A Song For Mama

I have a concept that sorta’ drives me. This concept is called Black Improvement. It’s an Improvement Movement where people of African descent focus solely on Improvement. I’ve often wondered how our country might have evolved if instead of focusing on being equal with other Americans, Blacks focused upon improvement in all areas which may have included Civil Rights. It is through this movement that I’ll approach my offerings:

Recently my children and I surprised their mother by creating a song, and subsequently creating a video about their Mama. Using the crazy group name 'Grandpa Crunk’ we’ve released the song “I Love My Mama” online on I-Tunes and released the video on YouTube. The song is a combination of rap verses by my children and a chorus sung by my friend Zoe Wilks. The process of writing the song, creating the music, practicing the song, recording the song, writing the storyline for the video, and shooting the video was a great joy. I had a chance to force my children to focus their creative juices on celebrating their mother. One of the lines of the song is “When I’m in doubt you tell me I can do, when I look at you (mother) I kinda’ see God too.” I’ve often told my children that in addition to being a word referring to the Supreme being, GOD can also refer to Good Orderly Direction. Later my children and I re-released the song using the group name DIVAGirl as my lil' girl has decided she wants to become a Disney star.

Many of the African-centered scholars and lecturers that I used to follow in the 1980s through the early 2000s used to urge blacks to guide their children in business ventures early on the provide them with a business background which will result in Blacks becoming and acting in a more business-like manner. The rationale at that time was to create ‘Black Owned’ businesses to employ our children to reduce the influence of the streets on our children and to eradicate the experience of poverty from the Black experience. These lecturers also described using a process of meeting with the elders in our communities to learn the stories of our people forcing America to become a better place. Those stories from the elders and being involved in business activities, according to these scholars, would give our children a launching path towards success. My parents heeded their call to action and involved our family in the recordings of oral history from elders in the community during my youth in New York and Ohio.

My choice to guide my children in this ‘Song for Mama’ adventure was done to celebrate their mother, to teach them about aspects of the business of the music industry, and to lead them through the process of making a commercially viable good that they might profit from . One of the things I didn’t expect were the discussions about the lyrics which centered on the Good Orderly Direction towards improvement that children should learn from their mothers. My children were emphatic in the inclusion of Aunties, Grandmothers, Church mothers, and teachers in their song as these women also taught Good Orderly Direction.

11/21/2011 - We began our 2011 Spring break trip by dropping off my widowed mother (Mum) at her family’s home in Atlanta Georgia. As we traveled from Hampton Roads to Georgia my Mum and I spoke to keep me awake at the wheel. Her stories included the struggles her mother while she was a child growing up in Georgia in the early 1940s through late 1960s. En-route to Atlanta I realized that we would be in proximity of Decatur where Mum attended and graduated from theological school in 1966. She attended Columbia and according to my father, who became our ancestor in September 2009, Mum was the first Black to graduate from Columbia Theological. As a side trip I decided to visit Columbia’s campus. Mum stated years ago that she never intended to step foot on the campus again after she graduated. Since 40-some years have passed I thought it might be fun to do an impromptu campus tour to obtain some photos of Mum on her ol’ stomping grounds.
On 11/13/2007 Dad needed to go to the conference office to teach a class for the newest ministers in the Southern Conference of the United Church of Christ. While driving those sleepy country Suffolk Virginia roads dad began drifting into stories of Mama. Pops met mom as he returned from ministering in Scotland. A minister supervising him shared to pops "when you return to the states and go to Atlanta I want you to meet a friend of mine who is in the administration at Columbia (Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur Georgia). They took in their first female Negro student and they need help."
One of Mom's Ministers and mentors was the first Negro male to attend the school a few years prior. He did not graduate from the school and only was able to take a few classes. Pops then shared how Mom was that female “Negro graduate” and she caught hell from the other students studying to be ministers. This administrator and the administration of the school were courageous..... they courted this negro after her Presbyterian church-college, Agnes Scott College, refused to take her (since they sent their negro-money to Stillman College to help their Negro Presbyterians). Pops shared how mama would sometimes be the only student in her classes as others peers would drop the course as soon as they saw her. By providing support to this hard-headed girl catching death threats and harassment from her 'Christian' peers Dad fell in love. He was there as my grandmother lost jobs when they found out mom was marching in the civil rights marches and was going to their school. Mom took the pain, cried her tears, passed the tests, and graduated. Mom shared with me that she caught Hell from the 'Christian' professors and her 'Christian' peers because she was both a woman and Black. She shared how the only outright support came from the ladies who were attending the college as they were facing the evils of sexism. Some of the professors hated the fact that women were being trained in the ministry. Mom was leery of the women, but she accepted their support.


