For most of the activist world she was Goldie, a rapper and activist whose sweet voice could strike like bricks when she crafted a rap or sang a song. To us she was Sammy, short for Samia, a brilliant, sparkling young woman who never ceased to surprise us. She was many things: daughter, mother, student, activist, artist, orator, rapper, graduate, and more. To us, she was the baby, the youngest, and as such, she had a special shine. It’s a funny thing to a parent, a child is always a child, even when they are no longer a child. In the mind’s eye, they are still a child behind the face and form of an adult.
For the last three or four years, Samia was quite ill, bone cancer that spread throughout her body. For years, she had pain in her back, but she bowled through it, thinking it would heal itself. In 2011 she finally went in for examination and found what no one expected to find: cancer. She did what she always did, she fought for life, despite diagnosis. In fact, she was in her hospital bed, finishing up her psychology studies, forcing herself to graduate with a master’s degree. Her entire graduating class saluted her will to prevail. She fought for years against the invasion of cancer, the wretched chemotherapies, and wrenching pain. Still, she fought. What strength this little woman had. A song came to me again of her as a child.
(Singing) As long as I believe, I remember this scene.
Your little fists banging like hammer.
Banging on the glass, slam it, almost crash, tears falling like rain.
Little one, oh, my little one, how could I ever forget that day you shouted
“Break it! Break it!”
It rang like a bell all day.
It’s been a lifetime since your banging with your fist,
And you’re not a little girl anymore.
You shouted “Break it!” You shouted “Break it!”
How could I ever forget that day?
You shouted “Break it!” You shouted “Break it!”
It rings like a bell every day.
I know it’s been a lifetime ago.
You’re not a baby anymore, but as long as I breathe,
I remember this scene:
Your little fists banging like hammer.
Banging on the glass, slam it almost crash, tears are falling like rain.
Little one, oh, my little one. How could I ever forget that day you shouted
“Break it! Break it!”
It rings like a bell all day. It rings like a bell all day.
So, Mia and I never finished this song. As she breathed her last, she was sitting on her mother’s lap, just as she did as a child, no longer a child, yes, but a child again. Samia Abdullah’s song has ended, but like the sweetest music, it remains with us, repeating rhythms and refrains. She remains with us echoing in our souls. She is a song we will sing forever. From in prison nation, this is Mumia Abu-Jamal.
These commentaries are recorded by Noel Hanrahan of Prison Radio,
