Memories submitted by friend - The Profit

"Surafel was one of those people who really believed in Africa. He more
than any person i know believed that one day Africa would have peace.
He was a person that not only thought about making the world a better
place but honestly believed he was going to contribute to this change.
He had a strong belief in his ability to influence the next generation
of Africans (on both sides of the Atlantic) to have pride in their
history and compassion for humanity. Surafel had hope for the future.."

submitted by friend - Intina

In the end, it took bullets to take him down…

I’ve read the stories a million times before--- another black man gunned by police… a few anguished yet obligatory biting of the lips, a resigned sigh, and I move on to the next story.

Except this time. This time when I read the story I bit my lips so hard that I tasted blood….

With callous casualness … with clinical distance… with abhorrent disregard for the truth, the reporter wrote that the man gunned was a Surafel Assaminew.

The Surafel Assaminew. My friend.

There is anguish. But then there is searing pain that cracks every bone in your body in deliberate slow motion.

Oh God.

He was kind most of all. There was this indefatigable spirit about him, as infectious as it was elusive. He let me read some of his words one day, and as I inhaled his words and exhaled ecstasy, his big, brown Ethiopian eyes lit up like tiny bushes of fire.

His mother’s piercing screams wake me up in the middle of the night, and just as I am about to talk myself into believing that this whole thing was just a nightmare, her screams erase my last vestige of comfort.

He was.. no, he IS a poet. He carved words into exquisite sculptures that I worshipped. He is a master wordsmith—eloquent, profound, understated, regal. He is a man, blessed with a little boy’s curiosity and wide-eyed optimism.

A long time ago, sitting on my front porch, he and I found ways to solve the world’s problems, and we toasted our feat with seltzer water and qolo.

He IS a poet—in action and in words. And it took bullets to bring him down.

They killed my friend on Tuesday, September 16, 2003. The lights went out in Georgia.

Cobb County, GA… there is blood in your concrete sidewalks. But this time, it is not just another black man you killed. You took our poet with the aid of multiple bullets… to his head… his chest…. Who knows where else.

Cobb County, Gee A… there are eyes who have seen your law enforcers take our poet away… and these are eyes who talk, and who will scream out the truth.

But what you should fear most, Cobb County, GA is the ferocious wounded Ethiopian spirit of this boy. He will haunt you, Cobb County, Gee Aye. Until you do right by him, his spirit will haunt you. Little pellets of his blood are on your leaves, on your tiniest blade of grass, all over your cracked pavements. And his blood won’t dry.

Even in death, my friend, you manage to live on.

Mothers, hide your boys? Never again!

Surafel--- from up there, watch over us. May your soul-- your beautiful, flourishing, fascinating, brilliant, awesome kind soul rest in peace.

Your friend,
-intina-

Below is material distributed during the memorial service in Atlanta. The poem to the left is about Surafel and the one at the right is written by Surafel.

Surafel Assaminew Dreams shattered life cut short who would have imagined it would be one of us. A Friend, a comforter, a visionaries, a unique man - gentle man - of a different league. A man destined to be world changer. Only if you would have known him, only if they would have known him. They won't cut the rose before it blooms Surafel Assaminew was born and raised in Addis Ababa Ethiopia. He was a son of the famous Ethiopian journalist Assaminew Gebrewold and Sosina Bekele. Surafel came to the US to fulfill his educational dream and broaden his mind. In deed, he was only once course short of graduation on a BS in electrical engineering. A born writer A learned inventor An inspirer, what a smile he had! Loved by his community Respected by his friends. Proud he was of who he is. Surafel wrote and published poems and different cultural and historical material about Ethiopia. He wrote Amharic training materials for Ethiopian children born in the US and frequently thought them Amharic and Ethiopian heritage. He has also released a CD. If only they have seen his mother weep, if only they have seen his brothers and sister cry, if only they have seen his friends shout. Would they have though twice of what they did. He won't be forgotten, his dreams won't be buried. That is a promise we should all keep! Surafel was shot and brutally murdered on Tuesday September 16, 2003 We dearly love him we dearly miss him. By An Ethiopian brother

Ethio free style By Surafel Assaminew like kitfo and kocho I got a phat flow that give you a high chlosterol but yo, I'm not guragae you can call me atse surafel assaminew gebrewold the lion of judah the light of the world In any arena I bust your style barefooted like Abebe Bikila So don't even try it cause you will fall into my trap like an ayit kid, how you gonna rock the mic you don't know the know how you versus me is like Aserat versus Goraw you're just a rookie I was writing rhymes when you were playing korkie I suggest you get up of you seat and give me a respect like shemaglae and arogit you know the name Surafel Assaminew used to smack you when you came to the hood saying turmus yalew I'm the felatch koratch you need to start from scratch cause your style got wasted like ye burtukhan litach My orchestra rocks any party with masinko,kebero, and kerar For seven years I stood on one foot like Abune Teklehaimanot and busted the wack lyrics my challengers wrote Got fans in Atlanta and debre libanos I shine dance floors as if I was bernos Just stop the tchik-tchik And I will tell you more stories than slick rick So what that mean take heed to the words that I say with style,lyrics,flow I got the power of trinity Like Haile Selassie

Diary Entry 9/19/03 by AeuMuro Gashaw

To Surafel

The first person I met when I was
finally meeting my family in Atlanta
I peaked inside the car you drove and saw
a majestically seated gentle man.
"Tadiasse." said your calm voice.And your
warm hand and cheek were extended to me.
I came to know you as my political
activist cousin.When we met you always
wanted to talk about how to change Ethiopia
and Ethiopians here.
"I mean a movement.It's got to touch
every body." you said in a whisper that
could not conceal your excitement.It was as though
the movement you were talking about had already
started inside you and was gaing the
momentum it needed to convince the rest of
us.out here.

