Monday, January 3, 2011

Geechee Relatives????

In my secret, undercover life I am an amateur genealogist and have been working on compiling my family pedigree since I was about seventeen.  Recently, I discovered a familiar name in the most unlikely of places!!!  As I was preparing to teach my ENGL 3960 course, "The Gullah Presence in African American Literature by Women,"  I read as much background info to refresh my perspective.  I picked up the book Drums and Shadows: Survival Studies among Georgia Coastal Negroes (1986) expecting to find some interesting folklore I could share with my class.  As I read the interviews from formerly enslaved persons and their descendants in Yamacraw, Georgia I was floored when I read the testimony of James "Stick Daddy" Cooper:

Out beyond Yamacraw, where the old brick and dirt streets of the community give way to the broad, paved Augusta road, an old Negro named James Cooper has for years conducted a miscellaneous business in a ramshackle push cart. 1 James sells lunches to the workers at the Savannah Sugar Refinery; he also cobbles shoes and repairs anything from broken pots to roller skates. Because of his skill as a wood carver, particularly of walking sticks, he has become known in the vicinity as "Stick Daddy." A decidedly original technique is evident in his carving, but he smiled when this was mentioned.
"I nevuh bin taught," he said. "I took up cahvin as paht time jis fuh the fun of it. Muh granfathuh, Pharo Cooper, he used tuh make things frum wood an straw, sech as baskets an cheahs an tables an othuh things fuh the home. I guess I sawt of inherited it frum, him."
One of "Stick Daddy's" canes is a slender, snake-encircled rod with a handle made from a large black and white die (24).
[paragraph continues] Another, slightly thicker, is carved with a single crocodile. The third, a heavy stick topped with a flashlight handle in which the snapshot of a young Negro girl has been inserted, is artfully decorated with a turtle, a large crocodile, and a small, sinuous snake. The chief characteristic of "Stick Daddy's" work is the boldness with which the carved figures, dark-stained and highly polished, stand out against their unfinished natural wood background. Very different is another stick that was found abandoned in an office building in the city. This has a man's head for a handle but the stick proper is so covered with minute, unpatterned crisscrosses that the little figure of a man upside down, a horned head also upside down, and an undetermined object which may be either man or animal, are noticed only when the cane is carefully studied.
"Stick Daddy," besides being a general repair man and carver, knows a few "sho cuos" for illnesses (25).
Pharo Cooper, you see, just happens to be the name of my paternal great-grandfather.  I only recently recovered "Pharo Cooper" as my relative and had done minimal research on him at the time I was reading.  I have since been on a whirlwind adventure trying to prove or disprove that the craftsman Pharo Cooper, referred to by "Stick Daddy,"  is the same Pharo Cooper from whom I am directly descended.
I have discovered, through the agency of Ancestry.com, that my ancestor was born between 1859-1862.  The earliest record in which I can locate him is the 1880 Federal Census.  He was living in Indian, Williamsburg County, South Carolina.  I researched the area to see if there was a plantation owner with the surname Cooper.  I discovered that William Cooper also lived in Indian, Williamsburg County, South Carolina along with more than one hundred people of African descent carrying the surname Cooper.  Now, logically this leads me to believe that William Cooper was the owner (former owner by 1880) of a huge number of slaves including Pharo's parents (Manassa and Nannie) and possibly had possession of Pharo during slavery.  Williamsburg County is one county inland from the South Carolina coast and given the historical fact that the enslaved population outnumbered the slave owning population, especially in South Carolina, I willingly assume that Pharo Cooper participated and was fluent in what we now refer to as Geechee/Gullah culture.
By 1900, Pharo had married and moved to Sycamore Town, Irwin County, Georgia.  He sired at least 12 children that can be documented in the census record.  I have run up against a brick wall in my next phase of research: trying to locate a direct connection between James "Stick Daddy" Cooper's parentage and Pharo Cooper's progeny.
While I am proud of my lineage regardless if my Pharo Cooper was a craftsman and furniture maker or not, I am certainly excited about the possibility of finding my ancestors name in a published book!  Before reading Drums and Shadows, I was uncertain where my paternal ancestry would lead me.  I was inspired to make a familial connection with the Pharo Cooper in the book and discovered a whole new branch of my family history that is connected to Geechee/Gullah corridor. I am continually amazed at how I am able to intersect my work with my personal life.  As some black feminist critics would say, "the personal is political."  I have always had an interest and profound respect for Geechee/Gullah culture; I see it as the origin of African American culture as we know it.  So to discover that I have ancestors that are more than likely part and parcel of this originating culture is profoundly humbling and satisfying.  I have a REAL, tangible connection to Geechee/Gullah Culture!!!!  This make my experience at St. Simons even more horrific (See my earlier blog), but it also fuels my passion for this part of the south and for the preservation/reclamation of the African American legacy.  I still don't know if "Stick Daddy" may be a distant relative, but I'm always working toward finding that answer! More to come soon!

