A Birthday that I will NEVER forget!

On the eve of one of America's most historical moments, the election of America's first African-American president, President Barack Obama, I ask myself:  What will be your contribution to change?  How will you assist in rebuilding your country?  How will you serve others?

I recognize that I am in fact, as my African friends abroad would say: Living in the land of opportunity.  The land of milk and honey!!  NO EXCUSES!  There will be no excuses for my unhappiness.  There will be no excuses if I don't succeed.  I have the opportunity, the intelligence and the determination to become whatever it is that I want to become.  I will move forward thinking not only of my personal aspirations, yet, how those goals will serve others.

I believe that God and the universe has and continues to ordain all things.  I do not believe in accidents, coincidences or luck.  I do not believe that it is a coincidence that I am born on January 20th, the day in which our world leaders take the oath to lead, serve and protect.  I do  not believe it is an accident that forty years after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., that America has elected its first African American president.

So, the question remains: What will be my contribution to change?  Tomorrow, as I thank God for allowing me to experience twenty-eight years in this life, I will recite this pledge after our new President gives his inaugural speech.

I, Gianina K. Lockley, pledge that I will arise each morning with a renewed positive attitude.  

I pledge to create and live a life that is peaceful, happy and harmonious.

I pledge to show up in life and give 100% or not show up at all.

I pledge to become a resource and mentor to young women within my community.

I pledge to do something for someone else, everyday, even if it's offering a kind word or a warm smile.

I pledge to review this pledge at the end of each day to see if I've succeeded.

I pledge to continue to challenge myself to grow, learn, lead and give, even if it is not easy.

And finally, I pledge to encourage others to create a pledge of service for their lives.

How will you BE THE CHANGE?

Welcome to Accra, Ghana!

After an eleven hour direct flight from New York's JFK airport, I arrived safely at Kotoka International airport in Accra, Ghana.  Tired, yet, excited at the opportunity to deplane and stretch my legs, I entered the airport ready to battle the custom lines.  To my surprise there was a guard with a sign that had my name on it.  I was expecting my friend Horatia to meet me at the airport.  Had something happened?  I slowly approached the guard and stated:  I'm Gianina Lockley.  He asked for my passport.  I immediately became concerned.  My passport? Why do you need my passport?  Who are you really? I asked him for his identification.  He gave me a quizzical look as I returned his glance.  He showed me his official badge.  I hesitated before handing over my passport.  He then asked me to follow him.  I followed the guard to a small room in the back where he told me to take a seat before walking away with the very thing that proved my existence as a US citizen.  You idiot.  What are you going to do if he just stole your damn passport?  After five minutes the man returned with passport in hand and asked me to once again, follow him.  He then escorted me pass the long lines and ushered me to baggage claim.  He then gave me a smile and said: Akwaaba (welcome).  I smiled and replied: thank you.  I then looked through my passport and noticed that he had taken care of customs and that I had a stamp of arrival in my passport.  Nothing to do now but wait on the luggage.  

I  jokingly told a friend of mine that I no longer go to baggage claim when I'm on an international trip, I just go straight to lost luggage.  He told me that I needed to abandon that negative thinking and embrace positive thoughts that all of my luggage would actually arrive.  I told him I would as I thought back to my previous experiences.  Nigeria: no luggage for 3/4 my trip.  India: only one bag arrived.  Japan: only half of my luggage allowed to go. Perhaps this would be different.  However, I had learned from those experiences that your carry on is more than just a holding case for equipment and books to read on the plane.  I had enough clothes and toiletries to last me a week.  I was good either way.  Once the belt began and the luggage slowly began to disperse I was surprised at the extremely friendly, communal and helpful nature of the people.  Everyone helping each other lift luggage.  There were many excuse me and thank you's.  With the exception of Japan, this was the first country that everyone was so helpful to each other.  I thought to myself: this is going to be a good trip.  Shortly after, my luggage came.  A man helped me lift my bag as I walked through the gate, hoping that Horatia would be waiting for me. 

I smile as I saw her wave to me.  I'd met Horatia a few years earlier when I was working at a lab after undergraduate school.  She was working in the lab as an intern and was one of the five people of color within the laboratory department.  She was a fun, blunt and honest.  I had not seen Horatia in over a year but she remembered that I'd told her that whenever she returned home to Ghana that I wanted to accompany her.  She called me up earlier this year and said: Sistah Gurl, I'm going home for Christmas.  You game?  I hoped that financially, I would be.

