The African Way

I still remember when I was 19 years old,kicking back in an air conditioned movie theater in Southern California and proclaiming to my then future husband(unbeknownest to me),that when I "grew up" I was going to go to Africa and marry an African tribal chief.Laughable and naive maybe, but I have always had a fascination and love for Africa and African people.Maybe its because as a child I grew up with many African Americans and befriended many along the way. In co-existing with my black friends as a young girl,the barriers that might have been in place else where in the world, were no where to be found at my elementary school on the out skirts of Philadelphia.In the early 90's I was listening to Jazzy Jazz and the Funky Bunch,and songs like Tennessee by Arrested Development,and my favorite beat from back in the day, Cool Like That by Digable Planets,Cantaloop Flip Fantasia,by US3,and Scenario by Tribe Called Quest.I developed a love for old school, hip-hop,jazz.
Yes, its all coming back to me now, the black girls at recess were either combing my hair on the concrete steps,using their pics- or in the process of beating me up. I became more a part of their culture then my own white suburban culture, which failed to completely mold me into the custom image of what a white girl should talk about and look like.I felt a little diversified at the tender age of twelve. Until I moved to Mars, Pennsylvania which seemed to lack not only African American influence, but diversity its self.
So getting back to my affair with African culture,obviously I never quite made it to an African village. I always wanted to get involved in mission's to Sudan as well, until I grew up and realized how terribly dangerous and crazy it was to go there. Fear beset me and after missions solely to Asia I let my determination to be a missionary- especially to Africa- go . . . But somebody re-awakened my thoughts of Africa and the suffering there, a few months ago. . .

Last September I went to a show in Portland with my friend Rachael to see Michael Franti, who is a brilliant artist from Oakland, California. Unexpectedly when the opening artist came out I was captivated instantly. I didn't even know his name. All I saw was a very dark skinned man, with a top hat, and beautiful eyes, singing profound lyrics that completely gripped my heart and soul.I caught myself holding my breath as he translated his story to us of life in Somalia. The vivid pictures he painted of the suffering of his people and his life brought me to tears. He was the "dusty foot philosopher", K'naan. He rapped poetry and sang of oppression in a new light, a fresh perspective, set apart from mainstream rappers who sing of their "gangsta" ways. It was clear this man truly knew suffering, and it wasn't about sexual frustration because he couldn't get a girl at a club the night before,or had no money to buy a "grill". No, it was obvious this man had something much deeper to bring to the table. Like children on the streets of Somalia with guns in hand and fear of the pirates that terrorized his land. He sang about immigrating to America in the early 90's and his observations of the American way, compared to the African way. His lyrics brought to shame those that proclaim to be "gangsta" and "ghetto" as he brought to life stories of a truer "ghetto" in Somalia. One in which people are oppressed and violence is a part of every day life. Where people are so thin there is no need for "lypo",and "tummy tucks",as he sings in his song Somalia. In comparison to life in Africa, hard times here seems to be a walk in the park. It's clear that American life appears to be very selfish and ego-centric in light of the suffering overseas.Our children walk around with army men as a toy, but the children in Africa walk around with Ak-47's as a weapon with the power to kill. Our women worry about gaining a few pounds of weight, while their women worry about their next bite to eat.We worry about watering our lawns to keep our grass green, they wonder if they can find clean water to live.I was reminded again to stay in touch with the suffering of the world. K'naan taught me something new, because honestly I wasn't giving Somalia too much thought before I heard him. Now Somalia is in my heart and I am amazed at the beauty of the people and I am ashamed at the selfishness and greed of the average American, and I hope I can live my life set apart from that. Ignorance is not bliss when it comes to the suffering of others.Getting back to the K'naan concert-last night I danced for an hour straight, the bass pulsing through my body and the lyrics of K'naan gripping my heart. I didn't care that I was packed in like a sardine or that the guy next to me was shouting in my ear and blowing clouds of marijuana in my face, I was so thrilled to just to be there. After words while waiting in the bitter cold to get a glimpse of K'naan I actually was able to get on the tour bus and talk to him a little myself. I was the last person to greet him. I passed up the usual handshake and reached out and gave him a huge hug. I thanked him for coming to our country and sharing his stories with us. I thanked him for his music and lyrics and I told him he had made me cry the first time I saw him, I told him I was honored to be there as well. It wasn't that I was merely star-struck. I was just very grateful, that I had the privilege to meet this amazing artist who so intelligently laces words and ideas together, knitting together a beautiful story of overcoming oppression and finding truth and love in the process. I felt that K'naan was a very gentle spirit and humble at that, which only makes me respect him all the more. I will never think of Somalia the same way again and last night was a night I won't soon forget.