Maafa 2010 Reflections

Today was the 15th Maafa Ritual at Ocean Beach. I awoke at 3:15 AM. I set my clock and my cell phone and my mind and woke on time. I still hadn't written my message for this year, after thinking about it before retiring the night before, the catalog for the exhibit Mami Wata: Arts for Water Spirits in Africa and Its Diasporas (currently up at the Cantor Museum at Stanford University) on the bed next to me. I was trying to see how to tie it in--water, black mermaid deity--hum? I also pulled Without Sanctuary: Lynching Photographs in America off the shelf for a little mood music--I didn't even get to the photos; the brutality of whites toward Sam Hose, in Leon F.Litwack's essay, "Hellhounds," stopped me. I just couldn't go on afterwards . . . and so I fell asleep after glancing briefly through Gem of the Ocean, August Wilson's first play in his 100 year history of black America, in ten-year cycles.

Black people are the gems of the ocean.

So there we stood this morning on the west coast recalling our ancestors taken from the west coast of Africa, Dr. Penn said in the guided meditation this morning. I thought about this as I breathed in peace and breathed out rage, eyes shut mind listening to the waves . . . their cleansing spirits washing over me, my hair dripping with their whispers . . . later they caught me unaware and like in the game of catch, I could feel the laughter . . . my feet wet.

The morning was light . . . tide so far out we couldn't see it. We knew it was there and after Sunrise and Ebun and another singer led us in the Maafa chant we made our way over the horizon for the treasure, which was there--just as we'd imagined.

Two visitors--friends of friends from Miami shared wonderful songs for the ancestors--both husband and wife drummers, while Haben's prayer in Amharic was an additional treat.

The drummers were in the house, strapped with djembes and djundjun . . . the egungun and other transcendental spirits were dancing. Our friends from Miami said the Atlantic doesn't dance like Pacific. . . .

Maafa 2010

Maafa Prayer by Mandaza Kandemwa:

In English: God the Creator and all the Holy Spirits of our ancestors: We are here today to offer you your children who are lying and resting in this water. Let your will be done. Thank You.

We meet again. Too many funerals –it would be great to meet on other more joyous occasions—like new births, not the tragic circumstances that bring us here today. However, within the sadness is a joy—because without the great Maafa we wouldn’t be here today, so for that we say Ashay, Amen and Hallelujah!

Maafa is Kiswahili for Great Calamity and reoccurring disaster and is a term used to describe the European Slave Trade or Middle Passage—our Transatlantic Trail of Tears, our Black Holocaust—

The Maafa is connected to Maat or Truth and Reciprocity as well as Sankofa and the Healing aspects of remembrance. We think about the residual psychological effects of slavery when we talk about Maafa and how today we enslave ourselves and allow our children to be enslaved each time one is captured by the judicial system and imprisoned or kidnapped by substance abuse whether that substance is alcohol tobacco, marijuana, crack or the more deadly miseducation.. The world too often plays a major role in our self-identification, thus we make poor choices because we do not employ critical thinking and trace the lies masquerading as truth back to their source—

The nooses are many in the 21st century and freedom is an action word, because the bounty hunters are plenty and when we look in the mirror, they often look like us. Sometimes the duality scholar W.E.B.Dubois spoke of as the “problem of the 21st Century—the color line,” is us. We have to live a conscious life, one where we make good choices—impulsive behaviors are not an option for black people, because there is often no clemency—one mistake and one’s child can face 25 years to life in one of Californians many slave camps or prisons. One mistake and one is dead.

We have to hold onto each other—kids, black children are being kidnapped by sexual predators and sold into sexual slavery, boys and girls, and undocumented immigrants.
On the eve of Indigenous People’s Day, we want to remember the resistance movements waged by our ancestors along with many of the free nations.

The Maafa Commemoration is a time to take stock of our lives and rededicate ourselves to the liberation struggle which is a daily intention fought by the ancestors we come here to honor today.

I was in Haiti twice this year and since the earthquake in January the country still needs to be rebuilt, thousands are still homeless and with the recent storm, it is worse than worse. Haiti is not a third world country like Senegal is a third world country—Haiti looks like here, except there is no infrastructure which means if you have no money then you have no clean water, no place to cook your food and no bed to lie down on—pre and post earthquake. The children are not in school, because school costs money. Sick women can’t afford all their medications and sick children remain ill.

We might have it bad in the Alameda Country, but we do have a Highland Hospital and in San Francisco a General Hospital—in any countries like Haiti, our worse is not close to their best.

We have to count our blessings and make blessings happen by being a blessing to each other whether that is a smile, a helping hand or in-kind support for one of the many institutions we have in our communities set up to make our neighborhoods and streets safe and productive havens for all who live there and if such institutions don’t exist, then we need to start them—call an Mbongi or meeting and see what the community wants, prioritize the list and then set about making the necessary changes.

Remember: FREEDOM is an ACTION WORD.

All photos are: Sara Marie Prada