Friday, 29 April 2016

BeyoncĂ©’s “Love Drought” Video, Slavery and the Story of Igbo Landing

I remember reading in fascination about the Igbo landing in Georgia. Slaves who would rather die that live in captivity.
"For those who don’t know, Igbo Landing is the location of a mass suicide of Igbo slaves that occurred in 1803 on St. Simons Island, Georgia. As the story goes, a group of Igbo slaves revolted and took control of their slave ship, grounded it on an island, and rather than submit to slavery, proceeded to march into the water while singing in Igbo, drowning themselves in turn. They all chose death over slavery. It was an act of mass resistance against the horrors of slavery and became a legend, particularly amongst the Gullah people living near the site of Igbo Landing.  - See more at: http://owning-my-truth.com/post/143569446582/beyonces-lovedrought-video-slavery-igbolanding"



owning-my-truth (also @http://www.mikaelowunna.com) is one of my favourite tumblr bloggers, always dropping very informative nuggets on Igbo culture in the diaspora, writes good articles too. Came across his blog through the excellent article How NOT to use the term POC (2 Step Guide).  I too hate the term People Of Colour with a passion.

http://owning-my-truth.com/post/143569446582/beyonces-lovedrought-video-slavery-igbolanding

TGIF: Books And Kon Remixes!

I've been AWOL for a minute, bills, studies, etc etc etc.  life basically.  but show goes on. tgif beautiful people! read a book




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I am so rocking to Kon mixtape aptly titled Remixes.  The perfect Spring accompaniment (where is the fucking Sun!!!), it's full up of Acid Jazz remixes of joints from N'Dea Davenport to Roy Ayers. Great DJ. 

Turn up the fcukin' volume!



I'm still big into my Acid Jazz, just not been keeping up with the scene.  Gotta find me one of those festivals, get reacquainted.

Tuesday, 12 April 2016

I hate Google b/w Patoranking "My Woman"

Spent Sunday afternoon with my sister on a YouTube marathon, video 'pon video and then some.  Patoranking's track "My Woman, My Everything" got maximum rewind. Bwai can sing and toast fi real!



***

My friend tried to tell me Adrian Lester was the black dude in Balamory, the very popular CBeebies children show.  I'm like whatever, I've spent the last 12 years watching the show with the kids, the black dude is an American guy and definitely not Mr. Lester (what's my boy smoking? he don't even look like him).  He ain't having it so I tell him to Google Balamory black guy.  The first result in the search listing is not what we expected at all.

Man! I hate Google.  Childhood = Blown (well I ain't a child but still holds).

Dude, Rodd Christensen, was the character Spencer in the show and he's from the US.  But beyond that? Some Intel I really don't want to know about








Saturday, 9 April 2016

Sensimilia Thinking

Had an interesting late night of conversations.  You tend to hang out with people you get along with but there's always that friend whose just bare argumentative, more interested in one-upmanship.  I'm always the one in the middle, listening to different point of views, striving to maintain a balanced conversation. Can be tiring at times. The convo could be about football or politics, get overheated about whether new David Bowie was as good as the old, near blows on Jamaicans vs Nigerians. Thank goodness for good quality ganja and the presence of womenfolk. Stoned takes away the edge, no one wanting to misbehave in front of the ladies.


Talking of sensi, My throat just about held up for a few puffs on the joint. I realised I have gotten over smoking, something I never thought I would ever manage.  I watched my guys smoke, joint after joint, the smell of tobacco and weed all around us.  I didn't miss any of it. 


I hadn't smoked sensimilia for so long I was stoned in no time, caught up and lost in some crazy thoughts and memories.  It always makes my mind unearth ish I've forgotten or purposefully buried, especially the erotic sort. Some long ago night of pure lust and deep passionate unbridled sex, faces buried in wet pussy, furious fucking, bodies entangled, moans and screams, my colourful mind filling in blanks (did any of it actually happen?).  I remember a lady who would not have sex unless we had a good smoke first, that was very kooky and trippy.  OK, too much intel.  And then I would remember, in detail, a random conversation with a stranger down to where we were and what they were wearing. Some event from my childhood would come back to me clear as day.  I get why the Rastas meditate to it.


Sunday, 3 April 2016

Colonial Mentality b/w The Warrant Chief

colonial mentality



Fela's legacy remains a very powerful one. It challenged and still challenges to this very day.  Is there a post-?  There is hope but it is a thin sliver.

***

My family, especially my Grandfather, never respected the local chief of our village (its more a town than village these days).  My Grandfather through his father and Grandfather remembered a time we had no chief but a council of Elders, representatives of  the 12 clans of the village.  They debated matters of the day and ruled by consensus, none greater than the other, aligned for the greater good.  Then the British invaders and their traitor African recruits came.  After a number of battles and skirmishes the village fell to the colonist invaders. It was very bloody.  They installed a warrant chief and Christianity.  The council was banished and village rule was directed from the government of then East central Nigeria.

But the war wasn't without its heroes.  The greatest battle was led by a female warrior, Achi horo horo, told to me by my Granddad's brother, Uncle Bennett, may he rest in peace.  I had a secondary school history project to research and I spent a weekend with him in the village.  It's a story I doubt even my own father knew.  Bennett told me many stories over those three days, my 13 year old self in marvel.  It was the first time I had stayed in the village by myself and Uncle Bennett felt it was like a right of passage, that I had to know a few things about the place.  He called me Americana because I still had my English accent (never any use trying to explain the difference to him lol).  Bennett was called a heathen for his non-belief in Christianity.  A lot of people avoided him, believing him to be Dibia (known as Obeah in the Caribbeans), a practitioner of dark magic.  He liked the misconception, said no one troubled him as a result.  Bennett called them confused and brainwashed by the white man.  He followed Ancestral worship and showed me holy historical shrines and burial sites for our family long gone.  Also taught me how to make a fire and roast yam.

My dad says the chieftain is false, a residue from a colonial rule that had no legitimacy, annoys him to bits when there is any celebration and the chief is mentioned.  The Igbo never had a chieftain system.  A few had Kings but their power was tempered by councils.  The travesty was that post independence the system was never properly dismantled.  The new Nigerian government continued in the colonial vein, never keeping the promises to discard colonial institutions (or had the back bone to).