A female "white-peer" who supported Mom painted a masterpiece full of color with many faces looking forward. Those eyes were said to be Mom's classmates as her female peer explained to her. Interestingly enough Mom's classmate painted the faces of the evil eye folks brown. I remember seeing this painting hanging in the basement-closet of our home in New York. I always wondered why a painting would be hanging in a closet. I remember seeing this painting in our garage while living in Columbus, Ohio. I always wondered why Mom would look at this work of art and stiffen her bottom lip with tears welling in her sleep deprived eyes. I remember getting a ‘whupping’ for something I did and shouldn’t have done and mom catching a glimpse of those brightly-wicked eyes. She fell to her knees and sobbed. Then I didn't care, my beating ceased. Mom hated that painting and gave it to an aunt who hung in prominently in her college dormitory. Mama's pain, Aunties' propeller. I am thankful for those eyes and the experience it provided. Mom made history and opened doors for our people. Mom became the first Black and the first Black Woman to graduate from Columbia Theological Seminary...Daddy fell in love. Thank the creator.

Today we slowly walked around the college and allowed Mum to reminisce about her classes and the times she spent as a grad student on the campus. A bulk of her time on campus was spent solely in the classes. She left campus as soon as her classes were over as she didn’t feel brave enough to try to force herself into the school’s social life, and also felt anger towards her classmates and the school staff for the behaviors they exhibited towards her. Mom looked radiant and discussed painful memories in a very triumphant manner. Columbia was a great college who took a difficult stand against racism and sexism in the late 1960s. She shared the triumph with the administration who courted her attendance, supported her stay by finding a support for her who ultimately became her husband of over 45 years, and aided to find financial support to aid her way. She also felt humbled that she was a great part of the history of the school.

A young white female student stopped and asked if she could help us by taking a photo of the entire family. As she raised my camera to her eyes my wife noted Mum’s history. The student stopped and thanked Mum for being for her bravery and heroism. She then stopped all of the students who walked by and shared the story making Mum a Rock Star Alumnae. Mum reveled in the reverence and smiled in a deep manner that has been fairly absent since my father’s death. My children danced and smiled for the photos and shared how their grandmother was like Rosa Parks and Ruby Bridges for aiding America to move in ‘Good Orderly Direction’ towards improvement.

Unexpectedly I realized that my father and those African centered lecturers were right; Every Black child should know of and revel in their family’s history of improvement. Every Black child should be involved in the creation of commercially viable and valuable products.


As the photos continued my Lil’ girl began humming the tune to her song “I Love My Mama” as she and her brother hugged their grandmother, my Mama. I extend those hugs and the song to all of the mothers who have been an intricate player in the improvement of America, and the improvement of Blacks. To you mothers we say Thank you. To you mothers we sing “I Love My Mama”! This song is for you. Be Improved Ya’ll !

......................................................................................................................................

Red, Black, Light, and White.

#3. Red, Black, Light, and White.

Three years ago the 2008-2009 school year entered a new dimension into the lives of a father................ Race.

