Brother Khalil Shaheed has made his transition, March 23, 2012. My condolences to the family of a beautiful man, father, husband, brother, mentor and teacher to many. A mu'min or believer, his entry into paradise is guaranteed, yet despite this he will be missed for many things, among them: his upright character, humility and kindness. He is no longer suffering. I can't imagine what his family suffered along with him as they watch him slowly leave them.
I had Khalil on my radio show often and wrote about his work with Oaktown Jazz Workshop for decades. The last time I saw him in performance was at the Poetry, Art and Music event 2011 at the Garden Center in Oakland's Lake Merritt Park. He was with the Brass ensemble. They were great!
I remember sharing a booth with him one evening at Yoshi's, I don't remember the artist. Another time, he and his daughter Savannah (drummer) were at a concert at Zellerbach. I think Terrence Blanchard was performing on a double bill with another ensemble.
Khalil produced great music events, such as the concert series at the new park at the Port of Oakland. Hugh Masekela was on the bill, year one. The series at Sweets Ballroom were sweet, great music and a great time. It's too bad profit was always a measure of success, and so like the huge outdoor concerts, they too ended.
His jam sessions at various clubs in Jack London Square were legendary, as were the ensembles: Big Belly Blues with Ed Kelly, the Out Band with Angela Wellman and others who could play unscripted music, Mo'Rockin with Yassir Chadley, Glen Pearson and others. He was one of the first musicians to feature women jazz artists in his ensembles.
The musical collaborations with Deborah Vaughn and Dimensions Dance Theatre were also legendary, as was Oaktown's work with the Michael Morgan and the East Bay Symphony and the presenters of yearly Martin King event first held at First Congregational Church, "In the Name of Love," later at Calvin Simmons Theatre, then Scottish Rite Temple in Oakland.
He brought live jazz to the Muslim community in East Oakland at several concerts at the Elijah Muhammad Cultural Center. The free clinics Oaktown hosted at Yoshi's for kids with visiting musicians was legendary as were the annual fundraisers where the children performed, alumni presented as well as their teachers, Khalil among them. I remember when dreams for the Oaktown Jazz Club where artists of all ages could perform in a nonalcoholic venue, a place family friendly, became a reality after OTJW's long sojourn at Diamond Park. OTJW was like the University of California at Berkeley's Young Musicians Program in the 'hood, not that scholarship was sacrificed, but the kids who needed the music more critically could walk rather than hop BART to make immediate contact and connection with a man and a vision which spanned the range of what is possible.
We never spoke of his personal transformation. I don't know why. I think he said at one point when I inquired that he wanted to downplay that aspect of his history: his sojourn in prison, his battles with substance abuse, his conversion to Al Islam. I recognized his tireless work with the youth as if his time was limited and he had a lot to accomplish in too short a time. I wish we had explored this part of his story, it would have been instructive for other former felons who didn't know forgiveness was possible or that second chances were a reality especially for those who wanted to work with youth.
I thought his blended family was a model of tolerance and love, that is, his immediate family with his two lovely children, wife-- the lovely artist and university administrator, Kate, and co-parent, scholar and musician, Fred Harris.
I didn't see him once the disease began to take its toll. Every time I saw him, he looked a bit thinner in the end, but healthy. Last year when I participated with his wife, Kate, in a healing ritual hosted by the City of Oakland, traditional African healer, Sobunfu Some officiating, Kate said, her husband was dying and she was trying to help him let go.
I have lost so many friends and hear of others who are making their final rounds as I write this, but well . . . sometimes one's relationship with a person is not close, so one cannot give final farewells, whisper thank you into their ears. One just hopes the dearly departing one knows he or she is loved and that the embrace is larger than those in the death chamber holding him or her safe, especially for people like Khalil Shaheed whose impact is immeasurable both nationally and globally.
Khalil Shaheed.
Another star has fallen. . . the sky is a bit darker for its absence, the day less brighter at dawn.
In Islam we believe that when some one leaves us physically that they are not really gone. Sweet Honey sings about this as well in their song, "Breaths" where they caution us to listen more closely to "things than to beings," that "those who have died, have never really left; the dead have a pact with the living."
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
Those who have died have never, never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustling trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass
They are in the moaning rocks
The dead are not under the earth
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah -- wsh Ah -- wsh
Those who have did have never, never left
The dead have a pact with the living
They are in the woman’s breast
They are in the wailing child
They are with us in our homes
They are with us in this crowd
The dead have a pact with the living
Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
Tis’ the ancestors’ breath
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis’ the ancestor’s breath
In the voice of the waters
Of course, the comfort of the person's physical presence is no longer with us. Khalil's touch is a memory, his voice a recording we hear when our heart stops heaving. . . .
Peace and Blessings Khalil Shaheed, may your soul's journey continue, your reward secure. Ashay. Amen. And so it is.
John Santos wrote a beautiful tribute to Khalil, which I am sharing here.
