Ode to Hip Hop

A tribute to Q-Tip

Who can make it up, dark age is here in rap
And the constant conversation has been let's bring it back
Corny rap style singers they lack the pedigree
Swimming in deep waters when they're just a manatee
Who me I'm unaffected the Whale, the Hammerhead
The Magnanimous decision, unanimous, I am fed
What are you looking at, wait, I can help you with that
I'm the formidable, unforgettable painting Abstract
In the wall amongst them all from Tucson Michelle
A commodity, hot property, hears the morning bell
Guantanama bay prisoners deferring routes

Your soliloquies are trash inferring that you got clout
Homie, whats that about? You should revisit your scheme
Before the scheme that seems real, reverts back to a dream
Into that pea head of yours
You aint commanding no tours
You seeing fee per deim
We seeing that in the doors
Plus a little bit more because she choosing the prettiest
Though while they is wittiest
On the low we the grittiest
Taking the task, these barbaric insurgents
From nursery rhyme kids and play like they crime figures
Man, what could give you such a naive belief?
There's examples all around of careers being brief

Africa is not a country

This article is long overdue...

I have bitten my tongue for far too long and it’s about time I come out and declare to the majority of the media world; Africa is a continent not a country. Contrary to popular belief Africa is not just a mass lump of under feed individuals guided by the deluded hegemonies of highly corrupted political parties, nor is it an excuse for has been rock stars to reignite their dormant profiles by throwing tasteless music concerts. Believe it or not this Country – excuse me Continent is home to more than 900 million inhabitants all divided into fifty-three countries, it also has over a thousand different indigenous languages. It’s amazing how such a nation can be reduced to sweeping generalisation, disregarding all its accomplishment past and present. When I hear about how primitive and uneducated Africans are, a pain reverberates all around my body and I think about the great accomplishments of Ancient Egyptians and their advanced understanding of science and architecture. When we’re dismissed in the popular world of music and entertainment, I hear loud Congolese beating on their drums, reminding me about how in the midst of huts and jungles, rhythm and cadence fused with chanting to create what we’ve come to recognise as music, I think about Kenyan wives performing dance rituals and devising early forms of theatre as they await Masai warriors to return to them. Even in a contemporary world where business engineers our global climate we forget about how countries like Sierra Leone and Ghana have such a significant stake in the supplementing its natural resources, resources we in the western world regard with such value and importance. We forget about Nigeria’s affect on the global economy and how the world’s economy could falter effortlessly if Nigeria decided to stop producing Oil for just one day.

It astounds me when I hear or see artists, politicians and many other individuals confronted with the feat of stimulating my senses through media refer to Africa with such sweeping and misinformed statements. In most cases I am able to adopt a Jay Z mentality and brush such comments off my shoulder, dismissing these claims as a classic case of ‘they don’t mean what they say syndrome’. However a couple of weeks ago I came across a miraculous finding, one which cemented my already unwavering belief that the western civilization, the one associated with popular culture, deteriorating self and moral value is a victim of blinding ignorance. This finding came in the form of a song, a Christmas song in fact, one which was written to promote the awareness of the faltering state of Africa. It was a song by Band aid’s so called ‘Supergroup’, which in my views comprised of various musicians in need of publicity. Band aid is an idea envisaged by ex-rocker Bob Geldof to use his influence in pop music to raise money for those affected by famine all around the world, in particular Africa, this song was called ‘Feed the World – do they know its Christmas time.’ The content of this song shocked me into disbelief as I tried to come to terms with the lyrics. Verses by the likes of ever so prolific Sugababes, Jamelia and Fran Healy had lyrics describing Africa with phrases such as ‘it’s a world of dread and fear’, ‘Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom’, ‘there will be no snow in Africa this Christmastime’. Now usually these phrases are the kind that I would have dismissed by brushing off my shoulders, however the musical hook by Bono was what pushed me over the edge, his hook which proceeded the chorus read; ‘well thank God it’s them instead of you’, when referring to the millions of those in Africa and around the world that suffered from famine.

