Zeen Square 2

TRIBE
winter solstice zeen 2020

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note from mocho house
Divine Ancestral Blessings!
In light of all that unfolded in 2020, and the energy and vibrations of this time, we felt
that we needed to mark the Solstice, The Great Conjunction and the closing of 2020,
and the beginning of 2021.
In a different time and space we would have gathered, in person, with Loved Ones. We
would have been pouring libation, playing drums, eating food, and creating together.
Given that it wasn’t safe to do so, we invited some of Our Beloved Community to virtually
gather with us…and it was beautiful!
We came together to share space with the intention of writing...a Virtual Writer’s Room
that flowed from the verandah to the kitchen to the backyard and the red ochre steps.
We wrote intentionally on the theme of Tribe...creating pieces of art as part of a body of
work that calls to mind the importance of Home, Tribe and Village. We connected across
time zones, space, difference...we gave voice to memory, language to connection and
word to intention. We wrote as Tribe...in Love and Ancestral Vibrations that rooted us in
rich soil.
These offerings have been brought together here.
Welcome to the Mocho House Zeen: Winter Solstice 2020.
The beauty of Tribe in the context of this Zeen is the call to be seen...nourished...
encouraged by Voices that tremor with an Ancestral richness strikingly familiar and
invitingly dissimilar all in the same breath. We laughed and wept...scribed, shared,
spirits embracing til We slept...Hearts full and Souls charged.
This is Tribe
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ISBN: 978-1-8384030-0-3
© Mocho House Limited 2020
86 - 90 Paul St, Shoreditch, London EC2A 4NE
Artists have retained the rights to their individual poems and images they provided. All
other images, including on page 32 belong to Mocho House.
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contents
tribe charmz 6
tribe is... curmiah lisette 9
tribe of_soul 11
high-and-mighty weight tifany sahili 13
tribe sienna essence 15
at the root of our roots rochelle mcfee 17
ugly duckling rara 18
divine branches miss yankey 21
even in isolation renee mahrun 23
tribal marks asante jenkins 25
tribe diane simpson 27
yah suh nice lee rose 28
tribe nate the lyricist 31
tribe glamara66 32
tribe jonesy 35
tribalcosm soloman the wizard 36
one day ikamara 39
tribes spiral seeker 40
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tribe / charmz
Somewhere, we are already finished.
Someplace, we are the tale told
upon tongue, a mouth turned faucet spilling ourselves onto awaiting drum
But in this moment
We are all pages...
Returning,
Travelling back from bindings
Unshelving our chapters
Folded top creases
Marking our favourite pieces of one another
My Brother, My Lover, my Sister Soul
Saddle stitching
Deftly Picking through orations of I , my tribe, are a Literary lineage of love lines,
A community of calligraphy crafting purpose from ancestral pathways praying our
paragraphs keep us close enough to the light our ascendants will look to in season of
learning, our reason for serving.
Backs hardened with the weight of words but our works are eternal, and our spirits connect
a collection of text that mean we are all parts of the same universal genesis, meeting at the
precipice of language and lore
Grateful for lifetimes & laugh lines
And the riches of a love worth writing for.
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tribe is...
/ curmiah lisette
A home of choice without choosing
where souls tie without knotting in
toxic traits, where energy levitates
and bush and mud and pulse is healing.
We seek safe space, shed skin, strip tears,
cascade streams that mirror floods
where wata wash spirit clean and carry we
ancestors across seven seas
We time travel through being,
and sleep is a dream but so is living.
We build homes with honour codes
and communal conceiving, rebirths
where underwear get wash by hand
and someting always ah boil inna di pan;
Where bellies roll like fires burn and
laughter quakes like earthing feet
to nature’s rhythm.
We are thirsty tongues,
gulping satisfaction
to the beat of the djembé drum.
Tribe is home
Èk mwen toujou vlé alé lakay*
*And I always want to go home
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tribe / of_soul
The I am You, The You are I, The I are We, the
We are TRIBE?
What is this thing called TRIBE? This idea,
this word, this reclaim, this unsure, this
feeling, the vybration, this complicated
entity, this body, whose bodies? this recapture,
the water, this movement in my
back, this thorn, this embrace, so many
lands, the whispers on my face, the majik,
the unknown, space only for others who
speak in certain ways
The black satin bed in which the stars lay, or
something like gravity of which we are not
meant to see, is it the fragments of planet
rolling with the moon and all occupants in
its wake?
