This piece is one of the greatest honors Walidah has ever had, and the highest compliment. It was written for her by Haramia KiNassor/Kenneth Foster, Jr., amazing death row organizer and poet who on Aug. 30, 2007 had his sentence commuted to life in prison because he didn’t kill anyone, he just drove a car. The struggle continues for this brotha, and for justice. www.freekenneth.com
folklore/ facts/ fa real
by Haramia KiNassor
- Yo ! Yo ! Yo ! What’s popping over here? Man, who’s dat?
- Who’s dat? Brah, you don’t know who that is? That’s that sista!
- What sista?
- WHAT SISTA? Dog, you on the late show. That’s Walidah Imarisha!
- Ehhh! I heard of that chick…
- CHICK!!! Fool, you betta watch yo’mouf. That aint no CHICK! That’s… that’s like blasphemy ‘round here. Like… remember in Beat Street when Spit was fucking wit’ everyone’s dope tags and murials?
- Yeah!
- It’s kinda like dat! Sacrilege!
- Word is bond, son!
- Right, right! My bad. Knowledge me then. What she doing?
- Brah,she doing 4 elements in 6 senses. It’s CRAZ-ZEEEE DOPE!
- “You don’t know us
You don’t want to know us
They aint scared of rap music,
They scared of us”.
ZOOM. FLASH. BAM.
- Oh shit, son! She just did a head spin on her afro and her ‘fro aint even fucked up.
- I see that, yo!
- Check that shit right there- light beams just flew out her eyes like that gal Storm from X-men.
- G, that’s old school. She was certified visionary since “this back called bridge.”
- I read that, duke! I heard she back spin wit’ 4 legs.
- No doubt. I heard her fingers move like hummingbird wings. That’s how she writes all them poems.
- True dat! True dat! They say she got Panther blood in her, that an Orisha screamed her into existence.
- Son, that aint shit! One time she did a show in West Philly and East Oakland at the same time. Said she mastered I-n-I. Divided and together.
- “time bombs laid in society
concussion grenades
duct taped to mic stands.”
SWISH. SWOOSH. POW.
- Damn, cuz. She just levetated in the air and spun 360°.
- Yo! Yo! She did that shit in New York once wearing combat boots made by a guerrilla from Caracas.
- ALREADY! This is madd sick.
GO WA-WA!
GO WA-WA!
GO WA-WA!
- I heard once in Oregon she was spitting fire flows and 100 eagles came out of nowhere and started to circle the spot.
- That’s nothing! One time in Mexico she spoke this spell, something like-
“fossil to be found buried under layers of socio-psychic sedentary”
and nobody in the village spoke for 40 days/ 40 nights. WORD UP!!!
- She on some Noah in the Ark type shit!
- Square biz! The covenant sealed in her lips.
- “I am a drop of water
a wave
an ember flame
I am a piece of this monster
called generation lost
searching for a path through
political wastelands and ghettoized master plans.”
- Yo! How long she go like this?
- Brah, one time she started a poem in Black August and didn’t finish until Kwanza!
- Kid, my uncle seen that!!! He’s an old bum and I used to take him some drinking money. Dude started saying he was a sista that looked like a whirlwind and spoke like thunder non-stop for like 4 months! I didn’t take him no more money for drank after that, son. I thought he was crazy.
ZOOM. ZOOM. ZOOM
- “bluesbecomesjazzbecomesrockbecomesfunkbecomessoulbecomeshiphip”.
- OH DAMN! She speaking in tongues now.
- Cuz, they say she speak 100 languages.
- Word?
- Word!
- It just don’t stop, huh?
- Now wit’ her, brah. Not wit’ her. It’s forever and eternal. Revolution at its best.
- Word, God!
- Like she say-
- “a new rebellion subversion love shout!”
- right…
and it goes
on and on
and on
and on…