This song, I found to be extremely offensive and an exemplary reason why we live in a society dumbfounded by stark insensitivity to those who live in Africa, not only is this song ludicrous in it’s approach it also sadly reflects an ideology belonging to the dominant percentage of individuals of the western culture. After reflecting on my rather sudden outburst, I now sit here and ask myself how could I take offence from such a philanthropic effort to raise consciousness amongst young people in the UK. I ask myself why don’t I just accept their good will and once again turn the proverbial cheek conceding to the fact that maybe there is no recovery from the infamous ‘they don’t mean what they say syndrome’….but then I reassure myself that as long as Africa is still home to a nation of individual countries – countries with diversity and a way of life beyond westerners fathom then I will continue be an advocate for my country and continent, saying it loud and clear for all to hear; Africa is a Continent-not a Country.

For Colored Girls (A review)

For colored girls...it seems as though black men are at the helm of all their pain and suffering, well at least that's what we're being made to believe by Tyler Perry's adaption of Ntozake's Shange's choreopoem. Aahh yes! Tyler Perry, the voice of black America and the man who seems to be the saviour of many criminally underrated talented black actresses - yes even Janet Jackson...some times.

Now I promised myself prior to watching that I wouldn't be too critical in my analysis of Lionsgate's latest production, all my preconceived notions that Perry will merely highlight the sentimentality in Shange's text rather than reinforce her feminist radicalism was put to one side as I watched the film open with 'Perry's angels', all living in Harlem, starting their day, each reciting in voice-over a line or two from "Dark Phrases," the poem that begins Shange's play. It's the only instance of her words flowing naturally and organically, the rest of the time I found myself playing 'guess who's line this is' as it became embarrassingly clear when Tyler Perry chose to lift entire passages from the original play with no transition from his own rather unpoetical and sometimes outright unintellectual dialogue.

Many have expressed doubts over Tyler Perry's ability to take responsibility of such a monumental story, one full of vivid color and artistry, I can remember early controversy during the first stages of production with many people citing some issues with Tyler Perry's approach to conveying key issues for the black community, especially since he was now at the helm of such an important book in African American literature, , touted at the time as "a celebration of being black and being woman," Shange's work was originally a collection of 20 prose-poems punctuated by dance and music and performed by a cast of seven women on a spare stage, each identified only by the color of her dress. Recounting rites of passage (losing one's virginity), horrors (rape, domestic violence), and pleasures (intellectual and carnal), what we saw was rather an amiable attempt - yes attempt, by Tyler Perry to bring Shange's work to screen and no one can give a better verdict of this than Shange herself who when asked during post production of this film said "I think he did a very fine job, although I'm not sure I would call it a finished film"

What this film does do however is leave you asking question during and after you have watched it, not very stimulating questions I must confess but questions worth asking nonetheless, questions like why does every single one of the characters somehow end up at the hospital and often at the same time and surely Kimberly Elise's character who is a P.A for a high powered blue collared professional should be earning enough to at least live somewhere more desirable and could afford a babysitter who isn't the old lady from next door... what perplexes me the most is how on earth Hill Harper's CSI character managed to find himself roped into a tale of adolescent unprotected sex as Kerry Washington tries to explain how she contracted STI's through the original's 'Pyramid' poem.

No one was expecting this film to truly capture the imaginative and poetic form of Shange's text, that is without saying one of the limiting things about making films, maybe Oprah Winfrey was right when she expressed doubts over whether or not to make 'For colored girls' into a film at all, but there are some heart warming moments where Tyler Perry does tear himself away from his formulaic melodrama so typical of his work and manages to hit so sweetly the poetic consciousness in Shange's work and for that reason alone you have to commend his efforts and therefore deem 'For colored girls' worthy for all to see.

For Colored Girls (A review)

For colored girls...it seems as though black men are at the helm of all their pain and suffering, well at least that's what we're being made to believe by Tyler Perry's adaption of Ntozake's Shange's choreopoem. Aahh yes! Tyler Perry, the voice of black America and the man who seems to be the saviour of many criminally underrated talented black actresses - yes even Janet Jackson...some times.