In Search of Ibo Landing....

Back in September, my good friend and I ventured to St. Simons Island to visit the ocean and place ourselves on historic Ibo Landing and other various places our slave ancestors formerly occupied (See:  http://www.georgiaencyclopedia.org/nge/Article.jsp?id=h-2895 for the story behind Ibo Landing).  Much to our dismay NONE of the visitor's center brochures/maps even made mention of Ibo Landing. This, however, had no bearing on us for we are known for going rouge and finding what we have sought out. What was much more disturbing is that upon discovering the location of Ibo Landing---a MONUMENTAL site of historic importance for anyone of African descent in this country--we were barred from it because "its on private property".
Feel me?

I have been trying to work through the anger, rage, insult, and feelings of being violated since then.  Daaiyah and I were able to view the site from the side of the road, but I still feel a tremendous void and ache in my soul about being denied access to something that should by all rights not be ANYONE's private property.  Ibo Landing is "in someone's backyard".  Are you serious? How DARE they allow such a sacred site to be owned, to be part of some affluent sub-division.  It is shameful on an island that has resurrected and restored other notable points on the map of American history, but has done nothing to acquire this property for its historic value.  But then, I must remember that what is valuable and sacred to my heritage is seldom valued by others in this country.
Walk with me....

To add insult to injury...we did discover a map of African American historic interests and immediately set out to find them after paying the proper homage to Ibo Landing from a far. Some how, the slave cemetery of Retreat Plantation has been protected and for obvious reasons we sought it out. It is couched somewhere on the grand property of the Retreat Golf Course and exclusive Golf Club.  It was permissible to drive on to the property and view the "majestic" greens...but when I stopped to ask the gatekeeper about viewing the cemetery I was met with smuggness and a swift rejection: "Yeah, its around here but its only open to direct descendents".  He didn't entertain any other inquiries and it was obvious that he wanted us off the property. Now, sure...I understand that one's last resting place is to be protected and respected.  I can dig it. Let's be clear. Me and sista Daaiyah only had intentions of doing some righteous praying and maybe leavin' a lil somethin' in honor of the dead.  But really? You are gonna deny me based on a genealogy that you made sure was wiped from my memory and your records? I mean, we are talking about a slave cemetery!!! How many of those who descended from the Retreat Plantation slaves actually KNOW who their slave ancestors were or where they are buried????  How does one prove that one is a direct descendant?Would you know me by sight? By name?

I'm sure he could have provided an answer to these questions had he entertained them...but for me that is neither here nor there.  As far as I am concerned I AM A DESCENDANT OF ALL SLAVES and I have a right to view and honor the last resting place of "the slaves who were ourselves".  I can't help but come to the realization that in so many ways we are still being owned.  This Golf Club literally OWNS some of our ancestors and has the power to deny us access to our own people.  Now what kind of TRASH is that???Was I expecting too much by thinking my skin gives me some sort of privilege or access in this matter? I mean, really...tell me if I'm trippin'.

I was overwhelmed with so many emotions.  I felt helpless.  I felt the tears sting my eyes.  I felt the uncontrollable urge to moan and wail like I had lost a child. I felt the hair on my arms stand up, readying myself to assualt this man who meant me spiritual harm. I felt that familiar tingle on the back of my neck telling me I was not alone. I felt my mouth begin to foam in insane rage.  My breathing became arhythmic and stuccato, my blood pressure rose like the sun,  and my muscles trembled.

I suppose I'm sharing this partly because I need to get it off my chest.  I have been so shaken by this experience, I think, because it had so much to do with a spiritual connection to our past. I still feel wounded right here in this very moment.  Another part of me wants to have a conversation about how to heal from these subtle, but often spiritually seismic blows.  I have to admit, I don't feel empowered enough to make any changes for future seekers of Ibo Landing or the Retreat Village Cemetery, but I do know that my unresolved tension/anger/hurt is not imagined and this time...I just can't act like it didn't happen.  So let me hear from you....this is not just my hurt.  Let's talk about our ancestral legacies and what it means when we can't have access to them.    Let's talk about the kind of damage that is done and how to reconcile with it---I'm not sure I'll really heal from it.

Moving towards Peace,
KM

Dunbar's Creek, the site of the incident @ Ibo Landing. St. Simons Island, Georgia.