My Journey Home to the Motherland
An African American’s Quest to find her Identity
By Sherry Lyons-Amos
What does it mean to be African American? I have always pondered this. I have always wondered who I was. I have always known what America, more clearly, White America told me. The undertones of racism, inferiority, and poverty said it was not good to be African American. I was soon to take a journey to discover who I was. There are no coincidences. This was orchestrated by God as a part of a journey to healing for myself and to impart healing to others as I discover my identity and become congruent with myself as both an African and an American.
In January 2007, I made my first trip to Nigeria. This proved to be a major turning point in my life. It originally started with a missionary couple I met some years ago at a prayer conference. The man had a fatherly demeanor and spoke in a quiet, natural tone. There was some part of me that reached out to him like a father. I admired the African attire that he wore and there was something regal in how he and his wife carried themselves. Years later this man, Reverend Mosy Madugba, would become a spiritual father to me. This was my first connection back to my homeland.
Five years later, he came back to Melbourne, Florida and invited a group from our church to Nigeria. When he talked about his homeland, I began to visualize going there and connecting to my roots. He told us stories of missions trips and things they did back home in Africa. I was sold hook, line, and sinker! I was going to Africa!
We started with a group of 10-15 people that were going to Nigeria. By the end of December all had dropped out except me. I was asked to reconsider going by the ministry group because they thought it was not safe for a woman to go alone, but I had visions of Africa in my head and I knew it was “my season” to go and visit the continent.
On the morning of my departure, it seemed as if circumstances were working against me. When I arrived at the airport, my Delta flight to New York was canceled. I was highly upset because I knew that I needed to make my flight from New York to Lagos. After much prayer and talking to airlines, I was given a refund by Delta and was put on a Jet Blue flight to New York. I went through customs with no problem and was off to Nigeria.
The plane was full of Nigerians going home to visit. Ironically, I was seated next to a Nigerian man who lived in the same city as me only a few blocks away. He was going home to visit his family. I asked him a lot of questions about the country and its customs and was able to get a lot of information. After 11 hours, we landed in Lagos and began to clear customs.
I was tired, hot and cranky. I was not properly dressed for the heat as I had worn a sweat suit to keep warm in New York. While waiting for my luggage, I was being harassed by the young guys at the airport who wanted to give me their phone numbers to give to the single sisters in the U.S. That was a rough experience! I finally retrieved my luggage, met my escort, and was off to exchange currency. My escort took my money inside a building to exchange it and brought back the Nigerian currency. We were ready to go.
A Different Experience
I was then taken to the airport to catch a Nigerian flight to a city closer to River state (Port Harcourt). The flight was short, nice, and uneventful. When I got off the plane, another set of people met me and packed me into a car and I was off on a 3-hour drive to River state (Port Harcourt). The car was very hot, with no air conditioning. I began to sweat and get nauseous from the heat. After numerous checkpoints and stops by roadside soldiers, some of which were pretty intimidating, we finally reached our destination.
I was very sweaty and uncomfortable and just wanted to go to my hotel room and take a shower. They told me no, that I was supposed to go and meet my host first at his office. This was the custom and it would be considered rude if I didn’t do it. Reluctantly, and because I had no choice in the matter, we were off to the office. The first words that my host and spiritual father said to me were “Welcome Home Sherry!” Was this truly my home?
I was given such a warm welcome by my host who was very happy to see me. I was introduced to the whole office staff and then taken out to eat by some of the younger staff members. I started feeling much better after eating. Then it was off to my hotel room where I was finally able to shower and go to sleep.
The next week was pretty busy with the Ministry services both day and night. There were over 2,000 from different nations gathered in the building and worshiping God with such passion and humility. A lot of these people slept on the floor of the building for a whole week. This would not happen in America, too much pride to sleep on the floor just to go to a conference! We would consider ourselves above that and would have to have a hotel room! Speaking of hotel room, I was taken along with others from the ministry group from a regular hotel to a very upscale hotel called La Presidential. For the services, I put on my dance attire and danced with flags and the people welcomed the dancing. They still refer to me as the dancing lady from the U.S.
Caught between Two Worlds
We had a wonderful time at the meetings and I met many warm and gracious people. I met people who were governors and senators who were high up in government. This was so foreign to me to see black people on all the signs as leaders such as presidents, senators, governors, etc. It was not like this back in the U.S!
