Abeng #DubPoetry : Kwayana's Meditation (The Wisdom of The Drum)

 Kwayana's Meditation (The Wisdom of The Drum)

Greetings Bredren and Sistren; Idren and Idren. Big up and Bless up.

This dub poem Kwayana's Meditation, is actually a tribute and ode to Baba Eusi Kwayana and the Working Peoples' Association (WPA).

PablOGtee · KWAYANA'S MEDITATION (The Wisdom of the Drum) by Kaya Omodele #DubPoetry #reggaepoetry #dubpoem

Join Kaya on Uncle Pablo's Kreolese Korner

 Pablo's Kreolese Korner

Join Uncle Pablo as interviews me, Kaya Omodele, on Pablo's Kreolese Korner on Saturday, May 7th, 2022. I will recite my dub poem Kwayana's Meditation (Wisdom of The Drum) from my debut book, Cries of Redemption.

The featured band is Creole Rock featuring Gavin and Chucky

Now on Smashwords

Greetings, Jah World. I know everybody don't have Amazon and Kindle, so now you can get Cries of Redemption as an ebook (ePub) through Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo, et al. Click the Link to go through Smashwords and find out more. And, I give thanks for all the love and support I have been getting. Blessed Love, Kaya @TheAbeng http://KayaOmodele.com

The Cries of Redemption Meet and Greet Party

Cries of Redemption Meet and Greet Party at Blush Couture 

The Cries of Redemption Release Sunday, the 11th, grew into a beautiful day even though the skies were gray. Made some wonderful new sistren and some old bredren and family came through. The day began a lil hectic, and just true I strive for perfection, as 3 o'clock approached, I worried cause things were running late. 

But I must admit, Andrea and Theresa and Lia and her crew had everything under control; so, 'Baby don't worry about a thing 'cause every likkle thing is gonna be all right.'

So thanks to those who came out, all in thru clouds and thru rain. I really had a ball with you all.

Bless up. See you next time.

Kaya Omodele

              

 Purchase Cries of Redemption and support Kaya and The Abeng and My Conscious Pen, an independent author and publisher.

More Photos of The Meet and Greet

Abeng Update: Kaya Omodele's Debut Cries of Redemption

Greetings Abeng and My Conscious Pen readers!
As you may done know already, Cries of Redemption is available in paper back on Amazon and ebook on Kindle. I have been getting great reviews but more importantly, readers genuinely love the positive vibes in this, my debut. As I stated before Cries of Redemption is wonderful combination of riveting short stories, heart-felt poetry, and informative and thought-provoking commentary. It is strapped with culture and history and positive reasoning, and rich in dialect and philosophy.


You can order or read a free preview here (Click Book Image)

Cries of Redemption will also soon be offered on other platforms like Smashwords and Book Baby.

Benny at The Abeng Africa Visits Youth at the Almighty God Compassion Care Home for Street Children

Benny @TheAbeng Visits Almighty God Compassion Care Home in Lagos

Written by Benny Dalle 

Edited by Kaya Omodele

My name is Benny Dalle and last Saturday, September the 30th, I dragged myself through the roasting sun and weekend bustle up to The Almighty God Compassion Care Home to meet with Pastor Sam and some of the boys. I was bubbling with excitement; this was going to be only the second time I'd interviewed anyone.  By the time I got to the Home, I was dripping with perspiration but still charged up with anticipation. While older, teenage boys aren't as cuddly as younger ones, older

children can relate their stories much more vividly.

I am very friendly and fun-loving, so I thought interviewing the boys would be a cool breeze- an easy, simple thing. Boy, was I wrong.

Children Living In The Street

The children's stories affected me as if they were my own.

Ayo is seventeen and, let me tell you, he is Hollywood-handsome. He is one of the boys who has left a lasting impression on me. You cannot hear his plight and remain composed. Just try! You'll see. It's impossible.

When he was three years old Ayo's mom died. He and his older brother (by eight years) found themselves having to leave where they lived and head out onto the street. From the time of his birth, Ayo didn't really know his own

father, and so his brother became that figure. They'd rummage around throughout Lagos in pursuit of food.

