Dadas in de Struggle: Pamoja Tutafika!

on the quest for a resurgent Afrikan womyn’s activism in Tdot

[some] tings that inspire, restore & sustain me[=we]: kama picha za yesterday, leo na kesho

1. Dis kinda soul/fullfood strengthens en positively transforms not only me so…..stories of bredrin and sistas gathering in love & solidarity, invoking the spirit of intimacy with each other and those who wished they were t/here but couldn’t make it, god/desse/s calling names of honourable wahenga en elders, sharing multi-layered journeys of big sistas,mamas, and others in our rainbow soup spectrum of identities. nights like watching Sistas in the Struggle with de Network for Pan-Afrikan Solidarity. re/learning from walimu kama Angela Robertson. Yolisa Dalamba. Wariri Muhungi. Kim Crosby.Dionne Brand.Leleti Tamu.Dionne Falconer.Sherona Hall…..

De question that brought me to dis ‘afrikan liberation moon’ gathering was how it took me this long to see this documentary? How did i miss it in all mi research for women’s & sexual diversity studies & feminist philosophy courses back when I was in ‘university’? true say naming IT started in mi belly, took a night of dreaming en a day to put words to, even as I listened to & reflected on versions of these questions in the audience, reminders to re/locate miself – en on the boundaries of this not-for- profit industrial complex within which so many comrades gather – what are the possibilities in sharing more meaningful resources in concrete continental-diasporic exchanges?  Jana, the spaces between, was dancing with de recognition & acknowledgment of big sistas that been teaching, taking care of, liming with & advocating for we in ‘ritualised’ community spaces through generations. Womben that I been listening to, learning from,sharing & building in extended villages with almost de entire decade that I been ‘immigrated’ to Tdot, some – mentors, others that I’d never met before, all warriors on the frontlines of social justice movements, harvesting litanies of survival en notes to belonging…I yam grateful for the builders who maintain positive, safe/r spaces to deepen our connection with the responsibilities of taking care of not only ourselves

network for pan-afrikan solidarity

but others and honouring our ancestors en those yet to come, within dis fundamental context called ubuntu.

What do a film screening & panel discussion organised, in Tdot, by the Network for Pan-African solidarity, an African heritage celebration for Ibeji, have in common with a fundraising drive, organised on the continent, by Fahamu, and a Day to end violence against sex workers, other than, uses of the powah of coalition building or intersectionality?

These are precious tokens of de ‘hirstory-making’ postcards of yesterday that I will remember tomorrow.

2. Stories like these make me so happy….What do Kenya, Tanzania, Ghana, South Africa, Nigeria, Malawi, Zimbabwe, Japan, Belgium, Germany, Sweden, Canada, the Netherlands, the UK, and the USA have in common?

They are home to people who have joined the Friends of Pambazuka and made a donation in the past two weeks. To our new Friends, thank you for your support and welcome to community of Friends. You are the first of many.

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3. Hadithi like these make me smile so hard

The Water Bird

A water-bird once, in search of food, swallowed the King of the crabs, and the whole tribe of crabs were so enraged that they swore they would have their revenge.

‘We will find this horrible bird,’ they declared, ‘and nip off its legs. We shall not fail to find it, for its legs are bright pink in colour and its feathers are pink and white.’

But the water-rat overheard the crabs plotting and hastened to tell the water-bird.

‘Oh! Oh!’ cried the water-bird. ‘They will nip off my beautiful pink legs, and then waht will become of me? Whatever can I do?’

‘It is very simple,’ replied the water-rat. ‘If you stand on one leg, they will think you are some other creature.’

The bird thanked him and tucked up one leg. When the crabs came, they saw, as they thought, a very tall pink bird with one leg and a large beak.

‘Our enemy has two legs,’ they said. ‘This cannot be he.’ And they passed away.

Ahahahaha!

Reblogged from http://excentricyoruba.tumblr.com.

asante dada

 

shamba ya msambwa: garden of de spirits

Hadithi? Hadithi? Hadithi njoo….

Kuna hadithi najua bout vile dis dunia inafloat in space on de mgongo wa kobe, na kila mara mtu husimulia hii hadithi inabadilika, sometime’s de change is in de voice of de storyteller, but in all the tellings, dis dunia neva leaves de kobe’s back.

Paukwa! Pakawa!

