Last night I attended the great poet’s memorial at The New School here in New York. The main auditorium and two additional lecture halls were filled to overflowing with artists, students, culture workers, and friends of Sekou Sundiata. Malik Yoba, Danny Glover, and Amiri Baraka were among the many artists who read or performed tributes during the service. The energy felt like a reunion of folk who care about art rooted in substantive ideas. And love.
At the reception afterwards I was talking to several wonderful people who I haven’t seen in years, and I said we all formed a kind of family – one not biologically related but who share the experience of blending art and politics the way Sekou did so brilliantly. Like most families, I said, we sometimes go for long periods where we don’t see each other, and then reconnect at events like weddings and funerals. When we do see each other, even after several months or even years, the bond is still so strong that we can take off like it was just yesterday, speak a praisesong for the spirit of the person being celebrated or honored, and then seamlessly reconnect like folk. That’s what happened last night.
I was also saying to people that any luminary like Sekou would have a large turnout for their memorial, but Sekou had such a really huge crowd because of his great spirit. I met the brother when my editor, Mailaika Adero, invited me to dinner with him and his beautiful wife Maureen at NoHo Star in the city. They were kind enough to give me a ride back to Brooklyn afterwards, and we were of course able to talk more. Because this is New York, all the greats have memorials here. I only go to a service if I feel a personal connection to the person being honored, and I felt that way about Sekou – and still feel that way about Maureen, who radiated elegant grace last night. So many filled The New School to overflowing not just because Sekou Sundiata was a great artist, but because he was a great person.
Amiri Baraka spoke about first meeting Sekou at a conference in Africa (Tanzania, I believe he said). He, too, seems to have been touched by the spirit of what he called “the young poet.” Roger Guinevere Smith seemed most touched by Sekou’s lifespirit. A saw a sister crying…
It seems crazy that a brother so young would pass on to join the ancestors – Sekou was only 59. Yesterday was his birthday, and at the conclusion of the service, Rah Goddess asked us all to stand and hold our arms out, palms facing upward in prayer. She invoked word to allow our collective energy to lift Brother Sekou, to enable his journey to the ancestral realm, to send him home, and Amen.
Comment(s)
I’d heard of his death–he was only 59?
The family-funeral analogy is apt. Hopefully it doesn’t go to part II of the sad norm: promising to get together and support each other…then of course forgetting and not seeing each other anyway. Perhaps this will hold us all together.