Eventually Ayo's older brother got a job as a bus conductor. Then one day the older brother went to work and didn't come back. Now barely ten-years old, Ayo had to fend for himself.

He began running with a pack of young boys out by Kuramo Beach. Some would hustle up food and give him; sometimes he'd gamble to eat. Once some men tried to kidnap him but he darted and ran away.

All together Ayo spent between six and seven years on the street before the Home found him out in Kuramo Beach. Since then, he's been in school and living with some structure. Ayo loves table tennis and wants to be a champion.

Another boy i interviewed was Damilare has lived in the home for six years. His parents, he states, are still alive but were too poor to send him to school. When I asked him about the circumstances that brought him to Almighty God Compassion Care Home, it was a little strange how he stuttered and stammered. He claimed he himself didn't understand those circumstances and I couldn't help wondering if whatever it was that delivered him to the Home was too painful for him to talk about or admit. It was very disturbing, disheartening and touching to see such a strapping boy so helpless. 

But Damilare perked up when talking about what the Home meant to him and how it has changed his life. He states that the Home is like a training ground that would prepare him for his future and get him in line spiritually, mentally and physically. 

Damilare wants to be the minister of power.

Kasim Michael was another boy I interviewed. Like Damilare, his parents were also alive but could not afford to send him to school. Kasim is extremely composed and articulate.

 

Kasim came to the Home in 2013 and is in school. He wants to study business admin- istration. I can see him owning a business.

The Almighty God Compassion Care Home has existed for nine years and Pastor Sam says it is a "rehabilitation" facility for street boys who either have no where else to go or whose parents are too poor to pay for their education. Most of the boys aren't orphans; still, most have been placed in schools where they can learn both academics AND a trade-all paid for through the Home.

"Before we found them they were maladjusted..." Pastor Sam said.

He makes the case that education is the best tool to equip the boys for a successful transition into adulthood and into society.

"Even if we save one percent of a million...if we help the person...that person can help others and then society begins to change."

Overall, my day was a great learning experience. I learned about the Almighty God Compassion Care Home; I learned about individual boys, their resilience and dedication to better themselves; and when my editor Kaya Omodele called on WhatsApp to interact with the boys, I learned that he has a soft spot for the homeless and street kids (I'll have to wring that out of him)

Even though some of their stories brought tears to my eyes, that was a good day.

~ Benny at The Abeng

https://youtu.be/Mn_Zlx5U9WQ

Watch "Benny @ The Abeng Africa: Children at Almighty God Compassion Care Home" on YouTube
https://youtu.be/Po8QA8Kx9-w

You can email Pastor Sam, Mama and The Almighty God Compassion Care Home at alooluwakorede@gmail.com

The Abeng Interviews Quai54, Paris Creator Bah-Pna Dahane (Part 2)

The Quai54 Originator: Bah-Pna Dahane Interview 

by Kaya Omodele @TheAbeng

Read Part One of This Bah-Pna profile here

"This tournament was first and foremost a celebration of Blacks at its best on the French soil - a country that owes its freedom to the blood of black soldiers from Africa, America and the Caribbean." ~ Bah-Pna Dahane

Bah-Pna, Ralph 'Big Poppa' Greene and rookie Anthony William Parker

@TheAbeng: Greetings, Bah-Pna. Your reason for keeping the Quai54, Paris tournament a creation and production by Blacks was very Garveyite in principle. What was the biggest challenge you faced in respect to maintaining this goal?

BPD: Hi Kaya. No one knew it was based on Garveyite principle. That was a secret I kept within myself. With French people, you have to be subtle like them. Now after all these years they look back and realize that they had the impression of controlling something. Like Mandela said. "Lead them from the back - and let others believe they are in front."

@TheAbeng: I see that hip-hop was a big influence on you. And, you said you listened extensively to Bob Marley's Redemption Song while planning the marketing campaign for the Quai54. You ever listen to dancehall reggae artist like Capelton, Sizzla, etc.

