Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Some Semblance of “Home”

     Unfortunately, many African Americans continue to debate over the use of the term “African American” or Black.  I’ve heard some folk say thoughtlessly, “I’ve never been to Africa, so I’m not African American”, as if all people in America who proudly claim to be Asian have been to Asia (or Russian to Russia, European to Europe, etc.).  We, descendants of enslaved Africans who were disembarked on American shores, are culturally European for the most part because of how America was shaped.  The continuity of African social and cultural patterns was greatly discouraged, demeaned, and outlawed.  However, in-depth genealogy research brought to light for me that our enslaved ancestors did not fully allow western society to annihilate all aspects of their rich African heritages.  I am very proud of this fact, hence my personal embracement of the term “African American”.

     Remnants of Africa are very evident in our music, the expressive way we worship in church, in our dances, in our arts, in our foods, etc.  In the last chapter of Mississippi to Africa: A Journey of Discovery, which I entitled “Bridging the Gap Between America and West Africa”, I detailed how my own ancestors retained aspects of their African culture.  Many things were not lucid at first glance, but a deeper analysis revealed Africanisms in my family that had been inconspicuous for many years. You will have to read the book to see how these remarkable cultural features were uncovered through genealogy research.

     Nevertheless, for this blog post, I want to briefly show four examples of how names and naming patterns exposed undeniable links to West Africa in my family. Many folk who trace African-American families will undoubtedly encounter some or all of the same instances. 


Some family members were named after a notable profession, a high position, or a famous person.  Lawyer, President, Prince, George Washington, Doctor Rogers, Judge, Queen, Colonel, King, etc. were all first names that I encountered in my family trees.  One of my maternal grandmother’s brothers was named Frederick Douglas Davis.

African Cultural Element:  Many African children, especially in Ghanaian cultures, were often named for prominent individuals.  More specifically, a belief of the Akan people of Ghana is that to be named after a distinguished person invests the child with the responsibility to emulate the character of the individual whose name he/she bears. 


Some family members were named after days of the week or even a holiday.  I’m not kidding!  I have family members who bore the first names Easter, Tuesday, and Thursday.  Even in Zora Neale Hurston’s The Sanctified Church, she introduces readers to the extraordinary character, Uncle Monday. 

African Cultural Element:  In many West African cultures, many children were given names that reflected the day, month or season, and even the holiday for when they were born.  Even in the Akan culture of Ghana, many children were given “day names.”  The day of the week on which a child was born determined what name the child was given.  For example, Kwasi is a day name given to a male child who was born on a Sunday.  If I had been born in Ghana, this probably would have been my first name since I was born on Sunday, August 6, just a few years ago.  Abena is the name given to a female child born on a Tuesday.  Each day of the week has a specific female and male name.


In my research, I’ve encountered many households in which my ancestors had not named their infant children, even though the children’s ages were noted in the census records as 2 months, 4 months, or even 11 months. Terms like “not named” or “unnamed” were recorded. 

African Cultural Element:  Delayed naming was very common in a number of African cultures.  A child is not considered a person until he/she has been named, and a name is not given to a child until the parents are confident that the child will survive.  Our African ancestors resided in communities in West Africa where high infant mortality rates were common.  Consequently, their delayed naming beliefs were transplanted into communities in America where high infant mortality rates also prevailed during and after slavery.  Several slave narratives verify this cultural transmission.


In six generations of my mother’s maternal grandmother’s family, many females were given the name Annie.  The frequency was so high that my head would often spin trying to figure out which Annie belonged to whom.  Imagine my surprise when, after over a decade, I traced that family branch back to a great-great-great-great-great-grandmother who was named Anika (born c. 1760). The name was recorded as “Anakah” in Captain John Turner’s 1807 will (Fairfield County, S.C.) and is pronounced “Annie – Kah”. It can be traced back to Africa, which represented another cultural link to West Africa.  Annie was undoubtedly the Americanized version of the name Anika.  Additionally, the names of Anika’s children were also passed down in the family for several generations.  I was quite amazed at how my ancestors had ingeniously recorded their family history by the names that they gave to their children. 

African Cultural Element:  In his book The Black Family in Slavery and Freedom, 1750-1925, historian Herbert Gutman asserted that naming children for blood kin hinted that enslaved people incorporated elements of the traditional lineal orientation of their West African forebears into their new belief systems in America (pp. 197-198).  Many African cultures, like the Igbo people of Nigeria and the Fulani people of West Africa, carry a tradition of naming children after deceased relatives.  Many African Americans are direct descendants of the Igbo and Fulani peoples, as well as many other ethnic groups. 


     Although inconspicuous, names and naming patterns can clearly show that enslaved Africans in America inculcated in their children some aspects of their West African cultures which prevailed down through the generations.  American culture did not entirely annihilate West African customs.  Unquestionably, our ancestors desired to retain some semblance of “home”, which is why I have no problem whatsoever referring to myself as an “African-American”. (Side note: this blog post is not meant to start another debate over the usage of African American vs. Black. Comments regarding your position on this debate will be subject to deletion. This post was meant to expound on African retentions and genealogy.)

