Will's House - Poetry Reading by Martha C Wallace

On a  recent sunny mid winter day I ventured outside to twist, leap, smile , and dance with my shadow. I visited one of my alma maters where I studied journalism and slipped into the massive library and nestled among the students and books. I inhaled the fragrances of histories, romances, wisdom and mysteries.

I found me a comfortable seat and starting reading. Later as I prepared to leave I met a lovely salt and pepper haired woman who had recently started to work at the library. We struck up a conversation about writing and getting works published. It is difficult to get good info that doesn't cost the price of your first born. I promised that I would send her some of my stories, its always good to have another unbiased opinion of your works in progress. A couple of days later I received an email from her with this message "Thanks for sending the sea-shells kicked-up from what is no doubt a constant current of writing in your life." Immediately I imagined  our lives as vast as the  sometimes turbulent, or sometimes calm ocean, warmed by the sun, our tears as wind blown spray from the salt tinged ocean. 

It is my sincere desire to try to positively influence others lives, in word or deed. I know that it is not all about me , that if I am to love my neighbor as myself,  I will have to put my faith in action. 
" If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? 18 Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." 1 John 3:17-18 NIV

Fresh

Fresh flowers, freshly showered, rain fresh air, fresh vegetables and fruits, and freshly prepared foods-all enjoyable to me. In our world of immediate gratification, we often forget that good things comes to those who wait. We grab fast food, live fast lives, and seek fast solutions. We miss the enjoyment of picking a plump tomato off of the vine, washing it off and biting into it; its sweet juicy goodness sliding down our throats, leaving traces on our chins. Or grabbing a firm green one, slicing it and seasoning it and in minutes watching it sizzle in its puddle of hot olive oil, dusted with a little flour or cornmeal. Fried green tomatoes are so much more than a popular movie. I had a close cousin, Eric who loved the way that I prepared them. All I had to say was that I was about to fry tomatoes and he would rush over to my house. Even after many years I still get requests from friends far away as South Korea wanting to know if when they come back to Georgia, would I fry them some green tomatoes.

Early in life I learned about enjoying the fruits of the earth and my labor when helping my family in our gardens. Nothing was sweeter or tastier than going in the backyard and retrieving the selection of the day: squash, cabbage, cucumbers, fresh spring onions, garlic, broccoli, and sometimes even sweet corn. Fresh picked was the very best. We had apple and pear trees in our yards, grape vines, mulberry bushes, and wild strawberries that we raced against the squirrels and birds to enjoy. Nowadays, you just don't see many of the fruit trees, grape vines, and vegetable gardens like there used to be. No one takes the time. Instead, they rush to the store or market; instant gratification, but not nearly as satisfying as home grown. There are many days that I gathered fresh vegetables and herbs to prepare like crisp and curly kale, bold garlic, radiant red and golden peppers, and fragrant rosemary. After the harvest, ripe purple eggplant, tender asparagus, baby portabellas, sweet vidalia onions, and crunchy carrots were washed and spritzed with olive oil and laid upon the grill to roast. Delightful. I suppose I just love being fresh.

Are you an absorber or exuder?

Are you an absorber or exuder?

Some times we are so self absorbed and self centered that we are unable to see past our own nose or reach beyond our own grasp. We grow mentally and spiritually when you give the gift of self.


It is my sincere desire to try to positively influence others lives, in word or deed. 
I know that it is not all about me , that if I am to love my neighbor as myself,  I will have to put my faith in action. 
" If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." 1 John 3:17-18 NIV

Seek and you will Find....

Its funny how sometimes we are subconsciously looking for guidance, and answer, direction, hope and it smoothly slides within our grasp. While riding down Allgood Road in Stone Mountain one day, my mind was chasing numerous "needs to be done, attended to, prayed about " projects I concentrated on the traffic and music that was playing. Would not let those thoughts consume or distract me. We all encounter "peace stealers " occasionally. A song came on and the singer said " If I was just anybody I would say its all good, but I know better , its all God..." How ironic.
 The following morning while sipping on a cup of coffee and taking time to actually relax and enjoy it, I read an article in a newspaper entitled " God provides peace as we face life's trials" , a commentary by Patricia Holbrook. It touched me profoundly at that moment and saturated my soul. It reinforced my belief  that God gives peace, peace that surpasses all understand despite all. Its the kind of peace that possessing an abundance of  worldly treasures  cannot equal or provide, its the peace attained when one sees Gods hand at work in our circumstances, and feels his presence in the the darkest days and deepest valleys. It may be quite difficult for someone to understand, unless they have actually experienced it. I think back over the years, I recall my grandmother clutching her Bible and praying each night, my elderly Godparents kneeling beside their bed, fervently praying.That meant a lot to me. They simply believed.  My friends that had experienced that level of maturity seemed always confident and peaceful and had such a calming effect on those whose lives that they touched. As I grew older I yearned to have that same experience.
 God is real. I can earnestly say that I too seek his wisdom and will daily and find it in various places. I stand on His promises through trials, and circumstances beyond my control. We are comforted as we walk closely with God, trusting and  knowing that He has our back, and will take care of us  and our circumstances in His time.  I simply and surely believe. I continue to seek and know that I will find.