BPD: I listen to everything. Music is music, but the music most associated with basketball is hip-hop. I am not a very big fan of hip-hop per se. It's a music that has lost its core due to mercantilism. It became less educational and [mostly] entertainment. Today's hip-hop has killed black culture.

@TheAbeng: You have a point. By the way, did you know that the second verse of Redemption Song are words from a Marcus Garvey speech: "Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery...?"

BPD: I guess most of us grew up with Bob Marley's song and learned a lot from Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X's life as well. Malcolm X, who, as you know was a Garveyite, his father was also a Garveyite and most of Malcolm X's teachings were from Marcus Garvey.

@TheAbeng: Yeah, Man. So, which authors have you been reading lately?

BPD: The last three in December were Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Chinuah Achebe and Toni Morrison

@TheAbeng: How can we get young brothers and sisters in the black Diaspora to place more value in books (reading) than bling and sneakers?

BPD: It should start at home and we must learn what delayed gratification is all about. Bling-bling and sneakers is a way to be accepted because most of us are lost. Most of us blacks from the Diaspora are losing our roots and essence of being African and proud; therefore we fall into consumerism. We are willing to pa $200 for sneakers that cost $5 to make in China but wont put $20 in a book that will awaken us. Now we wake up and we see that those same Chinese, who make the $5 Jordan that Blacks are lining up to buy, are on the continent controlling our economy...

@TheAbeng: Jah Bless, Bredren. I thank you sincerely for this reasoning and your time.

BPD: Thank you Kaya

If you didn't read the first the first part of this interview catch the Bah-Pna Feature Profile here 

Bah-Pna Dahane Created The Quai54, Paris Streetball Tournament (Part 1)

How Bah-Pna Dahane Created The Quai54, Paris Streetball Tournament

by Kaya Omodele

Don't get it twisted and damn what you heard: Bah-Pna Dahane is the originator, the fire-blazing creator of Quai54, Paris, France's super-eminent street basketball tournament. Period. Born in Chad, Bah-Pna grew up in Lyon, France balling on various courts - swinging tennis racquets and shooting hoops. His love for sports would eventually lead him to earn a Masters degree in International Business and Marketing (he minored in Black Studies and Political Science) from Portland State University in Oregon in 1999. Education prepared Bah-Pna for the corporate sports marketing world and he's travelled extensively; but no matter where in the world his ventures take him, this brother is constantly sounding the Abeng, voicing out against racism wherever he finds it. Armed with the knowledge and spirit of Marcus Garvey, the brother reaches out regularly to uplift the consciousness of brothers and sisters around the Black (African) Diaspora. Such was the case when he envisioned Quai54, Paris.

"France's Racism is different than the United States'; France's racism is more subtle...like a gas you can't smell but will kill you slowly from the inside." ~ Bah-Pna

Being naturally athletic, at eleven years old Bah-Pna was selected as one of Lyon's best, budding tennis players and was awarded membership at an exclusive tennis club. That same year, he discovered the works of Nelson Mandela and also met French Open Champion Yannick Noah; both made big impressions on the Youth.

"Being the only black kid at the tennis club, I will never forget the special attention Yannick Noah gave me. That day in 1986, when he left us he waved good-bye to everyone, except me. He shook my hand, entered his car and winked at me before leaving."

This experience sowed the seed of giving back to his community that would later blossom beautifully in Bah-Pna's life.

Not long after, Bah-Pna developed a burning passion for basketball, which opened him to politically-conscious hip-hop and in turn, exposed him to film-maker Spike Lee's work, for which he has deep, long-lasting respect. Bah-Pna insists that after seeing Do The Right Thing, one can't help but be politically conscious.

As a young man in France, he promptly scrutinized any corporate staff he found short on black employees and executives. The brother blatantly refused to work for or support those companies where he found little or no blacks in the work force.

"I felt the same way as Bugging Out in Do The Right Thing. Where are black people besides the security guards?...

