The Grasp That Reaches beyond the Grave

The Ancestral Call in Black Women's Texts

Venetria K. Patton

• Publisher: SUNY Press
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781438447384
• Topic: Sozialwissenschaften
• Subtopic: Afroamerikanische Studien

The Grasp That Reaches beyond the Grave investigates the treatment of the ancestor figure in Toni Cade Bambara's The Salt Eaters, Paule Marshall's Praisesong for the Widow, Phyllis Alesia Perry's Stigmata and A Sunday in June, Toni Morrison's Beloved, Tananarive Due's The Between, and Julie Dash's film, Daughters of the Dust in order to understand how they draw on African cosmology and the interrelationship of ancestors, elders, and children to promote healing within the African American community. Venetria K. Patton suggests that the experience of slavery with its concomitant view of black women as "natally dead" has impacted African American women writers' emphasis on elders and ancestors as they seek means to counteract notions of black women as somehow disconnected from the progeny of their wombs. This misperception is in part addressed via a rich kinship system, which includes the living and the dead. Patton notes an uncanny connection between depictions of elder, ancestor, and child figures in these texts and Kongo cosmology. These references suggest that these works are examples of Africanisms or African retentions, which continue to impact African American culture.

Part I Preface

The Elder as Culture Bearer

Culture bearers transmit the culture of a people and may be male or female; however, women often are associated with this role because of the overlap between the roles of culture bearing and mothering. In Afrikan Mothers: Bearers of Culture, Makers of Social Change, Nah Dove asserts, “The woman is revered in her role as the mother who is the bringer of life, the conduit to the spiritual regeneration of the ancestors, the bearer of culture and the center of social organization” (4).¹ Clenora Hudson-Weems also identifies mothering and nurturing as “features of the strong Africana culture bearer” in her discussion of Africana Womanists (59). Bernice Johnson Reagon notes in “African Diaspora Women: The Making of Cultural Workers,” “Among all living things in the universe, there is a nurturing process. … This process is called mothering. When applied to the examination and analysis of cultural data, it can reveal much within the historical picture of how a culture evolves and how and why changes occur in order to maintain the existence of a people” (272–73). Reagon also notes that for female cultural workers of the African Diaspora, the disruption and trauma of slavery meant that nurturing not only was “reconciling what was passed to them with the day-to-day reality but also sifting and transforming this experience” to fit the New World reality (273). I argue in the following chapter that the elder othermothers of Daughters of the Dust and The Salt Eaters drew on ancestral knowledge to survive the cultural trauma of slavery and its after effects.

Although the focus of this project is on women’s networks in part because of the association among women, mothering, and culture bearing, this does not mean only women are capable of mothering or nurturing a culture. In fact, Dove notes that “[t]he role of motherhood or mothering is not limited to mothers or women even in contemporary Afrika [sic]. … Motherhood depicts the nature of the communal responsibilities involved in the raising of children and the caring of others” (4). Thus, the observations made regarding these elder othermothers are not exclusive to female elders. For example, Praisesong for the Widow’s Lebert Joseph surely serves as an elder for Avey Johnson as he leads her to reconnect with her ancestors at the Big Drum; however, I argue that the gender of the elder does make a difference, which is perhaps why Lebert Joseph is presented as androgynous. As an androgynous character, he can take on characteristics typically associated with women. Malidoma Patrice Somé, author of The Healing Wisdom of Africa: Finding Life Purpose Through Nature, Ritual, and Community, states, “The gender of the elder is important in maintaining the stability of a social community. Female elders, though they have the same qualities as male elders, are often more in demand because of their role as containers and reconcilers” (127). Although Somé does not clarify his reference to female elders as containers, I take this as a reference to the womb. In the introduction, I refer to Toni Morrison’s discussion of slave women as “natally dead” and suggest that the emphasis by black women writers on family, including elders and ancestors, might be a means of working out some unfinished business of their cultural past. Thus, in many ways, this project is in conversation with Joanne Braxton’s notion of “the outraged mother.” According to Braxton, “the archetypal outraged mother travels alone through the darkness to impart a sense of identity and ‘belongingness’ to her child. … Implied in all her actions and fueling her heroic ones is abuse of her people and her person” (21). The elder othermothers to whom I refer are outraged when they see their traditions and communities threatened. According to Somé, “Elders, like ancestors, are expected to identify and address what is not working in the village, not to give compliments and praise behavior” (127). He also says, “It is as if they are the ancestral ear in the village, guiding oblivious wrongdoers to act in a healing manner toward themselves and others” (129). Thus, the role of the elder is to reconcile fissures in the family and the community. They also provide guidance to youth or Kala still transitioning to elder or Tukula status. According to Fu-Kiau, “The kala, by the process of growth and maturation, becomes tukula, … which is the symbol of mature leadership within the community; it is also the step of the man of deeds. … The collective maturation, its leadership, through the process of collective growth, allows for social and community development” (27). However, in the case of Daughters of the Dust and The Salt Eaters, the maturation of the younger generation seems in jeopardy without the intervention of elder mothers, like Nana Peazant, Sophie Heywood, and Minnie Ransom. These elders take on the role of culture bearers by ensuring that the younger generation maintains some connection with their ancestral roots because they realize that ancestors are a source of strength.