Thanksgiving

Gratitude is something of which none of us can give too much.  For on the smiles, the thanks we give, our little gestures of appreciation, our neighbors build their philosophy of life.” ~ A. J. Cronin - 

The holidays are approaching, and everyone is beginning to be come lighthearted, even in the midst of the tragedies that have been affecting people in various countries. Lovers hold hand, gaze a little longer, seasoned relationships bask in the memories of the wonderful years together that have past and the hope of many more to come.

 Holiday music fill the malls, and restaurants...there is a peaceful note that lingers. Houses of Worship welcome the faithful , the curious, the unfulfilled, the hopeful.  Strangers smile as they pass one another, children dream of gifts, sweets, gifts, no school, gifts. 

But there are many that cannot find a reason to smile, rejoice, celebrate or have hope. Many are alone, chronically or terminally ill, depressed, heartbroken, homeless, helpless. Remembering them in prayers is very thoughtful, however remembering them in deeds is  also a wonderful and tangible option. 

That person who has no family, stop by, a conversation and smile only costs time. Visit someone that is shut in, encourage a group of co-workers, friends, or  acquaintances to make a small sacrifice and consider putting together some small care packages for the undeserved. A shoe box filled with toiletries, or  a book or socks or even a warm hat or blanket is something that children and adults can enjoy. Lets put more value on what really matters.

Volunteer, there is always someone that can use your services, take the children to a homeless shelter and let them help others that are not blessed to have their own home. Imagine how many people are in assisted living or nursing homes who have nothing but memories of past holidays with family and friends. A card, homemade treat, smile and friendly face can  make a difference.

Be grateful for the blessings you have and be sure to let those you treasure know how grateful you are to have them in your life. Find a way at least once a week to show your gratitude and share the gift of yourself.

This summer I attended a political poetry workshop which was facilitated by Amanda Johnston, an amazingly gifted and insightful poet and a Cave Canem Fellow.  This was my outcome from that experience, and I was recently given the opportunity to present this prose to Bree Newsome , while she was visiting my Alma Mater. What an honor indeed

For Bree Newsome:

The symbol that provokes angst, fear, hatred and oppression

to MANy,

A banner of historical significance, honoring  “ confederate forefathers”

met an unlikely opponent.

A petite, black woman , climbed up - not danced or gyrated on that pole,

risking danger, and jail, removed something  probably better suited

in a museum along with a dead, dry cotton boil.

Than to unfurl and glide weightlessly- bearing the painful weight of subjugation,

misery, and injustice

In front and above a government building.

Just as Maya Angelou proclaimed. “ And Still I Rise...”

comes to mind, inch by inch as she made this historical ascent.

Fully aware, moving purposefully higher,knowing that upon her descent she could face scrutiny,incarceration, indignation.

Thighs squeezing, heart pounding, breath quickening.

Up, up, muscles tighten, reaching up,

she snatched it down.

She snatched Mammy nem from Massa’s kitchen and washroom,

She snatched Uncle nem from the cotton fields,

She snatched Sista nem from the Massa’s bed…

Degradation replaced by  deliverance from oppressive dispensation

An Original Macawa Creative Expression

History Lesson, up close and personal

I have been so blessed. In the past four years I have completed my AA with honors in journalism and my BA with double major in English Creative Writing and Africana Studies. I have walked the warm sands of the beaches of the Atlantic Ocean on the coast of West Africa, and tasted the sweetness of Mother Africa from the bounty from her earth and sea. I have walked the trails that captured Africans walked, bled, cried and even died on. I have smoothed the rich shea butter and bathed with authentic black soap. I have met African chiefs and their families. I was even given the name Ama Dzifa meaning I was born on Saturday, and  " my heart is at peace, or serenity. 

I have even walked to cobblestones streets of Madrid, and Oviedo Spain. I excitedly ventured into a land and culture that I was unfamiliar with. I walked into towns  It was exhilarating and a totally awesome experience. I am forever grateful to be able to have been afforded these opportunities. I dined on delectable regional dishes and walked into architectural masterpieces, some built in the year 848. I was so high in the Pico de Europa mountains that I believe that I could have reached up and touched Gods toenails. In hindsight if I was still tied down to a low paying grueling job, I would have missed out on these opportunities. 


When I reached out to my professor that gently guided me through my journey of " finding your niche and value through knowing your history" because I was considering grad school, she made a wise and insightful observation/comment:
"Of course you know that I am your biggest supporter as it relates to grad school, but I wonder if your desire to go back has more to do with the fact that you are used to being busy all the time and you are energized by staying busy and active?  I think you will find your niche, but it may just take you a moment.  Remember, you were the one that taught us all about "age-ism!"  

When The Hourglass seems to be running out,Turn it over!

When I  recently reached out to my professor that gently guided me through my journey of " finding your niche and value through knowing your history" because I was considering grad school, she made a wise and insightful observation/comment:
"Of course you know that I am your biggest supporter as it relates to grad school, but I wonder if your desire to go back has more to do with the fact that you are used to being busy all the time and you are energized by staying busy and active? I think you will find your niche, but it may just take you a moment. Remember, you were the one that taught us all about "age-ism!"

