The creatures know. The wind knows. The land knows…. It is time. A black panther appears on the mountain peak, gracefully it leaps from rock to rock, descending toward the valley floor. With one final leap, as her feet leave the cliff edge, airborne she becomes black smoke and lands no longer as a panther but instead a strong African woman. Rokia’s bare feet land hard onto the grass, thumping her beat into the earth. She approaches a bush that is growing in the middle of the grassy valley floor and with one breath she ignites the lone plant in flames.

A black crystal hangs from her neck, which she unties and removes. She has been wearing it for years as it has absorbed her energy and character, becoming an extension of her celestial body. As she holds it, the crystal shakes slightly, soft vibrations in time with a faint rhythm. The crystal whispers Rokia’s beat, which has become imbedded in its dimensions. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, long breath. She opens her eyelids revealing a burning orange glow reflected by the fire, which she stares at fixedly for moments before throwing the necklace into it. Instantly that faint beat that the crystal whispered is amplified and black smoke begins to rise from this sacred fire.

Three men thunder down the mountain on horse back as if appearing from no where. With each hoof’s thud, dust bursts from and trails behind the dusty troupe as they ride at speed toward the sacred fire on the valley floor. Without the horses slowing, the men dismount with ease and perfect balance and their steed continue to gallop off into the mountain range. The fire’s glow illuminates the dusty bodies of these three cowboy as they approach and stand before it. However the shadows that their hats cast upon their face defies the laws of light and keeps faces hidden in darkness. Each of them in unison, turn out their pockets, emptying a handful of sand into each of their palms. The sand rhythmically pulsates, and whispers the troupe’s beat, reciting their story. They reach out and pour the sand over the fire and once again the whispering beat is amplified, joining in time with the beat of Rokia, as a sandy smoke rises.

Like a snake charmers flute, the sacred fire guides the paths of many toward her. One by one they arrive, each carrying with them their own unique beat to add to the vibration. The mountain top becomes painted with many different colorful characters, who have gathered for this summer jam ritual. ”