knowledge leads to honor: imogunla alakoye 1947 - 2006: rest in peace

o ye generations

watched a buddy die sunday
martin simmons aka imogunla alakoye

massive stroke wiped out brain function
donna pulled the plug

i was there w/the family - doctor said
it was time, folk couldnt take it should go
donna said we could stay

and so i did
and i watched his spirit leave his body

supposed to do remarks at the funeral saturday
i will work them out here maybe

had to cancel a big schoolhouse presentation im supposed to do saturday
for the multicultural folk - that was a bummer, i dont miss gigs but
i had no choice - donna needs me to be there

imogunla was my literary running buddy and i was his
part of the new renaissance writers guild crew (long story)

god we had such dreams back in the day

when we were young and immortal and
destined for literary greatness

with visions too tall to be strong

but i just googled him and didnt get but one hit
and it wasnt legit (another long story)

watching him die was like the end of an era
the difference between being 30 and gods chosen

and in our 50s having to accept the reality that
we are just basic garden variety humans after all

here but for the briefest moment

in a desperate bid for literary greatness
and immortality

alakoye was a true visionary and only i
am left to tell the story

dorisjean, safiya, davidearl, and now alakoye
my generation has begun to check out

thats very sobering

the fickle finger of fate is just so ruthless
one literary buddy has had two strokes and lost a limb to diabetes

and working all the more ruthlessly on his big novel
if anything it seems to have improved his work, lent it an air of intensity

imogunla had one stroke and it wiped out his brain
(if this dont reinforce my own determination to get my work done nothing will)

i can hear that clock ticking
a little louder every year

when you working on a big project at our age - projects you
know will take years and years - its such a gamble

you constantly negotiating: just let me finish this one god
then we can talk about the next one, okay?  just give me this one

but alakoye was nothing if not a gambler on the
hoodoo board of destiny

he was the wallace thurman of our generation
crotchety and fragile and brilliant

he had sickle cell and every couple of years
had complete blood transfusions

he never expected to live past 30

donna gave him another 30, she gave
him another lifetime

really? she said when i told her that
you dont think i aggravated him to death

she so sweet and he so lucky to have found her
she the only one who could have put up with him

much less loved him

i remember when he first met her
came to me all excited over this woman he had met at hunter
shes perfect he told me, shes all i ever wanted in a woman
im going to marry her

and so he did - twice

and i remember all the ups and downs

i remember once during his exile, donna cut off
access to the boys - so he went to court and came to
me talking about i need you to take this summons to donna

i said what, oh no no no, - not me you dont, im not doing that
he said who else will i get to do it

so here i am trekking to queens and donna was so happy
to see me - until i pulled out that summons

god that was an awful moment, and donna refused  to
take it - but her mama said no take it, ohyeah, take it
he want to go to court we will go to court, we will show him
what time it is - i barely escaped there w/my life and dignity intact

and i will always remember me and fred hudson best manning at
the wedding, i think it was the 2nd one - im not sure

i remember the first time i met alakoye at freds one little workshop
in the basement of a church up in harlem - when fred doug creative arts center
was more dream than reality - just a baby - and so were we

and i remember the harlem writers guild days and the new renaissance writers guild, talk
about trauma, that one like to broke me, but imogunla always kept my back covered

and i remember williams christening and not having the faintest idea
what a godfather was supposed to be or do - and still dont, but ima try, i figure
it meant i was imogunlas backup, just like always - im his wingman

and i remember all the time and quarters we spent on 42nd st when video games
first came out, playing hours and hours of pong, and missile command, and xaxxon
and elevator spy

while talking literature and history and politics, the future, women and
everything under the sun in our fevered plans to rule the world and

be great literary men

and i remember all the times i fell off the edge of the earth
and ended up in imogunla and donnas basement out in queens

i remember when they bought that house, how much it meant to them
how much they struggled to hold on to it

when i heard he was in a coma and on a respirator
i knew i had to go down, more for donnas sake than his, or even mine

but shes a trooper, and when it came time to
pull the plug she made sure he went out w/dignity

i am reminded of the african story of the hunter
who while on the hunt accidentally killed one of the kings men

he went to his brother and said i have killed the kings man
what should i do

his brother said i wish i could help you but i have a
family of my own that i must think of, surely you understand

he went to his father in law and said i have killed the kings man,
what should i do

his father in law, a man of power, said i wish i could help you
but i have responsibilities and people who rely upon me, you must go

he went to his friend and said i have killed the kings man
what should i do

come said his friend, we must bury him

imogunla took a lot of my secrets to the grave w/him

i watched him die and by god and all thats holy i will help him live
in myth and legend (and the works of his peers) - for i am mythmaker

and this story has yet to be told

and when it is - imogunla alakoye will live forever
in the hearts and aspirations of all our generations

martin simmons in his chosen yoruba name
knowledge leads to honor

my love to all of you
gods blessings on us all

rickydoc flowers

wouldbe prophet of
the hoodoo way

Comments

[E.C.OSONDU]

Imogunla, I never met you -my loss- but I sense that you were a great soul. As you enter the land of the spirits, do not eat sand or millipedes, eat only the food of the spirits. Sun re, omo Ogun.

[Sheree Renee Thomas]

A wonderful tribute, Arthur!

