Saturday, February 4, 2012

Brave Bessie Coleman (Black History for Kids)


http://sweetblackberry.org/2011/11/18/brave-bessie 

Bessie Coleman, the first African American female pilot, grew up in a cruel world of poverty and discrimination. Coleman was born in Atlanta, Texas, in 1892 as the tenth of thirteen children. They settled in Waxahachie, Texas, and worked as sharecroppers. Her mother encouraged Bessie’s schooling when she showed an aptitude for math. She eventually moved to Chicago and lived with her brother Walter, a Pullman porter. She became a manicurist and worked in the White Sox barbershop. After learning French, she attended the famous flight school, Ecole d’Aviation des Frères Caudron in Northern France. No schools in America would train a black person.
Coleman returned to the states and performed acrobatics in air shows around the country and gave lectures inspiring audiences that included many children. She believed that there was freedom in the skies and would not perform in an air show with a segregated audience.

In 1998, Reeve Lindbergh, daughter of world-renowned aviator, Charles Lindbergh, wrote the children’s book, “Nobody Owns the Sky: The Story of ‘Brave Bessie’.”
Lindbergh, first learned about Bessie Coleman in 1986, the 60th anniversary of her father’s famous flight. “Bessie was an incredibly brave person who was hardly noticed, while my parents got so much publicity it was difficult for them to live their normal lives. I saw a crazy imbalance and wanted to try to set things right.”
People said she was crazy; it wouldn’t be right.

“You’re a girl, not a man, and you’re not even white!”

But did she stop dreaming? Not quite!
Sweet Blackberry was founded by actor/writer, Karyn Parsons (The Fresh Prince of Bel Air). As a new mom, Parsons was motivated by a strong desire to instill a sense of culture and heritage to her daughter. Inspired by her own mother and upbringing, Parsons created Sweet Blackberry—delivering to all children, stories that need to be told and heard.
http://sweetblackberry.org/about/
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Return To Glory's Black History Links

http://www.returntoglory.org/document.htm
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The 1st letter that celebrated Black History Month

Carter G. Woodson's original Negro History Week Letter

Carter G. Woodson (born 1875). Convinced that the history of African-Americans was being ignored and misrepresented, took steps to put things right. In 1915 Woodson founded the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, now the Association for the Study of African American Life and History (ASALH). The association was created to promote and preserve African-American history and culture. He founded the Journal of Negro History in 1916. Here is the letter than began Negro History Week which became Black History Month.
  • Launched Negro History Week in 1926, chosen in the second week of February between the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln, which evolved into Black History Month in 1976
  • Is a member of Omega Psi Phi Fraternity, Inc.
  • Known for writing the contributions of black Americans into the national spotlight, received a Ph.D at Harvard University
  • Founded the Association for the Study of Afro-American Life and History in 1915, founded the Journal of Negro History in 1916
  • Author of the book, "The Miseducation of the Negro", published in 1933
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Thursday, February 2, 2012

Turning Black History into Black Reality

Turning Black History
into Black Reality

Rodney D. Coates*
coatesrd@muohio.edu

Over the past few days the net has been flooded with the rediscovery of a letter written by a former slave, Jourdan Anderson, to his former master. It seems that the now emancipated Anderson was being asked to return to work as a slave. Jourdan’s response, filled with both angst and frustrations, was nevertheless filled with grace and power. As I read that letter, I was both humbled and empowered. Here was a man who had not only endured but survived and overcame one of the most brutal of American institutions –slavery. But, rather than being broken Mr. Anderson was emboldened, rather than being scared he was strategic, and rather than becoming bitter he became better. Jourdan Anderson was a man who deeply reflected upon the pain of slavery, but did not become consumed with it. He did not spend his time either worrying about his former master or it seems with revenge. As a consequence, while Jordan might have been victimized by slavery, he was not a victim of it. No, he adapted, grew, and finally escaped the cruelest of human situations and he did it and remained sane, whole, and determined. As I think of Black History Month, it is the Jourdan Anderson’s that bring me both joy but also inspiration. And it is this type of celebration that allows us to turn Black History into Black Reality.
http://blackimprovement.blogspot.com/2012/01/letter-to-my-old-master-jourdan.html