Soulful of terms regarding Black complexion:
Light Skinded’/Red-bone/Yellow: (Mariah Carey, Alicia Keys to Halle Berry)
Red/Caramel: (Halle Berry, Queen Latifah, to Oprah)
Black/Ebony/Dark Skin: (Oprah too Wesley Snipes & beyond)

Flashback to the beginning of the school year in 2008. While eating lunch with my daughter she laughed with a peer sitting nearby saying “She's red”. She then looked at me and said "You and me are Red, Mommy is Black." I looked puzzled until a light-skinned boy who sat across from us said "I'm Red too !" The daughter looked at the peer smiling and said to me "Yep Daddy ! He's Red like Bebe (my light-skinned mother). My lil' mama is now race-conscious.

It's been interesting with lil' mama in public school as my son takes in everything but shares very little. Lil' man will tell you only the most interesting things that he experiences, while lil' mama' gives a full narrative. In example: The son: "Lunch was cool, I didn't get in trouble, I ate my veggies (Political talk: He ate a few of his veggies)." The daughter: "Ohh Daddy. We had hot-dogs, beans, and broccoli. I ate everything except for the fruit. I didn't have time to eat Daddy. So-and-so kept talking and our table moved from Green to Yellow. I told her to stop and she stuck her tongue out at me. I loved the hot dog. I added ketchup to it and ate it while the rest of the class was sitting down since I was at the front of the line".........and so on, and so on, and so on. So now the Wifey and I have a chance to really find out what's happening at their school.

Lil' man really didn't speak about racial differences when he was a first grade. Lil' mama, our current first grader, speaks about race in a very cavalier manner. This year's campaign of Senator Obama has made race a very interesting topic lately. Lil' man became intrigued with Obama towards the end of last year. "There has never been a Black President Dad?", "Why were people mean to Blacks and Dr. King Dad?", "If Barack has a White mother why does he look like he is Black ?" Now Lil' mama is asking about a lot of people. "What is she daddy ? Is he Chinese ? Are they Indian, do they live in Tee-Pees ?"

Lil' man is now noticing how many Soul-folk (people of color) are in a room as he enters the room. However, it's a little different than when I was younger. He thinks that it's cool to be Black "but it really doesn't matter Dad. Everyone is cool to me." I used to feel somewhat of an outsider as frequently I was raised in situations that were either primarily White frequently or primarily Black infrequently. I remember a friend named Brian who was a next-door neighbor cursing at me saying "It's all your fault Ni##er ! My family gotta' move all because you and the rest of your Coons moved in." I remember crying to my third grade teacher (who routinely greeted all her students except for me with a ‘Good Morning”) saying "I feel all alone, I'm the only Christian in this Catholic school classroom." Without physically consoling me she said "Are you sure you are worried about that ?......We all love Jesus, and Jesus loves us all. Go back into the classroom and stop crying." I wasn't really worried about the Christian/Catholic thing. She knew it. I knew it. Kids wouldn't get near me saying that I had a special strain of cooties.....Ni##er Cooties. I then began a campaign to get my parents to remove me from the "costly" Catholic school to the "Free" public school so I could meet and matriculate with the Soulful neighbors who began to invade our Columbus Ohio neighborhood. I needed back-up. As a child I always looked for a Black looking face so I wouldn't feel alone, I felt the need for back-up. I was one of the only Black kids in the Columbus Boys Choir, I was the only Black kid in my mother's preferred church and was always in great demand for the Christmas play. They always held a special part in the play....... I was the Black King who visited the Christ-child. The year I tried out for the part of Joseph I caught peer-related hell. It's funny that I caught hell since the part of Mary that year (of one of the years I was the King) was played by a very light skinned girl who later became my best friend. She now has changed her racial designation from African-American/Black to American Indian (with some African ancestry). I was too dark to be Joseph, she was o.k. to be Mary as maybe no one would know the difference. I can't remove the fact that her mother was a very powerful member of that primarily-white congregation and I was a frequent visitor. She also earned the part as an active member of the youth group, and I may have been seen as a radical. I remember Dawn-telling me in one of our conversations that people always expected me to join the Nation of Islam and how many people related me to Michael from Good Times who was the "radical" in the television show family. My son’s quip showed how much our country has changed - “It really doesn't matter Dad. Everyone is cool to me." He thinks that counting the Soul-folk in a room is a novelty. When I counted, I counted because I felt alone. Times have really changed for the better.

