It can be said, I say from personal experience, that after one feels the swift brush with Death the colors of the world and the sacred-ness of one’s reality seem much more brilliant and tactile and abundant. The flowers smell sweeter on one’s walk to the park. The Golden Retriever dog hair piled up in the corner of one’s apartment seems more like evidence of a precious life instead of a dirty house.

My last few days in Guinea in 2008 revolved around a traditional style wedding of my Dance Teacher Moustapha’s daughter… It was stunning to say the least… no smaller than a 2 day affair with NON STOP music and dancing and food and a gazzilion million people… and the DRESSES that the women wear!!! HOLY SMOKES!!!! I drew the conclusion that prism of color has evolved into a different spectrum of light in Africa.. A sacred rainbow of vibrance that here in the west we have no comprehension nor explanation for…

And the dance in Guinea, West Africa…

Oh this dance… I cannot explain the exquisiteness the dance encompasses in the English vocabulary… This dance is not
a spoken language… It is the language of the Authentic Spirit. This dance is shared
from soul to soul… no translator in between…

My second to last day in Conakry, Guinea I was at my Teacher’s daughters wedding
Dununba celebration… A Dununba is essentially a dance party with live drumming to one of the many Dununba rhythms. At one point my Teacher and a dancer from
the ballet started singing to me “my song”. (For some reason it had
become “my” song. During my 5 weeks in Guinea I would go around Moustapha’s compound singing the song Kumi and when I would sing it, the women and Moustapha would laugh deeply from their bellies. It was soon after my name changed from Yari, my previously given name, to Kumi).

So back to the Dununba Ceremony at Mawa’s wedding: my teachers Moustapha and Aminata start singing the “Kumi”
song and then before I know it all 400 people at the Dununba celebration are singing the Kumi song, beckoning me to dance…

(Let me interrupt here to tell you that this trip in Guinea I had been
very un-interested in solo-ing at Dununba’s)…

So… with more than 400 people singing “Kumi” I get up and dance… I
closed my eyes and I feel the drums thru the earth and I feel the
singing voices enter my heart… I was dancing, but more than that we
were all dancing in this almost Sea Anemone kinda way… we were all
one and I felt ready to burst with love… Really, I have NEVER felt so
full, so alive with that indescribable spectrum of color penetrating
my pores… I could feel the hair on my head growing and my
fingernails getting longer… After the solo ended I retreated to my
bunk bed in the compound and cried… cried to have lived that moment,
cried to be so blessed, ‘cried cause what else do I need besides this
love? Nothing… I need nothing..

The next day Rohiatou, another Goddess studying at my teacher’s Moustapha’s that year, and I caught our flight back to America. I had
only my little backpack filled a few presents and a few new lapas
(what we wear for West African dance class) and nothing else. I gave
everything except what I was wearing on the plane to my girl Mabinti
and all the suitcases that had been filled with medical supplies had
found grateful new owners. I hugged my family and shared tears with
them… hundred of kids looked at us with enormous eyes and remained
silent as we left…

The flight from Conakry to Casa Blanca went smoothly. I was stoked and thought for a moment that I just may make my connection in JFK to Albuquerque. 4 hours into the flight from Morocco to New York, however, our plane does a
nose dive to the ocean. The stewardesses were screaming and everyone
was in a panic. As we approached the water a very kind man next to me assures me will will be safer going to the rear of the plane for the crash. I see my life
pass before my eyes and realize how deeply I miss my mother. I have
enough time even to think that after such a wonderful life, this is
how I am gonna go, in a freakin’ air plane. 800 feet above the ocean
the pilot regains control of the plane and comes on the intercom to
say that he is going to try to make it to some nearby islands. From
that moment until we joyfully landed, I was witness to the most
powerful session of prayer. In 15 or more different languages, we all
prayed with the same goal: to live.

We landed in the Azores Islands and cried and hugged each other and
felt the inner glow of life… a day latter Royal Air Morocco sent
another plane JFK bound and we all boarded with shaky legs.

All I can say is this: Prayer is Powerful.

And so here I am…

And so here is another photo shoot I have the honor of creating because yes, indeed, I am still alive and so deeply in love with this life. Here is my old friend Christina with her son, her man, her papa and her sister. They are like family to me and I am happy I still get to love them, hug them, photograph them.