Is it imaginary places to reside, or hide or
set aside for when...?
When we wan’ dem? when we recall dem?
when we heal in dem? seek solace in dem?
when we know dem, when?
This coming home, the separate, the alone,
the retreat and the calling, calling to place.
What is this thing, this mmmm called Tribe?
Confusing, together, un-belonging apart,
love’s inner circle with bones, belly and
heart. Capricious turning into dreams
unspoken, passions created, multi-verses
awoken, and in-between the sluggish
consciousness and sleep, there is tribe to
birth, there is tribe to meet...to know a new
and return…..
The generations of we making, of now, tiny
feet and wise souls, their Tribe was inscribed
with their Spirit-calls many moons ago
Tribe, song, beat, call, cry, scream ...inhale
hmmm….exhale, aaaahhh. bah pum bah
pum… spirit force, heart, blood, skin, bone
To sit and dwell in a known and unknown
To forge a mark, our touchstone, so is this
home?
To be recognised, fly free and kiss the
clouds and share breath and liquid with the
ancient ones.
Wine’ing and swirling body to beat, the tribe
of my mind, the tribe of my feet…
Spirit, connection, elements, and grounding
collide, this thing, this thing, mmmmm do I
know? do you ? do we? do they know TRIBE?
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high-and-mighty
weight / tifany sahili
Entity, identity comes with envy and jealousy.
I wonder if those outside of our unity ever feel this empty,
outnumbered by the minority and fulfilled by our normality
My loyalty runs deeper than the caves my ancestry once
formed their unity or the huts that once welcomed the pre
kings and queens that formulated my urgent energy. This
creative DNA that runs through my bloodstream today and
made me find the words to conjugate this visual play, isn’t
coincidental.
My descendants travelled through seas, died on their
knees and others found themselves warriors to Sahara’s.
Unknown to their journeys in this life I wonder if they are the
ones who assist in the writing of my destiny?
My footprints feel guided... my feet, grounded ... ever so
close but so far to a me that runs more true than the naked
eye can see.
I end here, with a story barely started and destiny currently
clouded, regardless, to walk on land with a pride only
those that came before me can relate to is a power I long
to feel and understand as I carry their legacy. Adding to
this current growing tree with branches that will rebirth,
renovate and recreate new reasons for more envy and
jealousy.
High-and-Mighty Weight
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tribe / sienna
essence
The feeling of safeness helps me to be
Lifts me up and lets me feel free
I don’t know why but, I feel like I can see
A bit better and clearer
My tribe brings me nearer
To my destination.
As I struggle with my inner demons
And my desires to always help and please
them... Randoms
That are not even in my circle
Back to my tribe I speed like I’m in a vehicle.
They lift me up and allow me to be
Who I am not just what they see
Or which side I show today at 3
Because of them I can always be me
I can be because they accept me
I can be me because they love me
I love being me because they challenge me
To be a better me
Even when I’m not strong
My tribe, my love and my life force
I know I can lean on them even if the time’s
wrong.
But it works both ways
Whenever times get gloomy
There’ll be better days
Got to say your thank yous, meditate,
be grateful and pray.
wanna operate on an ancestral plane
Vibrating higher
Have a home filled with joy, love and
laughter.
Create new relationships that won’t die or
wither.
As I stroll lazily back to my village
Watch butterflies flitter around the foliage
Listen to the leaves rustle
Feel the wind blowing through my hair
As I hear
My tribe singing and dancing Without a
care
There’s no tribe without unity
I thank the universe for this community.
Now I stroll by the river bank
I dip my toe in and take my time.
I continue to stroll to my safe space
With tears on my cheeks and a smile on my
face.
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at the root of our
roots
/ rochelle mcfee
We wander and then plod toward practices
of wholeness, grounded by the roots that
spring forth from the restless remains of our
ancestors.
We are watered by kinfolk not just skin folk
who see ourselves always in relation.
We are parties, not a bacchanal, not
the partisan shit. Our movements are
disruption, ultimate destruction, with
cyclones collecting air/ear of ethical
philosophies, socio-economic ideologies
that take account of all of us.
We create together, not driven by celebrity,
rethinking relationships with self and plant
allies.
