Askia Toure, Revolutionary Cultural Worker
Poet, essayist, artist, editor and new member of InPDUM, Askia Toure hosted a reading of his recent works in Boston, Ma. During this event, comrade Askia was, metaphorically and literally, given his flowers and saluted for his decades long commitment to the promotion of revolutionary culture.
A prolific writer, comrade Askia served on the editorial board of Black America, the news organ of the Philadelphia-based Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM). He served on the staff of Liberator Magazine, was the associate editor for Black Dialogue and editor for the Black Star Newspaper. Immediately after the assassination of Malcolm X, he would partner with another well known participant in the 60’s Black Arts Movement, Larry Neal, to found the Afro World newspaper. The first issue was published just a week after Malcolm X’s murder. He is, however, best known as one of the architects of the Black Arts Movement alongside the likes of Sonia Sanchez, James Baldwin and Amiri Baraka. One of his most widely celebrated works, Dawnsong! The Epic Memory of Askia Toure, is currently available everywhere books are sold.
African People’s Socialist Party Saluted at 2021 inPUBLIC Festival
The 2021 inPUBLIC Festival was held in Boston, Ma. the weekend of November 5th- 7th. Boston-based artists of various art forms were asked to participate. Comrade Dexter Mlimwengu was requested to submit his photography.
All participating artists were asked to answer the question “what are you tending to?” with their art displays. Dexter answered “I’m tending to myself, but the only way I can truly tend to myself and better my own living conditions Is through bettering the living conditions of my entire people so I decided to feature my work featuring Chairman Omali Yeshitela and leaders of the African People’s Socialist Party USA and International People’s Democratic Uhuru Movement. These are the soldiers on the ground fighting tirelessly to elevate the living conditions of our entire people”.
Vibrant images of Chairman Omali Yeshitela, President Kalambayi Andenet, Director Akile Anai and our late comrade Musa Abantu were displayed on the large “downtown steps” in the heart of downtown crossing. Attached were brief backgrounds on the comrades featured to add further context to the images. Onlookers were captivated with the display with one viewer, notably, being brought to tears. Many were inspired to leave and do further research on Chairman Omali Yeshitela and the Uhuru Movement.
Tiger in Junglescape/ Roar
by: Askia Toure
InPDUM member based in Boston, Ma.
The tiger waits, and heals, in cool, jungle glades,
aware that wounds abound in a gang/ claw Universe. Aware that time, once his friend, has become a bold adversary; gaining strength, while his dynamic vitality is waning. The tiger waits: golden, glowing eyes hypnotic and mysterious, predatory, furious when crushing difficult prey. A primordial being, raw with courage, savage charisma: as though God spoke fluently with striped pelt and glistening fangs, an earthquake roar announcing wild divinity. This monarch among carnivores, this champion of death, hunting endless possibilities in his grand junglescape, awaits his final breath.
Yet even in death’a grip, he’ll not go quietly, but grapple that pale stranger invading his green realm, as would any ruler magnificent, and proud.
The tiger is a tribune to our joy.
Sankofa
By: Yaasante
InPDUM member based in Spanish Town, Jamaica
Never do they use colonialism
To describe our condition
Never do they say genocide
A glaring omission
They call it racism
So anti-racist capitalism
Becomes their one true mission
Racism.
That doesn’t begin
To describe our plight
I went back to Africa
Late last night
Chanting down Babylon
With all my might
Then I was a slave
Then I was a slave
Chained to other slaves
Urging a young boy
To cool down his fright
I held his hand
Strong and firm
Resistance was near
He would learn
What to the slave
Is a flying brick
Hurled at a slaver’s skull
So thick
Hurled at his teeth
Yellow and brittle
If love is a tree
Freedom is whittled
Into an arrow
A burning spear
In through one side
And out the other ear
Of a slave master
Who wouldn’t listen
To the cries of black children
In blood he would christen
That young boy is older now
He was shot in the dark
While his pocket held skittles
He was left on the asphalt
While his skin burned and sizzled
He was killed in the park
For having a toy gun
He was suffocated by the knee
Of a colonizer having fun
From then till now
One thing remains true
The thoughts in their heads
Could never hurt you
It was power in their hands
Not lack of virtues
That made black death
A fact that would urge you
To post black tiles
And sing black songs
And use black hashtags
In a fight that can’t be won
By spontaneous struggle
Tailing tragic events
With an ideology that’s muddled
And no form of defense
Pick a bigger weapon
By now we should learn
Freedom won’t be given
It is something that is earned