Our Black and Native American Indian Heritage- Trail of Tears

Earlier this year, I found my Great-Grandfather's death certificate naming our Great-Great Grandfather, Nathan Jarman, and our Great-Great Grandmother, identified by the sole name of Nayaree.  It wouldn't be unnatural to believe that Blacks and Native Indians have been sharing a common bond and culture since earlier than the 1800's.  I remember my Grandpa Jarman in the early 1970's with his smooth complexion, high cheek bones, straightened hair and missing three fingers. His free spirit, raw personality, love of chewing tobacco, and a daily breakfast of beef brains and eggs.  He showed so much delight and humor in telling us great grand-kids that out of sheer boldness, he lay those missing fingers on a railroad track as a nearby locomotive charged past just to see what it would feel like. Some of the photographs I possess of he and his brother in the 1900's are so unfamiliar and distant of life today, yet they lived, and survived it.

Courtesy of Michelle Epperson Family album

This unique photo of a lone, young Black Louis Jarman, before he was a patriarch, in a Horseless Carriage manufacturing plant, to the far left of seven white youths his age, probably barely acknowledging his presence there.  If I only would have known his memory and stories were essential to my connection with two such magnificent cultures, constantly stomped out throughout history.  I would have asked more questions...I would have written more of it down...I would have researched more before this day.
He was born in Mississippi in 1897, home of various tribes including the Choctaw Indians.  It wasn't uncommon in the days of the settler, to find stories of slaves, Indians even Whites finding themselves carefully torn and intermingling to make sense of all these new types of peoples being discovered and created.  The trivia of who is civilized and who is not.  Who to trust and who will tear families apart.  Human decency, was not bestowed on the 'uncivilized' man, if only but a myth, and if you found yourself in one of these groups or perhaps a mixture of peoples, it has been a wonder that all of our history has not been lost.  Although many tried to kill off, crumple in spirit, demoralize and weaken the minorities of the era, there is this mysterious question of how we are all connected.  Why was it so important to remove whole races from existence out of ignorance and greed?
Young Diane Fletcher is historically portrayed at the University of Oklahoma with a few bits and pieces of her life that I'm sure don't do her justice but this photograph lives on enough to give us ponder as to who she was and how this image of her has managed to live on.  The daughter of a runaway slave and Seminole mother lost to the infamous Trail of Tears, like many of our stories, it is our pain that makes our persistence and fight to survive even stronger. This atrocity in itself began in what is called the Jacksonian Era where no Native American was safe from Andrew Jackson's wrath.  And although in this time of the Indian Removal, the Cherokee Nation vs. Georgia took their plight to the U.S. Supreme court, it would be scoffed and ignored by the President.  The removal would happen at a devastating cost.
The map below shows the 1,200 mile path from Tennessee to Oklahoma, taking nearly a year in the brutal winter of 1839 for men, women, children and troops to trek.  Samuel Cloud, was only a small child when his Cherokee family were forced to give up their homes.  He remembers being pushed out at gunpoint, his parents broken hearts, and the many onlookers as they passed by, state after state.  Yet still he managed to pass down this stunning and vivid account that his Great-great grandson would share and that we all should take the time to read.

Taken from Trail of Tears web project www.univie.ac.at

With a loss of about a fifth, or 4,000 peoples, Oklahoma would position thousands of Native Americans to settle in the Mid-West, where the majority of my family lives for example, in 1941 my father Norvette Brown, would be born in Chickasa, OK.
Georgia's state flower, the Georgia Rose, is said to have grown wild along the path of this trail for every tear an Indian cried that touched the ground.  Five white pedals to represent the clans of Cherokee, a yellow center depicting the gold stolen from their lands, and a thorny bush that conquers all who try to destroy it.

Works Cited:
http://www.ushistory.org/us/24f.asp
http://www.semtribe.com/history/
http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/HOMEPAGE/writings/tearsmemory.html
http://www.womeninhistoryohio.com/diana-fletcher.html
http://www.univie.ac.at/Anglistik/webprojects/LiveMiss/TrailofTears/trailtext.htm
http://www.powersource.com/cocinc/articles/rose.htm

Yasuke - Black Samurai and Page to Lord Nobunaga, Japanese War Lord of 1581

Imagine it's the late 16th century and you are the notorious Lord Nobunaga.  You hear of an exotic, charcoal-colored, 6 foot 2 African, a slave from Mozambique in the company of Jesuit Missionary, Alessandro Valignano.  He speaks several languages with Japanese being one of them and for a brief moment in this country's guarded history is the story of Yasuke...

