Rewind Selecta: A response to the imaginary "where-the-hell-have-you-been" letter

Did I travel at all last year? Yes. Did I reflect? Yes. But somehow an entire year has gone by without me coming up for air on this site. I don't know how it happened; maybe it was a consequence of moving back to New York. Truth is, I was only planning to stay four months; I was going to do some teaching, catch up with the family, and water my roots. I was thirsty for home in a way that I had not been before. But before I knew it, I was juggling teaching jobs, and jostling for space daily on the E train. I was happily calling my closest friends by dialing 11 digits instead of 13. I celebrated both of my parents' birthdays with them for the first time in a long time. It was a blessed time. 

On your mark, get set, go... 

I started out working with six amazing writers. I ended up calling them the "Emergence Poets." These folks are fierce. Jawanza, Tyrone, Ramona, Juliette, Brett, and Monika all wield the word with integrity, passion and love. It was wonderful to work with them and watch them in action when they read their work to a full house at the African Voices office in Manhattan. Working with these writers was one of the high points of being back home. Big shout out to the Emergence Poets! You can see their work in the featured poet section. 

I also survived my first semester in academia. I still can't believe it. I had the privilege of teaching a College Composition course at Medgar Evers College, and I loved it. I slept under a blanket of essays for four months and I learned more about the English language than I ever thought possible, but in the end, I was awed by my students and deeply inspired by their intelligence, dedication, and determination. 

Don't try this at home.

 My work with the emergence Poets and my work at the college overlapped with a six month stint at an after-school program in Bed-stuy. The students I worked with were absolutely brilliant. They had the kind of energy, wit, humor, and open-mindedness that teachers dream about. Unfortunately, the administrators and the system around them were the stuff of nightmares. Watching the clashes and the mud-slinging that took place during the time I was with that program was the absolute low point of my journey home. (see reflections )I thought I respected teachers already, but listen, I gained a whole other level of respect for those teachers who brave the New York City public school system. Folk speak often of change and revolution; teachers are truly on the front lines. 

My 14 months back home helped my gain a strength that only comes from re-piecing ones' own broken heart. Relationships began and ended, students I wanted to see soar were weighed down by too many years of miseducation, and a person I respected and cared for was murdered. It was a heavy year. Sometimes--well, most times--it felt like a battle, but I was sure that the work I was doing had some sort of purpose. The real struggle was convincing myself that I had the ability to fulfill those purposes. When it came to my work, I kept reminding myself of something I read in SARK's books, "Worry is not preparation." And as far as everything else that went haywire, I had to trust that there was a plan beyond my limited understanding unfolding. Something Divinely ordered that would reveal itself at some point. And that was that. 

OK, so I've tried summing up a year in a few paragraphs and of course I've left out things: the healing trip I took to South Carolina, and the talk I gave in Milwaukee during Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and the time back in September 2003 when I read on the same bill as Colson Whitehead!!!!! and the time back in 1966 on the Delta River when I caught that--OK, forgot where I was for a second. Anyway :) 

Now-Now 

So at this very moment, I am not juggling jobs or dashing for trains in New York. I am not watching boats sail up and down canals in Amsterdam. I am writing you from the border or a dream. I am writing you from my home on a college campus in Namibia, Africa. There is much to say. In the weeks ahead, I hope to get my hands on the tools to say it. I'll be here for almost a year, but this time, I promise not to let the whole thing go by without sharing something. Take great care. 

much love, 

Ekere