Tuesday, September 18, 2012


Spending one weekend in Delaware, among my rounds I visited a Nanticoke Indian  heritage Museum. Humble in appearance, bordered by two large rooms divided by a deluxe sign in book, and lobby, filled with this Native American tribe’s relics, and elements of lineage.  On business with Family, I learned of business, land history and demographic, and the politics of the reservations thereof.  In my native American studies, I understand, fundamentally that all native Americans, as African Americans originate from the eastern hemisphere.  The east, where culture is the defining principle, the cream of society.  In one cubicle of the museum I stopped and saw a model scene, as to where, it was a fairly 19th  or 18th century depiction of an Indian village. Chief, elders, Brave’s engaged in rites of passage, squaw’s in development of womanhood, beauty and traditional practice.  I saw streams circle the village’s borders, and the village’s meat; host of cattle, spiritual ceremonies. The village’s bread, wheat, and husked corn. Standing there in admiration  I summed up, this scene, of this moment in time as a standard fundamental maintenance, of society, community, culture, a people.  Though this  societal standard I socially, politically, and culturally rally for, I am realistic. I acknowledge realities of history, economy, criminology and sociology.  I speak of our urban America. Our urban America is and was no utopia.  I ask for a call to struggling Families, Religious institutions, the grassroots, scholars, community advocates, urban studies departments,  schools and other resources to re iterate the cornucopia; the breadbasket.  A rally for our communities to refute the bread that exploits us, stereotypes us, degrades us, leaves us in lack, and profits off of us via industrial method.  This cornucopia, this bread, this harvest must come from within, to feed, nurture, and educate the community.  Fundamental enrichment is, cultivation.  A drill, past our current social ills to apprehend deeper roots.  I’m   willing to drill past our cemented communities, as phrased by Artist Sylvester Johnson, our “Concrete reservations” to find fortune; to cultivate a cornucopia to feed, us.  Systems, Industries, institutions, have only provided, to leave us, to perpetuate lack.   I state a clarion call for you, to re invest in your future, dig for the cornucopia for the next generation.  The cornucopia will feed. Urban America...eat to live.

Consciously yours,


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