Early photo of a black page with his Master

 "We do not know this slave’s actual name but the Japanese called him Yasuke (彌介), the reason for this name is unknown as it does not have a clear meaning and that it is most likely a “Japanization” of his actual name. He was apparently 6ft 2in and would have towered over the Japanese of the day. Nobunaga first heard of Yasuke when the  news reached him in 1581 of the great crush that had occurred when Valignano had brought him to Kyoto where his skin colour and height attracted a huge crowd. Nobunaga ordered the Jesuit to bring Yasuke to his court so that he could see this sensation in the flesh. Upon seeing Yasuke Nobunaga allegedly ordered him stripped to the waist and scrubbed believing that his skin was painted. Japanese sources described Yasuke as “looking between the age of 24 or 25, black like an ox, healthy and good looking, and possessing the strength of 10 men."

"Nobunaga was further intrigued by the fact that Yasuke could speak Japanese (albeit not perfectly) and ordered Valignano to leave Yasuke in his care when the Jesuit prepared to leave again. Yasuke became a permanent fixture in Nobunaga’s retinue, his size and strength acting as a deterrent to assassination not to mention a flavour of exoticism to accompany the warlord’s other Western possessions. Apparently Nobunaga became so fond of Yasuke that rumours abounded that the slave was going to be made a Daimyo (a Japanese land-owning lord). These rumours were proven wrong, however, Yasuke was given the honour of being made a member of the samurai class, a rare honour among foreigners."

"However, a year after Yasuke’s arrival in Nobunaga’s court, disaster struck. In June 1582 Nobunaga was betrayed by one of his closest generals, Akechi Mitsuhide. Akechi’s betrayal is still the subject of debate but it is likely that he acted out of the fear that Nobunaga was going to give his (Akechi’s) lands to Mori Ranmaru, with whom Nobunaga was engaged in a ritual homosexual relationship (common among the samurai classes and part of a system of patronage). Nobunaga and his small retinue, including Yasuke, were besieged in Honno-Ji temple in Kyoto by Akechi’s army. Whilst the temple burned Nobunaga committed ritual suicide. Yasuke managed to fight his way out and fled to the nearby Azuchi castle with Nobunaga’s eldest son, Oda Nobutada. With Nobunaga out of the way Akechi attacked the castle and Yasuke is reported to have personally committed himself to the fighting. However, the defenders were soon overwhelmed. Yasuke survived the battle but, rather than commit suicide (the samurai tradition when facing defeat) he handed his sword to Akechi’s men (the Western tradition). Unsure of how to proceed the soldiers deferred to their lord. Akechi proved somewhat more bigoted than Nobunaga when he replied that Yasuke was merely a beast and not true samurai and, therefore, could not be expected to know the honour of seppuku (ritual suicide). Akechi handed Yasuke back to the Jesuits in Kyoto who were reportedly relieved to see him still in one piece."

Possible 19th century photo of Black fighter with his master

"It is unknown what became of Yasuke thereafter but in the space of a year this slave from far away Africa had been elevated to the Japanese warrior class, an almost unique occurrence in history, and had been involved in an event that changed the course of Japanese history. Despite this we know almost nothing about him although in Japan he has not gone totally unnoticed, he became the subject of a children’s historical fiction called Kuro-suke (くろ助)."

This story is extremely remarkable as African American's in Japanese history are mostly non-existent.  So much so, that there is no name for this slave except the given name Yasuke which apparently has no other definition than the name the Lord Nobunaga gave his men tee.  As the story explains, Japanese for the most part, do not bestow honors to foreigners.  And for a brief moment in time, Yasuke was quite the talk of the town.  But the most interesting part of this story is that his survival means there may have been heirs to his story.  A living testament of his survival.  After all, every black American has to thank a most courageous and persevering slave for not jumping ship and into shark infested waters.  

Works Cited:
http://www.thatswhatsgoodmedia.com/yasuke-African-samurai/
http://www.tbs.co.jp/f-hakken/bknm/20130608/p_1.html
http://thedailybeagle.net/2013/03/07/yasuke-the-african-samurai/
http://knowledgenuts.com/2014/06/09/the-only-black-samurai-in-feudal-japan/

The Wet Nurse [African American Slaves of the South]

About two weeks ago, I was watching the series 'Reign' about the Queen of Scotland.  Episode 10 named 'Sacrifice', mentioned a newborn babe who's mother had died in labor and Mary, Queen of Scots, sent her to stay with a wet nurse.  I had an idea what a wet nurse was but I had remembered another movie about a wealthy woman in South Africa's slave woman had to feed her White master's child first before her own.  I figured this would also be the case where many women in the South having slaves did not breastfeed their own children as well.
Considering the large amount of racism in that region and the time period, I could not fathom why a White mother would deem it appropriate to have a Negro mother breast feed her child with her own, but I was incorrect.  In some areas, many slaves designated as wet nurses could feed their own child on one breast and the other devoted to the White child.  This seemingly idealized the equivalent as having a drinking fountain that was only allowed for 'Whites Only'.  [Note the title of the photo to the left entitled 'Southern Hospitality' as to imply that the slave of the time dutifully made her self available to nourish the South's children.]

