[In the beginning hadithi…..]

With a visible breath I yam walking;

I yam walking toward a buffalo nation.

And my voice is loud.

With a visible breath I yam walking;

I yam walking toward dis sacred object.


[There`s a story I know bout how dis ting called ubuntu initiated Molisa into de world wide web en healing/arts for social change movements kept dis blog here. I yam deeply grateful for divine collectives kama tdot renaissance, for when werds are not enough, there are true hadithi from simbas speaking. Oga I beg, check dis litanies of survival by sistas I love, respekt en admire so, en be inspired o!

Paukwa! Pakawa! Hadithi? Hadithi? Hadithi njoo, ukweli njoo, Utamu kolea.

Hapo zamani za kale palikuwa na…]


Iyan, de rock existed in a void; it was dark en lonely there. Iyan wished to create something other, so that he would not be lonely en so that he could have some powah over something other than himself. He pierced himself, en his blood, which was blue, flowed out until he was shrivelled, hard en powerless. What came from him formed Maka Ina (Mama Earth). De blue also formed de oceans, but de released powahs could not reside in de wota, so they formed de blue sky dome en called it Mahpiyato [blue sky].

The energy given up by de rock, now hard en powerless, is Taku Skan Skan, that which moves all tings. This powah was now diffused into de female earth, de male sky en de wotas.

Mahpiyato, creates Anpetu Wi, de Sun of de day, en Hanhepi Wi, de Sun of de night, or Mwezi [moon], to share his world with him. They marry, en there is constant daylight. S/he creates Tate’, de Baba, Igwe, or “chief” of all winds.

Created next are de Pte’ Oyate’, humans who live under de ground. They are created to serve de god/desses. They are called de Pte’ Oyate’ or Buffalo Nation; they become us, de Lakota. Their Igwe is Wazi [Old Man], en his wife is Wakanta [Old Womban].

They have a daughter, Ite’ [face], who grows up to be de most beautiful of de Ikce’ people. Ite’ is admired by Tate’, de Wind en eventually marries hir. Wakanka is not satisfied dat her daughter is married to a god, Tate’ en dat her children are de four winds. She wishes her beautiful daughta to be married to Wi, de Sun. She wishes for herself, her husband, en her daughta to have de powah of de god/desses en conspires with Iktomi, the Spider [trickster], to get what she wants.

He promises to help them, if they help him in his plan to make people look ridiculous forever. Iktomi tells Wi that he should have a feast to show everyone how proud he is of de Pte’ womban Ite’. He then helps Wakanka construct a magic charm for Ite’, so she will soon become so beautiful dat it will make Wi fall in love with her daughta.

Later, Iktomi sees Hanhepi, clothed in all her beauty, heading towards de feast. He tells her dat Ite’ has

been invited en dat she has made for herself a special dress. He encourages de Moon to return to her lodge en put on a mo beautiful face. Afraid to be embarrassed by a mere human, she agrees.

According to Iktomi’s plan, dis puts Ite’ at de feast of de god/desses before de Moon. iktomi tells her dat de empty seat beside Wi is for her, en she sits down next to de Sun. Then Wi, de Sun, takes one look at her en falls in love. Soon Hanhepi arrives to find her husband staring longingly at Ite’, a mere human. Ite’ sits wid Wi, ignoring her own husband, Tate’, de Wind. De Moon is shamefaced en storms off.

Angered, Mahpiyato, de Sky, calls de spirit together en punishes them for their foolishness. He banishes Ite’ to de earth, making one side of her face forever ugly, en tells her, “From now on you will be known as Anukite’, Double Faced Woman!” She is pregnant by Tate’ with their fifth child. Because of her mischief, Yummi, Whirlwind, is born playful en childlike. He will neva grow up. Sky sends Wakanka en Wazi to de far edges of de world, where they will wander forever. Tate’ is giv en custody of all five “wind” pikin en sent to de face of de earth, where he is to await a messenger, who will be Whope’, daughta of Mahpiyato himself.

Wi is told that because of his betrayal he will neva see his wife again. Hanhepi is told that because of her shame, she will constantly turn her

back on her husband en will neva look at him directly again. This begins de second time, night, en initiates de day-night cycle, en the third time, de “changing” moon or months.