Raising children in today's America is different. I can't and won't give them my anger towards the racism I felt. I temper my statement that involve race to ensure that my scars are not passed on. I do imbue them with a love for their African, Indian, and European ancestry. I do imbue them with a love for African culture, an interest in the struggles and achievements of (so-called) Africans throughout the world, the historic accomplishments of (so-called) Indians and a love for the coolness of being Black. It's a little difficult when we discuss and watch movies such as Ruby Bridges, Dr. King videos, and when we recently saw The Express. Lil' mama has repeatedly asked "Why are they being so mean to them ?" while the Lil' man has heard me say my scripted statement "There was a time in America when unfair things happened to people of African ancestry. That time is over and ended a long time ago" so many times that he can almost say it with me.

This is a new America (USA). This is a new time. My children embrace the Red-Black-& Green as well as the Red-White-& Blue and don't see a problem. This is a good time. Be improved Ya’ll.

Seko

Originally posted on Daddy VArner
http://daddyvarner.blogspot.com/2008/10/red-black-light-and-white.html

Get rid of the weight (Every Black child should be taught)

#2. Get rid of the weight.

I’m grappling with a concept called Black Improvement. America has had a civil rights movement, a women’s suffrage movement, and now we are having a bit of a Tea Party Movement. I fancy a Black Improvement Movement where people of African descent focus solely on Improvement. I’ve often wondered how our country might have evolved if instead of focusing on being equal with other Americans, Blacks focused upon improvement in all areas which may have included Civil Rights. It is through this movement that I approach these writings. Be improved Ya’ll.

Somewhere in 2007 Drew M., a White (and I say that to provide a visual) minister who is currently around 69 (Pops would have been 74 this year) shared with me some information about my Dad that I didn't know. He stated "Your Dad is a phenomenal man, he has done things that others are still scared to do. He deserves a lot of recognition. He then says "We were in a meeting and he shared with us that Dr. King (The Honorable Dr. Martin Luther King) told my father in a meeting "You'll have to get rid of your hate for White people to do your job." Dad then reportedly shared in this meeting with Drew other things he did during the Civil Rights era involving racial reconciliation. Drew shared how he admired how my Dad, and other Blacks, rose above the problems of that time to act in a manner exemplified by Yeshua (Jesus). As a child I used to wonder how my parent's and ancestors lived under the suffocating veil of evil White supremacy without wanting to kill every White person in sight. As mad as I would become after hearing their stories I still couldn't hate Whites because my parents wouldn't allow that. They taught me to love Black and love White and everything in between. A lady once set Pops' hair on fire when he rooted for the other team at a football game. The Blancos (White folks) around him wouldn't let him put out the fire nor retaliate against the witch. How could he be so loving after facing so much hate... He attributed it to "a relationship with Christ"... I thought that he and Christ were both crazy. He redirected, saying that the hate I felt was legitimate, valid, and was so heavy that I’d pay the price in missed opportunity.

In September 2009 my Father embraced his last earthly breath, leaving our family and friends to continue his legacy of love. One of Dad’s most memorable lessons to me dealt with the weight of Hate. Dad shared that while ‘Hate’ can be an excellent motivator, the weight of hate often restrains advancement.


