Creative writing from the Conscious I- thoughts, reflections and ideas expressed in urban literature, Caribbean-themed prose and poetry. This blog celebrates the African Diaspora.
Trayvon Martin Protest - Sanford (Photo credit: werthmedia)
I been observing this whole tragedy, this Trayvon Martin incident and couple ah things are as shine, clear and bright like .357 Magnum in the tropical night. First: racial profiling in Amerikkka is prominent. Second: in the shitstem, a young Black life is as insignificant now as it was in the days of Native Son/ Bigger Thomas. And I don't think this perception about the devalued life worth of young Africans/youth of African descent is limited to Amerikkka, it's a global phenomenon.
Imagine that in this age of information or misinformation, people are still being judged by what they wear and how they look. In Truth, Trayvon had a right to be in the neighborhood, his father lived there. What made him suspect? The reasons Zimmerman perceived him as a threat was because he was Black and young. Like Yusef Hawkins and countless others, Trayvon was killed because of his profile, for how he was perceived as a Black youth. You think if Trayvon woulda been White and wearing the said hoodie in the rain in that community Zimmerman woulda track him down and kill him? Listen to the 911 tapes, Zimmerman sounds calculating, like he's setting up a defense for what he knows he wants to do. And when the 911 operator tells him not to follow the retreating Trayvon, Zimmerman ignores the advice and follows the boy anyway. He tracks him down. Confronts. Slays.
Is like if young, Black men are bearing the cross-hairs for crime in societies round di world.
In an urban landscape which crumpled my soul Where ulterior motives are brushstrokes by shardy images of an elusive and scarred-face dream, I barely noticed when two I-ngels* sighed.
In the solace of an early summer lake in May, when bird chat was an Ella-scat, and while soothing powder blue caressed over luscious green and jerk-seasoned smoke, I clearly saw two I-ngels smile.
This fog-filled Sunday morning, just one hour after the cock did crow, a mother snatches some dung-smeared eggs right from under a fowl and runs some stand pipe water over them. She storms through a back door clutching three warm eggs, tracking mud on the hand-polished, hardwood floor with her Bata slippers.
She sits the eggs inna old enamel bowl and turns to her son and squares off, hand akimbo. Brows dig furrows while her eyes fling daggers at her eleven-year old boy. He lowers his eyes. She wrinkles her mouth around a word but then press her lips taut as a goat-skin drum.
"Un-GOD-ly? So they say."
Shejabs a finger in his chest with every thumping syllable.
"I more spiritual than whole heap ah hypocrite wha' you see go to church every week, whether 'pon Sat'day or two time 'pon Sunday. Ah sure I more righteous than thiefin' Parson Brown with them t'ree pickney and t'ree different babymother outta di same damn congregation."
Her son's back is pressed against the rough, board wall.
"Mek ah tell yuh dis, mih Son! See here, going to church don't mek nobody Godly or righteous. Nuff ah them in church 'pon Sunday, dirty and bad mind. I don't have to go to nobody church to pray; live and treat people good. Yuh have One single Almighty but plenty ways fi express yuh love for Him. Every church want say their way is the one an' only way. That is wha' yuh call religion an' doctrine. I don't deal with religion; I deal with culture. Seven culture have seven different ways of expressin' love for The Mos' High. But, Son, when yuh want talk to God, if yuh really want talk to HIM and feel HIM, don't bother look around out deh for HIM."
She grips his sagging shoulder firm with one hand, but caresses his chest gently with the next.
"Yuh muss find Jah within yuh heart, mih Son. A church will only give you belief an' faith.The pastor or di priest can tell you bout rituals and rites. How after the cow jump over di moon, she drop dead and mek horse fat. But yuh want find spirituality? Know yourself and yuh will find divinity within." The boy pick up his chin off his chest, hoists it up high.
We must canonize our own saints, create our own martyrs, and elevate to positions of fame and honor black men and women who have made their distinct contributions to our racial history. ~ Marcus Garvey
I only gave voice to words of freedom and brotherhood, words they couldn't accept. Just words. ~ Patrice Lumumba
A whole heap ah lessons can be learned from ourstory, Black stories, African stories. Anytime I think 'bout PatriceLumumba, the Divide and Rule conceptbounce 'round mi brainand I can hear Jah Cure chant 'bout how it "is their only plan...." I, Kaya, done say it already: the so-called Cold War was actually fought in the Third World amongst poor people. The so-called Super Powers only postured and plotted, and is we in the Caribbean and Africa and Asia who actually bust we gun, killing we own people, in the name of Capitalism, Socialism or Communism. "We sick an tired of yuh ism, schism."
