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"The storytellers carry the culture, their words give it clarity." Baba Jamal Koram Guides travel. They observe. They tell. They lead.
Signifyin' and Testifyin' with theBlack Storytellers Alliance
Minnesota in September is Good! October, 2006 Actually anytime in Minnesota is good. My people are up there. I have my storytelling family and I have blood relatives and I have my God daughter and her family. It's all good. In fact, I ran into Sister Rose at the emporium or whatever they're calling it, and she was selling her baked pies and cornbread. It's all good. And she still looking good too! Brother Man was around the bend selling hats. His name escapes me for the moment, I believe is last name was Brown. These weren't just any kind of hat. They are a mud cloth, paisley print, neck tie print modernized looking kufi. Actually, they're a cross between a kufi and that skimmer the cat in the hat be wearing. So I bought one. Half price. I was really profilin' it and no one said anything. At least not out loud. Where is that hat? I haven't seen it since I got back. I have a grand God daughter who, like all babies, is so precious and precocious. It was wonderful spending the time with her and both her parents. My grandfather's brother's daughter's daughter and her husband and children spent some quality time with me, cruisin' around. Her great grandfather was an auto mechanic and word is that he used to repair Dillinger, the outlaw's car. What was that all about? Storytellers were in the house. Nothando and Vusi Zulu accommodated a bunch of us in good fashion. The board of directors and the supporters of the Black Storytellers Alliance really showed us Minnesota hospitality. I'm not going to mention everyone here, but click here to see everyone who was there - - a cornucopia of folks that you want at your next event. None of them need any introduction. It felt good being in dat number. We missed Queen Nur though. On Thursday evening, during our first performance in the auditorium at the Afro Centric Academy, we were introduced by Miss Black USA, Ms. Celi Dean, who is from Minneapolis; and Teju, Mitch, Toni, Temujin, Mama Koku and dem just showed off. Janice Curtis Greene, Diane, Danielle and Alphonse, Valerie, and Me too! It was well attended and they tell me those little chicken legs they had at the reception were also good. The next day the group was split up. Half went to one college and the other went to another college. Our group consisted of Diane Ferlatte, Valerie Tutson, Janice Curtis Greene and Baba Jamal Koram. Wow! You never heard so much teachin and tellin' signifyin' and testifyin', 'cept at the NABS festival. School children came and packed the house! For three shows. All up in the balcony, flowed onto the floor right around the tellers. It was a storytelling environment and everyone had a storytelling good time. These sessions were taped so you might get a chance to view the event at some point in time. The formal event was Saturday night. Folk were dressed up and dropped they mouths wide open for the good audience we had. Cousins showed up, God Daughter and her family showed up, and the film crew showed up for this set too. I wish I could remember all the stories that were told. You just had to be there. Oh, I believe I told Anansi in De Sudan or as titled on this WORLD WIDE site, Anansi Brings Help. Educate, Agitate, Strategize and Organize
Storying With the Brethren Sounds of the Mountain Festival, April, 2004 What has become a welcomed annual event over the past few years is now like a homecoming for the StoryMan. The Sounds of the Mountain festival is the brainchild of Alan Hoal, and is a collage of mountain music, folklore, stories of hope courage and love, sing a longs, play a longs, family gathering, and enjoy more than 200 acres of mountain air, mountain streams, mountain weather and mountain hospital. Located at Camp Bethel, near Fincastle, Virginia. I had a chance to reunion with a couple of folks and reacquaint with others. Connie Reagan Blake, Odds Bodkin, Joseph, and Mike and Carol Stern, and others were there. In the past David Holt, Sparky Rucker and other acquaintances performed. I can't think of them all right now. But dig, every night in every year, among the artists in our sleeping area, there has always been fantastic discussions from religion to alzheimer's. On Friday, more than 400 school children attended a storytelling and song concert. It was there that I met a brother who invited me to the African American Heritage Festival in a nearby town. Yes, I took the back mountain road, and mis-turned a couple of times in the rain, in this big old Chevy van and made it there with just enough time to speak with some folks and buy a few items and then to get back to sounds of the mountain for my next performance. Mark and Mary and their families welcomed me as always and as always I much appreciated the caring and love. One evening I told my Viet Nam story, "My Brother Can't Go to the Wall" Every time I tell it the story changes, and every time I tell it, it changes me. Sometimes it hurts to look back. But most times it doesn't. And so whenever I am invited to tell, or not, late in April you can pretty much be assured I'll be in the mountains.
At the Sounds of the Mountain festival in 2003. . . . And With the Quakers200 friends share an evening of storytelling with Baba JamalJuly, 2003 -- Warm greetings, unexpected surprises, and drumming after daylight were the highlights of my visit with the Quaker community at the Friends General Conference gathering on July 1st. The conferences theme was Coming to Peace and on the evening of my performance the sub theme was Pieces of Peace. Lap babies, toddlers, school age children, and grown folks gathered for the sharing of stories and as happens so often, the children start out on their parents' laps and end up almost on mine. This gathering was for the Unprogrammed Tradition of Quakers, kind of what George Fox was talking about in the 17th century - - letting God come through you, not from you. We shared song, story, history, laughter, and common values to make this a very worthwhile time together at the University of Pittsburgh in Johnstown, PA. During my free time, I had a chance to EXPLORE, my other passion aside from storytelling. I went by the Heritage Discovery Museum to find out more about the devastating floods that have hit that area every 40 or so years. 1880s, 1930s, and the 1970s. During the 19th century, eyewitnesses recounted a 35 foot wall of water coming down from the hills, carrying trains, houses and screaming people clinging to what ever or just being swept by the water. More than 2000 folks lost their lives during that flood. Of course, I had to locate the African community. There is a small community downtown, mostly residential. Apparently, there is an active chapter of the NAACP, and I had to locate the AME Zion Church I read about in Brother Blockson's book about Black Pennsylvanians. It's still there on Haynes Street. Polish, Ukrainians and others came to this area for mining and logging and just plain early 20th century industry. And yes there is a huge mall with all the usual cast of characters and some refreshing new ones. I had to pay a Sprint bill at the mall Radio Shack after Staples informed me that they couldn't take payment and to go to the mall by Sears which I did after a Long John Silvers' supreme fish sandwich. The local fruit stand on Scalp Avenue, and the Sheetz gas station was all I had time to visit. I did however, scour the campus, a small crowded one with buildings galore. The gathering was attended by folks from across the country. Diverse and searching, but with a wonderful commonality of spirit and a legendary commitment to peace. What a wonderful time, what a peaceful drum circle with friends.
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