On, September 30, 2015, and I saw the documentary “Rosenwald.”My thoughts went to my Aunt Odessa “Dessa”
Glenn Wilson who was one of the elders that pulled a shade down on her thoughts
and memories of growing up in Saluda and Greenwood Counties, South Carolina
from 1898-1916.The story as I
remember as a young child that her father, Rev. George “Papa” Glenn was a
wonderful man and an itinerant preacher in the Fire Baptized Holiness Church.Aunt Odessa was oldest girl and her
role was to work along with her oldest brother George “Hamp” Glenn.In 1916, Odessa andUncle Hamp were sent North to pave the
way for the family including 6 younger siblings to migrate to Philadelphia.
(1917)
Later in the 1980’s and Aunt Odessa was in her 80s I got a
different story.I am a teacher
and would stop by after school to check on Aunt Dessa at her apartment in the
Robert Norris projects here in Philadelphia.Her younger sister, my grandmother Aunt Lee, lived down the
street.(Aunt Lee’s role in the
family wasmother, aunt,
grandmother, and great-grandmother to 4 generations of Glenns)The new story told with disdain that Papa
took her (Aunt Dessa ),at the age 13, out of school to work.Aunt Dessa said she was a
student at Brewer Normal School and planned to be a teacher. She was so proud on me, "My niece the teacher." Aunt Dessa said, “I was smart, I was
good with my letters and numbers.”Brewer Normal School was not a Rosenwald School but founded and
supported by the American Missionary Society.
I believe Aunt Dessa’s mother, Fannie Tribble Glenn, made
the decision to move North…..that the younger siblings and the future
generations would have an education.The “real” family story is Uncle Hamp was a ladies man and Mama did not
like white people.Mama pulled a
knife on a white overseer, when she brought out lunch to her husband who was
working in the field and the overseer said for Rev. Glenn to keep working.Mama did not take too kindly to
that.In the end, everyone in that
Glenn family was in Philadelphia by 1917 never to return South.
Mama’s dream and goal did come true.Aunt Dessa's younger sister Aunt Vick
graduated from high school.The
next generation, my Mom’s generation, all of her first cousins graduated from
high school.They were able to
obtain those “good” government jobs.My generation the elders decided we were smart and were going to
college.Notice it was no
discussion.Even when I had my
daughter in college, it was decided the elders would take care of the baby and
I would finish school.
Today as I look at that picture of Brewer Normal School I
wonder is Aunt Dessa in that field.I am grateful for their sacrifice all those $5 during college but most
of all the encouragement, life lessons, and support. They taught me to wear my crown, nobody can ride your
back….”stand staight girl and wear your crown”.“Get a good education, you can take care of yourself, if you
get a good man you can help him but if not you can take care of yourself and
the children.” " You are too smart nothing but an A; a B+ is not acceptable" "You can be slow but not bad"
Wear your crown children of today and get a good
education…and mothers and fathers it is your responsibility to make sure that
happens.Teach our children their
history and legacy.
Ashay
Regina Binta Vaughn
October 1, 2015
The Four Glenn
Sisters (@ 1988)
left Aunt Inez, Aunt Lee (sitting) Aunt Vick (behind Aunt
Lee)
Aunt Dessa on the right in her apartment in the Robert
Norris Homes
On
September 28, 2013, I traveled to Columbia, MD to hear Melvin Collier present
"Slave Ancestral Research: Breaking Down That 1870 Brick Wall." The
talk was excellent and Melvin is a knowledgeable and engaging speaker. I
knew Mom had researched our maternal line to Milly Floyd Tribble (b.1822)
to a plantation owned by Charles Floyd in Newberry District, South
Carolina. I said to self,” Go you will learn something new
and meet fellow researchers." My DNA cousin
invited me to the talk. She always says, "We have to
figure out how we are related." I would reply I do not have family
from North Carolina. She explained to me that her family was from a
county on the Virginia/ North Carolina border and also Mecklenburg County,
Virginia.