Now I promised myself prior to watching that I wouldn't be too critical in my analysis of Lionsgate's latest production, all my preconceived notions that Perry will merely highlight the sentimentality in Shange's text rather than reinforce her feminist radicalism was put to one side as I watched the film open with 'Perry's angels', all living in Harlem, starting their day, each reciting in voice-over a line or two from "Dark Phrases," the poem that begins Shange's play. It's the only instance of her words flowing naturally and organically, the rest of the time I found myself playing 'guess who's line this is' as it became embarrassingly clear when Tyler Perry chose to lift entire passages from the original play with no transition from his own rather unpoetical and sometimes outright unintellectual dialogue.

Many have expressed doubts over Tyler Perry's ability to take responsibility of such a monumental story, one full of vivid color and artistry, I can remember early controversy during the first stages of production with many people citing some issues with Tyler Perry's approach to conveying key issues for the black community, especially since he was now at the helm of such an important book in African American literature, , touted at the time as "a celebration of being black and being woman," Shange's work was originally a collection of 20 prose-poems punctuated by dance and music and performed by a cast of seven women on a spare stage, each identified only by the color of her dress. Recounting rites of passage (losing one's virginity), horrors (rape, domestic violence), and pleasures (intellectual and carnal), what we saw was rather an amiable attempt - yes attempt, by Tyler Perry to bring Shange's work to screen and no one can give a better verdict of this than Shange herself who when asked during post production of this film said "I think he did a very fine job, although I'm not sure I would call it a finished film"

What this film does do however is leave you asking question during and after you have watched it, not very stimulating questions I must confess but questions worth asking nonetheless, questions like why does every single one of the characters somehow end up at the hospital and often at the same time and surely Kimberly Elise's character who is a P.A for a high powered blue collared professional should be earning enough to at least live somewhere more desirable and could afford a babysitter who isn't the old lady from next door... what perplexes me the most is how on earth Hill Harper's CSI character managed to find himself roped into a tale of adolescent unprotected sex as Kerry Washington tries to explain how she contracted STI's through the original's 'Pyramid' poem.

No one was expecting this film to truly capture the imaginative and poetic form of Shange's text, that is without saying one of the limiting things about making films, maybe Oprah Winfrey was right when she expressed doubts over whether or not to make 'For colored girls' into a film at all, but there are some heart warming moments where Tyler Perry does tear himself away from his formulaic melodrama so typical of his work and manages to hit so sweetly the poetic consciousness in Shange's work and for that reason alone you have to commend his efforts and therefore deem 'For colored girls' worthy for all to see.

Nigger Please...

Oxford Dictionary Definition: Offensive. A black person
Chris Rock Definition: The Nitro-glycerine of words
Urban Dictionary: An endearing term between two or more individual to describe a friendship or bond.

Regardless of what definition of the word Nigger you find, it is important to note that definitions change depending on the vessel used to implement the word. It is true that according to a lot of people, the most popular introduction of the word was used as a derogative term to address black Africans who were enslaved during the 16th Century.

It is also true due to many accounts that there was an understanding (whether this understanding is morally right or wrong) that Blacks were innately inferior to Whites. Through the course of the slave trade, especially during early 16th Century we see how this understanding was deeply embedded into a society that ironically introduced the Constitution.

However what we do not see is that the word Nigger was introduced to reflect the present racial hatred of that society, there has never been a conclusive evidence to state the word Nigger would ever become equivalent to the consensus view that Blacks were sub-human.

This leads me on to conclude that the word Nigger by itself, is insignificant, imagine if Nigger was replaced with the words Black, Negro or African, would there have also been a rise in civil disobedience to proclaim our defiance to these terms also? The word Nigger originated from the Portuguese language as a term used in neutral context to refer to black people, there are common variations of the word all around the world such as Negra, Niger and Negro. To this very day variations are incorporated into different languages all around the world, yet we attack Rappers, Academics, Comedians and any other individual who feel they enough understanding and personal validity to use the term.

