Sankofa. It means to go back.
To give thanks and praises to the Creator, regardless of the name in which we call Him/Her.
To remember our ancestors, we know not by name, and their ultimate sacrifice.
To remember our recent ancestors, and the wisdom their lives left behind.
To reflect on where we have been, to be clearer on where we are headed.
This is my personal diary of the last decade of experiences with attending Sankofa: The Caravan to the Ancestors, hosted by the Houston Chapter of the National Black United Front….and how these experiences changed my life.
The intent of this is not only to inspire all who have attended a Sankofa: Caravan to the Ancestors to share their their stories, but to bring an artistic and literary perspective to the history of this ceremony. The art of storytelling has long been a part of ancestral tradition.
2014’s diary gives my reflection of another spiritual conviction that came with missing the caravan…even for another community event….
Hear the audio version of these diaries infused with old skool music and other mystic teachings on 222.9 The Mothership Internet Radio, and read the written part of this diary on www.poeticallymused.org/echoesoflegacy.
Pataki. Oni mi Ojo Abameta, Owara Mejidilogun, Odun Egbawa Merinla
Mejidilogbon ojo Ogba Ooru.
Translate: Diary. Today is Saturday, October 18th, 2014, 28 days into Autumn Equinox.
The day vibrated on an 8, a day of infinite possibilities.
The Moon was waning in the 5th house of Leo.
It was a 7 year, ideal for ending old cycles to make room for new ones.
This was a wonderful year for me! My creativity was blooming in the birth of my bottle art and jewelry. My divinatory essence progressed to a place of progression, and my spirit was overall in a better, stronger, more natural place. Perhaps I got a bit ahead of myself. I say this because I’d missed Sankofa this year due to a Project Row House event I had committed to on the same day. It was the 17th annual, themed “True Afrikan Consciousness Through Ancestor Veneration.”
While not as daunting as before, I still felt this…off centeredness. While the event was fun, I sold a lot of art, and the energy was good, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I could still hear the ocean waves, and the drums, and the ancient African songs. In my absence, Sankofa still taught me a lesson. No other event was more important to me than going to the water and giving thanks to The Creator and my, our ancestors. This would be the last time I would miss Sankofa.
Ase in Love,
iiiYansaje T. Muse
