September Carnival: The Mis-Education of the Negro in the 21st Century

August 7, 2007 at 21:7 p

Posted by Asabagna

In an effort to have more focused discussions over at Afrospear, we are starting a monthly carnival with rotating topics. As I understand it, the way a carnival works is that those who wish to participate, post an essay on the topic on your blog page and forward the link to us at Afrospear@hotmail.com. We will post all the links and then have a discussion on the essays which have been submitted.

I am re-reading “The Mis-Education of the Negro” by Carter Woodson. The first edition was printed in 1933. I am stunned by how many of the issues he discussed then, appear to be relevant today…. in 2007.

It has inspired me to submit for the first topic of our monthly carnival, the issue of education with the Black/African community. Some questions to consider: Are we currently suffering from mis-education? What is your opinion and/or perspective on how our young are being educated? Are they being mis-educated and if so, what are the dynamics and results of this process of mis-education that you see? Does education have the power to change our lives and if so, do we, as a people, truly value and take advantage of that opportunity? What solutions and/or strategies do you propose to the education dilemma which is facing our community(ies)? It would be beneficial and enlightening to hear from different regions of the Diaspora and from the Motherland itself.

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Let Me Be Diverse
For the monthly carnival
by EJDoshi

I am going to jump on the diversity wagon because I think it is the ONLY way we can overcome the issues we all face in this country. And when I speak of diversity I am speaking of economic, ethnic, cultural, and gender diversity. How can we overcome the alienation and ignorance that allows us to continue to feed the illusion that we are all different unless we can come together to solve problems? I am in favor of opening our ears to the sounds of grief AND joy, chaos and true silence. But I say this with a caution. It is the hardest thing we will ever do. The reason for this is that we will make mistakes and be misunderstood and find conflict just as soon as we learn something profound. Until we look at the pain we cannot heal. Please lets not have African American Education for African Americans and by African Americans. This limits the healing and does not allow others to learn. Just as America as a country needs to learn how to be a leader and rise above its privilege and nationhood, African American Educators need to lead by rising above the pain of being marginalized and tap the absolute power of the soul of love of humanity and gratitude for the earth and bring to light strategies that reveal the potential of humanity.

The Children of today need to love their teachers and this happens when their teachers understand them. The teachers need to develop curriculum that is appropriate for the age of the child, NOT what is hip and cool in the media. Children need powerful archetypal stories that speak of the evolution of the human being not as represented by one ethnicity but by ethnicities throughout the unfolding of humanity. Children need to play and pretend and create when they are young. Teachers need to be artists, craftspeople and storytellers- HEALERS. For these children are being poisoned by the media and by the violence that materialism incites. Young children need to be surrounded by beauty and truth. They need to develop the skills that their hearts inform their hands so that when the age of reason unfolds in them they receive their lessons with a strong sense of compassion.

Young adults/adolescents need their teachers to be someone in the world and to be, above all, people of integrity. If their teachers are going home at night to watch television and do not have a rich life of their own outside the school it is a lost cause. The young people of today can see us very clearly and what we are up to no matter how hard we try to hide it. Let us speak to them of revolutions and of remarkable people. Let us give them opportunities to discover the wonders of science and mathematics first hand, (not by rote). Let them learn the speeches of very great and wicked people so that they can take measure of the world. Let us do all this so that the adolescents can be inspired to make something of themselves and be proud to do good work for the benefit of all humanity.

Part of the joy of living in this place, (remember I am counting my blessings) is the abundance of old cars. Why do I love them so?

Old cars (30+ years old) represent to me a time when cars were made to last and were easy to fix by any mechanically-minded person. Their colors were flat and classic like japanese origame. The era they speak of is one devoid of cynicism and filled with harmony. Pop groups sang about how we can "get together" and not how well we can blow someone off, except for that Paul Simon song, or blow someone away.

In the early 90s there was a car made by GM called the EV1 that actually could have made me love cars again but they killed that car because it wouldn't make them, (or their businessmen cronies) any $. If you want to see a cool trailer for the movie just click on Who killed the Electric Car?

DEDICATED TO MUM, MARCY AND JONATHAN:

How does one get through the summer blues and homesickness?

Get off your posterior and get on your two wheeler! At least that is what I did today. Instead of driving to the doctor's office I biked, almost solely on streets with bicycle priority. The Ohlone Greenway is urban AND rural ,as well as flat as a pancake.

Along the way I watched east bay life drift by. I saw what appeared to me to be homeless men sleeping on benches next to their grocery carts filled with recycling under the BART tracks which droned by every ten minutes.

I saw, (and smelled) beautiful flora.

Check out this mountain of Morning Glories, (my favorite flower)!