I remember so many stories starting wid one of de sacred orders of pan-africanism, Kenyan style!

Sometings were jus’ like dat, (whether ulikuwa ocha, mjini, pwani au mlima za Elgon na Kilimanjaro), sometings we understood, were indigenus to de land, en stayed on de continent, within our tribes en clans, slums en bourgeoise hubs, the spaces between our ‘school’ & ‘holy’ days, tribes of neo-colonial patterns.

Hii hadithi is about growing up in de arteries of Nairobi – (Matatu) Route 44 & 45; surrounded by de hoods of Baba Dogo, Kariobangi, Zimmerman, Githurai, Mathare, en de lavishness of Garden Estate, Kiambu, Muthaiga,Runda, the army barracks…..

Na bado moyo wa Afreeka ni shambani kama mwezi wapasua wingu, wachimbuka, waleta anga……

bunge la mwananchi

kama ni ukweli, what is the right way nyumbani?

I give thanks for Tdot en dis renaissance groove we (been) in, nashukuru wahenga wa Kobe Island, for allowing me/we to walk pon dis land, nashukuru their guidance en protecshun. Nashukuru wahenga wangu ninaowajua, wale sijui, na wale wanaonijua deeper than I know myself, I give thanks munavyotubeba.  Wa Mungu uwazi na wewe, ubarikiwe.

….De concepts presented here are by no means inclusive. They are merely de ones that [I, and] Tobe Melora Correal, as a student of [dis Bukusu, Swahili en] Yoruba tradishun making her [our] own journeys toward deeper understanding, feel are some of de most important. They are also among de fundamental metaphysical ideas that inform de core practices en daily experiences of practitioners around de world.

In de Yoruba (Bukusu en kiSwahili) cosmos, there is one Supreme Being – the source, the Almighty Owner of de entire universe, God – whose work on dis galaxy is carried out  by one Creator, whose work on Earth is aided by 401 gods en goddesses. Both Source (Olorun/Were) en Creator (Olodumare/Gulu/Mungu) exist in de invisible realm (Ikole Orun), while de “helper” god/desse/s (the Orisa) exist as divine immortals on Earth (Ikole Aye).

De energies of Source flow into en join with de energies of de Creator, which combined flow through en join with de manifold energies of de Orisa, which then flow through all that exists in Creashun.

Chapter 1                            In de beginning…..

Yoruba (en Bukusu) divinity actually begins before de mwanzo, with Olorun, de Supreme Being en  Source of de entire universe. According to Yoruba teachings, Olorun is so profound an intelligence en mystery, such an intense force, that we can never fully understand what IT is or how IT organizes en runs de universe. Although often referred to by practitioners as Father and He, Olorun is neither male nor female. For de sake of simplicity en also because it feels comfortable for me personally, I often use de feminine pronoun when referring to Olorun.

Ukweli ni, Olorun is an infinitely divine force that is minimized by assigning it either/or/any gender. Indeed, Olorun’s composition en potency are beyond de capacity of de human body to experience consciously with our physical senses.

Although de Supreme Being is beyond our intellectual en physical grasp, Yoruba teachings maintain a fundamental oneness exists between God en creashun. For Yoruba en Bukusu practitioners, holiness resides within all tings of nature, both animate en inanimate. People who look at life through an either/or  lens may have trouble with de concept of every single ting being at one with an indefinable entity that we cannot touch, see, hear, smell, taste, or fully explain.

How, they might ask, can someting be so elusive at de same time so integral to who en what we are? If we can neva physically experience or even describe Olorun, how can we find oneness with God here on Earth? How can we human beings live spiritually connected to de Supreme Being? How can we breathe God’s breath in every moment?

[Not only] The Yoruba [en Bukusu] path follows a both/and  approach to living, which allows for en embraces all facets of any situation, even forces that appear to cancel out each other. Dis ability to see multiple sides of tings makes it possible for us to accept de idea that God is near us en far away. It enables us to acknowledge that although God is mo powahful than we can envision or articulate, God is in our breath, our blood, en every moment of our daily lives…….

For de Yoruba, Olodumare functions as the creative divine intelligence, birthing en sustaining all matter. S/he does so without error en allows only that which has met hir approval to manifest.