On my mantle is a photo of two of my greatest ancestors - my Dad his good friend..........Baseball legend Jackie Robinson. I remember coming home from school after learning about Jackie Robinson in school and telling Dad and Mom I want to play Baseball like Jackie Robinson. Dad said something to the effect of "Jackie used to throw balls at you when you were a baby." Dad then pulled Jackie Robinson's book off of his bookshelf and showed me a signature from Jackie with comments that could only be made from people who are close. Dad used to minister to Jackie Robinson's family and was even referenced in the book's "Thank You's". This picture still makes me shiver. Two men who both shaped and changed the world I live in. Two men who faced the cruelty of America squarely in the face and 'showed love' in response to hate. Dad and Mom raised us in a rather Afro-Centric environment, yet never showed a disdain for anyone. We were taught to love Africa and America. I still get looks of surprise when I often end prayers with my kids by saying "GOD bless Africa, GOD bless America, GOD bless everybody." GOD bless everybody.... Even those I want to hate. When Dad spoke of people he hated he spoke of Blacks who were racial betrayers. Dad is chock full of stories where White-folks did incredibly devilish acts of hatred to him, yet he only hated when 'we' didn't achieve, when 'we' hurt each-other, when 'we' failed to improve our station in life, when 'we' didn't appreciate ourselves as our hate for our enemies and oppressors became a weight on our advancement.

My family had a Christmas tradition of going to the movies after a Holy-Day meal. Growing up in Brooklyn New York, later in Columbus Ohio, and finally here in Hampton Roads Virginia my family and I would enjoy a morning of worship, a filling meal, and top the night off with a movie of my Mother’s choosing. These last two Christmas Days have been too emotionally heavy to carry-on the tradition. On Christmas in 2007 the Wifey’ and I joined my parents. Tonight we viewed "The Great Debaters". T'was great seeing this movie with Denzel holding-down the main character, who in real-life was a member of Omega Psi Phi ! (Dad and I are both Omega Men, Dad now rests in Omegas in the sky.) Scenes of a tar-and-feathered lynching and a few other scenes of racism hit my parents hard. Pops had watched a lynch mob lynch-kill an uncle, and Pops and his Dad also cut down about five other neighbors who were lynched in Opelika Alabama. Mum was touched by the overall feelings involved in the movie and wept for about twenty minutes after giving a rousing ovation at the end of the film. Strangers walked up and gave her hugs and initially left me wondering if I were doing enough to console her. I later realized that they shared her pain, and wanted to share the joys and pains the movie highlighted.


The Wifey remained with my Mum, allowing ‘Mum’ to regain emotional composure while I enjoyed walking with Pops out to his car. En-route, Dad recounted a story of an English teacher, a white professor, who played tennis with him weekly at 5:00 in the morning. The word circulated about this white female professor who was meeting with a negro boy most every morning and the college president made a general announcement that any interactions with white professors in that capacity due to the danger it posed to fellow Livingston College students. In 1957 we were still getting lynched, Pops said. The situation became news when a bread company that delivered bread to the campus threatened that if my Pops continued playing tennis with the professor, they would stop delivering bread to the campus. The professor responded by writing a letter to the bread company complaining if they were going to boycott by refusing to serve a Black college because of the Black student, they should also boycott a White college as the professor was white.

The big thing, Pops shared, was that the professor was teaching him English during the tennis games. He was failing English horribly and the professor decided to take extra time with my Pops who didn't have an adequate English class in his high-school. Pops reportedly took a class for four years that would currently equate to Freshman English 101. He learned standard English speaking patterns and nuances while conversing with a professor who needed someone to aid her in staying in shape and keeping her tennis skills sharp. What a trade. Dad noted that once the games ended, he had a hard time in English......but he remained academically alive. Times were hard, but he lived the life that was given him, and played the games life gave him. Too many of his peers, however, were too angry with my Dad and also towards the Bread company to support the civil unrest needed to combat the situation. Later the college eventually caved to the idiotic demands of the Bread company.

Pops is so proud of the accomplishments of his generation. It pains me now when looking at my peers who really don't care. When the torch of advancement was passed to a new generation, too many of us weren’t able to leap and grasp the torch as our weights held us firmly grounded in hate.