For all too long, many have taken this celebration as a static, almost dismal period where the staid past is regurgitated, remonstrated, and remembered. But such celebrations rarely lead to any progressive challenges, positive affirmations, or potent rediscoveries. The problem is not the celebration, but the substance of our attention. History, if it is to be of any use, must be more than informative but transformative. It must be more then reflexive but critically reflective. For it is only through a critically reflective dialogue with the past, can we design effective solutions for the present. The past, offering a blueprint of survival and achievement, provides pathways for success and excellence in the world we now live in today. Therefore, it is with joy and anticipation that I read the letter of Jourdan Anderson, as well as Harriet Jacobs “Incidents in the life of an Slave Girl”. Again Jacobs, as was the case with Anderson, does not spend time bemoaning her plight as a slave but articulating her struggle to free her daughters yet enslaved. Harriet Jacobs life was spent preaching the gospel of freedom, love of family and success. In later life, she became one of America’s first champions for a livable wage but unfortunately the value of black labor then, was undervalued, and underappreciated. Her response was not, however to accept this situation but to decry it by declaring ““Don’t believe the stories so often repeated that the negroes are not willing to work. They are generally more than willing to work, if they can get anything for it,”
From entrepreneurs –such as Madame C.J. Walker – to inventors –such as Benjamin Banneker, from actors to activist, from rock stars to astronauts –black genius, ingenuity, and determination has forged a path that has not only made history but has made America what it is today. So rather than dwell on these accomplishments as static, historical oddities –I shall explore them as clues into the mystery of life, as answers to unanswered questions, and as indicators of the possibilities of a new black reality.

*Note: Rodney D. Coates is professor of sociology and gerontology at Miami Unviersity. He can be reached at coatesrd@muohio.edu

Rodney D. Coates* born in East St. Louis, Ill., received his B.A. from Southern Illinois University, a M.A. in sociology and anthropology from the University of Illinois, a second M.A. and Ph.D. in sociology from the University of Chicago. He holds the rank of professor in the Department of Sociology and Gerontology, for 15 years Directed the Black World Studies Program at Miami University. Dr. Coates specializes in the study of race and ethnic relations, inequality, critical race theory, and social justice. Coates serves on the editorial boards of the American Sociological Review; Social Forces; and Race, Class and Gender. He is also on the executive boards of the Southern Sociological Society and Sociologists without Borders. Dr. Coates is the immediate past chair of the Section of Race and Ethnic Minorities of the American Sociological Association, and has served in similar capacities for the Southern Sociological Society. He has published dozens of articles; several edited books, and frequently writes on issues of race and ethnicity, education and public policy, civil rights and social justice. His 2004 edited book Race and Ethnicity: Across time, space and discipline won the Choice award from the American Library Association. This past summer Coates received the Joseph Himes Career Award in Scholarship and Activism from the Association of Black Sociologists. He is currently finalizing an edited volume on /Covert Racism/ for Oxford University Press.


http://redroom.com/member/rodney-d-coates
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Tuesday, January 31, 2012

A letter "To My Old Master" - Jourdan Anderson August 07 1865

To My Old Master
In August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to his former slave, Jourdan Anderson, and requested that he come back to work on his farm. Jourdan — who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio, found paid work, and was now supporting his family — responded spectacularly by way of the letter seen below (a letter which, according to newspapers at the time, he dictated).
(Source: The Freedmen's Book;
Image: A group of escaped slaves in Virginia in 1862, courtesy of the Library of Congress.)

Dayton, Ohio,
August 7, 1865
To My Old Master,
Colonel P.H. Anderson,
Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,

Jourdon Anderson.
 
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38479/38479-h/38479-h.htm#Page_265
 
http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/01/to-my-old-master.html 
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Monday, January 30, 2012

PeterPanPYT/Michael Jackson Wink Wink Nod Nod



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Monday, January 23, 2012

Michael Jacksons-Real or Fake?



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Friday, January 13, 2012

Perla -Tom Fox

Perla -Tom Fox

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Monday, January 9, 2012

A Michael Jackson ComeBack Date?



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Tuesday, December 27, 2011

I define myself, we define ourselves.

Habari Gani,


It's my 41st celebration of Kwanzaa. My parents began celebrating our celebration in their church in 1970 in Brooklyn New York. As a child I knew nothing different. We celebrated with some Jewish friends during Channukah, we celebrated the birth of The Christ on December 25th and my father, Rev. Dr. Samuel Varner schooled' me early on that this was the day that most Christians celebrated his birth as it was set by early church leaders, but not the actual date of The Christ's birth. We looked at it as we did with our birthdays, while the date of birth may occur on a Thursday, we would celebrate it on Saturday. Then on December 26th we began celebrating the African aspect of the Americas. On New Years eve we had a Night Watch service to bring in the New Year worshiping before we went partying.


