Wambui Bahati's Blog, page 7

We Used To Want To Know

You just can’t let anybody come in your house.

All of the children that I knew in my Greensboro, North Carolina neighborhood were given specific instructions that no one was to come into their home if their parents were not there.

Some mother’s rule was that no one was not even allowed in the yard, if they were not there. Other mothers were okay with a child coming in the yard as long as they didn’t come in the house.

My mother’s rule was, if she had met the child or their family and had given me the okay, they could come in the yard — but, still not in her house if she wasn’t there herself.

Even when the parents were home, not just any child who came to the door could come in. If a new friend came to my house when my mother was home, my mother would meet them at the door.

My mother to the child:

“What is your name?”

“Where do you live?”

“What’s your mama’s name?”

“What’s your daddy’s name?”

“Where does your daddy work?”

“Does your mama work?”

“What kind of work does your mama do?”

“What church do y’all go to?”

“Who is the pastor over there?”

These are some of the questions parents wanted answered before they let an unknown child in their house. I remember being given the ‘third degree’ myself many times by my friend’s parents.

But that was not the end of the investigation. After a period of questioning, my mother would step aside and let my friend come in with me. However, I would often, immediately, overhear my mother on the phone with another neighbor or church member that she knew. The part of the conversation I would hear usually went something like this:

“Hey Mary! This is Eva. Ann (me) brought this girl here by the name of Cookie Jones. You ever heard of any Jones that live on Broad Avenue? She said she lives on Broad Avenue. Oh, so this is Mabel’s niece. Which Mabel? Oh, Martha’s granddaughter. Well, she said she went to Rev. Peter’s church. That’s why I called you. I know your sister attend over there. She said her mama works at the cigarette store. What is the cigarette store? Oh — Lorillard Tobacco company. Her mama works in the cafeteria. Oh, I see. Her family is from South Carolina. Well, thank you Mary. What? Oh, you sure got that right. You got to know who is coming in your house! I’m going to finish cooking my dinner now. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Now, there were times when the child in question did not pass the interview. A couple of times after my mother would finish speaking with her friends on the phone, she would pull me aside (so the child could not hear) and say. “That girl can stay and play ‘today’. But, don’t bring that child back in my house no more.” That meant that something turned up during the investigation that was troubling to my mother.

My mama would say to my brothers, sister and me, “Don’t be running in and out of everybody’s house and you got to know who you let in your house. You just can’t let anybody and everybody come in.”

In later years, boyfriends and husbands were not exempt from her investigations. And, when my children were young, I would often find my foot blocking the doorway of our apartment, looking down at a young child as these words, unconsciously, rolled out of my mouth, “Who are you? Where do you live?”

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If my mother were alive today, she’d be one of ‘those’. You know — those people — the one’s who are laughed at and called conspiracy theorist, looney or ‘birther’. Because, you see, I know that my mother would ask questions.

She would want names and dates — and to know where all the kinsfolk are — and, who the kinsfolk of the kinsfolk are and what they do for a living — and, where they go to church. She’d want to know who the classmates were and who their parents were and what they did for a living — and where and when each of them were born . . .

I imagine my mother saying, “People need to know who is in their house. Doesn’t everybody want to know?”

And, I would say, “Mama, you are so ‘old-fashioned’”.

Tagged: 1950, Autobiography, Birther, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati

Some Childhood Memories . . .

I had one pair of black patent leather Mary Jane shoes for Sunday school and church.

I had one pair of shoes for school.

When I came home from school, I changed into my one pair of shoes for play.

Each year, as I outgrew each pair of these shoes, they were replaced with another pair that usually looked like the pairs before.

My mother bought Buster Brown. She said they were the shoes of better quality.

We dressed in the finest clothes we had when we went to church. For church, I wore a hat, white gloves and I carried a purse that matched the black patent shoes.

My mama would spray me with ‘To a Wild Rose’ Avon Cologne.

I had a church coat. I had a school coat. I had a coat that I wore for bicycling riding and playing outside after school.

