Living Proof

I was introduced to Master Naba by way of a radio show called "Health is Here," in November of 2005. The show promoted a lecture which I attended a week later at the Soul Brothers Boutique in West Harlem. In a backroom meeting space, thirty or so sisters and brothers had gathered to meet the "Master." We waited. This much I thought I knew about him: He is a spiritual leader among the Dogon peoples, an ancestral link to an unknown culture, commissioned by the elders to transmit the Kemetic mystery school teachings. As I sat there I wondered, "When he takes the floor, should I bow? Maybe I should stand. What is a customary manner of greeting a man of his stature?" The barrage of silent questions continued to fill my head until the "Master" was introduced by his student, , "Big-bye." Immediately I thought, "Big-Bye"? What kind of name is that! He isn't a particularly large man. If he earned the name by virtue of his initiatic training, was he once referred to as "Little-Bye"? He was warm, soft-spoken, and temperate. As I listened to his exposition on the need for a new way of thinking, I began to feel at ease. 

When Master Naba finally appeared from beyond the curtain separating the storefront and the meeting space, he delivered an unapologetic, sobering analysis of the history and resultant condition of the African in America. His scathing report on the detrimental effects of colonialism on the minds of African people was piercing. In rapid-fire succession, he cited stereo-typical behaviors of the colonized American male and female on every level from the social to the spiritual. "...and here I see your Black woman walking down the road with four and five children, dressed like a prostitute...No...it's not like that...in your churches, you think that you can speak to God by crying and begging...it's not like that...you people say you want freedom and you accept the teachings of your colonizers... what is that?... do you think that the white man is going to teach you how to be free of his system?.. it's not like that...it's stupid... take your hand to your forehead, and say stupid, stupid, stupid (as he pounded his head)." 

He was talking about us. He was right. That fateful Friday, I decided to become an initiate of the M'TAM School of Kemetic Philosophy and Spirituality. Did I know what to expect? No. Did I think I could do it, whatever "it" entailed? No. Did I believe that I needed to be culturally, spiritually, and philosophically re-educated? Yes. 

During my first year as an initiate, I had the honor of many first-hand experiences with Master Naba. There was the time when he offered to drive me home from Medu class in Brooklyn to Mount Vernon. "T'll take the pregnant lady." He was so ready to fill a need. It was the first time that we were alone together. I was just as nervous as I was thankful - a non-driver, I didn't have the requisite knowledge to direct us by highway. Master Naba laughed uproariously, and called the Brooklyn chapter of the Earth Center. "This lady doesn't know how to get herself home. Americans!" He drove with great speed and skill, sharing stories about what he's seen while in New York. I was so curious about the social norms, roles, and responsibilities of traditional African women, but I didn't have the heart to ask. Eventually he inquired about my physical health, and teaching job. After listening to my report on my work as a high school science teacher, he asked matter-of-factly, "How is that going to help your children know who they are?" 

I recall the occasion of sharing a meal of fish and white rice with Bikbaye (not "Big-Bye!") and Master Naba. The men took to sitting on the floor, so I sat down across from them. Still pregnant, I struggled to stand to get a fork for my portion of rice. When I returned to my spot, I scooped a forkful of rice and aimed for my mouth. A few grains fell on my big belly. Master Naba continued to eat his rice with his fingers without dropping a single grain, and remarked, "Ah, Americans! I even have to teach you how to eat properly without contaminating it."  And then there was the time when he served as elder and mediator in a family conflict. He listened to my case, and said plainly, "Whenever you think about quitting, just look down at your daughter just as you are doing now, and forgive her father. You have to understand sacrifice." 

My fondest memory is when I met Master Naba at The Earth Center in Brooklyn for a meeting to discuss personal issues. At this time he was accompanied by two of his sons from The Earth Center -- Chicago. During our meeting, I saw a father who taught Kemetic children's songs to his young sons, the most melodic, delightful songs infused with love and tradition unlike I have ever heard. He and his boys danced around my daughter and me as they sang a playful song for babies directly to Binirba to stop her from crying. It blessed my heart tremendously. 

All in all, what Master Naba represents was that rare teacher, who transcended time and space as he held out spiritual, cultural, and practical knowledge of liberation from the system and its trappings. As I recount my recollections of Master Naba, it seemed reasonable to cite some of the lessons that I learned, and the lasting impressions that he has made on my life. As I struggled to find adequate verbiage to transfer my memories to paper, I see the insufficiency of such tellings in conveying the significance of what he has passed on to future generations through me. The words on the page are... missing something vital - generational effect. What I can say in addition is precisely this: Master Naba and his teachings have indelibly marked the lives of my daughter, my partner, and myself. The spiritual practices that we acknowledge are well-defined, and historically-, and culturally-relevant, at last. We have accepted his sacrificial gift which has facilitated communication with our ancestors, the undeniable privilege to read, write, and speak the oldest language in the history of man, and the sound, practical, philosophical education which speaks truth to power, opens and challenges the mind and stirs the spirit towards true liberation. It seems clear to me now that my very life will speak of the impact more directly than the words printed on this page.