This is the story of a young girl who lived between 2 tribes; each of the tribes wanted to claim her as their own. The tribe’s members always fought for their daughters. One day, the heart of the daughter stopped; the tribe members stood above their dead daughter in shock, and they started to cry as they wept the heart of the little daughter come to life. They stood in front of the miracle of life, and from that day, they promised they would serve her heart as it belonged to the whole world.
They initiated her and called her Mamoyo, “daughter of the heart”. They told her and others the story of the miracle of a dying and living heart. For 07 years, each time that the story of Mamoyo was shared with her by the tribe, her heart beat even stronger, connecting her even more to the land, to her roots and reminding her of the lightness of her heart. Stay light, be the light, they said.
As the girl came to puberty, the tribe leaders agreed that it was time for my Momoya to experience and bring her medicine to the bigger world so it could remember what was missing.
Momoyo was summoned by her elder, promising a better world. She was reminded that as she walked into the new world, she must never forget her medicine, as the demons would also meet her.
Overtaken by the sadness of her broken heart, she was reminded not to close her heart to her tears.
Mamoyo left her tribe and ventured into the new world; with an open heart and brighter eyes, she welcomed the new; curious and light, she met her new world. As months and years passed, Mamoyo’s heart weakened as it met the wounding of the disconnected world, confused and weighted. Her heart gave up, and it died.
As she asked why I could no longer hear my heart, she was told that she had the disease of the mind that eats you alive. Only she knew that this was not true. Mamoyo cried to the vision of her tribe. She felt the tears of the weeping tribe for a dying heart. She stood before the people of the new world and said this is the disease of the disconnected heart. I need to weep my dying heart.
Mamoyo heard her tribe calling her back and reminding her of her medicine. As she heard the sound of their voices, she travelled to the centre of her tribe.
She stood in the circle, holding her shame on one hand and her dying heart on the other. She bowed and said, the burden of the new world is too heavy for my soul to carry; It crushed my soul and taken the lightness out of my heart. Mamoyo continues sharing the new world’s stories, asking her tribe to remind her of who she is—daughter of the heart, daughter of the beating heart.
The tribe gathered around her and told her the story she had forgotten; as Mamoyo listened to the sounds of the words, slowly and gentling reviving the dying parts, Mamoyo’s heart chambers began to soften and touch the moisture and hear its own rhythm.
As time passed, the tribe said, Mamoyo, you have returned to us with a bigger heart. Mamoyo danced to the joy and the rhythm of her newly found heart and said I am now ready to be the Daughter of the Heart.
As her tribe sent her off to the new world, one elder shouted; Mamoyo; Don’t forget to move to the beat of your heart. As she nodded, another tribe elder shouted: Mamoyo, Don’t forget to sing to the beat of your heart. As she agreed, another elder shouted, Don’t forget to tell the stories of connected hearts, and most importantly, don’t forget to still your fearful heart.