About a year ago, I purchased the book, 'Bullwhip Days - The Slaves remember' by James Mellon. These narratives are unique as they are written as the slaves actually spoke.  Surprisingly, I have managed to understand the slang quite well and immediately I'm saddened as to how the lifetime of a slave can be summed up in just pages.  The slave's life was devoted to his/her Master and in the case

of a wet nurse, and in some instances considered an honor to provide the service.  

The following is a narrative from Ellen Betts explaining her life as a wet nurse in St. Mary's Parish, LA [the photo to the right does not depict Ellen Betts].  "And I tell you dat Marse William was de greates' man what ever walk dis earth....Mis' Sidney was my marster's fust wife and he had six boys by her.  Den he marry de widder Cornelia and she give him four boys. With ten chillun springin' up quick lak dat  and all de cullud chillun comin' along fast as pig litters, I don't do nothin' all my days but nuss, nuss, nuss...I nuss so many chillun it done went and stunted my growth."

In the early 1800's, Robert Mallard of Georgia wrote 'Plantation Life Before Emancipation', explaining briefly the relationship between he and his wet nurse/foster mother as she ..."always held a peculiar place in my regards. A black nurse taught me, it is probable, my first steps and first words, and was as proud of both performances as the happy mother herself."  In contrast however, the same research document examines the lost lives of Negro children due to neglect and the affects of how slave wet nurses reacted by either detaching themselves or forming a bond towards the white children they cared for.  Imagine the confusion of your body in its most maternal nature and to not be allowed to feed the child intended as its mother.  The fact lies that slaves bearing children were not to build healthy families but to add stock to the plantation.  Forming maternal relationships with slave children was frowned upon and in the South, the only labor required of a White woman with slaves was to bear the child.  All other maternal work duties fell upon the wet nurse, foster mother or house servants.

Under the simple title of 'Negro Nurse', you will see the routine accounts of a slave in North Carolina's 'promotions' through the ranks of her work duties.  "I frequently work from fourteen to sixteen hours a day. I am compelled to by my contract, which is oral only, to sleep in the house. I am allowed to go home to my own children, the oldest of whom is a girl of 18 years, only once in two weeks, every other Sunday afternoon--even then I'm not permitted to stay all night. I not only have to nurse a little white child, now eleven months old, but I have to act as playmate, or "handy-andy," not to say governess, to three other children in the house, the oldest of whom is only nine years of age."

This brief study gives me a realization that centuries of African American peoples were subjected to an unbelievable and horrific torture of the mind.  To be told on one hand that you are property and stock but then on the other hand, positioned in holding together an institution of love and kindness outside and away from your own offspring.  I can't imagine the grief and sorrow of the times and although these scenes are many decades past, people of color need to educate themselves as to their part in history and how instrumental it has been even if an atrocity.  The service and commitment of the African American should be one that is well remembered and regarded but never to returned to.

Citations:
Bullwhip Days - The Slaves Remember, by James Mellon Pg 380-381
http://historyengine.richmond.edu/episodes/view/2901
http://docsouth.unc.edu/fpn/negnurse/negnurse.html

African Royalty - Kings and Queens of Color - Queen Ana Nzinga of West Africa Ndongo

Late in the 16th century, England and France were the leaders of the slave trade and Portuguese found itself looking to make its fortunes in the Congo and Southwest Africa.
Imagine the 1599 visit of Portuguese Governor Joao Correia into the kingdom of Ndongo.  On behalf of her brother Ngola Mbande at a peace meeting, a brilliant Nzinga was present to lead negotiations that were in dire straits of reversing a healthy economy and territorial control of their lands.  His instinct was to take the only chair in the room leaving this royal African figure to stand.  Expecting her to stand for the conference, she summoned a nearby female servant who kneeling before her creating a 'seat' for her to resume talks.
With the slave trade in full force and ensuing during the 16th century, the Portuguese were attempting to colonize modern day Angola to position themselves within Southwest Africa to seize captives for the slave trade in Luanda .  To avoid aggressive attacks including neighboring African tribes on all sides, Queen Nzinga tried to form an ally with the Portuguese, which in less than 2 years would prove false and send her into exile founding a new state called Matamba.  Runaway slaves and Portuguese trained soldiers in the region would be welcomed into sanctuary in Matamba where a militia known as a Quilombo was established, or a remote, inland settlement originally settled by fugitive slaves.
The Queen would later join alliance with the Dutch Netherlands to regain the Portuguese city but their combined forces didn't keep hold of Luanda for long (Today, Luanda is known as one of the most expensive cities to visit in Angola) and Nzinga made her return back to Matamba.  But well into her sixties, she was well known as personally leading her armies into battle.  As a political strategy,  she would convert to Christianity before her death at the age of 81 in the year 1663 (some sites show 1661).  Today you can find her statue in Angola at Kinaxixi Square.