1

Othermothers as Elders and Culture Bearers in Daughters of the Dust and The Salt Eaters

An elder’s role is to guide his or her community and thus to lead others on the path to become elders and eventually ancestors. However, as Bunseki Fu-Kiau informs us, everyone does not achieve elder status, as this is not a natural progression like ageing, but an accomplishment dependent on drawing on the wisdom of the ancestors. In The Way of the Elders: West African Spirituality & Tradition, authors Adama and Naomi Doumbia observe, “We defer to those older than us to let them know that we appreciate their guidance and all they have to offer” (108). Elders are described as “those who look after us and who hold more responsibility” (108). It is clear from these comments that elders play an important role in the community; however, the respect given to elders is not merely based on their advanced age. In “Ancestors as Elders in Africa,” Igor Kopytoff asserts that “the elders’ authority is related to their close link to the ancestors. In some sense the elders are the representatives of the ancestors and the mediators between them and the kin-group” (412). In other words, elders serve as conduits of ancestral wisdom through their role as culture bearers because they pass down the wisdom of the ancestors. This close connection between elders and ancestors is particularly evident in Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust and Toni Cade Bambara’s The Salt Eaters.

Although everyone may not achieve this stage, I would suggest that vigilant elders such as the othermothers in Daughters of the Dust and The Salt Eaters take up their roles in earnest when they see the young people they are guiding faltering and in danger of not reaching elderhood. The Peazant family in Daughters of the Dust is at a crossroads with some members ready to turn their backs on tradition and migrate to the North. The tension regarding their migration plans is exacerbated by a rape, which threatens to tear a family apart. The situation in The Salt Eaters is so bleak that a community organizer turns from marching and signing petitions to attempting suicide. The young adults in these novels have their worldviews challenged and in turn they question their ability to go forward. Thus, the notion of their maturing and eventually becoming elders cannot be taken for granted by their elders—an intervention is necessary.

Although Daughters of the Dust is certainly one family’s story, viewers also get the sense that their story is in many ways a microcosm of the African American experience. Bambara comments on the significance of the setting of the film at the turn of the century in 1902:

The Peazants and guests gather on the island at Ibo Landing for a picnic at a critical juncture in history—they are one generation away from the Garvey and the New Negro movements, a decade short of the Niagra/NAACP merger. They are in the midst of rapid changes; black people are on the move North, West, and back to Africa (the Oklahoma project, for instance). Setting the story amid oak groves, salt marshes, and a glorious beach is not for the purpose of presenting a nostalgic community in a pastoral setting. They are an imperiled group. (“Reading” 122)

Bambara’s choice of “imperiled” to describe the family is particularly apt, as it becomes apparent that their way of life is endangered and the Peazant family is in disarray. As the Unborn Child narrates the film, she tells viewers, “My story begins on the eve of my family’s migration north. My story begins before I was born. My great-great-grandmother, Nana Peazant, saw her family coming apart. Her flowers to bloom in a distant frontier” (Dash, Daughters: Making 80). Nana is concerned about the impact migration will have on her family. In “Property Rights and Possession in Daughters of the Dust,” Nancy Wright talks about this impact in terms of threats, “In the early-twentieth century, decades after the abolition of slavery, the Peazant family faces a different threat to their personhood: cultural dispossession. To leave the islands in 1902 threatens to dissociate those who migrate from their family, culture, and belief systems” (12). As an elder othermother, Nana cannot ignore this threat to the stability of the Peazant family.