I have identified various groups of people who make it their life fulfilling endeavours to eradicate the word from the English language, the first group are the politically conscious individuals who feel in order to proclaim their ‘active’ defiance to their inherited racist culture or mindset, they must live out their lives in the crusade to educate themselves and the rest of the world on why they feel the “N word” is socially unacceptable.

Another group of people I have chosen to identify are certain members of the Black community, this group of people by some miraculous intervention manage to relive 300 years of slavery every single time the word Nigger is said. Most people who do belong to this group have never ever personally witnessed any racist act, despite this they react to racial issues as though they were actually enslaved themselves and subjected to the pain and anguish our ancestors had to live through.

Sometimes its so sad I cant help but laugh, it’s sad because I think we fight the word more than we fight the meaning. We react so badly when the word is uttered that we ignore the context in which it was used. As a literary enthusiast, I am constantly amazed by the English language, It as been proven over the course of history that with time and understanding words can change meaning, and put into the hands of different people the form and context can also change.

Chris Rock used the philosophy of ‘soul food’ to explain this, he said;

“They gave us the scraps and we made it into cuisine, we took this word and made it into poetry. Nigger is the Nitro-glycerine of words and in the wrong hands it can hurt, but if you give it to the right person like Dave Chapelle, Ice Cube, Eddie Murphy, what NWA and Richard Prior did with the word Nigger is Art.”

George Carlin, A white American comedian who was also an iconic New Yorker publicly said the word Nigger during his show, he said;

“There is nothing actually wrong with the word Nigger, it’s the racist people who use it we ought to be concerned about, we don’t care when Eddie Murphy or Richard Prior say it why?...because they’re Niggers!”

I become increasingly frustrated when people, especially those belonging to the group I identified begin to lecture others on how the word Nigger is bad, and how we should not say the word, it infuriates me because a word in itself cannot be bad, just like words such as Black or Negro, by itself these words do not offend or threaten, by itself they do not evoke great pain or inner turmoil, it is when they are put into the wrong context and used inappropriately that it begins to create havoc.

So to conclude, I want to make it clear that because the word Nigger brings forth different meaning to different people, when or if you do decide to use the word, ensure you are confident enough in the context in which you have used it. If you want to call your dear friend your Nigger then by no means go ahead providing that dear friend understands what you mean, and if you are racist individual and your ignorance succumbs you then please be my guest call a black person a Nigger, just be sure to handle the repercussions if a big Nigger knocks on your door.

There are no rules or instructions when using the word, we might as well accept the fact that sometimes it will create offence, sometimes it wont, don’t allow people to tell you when you can and cannot say the word, in fact next time you say the word Nigger and someone gasps and walks over to you and tells you can’t say the “N word”, just smile and remember these two words; “Nigger…Please!”

Just a thought

I’m afraid to close my eyes because ill be lost in visions
So I keep them open and imagine myself falling asleep
You see I suffer from a nocturnal plague
Where the mind falls victim to ones dreams
And my dreams spread further than the seven seas
Did I say seven seas?
Dreams stretch further than the molecular universe
The time space continuum couldn’t fit into my mindscape
So I’m searching, feeling claustrophobic on earth trying to figure what on universe I’m I doing here
I fear, one day I will close my eyes and simply refuse to open them
They will say I suffered from a rare case of blindness
Blind diagnosing the blind is all I see though
How strange, if seeing is being able to perceive by sight
Then most are blind and don’t even know it
Because to perceive is to recognize to recognize is to understand
But how many people truly understand what they see
We accept things at face value and let supposed scientist tell us things like
The earth is round when clearly I’m standing on a flat surface in London
And I’m sure my Aussie friend is not standing on a perpendicular angle
Showing me CGI shots of planet earth like you really have cameras with battery life that long
Or trying to tell me in the 80’s America could spy on the Cubans from space
But 9/11 you couldn’t use those cameras to show us what really happened in New York that morning
Now we’re mourning, blind crying asking God why we feel pain and if he really existed then why haven’t we found Bin Laden yet
Or Tupac and Elvis and Madeline McCaine
Lack of answers seems to increase my pain
That's why I rein in my thoughts and write tthis poem

