Compassion (Try Deh)

In the Caribbean there is a saying “lucky Jah (the Creator) nuh stay like man…” This saying has lasted decades, and even centuries in other forms, because of what man has steady proved himself lacking of. Compassion. Compassion is not something that can be faked. It can be felt from 1,000 miles away. It is energy. Compassion is not meant to replace self care. Compassion is not meant as a means of putting blinders on while people abuse you. Sometimes it means walking away from riches. It simply means that one that we are all beneficiaries of the compassion of the Most High. The very moment when u have the potential to place the dagger in someone’s heart, to slay ones spirit with your words, to blow over a shaky vessel with a justified eastern wind, is the moment that it is best to have mercy.  I used to laugh at those teachings as a boy. Now I reflect on how much Divine mercy has been showered upon me, and check myself real quick. Some people, in their arrogance, feel like they are doing others a favor by showing compassion. That’s as silly as people who puff up their own chests, whether privately or publicly, for giving charity. Try deh °

 

Thanks to my parents, my siblings and I grew up with a clear understanding that we are Afrikan. We didn’t have to reach for any “Indian” or other ethnic connections to feel worthy of self love. However, what happened last month has taken us, like many before us, deeper into the cave of self discovery and expression. My birthday in April, but I will now always consider yesterday, March 14th, another birthday, a day I got a gift that everyone else can have as well. That is the day that the patriarchal lineage of our father was revealed, based on the initiative of my baby brother Alaf. I wouldn’t say I was nonchalant about it before,or didn’t really care, but I didn’t place too much deliberate emphasis on the discovery until we actually got the info. What a difference a day makes…like WHOA)))).

The results revealed 100% match to the Bissa or Bissanu people of the region in what is now northern Ghana, Togo and Burkina Faso, known as the “land of incorruptible people.” As it started to sink in, the first thing I did was an honest self test. I had theories of where the results would place Baba’s roots. Burkina Faso was not one of the places for sure.

The self test was to recall how my heart and soul have felt every time I have ever heard or thought about the place. It is said, and I feel that there is a lot of truth to it, that if there are places that really resonate with you, especially without having gone there, it’s probably somewhere you have lived in previous cycle. It’s amazing. I always had a curiosity about that country. Something intrigued me, as have Angola, Congo, Zimbabwe, Ethiopia, Malawi and Tanzania.

Automatially, the dots started connecting. I saw the /word BAMBARA and remembered the carvings that my parents had around the house in Guyana. This was imprinted in me from early. Then I saw that the Bissanu people are peanut farmers. I remembered that peanut shells were one of the main things my mother would have us throw out into the garden along with eggshells and other things for compost. Lol. Fast forward 3 hours, and my wife and I are speaking to my brother and Baba. Baba seemed very cool and calm about the whole thing, until when I told him about the peanut connection, which is when he went into a deep belly laugh.

The keystone connection though, in this age of technology, was the almost frightening resemblance of people my wife found in pics on the web, to my first cousins in Guyana. A few of the pics I had to look four times! I saw my cousin Zo, my cousin Dara, my cousin Allison and so on. Definitely a match.


It makes even more sense why I have such a deep admiration for the martyred Captain Thomas Sankara, the upright man. His story intrigues me, often to the point of tears. The Bissanu are part of the Mande “ethnic group,” who are said to be one of the first from the continent to inhabit the western hemisphere. They are reportedly some of the first mound builders. Makes sense that since my brother Eugene Alala introduced me to agricultural mounds a few years ago, it was one of those connections that words could not describe, a spark which lit a fire in my belly.

MAMA PLANTING MOUNDS

BABA FINISHING YAM MOUNDS

ANCIENT MOUNDS BUILT BY SISTERS AND BROTHERS AT GOOD SHEPHERD AGRO ECOLOGY CENTER IN ATLANTA’s WEST END

Funny, two days before that revelation of the ancestry, some of my friends on social media will recall that a brother who lives in Ghana visited our farm at Truly Living Well. He is a repatriated Afrikan, and something about our very short convo was interesting. Now I realize that he lives among the Bissa people, in the Volta region, and was almost like an advanced scout before that message from my ancestors.

Repatriated Afrikan pictured above with sis Tawhiydah, my former manager, visited the farm 2 days before the revelation of our father’s ancestry. Now I know why the connection was so extra strong. He lives among the people in my father’s ancestral land!

Of course now the research has only begun! My siblings are getting new info every day which is mind blowing. Literally. It blows the dust of ignorance off the mind to get clear info about the specific path your grandmothers and fathers walked before you. We are excited to get more info about my mother’s line. It’s on an poppin, in a SIRUS way. The connections to the Dogon are amazing. One of the only SPECIFIC people that my father ever spoke about repetitively with a personal curiosity is the Dogon. I have always taken that as a clue in my own life, as he us a man of few words, so when he speaks, his words are always of great significance.

The connections are endless, and amazing, and since we all ultimately come from TWO, they serve to help us get closer to the source, instead of bind us into exclusive groups. That was what happened in the scattering of the body. Now is the regathering, and nothing can stop the march home. Home, sweet home. That is a sweet march that may last forever, through space and time.


I don’t do commercials. However, I strongly encourage families to go in, put $20 each, whatever it takes, to get more insight on your lineage. I suggest African Ancestry because it seems to step out of the middle passage paradigm that the Mormon and Jew ish controlled companies are into as it relates to indigenous people. Of COURSE they have some records, because they owned the ships of captivity. As we said earlier, I have, thankfully, always known that I am an Afrikan. That has helped me withstand much of the pressure to conform to alien ways which permeates this society, especially among the indigenous. Knowing the families we come from takes that to a new level, as we now gain even more insight into what and why our everyday tendencies, aspirations and life works are. They were imprinted from the beginning of time. The quest for knowledge of self is a never ending, sweet dive into waters which get nicer and more vibrant the deeper we go.

By | September 9th, 2016|Uncategorized|0 Comments