Patrice Lumumba was charismatic and warm,and at the time theonly Congolese leader who genuinely stood firm for anti-tribalism, anti-regionalism, anti-imperialism, and African Unity. Like Walter Rodney, he was quick to speak out 'gainst fuckery- that is, exploitation and oppression. The man proudly wore the robe of African Nationalism. But you done know, the powers that be couldn't stand to see a strong, fully independent Congo, united and in control of her own natural resources.
Patrice Hemery Lumumba was born on July 2, 1925 in Onalua, in Kasai, Congo. In a country made up of a couple hundred tribes/ethnic groups, he was the son of farmers who belonged to one of the smallest- the Batetela ethnic group. Back in them days Congo was a colony of belgium and Lumumba was mostly Western-educated, he attended Christian primary and secondary schools. He became a postal clerk and was an active member of the évolués(Western educated Africans and Asians). He wrote essays and poems for Congolese publications and press. Just reading about his earlier life, one could think Lumumba woulda been the perfect colonial puppet, once Congo became independent in 1960. But nah, man. The belgians flung him in prison twice, first for embezzlement of post office funds and later for inciting an anti-colonial riot. He helped found theMouvement National Congolais(MNC)* in '58, and eventually became president of this organisation. In December that said year, Lumumba and a team of MNC members attended the All-African Peoples' Conference in Accra, Ghana. Hosted byKwame Nkrumahof Ghana and this event served like steel sharpening steel- Lumumba honed his Pan-Africanist focus and his tone grew into militant nationalism after attending this conference.
Leading up to independence in 1960, belgium knew it had a problem with Patrice Lumumba's popularity amongst his people. He was staunchly nationalist and was against tribal division, conflict and war. In other words, he was against Divide and Rule. He fire-burned the cloak of neo-colonialism. When the belgians held a round table conference in brussels to stage who and who would run Congo, which leaders were "suitable" to protect belgian interests- especially the resource-rich Katanga and South Kasai states/provinces, it was really a ploy of picking puppets.
Lumumba at the time was in jail on the riot charge**, but his MNC party members and supporters in brussels refused to participate without Lumumba, they demanded his freedom.
Babylon released the chains and Lumumba was flown in to brussels. The man stepped in to the conference room hours after sitting in a cell.
Elections were held in May. Over 120 mostly ethnic or regional parties participated. But the MNC united across ethnic lines and regional divisions and triumphed. The party named the thirty-four year old Lumumba the country's first Prime Minister.Joseph Kasavubu of Abako (Alliance des Ba-Kongo, organ of the Bakongo, one of the largest ethnic groups in the Congo) was made President.
Then came Independence Day, June 30th. The ceremony in which the belgians "handed over" the Congo to the Congolese deliberately excluded Patrice Lumumba. In fact, leading up to the ceremony, king baudouin paraded around the capital in a car with Joseph Kasavubu. (The newly formed constition named the prome misnister the supreme power and the president the ceromonial leader) During the ceremony, Prime Minister Lumumba was excluded from speaking and sat quietly observing. But after the belgian king's paternalistic speech about how "...The independence of the Congo is the crowning of the work conceived by the genius of king leopold II, undertaken by him with courage and continued by Belgium with perseverance...", Lumumba could restrain himself no longer. He rose, took the podium and delivered his famous Tears, Blood and Fire speech, reminding the world: "...no Congolese worthy of the name will ever be able to forget that it was by fighting that it has been won, a day-to-day fight, an ardent and idealistic fight, a fight in which we were spared neither privation nor suffering, and for which we gave our strength and our blood. We are proud of this struggle, of tears, of fire, and of blood, to the depths of our being, for it was a noble and just struggle, and indispensable to put an end to the humiliating slavery which was imposed upon us by force..." Read Prime Minister Lumumba's Independence Day Speech in full (AKA The Tears, Blood and Fire Speech"
It was this speech that sealed Patrice Lumumba's fate.
