a TRIBUTE to an AFRICAN WOMAN

Dera Tompkins
a Washington DC elder & teacher

"You might or might not remember me, but I remember the touch you have upon my life. As a young father in the early 1980's I watched you; the way you carried yourself with assured confidence dressed always in flowing white outfits that offered suggestions of the form of the Goddess. It meant a lot to me to study and absorbed what I sensed within you. I had a little girl, my first born, Janvier, whom I took everywhere with me except to work. Every time I saw you at reggae, or African concerts in DC you would appear as a vision, to me, of a consciousness flowing in white cloth. Mesmerized I stared studying and remembering every movement you made. It left an indelible imprint on my sense of fatherhood, and spoke to an unexpressed need I had.

Janvier was a curious wonder to me for several reasons. The most puzzling thing about this child was her physical and spiritual resemblance to me. I felt obligated to study myself more and more because she reflected me, and her being a girl was more puzzling because her life, from birth, required me to plunge deep into the depths of what I believed about women. That was a lot, but it was what I had. Back then I longed to return to North or West Africa, but finances wouldn't let that happen, and my marriage was young, and premature. In addition to those elements I was committed to living in the Washington DC area because my parents returned to the area, and my children needed to be around their generations.

I was learning the hard way through the drum, and my experiences in the Black church how much disdain Black Americans had towards anything remotely connected to Africa. It was one of the bitter periods of my life, and having children to raise presented me with concerns I could not share with the average Black American I met. In a real sense I was very alone. It felt that way. I could not talk about these things with my first wife. It was beyond her, and even though her matriarchal lineage went back to Nigeria she felt none of those bonds. The best respites I had were at those festivals, and those free concerts in DC where Africans, and people from our Diaspora congregated and celebrated. It was the most festive and fun place to share the African spirit with Janvier through sight and sound. Every time I saw you I knew the mythical within you, and the mysterious parts of Janvier had to be connected some way by sight or touch.

One summer day it happened. The three of us met. It was a short exchange, but it meant a lot to me. The only thing I remember being said was from my mouth explaining the importance of Janvier being in your presence. Well, now Janvier is in her early '30's, and the married mother of five children; one of whom died the day he was born. Many things live and thrive within Janvier, and her brothers, and sister, but there is a strand from you mimicked, and utilized within the fabric of my daughters. I am grateful for every thing; every element, word, and visual teaching, and sound  that went into the character of my children from the myriad of sources I exposed them to.

Grandmother, I thank you again for the strand from you: the beautiful Swan, the calm noble Lioness, and the Old Wise Woman from a tribe somewhere in the continent of Africa."

- Gregory E. Woods,
Keeper of Stories
9.03.12



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