Tribute to Onyi and Esom (Thank you for welcoming Nadja and I into your lives)

A Tribute to Onyi, Mother of Three (and her daughter Esom)

Sister Friend Onyi and her daughter Esom moved away to Georgia this morning.

Esom showed up one January as the new little Black Girl at school, so Nadja was not alone anymore.

Nadja immediately stepped to her and asked, " Do you want to be my friend?" Esom agreed and they made 'Little Black Girl History' for the past 4 years.

They laughed, argued, cried, consoled, developed crushes, watched their Mamas struggle, bonded in battles against their brothers, yelled and screamed at each other.... the regular journey for girls their age for sure.

But, what makes me cry the most right now is knowing that those moments will stay with them. They cried and hugged last night. I got to crying too, oh it was a mess, but it was progress.

I had no idea that during all the times I was driving these Little Queens-in-Training around that they were actually LISTENING to me.

For the past few days, Esom has been saying, "Tell me a story, you know, like the time Nadja was born or the time you were young, and speak Louisiana" (side eye, I think she means Southern).

I had no idea she loved my southern... accent and stories, just as much as Nadja loves them.

May we adults never underestimate the power of human contact and conversation.

Children still watch and listen and try to become the best ... or the worse... we demonstrate to them. (Which means neither of these Baby Queens will be at a loss for ways, methods, and means to give someone a good cussing out cause they were around me for years, but only when all other methods of sanity and common sense have failed).

Most importantly, I required them to be more than they wanted to embrace. They could say 'hello in about 5 or 6 different languages, but could not say 'hello' in Bété  (Nadja) or in Igbo (Esom) not even in 'Colored or Negro' but that's another Black Culture story.

So, I made Esom get her mom on the phone and Nadja get her dad on the phone to learn how to say hello in their African Ethnic (some say Tribal) tongue. It was so foreign to them they laughed and giggled so I made them put the words to beat with a rhythm.

The next day, they did not remember.... but the fact I made them do it, THEY WILL REMEMBER.

Nadja, you are a Bété / Tikar child, you have an African identity, you are not the empty- headed, souless savage your American identity claims and still tells you to be.

Esom, you are an Igbo/Iduma child, you have an African identity, you are not the empty- headed, souless savage your American identity claims and still tells you to be.

I pray to the Creator that every second you were /are in my presence that you learned how to Love and how to Survive.

Take it to the next level, learn how to thrive, in your skin, in your African Heritage, as it is experienced, as it is lived in America.

I love yall (and your brothers too -- Onyeddi, Ebube, Jean Yves Boa, Djolo, and Jalen and the newest sibling, girlchild, Little Awa too).

I love you all, remember to Love yourself and to be 'YOU',
Mama Jolivette