In the days and months that followed, the country descended into chaos. Divisions formed along ethnic and regional lines. Other Congolese political leaders exploited their associations and ties, but Patrice held on to his Nationalist conviction, determined that one, undivided nation would be the best approach. "The more closely united we are, the better we will resist oppression, corruption, and those divisive maneuvers which experts in the policy of 'divide and rule' are resorting to." When the mineral-rich province Katanga seceded under GeneralMoïse Tshombe, it was done with belgium's support. After all, belgium had economic interest in the Katanga region and was nervous of Lumumba's nationalist views. Since it was newly independent nation with an inexperienced army, Lumumba appealed to the UN and even America for assistance in keeping Congo unified. When neither helped, Lumumba asked the Soviet Union for planes to help move troops to the Katanga region. This further alarmed belgium and America. Kasa-vubu, with his more moderate tone dismissed Lumumba as Prime minister. Patrice in turn announced the dismissal of Kasa-vubu from presidency. So now you had two seperate governments claiming legitimacy. Now up comes Colonel Joseph Mobutuwith his CIA- backed coup d'etat, taking advantage of the weak, divided government. Mobutu deposed both leaders and placed Lumumba under house arrest.
Lumumba then briefly escaped but Mobutu's troops quickly tracked him down and put him on a flight to Leopoldville. They paraded him, beaten and humiliated, in front of journalists and diplomats. Then at Mobutu's villa the Prime Minister was further humiliated when he was beaten in front of TV cameras for the world to see. Still, belgium wanted more blood and demanded that Lumumba be delivered to GeneralMoïse Tshombe of Katanga. Mobutu complied and Lumumba was again beaten savagely during the flight to Elizabethvillewherehe was seized by Katangan soldiers led by belgian commanders. On January 17, 1961, Patrice Lumumba was killed by firing squad commanded by a belgium officer. His body was then chopped up, dismantled and dissolved in sulfuric acid to hide evidence.
When I analyze the stench, Mobutu was backed by the CIA because he screamed anti-communism. Tshombe was backed by the belgians because he did their bidding and could be manipulated. Kasavubu was a moderate. But Patrice Lumumba was just too independent/non-aligned for the Europeans and Americans. Remember, this was the Cold War era. African nations were gaining independence from the colonizers, who were determined to install puppets. Lumumba stood firm and refused to be controlled. So babylon used their brains, divided and conquered. And though they may taint Lumumba every chance they get, it is up to us to uphold his legacy. Never gone, Never forgotten!
** The belgian government planned a five-year program that would eventually grant Congo independence. The program was to begin with elections in December 1959, but the MNC cited, and sighted, this as a deliberate plot to place belgian puppets in the government before independence. The nationalist declared they were boycotting the elections. The belgians fired back with oppression and persecution. On October 30 there was a clash in Stanleyville and thirty people died.
Patrice Lumumba Speaks: “Slavery was imposed on us by force! We have known ironies and insults. We remember the blows that we had to submit to morning, noon and night because we were Negroes!”
"We are neither Communists, Catholics nor socialists. We are African nationalists. We reserve the right to choose our friends in accordance with the principle of positive neutrality."
"Who will ever forget the massacres where so many of our brothers perished; the cells into which those who refused to submit to a regime of injustice, oppression and exploitation were thrown?" (referring to atrocities committed against the Congolese people by the belgians since the time of the time of the Congo Free State)
Question: "Some of your political opponents accuse you of being a Communist. Could you reply to that?"
Lumumba's Answer: "This is a propagandist trick aimed at me. I am not a Communist. The colonialists have campaigned against me throughout the country because I am a revolutionary and demand the abolition of the colonial regime, which ignored our human dignity. They look upon me as a Communist because I refused to be bribed by the imperialists."
(From an interview to a "France-Soir" correspondent on July 22, 1960)
Your favorite revolutionary's favorite revolutionary: “...the greatest black man who ever walked the African continent. He didn’t fear anybody. He had those people [the colonialists] so scared they had to kill him. They couldn’t buy him, they couldn’t frighten him, they couldn’t reach him.”
~ Malcolm X (speaking about Lumumba at an Organisation of Afro-American Unity rally in 1964)
“We must move forward, striking out tirelessly against imperialism. From all over the world we have to learn lessons which events afford. Lumumba’s murder should be a lesson for all of us.”
~Che Guevara Tweet
The African world-view regarding ancestors as an integral part of the living community makes it so much easier to identify a given generation with the struggles of an earlier generation. -Walter Rodney
February has been made Black History month. And since many school systems neglect our global African voice, we must feed our youth black stories year round and integrate ourstory in their everyday educational growth and development. Don't rely on schools to be the main source of cultural information, then get disappointed when they fall short- hoist up some initiative.
