• SekhmetRa

Trayvon 2.0: A Creative Science Fiction Response

Rise in Excellence,

I waited until I found my voice to write about Trayvon. It is important to innerstand and look from all angles. Without going into length, on a absolute level we all return to the ancestors and another womb, yet on a relative level, it is very difficult to see one of us removed from this plane, especially when that removal is initiated by a soul in personal torment. I choose to write something a little…different because, I am for Afrofuturism and for the settling of hearts…. Please enjoy:

From where we all stood collectively in the field, there was everlasting sun, a sun that gave us all light and shade without indifference. And on a day, that was like all others, yet unto itself, we prepared a space for the return of one of our own. A child. A child, who we waited for with baited breath, did not come directly, so we did not rush sweeping about the house that we prepared for him. The day we knew of his coming, we spared no time in getting the entire family to pitch in, then we heard news that he missed his first initial flight, especially as we saw none of our women had filled belly. We took our moments…of what we have many, slowly. With long arms and strawed-brooms, we stood side by side, gently pushing whatever bit of dust we could find about the floors, that he would walk once more, out the door. Some of us, a few, who loved the way the sunlight broke evenly through the window day after day, took special care and with loving hands to remove anything that settled around the pane and window glass. And not with cloth, with their bare hands, their love fueled their patience. The same went for the other family members who handled the remaining ten parts of the house; their bodies moved in unison, their rhythm radiated a luminescence that caressed every wall and archway with life.

Once everyone had done their part, we stood outside in the field next to the tree planted by the grand essence of us all, our mother, and admired our work.  We raised our hands to the sky, towards the sun, and thanked our father in the heavens for the strength to make the doors, floors, rooms, brick and wood just right.  Right for the welcoming home of our brother. We sent the smaller ones of us into the fields, to gather nuts, herbs, plants, fruits and vegetables from our land. Then abruptly, the swiftest of us all barreled into our collective, nearly knocking over our elders. “Steady yourself in the presence of the group.” I spoke sternly to him. “Now what is the matter?” “He…he…he is stuck. He feels that he cannot leave.” The young one blurted out in between breaths. I pulled him to the side away from the elders. “You know better to than to upset them like that.” I scolded him harshly. “You know that the atmosphere is at their whim.” I continued, squeezing his hand tight. His mouth opened wide and just when he was about to scream, I covered his mouth then spoke to the others watching on behind us. “Everything is fine.” I said as convincingly as I could. It was too late. They knew. The eldest dropped to her knees and began to bawl. “My baby, my baby. He is not settled.” She carried on, her distraught spirit moved into the others around her. The ground opened up and her tears poured through the hole…down to earth. Another, her sister screamed until the sides of her throat looked like two tall trees. And…down below, typhoons, tornados and hail blanketed the land. Likewise, did the rush of unsettled hearts rush up to our abode, carrying anger, despair and confusion. It broke through our fields and barriers, confusing the children out gathering. Some came back and questioned the reason why an immature soul should be forced to meet transition by the will of other immature souls…even if that soul is not of our Land. The elders and other learned ones did their best to explain, their eyes looking towards me every so often with a subtle “Fix this.” I grabbed the young one whose tongue knew nothing of a mind and pulled him back around the house. “You…you get down there and fetch that child.” I spoke sharply to him not minding his nervousness. “And you make sure to comfort his soul…take away the weight of his heart at all cost.” “Bring him home to us.” “Take one of our learned women and have her prepare her womb for his travel.” I finished. “Yes, father, I will bring Trayvon here directly.” The young…my son…answered me with stout of heart before he took off for the world below…..

Dear Trayvon may your travel to our brethren be peaceful and may your help prepare the way for us. Ashe’

DjaDja N Medjay


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