Over time, Anukite’ comes to be lonely for Ikce’ or human nation. In spite of Mahpiyato’s admonition that she neva reside with her people, she begins to scheme. Drawn both by her desires en by his own for a lil mischief is Iktomi, also banished to earth for his part at de great feast. He is tired of teasing de animals en wishes to have mo fun, if only he en Anukite’ can

entice the Pte’ Oyate’ [humans] to de surface of de world. They decide that Iktomi changes his form to that of a wolf and, with de wondrous tanned en quilled robe of de buffalo en some roasted meat, heads for de cave known to connect de surface world with de underworld. He will leave de buffalo robe en meat near de entrance to entice de Ikce’ people to de surface.de smell of freshly roasted buffalo meat will entice them out of their cave. Anukite’ kills a buffalo, prepares de meat, en decorates the tanned robe with de quills of a porcupine.

Tokahe’ [First Man], chief of de Pte’ Oyate’, or Buffalo Nation, asks de spider to lead them to de surface world, where he finds de wondrous zawadis (gifts) en brings them back underground en shows them to the People. Six men and six women are convinced that Tokahe’ has found a betta place to live and follow him en his wife to de surface.

Here they become de ancestors of de Oceti Sagowin [Seven Fiya Places] that make up de Lakota, Dakota, en Nakota peoples – de People who are today called Sioux by de whites.

Soon de seasons changed, en de People wished to escape de cold that was sent by North Wind to torture them. They searched for de cave entrance but could not find it. Tokahe’, no longer Pte’ People but now only Ikce Oyate’ [common people], became frightened en ashamed; he cried for help. Wazi, now called “the Wizard”, en his wife, Wakanka,  now known as “the Witch” because of her ability to predict the future, will take pity on de humans, teaching them many tings that they will need to know to live on dis changing dunia. Thus de people learned to make their homes on earth.

(Originally told to Mark St. Pierre by Colleen Cutshall, Lakota artist and educator)

[remixed from Walking in the Sacred Manner / Healers, Dreamers, and Pipe Carriers – Medicine Women of the Plains Indians by Mark St. Pierre and Tilda Long Soldier]

[In de middle….Hadithi? Hadithi?  Are you ready for multi-layered readings of renaissance?]

De terms of de vision quest of maisha require dat you master de ability to walk in balance between those two worlds without getting caught between them. To a certain extent, it will be necessary to internalise de dunia of de Great Mama, for her perfect silence en solitude will not always be physically available to you. One way to ensure her constant presence in your moyo is to perform a simple daily ceremony……

Times will come when you can physically return to de wilderness en again hold communion with de moyo of Granmama Earth. But neva will you go to her to escape. You will go because you seek to return to e human world wid de benefits of her teaching en empowerment. She will offer you temporary asylum en will send her messengers to validate and clarify your life purposes. She will give you further insight into de resources available to you. Treat her with reverence en she will reverence you.

There will be many times when you stumble and fall, when you are certain no one in the human world knows or cares. Then you will want to crawl back to your power place en begin all over again. Remember that these are de times of greatest potential, when you are looking your dragons square in e eye. When all is said en done, only you know what you have hidden away, growing steadily en surely with its magical roots in your subsoil. As you grow, de vision grows. There is no other way.

[remixed excerpts from Kitabu ya The Vision Quest: Personal Transformation in the Wilderness by Steven Foster with Meredith Little]

En so goes dis love letter to Tdot renaissance. Nakupenda o! Werds are lacking in how to say asante to you.

Ire, Ire, ire!
Ire aiku, ire aya, ire omo, ire owo, ire isegun l’ori ota, ire alafia.
Blessings of long life, good health, obedient children, prosperity, victory over your enemies and peace of mind.

“I Am because We Are; and because We Are, therefore I Am!”


Sassafrass was running all thru herself lookin foh some way to get into her secrets en share, like Richard Wright had done en Zora Neale Hurston had done….de way de Lady gave herself, every time she sang.

Do Nothing till you Hear from Me

Pay no Attention to What’s Said

From out de closet came Billie, de Lady, all decked out in navy crepe en rhinestones. She was pinning a gardenia into her hair, when Sassafrass realised wot was happening.

