Brace yourself, this is going to be a long one…
I woke up this morning with a song in my heart, craving sounds from home. I think it was the rhythm that made the impact most this time round. Now I’m sitting in the Rooke recital hall, with a part of home hugging my surroundings, and guys I can categorically say that I am going to sleep so well, with a part of me healed of course.
Nyatiti -an eight-stringed lyre;
As an East African babe, I can tell you that this reached a depth of soul-sound that I thought I would have to hear in the confines of my personal space, or just in my earpieces, whilst ignoring the rest of world, immersed in a world that is just me and whatever I am listening to… but today I was able to share the sound with my fellow Bucknellians in the recital hall.
Maisha yakiwa magumu, usikate tamaa → even if life is hard, don’t give up.
It’s been a minute since I heard that word in Kiswahili. My ears have been decorated with talks of resilience, which is not so different, but this particular framing carries a softer humanizing experience of not giving up. It could be the rhythm in which it’s told. You see, to me resilience sounds like a word that glorifies and romanticizes grind culture; It is something that you ought to do, feeling like your life is all about production, consumption, survival for the fittest. The “vibe” of this is that while life may get hard, it’s not always the case- hang in there just a little longer. It reminds me that at the end of the day, there will still be a battle to overcome. Live a happy life, work hard and enjoy your blessings, because if you don’t the world will swallow you whole.
She goes on to say: find your passion in life, something that brings you joy. In my time at Bucknell, I have felt like I had to sacrifice my joy to fulfill my passions, thinking that they are mutually exclusive as if there isn’t a point in time where they resonate at the same frequency. This continues until you reach moments in your life where you say “I actually really like this” (heavy emphasis on the actually). This is something I have noticed in my experience of being an African in the diaspora, at least the first few years: we dim our light to survive and only show this part of ourselves in a safe space.
She segues into performing with a Bucknell Band, and sings with KJ and Junior.. this is what I imagine clubbing for my older aunties was like…
It’s the kind of music that helps you release the tension in your face, makes you breathe a little slower. It’s the kind of music I associate with nice home cooked meals, and a funny story of back in my days. She talks of Love flow and now I know why most aunties do that. In that regard I am happy to be a small aunty. Mama C embodies the word aunty. And before you beef with me, not those aunties you jump through hoops to avoid; She’s the aunty you wish you had. This is evident in her vibe, the gold jewelry, the face paint and the dramatic earrings – she is unapologetic in her existence, in spaces that have tried their hardest to put her down.
She shares her experience through storytelling:
“Being a good, and gentle character” She tells the story of her Black Panther years — emphasizing the joy in community, doing your best to bring liberation to your people, honoring ancestors, and living with good and gentle character, all of which deserve a decolonial lens. Sankofa: Go back to go forward. “You are my brother or sister until you show me otherwise.
She also says you need to lose yourself to find yourself, and I say, go as far away from what you know to know what you’re becoming.
And this my friends, is BLACK JOY 😘.
-Holiness Kerandi