Jah know, Kaya. Black I-story, di subject so big an brawling, I don't know weh fi start.
Mi Bredren, choose a story or event you most knowledgeable about or that intrigues you the most. My own main goal is catch the youth interest, make them want go study it for themself.
All I know is about Black history here in ______(fill in the blank). I don't know nuttn bout nowhere else.
That good. Start with what you know. But realize that Black people have been dispersed around the world, many through slavery, and as a result our stories also thrive and exist in places like Bahia, Brazil and Ponce, Puerto Rico. One of our duties as parents and elders is to infuse the youth with a sense of identity.
KAYA, stop chat foolishness! I said I don't know nuttn bout no African Diaspora.
Find someone knowledgeable that you know and respect then. Have them story tell like a griot. Gather reading material.
Feed the youth and let them grow. Feed dem knowledge, watch wismind (wisdom) increase.
You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them. ~Desmond Tutu
On November twenty-first, di whole tribe come together for my Granny ninetieth Earthday. We travelled from crevices and corners, over hills and through valleys, from all over the globe, literally. I grinned 'round di hall from tables of Elders to young mothers with suckling, realizing that four generations worth of ourstory was gathered together. This was really an' truly a family reunion.
The Tables of Elders was like a council and Granny sat as regal as Yaa Asantewaa.
As her eldest grandpickney, I was the first one of my generation to make a speech. Spent a whole night writing it, just tru I write better than I talk. But when the time came, I just stood there gazing at Granny and my Tribe. Then words just tumbled straight out mi heart and soul. Yeah man, had a chat with the whole tribe of family and friends 'bout what my Granny means to me.
My heart wrap up in a smile whole night.
Granny is real, not just this rickety-frame, cotton wool-hearted, caricature grandmother. She is complex. One of the things I love about her is she is vibrantly mischievous-her wit is a file, her tongue, a cutlass. She gets a twinkle in her eye just as she bout fi swing di blade. She and her sister, my Great Aunt, have this ongoing war of wits that, truss mi, will mek yuh laff till yuh belly buss.
Having family, relatives and friends in the same building one time, I could feel the genuine love. As a whole, my tribe is very supportive of one another, individually and collectively. We don't have much backbiting and envy among wiself and, so, we love come together and celebrate. Suh wi stay. And dance? We love that. We will keep a birthday party for the pickney dem, then turn it right 'round into a birthnight dance hours later- fi di big people dem.
When my aunt spoke about my uncle, cousin and grandfather who have all ascended to the ancestors, I felt their presence. I mean that literally. Their Life Force burns on, hasn't been extinguished by the passing of flesh nor the winds of time. Is honor saluting love when we reminisce about ascended family, f'real.
The whole event was a moment I will forever cherish, Jah know. Four generations ah mi tribe danced together to Reggae, Soca and oldies. I couldn't help wondering, in this age of upward mobility, in this "land of prosperity", how many more generations would keep up our tradition of gathering the Tribe for celebration. Will our children's children honor the tradition?
"You want to send me to jail? Fine, you go right ahead. I've been in jail for 400 years. I could be there for 4 or 5 more, but I ain't going no 10,000 miles to help murder and kill other poor people. If I want to die, I'll die right here, right now, fightin' you, if I want to die. You my enemy, not no Chinese, no Vietcong, no Japanese. You my opposer when I want freedom. You my opposer when I want justice. You my opposer when I want equality. Want me to go somewhere and fight for you? You won't even stand up for me right here in America, for my rights and my religious beliefs. You won't even stand up for my right here at home."
~Muhammad Ali
You have to respect Muhammad Ali's stance. If you know the story, there is no way not to admire the way he licked out against injustice. At the time, he was the undisputed, heavy-weight champion of the world. He was as recognizable as any president or prime minister. He was loved by millions who considered him out spoken and confident. He was maybe hated by millions also, because that said confidence was seen by some as brash and boastful. In any case , Ali was seen by many Black people as a conscientious Brother with a mad swag and charisma, one who would was never 'fraid to chat how We feel. The situation was laden with irony: the source of Ali's fame and livelihood was the said system he was lashing out against.
There are many facets and layers to this story. The Vietnamese War caused rift between Americans, Black or White. It was part of the whole Cold War posturing between the U.S. and U.S.S.R, and many of us in the so-called Third World were affected by the "super powers" insistence that countries line up with one or the other. Many of us in the Caribbean and Africa felt the ramifications of political friction- Capitalist vs Socialist propaganda and manipulation, CIA vs KGB coercion.