"You feel outraged when you are regularly referred [to] as 'black, but not like other blacks.' In France that statement means you are a sell-out, actually!"

Like many black, inner-city youth, Bah-Pna spent long hours practicing on basketball courts with dreams of making it to the NBA. It was during one of these sessions in 1995, the very day he realized his dream of playing in the League was falling short, that he linked up with Philippe Morin. The Nike executive was promoting the Nike Raid Outdoor Tournament, which duplicated the theme of Spike Lee's Urban Jungle sneaker commercial. Since Bah-Pna had an already growing admiration for Spike, he was naturally drawn to the project. 

Bah-Pna balling with Tim Hardaway

"I teamed up with Nike France only because the Nike Raid Outdoor Tournament was inspired by Spike Lee's Urban Jungle court  featuring Tim Hardaway...     

"...most importantly for many of us who grew up with the knowledge of Marcus Garvey, we were proud that the pan-African [flag] colors were showing up on the Raid Outdoor sneakers. Growing up with conscious rap music, we blacks from the African Diaspora living in France  had a voice and we were able to back it up with the history lessons coming from rap artists like Public Enemy...In most schools in France, we weren't taught about our real history, so those conscious rap artists influenced us to go to the libraries in order to build and strengthen our pride as human beings and people of black origin."

Working in sports marketing with Nike France led to future projects such as the Nike Euro Camp where Bah-Pna worked under the legendary Hall of Fame basketball coach George Raveling in 1997. By the time the Nike Battleground Tournament was up and running in 2002, Bah-Pna had graduated from Portland State and was Nike France's Basketball Marketing Manager, handling all aspects of business and marketing concerning basketball; he'd already worked with Coca-Cola France as a sports marketing consultant/liaison during the FIFA World Cup '98 in France; he'd created, coordinated and promoted a charity event called SLAM ATTITUDE from which proceeds were contributed to funding Dikembe Mutombo's hospital in the Democratic Republic of Congo. All these gigs gave Bah-Pna the necessary experience and contacts, and whetted his appetite, to birth his very own tournament.

The Quai54, Paris: The Mission

"Do not follow in the footsteps of the wise; seek what they sought."~ Osho

For this natural-born activist and socially-conscious brother, creating the basketball tournament that would one day be France's biggest street ball showcase was a social vision as complex as piecing together a 1000-piece, jigsaw puzzle.

"What many may have seen as a simple basketball tournament was for me a real political statement...My goal was to engineer an event created by blacks and operated by blacks, so we could have a real, black men-made event without begging others to do it for us."

It took many months of brainstorming; he knew he wanted this tournament to be black-owned but had no theme yet in mind. Then one day in 2002, while driving through Levallois with Philippe Morin (the now former Nike executive) to meet with the Paris basketball team, they passed a basketball court that became the catalyst for Bah-Pna's epiphany.

"My first time in NY was in 1995 when I won an award to go film my amateur documentary [about] the impact of street basketball in the U.S.A. When we drove past this location in Levallois, it reminded me of New York City..."

The street basketball-theme light flicked on. Bright.

"I drove back to the same playground the next day and started taking pictures. I sat down and I laid out all my inspiration. I started drawing certain logos and promised myself this tournament would be a success the day Jordan Brand sponsors it."

Bah-Pna's major concern was that the tournament had to be black-people oriented; that it must be a beacon for self-reliance of young, black men in France, to "show the white establishment of sports authority that we were more than just sneaker consumers with a bling-bling mentality."

Teach the Youth, Bahps...Talk to them!

With his objectives loaded in his mind, Bah-Pna took careful aim of his goal. He sought out the elders in his business and personal network and soaked in the wisdom they imparted upon him.

Ralph "Big Poppa" Green delivered an email during a meeting at Nike Headquarters in the Netherlands. "Watch out for Africa," the big man said, then shared stories about NBA great Hakeem Olajuwon struggling to complete projects in Nigeria.

Howard White and Kevin "The Katalyst" Carrol both reminded young Bah-Pna to give back to the community. Always!

