“Racial Healing” follows your personal return to Benin as you confront the fractured self shaped by race, religion, memory, and diaspora in search of spiritual and psychological restoration. What made you realize that your healing had to be pursued not only psychologically or politically, but spiritually?

The more I studied dharma and Buddhist psychology and philosophy, I realized that true happiness and peace are unattainable when we attached ourselves to the past; when we romanticize victims of every ‘holocaust’ if only to eternally damn the perpetrators. This is the surest way to imprison our mind and embed ourselves in resentment, distrust and even hate. We never look in the mirror, we never ask the toughest of questions. And if we do, we omit underlying spiritual causes of phenomena. Karma we say is incontrovertible. That’s individual karma, sure, but what of collective or group karma? Benin was a slave society with stark colonial pursuits long before the European set foot there. I saw many unsettling things and learned so much through the many interviews I conducted. The Beninise people are also traumatized, not only by the Slave Trade but by their pre-colonial history. There’s much behind every genocide. After my third visit I did a lot of soul searching. Healing was slow, a process that was only complete with contemplative studies in Nepal and the integration of Buddhism and Vedanta into my work.​

How did standing in places like Ouidah and the Door of No Return change your understanding of ancestry and inherited trauma?​

We have a saying in Trinidad that our navel string (umbilical cord) is buried there, meaning that whatever part of the world you are, there is an indissoluble, palpable connection to your birthplace. Well, the Benin experience goes deeper; it was more atavistic, more weighty; it stirred the subconscious. The Door of No Return is transcendental, otherworldly. I stood there with the seemingly infinite expanse of the sea before me. It triggered so many thoughts, much of them ineffable. But surely, there were feelings of empathy, sorrow, and disbelief of man’s utter, naked cruelty.

In writing about Vodun initiation, how did you balance personal revelation with respect for sacred practices and traditions?​

Every initiatory experience is unique. The outcome is determined by the purity of one’s intention. The pursuit of knowledge, for its sake, guards against difficulties; and indeed, there have been many. A discussion on such unfortunate outcomes is best served on another platform.

The Vodun tradition, not unlike other indigenous practices is enriching. There’s much to glean from its emphasis on cosmology and nature. It requires deliberation, discernment on the part of the initiate. Short of this, there’s the risk of misunderstanding and misinterpretation. The onus is also on babalawos (priests) and Iyalorishas (priestesses) to respect the craft and demand the highest ethical standards of aspirants and initiates.

What do you hope readers who carry their own fractured histories will recognize in your journey?​

Tough questions must be asked. Spiritual insight reveals that perpetrators and victims share a karmic connection. An impartial and in-depth study of genocides throughout history raises many provocative questions. We accept individual karma; that there are consequences for our every decision and action. But why don’t we dismiss collective karma? Admittedly, this line of study can be controversial, but it is needed. Resentment, hatred and vendetta imprison and poison the mind and soul. Reconciliation through knowledge is the key to happiness. Attachment in every form is the source of all sorrows. Inner peace is not attainable through political agitation; neither is it possible through social justice movements. Inner peace frees us from every form of mental and physical enslavement, and is only realizable through the conscientious study and practice of dharma.

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