Ahhh yeah the dirty A word. The very thing that thrust me from corporate America, from being a productive working taxpayer and homeowner. It is so sad that people continue to deny its existence. I know it does, it has tried to cover me like the dew covers dixie, but like the the bright and warming sun, I am continuing to cause it to evaporate. I initially was told when seeking work that I didnt have a degree for higher paying positions and my experience was so varies that it confused the HR people. I simply knew how to do so many things that I was "overqualified. " Funny, overqualified and under educated in the same body.

My faith is so much stronger than my detractors. This is but another hiccup . I am so glad that I am among Gods favored. I know that He knows each hair on my head and each step that I will take.

Jeremiah 29:11 says:

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

So with faith and hope at my side and 'thus sayeth the Lord" I move forward, expectantly into the next phase of this life that He has blessed me with. Just because we grow older, we don't need to give up on life, our abilities, or opportunities.  I pause to consider whether I really want to pursue grad school, or polish my writing abilities and crank out something of substance to share with other. If it is His will I will go to Grad school, in His time. If not I will continue to follow whatever path that He has for me. Either way it will be fulfilling.Trust in the Lord above, He will guide you according to His will. When you think the sands of time are running low in the hourglass, turn it over, that's what I do.

A Beautiful Journey

I am humble and my heart is filled with praise. I got an email today with my official transcript and was told that my degree will show that I graduated Magna Cum Laude. I am not bragging, simply explaining that when you walk with the Lord, all things are possible in His time. I started college in the 1970's and was unfortunately diagnosed with an Crohn's disease. I struggled, I was is more pain than imaginable. I endured so much more than need be shared here, but God bought me over so very many mountains. I lost close friends, family members and my husband. I lost my home, my car broke down and at times didn't know where my next meal was coming from or where I would lay my head down.I endured personal tragedies that tore my soul apart. I couldn't do this by myself.I have walk in lands that I never imagined I would see, communed with people of many lands and tongues. But not for God... I don't know what tomorrow holds,but I trust that He continues to hold me in His hands and I will be blessed once again. All Glory to God.
One can never tell what another has been through. Thank God I do not look like what I have gone through. I wear a smile of triumph, joy, gratefulness. My heart overflows with love, compassion, mercy and grace. When I recall the physical discomforts, fear, abuse, unhappiness and shame that reared in my life at various stages. I am so blessed to be alive and I have learned so very much. I know that there is also so much more for me to learn as well.I have seen so many changes in the world during my lifespan, so simple amazing, others sadly disappointing. I still believe in treating people with the utmost respect and kindness, and lending a hand to those who need it.I believe in love, children's giggles, and innocence. I believe that everyone has the right to a decent life, and I have learned to be content in whatever circumstance I am in. That doesn't mean that I decide to stop trying to live a good life, make someone smile by a simple, visit or gift, a meal. A sincere smile and reassuring hug can warm the coldest, loneliest  heart. I have learned that the accumulation of a vast amount of material things are not what will ultimately bring you the most joy, they are just 'stuff'' , stuff that sometimes have you shackled to jobs, situations, and people that are just not the best for your situation. It distracts you from what is freely available to you; peace of mind, freedom,  joy,contentment. We never know what tomorrow hold or whay journeys are before us, but we should take time to relax, rejuvenate and rejoice that we are alive and the journey can be as beautiful as you make it.

Hummingbird Wings

Estoy bien. Time is flying faster than the wings of a hummingbird. I value each moment of this life and each day of this amazing trip to Spain. I am fully enjoying this experience. I have walked through many miles of Spanish history. Prior to coming to Oviedo , we spent a day at Toledo," City of the three cultures" the city that is truly on a hillside. It is built mainly of bricks, a virtual fortress. Buildings display beautiful and detailed examples of 'Moros' archtectura. In this historical city, in very close proximity one can find synagogues, iglesisas, and mosques. An example of despite difference, in time people from diverse backgrounds can collaborate to build beautiful buildings and co exist peacefully.
Pretty much a pedestrian area with all of the hills, very narrow and curving "Calles". Our guide Pablo was quite knowledgeable about every aspect of the city, history and people of Toledo. The streets had various sized stones in them and it one wasn't careful they could trip. I didn't trip, but I got a fat, red, hot , swollen, painful blood blister behind my big toe on my left foot. It took a minute to heal but when I say my foot was on fire...We were fortunate  to take a very long and tall escalator to the central part of the city. One of the orders of nuns are known for their Marzipan which is widely popular. We also visited the Museo of El Greco, which was once his home, and now houses some of its works. My most notable highlight of this excursion : Toledo Cathedral was massive and absolutely breathtaking. The gothic architecture, the frescos, the beautiful stained glass windows are indescribable and I will have them etched into my memory for a long time.
 To actually have had the opportunity to  walk into the wondrous Cathedral is mindblowing to me. It no wonder tourists and the pious flock to it. When I visited the fabulous Prado museum, and the Royal Palace in Madrid, I thought that it couldn't get much better but each day, each excursion, seems to prove me wrong. I have taken hundreds of pictures while I have been here and I hope to be able to share many of them before I fully forget where they were taken or why they were significant.  While in Madrid we ate ate many restuarants and the food was amazing, our hosts were awesome and the sangria was awesome!

Wifi or lack of..

I have spent the past two hours composing a detailed and informative description of my experiences in Spain. How about NONE of it was saved. I am feeling some kind of aggravated right now!

