Reconciling the Path's Heart, pt. 1


"...Black men in America are being removed from the earth like loose sand in a wind storm..." ~Haki Madhubuti

....I divined for him, casting the Obi Abata, Akorani: A quarrel or difficult situation. Amosun has been fatherless for too long and now the shadow has displaced the sheet of tears once visible by shades of the sun. In the mirror, his stained face conjures memories of the missteps made while negotiating his manhood, pillaging the path. He celebrates the young warriors turned pimps and thugs, while basking in the absence of balanced love. The same balanced love that inspired his conception, that same balance of earth and wind that was once a harness for his strength, but are now weapons for his labyrinth. That charming ambiguity of his used to disarm all who dare to navigate its tangled roads without first acquiring a legend or without leaving three pennies for Latopa--the gatekeeper. He has learned to exploit the insecurities of those intrigued. Through self-discovery he observed that everyone has a void waiting to be plenished and most often welcomes unassuming, yet foreign solutions. This is a skill he inherited from his father. I asked Amosun did he find it ironic that even in his father's absence he managed to adopt the same traits that characterize his forebear, he replied "Irony don't mean shit, why resist your destiny?" He continued, "I'm not here for you to ask them questions, just tell me if it is safe for me to travel to Maputo or not." He wanted to visit a friend who spoke endlessly about the opportunities in Moçambique. The need for financial infrastructure(i.e. money laundering), the beautiful women and the bountiful land, all of which were all attractive enough for him to relocate forever. It also offered a welcomed change to the concrete cage that informed his lifestyle and worldview: Paterson, NJ.

I told him that going to Maputo was not such a wise choice right now, but that he should seek further counsel. He wasn't pleased to hear that, because that meant soliciting the services of Ifalodun Amusan, my father. My father always liked Amosun and treated him as his own son. I'm sure that's one of the main reasons why Amosun became part of the Ile. Being that my father was a babalawo, an olubata and overall a well-respected elder in the community, he functioned as a surrogate father to many of the young Black men in our community. For reasons I could deduce, he was hesitant to seek guidance from my father in this matter because he knew that my father would ask questions that, out of respect, Amosun would be compelled to answer. Instead, he came to me.

He would regularly ask me to divine for him, but my inquiries would routinely be dismissed. According to Amosun friends shouldn't broach such topics and those who do border suspicion. So, normally I would ask without prying, but this circumstance required deliberate thought and action. That being the case, after reading the Obi I pushed the questions and once again he disregarded my inquiry. I urged Amosun to speak with my father, because his situation warranted greater spiritual technology. Since I'm just an apprentice and not fully initiated, my father's the only person in north Jersey who can be of use. Amosun knows this, but doesn't want to be held accountable for his intentions.