At the time, Black people in America were going through the fight for civil rights. Many of the Brothers and Sisters in the military were in conflict over their feelings of loyalty for the Black Struggle and commitment to patriotic duty. Refusing induction into the military to fight what he felt was an unjust war was a bold statement- a Twentieth-century act of Revolt.
When I look at old media takes, film and interviews, Ali was adamant, yet dignified in his statements against the war. When he mentioned his solidarity with poor people world wide, his voice is pounding with conviction. His refusal to go fight in Vietnam wound him up in court, facing prison time, being stripped of his boxing title and losing millions of dollars. Even though he was eventually offered a "soft" position in the military where he wouldn't face any fighting, Ali still refused to be drafted, based on his religious beliefs.
Jah know, Muhammad Ali's stance against the system is the reason I consider him the Greatest (fighter of all time).
For I, Kaya, meditation is the path I take when I engage in communion with the Divinity within me-
i & I.
As a youth my Mother introduced me to meditation as a way of calming me because I use to have an acute case of asthma and a wicked case of vexation of the spirit and those two, when mixed, can drive a single mother clear up over a mad house wall. So she traipse me over to this Hindu man who showed two ah we lessonsindhyāna. I have been meditating ever since then, on and off.
People have been meditating in various forms for thousands of years. Many cultures have their own forms of meditation, while others overlap, sharing similar elements and traits. But regardless of minute differences, most people and cultures meditate as a part of attaining higher spirituality, or as Rasta seh, a Iyah Ites (higher heights).
There are certain common features in all meditation, regardless of culture: a quiet/peaceful setting, concentration/focus/attention, a comfortable position, relaxed breathing.
There are also various ways people meditate. Some are:
using imagery or visualization of mentally relaxing places;
silently repeating a spiritually/mentally calming word, phrase or thought (mantra) to help keep out distractions;
using an increased sense of awareness to concentrate/experience the present through broadened senses such as smells, sounds;
transcendental, which is using mantra to eliminate all thoughts from the mind.
and yoga, which involves performing postures and controlling breathing exercises to achieve healthier body and a calmer mind.
Meditation helps alleviate many stress-related illnesses like asthma, high blood pressure, heart disease, migraines and fatigue.
When I meditate, I remain still and embrace the stillness of mind. Most times I chant a mantra, but sometimes when in nature, I immerse myself in the sounds, smells, and feel of my surroundings.
I love meditating by the sea, fountains, streams and rivers because the sound of water dancing over rocks calms my soul. And if birds flock by, they bring chirps and flapping, flittering feathers to the orchestra.
When I have no phones ringing, computers blinking, cars beeping, and nothing demanding my attention, I can feel myself drifting within my mind. I often find that my thoughts continue rolling involuntarily, and so I refocus on my mantra, sounds and sensations around and/or within me. When I get to that space within where there is very little thought outside of natural phenomenon- my heartbeat, the breeze,etc., my mind is peaceful and relaxed. I've decreased my negative thoughts and energy while increasing self-awareness and positivity.
I read somewhere once that when we calm ourselves in meditation, our neurotransmitters rest from sending on thoughts/electric charges to our minds. Its like a deep form of rest.
This powerful image first snagged up my attention as a youth when I flipped through a magazine and BRRAAP!- it shat, and has imprinted my imagination for decades. Though I couldn't overstand all the symbolism and implications when I was younger, I felt the power of rebellion exploding from the expression caught in time. Without knowing the fullness, the Black fists raised in salute pounded an impression in my psyche that I will always identify with, truss mi. And as I grew, I deciphered the symbolism embedded in the image, like narrative scribed in hieroglyphics. When I began seriously writing, it was only then that I fully comprehended the strength packed, loaded and framed in this moment.
For those like me who never even born when this incident tek place, it was at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City during the 200 meter track medal ceremony. In the middle is the winner of the event, Gold Medalist Tommy Smith (USA) and on the right is Bronze Medalist John Carlos (USA). The man on the left is Silver Medalist Peter Norman (Australia).