My retirement project is to organize, digitize, and talk with Mom about her
research while she yet lives. In Mom's family history book,
"Sankofa" (pub. 1986), she poses the following questions: Where
did Milly Floyd Tribble come from? What was her real name? Through
attending workshops, knowledge of early white settlers migration patterns, and
speaking with the ancestors, I developed a research theory. "Milly's
mother and/or grandmother were first enslaved in the United States through a
Virginia slave port @1800." In 2011, I participated in an
emotionally moving experience of being "sold down river" at the City
of Richmond, VA Slave Trail. (Contact: www.efsinc.org)
Participants walked the path were enslaved Africans were sold further
south. The slavery system in the United States took away all vestiges of culture and names from the enslaved Africans.I named my @8th great-grandmother Yassedi. Yassedi means "don't call her name." Yassedi
was a forced participant of first the Atlantic Slave Trade and then the
Internal Slave Trade (The Second Middle Passage).Enslaved Africans from the Chesapeake were sold or taken as
property further south to South Carolina and Georgia. (Ison)
At the workshop Melvin Collier encouraged participants to pick up papers again
for another review. My friend who rode with me to Maryland said "Put
the slave owner's name in ancestry." I did that once but there are
too many Charles Floyds. I was overwhelmed and just stopped. Well,
I had a single sheet of Mom's research papers on my desk and I kept looking at
it. "What does the paper mean? This paper is talking to
me." When I returned home I immediately looked at the paper again
and what did I notice?... a birth date for Charles Floyd! (His wife name
was Margaret "Peggy" Spearman.) He instantly appeared on ancestry.com but
more importantly his male line goes back at least three generations in
Virginia. (I found 5 male generations but that information needs
verification.) And where do you ask was Charles Floyd's father,
Captain John Floyd III, born (on October 28, 1753)?...MECKLENBURG, County,
VA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Captain Floyd married Nancy Ann Andrews on July 4, 1783
in Lunenburg, County Virginia. All I have to say check out the Virginia
County map: http://www.vagenealogy101.com/
Captain John Floyd and his wife Nancy Andrews moved to Belfast, SC., presently
known as Silverstreet, in Newberry County
in December, 1783. Then John Floyd appears on the 1790 Census in Newberry, South Carolina with 3 enslaved Africans. Was
Yassedi among them? Is she Milly's mother? Is she Milly's
grandmother? Notice how tight my timeline is now 1783-1790
Prologue: I posted this blog on ancestry.com and was sent gift deeds and the will of Captain John Floyd (Charles Floyd's) father.
More research to do.......
Resources:
·Ancestry: com
·findagrave.com
Capt. John Floyd
III: Memorial # 86470892
Nancy Ann
Andrews: Memorial # 52002731
Migration
Patterns:An Alternative for
Locating African Origins by James Ison
My, Mom, Mother Hababa and I have had are health challenges
this year but Mom wanted to see her KINGS. So we headed down to
Maryland for the Royal Dinner (06.01.13). Imagine her surprise and shock when she
was honored and recognized. She was given
a Cameroonian dress ( and it is beautiful) and recognized again. Mom
cried tears of joy and was re-named Ya'Ya Hababa.. I uploaded our African
Ancestry results to Genetree. Genetree informed us that our DNA came
for Nsohngwa, in Northwest Cameroon. We met the President of the
village and he sits on the Fons Council. I would encourage anyone that can try to
attend the next event. I will succeed in finding my 10
great-grandmother Yaseedi who was taken out of present day Cameroon
(@1800) How do I know? check out my blog post..........She told me so: I just
have to prove it.
Will the circle be closed or is the clock of time only on the three quarters of an hour?
On June 2, 2010, my mother Mother Vaughn, at age 86,received the DNA results that her maternal DNA genetic ancestry sample shared ancestry with the Masa people in present day Cameroon. The Masa people can also be found in Chad and the Central Africa Republic. Mom was ecstatic! She would tell everyone in earshot,” Don’t mess with me! I’m Masa; I am from the Cameroon.” Mother Vaughn, Cousin Othella, and Aunt Thell is the family matriarch, historian, and genealogist. Mom has traced our family back to 1824, (eight generations) to Saluda, Newberry, and Greenwood Counties, South Carolina. Our family name is Tribble. Mom and I, in particular, are descendants of Rev. George and Fannie (nee Tribble) Glenn.