Erykah Badu has a tune named Bag Lady. In the tune she paints a picture of how the weight of problems, such as hate, holds people back. “You gone hurt your back, dragging all them bags like that.” Take her advice. Get rid of the weight....Be improved……

Seko VArner

Seko Varner is the current President of the Imani Foundation of Virginia, a local cultural organization. Seko has a background in special event entertainment, youth and family counseling, special education, and is currently involved in financial planning and real estate. He lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia with his wife and two children. He may be reached by visiting http://showthemtheworld.blogspot.com/ .

The Diaspora (Every Black Child should be taught)

#1. We are one (The Diaspora)
I have a concept that sorta’ drives me. This concept is called Black Improvement which I consider a bit of a movement. America has had a civil rights movement, a women’s suffrage movement, and now we are having a bit of a Tea Party Movement. I fancy a Black Improvement Movement where people of African descent focus solely on Improvement. This movement would differ from the Civil Rights movement as that movement was focused upon ensuring that all Americans enjoyed the same civil rights that our country claimed to extend to Americans. I’ve often wondered how our country might have evolved if instead of focusing on being equal with other Americans, Blacks focused upon improvement in all areas which may have included Civil Rights. It is through this movement that I’ll approach my offerings. Broadcasting from the top of the Black Improvement Movement Tower located in middle America, here are things that every Black child should be taught:

The Diaspora. The African diaspora is the spread of people of African descent throughout the known world. People of African descent, or Black People, have truly touched most of the world in times ancient and current. If you have a child of African descent, teach them of our worldwide presence. As a teacher in Portsmouth Virginia (Circa 1995) a student asked me one day “Why do the Jamaicans’ on the music video look like they are Black people ? Is Shabba Ranks Black ?” Similarly in 2002 it has been rumored that American President George Bush asked the Brazilian President Fernando Henrique Cardoso “Do you have Blacks too?” and was reportedly advised by Condeleeza Rice that "Mr. President, Brazil probably has more blacks than the USA. Some say it's the country with the most blacks outside Africa." A similar things occurred to me when I shared photos of my 2006 trip to Puerto Rico with a friend’s child who saw photos and asked “Why are there Black people in the photo ?”

Without pushing a superiority or inferiority agenda I believe that Black children should be exposed to the beauty of our diaspora. Our ancient and current presence can be found throughout America; North America, Central America, and South America. Our ancient and current presence can be found in Eurpoe, Asia, and of course Africa. African people have contributed to the development of many cultures and cultural practices and flavors. I have pushed the agenda of knowing the diaspora in my interactions with youth for the last 15 years. I firmly believed that this understanding of our diaspora will aid our children to increase their world view, and to dream bigger than their circumstances. My son has taught me that this understanding will also reinforce what Frankie Beverly and Maze has taught forever: We are one.

In December 2007 I asked my kids (to initiate our Kwanzaa celebration) "What do you know about Kwanzaa ?" My daughter stated "The Red is for STRUGGLE, the Black is for PEOPLE, the Green is for HOPE." That's not completely the descriptions that the U.S. organization provided, yet that is what I have chosen to teach my kids. I didn't diverge from the truth, I removed some terms that may separate us from our peers. My wife greeted them with "Habri Gani" and my son said "Que Paso" (a loose translation into soulful-spanish). Then he and my daughter both said Umoja. Umoja being the principle of today prompted the question "What is Unity ?" My Son-sun answered that Unity is everything being stuck together and becoming like one. He then explained how the entire world is connected by touching. He said "The chair is touching the floor that's touching the wall that's touching the piano, that's touching the wall that's touching the painting. Everything in the world is touching something and we are all connected. As I searched for the exception to his rule I couldn't find one on a non-sub-atomic level. We are all touching each other in some way. We are all touched and effected by tragedies, and we are all touched by the breath of life. We are all touched by STRUGGLES. We are all touched by other PEOPLE. We are all touched by seeing others operate in HOPE.

