggles globally are acknowledged as being one in the same, their inclusion in the development of a United States of Africa should be automatic, clearly defined, and truly participatory, and move beyond observer status.While there have been attempts over the last six years to include the Diaspora in discussions pertaining to the African Union, a stronger presence in the United States of Africa must be actualized and written policy on the reciprocal relationship must be created.

Africa unite!

I wonder...

2008-01-05T19:08:00.000-08:00

::::::Some wonderings as I take a break from working::::::

I wonder why the heck the leaves for bananas trees are soooooo big, yet bananas come out so tiny? I remember seeing the largest ones I’ve ever seen, in Ecuador, and thinking, ‘those leaves are as big as a house!’. (From a recent conversation with a gardener friend here in Zambia).

I cooked last night. I wonder why I don’t do that more often? (Okay, I know why)

I wonder how my dad is (really) doing now that he moved back to his home country after thirty years. (Hopefully I will soon see for myself)

I wonder, if I needed some shoes and food, would someone make an effort to help me too?

I wonder how music can lift, lower, and sustain a person (or group’s) mood.

I’d say as humans, most of us have some sort of compassion, emotion, or sympathy for other fellow humans. Or, do we? I’m starting to wonder about certain individuals roaming the planet. I wake up these days and just search and search for the answers to this riddle we know as a violence-ridden society, with greedy monkeys thirsty for civilian blood. On a cold, lonely night, I wonder what happens to their conscience. I wonder why I wonder so much about such wonderings. I wonder what will happen when it’s time for characters to be judged, for mercy to be had, for questions to be answered. I wonder.

On that note, I’ve just been wondering about people and their ability to be so in love with themselves. I think it’s healthy to love yourself, but some people are just soooooooo wrapped up in their own goodness it just makes you go hmmmmm. No, ewwwwww.

And why have I been so incredibly sensitive in 2006? I’m offended, I’m hurt, I’m upset, I’m sad. Away with this! It’s too soon for menopause. Much.

I wonder what happened to hoola hoops.

I wonder why I always lose socks.

I wonder what my dog thinks about everyday.

And why hasn’t the African Diaspora made more of an effort to connect with and learn about one another? Lot’s on my shoulders…lots.

I wonder where my phobia for spiders and insects stemmed from, despite my being 25 times their size.

I agree with my sis Amber, what happened to phone and in-person conversations? I wonder how humans will cope when the computers crash. (*gasp*)

And why in the world do people outside America really believe (honestly) that the people inside America, have a say-so or agree in the least bit, with the ways in which ‘their’ government is massacring populations around the planet? I mean, do they actually sit down with the presidents of their country and decide on foreign policy? (I wonder)

I wonder why certain people associate Black/Brown with dirty? (People/Culture, that is. One of the saddest things known to humankind as we know it).

How come Ms. ‘People-Person’ so desires to be by herself these days?

I wonder why I consume so much bread (and why it’s starting to SHOW)!

I wonder how the human emotional system triggers the ‘I miss you/him/her’ symptom.

I wonder why those people over there gotta look at me like that. (Just smile. Smile)

I wonder how it feels to have a little person inside my belly. (Many recent conversations with pregnant friends sparked this one).

Forget Waldo, I wonder where Maxwell and D’Angelo are.

I wonder where my concentration goes, in moments like these.

Oh! There it is.

she, her, I

2008-01-05T15:36:00.000-08:00

strange fruit. old soul. she's mystical and spiritual. quick on her toes. i challenge. she's analytical. i wanna be a writer when i grow up. been a long time comin' but she knows, a change 'gon come. energy abound. watch her dance. giving, no time for takin. i listen to my omens. if she had one wish, there'd be no wars, hunger, injustice, or racism. okay, 4. she's black on both sides, and proud, on all fronts. i love humans. she feels. trying to BE the change i wanna SEE. she connects with children. mama's her best friend. her shoulders are heavy. i am free in the spirit. she smiles. the mundane bores her. the "different" intrigues her. i'm moving with balance for her name means peace. i'm helpy helperton. she's a social butterfly but values her solitude. channels her frustrations. i'm ready to make mountains move. she's busy. i'm silly. narrow minds turn her off. she's allergic to mean people. her heart feels for humanity. i'm a lover. she's a new afrikan nubian geisha warrior and a pan-african jedi. she is what she attracts. this i know. she's living on purpose. she and i, we're one in the same. her, too. we find beauty in the little things. and speak to our ancestors. and we all say: down with all extensions of white supremacy and neo-colonialism. all hail enlightenment & empowerment. freedom within.