There were black people (Africans) that were very wealthy and many that were very poor. There were children begging in the streets in front of the wealthy hotel. I began to try to process all the things that I saw. After the services were over, we went to a village to meet a king and were invited to the house. I admired the way the people served the king (chief) and took pictures of the event.
After this, I began to get homesick and suffered from culture shock. I was viewing everything I saw from an American point of view, through my American lenses. As I was trying to process my experiences, I began to have an emotional experience similar to a meltdown. I spent two whole days alone in my hotel room and began to ask myself: “Who am I? These are my people. A lot of them are in poverty. What happened to us as a people? Why were the Europeans able take most of the continent’s wealth and colonize the black people? Why were my ancestors sold into slavery and as a result, lost their language and their culture?” I spent two days alone thinking about this and processing my experiences. These were my people but the culture wasn’t mine. I was an American by culture but an African by lineage. I was caught between two cultures and needed to find my identity.
When I left the country, I was never the same. A piece of my soul merged with Africa and remained there! I began to view my church family, friends, and my experiences through a broader lens, not just from an American point of view. I thought about Africa every day and longed to go back. I had left a piece of my soul there and realized that the key to my healing, my identity was there in the Motherland, the cradle of my birth! My host had prophetically spoken to me when I had arrived and said “Welcome Home.”
A Journey of Healing
I wanted to go back the next year and the year after that but the opportunity never arose. Three years later, in 2010, I got the opportunity to go back. I was on a journey of healing and finding my identity. A month before I was to go, I discovered Africanancestry.com and began to read about people who had discovered their African heritage. I had to do this before I went! I took the maternal test and a brother of mine did the paternal test.
My paternal results came back a week before I went to Africa. On this trip I was going to Ghana first, and then to Nigeria. I wondered if I had any connection to either place. I had always felt a connection to Nigerians and have quite a few Nigerian friends that I had hosted in my home. When my paternal results came back, they showed that I had a paternal genetic ancestry from the Ibo people of Nigeria and the Ewondo people of Cameroon. Wow, the test was well worth the investment! This explains my connections and friendships with the Nigerians and the Cameroonians as well as my spiritual connection to Nigeria!
My maternal genetic ancestry came during my visit to Nigeria. I am descended from the Balanta and Fula people of Guinea-Bissau, the Mende people of Sierra Leone, and the Mandinka people of Senegal. Wow, what a mix of people on my mother’s side! I was elated when I got the results! So many countries that I still have to visit that are a part of my ancestry! My identity was coming together!
On this trip, I visited Ghana for the first time, visiting the Prayer Mountains and touring the Cape Coast Slave Forts. Visiting the slave forts was a great experience as well as an emotional one. I was able to look out over the Atlantic Ocean and visualize my ancestors being put in those boats and sailing to the Americas. I felt like another piece of the puzzle to my identity had been put in place. I was becoming congruent with myself and who I am as an African American as well as an African.
I then visited Nigeria again, this time going to a ministry in Kafanchan, which is in Northern Nigeria. In both countries, they greeted me with open arms and treated me like royalty. I was taken care of very well. My clothes were done, my meals were cooked, and I was taken everywhere I wanted to go. I could get used to this!
While in Nigeria for the second time, I was able to view the people and culture through different lenses this time, not just from an American point of view. This allowed me to easily integrate with the people and culture. I really enjoyed getting out into the town and experiencing real culture! I am still not accustomed to the food. My host warned me about the pepper. The Nigerians put pepper in most things. They seem to have cast iron stomachs that can handle hot pepper! My host made sure that they did not put pepper in my food. Thank God for that!
As I was on the plane flying back from Africa, I pondered a lot of things. There are no coincidences. My trip to Africa in 2007, finding out my African ancestry, going back to Africa in 2010, and visiting the Cape Coast slave Forts. These were all a part of the path that God laid out for me to go back to my roots and find my identity. This has been essential for healing the wounds of slavery and becoming congruent with me as a person who is both an American and an African. I can truly say that I have merged the two parts of myself, the African and the American part and can say with conviction that I know the true meaning of what it means to be an “African American!”
(Article first published in DUNIA print Magazine, 2nd Issue – Nov – Feb 2011)