It is a lovely sunny day in Oviedo, Spain. I am sitting in a cozy corner with a beautiful panoramic view of the mountainside.Everyone here is very laid back, family and friend time is very important, as it should be. Spain is an interesting potpourri of history, religion, fashion, food, architecture and culture. I invite you to take a mental journey with me to Madrid, to me, another Manhattan in its own right. Taxi's and people move briskly through the city. Fashionistas of all ages grace the calles (streets) . El Cortez de ingles seems to be a one stop shopping spot. The ground floor has a supermarket, Hot food counters, coffee shops, yes...Starbucks is here, and Dunkin Donuts, Micky Dee's and Burger King with many additional options than found in the states. There is also an area which sells cell phones as well. The higher levels of the store, maybe foru or five floors in some cases are reminiscent of a Macy's or Dillards. Metro stations (the subways) swiftly move people around the city and if you are daring and adventurous you could probably walk around the city to fully enjoy its magnificence. With the sunshine and gentle breezes and a pair of comfy shoes and a map it isn't impossible to do.
The adventure begins... This lovely city is a mixture of what most of Spain is; old and new, modern and traditional. There are likely sights, sounds, tastes , and fashions to pamper the most discriminate tastes.  Every few blocks there are tables awaiting your arrival, for cafe (coffee) tapas , cervesa, or cool and refreshing agua. But be aware, someone may be watching you as you are watching the city in motion. A couple of days after my arrival, I was on the Metro, heading back to my hotel, and probably because I am a mature diva, obviously a tourista I became the target of a carterista (pickpocket). He had a heavy jacket draped over his arm..on a hot day, trying to conceal his dastardly deed. What he didn't know was that I am very aware of my surroundings and  had no problem grabbing his hand, bending his fingers painfully back and shoving him across the train. Not bad for a "tourista", he was shocked and terrified and as soon as the doors opened he ran from the train. Other passengers applauded my courage and gave thumbs up and good looking out signs. You see I was raised in the inner city and have seen so many things in this life that makes me be cautious. I have survived four or five ( lost count) bank robberies as well and being terrorized by the gang "Ambrose Lane" when I was a young college student and mother of two young sons. God has constantly protected me, and guided me. That was just a small hiccup on this amazing journey. I have been visually delighted at the amazing and varied forms of architecture. Seeing the daddies proudly push their ninos through the city is some really fashionable carriages has also been nice. In many cases the Mommies were not with them and they were fully on task with their young ones of all ages. There is so much green space here. Parks were street musicians and singers entertain, jogging, skating and skateboarding, playing futbot, running with or walking "el perros" or just enjoying a cold and tasty helado. This just a thimble full of Madrid. I have so many good memories and experiences to share but I wont bore you with it all at once. I want you to please re-visit me and stroll with me through this journey. I want to share more with you about the pampered  pooches that are living well in Espana. Ciao!

Viva Espana ! I arrived here in Madrid in the early morning, after a mostly non eventful U.S. Air flight. I have never flown with them before and I doubt that I will again. Customer service is not in their dictionary. First the Flight attendant gave another couple my seat and when I reached it, she told me to go , look somewhere else, find another since they were already seated. It took a small measure of the professionalism and self respect that I had not to turn into the angry and irate black woman who disrupts the flight. Instead  smiled, looked around and set a row or two away. She wasn't worth it One of my brilliant classmates had located me in the Charlotte airport and was a few rows away.

En busca de la auténtica paella...

Today is a beautiful sultry southern pre-summer day. In just a few days I will embark on an amazing adventure and opportunity; I will be traveling to Spain, to totally immerse myself in the culture. I was fortunate and blessed to be selected  as a participant in this global awareness opportunity. I will visit Madrid for the first week, then  I will travel north to Oviedo. For the next four weeks I will be attending the University of Oviedo. My textbooks will come to life.

Yes!! I have my camera and I will take lots of pictures!

 I will ride on that crazy fast train, about 200 miles per hour. I have been informed that the Madrid Atocha train station is Madrid's largest and first train station. It has vivid tropical gardens lining the concourse and is exceptional with its steel and glass construction.  In addition , I will enjoy viewing the display of sculptures in the station. I will be totally immersed in the Spanish culture and community. During my stay I will reside with a host family.I will also visit markets, museums, cathedrals, and notable places of interest. This is my first trip to Europe, I say first because I hope to explore other countries in the future. I hope that you will check in occasionally.

I am so very excited! 

For my senior seminar I am writing a food memoir and I hope to gather some recipes while I am in Spain. Usually when someone shares a recipe with you they also share a story connected with it. I hope to bring these delightful and interesting moments form the heart to my memoir. I hope that you will follow my journey as I share it. I am not very fluent in Spanish but I am certain I will be so much better as I embark on this journey. Yes I am very excited, I will be residing with a host family and will be in the company of several of my unique and wonderful Scottie Sisters. 

Viva España!

This is the final leg of my race to get my B.A., spurred on by a myriad of economic calamities and losses. I have encountered numerous people from all over the world, all walks of life and ideologies. Variety is indeed the spice of life!  I am so very grateful for the lessons learned and friendships forged. With that being said I am a pursuing a double major, English Creative Writing and Africana Studies at Agnes Scott College. I am constantly surrounded and immersed in greatness.