Esteeming life and rebirth and justice we get
together constructing this map: a place that
calls you to sit in ceremony with amethyst
crystals and fruit. We recommend Epsom
salt and tea tree and honey, incense as
necessarily part of this journey.
Even as we narrate the ills and the chills
overcoming our body - the warmth of
words like “I love you” ... “I see you” produce
alchemy. Magical transformation is what
we do with the rosehips, ginger and sage,
clearing our throats to allow our voice to be
heard in this here sacred space.
But my tribe understands quiet isn’t stasis,
the violence of silence but also how it is
productive:
Shadow self
Divine darkness
We emerge sattvic. Emerge with a plan, for
the healing of ourselves for the preservation
of our lands.
We emerge...
still with vulnerability but willingness
and capacity to trust - what we offer
up energetically, build collectively, do
creatively, think critically, write deliberately
and speak without apology.
My tribe is fearless, seeing me in the
irrational, the illogical; I am not the white
man’s version of sane.
See me in my pieces, holding myself
together through this pain.
See me in my sacrifice, knowing they have
tried hard to empty our stock.
See me in hybridity even as I affirm that I
am Black. See me in my hybridity even as I
affirm that I am Black.
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ugly duckling
/ rara
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There was a time,
before I found motherly love on a stage,
when family interactions were a death
sentence I had to
leave myself at the door for.
Friendships were burials. Every attempt
at any form of relationship
was another way to sink.
My ancestors have a history of not knowing
how to swim. I
prefer drowning in my own sorrow.
I’ve given my own eulogy,
carried my own coffin,
sunk shovel into soil so much so,
morning became parallel with mourning.
I ask you heed this warning – I
have a tendency to piss off the people who
please me
just to take the pressure off.
Posture like the working-class,
muscle memory remembers
becoming the joke at the dinning-table I
resented eating from.
Laughter crowned me guilt,
joy brought a mob and love...
love bled me sacrificial.
When
rarely behaving royally ruins the family
name
how heavy is
the head that bows in shame?
When I leave the throne abruptly, display not
concern.
I’ve sailed to sea,

see leaving as a right of passage. Doubted
that if I
wrote this passage, I’d find a passage.
I’ve learnt
that not everything can be translated.
You will be left tongue in cheek
when spoken out of who you are.
Maybe it’s the price of being British. The
mispronunciation of my native tongue.
Before the cold was home
Before winter was a reminder that
everything is dead but me
Before I learnt to shed anew
I was a village kid,
from a country with, a thousand hills
vibrant with life. Both before and after
the blood.
I knew not of the narrative
before they settled there.
When they settled there
neighbouring tribes lost their ear for
harmony.
Amongst the scribed absence of festivities
wishful thinking will wield weapons against
even the militant.
Envy found my inner child. She grew green
amidst a field of thorns and weeds.
Could only speak with a vernacular absent
of peace. Freedom
it seems, does not equate to safety. So to
play it safe
we keep self safely stashed away.
Guess what happens when you try crack the
combination.
I’ll crack a combination. I’m either trying to
save you from myself
Or keep protected.
I often feel crowded when alone
alone when in a crowd.
I want to apologise for being missings in
your presence.
Severing all ties
Thinking they will anchor me
I want to be wanted but
will
reject your acceptance.
Do you know how many minutes I’ve spent
Being busy second guessing all the
affection I’m getting.
I know pain so well
I must conclude
Something afoot when it makes a
nonappearance.
I feel like nothing but an imposter here
I know not this land or its customs,
No matter how hard I try to
mind my manners
I still spend my free time asking for
forgiveness
I know i come from community
but unlearning is a tedious chore.
Back bending, bone breaking, bruise
bulletin.
Self sabotage is still a knee jerk reaction.
I know now
to not run from home.
I hope now
to make proud my lineage.
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20

divine branches / miss yankey
I planted a forest of honest thoughts
and they grew into sentient beings.
They welcomed the descendents of lost
civilisations.
Sheltering Crystal seedlings under cosmic
canopies they were all knowing, and all
seeing.
The forest floor was adorned with shattered
stars.
Tribal kin with battle scars.
Heavenly capillaries,
Sacred vessels.
Tribal tessellations.
Formulas once forsaken taken
back through the eye of Nubia’s needle.
Come pree and see my quill spill celestial
prequels and sequels in equal measure.