Sometimes we’d play Superman and I was happy when it was my turn to be Lois Lane.

My favorite things to do outside were swinging and making mud pies in my back yard.

I didn’t need a lot of other children to play with to be happy.

I was very happy playing by myself.

I would cut out the pictures of the people in the Sears Roebuck Catalogues. My make-believe Sears Roebuck families would keep me busy for hours.

I liked ‘Captain Kangaroo’, ‘Romper Room’, ‘Howdy Doody‘, ‘Mighty Mouse’, ‘Yogi Bear‘, ‘I love Lucy’ and the ‘The Mickey Mouse Club‘.

I used to wish I could be Annette Funicello.

The day we got our Mickey Mouse Ears – a next door neighbor, my sister, me, a brother

Loosing my skate key was my biggest frustration.

However, I was afraid of skating down big hills.

My favorite Christmas present was a two foot tall, black, bride doll that looked just like Pearl Bailey.

Pearl Bailey in “St. Louis Woman”, photo by Carl Van Vechten-(wikipedia/commons)

I wished my mama didn’t have to go clean those white folks’ houses.

I wished my daddy could quit his post office job and open an electrical appliance fix-it shop or write songs all day.

My Mom and Dad – 1950′s

I wished we were rich and lived in a big, pretty house with a giant yard with so many rooms I would get lost in it sometimes.

I wished my father would stop drinking.

Tagged: 1950, African American, Autobiography, Black family, Black woman, childhood, Life, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati

My Sister is Fabulous!

me (on the right) and my sister about 1952 or 1953

I don’t know how long this post will be up. You see, it’s about my sister who I think is fabulous. My sister is a little more conservative than me — a little more reserved. Unlike me, she is not always eager to be in the spotlight or have things — even if they are good things — about her all over the internet. I know she reads my blog from time to time. So, if she sees this and she asks me to tone it down — or, take it down, I will. But, in the meantime . . .

Roberta Washington

Last week, my sister was the for the annual Women’s History Month observance which honors and celebrates the lives and achievements of American women throughout the history of the United States. One of my daughters and I went to hear her speak at The African Burial Ground National Monument here in New York City. Her lecture was entitled, “A History of Black Women in Architecture”.

The cool thing is that my sister, in addition to other historical and amazing buildings, is also the architect of The African Burial Ground Interpretive Center (also referred to as the National Park Service Visitor Center) located in lower Manhattan adjacent to the memorial site.

When my sister decided to become an architect many well-meaning adults tried to talk her out of that decision. Her teachers would say to her, “You’ll make a wonderful art teacher”.

You see, architecture is a field that has historically been dominated by white men. In the 1960′s, for a black female child to have a dream to be an architect was considered unrealistic. However, my mother fought for my sister’s right to at least try. Against the odds (and there were many), my sister succeeded.

My sister, Roberta Washington, FAIA, has been principal of Roberta Washington Architects, PC since 1983. Prior to starting her own firm, she worked as a health facility planner/designer for various New York City architectural firms and later ran a design studio for Maputo Province in Mozambique where she designed healthcare, educational and cultural projects.

I could go on and on. But, I’ll restrain myself for now.

Her presentation was great! The audience held on to every word that included information she obtained through personal interviews with some of the first African-American architect pioneers before their deaths.

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Marie and Ranger Doug

To the left is a picture of my daughter taken with Ranger Doug Massenberg ‘Ranger Doug’ after the event. ‘Ranger Doug’ sphere-headed this event and pretty much runs the day-to-day of the museum.

We fell in love with his grand and warm personality, his dramatic way of speaking, his love for his job and his wealth of knowledge about American history and the Federal government.

When I asked if it would be okay to post his picture in my blog. He said, “Just one moment”. He walked away for a second saying, “Wait — wait.” He returned with his ranger hat on. He posed next to my daughter and in his jovial voice said, “Now, take the picture!”.

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When we left the museum I followed my daughter to Grand Central Terminal. She said I must come to see what looks like a field of giant piñatas in the station.

