For Mother’s
Day, I want to dedicate this special story to all of the American mothers of
African descent. This story is your story; the experiences are universal. We
can’t forget the incredible strength and resiliency of our enslaved
foremothers. It is upon their shoulders that we stand.
Louisa “Lue” Bobo Danner
Jan. 21, 1842 – July 5,
1921
On
June 16, 1898, sitting in a lawyer’s office in Batesville, Mississippi, with
her son Alfred by her side, my great-great-grandmother, Lue Bobo Danner, gave
the following testimony as she persevered to get a Civil War widow’s pension
from the federal government. Rejected two times, this once enslaved, strong-willed, "mulatto" woman, who worked in the "big house," who was my maternal grandmother’s maternal grandmother,
was determined to get what she felt was entitled to her.
Grandma
Lue stated confidently, “I claim pension
as the widow of Edward Danner who served as a soldier in Company I 59 U.S. Volunteer
Infantry . . . He died on a Saturday between midnight and morning about the
15th of September twenty one yrs ago last September. It will be twenty-two yrs. this coming Sept .
. . I have had eight children by said Edward Danner, all of them are living . .
. They have had all the ages of my children set down in the Bible but it got
destroyed and the little Bible I have now got some of the ages in it. I had no doctor when they were born. My
mother Clarissa Bobo was the midwife and is dead.”
After
reading that last sentence, my first emotion was that of sheer excitement. Grandma
Lue’s deposition identified my great-great-great-grandmother – my mother’s
mother’s mother’s mother’s mother. My second emotion was of me feeling hugely blessed
to find out through documentation that she was a midwife who delivered her grandchildren,
including my great-grandmother, Mary Danner Davis (1867-1932). Grandma Clarissa
had delivered the next generation with her bare hands.
Born
into slavery c. 1823 in Laurens County, South Carolina on David Boyce’s farm, Grandma
Clarissa became the midwife on the Bobo farm. African-American midwifery was deeply
rooted in West Africa; African women transplanted their extensive knowledge of
birthing, as well as medicinal botanical roots, into American society. In many African cultures, one woman is
commonly known as the midwife of the village. Perhaps Grandma Clarissa learned
her techniques from her mother, Matilda, or her maternal grandmother Jenny, who
was of Fulani ancestry maternally and was born around 1765 in Virginia. Grandma
Jenny was also enslaved on David Boyce’s farm. Interestingly, Fulani girls throughout
West Africa are taught at an early age that it is shameful to show any fear of childbirth
(source).
Clarissa took her unique skills with her when David Boyce gave her and others to
his son-in-law and daughter, Dr. William & Margaret Boyce Bobo, who settled
in nearby Cross Keys in Union County.
With
a multitude of other unearthed historical facts, I closed my eyes and imagined what
could have occurred on that sunny Saturday on May 15, 1858, the day 16-year-old
Grandma Lue, who had long, black hair that reached the floor, gave birth to her
first child.
This
is that mental picture.
As
Grandma Lue walks slowly towards the dinner table to serve Dr. Bobo and his Saturday
guests, she drops the contents in her hand on the floor, without caring at all
that the broken dishes may anger Ms. Margaret. A contraction hit her like a
bolt of lightning.
“Oh
my! I think my baby is coming!” Grandma Lue expresses, holding her stomach and
feeling water trickling down her legs.
Hearing
the sounds of breaking dishes crashing against the floor, Margaret Bobo rushes
in and shouts loudly, “Gal, did you just break my expensive dishes we had
imported in from Europe?”
“I’m
sorry, Ms. Margaret. I believe my baby is coming! My water just broke,” exclaims
Grandma Lue.
Margaret
responds uncaringly, “Well, Hannah can clean this up. Go on over to your Momma’s
cabin. Hannah and Sallie can finish serving our hungry guests.”
One
of the Saturday guests, Elijah Wilbourn, quietly observes from the dinner
table. He owned and operated a small plantation nearby. However, quick stops to Grandma Clarissa’s cabin on his friend Dr. Bobo's plantation, away from his wife, resulted in the
conception of her first two children, Grandma Lue and her brother, Eli. Not
surprising, his nonchalance displayed his non-recognition of his arriving grandchild.
Pacing in pain towards her mother’s cabin, Grandma Lue prays incessantly, “Lawd, please don’t let me lose my first-born child! Please don’t let me lose my baby!”
Pacing in pain towards her mother’s cabin, Grandma Lue prays incessantly, “Lawd, please don’t let me lose my first-born child! Please don’t let me lose my baby!”
Her
mother sees her, runs to her aid and grabs her arm hard, and helps her back to
her cabin. Uncle Eli and their brother Uncle Giles rush over to assist Grandma
Lue over to their mother’s birthing sanctuary in her cabin, a hard wooden
table.
“Jenny,
run and go get your Aunt Caroline,” Grandma Clarissa instructs her daughter. Aunt
Caroline is Clarissa’s sister.