Olodumare, like Olorun, is often designated as male, but like Olorun, Olodumare also transcends gender. De tendency to refer to Olodumare en Olorun as male is de product of partriarchal thinking en cultural systems. Because Olodumare represents de sacred womb of Creashun – en because womben create new life through their wombs – I choose to use de feminine pronoun for dis hadithi.

Nonetheless, please remember that although feminizing de Creator is, in a basic sense, appropriate to dis hadithi, it is not metaphysically accurate. While Olodumare and Olorun encompass both feminine en masculine energies, neither is exclusively male or female.

Na pia, while it is entirely appropriate to refer to Olorun, Olodumare, and Orisa as God, Yoruba teachings are very clear that there is only one source, Olorun. Olodumare and Orisa perform functions as extensions of Olorun’s unchanging Essence. Their divine powahs derive from Olorun; without Hir they could not even exist….

It is precisely because Yoruba tradition recognizes de singular greatness of Olorun that de Orisa are so important to practitioners.  We acknowledge ourselves as de children of Orisa, who are de watoto of de Creator, who is the child of Source, de Supreme Being. We understand that all pouring of divine maji – from Olorun to Olodumare, through de Orisa, en into Creashun – has endowed all maisha with de sacredness of de One Source. We realize that de Orisa are immediately responsible for filling our dunia en each of us wid Olorun’s magic.

Because we know dis about de Orisa, we revere them and we thank them. We pay speciall attention to them through our rituals en shrines, in private en in community, because our relationship with Orisa keeps us mindful of de powah, beauty, en presence of Olodumare. In loving Orisa, we acknowledge the flow of Olorun’s essence running through our lives.

For de Yoruba (en other traditions), de more intimately we know Orisa, de more intimately we know God…ase….

[revised excerpts from one of mi favourite books, zawadi kutoka mama wangu wa tatu] Finding Soul on The Path of Orisa by Tobe Melora Correal. mama ubarikiwe.

 

map to de beauty of mi mama’s prayers

inayofuata ni another straight-up so inspiring kinda hadithi that it got reposted-as-is, kwasababu sharing is caring, and it is betta to speak our truth, remembering we were never meant to survive…..

To counter some aspects of popular native literature that portray native people as stoic or create characters who speak pidgin English, we are pleased to be able to include some poems that give tender insight into the world of a Lakota mama. The fact that they were written by

the late Isabelle (Ten Fingers) Kills Enemy, a respected Lakota holy woman whom Tilda Long Soldier met in the early seventies, reveals a deeply touching side of a holy womban.

Isabelle’s daughter Valentina Janis explained that during the years when her mama was most active as a healer, she was not around her much and went to only a few of her ceremonies. Valentina shared what she could and then said, “ You know, there is something about my mom that not many people know. She loved to write poems and songs and she even wrote her own music.” Here is a poem on the loss of a child:

SINGING TO HEAVEN

On a moonlight

In a dream, lil’ darling

Dream denotes so you will be gone-gone-gone

From this whole wide world of living.

Just memories you are leaving

Singing, winging your way to heaven

Singing, winging your way to heaven

In this dream world

We’re happy, little darling

Missed you soon from our midst you’re gone-gone-gone

In vain your name we were calling

Searching then we heard your singing.

-RISING WIND (ISABELLE TEN FINGERS), 1906-84

Mother, daughter, granddaughter-these holy womben we met or learned of were not the isolated, childless crones of popular literature. Valentina also showed us a set of songs her mama had composed on staff paper. Not only could this womban, a reservation full-blood born on April 18 1906, write poetry in English but she had also acquired all the skills involved in songwriting.

Cultural anthropologists tell us that shamans were the first poets, artists and songwriters of the human race. They also point out that high intelligence and being multitalented were almost prerequisites to this sacred calling. At the end of her life, Isabelle wandered into the Badlands near her home. Her body was not found for some time.

BEAUTY OF MY MAMA’S PRAYERS

My dearest memories of Mama

As she trod along life’s way

Serenely she paused and stood there

At the altar she knelt and prayed

There’s a sweet strangeness when

Mama prayed for you and me.

And the peace and love on her face

Was like the glowing dawn of day.

The sunlight seemed brighter

Round her

When my mama knelt and prayed.

Like rainbow o’er the flowers that grow

Beauty of my mama’s prayer

Like singing or a river that flows

Beauty of my mama’s prayer

Like breezes o’er my fevered brow

When life is low, and the joy of love on her face.