Giant piñatas in Grand Central Terminal

We asked one of the young women guarding the piñata looking things what they were. The woman told us they were horses. She said that for the next few days Alvin Ailey Dancers would be performing with them.

She said one dancer would be in the head part and a second dancer would be in the tail part of each horse. There would be drumming and a 25 minute show would happen.

Straw Horses in Grand Central Terminal

Grand Central Terminal, New York City

As we reflected on our day and took in the grandeur of Grand Central Terminal, we agreed that New York City is pretty fabulous — ALMOST, as fabulous as my sister!

Tagged: 1960's, African American architect, African American woman, Architecture, Autobiography, Black woman, female architect, Life, Robert Washington, sisters, society, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati

Sticks and Stones . . . Are We Too Sensitive?

I remember saying this phrase with other children when we were in elementary school. Our version was, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

Today, as an adult, I feel I must conclude that the age-old “sticks and stones . . .” proverb and its meaning have been forgotten by most or no longer holds any truth.

I notice that many people, of all ages, are overly sensitive to what others say. We spend an awful lot of time being hurt by words. We feel offended. We feel insulted. We feel disrespected. We are angry.

I’m often reminded of a book I read back in the ’80′s by Terry Cole-Whittaker. By just reading the title, I gained a whole new perspective on life. The title is, “What You Think of Me is None of My Business”.

I was well into adulthood when I realized that the only person who had the power to label me as anything was me. Yes, there are all of those societal labels. And, that is just what they are — societal labels. They are ‘not’ me and they are ‘not’ you — unless we choose to claim them as our own.

Yes. Words can be written as laws that take away our freedom. Yes. People can use words to threaten — or, emotionally manipulate someone who is emotionally weaker. Words can be used to bully others or used to cause serious damage to ones personal or professional life in the form of a lie. In these cases, we must do what is necessary to protect and exonerate ourselves and our loved ones. This includes changing unfair laws.

However, daily, as we interact with each other, can we loosen up a little? The words that people say to us or about us only have the power and the meaning that ‘we’ give them. Words are the means one uses to express their thoughts. The optimum word in the previous sentence is ‘their’.

I may not like what someone says — or, how they say it. However, they have expressed ‘their’ opinion, not mine. Therefore, it has nothing to do with me. I can choose to be insulted or choose not to be.

There have been times when I was the one who got it wrong. I have wasted energy getting upset over something someone said and then find out that I heard something out of context, or I misunderstood the meaning of what was said.

And, not too long ago a man accused me of insulting him because I used a word that he felt was politically incorrect. The last thing I wanted to do was insult that man. So, you see, he heard the word as an insult, I heard the word as the best way to describe what I was trying to say.

If the opportunity to share information or enlighten each other comes about, great. Otherwise, it is impossible to make someone love, honor or respect you. Hang on to your power. Love, honor and respect yourself. We can choose to walk away from, turn off, or stop reading words that we don’t like. However, remember, an open mind is empowering.

There are too many amazing things to see, do, and be in this vast world other than fight with others over the words they choose to say.

So, let’s move forward — solid in the knowledge of who we are and knowing that another person and their words cannot define us.

You cannot be torn down by someone who never had the power to lift you up in the first place. Only YOU have that power.

Tagged: Autobiography, inspiration, Life, self-development, self-esteem, society, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati, words

Thank You Clouds N Cups (I Look Good In This)

One of the blogs I follow is called “Clouds n Cups”

A few weeks ago, I participated in one of the contests that they have on their blog from time to time.

I was one of the winners. In this video, I am giving them a huge shout-out and thank you.

I am wearing the necklace and matching earrings that they sent me.

Don’t I look good in them?

*****

http://cncfashionaccessories.wordpress.com/

Tagged: Autobiography, Clouds N Cups, CloudsNCups.com, cncfashionaccessories.com, Fashion Jewelry, Life, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati

DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW

DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW

A few days ago I was staying in a hotel in Weldon, North Carolina because I was presenting at an event at a college there. I saw this tag on one of the pillows. Seeing it brought back memories of me seeing this tag when I was a child. I Remember seeing a similar tag on the furniture in our house.