  

 

 

 

 

  Happy New Year 2014

  Briefly glance over your shoulder, for auld Lang Syne, then inhale the freshness of new beginnings. Sloth off sadness, disappointment and pain and step excitedly into the light. Expect the best, we often settle for 'whatever' not accepting that we are wondrous and worthy of incredible goodness, love, happiness and abundance. Be responsibly selfish at least once a month. Walk in front of your mirror, naked as you came into the world. Look at the parts you think are amazing, and those less than. Combined each cell is unique and precious in its own right. Love and appreciate each inch, stretch, pamper, massage, free your mind.

      Collectively "Amazing" shines around and through you. Let it shine through in all that you do. Be uplifted, and uplift. We are bound to experience negative experiences, negative people but resolve to leave each situation better than you find it.  Remember that each journey begins with the first step. Move your body, smile more, love someone who seems unlovable, be good to yourself and to someone that truly deserves it.

      Expect reciprocity, the winds blow in many directions, not just one. Try something new, go somewhere that you have been, do something wonderful that you have never tried. Be fearless! Be fierce! Be fabulous! Each week do something that will improve you, read, walk, learn something new, try a new healthy recipe. Write a love letter to yourself. Write a letter to someone that you haven't reached out to for a long time. Treat yourself to a movie, to a nice dinner at a classy restaurant, just you, spoil yourself!

      Set a goal, and even if you take baby steps, celebrate each step of  your progress. Journal, record your feelings, thought and aspirations, it will make great reading in the future. Enjoy life, you don't get a sample run and time is the one thing that doesn't stop, nor can you get it back, Embrace your spirituality, revere your Creator, Higher Power, Source, God.

Namaste

Saturday morning I trudged up the hill to the main street to catch the bus. It was still in the early seven oclock hour and the humidity was as thick as sludge. A car squealed on two wheels in front of me turning into the service station, driver half hanging out of her window, waving her arms and shouting " Pepe!! Pepe! She circles around the lot and yelled out to me "Lady, you seen a little Chihuahua? "  At that moment the object of her hellacious pursuit stood in the middle of a busy intersection, looking as if it was deciding which way to run. I pointed to the dog and the car pealed out of the service station, through a red light, in hot pursuit, she was still shrieking " Pepe!! Pepe!"A cycling club of about seven riders was also peddling through the intersection. Doesn't look good I said and winced at the sound of shouts and tires squealing to a stop. The Lady drove recklessly through the group like a ill thrown bowling ball weaving through pens, missing them all. Everyone seemed to be frozen, sweating, under a sun that looked like a giant egg yolk frying in the sky.  I crossed the street and sat in the sauna, err.. bus shelter and sopped up the globules of sweat that formed on my forehead , nose, and upper lip. All before eight a.m.

You see, my car died a painful death a few months ago so I am learning to readjust  to using public transportation. That in itself is a daily adventure.About twenty sultry,long, energy sapping moments later, the behemoth  puffed and rolled to a stop in front of me belching more heat and gaseous fumes. The doors opened and swirls of cool, refreshing air engulf the limp, damp boarders. No one spoke for fear of adding hot air into this momentary refreshing mirage. I entered and gave the driver a hearty "Good mornin "and smile. In return she looked at me in surprise and returned the smile and greeting. We moved forward into our day that some did not wake to see.

I recently saw a minister from my past and we greeted each other and exchanged pleasantries. As our conversation ended I told him that it was a pleasure to see him. He replied, "Yes sister it is better to be seen, than to be viewed."Live each day with love, and purpose, and never doubt that you are an amazing part of this awesome Universe. Blessed beyond measure.

So many times we have so much on our minds, hearts, heads that we dont take the time to put things into perspective.We run around foolhardy like the woman pursuing the tiny dog, on a busy street with a big car, putting so many others at risk, including our ourselves. We cannot wrap our minds around how blessed we are, each day that we have a God, a Father to take our burdens, concerns , and questions to. We feel that we are better equipped to deal with whatever life rolls across our paths. Even the best computer can crash, the largest tree can fall. God cannot fail. His will shall be done.  The time that you toss and turn in the middle of the night, struggling , not knowing why, is a perfect time to talk to the Master of your soul. He is always listening. In quicksand it is said that the harder you struggle , the deeper you sink and sometimes our lives reflect these struggles. God is larger than any of our problems. And just because He seems not to answer in the time that you feel is right, in the manner that you want, don't be discouraged.A delay doesn't mean a denial.

 When it seems as if all is falling apart, and those closest to you turn their back, remember  the disciples slept while Jesus prayed, even when he asked them to keep watch. Have an unwavering faith, pray, and believe. When you are the center of ire, when you are mistreated, and abused by word or deed, know that you are so much better than that, the attacker is telling their story, not yours . I figure that when confusion and calamity is surrounding me it is because the enemy knows that I am about to come into an amazing blessing and I am happy and expectant. Each day I awake I expect a blessing, I expect a miracle and I try to be a blessing to someone else. I try to put a smile on a few faces, joy , and encouragement in someones life. I speak not from what I have read but what I have experienced in life.