In the fall of 2010, the writer received an email from Gina Paige, President of African Ancestry Inc. ARK Jammers, a Baltimore, Maryland, based group along with the government of Cameroon would host the first Ancestry Reconnection Program. African Ancestry provided the names (confidentially) of the DNA certified African American returnees to Cameroon. Did I want to be a part of the historic journey? Mom could not fly fourteen hours and endure the arduous touring in a tropical climate. The itinerary was sketchy, I had no one to travel with me, the details changed weekly, and no money was needed except for airfare, and just who were the ARK Jammers? I am a Philly girl: can this be real? I decided to come out of my “Regina Box” and against my better judgment and sound advice purchased my airline ticket. Why? Bimbia was on the itinerary. Just a brief phrase “Travel to Bimbia-Slave Port” was listed on the travel program. Mom and I had been to the “Door of No Return” in Ghana, Goree Island in Senegal, and took in the breathtaking sights of Abu Simbel in Aswan, Egypt but to get that close. Would I be able to connect Mom’s research back to a specific area: ethnic group in Cameroon? I was intrigued. I was curious. I would go in honor of my mother.
A week before our departure, I was ready to back out the trip (the details kept changing and were sketchy): then I received an email from Lisa Aubrey, PhD, from Arizona State University. Unbeknownst to me Dr. Aubrey and her graduate students were the researchers for the Bimbia part of the journey. In fact, it was Dr. Aubrey who insisted that the organizers take us to Bimbe. After listening to Dr. Aubrey with her calm, soothing voice and hearing her knowledgeable mind, I decided I was going and would not turn back.
Next thing I know on December 26, 2010, I am bound for Cameroon, Central Africa. My fears and trepidations were found less. The group of travelers was wonderful including six students from Howard University. The government of Cameroon and friends of the ARK Jammers paid for everything. Two days later on Tuesday, December 28, 2010, I departed the Hotel Sawa in Douala, Cameroon for Bimbia. I was like a kid with anticipation on tracing my female ancestor’s journey.
First we stopped at a Sawa house of worship for a Ngondo Ceremony. Visible on the pagoda style building were Egyptian symbols the ankh from the House of Horus, On Sawa house were the moon and horns of Hathor, and what appeared to be an ancient Egyptian Was scepter cut into three-sections, a long stick symbolizing the reproductive system of a male bull. It is a symbol of power. The Benediction was held in the sacred house just for our group. The Benediction ceremony is usually reserved for heads of states. We were barefoot so we could connect to the African soil. The priest spit on our feet in order to bless our path.
Back on the bus: Is Bimbe next? We drove through the town of Limbe. Crowds of people surrounded the bus and the military guarded us. I just sat on the bus in amazement. “The Americans had returned. We were treated as royalty and a curiosity at the same time.” Although I have traveled on five continents, I am a girl from West Philly; this was beginning to get overwhelming.
Finally, what seems to be forever but really @ three hours after we left hotel, we arrived at a restaurant on the outskirts of Bimbe. Sawa chiefs, town officials, and a band greeted us. We were given cold drinks and entertained by the band at the restaurant as small groups of our traveling party were taken to the village town hall. I was itchy and impatient: would I be left? What was going on? Finally, we boarded the 4x4s and SUVs to the town hall where we greeted by the Sawa tribal chiefs and elders, their queens and dancers. The queens kissed us starting on the left (east) and then to the right (west). Inside the Head Chief of the Region, Makundi lead a libation service and apologized for slavery. Makundi told us “time is elastic.” The group was shocked! We were not expecting an apology for the African role in slavery. The Sawa, Doula, and Isebu (Isu) were the middlemen in the slave trade. They were told to sell their own or other groups of people. There was not a dry eye in the room.