Check out these sites below to get more accounts of this Queen's amazing bouts as a ruler:

http://www.amazingwomeninhistory.com/anna-nzinga-mbande-fearless-africa-queen/
http://rainqueensofafrica.com/2011/05/nzinga-of-ndongo-and-matamba/
http://black-earth.webs.com/apps/blog/entries/show/25430503-kongo-kingdom
http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/01/travel/day-and-a-night-luanda/
http://www.albany.edu/faculty/jhobson/middle_passages/queerafrica/project.html

African Royalty...Kings and Queens of Color - Mansa (King) Musa of Mali

A few weeks back, I found an article in the Atlantic Black Star dated last year that named 10notable African Kings and Queens and I was determined to make this the first research of my cultural study.  Where we all began is from Africa, and I would hate to think there was a total disconnect from that history granted I know nothing of my ancestors, my true name or tribe affiliation. 

Mansa Musa, a 14^th century emperor of Mali whose wealth in today’s dollars exceeds $400 billion.  While under the Mansa’s quarter of a century rule, peace and prosperity were at at an all-time high in Mali. 

The first of any West African ruler, Mansa Musa’s documented 4000 mile pilgrimage to the holy Muslim city of Mecca in 1324 introduced him to rulers and civilizations in the Middle East and Europe.  With 600,000 followers and servants and over 80 camels carrying vast amounts of gold, Musa delved out so much gold to charities and those in need that a brief decline in the market's value ensued only to recover in Cairo about 10 years later.

Upon his return, Arab scholars, government bureaucrats and architects brought a higher realm of Islamic education and cultural additions to the city. Libraries, universities and the

still existing Djinguereber Mosque [shown to the right], of Timbuktu were a few of the sights that brought inquisitive visitors to the city. 
This increased the economy of Mali by becoming a most sought after location and gathering place of poets, scholars and artisans.  For the times, Musa’s kingdom was regarded as the center of Islamic Sub-Saharan Africa. 

Unfortunately after his rule, the kingdom suffered eras of separation and eventual befalling of conquering the once connected lands beyond recovery.  This in turn removed the vast fortunes into other lands.

For a more detailed description of the history of Timbuktu and Mali, please
check out the video below from Muslim News Magazine TV. 
It’s about a forty minute document but considering the accomplishments
and slight knowledge of the area by most, it is worth the listen.

Here are some additional links of interest used to publish this article:

http://www.blackpast.org/gah/musa-mansa-1280-1337#sthash.DPuaFsRP.dpuf

http://www.blackpast.org/gah/musa-mansa-1280-1337

http://www.thatswhatsgoodmedia.com/mansa-musa-richest-human-world/

Black Culture and Oppression in 2015...Have things really changed?

By the urging of my son in Miami, I went and saw 'Selma' a week early taking advantage of the film being shown in LA and New York before January 9th, 2015.  There were so many elements in the film that haven't changed much in today's society. 

• Killing or maiming a person of color has little if any merit when 'warranted' by [Privileged] law enforcement.  
• The media is extremely influential in the process of getting the information out to the public.  Many times sparking involvement and change.
• In opposition, the media can also portray an incident of unrest and violence as deserving of retaliation.  Many times, part of the story is told and the public isn't privy to know the history of the oppression.
• Government involvement with activists of interest may turn out to be martyrs before their time.  Much of the time, an unexpected death by authorities can create a martyr even if those same authorities wanted to set an example. 
• When blacks attempt to tackle an injustice on their own, it is less effective without the inclusion of other cultures matching the 'majority' that is active in oppression.
• The U.S. has a history of pegging its citizens against each other.  Claims that someone else needs to go somewhere else or to where they belong, when the whole premise of America is the "United" States.
• Most embarrassing for me and probably other people of color where the education system was limited in cultural studies, seeing a film like this almost appears like a new experience.