Was like the glowing dawn of day.

The sunlight seemed bright around her,

When my mama knelt en prayed.

-RISING WIND (ISABELLE TEN FINGERS)

Ese.

[excerpts from Healers, Dreamers, and Pipe Carriers – Medicine Women of the Plains Indians –  Walking in The Sacred Manner

by Mark St.Pierre & Tilda Long Soldier]

 

Which questions are we not asking ourselves about our ndoto?

“If I had an hour to solve a problem and my life depended on the solution, I would spend the first 55 minutes determining the proper question to ask, for once I know the proper question, I could solve the problem in less than five minutes.”   —  ALBERT EINSTEIN

 …..Why Don’t We Ask Better Questions?

If asking good questions is so critical, why don’t most of us spend more of our time and energy on discovering and framing them? One reason may be that much of Western culture, and North American society in particular, focuses on having the “right answer” rather than discovering the “right question.” Dis educational system focuses more on memorization and rote answers than on the art of seeking new possibilities.

We are rarely asked to discover compelling questions, nor are we taught why we should ask such questions in the first place. Quizzes, examinations, and aptitude tests all reinforce the value of correct answers. Is it any wonder that most of us are uncomfortable with not knowing?

The aversion in Western culture to asking creative questions is linked to an emphasis on finding quick fixes and an attachment to black/white, either/or thinking. In addition, the rapid pace of our lives and work doesn’t often provide us with opportunities to participate in reflective conversations in which we can explore catalytic questions and innovative possibilities before reaching key decisions. These factors, coupled with a prevailing belief that “real work” consists primarily of detailed analysis, immediate decisions, and decisive action, contradict the perspective that effective “knowledge work” consists of asking profound questions and hosting wide-ranging strategic conversations on issues of substance.

The reward systems in our organizations further reinforce this dilemma. Leaders believe that they are being paid for fixing problems rather than for fostering breakthrough thinking. Between our deep attachment to the answer—any answer—and our anxiety about not knowing, we have inadvertently thwarted our collective capacity for deep creativity and fresh perspectives. Unfortunately, given the unprecedented challenges we face both in our own organizations and as a global community, we need these skills now more than ever. Are there organizations that do place a high value on questions? Consider the ones in y/our communities…..

 [revised excerpts from] THE ART OF POWERFUL QUESTIONS: Catalyzing Insight, Innovation, and Action    by Eric E.Vogt, Juanita Brown, and David Isaacs

[Also what are the stories in our cultures that place a high value on questions? Fafanua…]

HADITHI YA MARAFIKI WAWILI (the story of de two friends)

ONCE upon a time there was a potter and his wife who had one child, a little boy, and as he grew older they were grieved to see that he was different from all other children.

He never played with them, or laughed, or sang; he just sat alone by himself, he hardly ever spoke to his parents, and he never learnt the nice polite manners of the other children in the village. He sat and thought all day, and no one knew what he thought about, and his parents were very sad.

The other women tried to comfort the potter’s wife. They said: “Perhaps you will have another baby, and it will be like other children.” But she said:

“I don’t want another baby; I want this one to be nice.” And the men of the village tried to cheer the potter. “Queer boys often become great men,” they said. And one old man said: “Leave the boy alone; we shall see whether he is a wise man or a fool.”

The potter went home and told his wife what the men had said, and the boy heard him, and it seemed to wake him up, and he thought it over for a few days, and at last one morning at dawn he took his stick in his hand and went into the forest to think there.

All day he wandered about, and at last he came to a little clearing on the side of a hill from which he could look down over the country. The Sun was setting over the distant blue hills, and everything was touched with a pink and golden light, and deep shadows lay on the banana gardens and forests in the distance, but the boy saw none of these things; he was footsore and weary and miserable, and he sat down on a fallen log, tired out with his long day. Suddenly a lion came out on to the clearing.

“What are you doing here all alone?” he said severely.

“I am very miserable,” said the boy, “and I have come into the forest to think, for I do not know whether I am a wise man or a fool.”

“Is that all you think about?” said the lion.

“Yes,” answered the boy, “I think about it night and day.”

“Then you are a fool,” said the lion decidedly. “Wise men think about things that benefit the country.” And he walked away.

An antelope came bounding out on the clearing and stopped to stare at the boy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I am very miserable,” answered the boy; “I don’t know whether I am a wise man or a fool.”