Seeing this tag always made me a little nervous because the tag had the words ‘UNDER PENALTY OF LAW’ in all capital letters. When I was a child, ‘UNDER PENALTY OF LAW’ were scary words to me. Even as an adult, ‘UNDER PENALTY OF LAW’ can still conjure unpleasant images. (Images like courtrooms, fines, judges, juries, handcuffs . . .)

I remember the tags saying, “DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW”. When I was a child, I don’t remember seeing the phrase “except by consumer” on the tag. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. It just means that either I was too focused on the words ‘UNDER PENALTY OF LAW’ to notice anything else — or, I didn’t know what ‘consumer’ meant. All I know is I was deathly afraid that I might remove one of these tags by accident.

I was afraid that should one of these tags be removed from anything, I would be faced with some lawful penalty. There would be consequences for either me or my parents if someone found out the tag had been removed.

I never saw any, but I assumed there were people whose job was to check homes to make sure no one had removed any tags.

However, it turns out that during the early 20th century some manufacturers were not honest about what materials they were using to stuff their pillows, mattresses and other furnishings. Communicable diseases were often spread by some unsanitary materials.

The government established consumer laws to help bring about disclosure of what manufacturers were putting in their stuffed goods.

A tag disclosing materials used became the law

A tag was required on every stuffed item to inform the government, retailers and consumers what materials were used in the various products. It was against the law for the manufacturer or the retailer to remove the tags. The “DO NOT REMOVE . . .” message was never directed at the consumer.

So, I removed one such tag from one of the pillows in my hotel room and then I panicked.

Here is what I was pondering: If I am a guest in a hotel — that doesn’t really make me the ‘consumer’ of the pillow. Does it? The hotel is the real consumer — I mean, they are the ones who bought the pillows. Right? I’m just using / renting the pillow. Therefore, I am NOT the lawful consumer.

Therefore, can I still be prosecuted ‘UNDER PENALTY OF LAW’ for removing a tag that only the lawful ‘consumer’ is allowed to remove? By removing a tag from a stuffed item that I did not ‘purchase’ myself, am I breaking the law?

Well, not wanting to take any chances; I sewed the tag back on the pillow. Yes. I did. For real.

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NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!!!

Tagged: Autobiography, Black woman, consumer laws, consumers, Life, tags on pillows, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati

Walking Through the Fire — and, On the Water (sort of)

There are some moments that are more unforgettable than others.

There are some moments that are more unforgettable than others. These are two of my unforgettable moments:

Unforgettable #1

Near the end of the 90′s, I made a trip to Baltimore, Maryland. I left for Baltimore on a Thursday afternoon. I was excited to be attending the four-day ‘Unleash the Power Within‘ seminar. (Yes! I’m one of those.) The next evening, Friday, at about five-thirty, Anthony “Tony” Robbins (the world-famous self-development guru walked on stage.

[This was not filmed at my event. I just added this YouTube video in case you wanted to know more of what the event was about.]

He spent most of the afternoon preparing us for the fire walk. At about 9:30 that evening, he told us to meet him in the convention center parking lot so that we could get used to the heat. Baltimore fire trucks were there. Yes. It was real fire—burning wood chips. The heat, alone, was almost unbearable.

We went back into the auditorium where he continued to prepare our minds, bodies and spirits to walk through the fire. It was about midnight when we all went back to where the rows of burning wood were again.

Well, there were some who didn’t want to do the fire walk. Each of us had to agree to the legal disclaimer. I wanted to do it. There were many rows of burning timber. Each row appeared to be about ten feet long. I found a line to get in.

My turn came up three times before I felt I was ready. Each of those times, instead of walking across the fire, I’d just get back in the end of the line. The last time my turn came around, I remembered everything he said about focusing, and I stepped out. I walked so calmly across the flaming wood.

At the end, just as he had told us, someone grabbed me up, while someone else rinsed off my feet with a water hose to wash away any stray pieces of burning wood that might be stuck to my feet. I walked on fire! And that was just the first night!