De Lady sighed a familiar sigh. Sassafrass tried to look as calm as possible en said, “I sho I’m glad to see you – why you haven’t come to visit me since Mama used to put me to bed singing ‘God Bless The Child,’ en you would sit right on my pillow singing with her.”

De Lady smiled sort of haughty en insisted Sassafrass listen carefully to everyting she was going to say.

 “It’s de blues, Sassafrass, dat’s keepin’ you from your writing, en de spirits sent me because I know all bout de blues….dat’s who I yam: Miss Brown’s Blues….” De Lady was holding a pearl-studded cigarette holder dat dazzled Sassafrass, who could hardly believe what she was hearing. De Lady went on en on. “Who do you love among us, Sassafrass? Ma Rainey, Mamie Smith, Big Mama Thornton, Freddie Washington, Josephine, Carmen (DeLavallade), Miranda? Don’t you know we is all sad ladies because we got de blues, en joyful womben because we got our songs?

Make you a song, Sassafrass, en bring it out so high all us spirits can hold it en be in your tune. We need you, Sassafrass, we need you to sing as best as you can; that’s our nourishment, that’s how we live. But don’t you get all high en mighty ‘cause all us you love so much is hussies too, and we catch on if somebody don’t do us right. So make us poems en some stories, so we can sing a liberation song. Free us from all these blues en sorry ways.”

De Lady turned to de doorway on her right en shouted, “Come on, y’all,” en multitudes of brown-skinned dancing girls with ostrich-feather headpieces en tap shoes started doing

de cake-walk all around Sassafrass, who was trying to figure out de stitching pattern on their embroidered dresses, en trying to keep them from jumping up en shaking her ass when, in unison, de elaborately beaded womben started swinging their hips towards her, singing: SASSAFRASS IS WHERE IT’S AT, SASSAFRASS GOT A HIPFUL OF LOVE, A HIPFULOF TRUTH….SASSAFRASS GOTTA JOB TO DO, DUES TO PAY SO SHE COULD DANCE WITH US….WHOOEEE!

And all of a sudden de chorus line disintegrated….en Sassafrass gathered all there was that was mo to her than making cloth. Just as she was about to slip out of de room, Sassafrass turned to de Lady to capture jus a lil mo of de magic, en de Lady only murmured, 

“We need  you to be Sassafrass ‘til you can’t hardly stand it….’til you can’t recognise yourself, en you sing all de time.”

……Sassafrass had made an appliquéd banner saying jus’ that, en hung it over de stove:



De visiting Padrinos & Madrinos could be heard beginning de rites foh Shango’s day of birth. Caboe. Canta para Ebioso. De Abaqua. Drums & chanting ran through de lush backwoods of Louisiana.

Sassafrass liked to think de slaves would have been singing like dat, if de white folks hadn’t stole our gods. Made our god/desses foreign to

us, so de folks in Baton Rouge nevah came near those “crazy fanatic niggahs” out there.

Mama Mbewe’s voice raced through de forests, de makeshift cabins where weavers, potters, painters, musicians, dancers en ordinary folks seeking another life had made home

                             Shango para icote

Shango para icote

O de mata icote

A la ba obaso icote

A la ba obaso icote

Drums, drums. Drums, welcoming de faithful. Pulling them to move to dance…..

Hadithi? Hadithi? Hadithi njoo…

[kama] Remixed excerpts from Sassafrass, Cypress & Indigo, a kitabu written by Ntozake Shange

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….

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

My pride was filled with lessons in humbleness en healing synergy, divine thrills like brunching at the Toronto Rape Crisis Centre, jumpin in with di women’s health in women’s hands float/limin down yonge street @ di dyke march, gettin fed some mo @ di centre en a catchin a tan, drummin to Shango beats,  serving blackness yes!, playing with village pikney en greeting di new year with Swagger….these are wot safe spaces felt like.  I give thanks for growing within such rich en vibrant communities where not only I, but so many others can harvest di labour of god/desses organising celebrashuns of our truth.

Di spaces between last weekend na Pride, in di ‘other’ heart of downtown were  also filled with di challenges of re/claimin space n reconciling di diversity in our rainbow nations na overwhelming spectacles of ‘di corporashun’ n whiteness.