“Do you ever eat anything?” said the antelope.

“Yes,” said the boy, “my mother cooks twice a day, and I eat.”

“Do you ever thank her?” said the antelope.

“No, I have never thought of that,” answered the boy.

“Then you are a fool,” said the antelope. “Wise men are always grateful.” And he bounded off into the forest again.

Then a leopard came up and looked suspiciously at him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked crossly.

“I am very miserable,” answered the boy; “I don’t know if I am a wise man or a fool.”

“Do they love you in your village?” asked the leopard.

“No, I don’t think they do,” said the boy. “I am not like other boys. I don’t know them very well.”  “Then you are a fool,” said the leopard. “All boys are nice; I often wish I were a boy; wise men mix with their fellows and earn their respect.” And he walked on sniffing.

Just then the big grey elephant came shuffling along the forest path,  “What are you doing here all alone in the jungle when the Sun is setting?” he asked. “You should be at home in your village.”swinging his tail as he walked, and picking a twig here and a leaf there as he passed under the trees.

“I am very miserable,” said the boy. “I don’t know if I am a wise man or a fool.”

“What work do you do?” asked the elephant.

“I don’t do any work,” said the boy.

“Then you are a fool,” said the elephant. “All wise men work.” And he swung away down the path which leads to the pool in the forest where the animals go to drink, and the boy put his head down in his hands and cried bitterly, as if his heart would break, for he did not know what to do.

After a little while he heard a gentle voice by his side: “My little brother, do not cry so; tell me your trouble.” The boy raised his tear-stained face and saw a little hare standing by his side.

“I am very miserable,” he said. “I am not like other people, and nobody loves me. I came into the forest to find out whether I am a wise man or a fool, and all the animals tell me I am a fool.” And he put his head in his hands again and cried more bitterly than ever.

The hare let him cry on for a little while, and then he said: “My little brother, do not cry any more. What the animals have told you is true; they have told you to think great thoughts, to be grateful and kind to others, and, above all, to work. All these things are great and wise. The animals are never idle, and they marvel to see how men, with all their gifts, waste their lives. Think how surprised they are to see a boy like you, well and strong, doing nothing all day, for they know that the world is yours if you will make it so.”

The Sun had set behind the distant hills and the soft darkness was falling quickly over the forest, and the hare said: “Soon it will be chilly here; you are tired and hungry, and far from your village; come and spend the night in my home and we will talk of all these things.”

So they went into the forest again, and the hare brought the boy water in a gourd and wonderful nuts to eat, and made him a soft bed of dry leaves.

And they talked of many things till the boy said: “My father is a potter, and I think I should like to be a potter too.” “If you are, you must never be content with poor work,” said the hare. “Your pottery must be the best in the country; never rest until you can make really beautiful things; no man has any right to send imperfect work out into the world.” “Nobody will believe in me when I go home; they will think I am mad,” said the boy. And the little hare answered: “wo/man’s life is like a river, which flows always on and on; what is past is gone for ever, but there is clear water behind; no man can say it is too late, and you are only a boy with your life before you.”

“They will laugh at me,” said the boy.

“Wise men don’t mind that,” said the hare; “only fools are discouraged by laughter; you must prove to them that you are not a fool. I will teach you a song to sing at your work; it will encourage you:

“When the shadows have melted in silver dawn, Farewell to my dreams of play. The forest is full of a waking throng, And the tree-tops ring with the birds’ new song, And the flowers awake from their slumber long, And the world is mine to-day.

“My feet are sure and my hands are strong.
Let me labour and toil while I may.
When the Sun shall set in a sea of light,
And the shadows lengthen far into the night,
I shall take the rest which is mine by right,
For I’ll win the world to-day.”

In the early morning the hare went with the boy to the edge of the forest and they swore an oath of friendship, which is as sacred in the jungle as among men, and the hare said:

“Come back sometimes and see me, and we will spend a long day together in the forest. Come to this place and sing my song, and the birds will tell me you are there if I am too far away to hear.”

So the boy went back to his village, and he found his mother digging in the garden, and he knelt down and greeted her as all nice Baganda children do, and he saw how pleased she was. Then he went to his father, and said: “I want to be a potter; teach me your work and I will try to learn it.” And the potter was very much pleased to think that he would have a son to take on his trade after him, and all the people in the village heard and they rejoiced with the potter and his wife.

