In Honor of Two Great Peace Warriors

This is to honor two important and generous men: Elegba Earl and Joe Ranft. They were good friends of mine. They were also active in peace and the struggle for men to heal, become fuller in life, and to help transform this world into a more just and healthy one.

Elegba was one of the five brave Watts residents who walked into rival gang territory to stop the Bloods and Crips gang warfare some 13 years ago. Since then, he participated in a number of organizations like the Community Self-Determination Institute and other peace and justice organizations.

Joe was one of the four founders of Pixar Films, which produced such award-winning films like “Toy Story,” “Nemo,” and “The Incredibles.” He hooked up with a number of the Watts peace warriors and helped bring some of Pixar’s resources to their assistance.

Elegba and Joe met at the Mosaic Multicultural Foundation’s Annual Men’s Conferences in the Woodlands Camp, Mendocino, CA, where I have been a teacher and poet for a decade, along with activists like Michaal Meade, Mosaic’s founder; Jack Kornfield of Spirit Rock; and Orland Bishop of Shade Tree Mentoring in South Central LA.

Elegba and Joe were worlds apart – a black ghetto leader and an upper-middle class white animator. But in the men’s conferences, they shared stories, poems, ideas, emotions, and visions. They became fast friends and peace collaborators.

On Tuesday, August 16, the men were driving to the Mendocino conference with another Watts peace activist, Eric Fryerson. Some 11 miles from their destination, the car they were in became crowded by another vehicle. In trying to move over, they overcorrected a couple of times and then fell about 120 feet down an embankment into the Navarro River. Eric was able to get out. Elegba and Joe didn’t make it.

As you can imagine, we were all devastated when we heard the news. Eric was in the hospital and as soon as his lacerations and other injuries were attended to, he requested to reconnect with our group. We had a hard time continuing, but we knew we had to – Elegba and Joe died trying to get to our gathering. We mostly held a long week-long funeral, but also sustained some intense dialogues, workshops, and a number of morning practices and rituals. I was particularly moved by the men’s quality of listening – they were particularly present for the young people, some from the bloody streets of Boyle Heights/East LA and Watts, who needed to be heard and helped, along with others.

I attended Joe’s funeral in Mill Valley near San Francisco soon after leaving the conference. Tomorrow I’ll be at Elegba’s memorial in South LA.

The work we do to help transform lives must go on. For years, we have helped each other to become better, smarter, more connected and active men. It’s difficult work – we’ve also lost a few of our friends to violence, suicide, diseases, and prison. But the passing of Elegba and Joe hit us particularly hard. I send my deepest condolences to the families, friends, and colleagues of Elegba and Joe.

Be well, my friends, on your journey to the great ancestors. Our prayers will accompany you. But more so, your example will guide us as we carry on the work you both led. All my relations.

A Hummingbird at Macondo

I’m in San Antonio this week as a “chuparosa” – or hummingbird – in Sandra Cisnero’s Macondo writing workshops. I came to flit about from workshop to workshop, seminar to seminar, taking in the great writing and serious talk about writing that Macondo is known for.

Various classifications of people here include “hormigas,” the worker ant people who get much done for the workshops; “mocosos,” or snot-nosed kids, the first timers at a Macondo workshop; “chismosos,” the gossipers, who have come back from previous Macondo experiences; and “famosos,” well-known guest writers who run workshops and seminars; among others.

I’ve met amazing new writers as well some old friends who’re here to teach, learn, and interact, such as Denise Chavez, Richard Blanco, Tammy Gomez, Amada Irma Perez, and more. I love being among serious writers – I don’t get a chance to be among them on a regular basis most of the time.

I also love being among the young writers – it reminds me of the hunger, openness, and fears I had when I first started out. And with my veteran colleagues – it’s good to share what we’ve learned in the writing world, especially from the “borderland” spaces, struggling at the margins to tell our stories, our truths, our dreams (all books are a dream realizing themselves into the world).

The workshop participants and teachers are of all ages, sexual orientations, and colors: one two-year participant was born and raised in China – there are also Native Americans, African Americans, European Americans, and all kinds of Latinos (Mexican, Central American, Puerto Rican, Cuban y mas).