While in grade school I learned that Kwanzaa was a very niche celebration and I never expected all people of African descent to celebrate it. It was very underground. I truly enjoyed the festivities and congregagtion as we celebrated in New York and also in Columbus Ohio where the community was very vibrant in it's celebration. My dad and mom were frequently interviewed and I remember a number of debates over the celebration. While in Columbus my parents invited Maluna Ron Karenga to our racially mixed church and he spoke of Kwanzaa and the other activities the US organization was involved in. While he noted that Kwanzaa wasn't associated with any particular belief system, he reveled in meeting numerous Pastors who began adding elements of the celebration into their winter church activities. I fondly remember a public debate set-up by a major Black church in Columbus Ohio which pitted my father against the church's pastor on the topic "Should a Christian celebrate Kwanzaa ?" The moderator opened with "Kwanzaa or Christmas Dr. Varner ?" My father replied "Both. The more important celebration is one's personal walk and relationship with our Savior. That's something to celebrate. Then as you celebrate other great things in your life such as the 4th of July, your birthday, or a graduation add Jesus to your invitation list. It will make the celebration sweeter." He then gave a history lesson on Christmas and how the early Christian church debated and even outlawed the celebration at times. He ended by saying "I'm proud of my African heritage and I celebrate that, and I of course invite my Lord and Savior into all of my celebrations." The debating pastor then took the mike and said "Well then. It looks like there isn't anything to debate. Praise the Lord Church." We then went early into the social hall and fellowshipped together.


We never really discussed with my classmates our celebration of Kwanzaa. It was a special event that was shared amongst the like-minded. I revel in the performances of Tony West and Imani Dancers in the late 70s and early 80s. We gathered, we interacted, we broke bread, and then we partied. I persoanally loved meeting and flirting with the girls and listening to the DJs play this new Rap music along side Disco, Soul, and Oldies. There were no fights, no problems, and lots of supervising eyes.


In College in the late 80s I shared with anyone I saw who seemed to be a celebrant that I too celebrated, yet remained silent to anyone else. I learned that anyone who seemed to publically embrace Kwanzaa or seemed interested in other African centered information was labeled as a radical, a White-hater, and UnAmerican. I always found it interesting that my ancestry which included Irish, Indian, and African had all received difficulty in their interactions in America. To wear a badege that said "Kiss Me...I'm Irish" was cool, but to wear a badge which displayed the Red, Black, and Green colors would bring difficulty and discomfort.


In the 1990s I then began encountering people who demeaned the celebration by making sure I knew that "Karenga was a racist, a communist lover, was anti-American, and was abusive towards women." To them any association with Kwanzaa was foolish and perhaps even anti-Christian. The interesting aspect of these conversations was that they were normally initiated by other Blacks or people of African descent. Here in Hampton Roads Virginia things were even different in the Kwanzaa attendants. In Columbus Black Americans, Caribbean and Hispanic Blacks, and Blacks from Africa all came together for these celebrations. In Hampton Roads only a few native Africans participated, and the Caribbean/Latino community seemed unintrested at best.








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Monday, December 26, 2011

The Color of Cola - Black History & Pepsi Cola

The Color of Cola

Published: February 4, 2007
History-making heroism, Stephanie Capparell means to demonstrate in this admiring account of the Pepsi-Cola Company’s pioneering — but largely unsung — “special-markets sales staff,” ought not to be measured solely by the fame it attracts. She’s right. Inconceivable without the giants of the ballpark and the ring, demonstrations and courtrooms, the movement for African-American civil rights depended even more on the mostly unknowable actions of millions, black and white, who created new ways of thinking and working and acting within and across racial lines.
Boyd Collection/From “The Real Pepsi Challenge”
The model for the young boy in this store display from the 1940s was Ron Brown, who became President Bill Clinton’s commerce secretary.

THE REAL PEPSI CHALLENGE

The Inspirational Story of Breaking the Color Barrier in American Business.
By Stephanie Capparell.
Illustrated. 349 pp. Wall Street Journal Books/Free Press. $25. 

