This is my first blog here. I pondered so much, on what to write. This, being my first time. I did go through almost all other blogs written by a mentor who is also my friend, someone who inspires me and who kindly invited me to contribute blogs here.
I am a poet storyteller/ griot. In my culture, poems are used to tell stories as well as capture events. My culture only began writing in 1944. A week before leaving Uganda for good to come to USA via a short stay in Europe, I went to the elders of our clan to have them place their hands on me (as well as spit in my face as a way of giving me blessings). A goat and chicken were rounded up by very fast running young boys who were charged with slaughter, roasting and serving us. It was a send off as well as an opportunity to have one from our clan "go on yonder to the world." That was also a ritual pact to never forget them! For they sacrificed two prize animals for me.
I am a poet storyteller/ griot. In my culture, poems are used to tell stories as well as capture events. My culture only began writing in 1944. A week before leaving Uganda for good to come to USA via a short stay in Europe, I went to the elders of our clan to have them place their hands on me (as well as spit in my face as a way of giving me blessings). A goat and chicken were rounded up by very fast running young boys who were charged with slaughter, roasting and serving us. It was a send off as well as an opportunity to have one from our clan "go on yonder to the world." That was also a ritual pact to never forget them! For they sacrificed two prize animals for me.
I was now joining a line of long dead ancestors who were skilled hunters, herbalist-botanists, itinerant harp players, cloth traders and metal workers said to have loved adventure and travel. Unlike them, I was travelling with a passport; I cannot smell the wind for water or a predatory animal; the biology skills I have are only good enough to join medical school; I can't even tell my direction by a star; the only hunting I had done was when I was looking for a misplaced shoe, socks, pen or pencil. In other words, I am the early 70's born new kind of black man whose way of life is between that of a Western culture and less of my own culture.
But, I digress. The purpose of my premiere short blog is to tell you about the three important things to me now: America; Blackness; and education. A poem first to that insignia that is distinctly American;
Star Spangled banner in spring
This balmy spring,
Once again,
a welcome moment,
swans swimming in the pond,
the woodpecker,
bang, bang, bang.
An occasional clear sky,
The sun,
a fiery globe,
A puddle here and there,
The snow,
grudgingly giving up its horde.
The banner,
on a lofty perch,
Spread fully,
by a blowing wind,
Dotted glimmering glint,
Of random stars and stripes.
Enjoy!