Showing posts with label Ancestors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ancestors. Show all posts

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Up in the Heavens, Down on the Earth

Drive through the blighted section of any city and you will find an MLK Avenue, Drive or Street; in these same communities there is invariably a school, rec center or housing project named after hazily recalled historical figures like Phyllis Wheatley, Crispus Attucks, Frederick Douglass, Mary McCloud Bethune, Ida B. Wells, George Washington Carver and Benjamin Banneker. Funny how history can immortalize a name but dispose of details that made these individuals shine during his or her lifetime. The simplified biographies of Banneker and Carver tell that one was an almanac writer, the dude who laid out the plans for Washington, D.C. and that the other was the an Uncle Tom who could work wonders with the humble ground nut. What else is there to know? A lot.


My accidental intrest in Banneker and Carver came from essays and biographies of black women authors from the United States. Remembered conversations with my friend and visual artist/poet/philosopher/curator Kevin Sipp . This, in turn, linked to my interest in food and nutrition, intercultural relationships, as well as the present green and technological revolutions (that have some common but many conflicting goals) are some of what has made me curious about the these scientists, neither of whom had children but both of whom were fruitful in terms of their creative output.

Though born during the U.S. colonial era, the reach of Banneker's imagination was saved from the near-sightedness often inflicted upon and that afflicted many of the enslaved. In large part this was probably true because Banneker was born free to free-born parents. His was of a materially stable landowning family and partly descended from a British grandmother named Molly (Walsh) Bannaky . Molly Bannaky not only taught her grandchild the fundamentals of literacy but may also have been responsible for passing along the cultural wisdom of her deceased Dogon husband to their mixed race family. Banneker knew how to play the flute and violin and would grow to become a farmer, mathematician, writer, land surveyor, astronomer and social reform advocate with each interest flowing freely into the next. (For more on the Banneker history see this review and synopsis of Charles Cerami’s well researched Banneker biography. For more on the Dogon people's relationship to astronomy, see Sacred Sites of the World website.)

Carver was born in the Midwest many years after Banneker under less privileged circumstances. He spent his childhood as a slave, and on top of this had the misfortune of becoming an orphan; both left him with a shaky sense of belonging. His owners were said to have abolitionist sympathies that ran parallel to their need to keep slaves and make a living. They were therefore open to Carver learning to do things like read, paint and make music. In later years, Caver's path would lead him to rise higher than Banneker in terms of his formal education, earning a master’s degree and going on to become a fellow of the British Royal Society for the Arts and advisor important public figures and politicians. He was botanist, chemist, teacher, writer, enviromentalist, philanthropist and devout in his religious faith. (For more on Carver, check out Gary Kremer's George Washington Carver: In His Own Words and Tonya Bolden's children's book )


All of the above is very interesting to me. But what I find most fascinating about Banneker and Carver has to do with the inclusiveness, the holistic nature of their study. Their genius arose because of the way that they seemed to connect intellectual pursuit to development of the spirit. Their minds and hearts were open enough to thread together observations and knowledge that some might be tempted to view as separate. I see them as being spiritual descendants of the multifaceted ancient scholars of the East-- anonymous indigenous sages of all continents as well as the noted Middle Eastern hakeems and European renaissance men-- who were as well versed in poetry as they might have been in mathematics, astronomy, and navigation. All of them took serious the atom as universe idea/universe as atom idea, aware that that paying attention to what is near to us (be it our own souls or what is growing in our back yards) can reveal much about those things that seem to live light years away.


If I were a canvas painter or mural maker, I might create a panorama depicting these two men. Washington’s space would be lit by the sun with him paying close attention to the life and vibrations buzzing directly under foot. Banneker would be looking up at illuminated darkness as he deciphered the poetry of the heavens, time and space. Surrounding them both might be a frame resembling the design of a traditional ketubah. Mingled into the border would be Dogon masqueraders amidst vines of southern plants and flowers, paint brushes, musical instruments, the very top of the scene crowned by the brightly shining star Sirius. A flowing banner would be stretched along the bottom, pulled along by either Carver's jesup wagon or a pair of birds . It would echo some Old Time saying like, "As it is above, so it is below."



Ketubah image from Ketubah By Kamy . Dogon masqueraders image from Elineage.com

Monday, March 24, 2008

Historical Irony














I love these pictures of my grandfather's life as a church leader. They mark his journey from "The Door to the Pulpit" (the name of the memoir that he long ago told me he fancied writing about his progression from usher to deacon to pastor), one of the most important rites of passage of his life. Since my mother shared copies with me, I've been struck by their intimate yet journalistic quality. I used to wonder who took them. Not long ago, I got my answer.

The irony that lies beneath these images is just as fascinating as the moments they preserve: Grandpa told me that he and the photographer both worked at the Galveston Wharf Company. Grandpa first worked with the Wharves as a janitor and through the Civil Rights years was gradually promoted until he had a "respectable" desk job.

In any case, in addition to the photographer's job at the Wharf Company he had ties to the local paper and, rumor had it, to the local branch of the Klan. Grandpa shared this in a very matter-of-fact way, with nary a note of anger. Almost like he was recalling the score from a sports match.

Was grandpa extending collective forgiveness toward the photographer and all that he represented by not only inviting him to our family's place of worship, but also granting access to such a private and sacred moment in his life? Or was it simply fear and submission?

A finished photograph tells as much about what a photographer sees with his heart as what he sees with his eyes. Say what you like, but to me these images say that in some small corner of himself, the photographer was testifying to the beauty and tradition of this ceremony. Else how would he have known that the congregation of elders crowning grandpa's head with their arms extended like beams radiating from the sun was worthy of preserving? Why was the photographer interested in attending in the first place?

Such is the irony of relationships in the South.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Honor and Respect to the Good Sister Maggie

As always, many thoughts and a number of significant happenings, yet I haven't posted a thing since the fall.

Most significant was the passing of my sharp dressing/gun totin'/straight-talking/"Cadillac-steerin' it"/fisherwoman and church musician grandmother, the Good Sister Maggie Lee Simpson.

It's an understatement to say that my grandma was (is) one of the people who has most profoundly inspired me. She was of those women who lived her life as she "damn well pleased." Grandma's spirit was the sort that Alice had in mind when she conceived Shug Avery and Sophia for the Color Purple. And I can envision my grandma composing, in the privacy of her own heart, her own version of the "Gospel According to Shug" as proclaimed in The Temple of My Familiar.

I'll be recalling grandma's life a little here and a little there as time permits, so please, stay tuned.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Remembering Papa Ed


It has been months since Ed Bradley joined the Great Congregation of Ancestors. A true papi chulo (!!!) and renaissance man, let's take a moment to remember him.