She
continues to yell additional orders, “Eli, take your sisters and brothers outta
here now and make sure you feed Palina! George, go tell Massa to send word over
to Mack that his baby is coming. Make haste now!” George is Clarissa’s husband.
Mack
Ray is a 24-year-old farmhand enslaved on the plantation of Rev.
Thomas Ray, a Baptist clergyman and Dr. William Bobo’s neighbor. Mack and
Grandma Lue had been allowed to jump the broom months earlier, a marriage
custom often associated with a Ghana, West Africa tradition of waving broom
sticks above the heads of newlyweds and their parents. Rev. Ray permitted Mack’s
many visits to his young, strong-willed wife.
With
her sister Caroline’s assistance, 35-year-old Grandma Clarissa proceeds to do
what she does so well – deliver babies. However, this birth was special – very special.
She was delivering her first grandchild.
After
several hours of labor, a baby boy enters the world, as Mack Ray sits outside
the cabin door waiting patiently for the birth of his first child. The infant
boy was named James Robert, who was
called Jim.
Ten
months later near Como, Mississippi, Grandma Lue’s water breaks for a second
time on Tuesday morning, March 29, 1859. Her second baby is coming. They had
recently arrived in Mississippi six months ago. Dr. William Bobo decided to
sell his South Carolina farm and move to Panola County to be near other family
who had been in Mississippi for several years.
Grandma
Clarissa delivers her second grandchild into the world, another healthy infant
boy.
Exhausted
and wet with sweat from the delivery, Grandma Lue says, barely audible, “Let me
hold my baby.”
She
further expresses, with tears flowing down her face, “He is so beautiful. My
heart breaks so bad that Mack ain’t here to see him. We gotta endure so many
hardships as slaves. Breaking up families ain’t right and just plain mean! Oh,
Mack!”
Grandma
Clarissa nods affirmatively, as her eyes begin to water. She manages to respond
lovingly, “I know, baby. I know. But we can’t let it break us. We was built to
last. Freedom is a comin’. I sho believe dat!”
A
brief silence follows. Then, Grandma Clarissa asks, “Whatcha gonna name this
beautiful boy?”
“Imma
name him Mack. He will neva lay eyes
on his Daddy but at least he will have his name,” says Grandma Lue, smiling
down at her new baby boy.
Unfortunately, before Dr. Bobo, his family, and slaves packed up and left South Carolina, Rev. Thomas Ray, who considered himself a Christian, didn’t feel it was necessary to sell one of his valuable young male slaves so that a family would not be separated. Grandma Lue never saw Mack Ray again.
However,
little did she know at the time that Dr. William Bobo would go back to Cross
Keys, South Carolina later that year to handle some business and return to Mississippi
with a 27-year-old, dark-skinned, regal-looking, 5 ft. 8 in. tall, brave man
named Edward he purchased from Nancy Bates Danner, the widow of Thomas Danner
Jr., before she and her adult sons moved to Grant County, Arkansas.
Edward
and Lue fell in love. Dr. Bobo permitted a jump-the-broom marriage ceremony in
front of the big house for them on Christmas Day, 1860. The slave minister on
the plantation, named Squire Bobo, married them. Edward also claimed fatherless
Jim and Mack as his own, and they took his surname. He and Grandma Lue together
would have eight more children. Grandma Clarissa was there front and center for
every birth.
On
Wednesday, August 26, 1863, third child, Alfred
Danner, was born.
On
Thursday, June 15, 1865, fourth child, Alexander
K. Danner, was born.
On
Tuesday, November 12, 1867, fifth child, Mary
Danner, was born. Mary was my great-grandmother and Grandma Clarissa’s
first granddaughter. Mary was also the first to be born free.
On
Friday, May 14, 1869, sixth child, Frances
Danner, was born.
On
Saturday, June 10, 1871, seventh child, Laura
Danner, was born.
On
Tuesday, May 13, 1873, eighth child, Martha
“Mattie” Ella Danner, was born.
On
Friday, July 16, 1875, ninth child, Phillip
Isaiah Moseley Danner, was born. He was named after a Como, Mississippi
school teacher.
On
Wednesday, November 15, 1876, tenth and last child, Edward Danner Jr., was born. His father had recently died on
September 15, 1876, exactly two months before his birth, from stomach ailments
he contracted from fighting with the Union Army in the Civil War.
The Danner Daughters: Mary, Frances, Laura, and Mattie
As
a man, I can’t even begin to imagine how painful natural childbirth must be,
yet Grandma Lue endured it ten times, with Grandma Clarissa at the foot of the birthing
table. Infant mortality rates among enslaved women were very high, but Grandma
Lue didn’t lose a single child. I’d like to think that her mother, having the
power of being the midwife, played a major role in that. All of Grandma Lue’s ten
children lived to adulthood, married, and had families of their own, giving her
67 grandchildren, including my maternal grandmother Minnie, before she passed
away at the age of 79 on July 5, 1921. What a mighty great gift Grandma
Clarissa Bobo gave to her daughter! Happy Mother’s Day!