Every since then, When things happen that could be stressful in my life. I say to myself, “Hey, girl! You walked through fire, surely you can get through this.

Unforgettable #2

Fast forward. The year is 2010. I had presented my domestic violence show at Horry-Georgetown Technical College in Conway, South Carolina. Poor me, I had to stay at Myrtle Beach. (A most wonderful treat — Myrtle Beach in October)

Mrytle beach in October – 2010

The woman who was driving me to the airport said that we had extra time. So we went to the Myrtle Beach mall to hang out for a while.

I saw these giant plastic balls. I asked the man with the balls (no pun intended) what the giant balls were for? He said people get into them and run to keep the ball spinning so you stay standing — like a human hamster. He was trying to get people in the mall to try it. No one was willing. Well, I just had to! I immediately transformed into a five year old. “I want to try it!”

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. People in that area of the mall were laughing at me in the giant ball — especially, the little kids. Professor Lela Rodgers took these photos. I’ll never forget it. Hey! I tried to walk on water, but it didn’t work out too good. But oh, what fun it was trying!!

I think I can do this — steady . . .

I think I’m losing control — oh no!

Hmmmm. This is a little more difficult than I thought it would be.

Perhaps it doesn’t look like it, but I really am having a whole bunch of fun!

Tagged: Autobiography, Black woman, inspiration, Life, Myrtle beach, self-development, self-esteem, Thoughts, Tony Robbins, Wambui Bahati

Toto, Are We Still In New York City?

The Ebony Hillbillies

This morning I was on my way to meet a friend for lunch in the theater district. I took a subway from Harlem down to Time Square / 42nd Street. As I’m walking through the station, I started hearing sounds that I could not identify as usual New York City sounds.

I hear what I would describe as “down home” (Reminiscent of a simple, wholesome, unpretentious lifestyle, especially that associated with the rural southern United States. – Oxford Dictionary) sounds. I hear a “bluegrass” sound. I hear an upbeat, “old timey” string band sound.

As I come around a corner, I see where the music is coming from. There are four men playing string instruments.

Low and behold! It’s the Ebony Hillbillies!

You do not have sufficient freedom levels to view this video.

Here is just a teeny tiny taste — hmmm — I think I want to tap my toe.

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I’ve noticed that the above video doesn’t always work. So I uploaded it to YouTube as backup:

Tagged: Autobiography, Black People, blue grass, Ebony Hillbillies, Life, music, New York City, string band, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati

Last Weekend? Yes, Amazing!

The Beginning of an Amazing Weekend. The flight to Texas.

I live in Harlem, New York City. However, over last weekend, I was in El Paso, Texas – Juarez, Mexico – and, Huntington, Long Island.

In those few days, I had the pure pleasure of meeting some of the most beautiful, warm hearted, compassionate, strong, dedicated, smart and talented people ever! As a result, I have also reminded myself of how much I don’t know – and, how much more there is to see, and do, and experience in this vast world.

The Rotary Clubs of El Paso and Juarez, Rotary Districts 5520 and 4110, the YWCA of El Paso, and Fort Bliss sponsored a “Peace Weekend”.

Friday:

I was the keynote speaker for the “Peace Begins at Home” luncheon on Friday in El Paso. This event focused on Domestic Violence and ways their community agencies and other resources might be pulled together to eliminate violence in the home. The luncheon was followed by a training conference.

Saturday:

Gathering at the Rotary Emblem in Juarez

I was invited by the presenters to travel with them to Juarez for a “Peace Breakfast” on Saturday morning. The Juarez Rotary club was the host. As far as I am concerned, they took the meaning of ‘hospitality’ and genuine ‘friendliness’ to a new, higher level.

I arrived back in New York at about midnight on Saturday.

Sunday:

James Jamerson Jr, Wambui, Peobo Bryson

Sunday evening, my sister and I went to see our cousin, Peabo Bryson, in a show at the Paramount Theater in Huntington Long Island. The show is called “Standing in the Shadows of Motown – ‘Live’”. Starring Peabo Bryson and Leela James — Featuring James Jamerson Jr. on The Fender Bass.