 I have had disappointments and pain that cut so deep into my soul I could barely breathe. The folks that raised me, taught me, held me, loved me...all transitioned to glory and I had never felt so lost or so alone as when I looked around and realized they were all gone. My foundation, the "hand that I fanned with" the ones who really had my back. It is in  quiet times, I meditate on the love they surrounded me with, the faith they had, the God that they held fast to, and introduced me to. In quiet times I wrap my mind around how amazing God is, and how through my life, trials and triumphs, he has bought me through, and has opened doors, and prepared me to handle painful, situations with grace and mercy at my side. I have suffered insurmountable loses, but the blessings, oh my Lord, the blessings are profound. As I reach out to you, I pray that whatever is troubling your heart, be moved in Jesus name, that God will touch you in a unique and special way, quickly, and you will know without a doubt that He is always with you, that God is love and you are his child, deeply loved.

 Psalms 29:11 The Lord will give peace unto his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace.

 

A Melody in My Song of Praise

 

 

Sweet Jesus, You are the melody to the songs of praise that I sing.

 

Glory...So very grateful, so thankful each day,

 

each breath, each step, each storm, each Victory.

 

 

How blessed it is to know that I am never alone,

 

even when I am filled with uncertainty,

 

even when things look bleak and I don't know where to turn.

 

 

When I feel alone, or sad, or disappointed, when I am at my lowest,

 

when warm tears from my heart, surface on my face, Mercy

 

when I feel lost, or wonder why should I even try,

 

 

When your Grace surrounds me, sheltering, guiding restoring,

 

 anointing me, Halleluiah

 

Thank you Lord for strength, faith , love, for freedom

 

 

from my inadequacies

 

Thank you for loving me, keeping me, and Thank You for

 

Loving those so dear to me.

 

Surrounding Radiance...Ezekiel 1:28

When I was a child I saw rainbows nearly each time it rained in Cleveland. As I grew older I saw less of them. Life happens... childlike innocence, rainbows, carefree joy is replaced by stress, obligations, and other life affecting situations...job losses, death, loneliness, helplessness. We lose the joi de vivre.  We focus  more on distractions rather than the glory around us. Always know that there is Light in the darkness. You are never alone. Call on the master, the creator, trust and believe his word, his promises. Today in the midst of a raging storm, He revealed this beautiful rainbow..a reminder of His promises and reassurence that He is always with us.

Reflections of my Trip to the Motherland

My Journey to the Motherland: Excursion to Ghana

Our footsteps echo on the metal stairs as we make our descent from the plane.

 “I can’t believe it.” Christine, the student life coordinator says as she squeezes my hand, tears gently pooling in her eyes.  The full moon lights our way and a comforting warm breeze wrap around us. My heartbeat mimics the rhythms of native drums that have been thumping in my head, a song of welcome. Tears squeeze through my eyelids, we reach the final step … look at each other; suck in a deep breath, exhale, and together step onto the tarmac. Squealing with excitement, elation and awe, embracing, we jump up and down.

“Ms. Martha, we are here, finally here! We are in Ghana, in Africa .We have reached the Motherland! “She says excitedly.

                              

For me, at that moment, in that time and place nothing else mattered. Not even the 18 -1/2 hours flight from Atlanta to Accra Ghana. I was astounded about how little I knew about Ghana. It was not the Africa that I had seen on television; emaciated, naked people running all over the place, men with loin cloths and spears, wild animals tearing through the savanna, chasing our bus. I had recently seen programs about guinea worms in the disease ridden water, so I was expecting to see sick, worm ridden people standing sorrowfully around bodies of dirty water. It never happened; I saw cities, people, automobiles, stores.

Soon I would walk upon the ground that my ancestors crossed, breathe the fresh air that filled their lungs, and I would be standing in the golden sunlight, cooled by the salty foaming waters, tinged by their blood, in the Motherland. I could not recall a time when I had been so excited about going somewhere. With each tick of the clock the anticipation of setting foot in the Motherland had up built like a huge balloon about to explode. My trip of a lifetime was finally occurring.

 Nearly every African American that I know has referred to Africa as the Motherland. Africa is known as the birthplace of civilization and I know that my ancestors were descendants of African slaves. When attending family reunions, the elders told of Jasper Daniels, my grandfather, many times removed, that was captured in an area near West Africa and enslaved in South Carolina, Daniels being the surname of his master. Eventually one of his grandsons left the United States and returned to African and ultimately our family lost contact with him and his children. Every since I discovered this, it made me inquisitive about Africa; how did it look there, how many more of my lineage lived there?  Would I feel a connection if I were to go there? The chance of ever setting foot in Africa was merely an elusive aspiration.

Spring semester had ended two weeks earlier, and I had been anxiously anticipating this trip.  With passport in hand I eagerly paid for the trip. I have some health concerns and yellow fever immunizations as well as malaria medication is required. My hopes were almost dashed when I went to the health center and were told that I couldn’t take the necessary yellow fever vaccine as it could adversely interact with the other medications that I take.

“I can’t go?” I asked in a forlorn whisper to the doctor.

 “You can go, I will give you a medical exemption certificate, but you must be very careful.” the doctor said.

  I went home, got online and researched yellow fever, malaria and what I could do naturally to prevent contracting the diseases. My determination to go on this trip was coupled with the resolve of not getting sick while traveling. My due diligence was rewarded; I did not get bitten by mosquitoes during my entire trip, nor did I contract malaria.