And the boy worked hard, and in after years he became a famous potter, and people came from all parts of the country to buy his pottery, for everyone knew that he never sold anything that was not beautiful and well made.

He made beautiful black pottery, and sometimes he put a design in white on it, and everything he made was good.

But sometimes the old black moods would return and he would feel sick of his work and all the people round him, and then he would go away at dawn to the edge of the forest and sing the hare’s song, and the little hare would come running down the forest path, and the two friends would spend a long day together, while the man would shake out his heart and all its sorrows to the hare, and he never failed to get love and comfort and encouragement in return, and went back to his work full of hope.

This all happened many years ago; nowadays men think they are much wiser than the animals, but sometimes you may see a strange look in the eyes of an animal, as if it would say: “That man thinks he is wise, but he is only a fool.” And the animals in the forests and jungles and in our houses watch everything we do, and they marvel when they see how some men waste their lives.

(reposted from http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/baskerville/king/king.html)

Hadithi? Hadithi? Hadithi njoo, ukweli njoo, Utamu kolea.

Giza ya? Sahani ya? Nipe mji?

 

Mukadzi Namata: reclaiming “open source” hadithi

There is a story I know.  It’s about the earth and how it floats in space on the back of a kobe (turtle) na Maat.  I’ve heard this story many times, and each time someone tells the story, it changes.  Sometimes the change is simply in the voice of the storyteller. Sometimes the change is in the details. Sometimes in the order of events, leo ni ya akina dada na mama wa Afreeka, asemaye kesho ni muongo.

Other times it’s the dialogue or the response of the audience.  But in all the tellings of all the tellers, the world never leaves the kobe’s back.  And the kobe never swims away.…

Hapo zamani za kale pia, mukadzi (wali)namata, en before the earth even got on de kobe’s back, womyn’s prayers brought de visions of heaven to de dunia, straight from de moyo of Afreeka aka. as

Maat, pronounced “Ma aut,” corresponds to de faculty within wo/mban wherein is intuited and experienced de urge to live truth (according to de laws of de indwelling self).

The name and de meaning are derived from de hieroglyph that is de phonetic symbol of “Maa”-de measure of a cubit. The connection of measurement with Truth is one of de most profound achievements of de Afreekan mind.

[We saw that] de name of Maat’s complement (brother/husband), Tehuti, is also based on de idea of measurement. When something, one side of an equation, is known, it is because we have an objective standard, de other side of de equation, against which to measure it. Hence, the “double measure” or “Tehu-ti,” the “utchau metut” (weighing of words) and the weighing of the heart judgement, etc.

The construction of all things and the unfolding of all events are based on universal patterns underlying the activities of all natural forces. While some of de patterns underlying physical phenomena have been discovered and codified by Western scientists (E.g., chemistry, physics), Afrikans and other Nonwestern people have discovered and codified the patterns governing our day to day existence and spiritual

development. In other werds, de quality of life, en de destiny of men en nations are ruled  by forces that are as mensurable and subject to codification into immutable laws as are de factors governing physical and chemical phenomena. In de esoteric tradition, the branch of study governing these laws is Cosmology. The embodiment of these laws (moral cannon), against which the actions and beliefs of Man are

weighed/measured, is Maat.

By extension, the term ‘maat’ has several denotations in de everyday language of Kamitic people; straight, rule, law, canon by which the lives of wo/mben is kept straight, real, unalterable (“it, the law has never been altered since the time of Ausar”), upright, righteous, steadfast or consistent. The last correspondence, “steadfast or consistent,” is of extreme importance. In the Kamitic tradition, a person cannot claim that he is living truth if he has not been consistent in the observation of spiritual laws at each and every crossroad situation. This is why it is said, “Today as Yesterday, Tomorrow as Today, is Truth!”….

Maat is generally depicted as a woman holding the Ankh cross, symbol of de heka Aung, in one hand, and de Papyrus sceptre, representing de book of law, in de other. On her head rests the feather—her main symbol—which is de standard against which de will (the heart/ab) of de initiate is weighed. In one pan of the scale is placed the heart, and in the other,

the feather, which symbolises the lightness of truth, that is, the absence of emotional force that characterizes the action of truth. A fact little known to Egyptologists is that in her furrow ( a wrinkle in her face) lays concealed the sceptre of flint which she confers upon the initiate after s/he has been found to be “true of heart” (to have lived ukweli). That it is to be used to kindle de fiya of Ra, is a hint regarding de life-force (kundalini) arousing powah! of living truth. This is the key of the supreme mantra caitanya (mantra awakening) secret that has eluded many yogis for millenniums…..