When Bah-Pna travelled once again to NYC, Rucker Park Tournament's Gregory Marius kicked knowledge, telling him, "Stay true to yourself and they will follow!"

"Lead them from the back; let others believe they are in front."~ Nelson Mandela

From its inception, every detail of Quai54, Paris was a result of Bah-Pna's diligence and strategic planning. He designed down to the name itself. Each component was carefully considered, then laid and stitched with deliberate purpose and meaning. For example, the name "Quai54" itself: Africa consisted of 54 independent countries; Quai means pier or port. "As many know, during the Second World War, the capital of France was in Africa for some time. Black soldiers came from all ports to defend France from the tyranny of Nazism."

Bah-Pna kept tight focus on his mission and goal when he sought initial sponsorship. In his own words, he wanted to make sure the first sponsorship money would come from black-owned companies, and the remainder by anyone who believed in the cause of Black excellence. He was certain that if he gathered enough sponsorship money, he'd still be able to run the tournament if he fell short of landing a major brand's support.

Once Bah-Pna had gathered everything he needed, he searched  for someone to run the tournament - he needed a face, a front man. Eventually, he reached out to Philippe Saint and Jackie Blangonnet, who were both running the "Basketball en liberty" program.

"Philippe Saint was working for the French Basketball Federation. He was dealing with street basketball and was running this open gym in Paris' 13th district where everyone can go and play every day. I contacted him and told him clearly that I was looking for a young African man who loves basketball and hip-hop so he can be [my] front man."

Philippe Saint got back to Bah-Pna with the name of a player who was connected with hip-hop culture, adding that he could swing by the Porte de Choisy at the Hall Carpentier anytime after 6pm for a linkup introduction.

That's how Bah-Pna met Hammadoun Sidibe, the man who became the front man of Quai54, Paris.

Bah-Pna says:

"At the time I was working on the Nike Battleground [tournament] with Tony Parker and for the Nike account, so I couldn't run two events at the same time. When Mr. Saint introduced me to a fellow African [Sidibe], I explained to him that he would be the front man and all he had to do was connect the dots, the hip-hop environment and the basketball one and just carry the tournament as if it was his. All the marketing mix and connections with the officials and the brand was me, because my job at Nike opened many doors...

"It was important to me that black people take their destiny in hand even if it is a tournament." 

"Hypocrites and parasites/will come up and take a bite/and if your night should turn to day/a lot of people would run away..." ~Bob Marley; Who The Cap Fits

History is a carousel; there is nothing new under the sun. As was the case with Marcus Garvey's UNIA, some people only care about what they can get from a situation and so one must be careful about those he invites to his table. Like Garvey, Bah-Pna made the grave mistake of bringing the wrong, so-called African brother into his organization and giving this Judas-thief access. (Editor's Note: This man was not Hammadoun Sidibe; Bah-Pna has not revealed the name of this person to The Abeng.)

When asked why he no longer is part of a tournament he bled, sweated and shed tears over, why he didn't claim it, Bah-Pna responded.

"I had to take responsibility because the person I chose as the Chief Financial Officer ran away with the money. I had no choice than to take responsibility for the loss...

"I should have told the bank that we needed two signatures on the checks for all expenses. I didn't take care of that, so when cash from the sponsors came in, he took most of it and went back to the Motherland with his honey. Life happens, we live and learn...

"I couldn't fight my own black brothers...I decided not to argue and gave the ones I considered co-founders all of it. It was important to have this kind of reaction because we were all interdependent. I was the breadwinner at first, but without their input and connections, we wouldn't have been able to maintain the tournament all these years."

And so, without grudge or vindictive feelings, Bah-Pna relinquished his rights to Quai54.

Bah-Pna reiterates that his purpose in creating Quai54 was to show young black men in France, who believed in "the illusion of inclusion", that they could stand on their own two feet, deliver and be "accepted at our real value". He is adamant about the need for black people to hold ourselves in high esteem and value ourselves as more than consumers; that we see ourselves as creators, entrepreneurs, rulers of our own destinies.

