Oh how I Love it when you call My Indian Red!

My Indian Red

I remember as a kid waking up on Mardi Gras Day in Uptown. The air was always hot and sweet with the anticipation of the celebration. My heart was always racing when I was holding my parent’s hands while I was halfway running to the corner on Jenna St.  The drums and whistles from the bands that woke me were louder and I was high on my father’s  shoulders waiting for that Zulu coconut to come my way.

” Tell ’em, Throw me something, Mister!”, my father would say.

So I yelled, making my voice as loud as I could with my father dancing around with me on his shoulders. I caught a golden Zulu coconut and I watched my father fight for it too. We would only stay for a little while with my father commenting on how Zulu was the only thing worth standing and waiting for. Then we would go for that lovely ride to the Trème. On the way, I would see the remnants of the early morning parades with feathers and beads in the streets and my father would say,

“That’s from them Indians gurl.”

Over the years I would ask my father about the Indians and even if we had Indians in our family. Shrouded with religion my father would tell me they are dangerous and stay away from it all, but it never stopped my persistence in finding the truth of our Culture in my own family. So, I went years watching from the sidelines and being held back by religious fanatics claiming that Mardi Gras and all such celebratory expressions of our Culture were something to be suppressed and instead we were to replace these expressions within the praise of Christianity.  This only made me dig deeper within myself because I knew that only the Culture could and would sustain me.  I pleaded with my father throughout my childhood years to show me at least where in our family the Masking Tradition existed as I could feel it growing in my bones with each passing year but he did not give in so easily still putting the supposed joy of Christianity higher than anything else, so I waited until the moment of when going to college had arisen.

I trailblazed to Washington, D.C. to attend Howard University. I found the Culture alive and refreshing.  I was finally able to spread my wings and meet people literally from everywhere. The Mecca took over my entire consciousness, breathing life and bringing light to all the spaces that I had to suppress at home.

After a time of classes and study, I wanted to go deeper into the rich Culture that I could see and feel around me. I once again began to feel like the little girl on Jenna St. I experienced DC Carnival and a lot “fêten” for Bacchanal and Jookano and once again I knew it was time to ask again,

“Where is the Indian in my family?”

After years of having extensive and deep conversations with my father plus growing my own family, I finally wore him down to showing me a photo of my paw-paw (grandfather) in full masking for the Mardi Gras Indians.  Mixed emotions clouded my mind but I could only express joy knowing that this photo had also brought more questions with it.

As it stands now, both my father and paw-paw have transitioned BUT I know now one of the greatest roots of my family !

Featured Photo : My Paw Paw Masking for Mardi Gras Indians, Tribe : Geronimo Hunters

Photo 1 : Voodoo Queen Kalindah Laveaux en suit Masking for Mardi Gras Indians, Tribe : Yellow Pocahontas



Photo2: Divine Prince Ty Emmecca en suit Masking for Mardi Gras Indians, Tribe : Medicine Man, Voodoo Chief


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D.C. Paul , the Tambourine Man Tribe : Wild Tchoupitoulas


The Power of Culture: Jidenna-Chief Don’t Run

One more time with Jidenna empowering our New Orleans Culture especially with Mardi Gras Indians in his video!

Bon Fête! Bon Mardi Gras! Bon Zulu!

Bon Fête! Mardi Gras Bon Fête!

Meh Zulu down the lane wit mask in hand

Footwork to dat African beat

Step, dip, twirl, jump and twist

Meh know di Truth ah di Cultah

Go Voodoo child Go!

Is dat rhytm dat keep di Queen Of New Orleans in  she steady heartbeat

Meh, Maaardiii Gras!

Fête until we tired cause we do it nicely

I see My Ancestors in dat Parade chile

Floatin down dat street

Throw me something, Mister!

Yuh guard dat Queen’s Seat

Shower me Oh Queen with Blessings

Make meh life Nice and Sweet

Twirl under my umbrella

Jump a second line!

Laissez le Bon temps Rouler!

Bon Fête! Bon Zulu! Bon Mardi Gras!

Farashuu Ahadi Sakina 2017©


Pirate’s Alley

Pirate’s Alley you call to me

Lurking in the shadows thieves of old stand ready to rob the ill prepared soul

I adjust meh beret and quick step with dagger in hand

You called me

I was content to swimming in the depths of the Bayou

Content with keeping I mysteries

But you called me to see these men who boasted to have known my treasure

To drink with them and listen to the stories of how only I had made them merry

So I arose

Under the moon’s shine and bid my tail a temporary goodbye to revel in glory with thee

Oh Pirate’s Alley

How theif man a thief a treasure so pure that he would be sure that he had known I

Coming through the entry way

Who be these men of new and old to have joy down this narrow road

Oh Pirate’s Alley to thee I come

Farashuu Ahadi Sakina2017©


Mardi Gras Tornado

This year when we “Laissez Le Bon Temps Rouler” , Quick Step to our Second Line and drink that new drink called Tornado drop some for our Egungun, dip some for our Ancestors, drop some for the Queen Madame Laveau and Remember who We are!

Farashuu Ahadi Sakina 2017©