My cup runneth over like the clover carpets
that cloak the roots of these ancient Oaks.
The age of Aquarius arrives.
We align in the 5th via the 3rd,
Indigos re-birthed Crystal Rainbows.
Purple prisms precipitate royal reign,
though seedlings formed of cosmic dust
must too fall like rain;
Regardless, energies remain.
Planets with multiple suns become points
that pin me to divine branches.
I watch the leaves leave as autumn leads us
into the cold again.
See sons of old glimpse glints of change like
flints that spark in darkened caves.
It’s what happens when amazing is amazed
by it’s amazement.
I give thanks for the infinite abundance that
thunders through this village.
We are the storm after the calm.
Taps open like estuaries, tides meet
streams and the water of the bearer flows.
Timelines implode, codes crack like
shattered glass, the shards of the future and
the past fly past.
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even in isolation
/ renee mahrun
i am an island
my tribe lives within me
in my vessels, in my bones,
in other familiar places unknown
thicker than blood and deeper
than marrow
you are here because i've called
for you
and i am here to answer your call.
i am because you are
and i see you as i am
your eyes are my mirror
you carry my face in yours
i see myself in you
you are a chosen one, my chosen
one
but chosen by who?
could it be divined?
was it written in the stars?
those same stars the dot up the
black night sky?
it's funny how
i can't quite see the tip of my
elbow
but i know it's there
right...there, always on point
right there for me to lean on
ancestral flesh
skin folk
like the melanated jaguar
hidden in the shadows of the
night
watching my back
my tribe moves with stealth and
grace. unseen
at all times protected and safe, at
ease
journeying through the darkness
of the shadows
effortlessly holding us all together
through portals and wormholes
we move as one.
i’m learning that the mystical
motion
of the waters
that ebb and flow at my feet
is ancestral wisdom,
my birthright
and just as the day dawns
just as the sun casts its first light
i remember that while i might be
an island
i never walk alone
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tribal marks / asante jenkins
The Sound of Music is therapy to a broken soul broken tiles in the house with broken doors
the books with the dust collected shelves to handle our issues we lay on the seabed of
empty promises. It created a beach where there is land but no hope, where we sell &
exchange souls instead of our shoes hopeless fools. Our only peace are the songs of the so
full of passion and purpose and pain nothing to lose and nothing to gain,
need I say more?
so I say more to keep you entertained the energy of love is hidden in the eyes of the stars
scars that carres the skin of warriors returning from war ridden lands where love is an
untold myth Music completes our in complete
He completes his mission by obtaining from their hidden desires
Still a myth?
Imagine being blind in the woods and finding the truth of sight within the breath of the trees
each breath more calming than the last each breath creates...
harmonies within the symphony of our souls my troubles stem from much more than fear
though I did fear
but now I am.
A house full of broken tiles and broken hearts whilst you’re looking through the peephole
everyone inside of celebrating ululating enjoying the richness of our majestic history
forgive me for not forgetting
for getting caught up in it all I was up in the eye of the storm spearheading to my dreams
when our weapons or one’s tools to survive then to protect but who am I to tell you how are
used to be?
Who am I to tell you about a place born inside of me?
when will I feel as connected to a Akebulan like I used to be?
I guess I’ll just wear these tribal marks.
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tribe
/ diane simpson
What does Tribe mean?
I feel lost and disconnected at times.
I feel a longing to belong.
And as I sat and asked myself “what does
tribe mean”?
The word protection kept coming up to me.
We as a people are ONE we are also very
complexed. And although there are many
divisions and fragmentations, when our
back is against the wall, and our lives, our
childrens’ lives, and their childrens’ lives are
at stake... We come together as a mighty
unstoppable, impenetrable force. When that
happens we begin to remember who we be...
