July 2011

To  invoke a deity then, is to call a personality complex out of its latent state within de Self….we cannot benefit from de infinite potential of de inwelling intelligence if we do not identify with it as our true self, which transcends all personality qualities. We cannot call out behaviour from our personalities that are not intrinsic to dem….

We read in plate XXVII (in de Pert em Hru), “said Ausar, (dat) de scribe Ani, justified in salaam.

I came into being from de unformed matter, I came into existence as Khepere (de principle of transformation). I unfolded into plants, I am hidden in de kobe (tortoise). I am  de te (atoms, essence) of every deity. I am yesterday as de four, en de uraeus of de seven which came into existence in de East.”….

Each deity is de archetype, or perfect exemplar for a specific personality type. Heru in Khamit, en Shango (Jakuta) with de Yorubas is de archetype of mature manhood, fatherhood, male leadership en kingship. Auset in Kamit, Yemoya with de Yorubas is de archetype of mature womanhood, motherhood, female leadership, en queen-mothership. Herukhuti in Kamit, Ogun with de Yorubas is de archetype of de enterprising, pioneering, defensive, en aggressive personality type, en so on….

De process is exactly as dat encountered in de practice of Homeopathic, or Chinese medicine…we consider de entire complex of symptoms, en if needed, all of de personality traits of de patient, en search for a remedy which addresses de entire complex…..

[revised excerpts from de Metu Neter Vol.1,

The Great Oracle of Tehuti and the Egyptian System of Spiritual Cultivation written by Ra Un Nefer Amen]

Hadithi? Hadithi?

Hadithi njoo, ya waganga na wahenga,

Ya jouvay! Na wot a ting! @ de redpath,

can’t af-ford to pay de devil? hebu tuongee

Ukweli njoo, Utamu kolea….


Rotate di husband en expose a hidden side….

Could be counted upon to lie if asked why. Otherwise could not be counted upon.

When I say hidden

I mean funny….

We have dis deep sadness between us en it spells so habitual I


Tell it from upendo.

You want a clean life I live a dirty one old story. Well.

Not much use to you without you am I.

I love you.

You make me cry.

There are three tings to notice bout dis letta.


Its symmetry:

Make me cry….you make me cry.


its casuistry:

cosmological motifs, fiya en wota, placed rite before talk of love

to ground it in associations of primordial eros en strife.

Third no return address.

I cannot answer. s/he wants no answer. What does s/he want.

Four tings

But from di fourth I flee

Chaste en craftily…..


“Devil’s share” is di portion of one’s goods that cannot be usefully spent en so gets sacrificed.

But wot if di devil is not so stupid.

What if a devil long after sacrifice

Starts comin en goin on di borderland-

Jus’ a crease in di daylight.

Disappearance was a game to hir…..Five werds for a dollar.

XIX. a conversashun between equals……


I know.




I can see why you would think dat.


Go on.

Faithless lecherous child.



What can I say.




But please.

Destroyer liar sadist fake.


Please wot.

Save me.

Who else do you say that to.

No one.

No one s/he says.

Have courage.

You fool.

Oh my love.


These are my trophies my campaigns my honors I lay them before you.

The women.


The lying.


The shame.

No there is no shame.

The shame I feel.

There is no shame except in retreat.


And I neva retreat.

I guess not.

Be my ally.

What are we talkin bout now.

If you wish not to go on with this I’ll stop…I’ve said everyting before.

What’s wrong with us.

Fog of war.

Why are we at war…no it’s not goin to clear up is it or make sense or come out into di open somewhere dis welter of disorder en pain is our life.


Your so-called freedom.

Our so-called love……

fo jouvay!

hadithi? hadithi?

hadithi njoo, uongo njoo, utamu kolea on dis day outta time….

revised excerpts of de beauty of de husband: a fictional essay in 29 tangos, written by anne carson [in dub]

I heart Tdot for di arts for social change renaissance thriving all thru downtown en di G.T.A,

for simple tings like a different festival to attend each weekend, en di chance to travel di dunia [world] within a province, if one chooses to.

lakini complex issues like mr.robford as mayor, di corporatization of community gatherings like afrofest, the parade formerly known as Caribana and Pride,

vitu kama the systemic erosion of public services en di spaces between di indigenous peoples of turtle island en all US  immigrants, remind me of di constant need for kumbukaing where we came from en vigilance bout where we headin…

still I walk deeper in love wit di possibilities en manifestation of UNITY in growing ‘new’ villages

hadithi? hadithi?

whatcha goin 2 pay di devil

[for massives (re)building sustainable bridges from di diaspora of righteousness to di moyo wa Afreeka]?

hadithi njoo, uongo njoo, utamu kolea….

Children’s Peace Theatre Presents:

8th Annual

Peace Is Possible Parade

Friday July 22, 2011

Children and their companions

Proceeding on a path to peace!

