Free African Birth and Life

[TShango]

Passage taken from Foreward by Brooke Medicine Eagle of Welcoming Spirit Home: Ancient African Teachings To Celebrate Children and Community by Sobonfu E. Some

A child is born. S/he comes into the world of nature, perhaps in a simple structure where bird song can be heard. The breath of life is blown into her nostrils by the midwife, and the child draws into herself this new world. A loving and supportive embrace of mother and family surrounds her from the first moment- there are more people who want to hold her than there are hours in the day. She hears the singing of women as they work around lodges; She hears the singing of men in the fields or forest. The people around her in the community know how to get along well, and she learns these ways of relationship with ease. Love fills her days before she has a word for it.
Often she is with her grandparents and other elders who share the stories of her family and the wisdom of her people. She grows up never knowing what separation means. She runs, plays, and explores among the living things around her, while the old ones tell her what they are- a healing plant, a herd animal, a bird of great beauty. Her elders watch her and give her tantalizing array of experiences and choices, so that her natural tendencies and gifts begin to show themselves. They look deeply into her spirit with their wise, Spirit-filled eyes. What she loves and who she is becomes clearly evident, and uniqueness of her contribution to the people is seen and named and nurtured. The only code of the village is to support the highest intention and the finest being in each person. Spirit is honored in the child and in all things. She becomes masterful at what she loves, offers a great gift to her people, from her heart through her hands.


A Child is born. S/he comes into glaring brightness in a room with no windows, surrounded by the smell of chemicals. Her basic instinct is to be frightened, for her mother’s heart –beat has changed and the baby senses her stress. When she has passed through that challenging canal into the light of her own day, she is taken from the mother when she most needs the assurance of lying on that familiar heartbeat. Something stings her eyes. She is alone. Her crying brings no response, and she finally falls into exhausted sleep, to wake up again alone in a crib. When she finally goes home with her mother, she is still alone much of the time. Her mother is exhausted, overwhelmed with caring for her and the rest of the family. There is no one there to help her.
Before very long, the baby is left all day in a strange place with a stranger who is busy with many other stressed and crying children. She adjusts. She draws into herself in a certain way. Her wishes feel like demands that are not being met, and hurt and anger enter before she has words for them. No one has time to watch her closely, to give her the attention and individual experiences, to watch her response, to let her show what she loves. Home at night is full of tired people, still busy with chores at home after a long day of work. Television entertains her. Finally the whole family is together- around the TV, where someone else’s life or fiction or violence is being portrayed. None of the family stories or wisdom have been given her, and she grows up not knowing who she is.
An adult has to drive her everywhere she goes, down busy streets and highways, and she is frightened to go outside alone. In school, she is asked to sit still, to be quiet, to control her natural tendencies and interests- her aliveness is dampened into obedience. She is molded to the structure around her, made to be a good little worker. Her rhythm is tuned to someone else’s needs. A bell rings and she has a small taste of freedom. Then back to her seat. She tries to pick some job she would like to do in her life. It doesn’t work out so well, because her days are deadened and dull. Loud music and stimulants-coffee and then stronger things-help sometimes, but not for long. Sometimes she can’t even relax at night, and must take something to quiet herself and the dull ache in her head.

Which one of these is more like your early years? And your children’s? Which one do you want for your children to come? Which community would you like to call your home?