When we do remember such beauty love
strength, power, support and peace comes
from us to us...to nourish us
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yah suh
nice
/ lee rose
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Gimi heart
Gimi soul
Feed mi water outa
calabash bowl
Far a far wi deh come
A near wi deh guh
Mek way
Mek room
Fimi rest mi ears
Rest weary bones
Shoot camera off drones
I tired of the gasping for
breath
Dem spin wi inna outcast
net
Tief all wi air
Clouded by fear
Blowing army web roun wi
head
Lef wi fi dead
But here we stand
Pulling home together any
weh wi lan
Continent
Coast
Island to island
Wi tan up firm
Inna black style and patan
What a bam bam
Now you tell me
Who di bastard be
The mother or di baby
Out a di bath wata
Stop di search far pupa and
muma
Hold mi
Hold wi
Remove mongrel garments
Mek more room eena mi
spiritual apartment
And shut down all policing
From “pedigree”
Here we di prodigal diety
Cyah burry holy inna
cemetery
Know royalty
When yuh si wi
Si and blind
Hear and deaf
Far in death we still woke
Dripping in finesse
Of the finest brass and
beads
Spreading in womb the
chosen seeds
Birthing never limited to
class or creed
We dat breed
Di rude boi and gyal
Down a Manuel Road
Di Ras-I child
Nah bruk nuh more rock
stone
But wi resting
Rejoycing
Eat til belly bus
Laughing is di only space wi
groan
Here we no longer mourn
Far di sun warm
And ackee deh open
Wi tan up proud
Firm
Tall like di breadfruit tree
dem
Supple as the rivers
Wi cruise into sea
See wi yah
Wi been deh come
Knock pan
Mek niose
Celebrate
Far Celebration be di only
ting lef
Yah suh adi best
Yaad sweet sweet
Wi blood same same
Wi of di highest acclaim
Ring wi and meet the black
berry juice
Wah come outa yous
Come outa we too
Ain’t nothing hanging here
Nothing but a welcome
home sign
Kisses rooted in truth
Reminders affirming
I ain’t no strange fruit
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tribe / nate the lyricist
I don’t have a tribe, I have a soul family; spirits that connect
with mine from another point in time. Resonance thicker than
blood we vibrate at the same rate, on a frequency so sweet
time and space can’t help but girate. My family, we’re built
different. Cut from a cloth you don’t oft come across, we’re
sewn together so it would seam. Relationships that span
lifetimes we build nations over generations, connected by a
love that requires no interpretation. I have relatives, I have
friends and both play their role, but none take the place of the
family of my soul.
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tribe / glamara66
My tribe was known before conception
From the universe I was gifted
My tribe to guide, to listen and nurture me.
The heart beats to a rhythm
Familiar yet unknown, like the breath of
anticipation.
The tribe beats and calls me home.
My tribe is not familial
That knowledge makes me proud
That I was chosen
Members are still growing, becoming, being,
seen, heard
I may be a stranger to some in my tribe
Yet we are linked by destiny.
My tribe is unconditional
My tribe is rooted in the earth
The sea, the air and the stars.
My tribe rises like the beat of the drum
The calling from those in need
My tribe rises
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Tribe beats
Tribe beats
My aching heart
My eyes see
My ears hear
Tribe beats
Tribe beats
The drum to call me home
Tribe beats
The drum the rhythm of home
The calling
The welcoming
The warm embrace
Tribe beats
To call me home
Tribe beats Tribe drums
Calling me home
The ancestors cry
‘You are ok!’
Tribe beats Tribe drums
Calling me home
Invited to the table of the tribe to feast
Tribe beats Tribe drums
You are home
Safe in the collective bosom
Tribe beats Tribe drums
You are home
Where is your momma?
The people they shout
Tribe beats Tribe drums
Calling me home
Where is your father?
The people they shout
Tribe beats Tribe drums
Calling me home
The ancestors cry
‘They are ok’
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tribe / jonesy
I feel the heat of the fire against my face,
it is life or death depending on where you
stand.
Born of stolen land with the name of a
foreign man who took from me what he
lacked from his beginnings.
Their plan was to hope I forget but my scars
aren’t on the surface, they will always bleed
internally.
My tears run dry and I hear the echoes of
why we weren’t meant to be here.
But you see me right?
One choice has changed the face of our
fate but I can’t contemplate when they say,
that it was written to be this way.
alchemist.
I fight and I fight but no battle can be won
by one.
I grow in your shadow.
I feel the heat of the fire against my face.
I stand with my kin from a time past.
They feel my joy and hope, my pain and
sorrow.
They thirst for freedom, for those who came
before were never found ashore because
their life was for more than grieving.
I feel the heat of the fire against my face,
it is life or death depending on where we
stand.
If your freedom laid in fire would you burn to
be free?
I feel the heat of the fire against my face,
it is life or death depending on where I
stand.