Sheps & Dark Deceased

….All traditional Afreekan societies possess the knowledge of how to communicate with the deceased. It is very

important to note that although western religions believe in the existence of man’s spirit, and its survival of the body after death, there are no religious or social institutions for communicating with the dead.

The most important outcome from communicating with the deceased is the realization that wo/mban’s true being is not only independent of hir physical body, but de fact that it precedes, and survives de existence of de body. And, finally, it is immortal. Ultimately, a people’s philosophy of maisha (life), and their cultural expression is based on their belief in the mortality or immortality of their essential being…

Spiritual philosophy begins with de understanding of the meaning of life, before and after death, which could only be empirically acquired through communications with de deceased. So great was the empirical revelation of man’s immortality, that the greatest architectural wonders of Kamit were dedicated to the honour of the dead.

No less important was de fact that the ability to communicate with ancestors has enable Afreekans and other non-western people to unite people into kinship groups that transcended the lower and limited ties of blood…It is in this manner, out of a sense of extended blood kinship, that traditional (ie. Not westernised) Afrikan societies with populations numbering in the millions, have been able to maintain law and order without police systems, ideologies, etc.

Although all ancestors have the potential to function as unifiers of the people, not all of them did so. Only such people who lived up to the standards imposed by Tehuti (Tehuti is de Great Sheps in Khemennu) earned the right, and privilege to become Sheps,-the honored living, or honoured dead.

Incidentally, Afreekans have never worshipped ancestors. Ancestral rituals are aimed at establishing communication with egun (ancestors)to enable them to contribute to the direcshun of the nation. Thus we must reject the western concept of ancestor worship.

Ra (pronounced Rau, hence Aur/light, aurum (oro)/gold, aura, auraut/ureus, origin, etc.) is de active state of Nu/Nut, de undifferentiated energy/matter from whence all things, living and non-living  originate. It is known as Chi or Ki in de oriental tradishun, Kundalini in Dravidian India, and de Aur that emanated from de union of Ain and Sophia, according to the Kabalistical tradishun. Although it is not correct to say that Ra is the “sun god,” it is quite correct to relate its functions to the solar energy as the energy/matter basis of all manifestations in our solar system. The planets, including dis earth with its lifeforms, owe their existence to the solar emanations.

As the solar energy, then, is the material, and energy basis for the creashun, and maintenance of life (physical, and metaphysical), the wisdom traditions of Afrika, and the Orient devised ways of manipulating it.  No! They never worshipped it.

What western scholars have interpreted as sun worship are the many practices for cultivating it, replenishing it, diving it’s activities (as it works outside the ken of normal waking consciousness), living in harmony with the rhythmic and cyclical manifestations of its modalities (“air(wood),” “fiya” “earth(metal),” and “wota”)…

remixed hadithi fromThe Truth About Stories, A Native Narrative by Thomas King & The Metu Neter Vol.1, The Great Oracle of Tehuti and the Egyptian System of Spiritual Cultivation ilivyoandikwa na Ra Un Nefer Amen 

 

Back to Afreeka is de future hadithi

Paukwa pakawa…inscriptions have been found in which Isis is associated with the city of Noreia; Noreia today is Neumarkt in Styria (Austria)…worship of de “Black Madonnas” probably begun during de same period. This ‘cult’ still survives in France (Our Lady Underground, or the Black

Madonna of Chartres). It remained so vivid that de Roman Catholic Church finally had to consecrate it.

The very name of the French capital might be explained by the spread of Isis. “The term ‘Parisii’ could well mean ‘Temple of Isis,’ for there was a city with dis name on the banks of de Nile, en the hieroglyph per represents the enclosure of a temple on the Oise.”

The author is referring to the fact that de first  inhabitants of the present site of Paris, who fought against Caesar, bore de name Parisii, for some reasons unknown today. De worship of Isis was evidently quite widespread in France, especially in de Parisian basin; temples of Isis, in western parlance, were everywhere….

