Remembering the Ancestors June 10, 9 a.m. PT
Saturday, the weather was chilly...especially near the ocean where the tide was out, at least it was out before we gathered at its mouth to pour libations. With waves roaring in our ears, we recalled the multiple blessings available to us just because others had made this reality possible. In a tight circle we embraced those ideas, as feelings swelled and overflowed, salty like the mist dusting our cheeks, kissing our lips, swallowing our worries with health and well-being.
It was a special gathering for Minister Lezell Williams, as he's moving to Mississippi next month and will not be here in October for the Maafa ritual. For others like Little P, at four months he didn't relish leaving the warmth of daddy's car.
Folks traveled from Vallejo for the ritual. Jason was so excited he was at the beach hours before. Baba Thompson also arrived early -- couldn't find us, so he and his guest wandered over to the Sutro Baths where they saw a barge passing which reminded them of what it might have been like to have had a vessel docking with precious Africans aboard.
I spoke to Brother Osei the next day in North Carolina. He said this had been one of the larger Remembrances they'd had to date.
In Myrtle Beach the tide was high, swift, the water cold. That evening at the Katherine Dunham birthday celebration we poured libations again.
Instead of a prayer, Boundless Gratitude sang. After we'd tossed flowers on the watery graves with prayers and blessings, we ended the ceremony with our Maafa Song.
Maafa, we remember you
The Middle Passage and all that we've been through
We're Still Here
Lest we forget
We look to the sky and cry "why?"
copyright: Brother Clint