"I wanted this tournament to create hope, so the black kids in France would find inspiration to become general managers, film makers or think in terms of becoming owners...

"Many blacks in France still have a sneaker mentality. You are more praised for the sneaker you have than the books. You are likely to find their room full of sneakers but no library with books."

Amen! Teach the Youth, Bahps; Sound di Abeng!


Read the second part to this interview

    

My Journey Getting Published by Kaya Omodele

My Publishing Journey

by Kaya Omodele @TheAbeng #TheAbeng

My book The Abeng and My Conscious Pen: Cries of Redemption is now in the hands of my editor.

The challenges getting a book published while behind a prison fence are many; obstacles jump up outta darkness like duppies/jumbies in the night. A problem will inevitably roll up like some old higue wanting to suck out all your energy and joy, threatening to transform your process into a nightmare.

But don't worry! Problems are mere opportunities to find creative solutions; so, fret not thyself. The ancient Egyptians found ways to time and harness the disastrous overflowing of the Nile; they converted destructive annual flooding into irrigation from which sprang one of the world's earliest and greatest civilizations. In other words, they made sugar outta ssshhhh (shingles ;-)  )

So, right about now, I'm saying "Big up!" to my very own team of ancient Egyptians:

• My editor Tynisha from Dasheen Magazine and Camelitta Ink & Co...
• My publisher Sabrina from Beneath The Surface, Publishing...
• My production manager/marketing and sales specialist Rene...
• And Midnight Express Books for helping me maintain The Abeng and My Conscious Pen platform, not to mention my sanity.

I give nuff thanks and honor, Ladies.

It takes a village, people.

Bless up,

Kaya Omodele

#TheAbeng #abeng

Abeng Chanting: Satta a Massagana, Igziabeher

Satta a massagana, Ahamlack #TheAbeng

I give thanks for my family and loved ones. There is no greater gift in life than the gift of Love.

In Amharic (the official language of Ethiopia), satta a massagana means "give thanks and praise"; Igziabeher means "Lord (or Ruler) of the Universe"; Ahamlack (or 'amlak) is a more common Amharic word meaning "god".

Blessed Love.

Kaya Omodele

HOW AND WHEN TO LET GO

                                      Abeng Prison Short Story: Letting Go

                                              copyright 2016 K. Omodele

He drags himself into the visitation booth and the girls are already standing there droopy-eyed, like a mother and her two puppies crunched up in a kennel-sized space.

Chassidy's the younger girl, the one with the puzzle-locked brows, eyes climbing them pus-colored, cinderblock walls. Realizing I'm on the other side of the Plexiglas, she slaps it. Her voice comes through the speak hole.

"Why you did'unt pick us up from school yesterday?"

He says nothing, just sits and locks his eyes tight for a second, willing himself onto their side of the glass.

Opens them and Chassidy catches his vibe.

"You was in there?"

She frowns, turns and gazes up at Stacy who bends and hugs his Goddaughter.

Stacy parts the two girls and takes a seat on the single stool.

When Chassidy spins back around to find him, a million and one pink-white-red barrettes dance like Tinkerbelles around her shoulders.

Stacy's daughter, Cam, pushes herself up to the glass. She's a few months older than Chass, but looks a full-year bigger, and they're sporting matching barrettes like the Williams sisters. Cam balls her mouth up in a pout.

"Miss Hunter was mad at you. She made us wait in her office for-" she looks at her fingers, counting."-hundred hours after school."

Stacy rolls her eyes. "She called me about 3:30. Had to up and leave work to go get them. You know the school don't like baby sitting."

Embarrassment swells and leaps into his throat and he can see them waiting, buses cleared out, teachers and other kids gone. Just the two of them, the last ones after school. Waiting for him.

Had been late a few times before; but ain't never been this late, though, not stuck-in-jail-outta-town-can't-get-back-to-Charlotte late. And after the third or fourth time, the principal Ms. Hunter kidnapped him in her office.

