| The outrage or "blackout" of the Katrina aftermath has left hundreds of thousands of displaced residents from the Gulf Coast, and according to The Black Commentator (August 31, 2006, Issue 194), most are Black. The working poor, renters, moms with kids, African Americans, the elderly and disabled -- all are suffering disproportionately from displacement. Senator George Allen (R-Virginia) called an American of Indian descent a "macaca" (monkey)! Of course, he did not know what he was saying to an audience of White Americans. In Coushatta, Louisiana, a bus driver ordered nine Black children to the back of a bus where the children were told to occupy only two seats. Nine children sat on each others laps, on two seats, in the back of a bus! This year 2006! The Black Commentator (August 31, 2006, Issue 194) reports that African Americans make up 50 percent of all new cases of HIV. The lack of health care, let alone HIV/AIDS affecting Blacks, is not a concern of White leadership. Twenty years of civil wars in Sudan account for two million deaths. A hundred Iraqis can expect to die each day. And 18 more U.S. soldiers died this past week. It is not just a question of whether or not George Bush cares. Do we care? Miriam Ezenwa, new friend and nursing doctorate student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, invited me to the Annual Iriji Festival, sponsored by the Ndi Igbo Association in Wisconsin. The event took place in Milwaukee's Saint Catherine Church on August 19. Sixtus Agywa, President of Ndi Igbo Association, said the festival, a commemoration of the Igbo New Year, offers the Igbo community in Wisconsin a chance to come together to "celebrate the contribution of the yam, a celebration that takes place in the month of August in Nigeria." In a large room, surrounded by people in "traditional" colorful Igbo attire with elaborate headwear, I felt alone. The smell of food -- yams, plantain, chicken, rice, and greens -- filled the air while I watched adults offer greetings -- handshakes, hugs, and warm lingering smiles. Children ran around playing with each other, and some men sat rocking infants. Some African Americans try to find themselves in the Africans we meet here in the U.S. It is a habit with longtime exiles like us. It asks too much for any one person or group to accept such a burden of representing our lost past. But we do it; we cannot help it. While many Black Americans have Igbo ancestors, the celebrants were not enslaved in the U.S. Many of us have felt the stigma of being an "enslaved" people whenever we encounter "relatives" from Africa. While I walked around the room, I worried that White leadership's image of Black Americans had preceded me. Portrayed in the media and in popular culture as violence itself, Black Americans are the "looter" while Whites endure us to survive and thrive. The presence of the "oji," the kolanut called the room to attention. "This begins the festival of Igbo people in Wisconsin," said the elder. "If you have a guest and you don't present a kolanut, it is not a welcomed guest," he said. The dish with cut pieces of the "oji" was passed around the room, and it came to me -- a guest. Miriam reached over and invited me to take a piece and eat.I did. I put aside the divisive images. 'I am a welcomed guest,' I said to myself, and I will follow the celebration among relatives. Aguwa, the president, called out for the men to stand and welcome the Iriji, the yam. He called upon the ancestors to come and witness the blessing and proper respect for custom. In gratitude for their presence, they were offered wine. With "Iwa Ji," the blessing of the yam, the president called out "father" and the elder returned, stood behind the table where the one symbolic yam was ready to be cut and passed among us. The cutting of the yam is the most important act of the festival, the elder teaches. Miriam whispered that the elder had to be careful. And, as I turned my attention to the elder again, I cared that he would be careful. After the welcome and the "Iwa Ji," all the little girls present participated in a children's fashion show. All were told they were beautiful and were called "little princesses." Inclusiveness! I smiled. No winners or losers. During the "Umunwanyi Igbo," the women's dance, I listened to Miriam's instructive comments. Late in the celebration, we stretched our necks to watch the men dramatized the spirit of the ancestors in the "Ejioni." The Igbo Iriji Festival/Wisconsin closed with a prayer. "To wish that all divisive practices could go away so easily, and we would begin to care." |
| Voices/ Dr. Jean Daniels A call for the Igbo prayer |
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