That first night of our arrival, the darkness shrouded me like liquid midnight, dark, moist with a sprinkling of celestial lights, twinkling and I am basking in the aura of being in Africa. The morning greeted me with brilliance and dry heat, almost the polar opposite of the nights. Smiling broadly, as I lie in my bed, I am so grateful to make this journey. I get dressed, brush my teeth and run my fingers through the curly gold that crowns my head. I join my group for breakfast downstairs; fresh slices of pineapples, mango, and papaya are set next to covered containers of flaky and fruit filled French pastries. Large silver pots of hot water sit next to packets of Nescafe coffee and tea bags. Mango juice, orange juice and milk sit close to the bowl of sugar cubes. A woman with a sing-song voice smiles and asks us how we would like our eggs. As we eat our trip facilitator, informed us of local customs, and greetings. For example, I learned that it was an insult to hand someone something with or give someone your left hand to shake. It had a double entendre, the left hand had other uses; some were not very hygienic. After breakfast I grab my journal, cameras, sunglasses, and cash and head to the bus. I apply fragrant oils to repel any insects that I encounter.

Fred, our driver greeted us with a broad smile and begins to give us an oral history of the city and sights that we will see. I discover that some areas in Ghana are not so different from small rural towns in South Georgia, and South Carolina  that I have visited, which makes it vaguely familiar to me. Some people had makeshift shacks and stands displaying containers filled with an array of vegetables and fruits; such as whole and  sliced ripe watermelon, small incredibly sweet bananas, sweet yams, stacks of cassava ( similar to yams, starchy but white inside.) larger than twenty four inches in length and nearly a foot in circumference. It made me recall the roadside stands that my grandparents used to stop by whenever we took road trips through country towns. There were even live chickens in cages that they were selling and stacks of fresh and smoked fish. Children played close by, singing, chasing one another, drawing in the dirt with sticks. Babies were tied to their mother’s backs by brightly colored pieces of fabric as she sold her goods. Somewhat reminiscent of the fish and poultry markets my parents shopped at when I was a child.

 In Accra and other urban areas, it was not uncommon to see men in crisp, button down cotton shirts, dress pants and shoes and ladies in beautifully tailored dresses and two piece suits ;attire that we consider dressy, or business going about their daily activities. I also learned that unlike in the U.S. in Accra you were required to pay your rent for housing two years in advance. That would explain why I saw so many makeshift lean to shacks filled with families along the roadside. In an area with so much poverty, it would be difficult to raise the money to pay for decent housing. Having a unique skill or product to sell is essential for survival.

Each day with two cameras, fully charged, my journal and pen, I charted my incredible journey. With my eyes wide open, I mentally absorbed every sight that I saw, to revisit over and over.  One my third day we were traveling to Elmina and I saw many fishing boats and families along the road prepping fish to be smoked and sold. I can still close my eyes, quiet my mind and be back on the beach in Elmina, listening to the Atlantic roar upon its approach, waves  frothy ,white and foamy as they crash against the rocks and shore, then softly retreat, coaxing millions of grains of sand to join them .

           I saw an abundance of fruits growing wildly, lemons, mangoes, as well as banana and plantain trees scattered around the countryside to be claimed by anyone, or no one. I thought about my childhood and the bountiful fruit trees and grape vines that were available. My grandparent’s had a cherry and pear tree in their back yard and plump, sweet, juicy concord grapes growing all around the sides of their house and up the sides of the fence and garage.

I had never before seen a mango tree. When we were traveling to Torgome, we crossed the Kpong Dam on the Volta River.  Just before our bus crossed the river, there were a bunch of trees, filled with ripe mangoes. Several children were attempting to dislodge the sweet juicy fruit. Each of the fruits hangs from a long stem of sorts. The golden ripe mangoes hung from trees reminiscent of a mother’s swollen milk-filled breasts.  While visiting the W.E.B. Dubois Center, I saw my first cashews trees, brimming with nuts.  Fresh fruits were a part of each meal and I enjoyed each bite. Pineapples with nearly white flesh were succulent, sweet, and juicy. Small but fully ripened bananas tasted as if they had been infused with honey. Watermelons, used to hydrate as well as delight the taste buds, were abundant, always juicy, sweet, and ripe.

 I have always been drawn to water. When I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio I frequently went down to Lake Erie, to gaze into beautiful blue waters. When I traveled to the Caribbean at each destination I swam in the liquid firmament.  It was natural for me to try to spend every moment that I could near or in the ocean, so while visiting Elmina I got up early each morning, before daybreak and walked to the shore. Unrestricted, I could walk into the warm cerulean waters, or perch upon a rock, at the water’s edge. I witnessed the fishing boats depart as the golden sun poked through the horizon. The loud brash shrieks  from the beautiful peacocks pierced the dawn as villagers crossed paths along the beach; heading to neighboring villages to be among the first to display their goods for sale that day. Women balanced large containers of fruits and vegetables on their heads, some with children tied to their backs by beautiful colored cloths, striding purposely in the early morning. Perched on a sun burnished rock, wrapped in the picturesque African sunset, and cooled by the salty spray from the Atlantic Ocean, I watched the fishing boats return in the evening with their treasures from the sea.

