Sister Somayah, songstress's, former Black Panther, and healer passed unto the ancestors Friday, November 28, 2008. For further info. called Brother Akile at 323-799-8409.
bilal ali
Dearest Friend of my Sister "peaches',
My heart is at once heavy for the movement's loss and grateful to our merciful God of Abraham that she is at last free from the pain she bore for all the oppressed people of the world.
From my first conversation with her in autumn of 1993, when I was an intern at the Alliance for Cannabis Therapeutics in Washington, DC working with Robert Randall, I knew she was different. She called in tears to say that folks at the Sickle-Cell conference had laughed at her when she first started speaking about the hemp oil's use for sickle-cell pain. She said she was embarrassed and broken-hearted -- to the point she almost left. We talked for a while. I don't recall what I said to her, probably just some "hang in there" type platitude. I barely knew what sickle-cell was, just that only black people get it. Well "hang in there" she did, and a day or so later she was back on the phone with me. Scott you are never gonna guess what happened. "Over night, one of the conferees had an attack, had no narcotics, those folks started lookin' for me. The never found me but one of the folks in the hotel had a bottle of Hemp Oil I gave 'em. this gal used it, they pain went away, and do you know when I arrived in the dining room for breakfast the next morning, well you'd thought I was Winnie Mandela -- before the soccer team. You hear me Bubba.
"
I heard her alright. I heard a women on a mission, a women of steely determination, who knew the righteousness of her cause, and was not going to let anybody dissuade her. Oh yes, Lord, Somayah was different.
I remember her first visit to to the original "cannabis club" out in Santa Monica in 1995, "I am gettin' me one of these" . . . . and her Birthday party that same year, when she served us Ginj-a-juana tea and her and her friends taught us white-boys some of the old Black Panther songs, "Johnnie get your gun, get you gun, get your gun, piggy's on the run, on the run, on the run . . . .
Well we definitely weren't in Kansas anymore.
I remember three of us went. We hadn't been in Los Angeles very long, so we put on our nicest jeans and some polo shirts and a little spritz of nice cologne. I'm telling you, we were West Hollywood on parade . . .one guy Gilberet even wore white Levis and penny loafers. We were having a great time -- had us a little loop on -- from the Ginj-a-juana, when all the sudden one of musicians turns to me and says quite matter-of-factly, "we're glad you could come, but you gotta go now." Well I thought we'd done something wrong or said something inapproariate or something. He said no everything's cool, you just gotta get out of this neighborhood dressed like that, before it gets any later.
I also remember the look of utter and complete joy when she opened the box and first laid eyes on this seed squishing machine we got for her from Germany or Belgium or some such place, so she could make hemp oil for her Crescent Alliance . . . . and riding overnight on the LACRC chart
Deare
My heart
From my first
"
I heard
I remem
Well we defin
I remem
I also remem