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TAMPA - Ize Ofrika, actor, poet, and leader in the spoken word community, died Monday (May 10, 2004). He was 27.
Mr. Ofrika had lived with lupus for seven years, his father Willie Floyd Beckworth, of Tampa, said.
Lupus is a chronic inflammatory disease that causes the immune system to turn against the body. Mr. Ofrika died in his sleep at University Community Hospital from complications of the disease. He had been in and out of the hospital in the past six months, his father said.
Born Floyd Lerone Beckworth in Charleston, S.C., on March 5, 1977, he began using his pen name, Ize Ofrika, five years ago. To family and close friends, the name holds different meanings.
"He was a visionary, and it represented the visions that he had for the things of this world," Beckworth said of his son.
"My surmise is "I am Africa,' but rendered in dialect for African-American characters in older plays, "I am' is often written as "Ize.' "Ofrika' has got to be "Africa,"' said Nancy Cole, a retired theater professor at the University of South Florida who taught Mr. Ofrika.
Perhaps the name symbolized "a claim of identity," Cole said.
Mr. Ofrika's best friend, Ranney Lawrence, said "he never really explained it in detail," though Mr. Ofrika mentioned the name's association with a tribe.
Maybe Mr. Ofrika explained it himself in one of his poems when he writes, "Ize Ofrika, Humble Eyes of Africa."
His voice, as much as his pen name, will be remembered. "It just made you shiver in your bones," said Venus Jones, a Tampa actor and poet. "And it was almost like the voice of God. We don't know what the voice of God sounds like, but it was definitely close."
Jones said Mr. Ofrika appeared to be "humble and shy," but when he got on stage, "it was just like he's anointed."
The two met in 2000 as Mr. Ofrika promoted his CD, The Book of Ize, Chapter 1: The Revolution that Never Took Place. When Jones said she had no money to buy the CD, Mr. Ofrika sold it to her for $5 instead of $10.
"I knew his work before I met him," she said. "I saw him as a renaissance man and a definite presence for revolution. Sometimes he would repeat a lot of things, almost like he was trying to drill it in our heads."
In his poem No More Dreams, Mr. Ofrika writes, "No more dreams. Feed me reality by the fistful. Poison my perfect picture. Scratch my eyes out and let me feel my way to freedom. Chop me into pieces and scatter my cipher, and like the rain, I'll put up the strongest root of uprising the world has ever seen. No more dreams."
Beckworth said he realized his son's talent at a young age. A writer himself, Beckworth said he pushed for his children to excel in the use of the English language.
"He developed it into taking command of the English language, to the form of expressing himself about political and social situations," Beckworth said.
And his performances never crossed the line.
"He didn't condemn anyone," said Walter "Wally B." Jennings, of Tampa, a fellow spoken word poet who participated in Black on Black Rhyme with Mr. Ofrika. "He really possessed a love for people and for the liberation of the people."
During a Black on Black Rhyme poetry session Tuesday night at Club Classic, an open-mike poet dedicated a poem to Mr. Ofrika before a piece from Mr. Ofrika's CD was played.
Jason Campbell collaborated with Mr. Ofrika in 1998 on the CD Ale of Oils in Wine and Water: The Last Days of Innocence. They met on the USF campus in 1994.
"His philosophy on poetry was basically that you shouldn't shock for the sake of shocking," Campbell said. "But life is shocking and life is tragic. You shouldn't run away from the tragedy."
Lawrence said each time he visited Mr. Ofrika in the hospital during the past few months, he found his friend reading two books: the Bible and a biography of Marcus Garvey.
"Over the past six months, his main focus was trying to stay within the will of God, and in doing so, hoping and praying for understanding," Beckworth said.
While most people knew Mr. Ofrika for his serious side, Lawrence said he knew him as a funny man whose favorite movie was Malcolm X, but loved watching comedic actors Ben Stiller and Will Ferrell because "they just cracked him up."
"Ize had a way of saying things and then punctuating them with a look that said so much," he said.
Mr. Ofrika wanted to do more acting. He had appeared in a handful of plays while attending USF, including Ma Rainey's Black Bottom in 1999, in which he played Levee. He played Aaron in 2002 in the Jobsite Theater's Titus Andronicus. And in 2003, he portrayed Lymon in The Piano Lesson at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center.
Jennings vividly recalled Mr. Ofrika's stage presence.
"He would have this look on his face, and if you didn't know him, you'd think he was another brother with a militant edge," he said. "But he was so focused and had so much love inside of him, that will definitely be missed. We definitely lost one of Tampa's greatest soldiers."
In his poem Freedom, Mr. Ofrika writes, "It is my belief that death is a release. An ease of all tension, hiatus of all grief. Casualties are the lucky ones. Those who have passed are the fortunate ones. Theirs is a mission in life for all men to complete. Those who don't find it, shall never fall asleep."
In addition to his father, Mr. Ofrika leaves behind his mother, Lillie Beckworth, of Orlando; his brother Brian Beckworth, of Tampa; and sister Charlene Satterwhite, of Tacoma, Wash.
Funeral services for Mr. Ofrika will take place at noon Saturday at Brinson Funeral Home, 431 N Kirkman Road in Orlando.
- Kevin Graham can be reached at kgraham@sptimes.com or 813-226-3433.