Prison Radio
Mumia Abu-Jamal

Her name was Bariki Hall Shabazz, but I knew her as “Maestra,” my music teacher. Her community knew her as “Sister Bariki” or “Mama Bariki,” a Black woman who, as the old saying goes, was truly Black on both sides. She lived her Blackness by joining and supporting a wealth of Black organizations. She was a self-described “foot soldier” at the now-famous National Black Political Convention in Gary, Indiana. She also supported the Congress of African People, the Republic of New Africa, the Black Radical Congress N’COBRA, and the annual Congressional Black Caucus. She lived her Blackness by singing and playing organs at her local church and as a performer with the Mary Caldwell Dawson Pittsburgh chapter of the National Association of Negro musicians where she sang as a soprano soloist. Sister Bariki loved music and performed on the stage as a profession and shared with me the story of wondering if this work helped free our people. When she found it didn’t, she left the stage. Bariki lived her blackness by loving Black people. In October 2023, she was honored for her long-term support for the Functional Literary Ministry of Haiti, which provides education, literacy training, health care, and trade skills for Haiti’s people. As a child, she spent extensive time with her grandparents, who shared stories and memories of their captivity on the R. J. Reynolds plantation in North Carolina. She learned as a child what it meant to be Black in America. She was a teenager when the world learned about the brutal torture and murder of Emmett Till, the child from Chicago who went to Money, Mississippi and was allegedly slain for whistling at a white woman. These events made Sister Bariki a woman of strong will, determination, and deep compassion for the struggles of Black people. Her friend, Martha Conley, introduced us, and after a discussion of music, she offered her musical services when I said I regretted not being able to read music. So for the next few years, Sister Bariki was my musical maestra, who brought flash cards and musical scores, and coached me on the Do-Re-Mi scale. She made music make sense to me. I am forever indebted to my teacher, my maestra, Sister Bariki. Sister Bariki Hall Shabazz lived her blackness by raising a family of loving, conscious, Black children, most of whom attended and graduated from historically Black colleges and universities. She is survived by her loving family –Dr. John R. Diggs Jr. M.D., Khadija Tamu Diggs Esquire, Malaika E. Hall, and Dalili T. Hall. She has three granddaughters — Kimaya Diggs, Makeda Diggs, and Savita Diggs. In her own words, Sister Bariki said, “If anyone should ever think of me, do so in the attitude of my having been a long-time, dedicated foot soldier in the Army of the Lord. On September 22, 2024, Sister Bariki Hall Shabazz, after 90 summers, transitioned to the embrace of her ancestors, where celestial music is played by the stars.
With love, not fear, this is Mumia Abu-Jamal.
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.