“The Real Pepsi Challenge” begins with a creative, dynamic white New York businessman, a politically connected, progressive Republican turnaround specialist named Walter S. Mack Jr., who took over Pepsi in 1938. Mack, in his own words “an unrepentant capitalist and a liberal” who enjoyed playing, as Capparell puts it, “scrappy David to the Goliath that was Coca-Cola” (Pepsi’s 1939 sales were under $5 million, compared with Coca-Cola’s $128 million), decided to strengthen Pepsi’s hold on the “Negro market.” Pepsi’s 12-ounce bottle, twice the size of a Coke, sold for the same nickel, which made it more popular among poorer people; according to Capparell, Pepsi had “survived the Depression by appealing to Negro consumers.”
Mack more or less invented the business internship in 1940, with a nationwide essay contest for college graduates. Two of the 13 winners were black; they traveled through 21 states and “thousands of miles by car, train and bus, selling Pepsi” and, by implication, Pepsi’s commitment to African-Americans. World War II interrupted the program, though not Walter Mack’s racial activism: Pepsi opened three integrated military canteens that served 29 million servicemen during and after the war, while “the government’s canteens — like the Army itself — were segregated.”
Capparell deftly portrays the optimism of the immediate postwar years, especially regarding what she calls the “dizzying number of firsts for African-Americans” — in business, education, politics, entertainment and, of course, baseball — in the banner year of 1947. That year Mack hired the 33-year-old Edward F. Boyd, a National Urban League staff member working on housing issues, with a promise that Boyd could hire a dozen African-American salesmen. A slump in the soft-drink market kept Boyd to just four hires at first; his staff grew to eight in 1950, and finally reached 12 a year later. The book mostly recounts the story of Boyd’s special-markets team — the employees’ backgrounds, how they sold the cola, the coverage they received in the black press — and Pepsi’s shifting fortunes in an often volatile market.
The “real Pepsi challenge” of the title lay in the efforts of Pepsi’s black salesmen in the 1940s and ’50s to establish both the importance and profitability of the “Negro market” and the reliability and competence of the men who could sell to it. These men faced the gritty, humiliating realities of Jim Crow as they traveled through the South hustling their cola at black churches, social clubs, schools and athletic events. Some of the first African-Americans working in national corporations — who didn’t carry a broom, that is — they became role models and minor celebrities.
With Mack’s backing, Boyd ran remarkable advertising campaigns in 1948, 1949 and 1951 in the black press. Called “Leaders in Their Fields,” the ads featured profiles of African-American professionals like the diplomat Ralph Bunche, the composer Walter Franklin Anderson, the journalist P. Bernard Young Jr. and the hat designer Mildred Blount. Capparell shows how the series, copies of which black schools and universities requested as educational materials, simultaneously pumped significant income into black publications, showcased black business and professional success, and helped cement black loyalty to Pepsi.
Without calling explicit attention to the alliance among black leaders, the black media and black businesses — an alliance that sprang into action when the president of the Atlanta-based Coca-Cola Company toasted Georgia’s segregationist governor in 1950, and helped inspire a Pepsi-supported boycott of Coke — Capparell establishes the importance of their mutual support in the overall struggle against racial discrimination. Just as black sportswriters played a key role as advocates for baseball’s integration, the black press, by promoting black consumers and businesses, served to strengthen itself and increase collective black political power. In 1951, Coke placed its first ads in black papers.
Capparell, an editor at The Wall Street Journal and a co-author of “Shackleton’s Way: Leadership Lessons From the Great Antarctic Explorer,” interviewed six surviving members of the team. Through them she opens a window onto the frequently impressive, culturally conservative (and therefore often deprecated), “striving” lives of the respectable black middle class in the years before integration — men and women without whom the achievements of the civil rights years would have been impossible.
Take the story of the team member Jean Emmons: from DuSable High School on the South Side of Chicago to a steel mill in Gary, Ind.; from a junior college to an M.B.A. at the University of Chicago in 1948. Emmons received no serious business interviews until Pepsi hired him. He later earned a doctorate in education and retired in 1981 after six years as superintendent of public schools in Trenton, N.J.
More journalism than history, more inspiration than analysis, “The Real Pepsi Challenge” nevertheless deepens our appreciation not, as the author would have it, for the platitude “that diversity is good for business and that business should be good for diversity,” but for the persistence and courage of those willing to break barriers and risk the consequences.
Warren Goldstein, who teaches American history at the University of Hartford, is the author, most recently, of “William Sloane Coffin Jr.: A Holy Impatience.” http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/04/books/review/Goldstein.t.html
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Monday, December 12, 2011

Losing 19 - Judge Lynn Tolver

LOSING NINETEEN
B Y J U D G E L Y N N C . T O L E R

I lost Nineteen again today. Abandoning himself to that wasteland we offhandedly call ‘the system’, he just walked away - casually - like it was no big deal. Some claim I shouldn’t say I lost him, though, considering what I do. While I am a Black woman, I am also the person appointed to balance the books, which means, that, on this particular day, I am the one sending Nineteen to jail. I am a judge in an inner-ring suburb, a place where middle-class stability stands in the shadow of urban distractions. Here, Black, male and Nineteen is required to face the same dilemma every day; “Do I work and wait like momma said, or join the party down the street?” Forced to choose before the calm sets in, Nineteen picks the wrong one. Next thing you know, he’s standing before me, wondering what all the fuss is about.