I don't celebrate Ramadan but I've been touched by the words and actions of the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan. I'm not Jewish, maybe I'm Hebrew (I'm sure some are not gonna' understand that), but I've been touched by my beloved friends of Temple Beth El who are Biblical Jews (Israelites) as opposed to Rabbinical Jews. I'm constantly touched by Donnie D. who hosted "The Big Idea" on CNBC (One of my all time favorite shows and stations). As a child, every Chanaunach in New York (1968 - 1976) was spent with my parent's dear friends the Gluckmans (Rabbi Emeritus Donald N. Gluckman and family) who allowed me to get drunk on wine as a two year old at one of their celebrations when all the adults failed to notice that a little boy was drinking after everyone. I'm a Conscious-Christian and I've been touched by Christian people and groups who terrorized my family/ancestors with "Accept Christ or die" and the Trail of Tears, and the Klu Klux Klan (yes, they were a Christian group) as well as being loved, touched by, and prayed for by Christian absolute strangers who saw a frown on my face as I struggled with something in life. I never could think of anything to debunk my son's theory. As I considered the origins of mankind I began singing a Frankie Beverly and Maze tune..... "We are one."

My sons' simple observation was truly profound. We are one. May we remain one. May we exemplify oneness. Teach your children about our diaspora and reinforce the concept that we are one. Teach them about the African presence and influences in all three of the major world religions. Teach them the African presence and influences in a great deal of popular music. Teach them the African presence and influences in popular foods. Teach them worldwide Black History. Aid them to see creativity, victory, and life lessons from all over the globe, with people of African descent as the primary teachers.

One love yall'.
Seko VArner

April 2000 Seko in Panama

Seko VArner's video footage from a trip to Panama in April of 2000. Seko traveled to the country of Panama with Tamaris & Edilberto, friends who formerly lived in Panama City and in Colon Panama. Seko's trip was for pleasure and to view the African presence in Panama (one of Seko's hobies is studying the African presence in various areas of the world).
This was a trip I couldn't wait to do. I tried to go to visit Cuba in 1999 with AfroPop until the U.S. goverment shut me down. I really needed to visit Latin America as I had studied so much about my ancesteral connections (African & Indian) in Latin America. In early 1998 I completed a photo exhibit called "Mi Gente (My people)... The African Presence in Latin America." In late 1999 I met Fulo (Edilberto Galvan from Colon Panama) and we started hanging out. Fulo was a Spanish instructor in Portsmouth Virginia and I was a counselor in Portsmuth. It turned out that we were both attending Hampton University at the same time in the 1980s. Tammy studied at Norfolk State University and was also originally from Panama. Fulo enjoyed my exhibit and allowed it in his classroom. Fulo and I also both were DJs and we used to hang-out at the various Latino night clubs in Virginia.
During the trip I was able to eat Panamanian food, learned that the Panamanian version of the N-word was the word "Chumbo", and completly soaked in the beautiful culture of Panama. One thing I did note is that the Panamanians of African descent didn't outwardly value thier African heritage as much as we "African-Americans" outwardly do. This presence was mostly obvious in Colon and pretty much hidden in all other parts of the cultural melting pot of Panama. This was a great trip. I plan to make Panama my second home. Here are a few videos from my trip......

The second installment in my 2000 trip to the lovely country of Panama. On this day I traveled to Colon and witnessed Carnivalito in Colon. I became so excited that I left my Panamanian friends and dissapeared for hours capturing video and taking photos. In this area of Panama I was able to easily capture my interest in the African presence in Panama. I also heard frequently "Yankee Go Home !" by the older Panamanians although it was mostly in jest. This is one of the areas that my beloved U.S. Goverment bombed in 1989 which resulted in thousands of civilian deaths 11 years earlier. I was warned a few times that some older Blacks did harbor anger towards America for the deaths of their family and since I could easily fit in, I should try to speak my limited Spanish just to be safe. In Colon most of the older "Blacks" spoke both an English Patois and Spanish while the youth spoke mainly Spanish. As it became apparent that I was an American I was frequently called the N-Word in a very loving manner and asked if I knew Jay-Z, Mary J. Blige, or Mariah Carey. Towards the end of this video is my interview with a guy who had an American father and a Panamanian mother who acted as a "Congo" during the festivities. He noted how the term 'Congo' had come to mean "foolish" to the Spainard enslavers as many of the enslaved African seemed to do and wear foolish things which were later acts and weapons used by these enslaved Africans to fight against the Spainards. Nowadays the term meant "a fool" and according to him many of the younger Panamanians are unaware of it's origin. He also believed, as most of us were taught, that Pre-European enslavement Africans worshiped Satan. He and I had an interesting conversation later since I had to buy him some liquer to get him to do the interview.

