Deep Roots, Strong Trees Make Great History
Vivian and James Washington, my grandparents as newlyweds. I also found this picture by accident. I cherish it because they inspired me to seek out opportunities and taught me I was exceptional. It’s interesting, as a child I remember them always donating to charities that supported Africa. Now, I know that they were aware of their African roots, even if it wasn’t always apparent at first glance. While studying the family tree, I’ve found plantation homes that were the foundation of those roots. I feel like it’s my grandparents prodding me along to be proud of those roots.
(Article first published in DUNIA print magazine, Summer 2018 Edition)
It’s much easier to believe that history belongs to posterity as a no-nonsense chronological record. However, I’d like you to consider that history is just fingertips away when you take a moment to examine your own personal experiences.
I believe we are modern history and those who came before us laid the groundwork for our successes. Consider this, the world was changed by a few inventions, the wheel, the compass, the automobile, the steam engine, concrete, railways and the airplane. These modern miracles made history and continue to inspire. Not because they were great as individual items, but instead they could be manipulated, paired and fixed to make life easier and better for the greater good of the world. I always try to remember that good ideas are meant to catch on and motivate others. That’s why I share these thoughts. Now, taking it a step further, these inventions were built by genius minds who were also likely mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, lovers and friends. They also lived in communities just like we do today. Had it not been for utility, mention, recognition and adaption to daily use, each item, ingenious or not, may have gone unnoticed and deemed insignificant or obsolete.
It was curiosity and human interest that kept the simple equipment and systems for transportation alive. Likewise, our everyday genius must not go unrecognized. We can document our lives and keep our own history checked for the youth and future generations. We must document and tell our story.
Pictured above are Vivian Gaston, my mother (L-rear), Kitty Green, S.C. tour operator (center), and Ada Anahgo Brown (R) of Roots to Glory Tours – specializing in providing tour opportunities for DNA-tested African Americans to their countries of origin.
Talk about history, I toured Beaufort, St. Helena, Charleston and Savanna, Ga., recently with Roots to Glory Tours. My sister-friend, Ada Anagho Brown, the founder, once again surrounded me with women of exceptional character and intellect.
“When I went into the archives looking for history on the Gullah people, I read so much misinformation; it was buuu—lll crap,” said our tour guide, describing the challenges involved in studies of a people who were so isolated from the rest of the world during slavery. I learned that there were plantations run by slaves going for long-months without the presence of a master or overseer.
“To get the history, you have to go to the mouths of the people, the elders, and you know you’ve got history when enough of them say the same thing. Then, you know it’s true.”
“The beauty of the moment is in the way the elders’ eyes light up as they reflect on the events of the past,” she said.
Griots aka Storytellers
I hate titles, but here’s one I can accept. We, the artists, writers, musicians, scholars and students on the journey through the low-lands are all griots, or story tellers.
In West Africa, a griot could be a singer, musician or oral historian. They keep the record of births, deaths, marriages and tell the generational story of the village or family.
I didn’t know it then, but I’m convinced now. We each are on our own journey. The low-country and the influence of the amazing scholars and teachers that shared the regional stories and history just gave us fodder for new works.
Kitty Green of Gullah’N’Geechie Tours in Beaufort S.C., introduced the tour group to the traditions of the Low country and the importance of the praise house, which served as the spiritual center of the African community.
The tour guide hoped to enlighten us, but also to renew our spirit.
“You get a feel for who we are as a people, and you realize the pride within yourself when you think about the things they [the ancestors] could do, the gifts they had, and what they sowed to the world,” she said.
All powerful stuff! When my ancestors called, they weren’t selective. They were noisy and restless, they left me in a heap at Ghana’s El Mina [the Slave Castle]. It was nothing as graceful as a heap of tears, instead I fell down five stone stairs on my head. It was as if someone pulled the ground out from under me as I left the rest room. It was memorable. The spirit shook me, and when I lifted myself from the floor, I was never the same.
I’m a griot for sure, writer, dancer, speaker… all that and more. The messages won’t stop coming. They opened the coffer full-throttle and spilled out the good, bad and ugly. Now, it’s my task to sort it all out.
Why does this matter?
Well, I tell myself that I’m doing it for my grandchildren. I don’t want them to be confused as I was about all the blue-eyed green eyed folks in the photographs.
I’m certain I’ll be able to provide the truth and dare them to be great because there’s a whole lot of goodness in my family.