black power! africa unite!

the vision: a globe where the sons and daughters who trot its land, have ample [ food, water, & a chance ], optimal holistic health, and freedom from injusticecorruptiondiscriminationracismsystematicoppression. breathe reality into 'human rights'. i'm over the rhetoric.

My letter to the people of the planet

2008-01-05T11:36:00.000-08:00

Dear Pupil,

Our world is spiritually frozen. Humanity is cold, people are dying unnecessarily, violence and division rule our world, and most people don’t seem to mind.

We are zombies, unaware of the fact that we are hurting ourselves. Though this sounds intense, it is our reality.

But, I believe there is a way to heal. I invite you to be more accepting of someone that looks different than you, speaks different than you, follows a different religion than you, dresses different than you, lives differently than you, has less than you, struggles more than you, lives in a different country from you, eats different food from you, believes in something different than you.

Perhaps with more acceptance of our differences, human beings can begin the long journey to getting along!

Signed,

S.N.A.

kidnapping children from africa is not ok!

2008-01-05T11:29:00.000-08:00

i hope by now you have heard of the french organization ‘zoe’s ark’ and their supposed attempts to “save” children from darfur. these incompetent and self-righteous, and quite frankly, disrespectful “activists”, have exposed the world to the audacity of some “humanitarian” efforts in thinking that they can do whatever they want with other people’s lives. and of course, however they want.

not only did they deceive french families into thinking they would be adopting ‘orphans’ (and collected thousands of dollars in the process), they completely disregarded chadian and sudanese country laws and regulations, obtained NO approval to take (one-hundred and three!!) children outside of the country to france, and essentially swindled a lot of people into believing they were doing something good. they, quite conveniently, completely looked over (or didn’t care to research) the fact that international out-of-country adoption is not even LEGAL in these two countries. not to mention the fact that these children were: a): NOT orphans and b): NOT sudanese!!!!!!

(yes, most of the children were actually from chad and lived with their families)

but…even if they were sudanse orphans, who gave them the right to charter a plane, fly to the region, and just TAKE children, without involving any authorities, without filling out any paperwork, without doing anything?they also disguised themselves in various ways to lure children, swindle family members, and straight up lie so that they could round up the children on a plane and fly them to an entirely different continent without anyone knowing about it.
that all smells like kidnapping, if you ask me. sounds like trying to get around a lot of activities that would have prevented them from completing the mission, if you ask me. sounds like trying to make a lot of money and appease your own guilt in the name of other people’s suffering, if you ask me.

if you asked me, I’d also tell you that it just sheds more reality on the superiority complex of certain groups over others.

it quite loudly says: we are better than you. you, and your laws are beneath us. this is africa. why do we need to get approval? we can do what we good and well please. just as our colonial forefathers did. right? i mean, africans dont have laws. well, maybe they do, but, those laws don’t mean anything to us. i mean, after all, the people are backwards and heathen-like anyway. right? i mean, at least that’s what the media and all my books on “africa” told me. right? i can do what i want on this territory because really, i think it’s mine. right?