I fight for our journey to not define us.
For my children to see me for who I am,
to heal from my scars as I heal from my
mothers and those before her.
I fight for some words to never be spoken,
like a forgotten curse from a spent
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tribalcosm / soloman the wizard
My tribe exists at the epicentre of universal
transmigration...
echolocation using ancestral vibrations to
translocate from three dimensional bodies
to the next...
utterances infused with dark matter to
manifest a nation of the liberated...
a quest both local and global...
travelling on a road full of so-called
befrienders...
with...
noble pretences...
their...
so cruel intentions...
they hope to prevent us from...
aligning Soul Fam...
trusting Our own clan...
finding Our flow and...
finding Our rhythm...
too long We've fought a system that can't
think in two steps...
move left...
who's right...?
can't trust two sides of the same binary
coinage...
I'm finding it pointless to speak in a currency
that continues to lose its worth...
what is the point of being heard by those
who pay You no mind
its absurd to remind of the value of Life
when We...
are the Gold they fight for...
measure their wealth by...
silent is the cry of those who have lost sight
of their own riches...
lost the will to fulfil their home vision...
in this space We witness the inception of a
tribal mission...
deeply rooted in resistance and liberation...
the emancipation of Our Skinfolk...
a declaration that to live bold is to gift hope
to the next generation...
a legacy of revolutionary vibrations
tremoring through time and space to quake
and level babylonian constructs till not a
single pebble remains...
tidal waves of aqueous flames cleanse the
stains of colonial governance...
Our Children once more entering a
covenant with Mama Earth...
from the dirt to the skies praising life in all
seasons....
the air filled with a natural mystic...
triumphantly blowing with freedom.
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37

38

one day / ikamara
Cherish, belonging, freedom, design, 3, me and mine.
One day, unconstrained,
one day, break through,
one day, flow free,
one day, quenched.
I know, I know, I know, we will grow, have we not shown you
for over 400 years, indivisible, mighty, resilient, undeterred
by your craft, I know, I know, I know you’re afraid that if this is
who we are, bellies empty, scattered, wounded, who can we
be on 100%.
Aren’t we glorious?
Look at us.
Building one another,
love flowing,
nourishing, nurturing,
embracing, how vibrant
we are, ethereal,
how beautiful, how abundantly and infinitely creative we are,
how transformative we are,
how magical and powerful
we are.
39

tribes
/ spiral seeker
to be inified... is not to be in a state of
perpetual agreement...
for although we are one, we are not one...
we are the many ones that exist in the
complex, fractured
40
one-ness
of
us

tribe, in evolution, and revolution, can
simultaneously bring forth connection and
fragmentation…
and in my truth, tribe is far away from the
illusion of utopian perfection…
especially a utopia which has been [re]
defined by kinfolk and skin-folk who engage
in their-storical
revision
to justify the exclusion of those of us who
are deemed “aberration”
my tribes are many…
i belong to the un-lost tribes of all that we
are and can be…
memory pieces conceived in ancestor
wisdom and sacrifice...caressed with
courageous imaginings and kissed with fire
of rebellion
tribes birthed along complicated, messy
bloodlines and written into existence
through black-majik spells and loverhymes
tribes gathered in worship through joy-full,
careless all-night limes and strategically
joined together on psychic battlegrounds
during wartimes
tribes that in hard times are known to
traverse painful fault-lines and ego land
mines
in the ecstatic disorder
that is
us
my tribes are
village circles where i am made whole and
most easily broken
architecture where if i am not careful
a careless whisper can be anxiety-shaped
in my mind as a scream...or worse rescaffolded
in their mind as treacherous
misdemeanour
my tribes are
kitchen tables where my tears can flow into
belly laughs and re-form themselves in
spirit vapours
poured back as rum into soil and drummed
back into life... skin-on-skin
my tribes are streets where even when we
are fragmented and afraid we call ourselves
into revolution...in service to our collective
liberation...
my tribes are riddim and verse
dub-plate and bassline
righteous waistline and tile an’ wallpaper
an’ bamboo lawn
my tribes are cosmos...pluriverses with
moons and suns joined by portals...whole
blackholes...and black holds...
my tribe…my tribes...word-drum-heartbeat-bone-flesh-us...all...us
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ISBN: 978-1-8384030-0-3
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