I rode through El Cerrito, Albany and Berkeley and crossing the occasional street I saw a myriad of old VWs, cars that remind me of when we were young. Mum and Larry had identical VW Fastbacks. I liked the handles in the front seat and the rumble of the engine.

There are some inviting benches and seats along the greenway and a huge mural depicting native life designed by artists.

Another way to forget about how profoundly lonely I feel is to cook. All this fresh produce has made a real food snob of me. And it helps to feel as though there is something to living out west. For lunch I chopped farmer's market summer squash, broccoli, onions, and carrots and sauteed them with black beans in a cilantro, tamari, nectarine, salsa sauce. I served it on a fresh corn taco with farm stand tomatoes,baby greens, sheep feta and uncooked corn kernals. I love the corn out here. It is best uncooked!

What would I be doing right now if I wasn't living out west? Well, I probably wouldn't be asking "What if?" which is never a good activity. But because I need to get it out- I would be out east with my family.

One sister is travelling to our east coast home with her children from the midwest and one MOM is also there now from the deep south taking a breather from the thick southern weather.

There are cook outs planned and daytrips to quaint coastal towns to buy "stuff". Certainly there will be arguing and differences of opinion. That is the way with big mouthed people from large families. Gosh I miss it.

C'MON BEBE!

This little bun, (I made yesterday) is coming with us to Ethiopia to meet the new one, whenever that may be, and pick up the scents of Ethiopia. We are looking forward to finishing up this homestudy update and being shipped off to the AFRICAN continent to bring home our future love.

I just had another TB test and doctor's approval. Mr. D will go next week but cannot have a TB test, (he always comes up positive) but will have to have a chest x-ray.

My friend from high school just received her referral for her little baby from China, Vivian. She will travel in 2 months.

TWO WHEELS RULE THE ROAD

Berkeley town has redesigned several of their streets to be "bicycle priority" streets. To see a short film showing this wonderful benefit to us bikers,

Click on Bicycle Boulevard.

Today we rode our bikes along the Ohlone Greenway, (bikes and peds only) underneath the BART to Berkeley and along the bicycle boulevards Virginia and Milvia. We went to Missing Link Bicycle on Shattuck ave. to have our bike tires switched because when the movers reassembled our bikes they mistakenly switched our tires.We went to a movie and ate dinner at remarkable vegan restaurant on Shattuck called Cafe Gratitude. This is what the Chicago Diner wants to be. I had the Sushi Bowl which is rice and an assortment fresh organic veggies, nori and Kim Chee. I barely let Mr. D have a bite.

ON GURU PURNIMA DAY

Someone gave Sri Sri a pink fuzzy hat and shades and he did the usual, pose like a young school girl with a flamboyant fay hand to the face. Unfortunately, I have a hard time "capturing" a photo of guruji in focus.

MY CURRENT PRACTICE is derived from the tools I have learned from Art of Living courses
I have attended over the last two years. Here they are:

Padma Sadna is a succession of yoga poses designed to allign area around spine and clear chakras.

Nari Shodana is alternate nostril breathing. I lost count of the times Sri Sri used the word nostril. (When I was young this word made me giggle. I think I have always been squeamish of other people's nostrils.)

Pranayama (breathing) in vedrasen position.

Bastrikas (more physically active breathing excersises )


Sudarshin Creeya is the landmark of the art of living part one course and the foundation of art of living meditation practice.


This past week was Guru Purnima. Celebration of the Master (Knowledge). Mr. D and I traveled to Pomona to celebrate with the Guru Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, who is the founder of Art of Living. It was held at California Polytechnical College. Pomona is east of L.A. and quite warm this time of year.



There were over 2000 people registered for courses during the week and over 3000 came for the Guru Purnima Puja and Satsang (ceremony and singing). The gym was just big enough for all of us.
During this week we attended our second Advanced Course and reviewed some mudras (hand positions) and a breathing lock (technique in holding the prana, breath, in the body for an extended period of time).



We also remained silent for three of the five days during the course. This was an amazing experience that allowed me to see how unimportant most of what I say is. And how high my tolerance level is. I have been selling myself and others short. When you can't complain whining becomes unnecessary.



Sri Sri (shown here with his incredibly contageous smile) was interviewed during the week by CNN:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-Sstlp1u7Y



When we arrived at LAX airport for our return trip home we were in for a shock. Why was everyone so stressed out and unfriendly? Some of the airport staff were downright hostile.

We thought to ourselves, "The world really needs Art of Living everywhere."

Sounds like I am brainwashed doesn't it? But the organization isn't really about the brain at all. One of the teachers, Rakshri, said, "Art of Living is the sanitation department. It cleans you out." Sri Sri said, "Become a no mind and you can communicate with all minds."
I agree.

THE DESPERATE LIFE OF MRS. DOSHI

"Honey, do you see the face?"

"Uh, no."

"You don't see it? The triangle nose?"

"Uhmmm. Oh yeah, if I turn it upside down I see it. That little gap in the pancake is the mouth right?"

Ants, ants, ants in my pants

Ants in my pants and they're makin' me dance.

Look!

Ants, ants, ants on the wall.

Ants on the wall form a line down the hall.

Ants, ants, ants up my sleave.

Ants in my wares.! Yes, its hard to believe.

Last week I took my bike on the train into San Francisco and rode around the city. It was a gorgeous and blustery day as are all the summer days out here it seems. Dry, breezy and hot. I climbed up the hills (on the easiest gear) toward the Golden Gate Park, an amazing and superior park to most. GGP has a flower conservertory, a botanical garden, a museum, a viewing tower, a tea garden, golf, tennis, beach, windmill and a panhandle (scenic park-like bike and ped. route)heading back into the city's downtown. The park spans half the width of the city and ends at the Pacific Ocean. And although I was disoriented and disorientated, (yes, these two words have different meanings), when I disembarked from the BART Civic Center station, every San Franciscan I spoke to for directions to the park knew which way I needed to go. No, "Ya cawn't get thaya from heeya."

Married, friendless, childless, and dogless. Is there a lonelier life?

Here is to all the dogs I love and have loved:

Oh Rooty! You little!

And to think you were almost mine.

But Lil Rocker got smart and kept your sweet behind.

If you have ever moved away from a place you have called home for more than say 10 years, when you dream in your new home you dream of things long passed. It happened to me when I moved away from Chicago and it is happening now. And a question, “Will I always be leaving friends behind?”
After the passing of Amy, with whom I lost touch but admired deeply, I begin to think of all the people who were good friends to me who I don't know anymore. I decide to make a list of I miss yous. Here it is.

I MISS YOU:
Gene D.
Deb
Joan
and Mylen from the Diner

I MISS YOU:
Eric M.
Deanne
Chris
John S.
Tanara
Kate EL'I from Avanti and Northside days

I MISS YOU
Paul
Michael
Jessica and Breckon
Gina Irene
Juan and Judy
Dede and Maya
Dandara and BJ from Logan Square days

I MISS YOU:
Russel
Arthur
Katie and yes Terry
Michael C.
David K.
Chris W.
Bliss from Sheffield and Leona days

I MISS YOU:
John H.
Jason
Georgia
Spencer
Eileen
Heather M.
Brigit M.
Walt S.
Delia M.
Peter S.
Joe H.
Andy L.
I ALSO MISS YOU CHICAGO
AND DON'T WANT TO FORGET.

Cheat You Fair
by Sam, a sock vendor
On Maxwell Street

They cheat you fair.
It's a game.
You had a chance.
Elsewhere,
they cheat you unfair.
No chance:
Pograms,
Cossacks,
The Czar,
Jim Crow,
KKK,
Sharecropping,
The company store.
On Maxwell Street
You understood:
A pitch,
A shpiel,
A rap,
A line.
It was joyous.
Blues humming.
Face-to-face.
You knew
People cared.
It was bazaar.
Don't let it die.

I worked with Amy 20 years ago at a popular italian restaurant in Chicago. She was also a friend during those years before she married and I left the city.

She had a wonderful economy with words and in her life. She made everything she designed feminine but very practical and comfortable.

The last time I saw Amy was when her daughter was about 3 at Navy Pier. Both of them were wearing dresses Amy had designed and looked gorgeous. That was about 11 years ago.

A good musician friend of mine told me about Amy this morning and he himself only found out because he was looking for information about her clothing designs. Amy's husband Jack introduced this friend and I at a Halloween party we had in Roscoe village. I remember her husband calling me to tell me he had fallen in love with a friend of mine and when he told me it was Amy I was surprised and pleased at once.

Amy Rigg was a peach. xoxoxoxox on your journey

Please don't be offended good quilters but I am afraid I have in my possession the most beautiful quilt ever made. It would be a mistake for you to think you would one day make such a quilt but I am here to say it has already been done by Alewife McKey.

That baby has already developed a trait to share with Mr. D and that is tardiness. This superb quilt and I have been waiting for to embrace the young Doshi!

THAT GLEAM

She dreamed to one day be a mother and part of a family.
Like many people she dreamed only not realizing.
Dreaming of taking baby in the stroller
to a place where other babies were playing, some happy, some sad
and some angry.
If an angry baby hit her baby, she would not chide the other baby but console only.

She dreamed like other people dream of becoming a doctor or musician.
She dreamed like others who want to travel.
Somewhere in their hearts they must go.
She dreamed to be alive like one sick who longs to be well again.