WRONG!!!! it’s just WRONG. there’s nothing right(eous) about it. disguising your twisted plots as ‘humanitarian’ efforts is not going to make it okay for you to come and do what you please with the lives of other people.

they claim to have been moved to “save” children in darfur. yet again, the great white hope savior at it again.

who solicited their assistance?

audacity.

that’s the best word i can think of to describe this.

one-hundred and three?!?!

without any approval?

wow.

even french authorities are disgusted on this one (and tried to warn them that what they were doing was not legal). and so are many writers who have reported on the matter. and so are other ngo’s working in the region, who, at the very least, are doing their best to respect laws, procedures, and civil liberties of human beings.

and of course, many africans are also expressing outrage and protesting this latest attempt at population control. the distrust for europeans aid workers has already increased (more than before). but you can’t blame people for their caution. it’s always been known that the intentions of aid workers varies, but when something so blatantly disrespectful happens, it is sure to increase suspicion of ALL the aid workers that have come from outside to help.
(or steal).

it’s one thing to help people in need. but it’s another to go on a self-interested crusade and disrupt people’s lives, disregarding laws of a country you look down on.

i cannot claim to be shocked.

i have encountered enough people to know that some people will never be able to admit that their work just may be neo-colonialist in nature.

but i can express my utter disgust. and i will.

Humanity

2008-01-04T18:51:00.000-08:00

Humanity is on my mind today.

Really, the global position of Africa and its descendants is heavy on it.

I often ask people
When are we gonna get to enjoy this life without constantly having to combat?

Strap on your boots again soldiers
There’s yet another battle on the home-front

Yet another cause for you to respond to
Let’s organize a protest
Let’s write letters
Let’s speak out against racism
Let’s join forces and
Make our voices heard

But when we speak….
Does it sound like mice squeaking?
Why are we doing this over and over and over and over…

Wonder if anyone can hear us.
Maybe the mute button is on.
Maybe they sit back and laugh every time we react

Maybe
Maybe
Maybe

Perhaps no one understands how much quality of life
Gets knocked off after people expend continual energy
On wars

Oh yes.
It’s a perpetual war
Since day one

And what has changed.
A lot

But, a lot has not

“A lot of things have changed, a lot of things have NOT”

So, here we go again.
We keep our boots strapped
As we go through life
Waiting for the next advancement from the opposing forces

I want us to enjoy the sweet nothings in life
Take our kids to soccer practice
Have friends over for dinner
Walk the dogs on the beach
Plant gardens in our BACKYARDS
Have BACKYARDS
Realize every ounce of our dreams
Have DREAMS
And the only things we care about are things that we need to do to make life
LOVELY
Spiritually sound
Above ground

But, we don’t always get to

On top of the lovely things
Walking beside them is struggle
And imbalance

And a constant wondering of…

Will we ever get to live life and just enjoy it,
Continually
Without having to resist?

Some say nah
It’s not in our blueprint.

Black.

who i'd like to meet

2008-01-04T10:20:00.000-08:00

taken from www.myspace.com/peopleneedwater

FREEDOM FIGHTERS.LIFE LOVERS.WEIRDOS.ANOMALIES.MY DIASPORA.the gypsy that hipped me to some life game. someone who can see me on the dance floor with the same level of energy?! happy people. people aware that there's an entire planet out there. arundhati roy, the dopest writer and human rights champion en el mundo. comrades working to neutralize humanity and all of its injustices. all the beautiful children of the world. they move me. soulmates. folks comfortable in their skin. ya mama. people shinin' their light on this world. andre3000. dream catchers. rain makers. strong spirits. the end of racism, oppression, a.i.d.s., war. artists who use their craft for upliftment & change. people who don't generalize, please. a country where everyone has equal access to the goods. huggable bears. wacky individuals with wacky names. folks not bound by societal "rules".

uncessary starvation

2008-01-03T13:49:00.000-08:00

Starvation

Hundreds of thousands on the brink of starvation
Starvation
Millions under the looming threat of starvation
Millions
Another famine hits the Horn of Africa
Another
Famine strikes southern Africa again
Again
And again
Children dying from malnutrition
Children
Millions face death in Africa famine
Death
Famine threat across the Horn
Threat
In Dire Need of Food
Need

These are the headlines. This is how they describe the chronic, persistent hunger phenomenon. It's quite unnecessary that people are subjected to these types of realities. And no, it's not only due to inconsistent rainfall and a drought. It's deep. Thick. Can the brain even process all the facts?