This action screamed REVOLT for many reasons. The first thing is that political statements are a big NO-NO at the Olympics. Next thing, we talking bout the 60's, the era of the Civil Rights Movement, world wide Black discontent, protests and riots, from L.A. to Detroit to Sharpeville, South Africa. Remember it was the in the Sixties when His Imperial MajestyHaile Selassie declared that "Until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited..." AND, don't forget, the Bredren were wearing the good ole USA akkkross their chests and representing the land of their birth; yet, they still identified with and declared solidarity with The Struggle of The People.
The Brothers stepped on the podium with their black-socked feet , symbolizing the poverty of Black people in America. Tommie, from Texas, draped a black scarf around his neck that stood for Black pride. John Carlos, a Cuban American from Harlem, wore beads that represented "those individuals that were lynched, or killed and that no-one said a prayer for, that were hung and tarred. It was for those thrown off the side of the boats in the middle passage."
When the Brothers raised their fists in Black Power Salute it was an act of total defiance and a statement of protest against a system that oppressed Black people. (Tommie later declared in his autobiography Silent Gesture that it was a human rights salute)
I must note that Peter Norman, the Australian, stood in protest with Brothers and all three of them wore the badge of the Olympic Project for Human Rights (OPHR). Norman had been outspoken against Australia's White Australia Policy so he empathized with Tommie and John, even suggesting that they each wear one of Tommie's glove after John had forgotten to bring his own pair to the track.
Well yuh done know, the backlash from the statement was tremendous. The Brothers were suspended from the USA Olympic Track Team. Upon returning home, they received death threats from good ole Americans. Tommie Smith said, "If I win, I am American, not a Black American. But if I did something bad, then they would say I am a Negro. We are black and we are proud of being black. Black America will understand what we did tonight."
And overstand we did, Bredren. I think Black people the world over felt you. I give thanks.
How many of us would've had the dignity and courage to express ourselves on the world stage in such a way that would possibly affect our very livelihood?
Blessed Love. Today I begin my New Year and so I man rise giving thanks to the Almighty for granting one more earthly revolution around the sun. In striving for Balance, I realize that this Journey called Life is not a hundred- meter dash but much like a marathon in which endurance is paramount- so I approach the race less like Usain Bolt and more like Haile Gebrselassie - with great stride and diligent pace.
One lesson I've learned is how to cherish moments, even as time rushes by like a tormented stream. I make concentrated efforts to breathe-in, internalize experiences and feel the moments. I am grateful for everyone who shares, or has shared, my journey in some point along the way.
I Arise every time I stumble. I rise, brush off, reveling in this journey, knowing both great joys and pains, embracing the warming sun and facing pelting rains. Mek each experience stimulate growth and development because stagnation is death.
Jah Bless each and every one, collectively.
There are over six billion people on Jah Earth...There is only ONE LOVE!
Build more bridges; less walls and fences. This is my New Year.
"When the truth awakens in you, you can't do anything but accept the truth." ~ Bob Marley
Mäskäräm 1, the first day in the first month of a new year in Ethiopia. In Amharic, the official language of Ethiopia, the word for New Year is Enkutatash* while in Ge'ez** the term is Ri'se Awde Amet.***
Enkutatash is traditionally an important day to Ethiopians. When Makeda returned from her visit to King Solomon, her chiefs gave her enku, jewels. Enkutatash has since been celebrated in the spring, which follows a three-month rain season. It is a time to celebrate new life, rebirth, a beginning, new hopes and dreams. ***Ras Awde Amet literally Head Anniversary. This term is preferred by the EOC/Ethiopian Coptic
Ethiopia and Egypt
The date traditionally is important in the ancient African Valley as it marks the the highest point of annual inundation of the River Nile and is recognized by Coptic traditions of the region as the end of Noah's flood. The Blue Nile flows from Lake Tana in the Highlands of Ethiopia while the White Nile flows through Sudan. They converge into one great river and its inundations represent annual resurrection and rebirth. Realize that an intimate connection between Egypt and Ethiopia has existed from ancient times. Recall that even from the Twenty-first Dynasty the two countries were sometimes under the same ruler and so, naturally, culture, arts, religion and philosophy were effectively interwoven.
In Egypt, the first month of the Season of 'Akhet'(Inundation) is called Thout. Today September 11 is Thout 1 on the Coptic calendar. The Ethiopian Calendar and The Egyptian Coptic Calendar are closely related and the names of months being the major difference. Both are derived from the ancient Egyptian Calendar
*Enkutatash እንቁጣጣሽ is literally "gift of jewels"
**Ge'ez is an ancient Ethiopian language from which Ahmaric is derived. Ge'ez is the official language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church