De Sabaean god/desses were jus bout de same as Babylonian gods en all belonged to de same Kushite family of Nubian en Phoenician deities….de only triad revered was: venus-sun-moon, as in Babylon….they addressed a direct invocation to de seven planets. De 30-day fasting period already existed, as in Egypt. They prayed seven times each day, with their faces turned toward de north. These prayers to de sun at different hours somewhat resemble Muslim prayers, which take place during de same phases, but which have been reduced by de Prophet to five compulsory prayers “to relieve humanity”; de other 2 prayers are optional.

There were also sacred springs en stones, as in Muslim times: Zenzen,a sacred spring; Kaaba, a sacred stone. De pilgrimage to Mecca already existed. De Kaaba was reputed to have been constructed by Ishmael, son of Abraham en Hagar de Egyptian (a Negro womban), historical ancestor of Mohammed, according to all Arab historians.

As in Egypt, belief in a future life was already prevalent. Ancestors were deified. Thus, all de elements necessary for de blossoming of Islam were in place more than 1,000 years before de birth of Mohammed. Islam would appear as a purification of Sabaeanism by de “Messenger of God.”….kama hadithi ya hawk, de messenger.

According to indigenus [to Kobe island] myths, Hawk is akin to Mercury, de messenger of de god/desses….Wahenga (De Ancients) recognised dis magnificent bird of prey as a messenger bringing tidings to their Earth Walk, the Good Red Road, from de world of de grandfathers en grandmamas who lived before them….

Remember: Hawk has a keen eye en a bold heart, for Hawk flies close to de light of Grandfather Sun….

[remixed hadithi from The African Origin of Civilization – Myth or Reality written by Cheikh Anta Diop and Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams & David Carson]

 

Pan Afrikan Postcards from Kings en Queens

Reclaiming Afreeka for Afrikans – Pan Africanism: 1900 – 1994

[hapo zamani za kale, in de spaces between using revised excerpts art/fully for social change]

…the werd ‘Pan Africanism’ first entered de political lexicon in 1900, when de Trinidadian barrister, Henry Sylvester Williams, then based in London called a

conference of black people to  ‘….protest stealing of lands in colonies, racial discriminashun en deal with all other issues of interest to blacks’.

It was however, in 1919 when de New Afrikan scholar en political activist, Dr. William Edward Burghardt Du Bois, convened what he called de first Pan African Congress in Paris that de Pan Afrikan Congress series, of which de 7th Pan Afrikan congress was a continuation, came into being.

However, while de years 1900 and 1919 can confidently be cited as important reference points for de Pan African movement, de movement stretches much farther into de distant hirstory of our people.

Indeed, the roots of de Pan Afreekan movement can be traced right back to de ravages of de first European slave ships to touch de Afrikan coast…..in this connecshun it is not surprising dat de founders of Pan Afrikanism, as well as some of its leading warriors, have been Afreekans from de diaspora, who are descendants of de millions of Afreekans captured in de transatlantic slave trade…..

The precursors of Pan Afreekanism as we know it today are all de Back to Afrika movements that sprung up in de US, Brazil, and de Caribbean during de early nineteenth century…apart from protesting de conditions of slavery under which they were living, de Back to

Afreeka movement also called for de abolition of colonialism in Afrika. The legendary Marcus Garvey is the most famous of de pioneers of de return to Afrika movement.

Pan Africanism can thus be said to have its origin in de struggles of Afrikan peoples against de enslavement en colonization of their people by extra-Afrikan forces.

Under the unrelenting onslaught of Pan Africanism, especially since de 1945 5^th Pan African Congress of Manchester, most countries on de Afrikan continent ultimately regained their independence. However the regaining of independence did  not end colonialism but only transformed it into neo-colonialism: political independence without economic independence….

From dis perspective therefore Pan Afreekanism is not only linked to de quest for a new social system, but also one in which de development of productive forces is not simply linked to de production of goods but also de creashun of new human beings.

Dis perspective of de transformashun of gender relations, free men, women, Trans  en children of cultural freedom, of harnessing de positiveknowledge of de Afrikan past now forms part of de conception of de struggle for Pan-Afrikan liberation in the 21^st century….

[reposted with overflowing love en respekt from an Introduction to Pan Africanism,

a kitabu edited by Tajudeen Abdul-Raheem]

asante for sharing our true true hadithi  na maisha yako