It’s in the DNA!
Since I’m 40 percent European and 60 percent African, unraveling my family tree is a painstaking task. It’s tedious and interesting, and I will never finish. Someone will have to take over one day, but the stories are worth it. In case you haven’t read the previous installments in DUNIA, I have an African name. I’m called Chisom, which is pronounced Chee-some. In my Igbo culture, it means literally that ‘God follows me’, and alludes to my drive and charisma.
When I returned from South Carolina, the ancestors left me a gem, which led me to take action. I called the Historical Society and left a message. It was almost three-weeks before I got a call back. Honestly, I’d almost forgotten about it.
When I answered the call, after my brief introduction, I explained to the president of the Madison County Historical Society that I wanted to learn more about my family.
“Who is your family?” asked the gentleman on the other end of the phone.
“Dan Washington was my grandfather,” I said. “I called because I found a book and saw photos of some of my relatives,” I added.
There was a brief silence then the phone line came alive.
“I know Dan Washington,” he said.
I was speechless and surprised. He was animated and obviously very excited to share.
“Dan Washington moved the colored-school, behind the colored church, and then bought a bus to carry the children back-and-fourth.”
“You come from good family, a hard-working family,” he said.
I was so proud. I’d struck gold and realized that I only needed to ask the questions. Sometimes we miss out because we’re afraid to take the step, share the intention or to just ask the question. I’m still beaming as I think about it.
Dan Washington. His father had been enslaved, but my grandfather, Dan Washington (1891-1965) was an entrepreneur and successful businessman. I found this photo tucked away in a stack of keepsakes after the death of my grandparents. This was my first introduction to his image. He died before I was born. The confidence and gait of this man reminded me that I was a queen.
I’m the beneficiary of artifacts that share the family story, but I’m certain the stories are not just for me. Those treasures exist for us all to enjoy. We just need to be willing to seek the connections, capture the details, write and tell stories knowing that we can inspire others through the experience.
I suspect if you’re reading this article you are also on your own journey. If enough of us take the time to document our tangled journey toward the future, we may shape our world and correct a few ills of the past, at least for the history books.
Every now and then, I find a gem or two tucked away in a drawer in my grandfather’s house. Sometimes it’s a loose photo or a book or two with little-known facts and details of my ancestry. Those finds are inspiration packed away in less visited parts of the house. I dare you to revisit them, and to find your own inspiration. Just when I think I’ve hit the limits, the memorabilia move me a step or two forward. I’m certain those memories might have a similar effect on you.
Photos of my ancestors, their names, their vintage images and records provide me details and information that ensure their contributions aren’t lost to the next generation. When items thought long-gone appear when I least expect it. I believe the ancestors conspire, and provide the history. Seems it might be important as a tool for a more diverse and inclusive mankind. If not, it doesn’t hurt anybody and makes me feel great.
Crude at first, each revolutionary tool was refined, modernized and upgraded, why not us? Especially, since humans are known to change direction and can change their minds. That’s what make us human.
Knowing where I come from means I’m not afraid to carry that community-focused, hard-working ethic, which were core beliefs set by my fore-parents. Now, you can call me daughter, sister, and friend and know that I’m fixed and not stirred; I have a better understanding of my responsibilities as a member of my family. The contributions I make are greater than myself and my character is strengthened and rooted by the sacrifice of others who led the way and suffered so I could be great.
Community bonds and the sense of togetherness may have taken some hits over the years. The invention of planes, trains and automobiles means people move around and families are divided and separated by distance. But, when your roots are deep, the tree stands firm weathering the storm and rain.
I believe knowing our history can keep us planted and strong. Again, just look to your fingertips and pick up the pen. You can begin capturing your family’s journey, growth and migration today.
- Read | DUNIA Print Mag – Summer 2018 Edition
- Order | Print Magazine containing this article
Denver Beaulieu-Hains is a writer, speaker and public relations professional with more than 20 years of experience working as a spokesperson, media consultant and planner for the Department of Defense and the federal government. She is a survivor of both sexual abuse and domestic violence. As a writer, she is thoughtful, honest and direct. At times the raw emotions of her experiences leap off the page. Beaulieu-Hains has a Master of Science in Administration with an emphasis on organizational development and leadership, and a Bachelor of Arts in Speech Communications and Journalism. Beaulieu-Hains is a native of the Washington D.C. metropolitan area and has three adult children.