It’s important to know that I am a municipal judge. Handling minor matters, I deal with assault, drug possession and carrying a concealed weapon charges. Unfortunately, the size of the cases I see occasionally confuses Nineteen. He views his mistake as a little thing that doesn’t warrant much concern. I, on the other hand, see it as a small down payment on an incredible cultural cost. “What’s with making me look for a job?” he asks. “Why do I have to go back to school in order to stay out of jail?” I’m fighting to keep the boy from becoming a statistic, and he doesn’t even care. So I plead, not for Nineteen to obey the law, but for him to do right by me. “You owe every Black woman who cares for you an obligation you won’t be able to repay if you’re working off some ill-gotten debt to a society you don’t owe,’ I tell him. Some listen. Most don’t. My successes are few; I decided to give up at least once a week. But I keep pressing because I don’t want to leave stranded the few I do manage to help. Those wins notwithstanding, my frustrations remain. Just yesterday, one asked me to stop bothering him. “You’re not my mother,” he said. “Why are you messing with me? Just let me do my time.” Lots of them, in fact, ask me to leave them alone. They tell me, “It ain’t no thing.” But, more often than not, the phrase that I hear is the chilling “I can jail.”

Of course, I know I only see the problems. Nineteen represents himself, well, in large numbers
everywhere. I have seven I claim outright, you know - not currently Nineteen - but Black and male. One I married; four came with him, and two I produced on my own. The older ones have already been Nineteen. They’ve had their troubles, but they’re all okay now. The ones I made myself, however, are still young; they have a lot to learn. Living well in a world that does not always see your clearly is a difficult thing to do. My boys must be able to ignore those who ridicule their efforts to do well in school while remaining strong even among those who find that strength intimidating. Tough lessons, these, but they must learn them if they are going to do Nineteen the right way. I don’t want them standing before some judge who may see them as
a statistic. If they mess around and get before the wrong guy, then where will they be? Jail, of course, is the answer to that question. The very same place that I wound up sending Nineteen
today. Frustrated because I can’t fix the world, and Nineteen won’t let me help him live better in it, I shake my head, but must move on. I have thirty more cases to hear.

“To jail or not to jail?” that is the question. How hard am I supposed to try without his help? Doesn’t he see how so much of the harm he causes lands right in some sister’s lap?
That is why I told Nineteen he owed me. “Consider the sisters in your life,” I say. “It isn’t always
about you”. Then I remind him that, whether or not he understands it, when you jail, we in jail too.

http://www.judgelynn.com/pdf/19losing.pdf

The video: http://youtu.be/zN8rXBNWnsg

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Monday, September 12, 2011

Colombian Music Festival Keeps Afro-Colombian Culture Alive

Colombian Music Festival Keeps Afro-Colombian Culture Alive

Written by William Lloyd George
Thursday, 08 September 2011
Cali, Colombia – At six-years-old, Noency Mosfuera Martinez, an Afro-Colombian leader, was forced to leave her homeland due to increased fighting between left-wing guerrillas and paramilitaries. She is one of over 5 million who are estimated to have been displaced in Colombia by one of the longest running conflicts in the world.

In 2002, Noency's hometown suffered a massacre when paramilitaries took control of the town and guerillas began to fire rockets indiscriminately. One hit the local church where hundreds of civilians were hiding. 119 civilians were killed, 98 injured.

“The whole town fled straight away, many moved to local cities, we lost everything over night,” says Noency.

Despite the risks, Noency, has worked tirelessly to pressure the government to rebuild the town and bring the people back. While acting as a leader, she has also formed a traditional band, which aims to empower the community to return and work to preserve their culture.

Afro-Colombian communities are some of the most susceptible to displacement. Their traditional homelands are often located in remote mountainous regions, which act as ideal hiding places for armed groups fighting over natural resources and drug-trafficking routes. The massive displacement numbers have worried Afro-Colombian leaders who fear they are losing their traditional culture.

