Let’s travel Black in time.
I was in Gary Indiana a few months ago supporting a good brother and his Capoeira group, RISE Training Academy. It was Kuumba, the day of Kwanzaa that these kinds of things happened at.
Who will become our elders?
Gary gets a bad rap, colloquially. Shit, actually. It’s everything you’d expect out of a medium-sized midwestern city devoured by capitalism in the 80s and still assaulted by it today. Gil Scott Heron said it best; it ain’t no new thang. ‘The Spook Who Sat by the Door’ was shot filmed there. There was a Black Power conference there in the ‘72… We should travel to these places more.
Our entry into the festivities was a side entrance to a ballroom that itself was on the side of a minor-league baseball team. After getting out of the snow, we of course found out that the event was running behind, and that we didn’t quite know when we were coming on to perform. Heron was right again.
Once inside, we quickly saw that there were more grandparents than children. More grandparents than anyone. The young folks looked disengaged, like they all were forced to come. That part was familiar — at the same time, I was reminded of something I think Mumia wrote, ‘If we say our youth are lost, then we must go find them.”
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And I thought, and there they were: a cadre of finders. Elders, still rocking their Dashikis' (the ones before they were popular), playing their djembe’s (and congas!). The sekere always coming with a familiar loving smile from its player. Black Women, still dancing at ages that remind me that the movement is good for all of us. They lovingly became known as ‘The Ase Drummers’, performing live just for us.
There was the book table.
There was the food, made by Black mamas, served by Black children. The elders and children ate first.
I appreciate them, like me, still trying to reach the people. Still trying to teach the people. Still knowing that ‘the people’ is really about connection, communication and activity.
Observation and participation make revolution possible.
And yes, there they were, also, with all of their lateness, and slowness and technology challenges. '
But even as there may be a need for polish, there must be more room for praise.
They the elders, offer something profound if we slow down and trust ourselves; beginning means something different for us. Time means so many different things for us. Time means different things to difference peoples, cultures and eras. States of being on time, in time and with time each have their place. Our relationship to time (and really to togetherness) is so us that even as they extended grace and consideration for our presence and apologized for ‘running behind’, their doing reminded me; fuck a schedule everything they’re attempting is so that we can run, together.
“The youth can walk faster but the elder[s] know the road[s].
Both aspects of time work better together.
Just like we do.
The people are beautiful. The elders are everything. But you should know that already,
I appreciate them. Enjoy the images.
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