Day Three ! This was a great trip ! This video begins with a little more of Carnivalito in Colon. I wish I could have showed all of what occured in Colon. Colon is truly the place to party in Panama !

Day Four ! I've learned to stick with my tour guides...... I'm a mess for real. I kept leaving Fulo & Tammy and dissapearing and getting into too much fun. On this day we had dinner, visited some very historical areas of Panama and I forgot my video camera. My video is missing the rich cultural landscape and people of Panama...... But I got more footage of Colon Baby ! We returned to Colon again for more of Carnivalito (little Carnival)> These folks in Colon don't stop. The official Carnival season is over...... but Colon doesn't stop. This night a street parade occured with locals "representing thier streets". Everyone is in the street yelling their streets version of "Todo el mundo bajo, todo el mundo abajo, todo el mundo - ariba, ariba, ariba, ariba...." Then there is another chant having everybody go to the left and right. It was sort of a very soulful Electric slide.

Puerto Rico Day 1

Puerto Rico Day 1:

I've wanted to go to Puerto Rico for years. I was able to enjoy P.R. in September 2008 with the Wifey for our 11th anniversary.
I wanted to see Loiza badly. I've read so much about Loiza as I've studied the African influence in Latin America. I really want to visit Puerto Rico during the annual Loiza Festival so I could witness for myself Puerto Rican people celebrating the African portion of their cultural and familial heritage. Many of the Puerto Ricans that I've known haven't been outwardly proud of Puerto Rico's African presence......... I guess I could say the same about African-Americans as well.
Today we touched down in P.R. We visited San Juan, drove through Old San Juan, and made plans for me to visit Ponce (Home to one of my heroes - Roberto Clemente), Loiza (Home of the Loiza Festival), and I hoped to walk the grounds of Santurce (Home of Arturo Alfonso Schomburg). It took us a while to get from the airport and to obtain a vehicle. Once that was in place we drove to our Timeshare by Wyndham and enjoyed the sounds of the Puerto Rican frogs. Here are a few photos:

Puerto Rico Day 2 - Team VArner

Day Two !

This was the day I've been waiting for ! Today we had a chance to visit Old San Juan and view the old Spanish inspired/designed and Indian/African handcrafted scenery that is Old San Juan. Along the way we were able to view a few museum exhibits on the African influences in Puerto Rico and visited some historic forts where the Spanish (from Spain) battled various folk. We visited San Juan (proper) and then drove out to Loiza for a short rainy stay.
I've been wanting to go to Loiza for decades now. As we talked to staff in the Hotel about our plans they would shake their heads saying "Si, Old San Juan is beautiful" and "Si San Juan is very active" and then "Loiza ? Why would you want to go to Loiza ?" Loiza is one of the areas in Puerto Rico where our enslaved imported Africans didn't mix as heavily with our indigenous Arawak/Tiano/Boriquen indians or the Spanish colonizers that invaded Puerto Rico. One of the hotel employees, who appeared lilly-white (caucasian) looked at the Wifey and I and said.... "Brother, Loiza is the place where you can most easily see our African heritage as Puerto Ricans. It's not that obvious in other parts of the Island although we know about it. I know why you want to visit. Just be a little more careful. Loiza is where the Puerto Ricans go to party when we want to go wild and loose. Some things are easier to get in Loiza than anywhere else 'if you feel Me'." ................................. Here is a photo montage of the day: