Before and after. A poetic act. Yes. Rice first came to America from Africa in the braids of my child Amina. Yes. See you always in nurturing dear. See you always, pedacito de mi alma. Love, siempre. Madre
Madre-nieta -muchas veces- finds herself/themselves & Amina, again and again. Meeting again at the First Blacks archive manuscripts, related resources and eye opening and heart confirming conversations for more routes. Meeting the tribe. Builders of the new colony. Recognizing Me/We in every transcript. Meeting first hand in primary documents. Again. Migratory patterns acknowledged. Recognized. Lived. Living. El Ni E’ is envisioned. El Ni E’ is crafted. El Ni e’, a genuine state of mind that witnesses existence, from the glorious sovereignty of the self as unit and its community, moving, living; not shying away from life harsh and unjust passages but grasping the Is regardless; resilience its middle name, holding the global mirror and gaze in its current waves. El Ni E’, the migratory dynamic found even in some souls migrating from day to day, apparently without passport, visa, ticket or any known desire to migrate. Madre knew. Madre nurtured. Madre is the is where always dances. Me/We. The First Blacks in the Americas. Blacks from the first blacks in the Americas. Both guided by blacks before the first blacks in the Americas. Attaya afternoons or any sweet tea substitute available at the same abode located at Calle Gregorio Luperón, San Cristobal, DR, 156th Street off Broadway, NYC and/or/by Rue Ndiaga Gaye, N’dar, Senegal. I am listening and co-creating mainly with the women at the First Blacks in the Americas archive. Let me here present you an exquisite segment of the route. A Maria Cota le dieron ‘lo papele’. 59