To be alive.
Is a fair request.
To eat and taste.
To kiss and feel.
To laugh and not worry.
She dreamed of the gleam of recognition from a waking baby.
Pure joy.
“Mama!”

You know why cartoons are so effective? Because they are NOT high tech. This cartoon is NOT high tech. It probably isn't even a cartoon. It is a diagram that shows a basic communication flaw in the human "me" species. I felt qualified to draw this diagram because I carry traits of the human "me"species and wanted to share.

There is a much funnier non-tech diagram in a website for a book promotion I also wanted to share. It is for Miranda July's book NO ONE BELONGS HERE MORE THAN YOU, which I have not read. But I did see her movie, You Me and Everyone We Know and if the book is as clever as the website it is sure to be a winner.

http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/

Last week end was a percussive one. On Friday we spontaneously drove to Ashkenaz http://ashkenaz.com/index.htm to hear a Beat Box performance called The Vowel Movement. The venue is real down home and made me feel like I was back in Chicago at a performance space on Grand avenue. The cover charge was reasonable and the performance was very full, that is they offered a lot of bang for buck. We left before the show ended as we are middle aged and have sensitive ears we would like to keep for a while.

On Sunday we drove to Oakland to the world renown Yoshi's http://www.yoshis.com/jazzclub to see Poncho Sanchez, the latin percussionist. I loved the show. Really. It was too short was all. I wanted to dig the band and goove all night with that Cuban sound!

However, Yoshi's has a strange way of making its devotees work for their seats. Mr. D's colleague, a Yoshi fan, came to our house with his family at 4pm and promptly left with Mr. D to "reserve seats". Tickets had already been purchased days before. The doors at the club open at 5 so they waited in line for an hour to rush into the club and reserve seven seats at one of the front tables. They returned to our house to eat and then we all made for the club. Some people actually eat at Yoshi's restaurant which from what I am told has improved but is a little pricey. If you don't get in line early to save your seats you may not find enough seats together for your party and you definitely won't be up front or in one of the treasured booths. The club is intimate though and we couldn't have had a better time. Well, I couldn't have, but I didn't wait in line for an hour.

"PONCHO SANCHEZ celebrates his 20th year as a bandleader with his 20th release, Soul Of The Conga (CCD-4894). The veteran conguero's 18th recording for the Concord Picante label features the very popular performer in several different settings and the result is a fast-moving but logical set of 14 highly enjoyable and rhythmically infectious numbers.

Poncho Sanchez has long qualified as one of the hardest-working men in Latin jazz. Born in Laredo, Texas as the youngest of 11 children, he grew up in Norwalk, California (where he still lives) and remembers hearing Afro-Cuban music while growing up. "As a kid in third or fourth grade, I would hear my sisters dancing while listening to Machito, Tito Puente, Cal Tjader and various bands from Cuba while my brothers listened to doo-wop music and early rhythm and blues." While in sixth grade, Sanchez bought a fifty- cent guitar in hopes of joining an r&b band that rehearsed across the street from his home. Although he practiced quite a bit, when he showed up for an audition, he knew immediately that he did not stand a chance. "But it turned out that they needed a singer and, although I had never sung, I gave it a try and became the lead vocalist in that band for five years. Then when I was in high school, the first chance I had to get behind a set of conga drums, I hit them and it felt quite natural." Soon Sanchez had saved up money from his singing jobs and was practicing congas as much as possible in his garage, playing to Machito, Tito Puente and Cal Tjader records.

Sanchez's big break occurred in 1975 when, after a period of struggle, he had an opportunity to play with his idol, vibraphonist Cal Tjader. "I found out later that Cal's conga player was planning on leaving soon and he was letting a lot of people sit in with him. I played one number with Cal, he asked if I could play the rest of the set with him and a week later he asked if I could join him for a week, starting New Year's Eve at the Coconut Grove opposite Carmen McRae!" Sanchez would be a major part of Tjader's band for the next seven years, an association that lasted until the vibraphonist's death." http://www.drummerworld.com/drummers/Poncho_Sanchez.html

The El Cerrito Theater! An authentic old theater not some mock up from the golden days of prohibition!And it may become an historic, (I can't stand writing “an” instead of “a”, and still don't understand the rule! Silent h my hand!!) landmark in El Cerrito. Any way it is a nice theater that has lounge style seating like in India and you can order food or beverages to be delivered pendant le film. Check it out! And we don't know how they will stay in business as there were only 9 people sitting with us watching the most excellent THE NAMESAKE on a sunny Sunday afternoon. On Tuesdays they have what is called the “baby brigade”. You are invited to the theater with your under one year old child to watch a movie. If your child cries, join the party. I am not sure how much fun it is but maybe someday soon I will find out.