"You can't be late picking the girls up! If you can't pick them up by 3:00, enroll them in an afterschool program!"

He can see her now, pacing the sidewalk in the parking lot, checking her watch and straining her neck to see if he was pulling up. Then, she'd march the girls to the office then try my cell phone. After that, she'd call Stacy as last resort.

His whole face is blood-hot. Took a year for Chassidy to settle in, make friends at school, get use to living with Stacy and Cam. Her Daddy been locked up two years now, with over twelve more to go. Now, her Mama and Godfather behind bars, too, and they're 'bout to pull some time. The girl can't catch a break.

He sighs. I'm going through this bullshit, again??!

"Pupa-" Stacy pauses like she deciding what part of his head she can drop more problems. "They didn't want release the car so I got the lawyer to threaten them. He said the car wasn't part of nothing; they ain't find nothing in it, so they ain't had no right to confiscate it. So, they released it, but now it's in the pound and I gotta wait 'til tomorrow to get it. Five hundred dollars. For one night in the pound? AND, I gotta get Mommy to take off work to drive it back..."

blah...blah...blah...

He sits his head in his hands. Usually loves them soup-coolers she got; but right now, they keep yap-yap-yapping and all he can hear is the judge:

"Remand, without bail!"

Going through THIS bullshit, AGAIN??!

"Your Grandma called. I can't keep saying you outta town. Feel like I'm lying to the lady, Pupa."

She calls him Pupa, even though he's not her daughter's father. Hell, he ain't nobody's father; just been playing daddy, responsible for other people's children. Won't have a chance to have one of his own no time soon, either, the way shit looks now.

Stacy's eyes are bloodshot; lashes wet and pasty, like broken-down Tammy Baker. He touches the glass, wishing he could stroke the weariness from her face. Together, out there, they been  like Menelik and Taytu warring against the Italians. But this isn't his first ride and he knows how this will end.

The girls jockey for space between Stacy's legs and it turns into a rumble.

Stacy hisses. "Girls, fucking settle down! NOW!!"

The two freeze like that red-light, green-light game. Stacy hauls each one onto a knee.

Chassidy whines. "When you coming home?"

Now Cam goes. "You gonna pick us up tomorrow?"

"Pupa, what the fuck? I gotta put them in afterschool, at least 'til you get bail."

He looks her straight, through and through.

"Probably ain't getting no bail," he says.

The corners of her eyes turn down and the light on their side of the glass dims. Now he know it for sure- she ain't gonna make it on her own.

He clears his throat. "Look here! We ain't from around here, so they say I'm a flight risk. I got another bond hearing in two days but they gonna want a secured bond like a house deed."

"So, give them the house, then."

"Ain't enough equity in it. If they do gimme a bond, probably gonna be sky-high. You just gotta be strong for the girls now. Reign in all that spending."

Together, the girls chant. "You gonna pick us up tomorrow?"

He leans forward on his stool, touches the glass and remembers a movie scene where someone in jail did the exact same thing. Three hands shoot to the spot where his hand rests. His eyes get a little more moist than a man in jail should let his eyes get, so he struggles and strains but feels like the little boy with his finger in the dyke.

Then, a single, silent drop leaks out. But before it can stream down his face, he wipes it quick. And smiles.

Too late! Now they're on the other side of the glass, shedding tears.

Enough of this shit. He commands. "Ey, hold up! Don't cry!"

But none of them stop.

He lets them go on for a few minutes. Then asks:

"Cam, you behave yourself in school today? You gotta behave now; Stacy can't be taking off work to meet with your teachers 'cause you ain't got no behavior, you hear me? You can't get into trouble, now, I ain't there to run down to school."

Cam sniffles and fights to compose herself. Nods yes, lips trembling.

"Good! Don't let me hear you messing up, now. You gotta help me." He turns to Chass. "And, You; you gotta feed Merciless and Castro for me, every day."

Chass releases, softly. "OK," with a fraudulent shyness, because he knows she's giddy inside. She loves feeding and bathing them Rottweiler pups. She sinks back into Stacy's buxom.