The parade will culminate in the Peace Theatre’s natural amphitheater in TaylorCreek Park, where participants are invited to watch a preview performance of:

An original play created by the

participants of Peace Camp 2011!


10:15 am: Meet atShopperWorldPlaza Parking Lot                     (3003 Danforth Ave)

11:00 am: Parade begins!

[call: peace is what we need

response: to be free, to be free]

1:00 pm: Performance of What Goes Around

Children’s Peace Theatre have been facilitating half-day workshops with Torontoartists for each participating day camp to prepare for the parade. Workshops run from July 4- 21

For more info, please contact

Dania Weinstein: 416-752-1550 dania@childrenspeacetheatre.org

I love beautiful surprises. Like today, me en 2 of de village pikney set out in de hottest day yet with de intention of playing in healing [spiral] gardens. Along de path of pickin fruits n juice, receiving zawadis on de streets of this concrete jungle….we ended up in another place, not t/here

Who knew we’d end up on cherry beach, reclaimin safe spaces, swimming, feastin en building altars with beloved villagers?

Give thanks for sacred circles en divine chosen families…..your energy is healing to my soul.

Deep drumming is heard from di street; folks turn their head backwards. The Kushites Returned leap, sweep down the aisles, silk cloth flies in the air gleaming with silver threads, the painted dancers burst through di darkness….the dancers had been in the aisles doing modern black Amerikan contractions and slides and swivels and things, and now they were all ancient en Afrikan…it’s so magic folks feel their own ancestors comin up out of di earth to be in di realms of their descendants; they feel di blood of their mothers still flowing in them, survivors of di diaspora…en all of Afrika is thundering in di air.

The audience doesn’t exist; everybody is moving, all is not lost. Cypress laughed as she samba’d to di exit….

Sassafrass wanted to know everyone, but everyone was dancing so hard, until Ariel arrived in a white satin robe en a silver and lapis headpiece. Then something holy and quiet started happening, and folks began talking to each other….and Sassafrass wandered in Cypress’ world….

It was day. It was time to dance, no matter what…

Braided lady of subway scents & magic

Rings in nose & wrists/music in di style of di islands

Lacin di trains dancing in di tunnels of hades

Ka-jungle-jingle-ka jungle juju

In damp downtown nites of love/di secrets of muscles used

Lights cajoling the tense spring of calves jumpin/space

Taken by di rippling womanness of yr back/

Do as you please/afrikan lady roaming los campos

Of di lower east side/caresses you with fried plantains

& drummers stealing corners for di winds to lift you

To di sun’s scant ray/lyric lady/dance di original dance

The original aboriginal dance of all time/challenge di contradiction of perfected pirouette with di sly knowin of hips that do-right/stretch till all di stars en sands of all our lands abandoned/mingle in di wet heat/sweat & grow warm/must be she di original aboriginal dancing gyal….

Someone found her. Another woman in a red tunic took her to an official place inside di grey world, where she was introduced as a survivor. Di leader, di queen, di reigning glory of dis community was a tall woman with red hair who welcomed Cypress and kept saying she would be safe…

Drums, drums. Drums, welcoming di faithful. Pulling them to move to dance. Shango conquered di forests. All human challengers. When Sassafrass hit di door, di smells overcame her. Incense, smoke, whiskey, rice&beans, lamb curry, honey…one by one di followers went to Shango’s mountain of apples to pray & reveal their most secret desires.

When Sassafrass lay flat on her stomach before Shango’s bounty, di seven holy ones laid hands on her. Sassafrass was blessed. She’d risen off di floor…she prayed that she might have a child. You leave your palms open that di gifts of di goddesses might have a place in your life….she prayed. She wove cloth, not thinking who it was for. She’d fallen from grace.

Mama Mbewe, Mama Sumara, Mama Iyabode passed chickens over her all nite. In the morning, she saw a vision of her mama. She lay on a bed of oranges, surrounded by burnin yellow candles, eating honey.

“I think I’m going to carry these spirits right on home. I guess I live in looms after all. Making tings: some cloth and one child, jus’ one.” [or a couple mo’…]

hadithi reposted na overflowin upendo from a kitabu called Sassafrass, Cypress & Indigo

‘be wisa what you wish for’….that’s how I will remember the adventures of di last moons; of deep wotas,  bredrin en dadas sharing resources to grow sustainable villages en festivals in di moyo of our communities based on di L werd

From Aretha Franklin’s epic show to Afrofest en all di limin in blockos en parks en by di wota, these are wot nourishin gatherings felt like – yet still di spaces between sustaining ourselves en others are fraught with harsh realities of the violence we experience en perpetrate in systemic quests for di ‘good life’

bado salaam is possible….

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