I greeted Horatia with a big hug as the driver relieved me of my bags as we walked to the truck.  I had previously informed Horatia that I was due in on Saturday.  As such, she had planned a bus trip to a neighboring city, Kumasi.  The trip would take five to six hours.   "Sistah Gurl, our bus leave in three hours, so you have just enough time to take a shower then we gotta go."  I told her it was cool, as I tried not to show my jet-lag fatigue.  Off to Kumasi!

Really? President Barack Obama

It is post-election night and the entire ordeal seems surreal.  But I was there.  I stood three hours in line in my old neighborhood back in Detroit, excited to place my vote for a man that I believed could effect change for our nation.  A man who stirred hope within myself and so many other Americans. A man whose demeanor and intelligence has redefined what a black man is and can be.  Yes, I was excited to vote for Barack Obama.  

I'm currently a graduate student in Illinois but I didn't trust an absentee ballot to make it through the mail.  I had witness two previous elections "stolen" and felt that I had to visually witness my ballot being counted.  As such, I headed home on a bus to awake at 6:00am on Tuesday, November 4, 2008 to place my vote.  Everyone...and I do mean everyone knew the significance of this moment.  I wanted to return to my hood and stand with my people.  The people who I grew up with as a child.  The people who shared the joys and the sorrows of my neighborhood.  I voted at my elementary school: St. Suzanne. The school had since closed and was now a charter school.  My parents and I arrived at 6:53am to a line that was stretched around the building. (A great sign) I felt they unseasonably warm 70 degree temperature and knew that God was smiling on this historical day.  I watched my mother's nervous smile and my father's cool, yet, anxious stroll as we took our place in line.  We would stand there, with hundreds of other people, for the next three hours.  I wanted to experience it all.  As a writer, I stood with my book bag and my black leather journal which kept and consoled all of my thoughts.   This is what I will hand to my grandchildren one day.  I was pleased to immediately see childhood friends, whom I'd not seen for years.  After hugs and what up's? we all stood and waited.  

The emotions I felt standing in line to vote in Detroit were similar to what I felt as I stood in Grant Park last night.  I caught a bus back to Chicago and arrived in the "Obamacrazed" city at 9pm.  I quickly dropped off my luggage (great thing I lived downtown) and walked the five blocks to Grant Park.  My friend Radia accompanied me and was so ecstatic, as were the other hundred thousand people lining the streets.  I felt the energy but my emotions were dazed.  As I stood shoulder to should with strangers, who I felt immensely intimate with, I thought to myself: I should be crying.  I should be shouting with everyone, but all I could do was stand there and take it in.  I couldn't move.  Watching the man who has shattered the ceiling speak to us...I almost felt void.  Completely numb.  Unable to detangle the the emotions that bubbled over inside me: happiness, proud, hopeful, anxious, fear, disbelief...it all caused me to go numb.

Today, classmates approach me with tears in their blue/green/grey and brown eyes and ask me: were you there?  How do you feel?  

I believe it hasn't hit me as of yet. In the past, when I've been presented with situations and environments which overwhelm me, I often become outwardly emotionless.  While inwardly my body is a swarming pool fluctuating in temperature and temperament.  It's all so surreal.  I think I'm afraid to actually open my spirit up to what this means for me.  For my community. For the world.  

I wonder if this is how my ancestors felt when they heard that they were free.  Did they believe it?  What exactly did "freedom" mean?  What was next?

What is next?

Where did my Zen go??

Clearly I must be back in the States because I no longer have time to sit and ponder the wonders of the world:(  Nope.  It's back to the grind.  

Honestly, I'm too exhausted to even type this now.  Well (sigh), I guess it's official.  I'm a true American.

Sunday in Yokohama with Etsuko

Such Altruistic People!

I've spent the last week here in Japan alone.  No, it's okay, I've been keeping myself busy.  When a co-worker of my host found out that I would be here alone, she informed me that I should call her.  Now in America, this is generally the "polite" thing to say.  However, I'm learning that when abroad, people actually mean it.  (even if they don't, I jump right on it:))

Well Estuko meant it.  She previously asked me what I would like to do and since I had not yet visited a museum, I suggested that.  I figured we would be gone for three maybe four hours.  Wrong!  We spent the entire day in Yokohoma.  Starting at the Yokohama Museum of Art then off to do some shopping.   I was so impressed with her altruism and patience.  We were gone literally the entire day.  

I'm so happy that I continuously encounter people who are willing to extend themselves to me.  It's a reminder for me to make time for others when in the midst of my Gianinaness.  Thanks Etsuko!!