Sandra started these workshops more than 10 years ago. At one time, she had them at her dinner table. It has since outgrown Sandra’s house and is now held at University of Texas, San Antonio and Our Lady of the Lake University. University dormitories and local bed & breakfasts have collaborated to accommodate the participants.

Muggy days aside, it’s great to be back to this great “Mexican” city. Here being Mexicano/Chicano is in the very earth, generations upon generations. Sandra is a gracious host. It’s been 25 years since I was last in a writing workshop as a participant (I’ve taught many since then). It feels good. I will also do a seminar this week and be part of a gala reading near the end. Here’s to serious writing and serious talk about writing.

The Road to Renewal and Strength

My family and I have finally returned from our travels to Arizona. We drove into San Fernando late on Sunday evening, after a 12-hour drive from the Navajo Reservation.

To recap, we left ten days ago in our minivan to the Arizona/Mexico border, south of Tucson. I talked for around three hours to some 50 wonderful student teachers in Sierra Vista – near the Mexican border – as part of a University of Arizona program to help orient incoming teachers on the culture, values, and interests of Mexican/Chicano and other Latino students. I also read to faculty, administrators, and other students in the afternoon. I thank Cynthia McDermott and her staff or arranging these events – and for the great hospitality.

One concept I brought to their attention was Nemachtilli – the Nahuatl (Aztec/Mexika language) word for “learning.” But more is involved. It’s the unity of the spirit of learning (feminine energy) and the spirit of teaching (masculine energy), which are vital if any learning or teaching is to be going on. The link between these two sides of Nemachtilli is imagination and creativity. One of the results of a totally engaging teaching-and-learning experience is healing – for the psyche and soul from trauma, confusion, and even “cultural” brainwashing.

I brought up the same concept to Tucson Unified School teachers at a conference sponsored by the University of Arizona Raza Studies Department (Augustine Romero, head of the Raza Studies Department, hosted my stay and made sure I had a receptive group to address). Before hitting Tucson, the family first went to Bisbee for a day and evening. I was always intrigued by the town after once participating in the now-defunct Bisbee Poetry Festival many years ago. We stayed at the “officially” haunted Copper Queen Hotel (paranormal experts have cited 13 entities there). We also did the Queen Copper Mine tour, and walks around the artists/writers/hippie community that emerged after the mines closed around 1975.

In Tucson, I spent a day with the teachers – around 80 or so. I did the morning keynote talk and conducted two breakout sessions after lunch. Again, I had a wonderful response, including fantastic Q&A periods. Of course, I talked about new ideas around teaching, around mentoring, around creating community, and making sure all children are actively engaged in learning their whole lives (something that the present educational system fails to do with most students).

From there, the family piled into the minivan and drove the nine hours to Lukachukai, below the Chuskas Mountains on the Navajo rez near the New Mexican border. We came to visit Anthony Lee – the Navajo Road Man and Elder – who adopted my wife Trini many years ago (and consequently the whole family). We’ve been coming for ceremonies here ever since (I first came in 1997; Trini was adopted in 1999).

The whole Lee family (his wife Delores and their six children) have been wonderful toward us. They have become more “family” than my own family (who, of course, I love, although we are not close spiritually or politically). With lots of hard work, time, and energy, we prepared for another all-night prayer meeting. Many of our friends on the rez attended – in particularly John C. Smith and Floyd Begay. Much sacrifice, prayers, songs, and intense inner conflict comes with the ceremony. It’s always hard for me, but I know when it’s over, I need it. I come in broken, stressed, angry, and I come out awakened, pulled together, balanced, and renewed.

With ongoing sweat ceremonies near our home in the Northeast San Fernando Valley, and the cultural work centered around Tia Chucha’s Café & Centro Cultural we try to maintain the blessings and protections from the prayer meetings, so many miles away from the rez.

We came home safely – my son Ruben read two Harry Potter books, the latest big ones, and Little Luis read about four of the earlier ones. I came home to 800 emails and tons of regular mail. But I’m back into the blessing / protection way. I’m back to being whole for the often painful conflicts, battles, and work ahead. Tlazhokamati (thank you in Nahuatl) to all who helped along the way.