We were then re-loaded onto the 4X4s and disembarked a short distance away at a grassy path and told to start walking. Where is the water? Where is the Atlantic? We were assured that we were on the way to the Atlantic. On my arthritic knees and being overweight, I marched through the rainforest. The Limbe businessmen took my hand and guided me; like a younger brother leading his sister to his secret place. The two businessmen were my strong tower of strength and comfort. I did not feel any pain. No, I was levitating with a peace in my heart. I named my Masa grandmother, Yassedi. I could feel her spirit as I walked sure-footed with determination to the Atlantic. As the trees dipped like bamboo, I could feel her arms in encircle and protect me as I talked to her. I talked to myself. The Masa are from North Cameroon. How had she endured such a journey down to Bimbe?
Then I see African young men and women chained to the trees. Another shock. The chiefs, elders, and businessmen had planned a slave trading reenactment. We sat down for the slave trading reenactment program: I could not process it. As of this writing I still cannot process it. It was too real and I was still channeling Yassedi.
Finally, we followed the “enslaved” Africans to the shores of Bimbe. I was at the Atlantic. After @ 200 years, I was at the shores where my female ancestor had been forcibly taken to the Americas. But where in the Americas? Brazil? The Caribbean? Virginia? I had the first two generations of Yassedi’s children in my heart and pictures of the next six generations physically on me. I had an out of body and mind experience as I stood at Atlantic. I felt the spray of the water on my face and water rippled through my feet and toes. I heard the sounds of the crashing Atlantic. I wept and prayed. I could feel Yassedi holding me up and surrounding me with her love. And I prayed this prayer:
To Yassedi: Don’t Call Her Name
Because of you Yassedi
We are strong women,
Born of strong women,
Who are born of strong women
We speak your name of Yassedi
Because of you Yassedi
We are wise women,
Born of wise women,
Who are born of wise women
We speak your name of Yassedi
Because of you Yassedi
Because we are Warrior Women,
Born of Warrior Women
Who are Born of Warrior Women
We speak your name of Yassedi.
Because of you Yassedi
As I return these pictures to the water
I speak the name of my female ancestors Mama, Fannie Tribble Glenn,
and my grandmother, Aunt Lee Ross
Who taught us to wear our crown
That when people show us who they are we should believe them.
We speak your name Yassedi
Because of you Yassedi
I invoke the names of the living
For my mother, Othella Hababah
Who makes me dream more and walk taller
We speak your name Yassedi
For my Blessings from the Creator my daughter Sharifa and my grandson Jordan
Who are like the lions: strong, regal, and fearless.
We speak your name Yassedi
Oh Yassedi, your granddaughter has returned, I am here
I have returned to these shores Yassedi to thank you for enduring the journey, for walking through the pain, to celebrate you,
I know it was you guiding my footsteps from the beginning, You have always been there for me, You have completed me
I have returned to these shores to tell you we are well, blessed, loved, and at peace.
We have come full circle Yassedi.
Ashay, Ashay, Ashay, Ashay, Ashay, Ashay, Ashay!
Prologue:
This experience changed the trajectory of my life. I retired and now have several projects all related to ancestry and African-American history research. In particular all I want to do is to learn, write, and develop pictures and videos on my Cameroon journey. I have a new family of Cameroonian Americans and native Cameroonians. A few weeks ago Mom and I traveled to Prince Georges County, Maryland for a naming ceremony presented by the Northwest Fon’s (kings from Cameroon) Council-U.S.A. Mom was named Habibah (loved one) and myself Binta (with God) Mom clapped, cried, and was just joyous.
I am grateful, humbled, and blessed by all of these experiences and the wonderful, knowledgeable people put in my path. I know now I did not decide: God directed my path. In the words of Ruth, “Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.” Ruth 1:16
Be Blessed, Walk in Peace, and Have Joy,
Elder Regina, Busisiwe (Blessed in Zulu), Binta Vaughn; November 26, 2011
The knowledgeable people I met on the journey to Cameroon and are still teaching and sharing: in particular Nzumafo Njoku, CR Gibbs, Historian, Clarence McMillon.
And so many others from the trip, Verlena Matey-Keke, Lalene Smith, Nikka Smith