"When you gonna come home." Sticks her thumb in her mouth.

"I don't know yet."

Cam, wet-eyed, stares his jump suit up and down. "They not gunna let you come home?"

Chassidy removes her thumb with a smack. "No Cam. He's in jail. Like my Daddy." She sounds like Ms Hunter, the principal. Turns to me, thinks, then says, "You hafta tell them dat you gotta pick us up from school. Den they gunna hafta let you come home."

"Yeeeaaah." Cam co-signs like it's the best idea since mac and cheese for breakfast.

Stacy rolls her eyes and grins. For the first time today, there's a radiance lining the room.

But he knows this is the beginning of the end. He hears change rolling up rapidly like a prison-bound bus. He knows from experience that chances are slim, even if Stacy doesn't realize it herself. Things won't be the same as yesterday.

He's torn whether to tell her now or later. Was it too soon? Should he wait?

"Listen!" He feels a knife slicing through him, deeply and repeatedly. "Next time you come, don't bring the girls."

The girls whine. "Whyyyy??"

His heart drops but it's inevitable, the way this familiar dance ends. It's just a matter of time before he's left clutching a bag of memories.

"Stacy, I need to talk to you alone. Don't bring them next time!"

She looks confused.

He'll let them go, then.

Where's My Hometown? Parts Unknown

By Kaie "Kaya" Omodele @theabeng

Parts Unknown with Anthony Bourdain proper served me up some real mind-racking, soul-searching food two Saturday nights ago when they re-ran a show featuring Ethiopia and Ethiopian-Swedish-American chef Marcus Samuelsson. You know how Bourdain does so love to delve down into the history of one of them "Parts-Unknown" countries, exploring its socio- economic complexities, so as to better understand the context of all the pot and pan stirring, finger licking and liquor drinking? (Which in truth is what keeps me hunting down this show because, for me it's not all about food, it's all about the story) Well, this episode a couple weeks ago followed Mr. Samuelsson during one of his returns to Ethiopia as he visited relatives and his wife's hometown. When Mr. Bourdain asked him where he considered home, the blank look that rolled across Mr. Samuelsson's face drew me in like a rum head staring down a bottle of 25-year-old Gold Label.

Mr. Samuelsson tussled with this stumper then teetered a reply like probably Harlem (where he now lives, owns and operates a gourmet restaurant); Sweden- enhhhh, enhhh; Ethiopia- not so much. Maybe he sounded a little bit more decisive than that, but that's all I gathered, disconnection. Which I recognized immediately because I get that same feeling sometimes when I stop and think about where in the world I consider my "hometown." Such is one song of an immigrant.

See, like Mr. Samuelsson who emigrated from Ethiopia to Sweden as a young child, and later on to the United States, I've trotted 'round a few countries, cities and towns, myself. I went to school in six different cities* before I was eighteen years old, seven cities if I count my Pre-K at my tow great-aunts' school in New Amsterdam. My longest stint in any of them was four years at Watooka Day Primary in Linden. My oldest friendships today began on that school compound and my first chups** was under the mango tree. (Big up Nikki and Rosie, Butchie an M-Lo; somehow, someway our friendship has lasted through decades, social mediaed over seas and Skyped clear 'cross continents) We got war-break memories with the boyz and ring-game memories with the girls, so Linden definitely tugs at my heartstring.

But then, I have coming-of-age, rites-of-passage memories floating 'round Brooklyn, where I  kissed the girls then made a one or two cry. Starlite Ballroom, Love People ONE, Village Hut, Caribbean City and Caribbean Dome. The County of Kings is where I began to smell myself, for real.

Whatever his reason for calling Harlem home, I find it hard to connect with one, single hometown. What matters most to me are my connections with people that have touched my life. I cherish moments. My mind drifts to a city and automatically recalls an experience shared with someone in a specific moment. In all my triumphs and failures, in every embrace or fight, through torrents of tears or gut-wrenching laughter, I've lived. "Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home."

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** Kiss