Takumbe

Takumbe

Son of Harlem & Nigeria

Hip Hop boombox advocate

I am a Puerto Rican

I too have West African blood in my veins

Fela's afrobeat speaks to us,

"Ala roye Yokode" keeps us alive,

Hermano, my broda,

this is our common-unity,

our communidad ,

our birthright.

Heir to a throne unclaimed,

you deserve more than street corners and tips.

Go forth and dance on the streets of life,

may children's laughter be your audience,

Move this mountain.

Smile and fill our lives with song Takumbe,

smile for every injustice served onto our plates,

smile for the atrocities handed to us with friendly grins,

smile your beautful smile,

taste true harmony for those left

with no tongue to speak.

It is time to birth legacies.

Jah Jah say time to be heard.

Step down Mista Politician.

No more colony.

You friend, are a King,

and under the Tree of Solomon

you will sing your final song.

Branch out into the world for me, Takumbe.

Smoke for me in the next life, great teacher,

smoke until your words reach me here on earth,

Invade my city with reason and a bright future.

Smoke until you realize, brother,

"when policeman aid Papa and take me back to Africa" it was not a curse,

That 2yr old was returned home to become who he was destined to be.

New York is not your resting place Takumbe,

this city is not your Hip Hop.

And off to follow the God's you now go,

I did not shake your hand to say goodbye Takumbe,

but to thank you for opening my eyes,

I now see the world is much bigger than my community.

It's sounds are more exotic than any mixtape,

It's grandeza more beautiful than

the sparkle of hope in your eyes.

May Fela one day greet your entry into paradise chanting

"Ori-ginal, no arti-fici-ali-ty!"

Roberto Irizarry © 2010