During the Penn Center Heritage Day Festival Parade, St. Helena Island, South Carolina, flags of the West African nations where many of the ancestors of the Gullah people hailed from were displayed.  The Gullah and Geechee people of coastal South Carolina and Georgia descend primarily from African captives taken from the rice-growing region of West Africa, as well as the Angola-Congo region of West-Central Africa.  African retentions among the Gullah/Geechee people were the strongest than anywhere else in America. Africans were able to preserve their culture because of the sea islands' isolation from the mainland.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Those Small Brick Churches Deep in the Country

     Whenever I give genealogy presentations and workshops, or whenever I personally advise someone on tracing their family history, I always recommend that people visit the churches where their ancestors were members.  In many cases, these churches are rural ones with adjacent cemeteries.  One may find in those cemeteries a wealth of information and clues – names, dates, etc. from the tombstones of known and unknown ancestors.  Additionally, I often recommend that they take time to attend church service there one Sunday and talk to the people.  Chances are, some of them are relatives and may have a wealth of information to share about certain ancestors. 

     This research tip reminds me of those Sundays my parents and my paternal grandparents would make their annual trips to their hometown churches.  My mother’s home church was Beulah Baptist Church, located deep in the country, eight miles east of Como, Mississippi (Panola County).  My paternal grandparents’ home church was Harmony Baptist Church in Lena, Mississippi (Leake County).  Harmony was just a 45-minute drive from my hometown of Canton, but Beulah was a longer trip – a 2-hour drive from Canton.  My mother was born and raised in Tate County (Senatobia), and the Tate/Panola County line was the southern boundary of her father and grandfather’s land.  Although Beulah (pronounced ‘Bu-low’ by family members) was in another county, their church was just a stone’s throw away from their house. 

Beulah Baptist Church, Como, Mississippi

     Our annual trips to Beulah were always on the third Sunday in May, and our annual trips to Harmony were always on the third Sunday in August.  Both Sundays were called “Homecoming Day”, an event that my grandparents rarely missed while they were still in good health.  Because we didn’t have family in my hometown, and I didn’t have the privilege of growing up with lots of kin around, I always looked forward to those trips – which meant the world to me.  I had possessed a natural curiosity about my family history since the ninth grade, so I don’t think my family realized until much later just how much those annual trips positively affected my life.  In essence, those trips established where my family roots sprouted, and there was no doubt that my roots ran very deep.

     At Beulah, a small brick church that probably held a maximum of 100 people, presumably 90% of the people who attended Homecoming Day from far and near were related to Mom. Many were even related to her on her mother’s side and her father’s side – double kin.  And it was very obvious!  Looking at their faces was like looking at my mother and her siblings.  Also, I enjoyed my mother’s display of great happiness when she returned “home”.  Home never left her heart.  As long as I remain in my right mind, I will always carry very fond memories of those family elders (all of them are now deceased) who I only saw once a year. 

Harmony Baptist Church, Lena, Mississippi
(Picture courtesy of Richard Mack. Additions have been made since my grandparents’ death in 1990.)

     Memories of going to Harmony annually with my paternal grandparents included several times when my loving yet ostentatious grandmother would force me to get up and sing a solo, while my sister LaVonda played the piano. Grandma never forewarned us of her intentions.  Like Beulah, many of the people there at Harmony were our relatives – even the snow cone man, Cousin James Ferrell, who made the most scrumptious snow cones from the back of his truck.  It was a treat after spending hours in church listening to two or three sermons.  Correction: Maybe the word “hearing” is more accurate than “listening to”.  There’s a difference, and I was young (LOL). Those Homecoming Day services were quite lengthy.  If someone wasn’t Grandma’s niece or nephew, he/she was her cousin.  However, that didn’t stop my match-making Grandma who seemed to forget that fact.  Another favorite memory included the following incident:

     As I exited the church with Grandma, she spotted a young girl standing outside and who appeared to be around my age. I was around 15 at the time.

     Pointing at the girl, Grandma instructed, “Baby, come here. What is your name, baby?  You are such a pretty girl.”

     With a smile, the girl shared her name.

     Grandma commented, “Well, baby, I want you to meet my grandson here. His name is Jimell (my middle name).  You and him may be around the same age. How old are you, baby?”

     The girl’s mother suddenly approached.  Excited, she interrupted, “Hey Cut’n Willie! How you doing? I'm so glad to see you!  This here is my daughter.”  Note: Cut’n” is the southern slang for “cousin”.

     Grandma remarked coolly, “Oh, is that so?”

     Imagine the stoic look on Grandma’s face when she discovered that she just tried to match-make me with a cousin! 

     I will never forget that experience and many more at those small brick churches deep in the country – a significant part of our history and once major pillars of our communities.

Beulah Baptist Church Cemetery, Como, MS
Most of the people buried here are Mom’s family members, including her parents and her paternal and maternal grandparents.

The William “Bill” Reed & Sarah Partee Reed Monument in Beulah Cemetery
My mother’s paternal grandparents
In 2004, the Reed Family raised $4,700 to purchase this 7-feet tall monument for their grave-site.