Together with her band, 'Bongo De Bojaya', Noency traveled to the fifteenth Petronio Alverez music festival in Cali, Southern Colombia. The festival brings together Afro-Colombian communities from across the country, who come to dance, sing and celebrate their unique culture.

“We came to the festival because we want to tell the world about what happened in our town,” says Noency, whose lyrics tell the story. “We also want to encourage Afro-Colombian communities to protect their land and their culture.”

The festival went on for four days and was situated in one of Cali's football stadiums. Over 60 artists from across Colombia came to compete in the festival and win one of four main prizes. Along side the festival, conferences were held where experts discussed the preservation of Afro-Colombian culture.

According to Juana Alvarez, an organizer and daughter of composer Petronio Alvarez, whom the festival is named after, the purpose of the festival is to celebrate Afro-Colombian culture. “Our people had their culture taken away from them for so long, now we want to get it back.”

Standing outside the festival, Alvarez explained that up until 1991 Afro-Colombian people had no rights. Then, when the government introduced a law which gave the Afro-Colombian people the right to regain their culture, she got the idea for the festival.

She says that the government initially paid little interest in the festival but once it became popular they decided to back it. When the current mayor showed unprecedented interest and support for the festival, they handed it over, believing it would have a longer life.

“The festival is something that Afro-Colombians are extremely proud of,” says Alvarez. “It has become a space for multiculturalism, where everyone comes to celebrate our culture as if it were their own,”

According to Eliena Hinestroza, a Cali based Afro-Colombian leader, the festival is hope that Afro-Colombian culture will not be destroyed by the conflict. Along with the rest of her community she was forced to flee her town in rural Cauca three years ago when the fighting became unbearable.

Hinestroza says that the government is not doing enough to support Afro-Colombian communities. “They are trying, but more needs to be done. Budgets are being appointed for health and education but it just is not reaching us.”

She believes that if a peaceful solution is not found to the conflict, Afro-Colombia culture could disappear as more and more are being displaced to the cities. “We are not used to the cities,” says Hinestroza. “When we move we lose much of our culture and often live in dangerous conditions.”

One of the winning bands 'San Bata', who play traditional Chirimia music, came from one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Medillin. “If you are my age and you step into the wrong street, they will kill you. It is so territorial,” says Wilmer Bonib, the lead singer and at 21 the oldest member.

Bonib says many of the youth are losing a connection with their homeland as they grow up in distant areas, far from their parents homelands. The violence has also meant that many of the youth are caught up in gang culture rather than traditional culture.

“The best thing about winning the festival is that we will send a message to the youth,” says Bonib. “We hope they will now realize that there is other ways to become successful and they will be interested in traditional things again.”

Due to the mainstream media neglecting Afro-Colombia music, there has for some time been little interest in their culture. According to festival director, Alberto Seviliano, Afro-Colombian music is never played on the radio, even in Cali where most the people are Afro-Colombian. This, he says, the festival wants to change.

“We are making Afro-Colombian music popular again,” says Seviliano, sitting in the production headquarters. “Now it has been on the television and the radio, we think mainstream media will now pay more attention to this vibrant and important music.”

Also, for many of the musicians it is an opportunity for them to get their music known, which would otherwise be forgotten.

Jorge Eliecer Llanos, the lead singer of traditional band 'Son Del Tuno' told Upside Down World he believed that without the festival the music from his region would never be heard. Having traveled seventeen hours on boat to reach the festival, he says one of the best things is the cultural exchange with other communities he would never know about.

“We live isolated, far from anyone else, it would be easy for our style of music to die out but the festival keeps it alive,” says Llanos. “We have been invited to play in Bogota and other towns, allowing us to keep an interest in our particular style of music.”

Recognizing the ongoing marginalization of African descendants and their culture, UNESCO made 2011 the “International Year for People of African Descent.” UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon said, “People of African descent are among those most affected by racism. Too often, they face denial of basic rights such as access to quality health services and education. Such fundamental wrongs have a long and terrible history.”

Despite the urgency and importance of the festival for Afro-Colombian communities, the emphasis of the festival was recreation. Thousands crammed into the stadium adorning African symbols, waving handkerchiefs in the air, swigging local brews and dancing from start to finish.

Despite the light heartedness, a strong message was sent by most the artists and attendees there.

“We want everyone to know that Afro-Colombia culture is here to stay and it is only going to get bigger” Noency told Upside Down World before heading back to Bojaya. “No matter how much conflict there is, we'll keep struggling, and we will keep singing.”

Thursday, August 18, 2011

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