I experienced many kwanzas, missed di trans march on Friday for my first ‘straight’ Blocko in di diaspora, na pili, missed di Pride parade for the third time [in di lookin at a decade that ai’ve been in tdot] foh di first event that keeps me involved in dis beautifully evolving mess, volunteerin @ Blockorama.

We also experienced ‘new’ kinds of violence, small tings like a group of 3 sittin in a park deliberately shooting their wota guns @ 3 of us walking thru di same space on our stroll through di jungle, gettin ‘be wise what you wish for’ syndrome wot with being ‘back on di block’ en all yet progressively mo fenced in with less trees en mo concrete, mo ‘first-time’ faces en less elders, no Rob Ford en di brotha dat my dada spit on after taking in hate-filled diatribes on di streetcar that hit home that much mo’ given di timin en all.

The bigger point is, we’re still recoverin….but already I can see di rest of di summer mo than making up for di Pride that was. Weekends spent feasting in parks with bredrin en sistren in solidarity en @ Afrofest, di Peace is Possible Parade, Caribana n Wild Wota Queendoms, these are what betta times are made of.

 Yemonja/Yemaya/Yemoya – the mother of fishes

when: June 25th 2011

where: 109 Vaughan Road, Tdot Ontario

We will be performing a ritual to honour Yemoja. Yemaya is personalized as a woman ebony of colour with full large breasts who nurtures the world. From myths, her early incarnation on earth was that of passive energy in di creation process. She evolved into the strong, dominant earth mother after experiencing trials of disrespect and at times violence.

According to a Pataki, Yemonja’s response to a repugnant act that occurred against her was to plunge from a hill to the earth. This act caused her stomach to burst open from which sprang the sixteen orisas and the first human man and woman. The fluids that came forth from her produced the rivers, lakes and seas.

Yemonja teaches us to persevere despite what life brings us.

Yemoja’s colors are in the range of blue and white dependent upon her avatar or path. Her number is 7.

Please feel free to bring your drum or shaker and join in.
Or just dance and enjoy the music.

Appropriate offerings are he-goat, ram, turtles, rooster, quail, pigeons, guinea hens and all hunted animals. Feel free to bring any other food you may want to share for the feast afterward.

See you there!

[from A. na upendo to k. m.(e)n. t….]

you’ll never believe what happened is always a great way kuendelea! kuna hadithi najua. It’s about the earth and how it floats on the back of a kobe….

hadithi zetu kama [like] yemoja pan Afrikan healing arts en di evolushun of dubpoetry

 Ghanaian red roses


I am thinking u

Wrapped in cloud’s nite

Piercing poetry with rhythmic trilogies

Of hip-hop en hypnosis

Lovin you lovin music lovin me

I am thinking u smiling from century

To tomorrow with a reflection

Of urself that u recognize

To be ancient n wise n present perfect

Hakema i am thinking u

Wrapped in me wrapped in belief n faith

Wrapped in tatu [three]

I want to divide myself

Times your [luv] upendo

Equals a future of memories n today

Hakema i am thinking u

Enveloped by everything u need

Laid at ur feet

Sent on the wings of a messenger

In love with your essence

Your presence for being

U are alive

Because life decided to bless herself

A dark emerald


Know dis

I love u like the safe blackness of nite

Fierceness of day

Yellow ukweli of sunflowers

Mystic blues of di ocean

I love u like dreams

Caressing ur aching bones

With morning dew

From Ghanaian red roses


Na shairi kama, small dangers en rivers that bleed

(for adam)

I take you in. A black breath

Ancient sacred. We are so overdue

I hold you. In a space we are both familiar

A mirror reflection. With future expectation

I breathe. Hold

So you feel the pulse of my blood. Bleeding an unquenchable wound

In the fester of leo. I touch you

Like a black womban

Knowing. Too much.

How soothing the ocean bed is

Our ancestors

Whisper coldly. From there. Other times

Blood n fiya. The taste of not forgetting

When will you let me hold you

We are so overdue. Strong n discovering

I send you an ancient embrace

Let her kiss your lips with the sweet bitter taste of struggle

I am too far to do it myself

Hadithi like these make me so happy, nashukuru wale wanaospread love, hope, truth n positivity in abundance…..