The variation in the land was staggering; there were large stretches of barren ground next to lush areas teeming with vegetation. In Accra I saw many similar looking trees, and I was told they were Neem trees. The Neem tree is fascinating. It is an interesting multipurpose plant that has various medicinal and an agricultural benefit to humans as well as animals. The Neem tree has antibacterial, antifungal, and anti-inflammatory uses. It is also a safe alternative to deet as an insect repellant. It is almost a one stop medicine shop. The following morning we boarded a bus to head to Kumasi. On the way we stopped at a village market where huge shea butter nuts were split open and the golden smoothness was for sale. Marie took her large machete and split open the nut like it was a watermelon, We gladly purchased the rich hydrating salve from her as well as black soap, a staple of many Africans. Stalls held large vats of beans, corn kernels, grains, rice, smoked and dried fish for sell. Squealing nearly naked children ran around, dashing in and out of the stalls, goats sauntered by, munching on whatever they considered edible. The sultry wind carried the heavy stench from the drainage ditches that were close by filled with trash, excrement, rotting food. It made me very appreciative of our plumbing, and waste management facilities.

On a more solemn note, on my sixth day, my emotions were stirred, while walking through the Cape Coast Castle then again while visiting Assin Manso the site of “Donkor Nsuo”, the former Slave River and market.  At Cape Coast with its infamous slave dungeons and the “door of no return” I could feel the oppressive shroud of slave trafficking and its horrors; it terrified me, and saddened me. It was incomprehensible to image thousands of human beings being packed into the small subterranean chambers, without ventilation. I slipped, walking down into the dungeon the floors thick, slick yet sticky with remnants of human blood, excrement, sweat, death. The lime, sand and time had not diminished the atrocities executed in that place. I didn’t want to stay in there, but then I also didn’t want to leave. It seemed as if everything was as it had been, yet nothing was as it had been.  As I stood in the slave dungeons, and by the site of the last bath, there was heaviness, a sense of helplessness and sorrow enveloping me.

          In Atonka, a small boy walked up to me and slid his warm little hand into mines and announced very loudly and happily “I’m gonna be your best friend!” while displaying a warm smile. I was visiting a school in the village of Atonka on a sunny Monday morning, day nine of my journey. The school had very limited resources; however the proud, smiling faces of the children overshadowed the lack. The masses of giggling children surrounded me, posing for pictures that I shared with them. I wanted to open my arms wide and hug them close, as if that would right wrongs, just like when my grandfather used to hold me; everything was right in the world in his embrace. The buildings were made of mud bricks and long dried grasses provided the roof. There were no air conditioners, electric lights or adequate current books or school supplies. The library housed old, sunbaked, antiquated books and a computer lab with not even one working computer.  

Coming from a country with so much excess, and ungrateful, spoiled children, I found it difficult seeing children, without the basic supplies and books available to receive an adequate education. It was uncomfortable for me. I really felt inadequate, I wanted to do more, help more, give more.  The school supplies that we had collected could not nearly provide all they were lacking.

          My journey to what I thought would re-connect me to the Motherland culminated after I participated in a traditional naming ceremony the day before returning home. We traveled to a remote village, and were greeted by the thunder of drums, elders dressed in tribal splendor and families in traditional, colorful, ceremonial dress, dancing to commence the ceremony. Prayers were prayed, traditional libations were poured, and I was presented a handmade bracelet and a clay pot with my Akan name on it; Ama Dzifa, which means I was born on a Saturday, and my heart is peaceful. I felt honored.

During the two weeks in Ghana, I visited many of the “tourist” attractions; including the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park, which is the final resting place for the first President of Ghana, the W. E. B. Dubois Center for Pan African Culture, the beautiful and lush, Kakum National Park, one of West Africa’s surviving tropical rain forests. I even toured a very unique recycling facility, named Trashy Bags”, a social project based in Accra, Ghana that uses recycled eco-friendly plastic bags that water is sold in. The bags  are sorted, hand washed, disinfected and dried in the sun, before being flattened by hand and stitched into sheets to be made into exclusive and useful products such as purses, iPad covers, briefcases, wallets and other gifts.

          Eventually it was time to return home, and immediately I went through my house, closets, donating clothing and household items that I felt were superfluous. Nearly a year later, I still reflect on my sojourn.  I am the first in my immediate family to visit the African continent.

Was there a re-connection to Africa for me? Not really, it was more of an intense, enlightening experience. I can acknowledge that my existence today was created by men and women in chains. My family is the progeny of slaves from this beautiful land. I am honored to have had the opportunity to step though “The door of no return”, and walk on the earth, breath the fresh air, feel, touch, taste and immerse my body in a miniscule portion of the immeasurable Atlantic Ocean that my ancestors experienced. The journey wove its kaleidoscope of history and cultures into the strong and varied quilt of my life experiences. The land, so very rich in history, resources, pride, and culture permitted me to sample its sweetness. This excursion has etched an indelible imprint on my mind for many years to come.

In Ghana ‘AKWAABA’ means welcome. Each smile, handshake, meal, and cool breeze echoed this sentiment. I explored a land steeped in a history of turmoil, yet overflowing with welcoming people and natural resources.  I am gratified that Mother Africa opened her heart and arms to travelers from distant shores. ‘MEDASI’ means thank you.