All the truthunderneath the letsjustgivethemsomesacksoffoodandtheywillbeokay nonsense? It's a damn shame. Yes, a shame. Every freakin year more people are hungry. More people are dying. More children are emaciated, bones showing through their thin skin, mother's agonizing over how she might lose another child. Every freakin year more NGO's respond to such a catastrophic situation with food. In sacks. In boxes. From other countries. Costing billions of dollars to transport. They save some lives. Then go on about their own. Completely ignoring the fact that this will all happen again, next year. Same time, same place. Different people, because the ones from this year may not even be around. It makes me sick in my stomach. Year after year. When will they wake up and see that dropping food from the sky, dumping it in a community, is not enough?! What will it take? That only perpetuates dependency and limits local food production guys!! The Early Warning Famine System works. Okay, but let’s see here. If we know that certain countries are chronically suffering from famine, then why aren't these so-called “experts” investing the millions, excuse me, billions of dollars in preventing it from happening in the first place. Increasing buying power of local farmers---because often, it's not that there is not enough food, it's that people don't have the money to buy it. Ha. What a riddle. How about developing agricultural practices? Or, using the money to lobby for unjust trade policies to change so Africa isn't being pimped out of the world economic system. Use the money to pay down their debt with the IMF and World Bank. Use the money to invest in food production within a country. Damn, use the money to give people tools, establish water systems, buys cows, or just cash to go to the market. Not just therapeutic feeding centers. Not just the band-aid response.

I keep harping because they keep making the same senseless mistakes. You wonder what they really want to see happen. Ain't no reason people got to be losing their lives. Ain't no reason.

I'm tired. Of knowing that it doesn't have to be this way. I'm tired. Of feeling helpless, armed with knowledge and resources that have yet to make a difference. I'm tired. Of feeling this emptiness. I'm tired of feeling like I'm making other people sad by talking about this. I'm tired. Of knowing that this shit could all go away if the people making decisions really wanted it to. I'm tired. Of seeing children brought into a life of dire poverty, not ever given a chance to thrive and be children. I'm tired. Just plain tired. Of corrupt policies and leaders who frankly, don't give a damn. I'm tired of money being more important than the lives of humans. I'm tired of wondering if things will ever be different, in my lifetime. I'm tired. Of these thoughts. I'm tired of being confused. I'm tired of asking God questions. I'm tired of trying to figure out the end-all solution. Tired of thinking about malnourished children. I'm tired. But, I'm not stopping.

Know that the continent, my friends, is abundant with resources. Distribution of these resources is always the reason. There is an abundance of food on this planet people. Trust me on this.

It's depressing. But I am trying to be their strength. 'Cause right now, as I type in New York City, many people are feeling the wrath of starvation.

I believe there can be change.

Keep them with you. And pray.

excuse me, they are HUMANS, NOT aliens

2008-01-03T13:47:00.000-08:00

the nerve of folks and their verbiage. i'm just not clear as to why people who just happen to be from other ("third world, developing") country are referred to as illegal ALIENS? wow. it's come to that. let's see, last time i checked, an alien is non-human, from another planet, not of this world. and the next time i checked, people from other countries, were in fact, from the same planet as people from this one?!?! go figure! they are actually humans TOO. there are pet peeves, and there are things that irritate us, but this, my people, is an absurdity, blasphemy (to use one of my favorite words), and the superiority complex at its best. no justification on this one; folks shant be referred to as creatures. and to add to the cake, all of these territorial divides that can make someone 'illegal' just makes my stomach hurt sometimes. perhaps my idea of people being able to live, walk, roam, fly, and BE, wherever they please, is one of an idealistic dreamer. but perhaps, just PERHAPS, much of the strife in the world, throughout history, would be but a thought if there weren't so many land divisions and rules about who does what, where.

moral of this story. refrain from referring to PEOPLE as ALIENS. 'cause, um, they aren't. and referring to them as such only increases hate, ignorance, and negative stereotypes.