“the people who could fly.”

long ago in Africa there were people who could fly. 

they'd fly like blackbirds, soaring through blue skies. 

this was their rite of passage. back then it was common to see folx take flight.

but when these Africans were abruptly stolen and enslaved by white colonizers--they suffered.  

no longer could they breathe in their Mother Africa.

on the ship, they forgot her sweet scent.

they mourned her warmth. 

onboard, they witnessed horrors.

hellish gnashing of teeth.

some didn’t survive.

some willed their souls away.

some shed their wings on the shores of Mami Wata. 

now in this new world, they had an enslaver, and the enslaver had an overseer, and the overseer had a driver. 

they all echoed the same biting cruelty.

time went on, and one day, Isabella, an elder, remembered something that enslavement was committed to making her forget. 

while witnessing the whipping of Sarah, an enslaved woman with a baby strapped to her hip, she chanted: 

               “Kum buba yali kum buba tambe, 

                Kum kunka yali, kum kunka tambe.”

Sarah heard her and repeated the chant. 

together, they began to rise.

light as air. flying.

astonished, others bravely whispered:  

               “Kum buba yali kum buba tambe, 

                Kum kunka yali, kum kunka tambe.”

and just like that, 

dark melanated shimmery glowing holy bodies moved through gravity, effortlessly.

their flapping wings likened to the sound of thunder. 

‘chile, can you imagine the look on that enslaver's face?

word spread like wildfire, and in the fields--black bodies flew!

where’d they go? 

--i can’t say.

but some enslaved Africans did remain, they never learned to take flight.

some ran. 

others stayed.

our ancestors preserved this story, inscribing it in their flesh. 

trusting that the people who could fly, 

would awaken.