This show celebrates the Funk Brothers, a group of Detroit musicians who backed up dozens of Motown artists. However, one Funk brother, James Jamerson, is the focus of this production. In this show, James Jameson, Jr. tells the story of Motown bassist James Jamerson (his father) through his own eyes. He and the other performers celebrate his father’s legacy with photos and selected scenes from the movie version of ‘Standing In The Shadows Of Motown’ — in addition, to performing ‘live’ many of the enduring Motown hits.

The musicians and singers are all powerful!

If you are into the music of Motown — or, into just plain good music or soulful singing or having a good time, check out this show, if you can. The show is touring.

Yes. You want to see and hear all of these extraordinary singers and musicians as they take you back down memory lane.

Yes. You want to hear Peabo Bryson sing, “What’s Going On”. Yes. You do.

What a treat this show is.

Last weekend? — a mind-blowing treat!!

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Peace Weekend March 8-9, 2013

Standing in the Shadows of Motown

Tagged: Autobiography, Black woman, Domestic Violence, El Paso Rotary Club, El Paso Texas, James Jamerson Jr, Juarez, Leela James, Life, Motown, Peobo Bryson, Standing in the Shadows of Motown Live, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati, YWCA of El Paso

My Underground Affair with Amazon.com

My Underground Affair with Amazon.com

It all started when one of my daughters told me her friend’s mother had written a book of poetry and it was on Amazon.com. I like poetry and I like my daughter’s friend. I decided to order a copy of the book.

I like Amazon. However, sometimes Amazon.com is kind of creepy. I mean, the way they — like YouTube, are always recommending things to me. It’s like they’re saying, “We know who you are. We know where you’ve been. We know what you like”. It’s like I’m being stalked; which, I suppose, I am.

Also, when I first got my Kindle, I read something I wanted to remember. So, I highlighted a sentence. Then, a message appeared on my Kindle that told me Twenty-three other people highlighted that sentence. Hmmmm. More information than I wanted to know.

I don’t necessarily want others knowing what I’m reading. I’m certain I don’t want others knowing what I choose to highlight. And, as if that were not enough, I read that one day everyone who had a certain edition of ’1984′, had the book disappear from their Kindle.

It seems that Amazon.com had to get the book back because of a copyright issue. Can you imagine that? Your book, that you paid for, just vanishes right off your reader. After that incident, I never underestimated the power of Amazon.com

I ordered Peggy Salvador’s book, ‘In My Eyes’. I was confirming my mailing address when I saw an option for having the package mailed to an Amazon locker. The point that sold me on the idea of the locker was being able to pick up the package at my convenience. I decided to give it a try.

I chose a locker address near the Whole Foods Market where I shop. The address for my locker was at a 24hr-parking garage. Convenient! I received an email when the book was shipped and another email with a special code when the book was at the locker.

I wasn’t sure what to expect since I did no online research about the Amazon locker what so ever. I assumed I would go somewhere where a man or woman would be standing in front of a cage full of all kinds of Amazon goodies. I imagined I would have to wait for that person to check my code against a bunch of other packages — kind of like picking up clothes from the dry cleaner.

However, when I walked into the garage and looked to my right, it was love at first sight.



I saw my Amazon locker. It was big and very yellow and very shiny.



I walked over and stood right in front of the Amazon locker.



An animation on a screen instructed me to enter my code.

I entered my code. Then, silently, and magically, one of the compartment doors opened. I looked inside the open compartment. I saw my package. I took the package out. I closed the locker door. That’s all there was to it.

Amazon.com, I ‘high-five’ you on this one! However, now, I’ll be looking for reasons [buy more stuff] to return to the Amazon locker and enter more codes and open more little yellow doors forever and always.

(But, you already knew that. Didn’t you, Amazon.com):)

Tagged: Amazon locker, Amazon.com, Autobiography, kindle, Life, New York City, online shopping, technology, Thoughts, Wambui Bahati