Your rhymes are dope, clear, honest
and historically revealing.Thank you for letting me listen
to that demo tape.
Thank you for cooking me breakfast--
some very impressive eggs.
Thank you for not leaving me alone in
the living room.
Thank you for the kolo you gracefully
offered me with even more filling handfuls of
revolutionary talk.Than you for
finding me worthy to bounce ideas and lyrics,
and goals and dreams off of

I think of who you are.
caring, giving, profoundly interesting, and
relaxed Surafel.
I like your hair that way, too.The messy 'fro.
It reminded me of my hair.

I am sorry for your pain, Surafel.
The pain of the truth you know.and feel.
I am sorry Surafel for your unnecessary pain.
I am sorry for the one direction in which
the bullets travelled,
never to come out or turn around in time
I am sorry for the rage you must have felt,
your fierce undaunted spirit would not accept.

SURAFEL! you can hear me,
SURAFEL! I love you.

I am on my way to your funeral.I will
not find you as I know you.You will no longer
say, "Yekebur engeda!" and stand out of respect
to hug and kiss me, your little cousin.I will no longer jokingly
call you "Gashe." It's not funny without your eyes to meet mine.

Aye, Surafel.Surafel.Surafel.I can't believe they
shot you down..I can't believe they shot
you
down.
I can't believe that you are gone.

Your voice, fierce and forward
firmly embracing your beloved Amarigna, will
I not hear it again?
"Melect lemeset wedewuala attebelu,"
your answering machine would say.

SURAFEL

SURAFEL

I am proud to have known what little
I know of you.
I hope your life after death
is as adventurous and righteous as you
can hope your heaven to be.I love you.

We weep for our loss, not yours
yenaye gaeta.

The Surafel I know is not a gangster, thug.
He is a student, a political activist.A scholar
a professor

How dare they play with your life.

five times?

shot five times?

--AeuMuro Gashaw

For the Loving Memory of the Late Poet and Artist Surafel Assaminew

What went wrong that fateful day?
I was far away.. I got nothing to say.
What really went on their mind?
When they gunned you down.. to the ground.

Were you a bad person, a thug or criminal?
It's your poems and lyrics...leave someone with a smile.
You gave your best beyond your reach,
Never get tired to learn or teach.

Oh no!......We shade no tears.

You really touched so many hearts,
Everyone praised you...on their private thoughts.
You made us all so proud.
By being an icon out of a million crowds.
Even though you are gone in a tragic way,
The sprit will live on... until the final day.

There are no words to add... more to these,
All we could say.... may your soul rest in peace.
Till we all gone and meet up together,
The work you did will shine upon us forever.

--Cousin E

"JEGNA" submitted by Jorga Mesfin

I offer my sincere condolence to Surafel's family.

A year ago, Surafel and I met to discuss his musical dreams. He stood in my studio and shared with me his Amharic rap lyrics on righteousness, honesty and the transformation of his community, his country and his world. While I listened to him flow, I was amazed at the courage it took for him to write so honestly about all that he saw around him. He spared no one in his critique of corruption, dishonesty, stealing, and hypocrisy. I was left humbled by his courage. Surafel is a revolutionary of the highest regard, and it is my greatest honor to have had the chance to create music with him! In his tragic passing, he has taught me that a "coward dies a thousand deaths, while the brave die but once!"

-- Jorga Mesfin

from Walta
It's Monday morning and I just opened the email regarding Surafel's candlelight ceremony going down in 2 days. I read all of the heart-pouring comments about memories and thoughts of our habesha brother. Although his spirit lives on, I am still in slight denial that his physical being no longer roams this Earth. Could these TWO men that took his life TRULY believe, with ALL their beings, that they took necessary action that fateful morning?!?

Come on now!...Let's get real!!!

From what I gather:

(1 MAN + 4x4 wooden block) + (2 cops + pepper spray + 5 bullets) = Unjust KILLING

Wow...The facts speak for themselves and the shame of it all is appalling.

You just want to forget the pain sometimes, but the community has been rocked. It's too late.

I will never forget running into you last at Hartsfield airport. Surafel...man, you are so sweet and steady on the music grind. God Bless your mother and siblings! Please watch over us and say hi to my father.

Rest in Peace,
Walta Tewolde Gerezghier

"Even if fate colors your life--you can choose the color."~~Unknown Author

To post your memories and stories of Surafel contact us at friends@surafel.com