Bottom line, I realized this past weekend that there is a lot to celebrate about my Black heritage.  Ava DuVernay is a Black director that helped Selma's message come to life on screen.  I was born in 1966 and although the events were a couple of years before my time, I feel cheated that I didn't know the specifics.  Living in the Mid-West in Denver, CO you would need the assistance of a civil rights background or at least active historical presence from elders that had the story straight.  My parents were from Oklahoma and Kansas and there were just some things you didn't talk about if it wasn't affecting you at the time. 
But if you have Black skin, there is a history and brave examples of people of color that need to be celebrated for their sacrifices.  For what our children today take for granted, we as survivors need to be the "Griots" of the day.  We need to make sure that we know the story as well.  The most important element is to not include a story of revenge and hate.  Our survival is because of our faith, adaptability and perseverance not for helping the cause by ridding our race of the strong and willing to make a better life for our children.
Keep in mind however, oppression in any race is an injustice.  In the weekend prior to seeing "Selma", I was honored to see the film "Unbroken", the biopic of Olympian and Italian-American POW Louis Zamperini.  It is a crime for any American family trying to live a better life, while being subjected to living in a separate, sanctioned, geographic area, with substandard conditions, rise to the top and their struggle still unacknowledged and overlooked.  Stories like these from every culture need to be told even if they aren't included in traditional American history.
If you are born and raised in the U.S., you find out early in life that to become an honorary member of the acceptable majority, as people of color, we refer to our dark members as more violent and less desirable, and lighter skinned people of color deserving a privilege for their mixed heritage.  By society's standard, living in an environment of poverty and violence affords you the title of 'deserving' to be harassed, killed and tormented instead of being proven guilty.  Being of color can mean the difference between my son being shot (even with unproven cause) and a white mother's son being taken in for questioning, being charged, released; my point is, going home alive.  And lastly, my loc's, may be perceived as a type of rebellion when in fact, I embrace natural hair because man-made straightening products are harmful to my health.    
In the upcoming weeks, I will be showcasing a black pioneer or group that I have never heard of and share their story.  Our culture is rich with royalty, doctors, leaders, activists, musicians, inventors and artists whose names and stories aren't offered in modern day history courses, even though their contributions changed our lives like other past Americans who have been recognized and positively noted.  It is long overdue that we as a people are only synonymous with what is dark and negative and not for our accomplishments and additions to this great country's history.
God bless,
Chelle

Seeing more clearly...

About a month ago, I started having some slight vision problems while reading, driving and prolonged hours of computer work.   I found I needed progressive glasses for the first time in my life.  Strangely enough, I took a liking to the fact that I have yet gone into another stage of growth and proposed the synopsis that I'm viewing things more clearly in these more mature years.
With this clarity, I have been testing my ability to envision the future, heal from the past and help others grasp the possibility of a more positive view on life in general.  These characteristics are also unveiling a need to connect with past pains, unsolved trials and blocked memories that I so conveniently have deleted; choosing not to see because I figure, 'what's past is forgotten' but is it really?  The funniest thing about it all is that it isn't just me.  Others around me are 'finding themselves' as well, and in their connection to me, I am morphed through inclusion and remembering too.  Is it fundamentally so hard to believe that we all "see" together?  And if we are collectively open, understanding and loving about the healing process, we'll never have to be alone in the search for understanding.
For example, my grandfather is over 50 years older than I yet in a much need conversation just yesterday, I found that this estranged member of our remaining elders has more in common with my expressions of kindness and paying forward mentality than I ever would have thought when I was growing up in Kansas.  He was a whole different person then with a whole different role.  His views were more dominating and he wasn't much of a conversationalist.  He was the provider, out of sight and my grandmother entertained the matriarch role.
In our conversation, he made mention that after my daughter passed in the early 80's, I would stay in my room and play the saddest songs on my flute.  Sadly enough, I don't even recollect his presence during the ordeal, playing my flute however on the contrary, I do remember that when I lost Kara, my desire for music art was buried with her.
It's surprising that every few years or so, as the environment changes,  as we mature or as the universe shifts as loved ones pass away, that all of our roles change.  Purpose and meaning takes on a less 'blurry' picture, the fine print is less argumentative and the simple definition of life is all that rings divine.
What I see as most important now is that we all have the capability to change our prescription for life's journey.  It's comforting to know that there is something for us all to slip over the fuzziness that will make things clearer.  Through God, your faith, family and loved ones you care for and about, you can see the resolve and take the necessary steps to move forward in healing and caring for the treasured gift of a fresh new awakening of clear sight.
God bless and take care...
Chelle