She cries herself to sleep

I know this woman,

like my grandmother she cares and she shares benevolently

she nears the time where her heels wear wearily on the soles of an incessant feet

she bares the heat

she struggles relentlessly so her children never see her tears

she fears

she loses the battle when one child can trace the tracks of her face

so

she's the kind of woman that sobs silently at night

she confesses only to the confinement of dusk

she trusts their sacred dialouge

she cries and the night listens

the moon glistens as you see the salty tears treacle gently down to her withering lips

she has flashbacks of when she had hips

they would sway in cadence to the sound of eligible men

back when

her land was furtile and it could bore wild herbs and fruits with deep roots

rich fruits that her old husband would supper on

wild juices so supple he drank on

flashbacks of nights when that same moonlight would glare into the act of love making

the moon keeps guard;

watches two lovers unite and depart in constant rhythmic motions

her lair was the ocean and each night they would swim in it

but now she comes back every night to where she is now

wishing her ocean wasnt this saharan abyss

she longs for a kiss from old husband

hates that she misses old husband

or the fact that even for one night, old husband could never hold her tight again

so she makes do with the companion of the night

and that faithful moonlightas she cries herself to sleep...

again.

The Cloud and the sand dune

A young cloud was born in the midst of a great storm over the Mediterranean Sea, but he did not even have time to grow up there, for a strong wind pushed all the clouds over towards Africa.

As soon as the clouds reached the continent, the climate changed. A bright sun was shining in the sky and, stretched out between them, lay the golden sands of the Sahara. Since it almost never rains in the desert, the wind continued pushing the clouds towards the forests in the south.

Meanwhile, as it happens with young humans too, the young cloud decided to leave his parents and his older friends in order to discover the world.

"What are you doing?," cried the wind. "The desert's the same all over. Rejoin the other clouds, and we'll go to Central Africa where there are amazing mountains and trees!"

But the young cloud, a natural rebel, refused to obey, and, gradually, he dropped down until he found a gentle, generous breeze that allowed him to hover over the golden sands. After much toing and froing, he noticed that one of the dunes was smiling at him.

He saw that the dune was also young, newly formed by the wind that had just passed over. Hefell in love with her golden hair right there and then.

"Good morning," he said. "What's life like down there?"

"I have the company of the other dunes, of the sun and the wind, and of the caravans that occasionally pass through here. Sometimes it's really hot, but it's still bearable. What's life like up there?"

"We have the sun and wind too, but the good thing is that I can travel across the sky and see more things."

"For me," said the dune, "life is short. When the wind returns from the forests, I will disappear."

"And does that make you sad?"

"It makes me feel that I have no purpose in life."

"I feel the same. As soon as another wind comes along, I'll go south and be transformed into rain; but that is my destiny."

The dune hesitated for a moment, then said:

"Did you know that here in the desert, we call the rain paradise?"

"I had no idea I could ever be that important," said the cloud proudly.

"I've heard that older dunes tell stories about the rain. They say that, after the rain, we are all covered with grass and flowers. But I'll never experience that, because in the desert it rains so rarely."

It was the cloud's turn to hesitate now. Then he smiled broadly and said:

"If you like, I could rain on you now. I know I've only just got here, but I love you, and I'd like to stay here for ever."

"When I first saw you up in the sky, I fell in love with you too," said the dune. "But if you transform your lovely white hair into rain, you will die."

"Love never dies," said the dune. "It is transformed, and, besides, I want to show you what paradise is like."

And he began to caress the dune with little drops of rain, so that they could stay together for longer, until a rainbow appeared.

The following day, the little dune was covered in flowers. Other clouds that passed over, heading for Africa, thought that it must be part of the forest they were looking for and scattered more rain. Twenty years later, the dune had been transformed into an oasis that refreshed travellers with the shade of its trees.

And, all because, one day, a cloud fell in love, and was not afraid to give his life for that love.

A beautiful way of expressing that true love is selfless and it transforms....