Sankofa
We live in words.
Black people have a very rich oral tradition. For me, my family dies when I stop talking about them. My mother used to tell the same stories over and over again as we sat in the living room, laughing as if each time were the first. I didn't understand what she was doing until recently. She was reminding me of my legacy. She was keeping our memories alive. And I have let them die. I need a few resurrections...
My family has a pack rat heritage. We keep EVERYTHING. I went through my drawers this weekend and found stacks of hospital clothes. ...Hospital clothes!! Who keeps that shit? MY family does/did. I had to throw them out. I can't donate it. I'll never wear them, so I had to throw them out. My mother used to treat trips to the doctors like shopping trips. Gloves, tongue depressors, whatever she could fit in her pocketbook. *smh* "Ebbie, pass me some of them gloves." "Ma!!!" "Shut up and pass me the damn gloves before the doctor comes back, child!!" If I check the linen closet, I will prolly find stacks of plastic gloves too...
It's a wonder my grandmother lived as long as she did. I was convinced at one point that she would die of food poisoning because instead of throwing away rotten food she'd cut around the "bad parts. *SMH!!* I had to routinely go through the fruit and veggies to make sure they were safe for eating! "Don't throw out the WHOLE cucumber." "Gramma, the cucumber is FURRY! I refuse to let you eat that!!"
My family was hairy! My mother grew sparsed out little hairs on her chin, which she would pluck out with her fingers. My gramma grew hair down her neck. She would have me shave her neck so that she could wear her wigs and call herself trynna fool people.
I sat on my gramma's lap until I was about 11. I only stopped because I gained so much weight and she couldn't take it. I will NEVER show anyone pictures of me in the sixth grade. I lost all of that weight by the end of seventh grade (though not in a healthy way, but that's a whole nother entry).
If I am spoiled, it's largely due to my sister. Almost everytime she left the house, she came back with something for me. She was my first and only valentine for many years. During the summer, she'd regularly go to the "crab stand" a few blocks from us on the corner and buy crabs for me. Or mussels. My obsession with seafood comes from her. She also tortured me by trying to wear ALL of my clothes. Mind you, she was 20 years older than me. One time she bought the same sneakers I had and I thought my life was over.
My gramma, being from Savannah and in her 90's, had a shitload of random sayings. "An empty wagon makes the most noise." "If I plant you, will you grow?" "______ never lets no moss grow on her feet." And other various sayings with words like britches or donnybrook in them. My favorite was "you didn't call me to say 'cat nor dog, kiss my foot!'" I think it's my fave because it's one of the few that I understood the first time I heard it.
My mother liked to tell the story of how stink my sister was as a child. lol! Another about how my gramma would curse her and my sister out for staying out too late (called them "strumpets"). And another about how my sister threatened to cut the boy I was dating. I look forward to telling my kids these stories over and over and over again until one day, years after I'm dead, they understand too.
Black people have a very rich oral tradition. For me, my family dies when I stop talking about them. My mother used to tell the same stories over and over again as we sat in the living room, laughing as if each time were the first. I didn't understand what she was doing until recently. She was reminding me of my legacy. She was keeping our memories alive. And I have let them die. I need a few resurrections...
My family has a pack rat heritage. We keep EVERYTHING. I went through my drawers this weekend and found stacks of hospital clothes. ...Hospital clothes!! Who keeps that shit? MY family does/did. I had to throw them out. I can't donate it. I'll never wear them, so I had to throw them out. My mother used to treat trips to the doctors like shopping trips. Gloves, tongue depressors, whatever she could fit in her pocketbook. *smh* "Ebbie, pass me some of them gloves." "Ma!!!" "Shut up and pass me the damn gloves before the doctor comes back, child!!" If I check the linen closet, I will prolly find stacks of plastic gloves too...
It's a wonder my grandmother lived as long as she did. I was convinced at one point that she would die of food poisoning because instead of throwing away rotten food she'd cut around the "bad parts. *SMH!!* I had to routinely go through the fruit and veggies to make sure they were safe for eating! "Don't throw out the WHOLE cucumber." "Gramma, the cucumber is FURRY! I refuse to let you eat that!!"
My family was hairy! My mother grew sparsed out little hairs on her chin, which she would pluck out with her fingers. My gramma grew hair down her neck. She would have me shave her neck so that she could wear her wigs and call herself trynna fool people.
I sat on my gramma's lap until I was about 11. I only stopped because I gained so much weight and she couldn't take it. I will NEVER show anyone pictures of me in the sixth grade. I lost all of that weight by the end of seventh grade (though not in a healthy way, but that's a whole nother entry).
If I am spoiled, it's largely due to my sister. Almost everytime she left the house, she came back with something for me. She was my first and only valentine for many years. During the summer, she'd regularly go to the "crab stand" a few blocks from us on the corner and buy crabs for me. Or mussels. My obsession with seafood comes from her. She also tortured me by trying to wear ALL of my clothes. Mind you, she was 20 years older than me. One time she bought the same sneakers I had and I thought my life was over.
My gramma, being from Savannah and in her 90's, had a shitload of random sayings. "An empty wagon makes the most noise." "If I plant you, will you grow?" "______ never lets no moss grow on her feet." And other various sayings with words like britches or donnybrook in them. My favorite was "you didn't call me to say 'cat nor dog, kiss my foot!'" I think it's my fave because it's one of the few that I understood the first time I heard it.
My mother liked to tell the story of how stink my sister was as a child. lol! Another about how my gramma would curse her and my sister out for staying out too late (called them "strumpets"). And another about how my sister threatened to cut the boy I was dating. I look forward to telling my kids these stories over and over and over again until one day, years after I'm dead, they understand too.