[rickydoc flowers]

ec and sheree

fellow travelers and
keepers of the faith

good looking out

[Jomo K. Alakoye-Simmons]

N'sala Malunga

I happened to be doing some research on Palo/Hoodoo/Kongo. I recently was intitiated as Tata/Nganga, feels like I've stepped forward onto my path fa sure. Anyway in surfing and reading, reading Nalo's BGITR, on the day of crossing over Oct. 31, all hallow's eve, and crying to the words. Her story within me, my story written in her words. Then giving my prayers to my Unc as sacrifices are made, that he cross over well and peacefully, that karma not hold him here, or there in the middle, that he not be held to Imogunla or Alakoye as a ghost but as an ancestor, venerated, loved and even more, that he be able to sit on the edge watching the sun rise and fall on us and be available to us. Since then I've been reading and surfing and reading and watching my mind, my thoughts in a way whittling and honing. Challenging business in this world of distraction and de-evolution. Then picking up Mojo and reading on Daddy Mention and Uncle Monday and continuing slow and easy as it all makes sense now or at least more makes sense. Going to my God-fathers and being honest in tears and love, seeing Dr. John and siete rayo and understanding the light that I view my Unc in and bathe him in so he not be lost on his travel(s) that I guess are coming to a close. Today I woke earlier than I have in a while, 5:30 am or so, decided to read some more of Fu Kia, working to resolve my past, transform my future, and be present. My intent to learn all I can and be all I can be without hurting anyone, even if I have to be a physical warrior, then let it flow from my mind first to give balance and no pain. Somehow I end up being here, coming from the orb of Djenra where I was able to read a better explanation of Kongo Cosmograms. You see all my life I felt connected to what isn't but is. Life was what it was, then I met my Uncle Imogunla again, it felt better, my fam has always been going through their stuff, but Unc's words always had my back and front. He never flinched when i called him Imogunla instead of Martin. It felt natural to me, my name being Jomo, then when I recieved Ogun, His name became even more significant. He gave me support in doing the work i've been doing, and the struggles I've had in doing/being. I hadn't seen him in some months, busy learning the ways of healing and being, time travel, and language of the Gods and Goddesses and finding all that is within me and being well with it(me). I got the call on a night I planned to just chill out and went to the hospital with my Dad, not before reading with Yangi and ori, his ori and mine. I wanted to give what I'm learning to help him come back. I never saw him as gone, just not animate in his flesh. I saw him in the hospital, inanimate to the western eye, but to my eye he wasn't but...it is as it is supposed to be.

So now I'm Tata/Nganga, working to learn all I can about who I was, am, and will be. Working for Onile, for my mother and my mother's mother and father's mother. It's not pretty business. Working for the people, studying us, a lot of disharmony. Since I'm new, I'm hot and wanting to know as much as i can, I remember when I went to S. Carolina, Beaufort, in 99, came back feeling like I found home. Always in my head it's felt that way like i'm from the south, came here to a place where we don't realize we still slaves, much less the extent to our servitude. Then I went, I came back with sticks, grass, rocks, stones, and visions, plus squeeta bites as big as dates. I haven't been back, but will soon. The Taino in me comes from there and the Caribbean, the farmer in me comes from my yesterday, I need to go back, it may be the only place on this continent I can call home, and maybe when i return to live (if I can) I'll have peace and bring peace with me. I have to go back to touch the water, go to the islands, find what I was or feel and honor properly. I'm doing the work here in NY, the nkisi, the hoodoo pouch of civilization, where all that is on this planet exists, from inwood to the wall(st). So much I'm finding as i create my magick here, learning the lore of the land.

I miss writing, school requires a lot of left-brain (with standardized tests and all), yet its all right brain. Working nights absorbs a lot of building energy, so the writer in me is weary, though my brain is full of songs, words, statements, ideas, stories and it hurts too. I never got comfortable with that write a little at a time, the minute I put my hand to pen I want to take the whole story out in one stroke, something my body still doesn't know how to do. I write to release, to share, to test myself. My mind a cornucopia of endless pathways of action and inaction. I'm working to extend it to my body as well or at least my spiritual body. Go and come back, come and go back. n'kingu ye bimpa/ the science of higher knowledge. The work starts for me with everything I know and feel, Africa from the coast, to bush to desert and back again, Austra-Asia, the America's as Coastal explorers, leaving effigies of self to mark terrain for generations forward, Indigenous stewards and Surviving slaves for Class, Patriarchy, Capital, and Ignorance.

I read to know me, I've read Zora, Gloria, Alice not for their school, but for my school, Then I forgot about Zora and found Octavia and my world fell, all I wanted to do was write like her. When Unc showed me my Uncle Ade's book, I found someone who felt what i felt now then and spoke on it. He did work, and shared it with Unc Imogunla, my father and mom passed it on to me, and I'm working sometimes hard, sometimes light, but I'm working. My Uncle Imogunla felt in our last conversations that I was continuing what he kinda gave up on. I never thought he gave up, his children are one of the marks of that, his family another, the workshop another, his honesty regarding life another.

I met you (as far as i remember) at the Workshop, but when i sat next to you in the church I felt like I knew you before the workshop, you didn't catch me at first, i can only imagine the depths of your focus on what you would soon be saying/doing. So after all of the month of October, which featured, a passing forward of my Uncle, plus two birthdays for me (physical and spiritual). I'm sitting and writing and studying and at peace.

Thank you for your words, I want to continue to share with you, if that is fine with you.

Love, peace, compassion

Jomo

[rickydoc flowers]

jomo

wow man

i didnt know you was walking
the path

would like to post that one
as a post if its alright w/you

imogunla part II: legacies

cannot tell you how moved i am
to know you walking the path

and keeping the faith

not only keeping the faith
but putting some things on my mind

sound like you got that alakoye
wisdom going

we gon have to commune my brother
you have renewed my own faith

in struggle
rickydoc