Although many critics focus on Nana’s status as an elder, this should not be separated from her related role as an othermother. In fact, Nana’s maternal function is reflected in her name—she is known by her identity as nana or grandmother—her given name is eclipsed by her role as surrogate mother or othermother. Nana exhibits all of the trademarks of motherhood as identified by Nah Dove. Nana “is the bringer of life, the conduit to the spiritual regeneration of the ancestors, the bearer of culture and the center of social organization” (Dove 4). Nana’s maternity is apparent in her role as Eli’s great-grandmother, which implies her earlier roles of grandmother and mother to Eli’s father and grandfather. Nana is clearly in communication with the ancestors, as indicated by her regular visits to the graveyard, but more significantly Dash uses the terminology “spiritual regeneration” in her stage directions in reference to Nana’s preparation of the hand for family members to kiss (Dash, Daughters: Making 161). Nana’s role as bearer of culture is apparent in her attitude toward tradition and her view of the land as sacred. For example, she tells Eli, “I’m trying to give you something to take North with you, along with all your great big dreams” (96). This is a cultural inheritance that Nana believes is essential for survival. As the elder or central figure of the family, Nana feels responsible for its continuity. “Nana struggles to keep intact that African-derived institution that has been relentlessly under attack through kidnap, enslavement, Christianization, peonage, forced labor gangs, smear campaigns, and mob murder—the family” (Bambara, “Reading” 125). However, keeping the Peazant family intact is a struggle that Nana cannot fight without the aid of the ancestors.

Viewers quickly realize that the family is in the midst of turmoil that Nana senses and that somehow the Unborn Child is aware of the situation. The film then cuts to an image of Eula and Eli in their bedroom. Eula turns toward Eli, but Eli keeps his back to her. The Unborn Child then provides some more information about the scene, “And then, there was my ma and daddy’s problem. Nana prayed and the old souls guided me into the New World” (Dash, Daughters: Making 80). We then have our first indication that Nana called on the Unborn Child to heal this estrangement between her parents. The Unborn Child tells us that she is “traveling on a spiritual mission” (134). The Unborn Child’s assistance is necessary to provide cultural healing to the Peazant family.

I argue that Nana Peazant’s intercession to heal the rift between her great-grandson, Eli, and his wife, Eula, is an example of using ancestral cultural healing. As an elder, Nana is able to facilitate this ancestral healing by calling on the ancestors to send the Unborn Child. Significantly, many members of the island community see Nana as an elder or othermother although she may not be a blood relation. As grandmother, great-grandmother, and elder woman, Nana takes on a maternal role in relation to younger members of the island community. The first images of the film are of Nana and set the stage for all that follows. The first scene is from the 1860s and shows a young Nana with soil like dust blowing from her hands. The film then cuts to 1902 and an 88-year-old Nana rising out of the water fully dressed. According to Jacqueline Bobo, “The old woman bathing in the river symbolizes rebirth and the integral connection of the old with the new” (136). This connection between the present and past is reinforced by the opening words of the film taken from the Gnostic scriptures, “Thunder: Perfect Mind,” “I am the first and the last” (Dash, Daughters: Making 75). This contradictory statement alerts the viewer that perhaps time is nonlinear and as the film progresses this connection between the present and the past seems to operate in a cyclical manner. In fact, this cyclical movement is indicated by the way the camera angles tap into the counter clockwise movement of the Kongo cosmogram, a quartered circle, which symbolizes the Kongo notion of the continuity of life. Bobo observes, “In Daughters of the Dust references to the past are usually made through scenes in which a character travels left across the screen or looks off to the left” (148). The cosmogram depicts the counterclockwise movement of people from birth, dawn; life, noon; death, sunset; and afterlife, midnight. This along with Dash’s allusion to the cosmogram through the symbol painted on the turtle’s back suggests her very conscious incorporation of Kongo cosmology.

In the introduction, I noted that I am not arguing that the women I am discussing have direct knowledge of Kongo cosmology, but instead that there is an uncanny reflection of Kongo cosmology in their usage of elder, ancestor, and child figures. However, such a caveat is not necessary in a discussion of Daughters of the Dust, which Dash researched for many years. She visited the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, the National Archives in Washington, DC, the Library of Congress, the Smithsonian, and the Penn Center on St. Helena Island. She also sought the advice of Gullah expert, Dr. Margaret Washington Creel (Dash, “Making” 5–7). Yet the most explicit reference to Kongo cosmology is the use of a turtle painted with a circle and a cross in one of the picnic scenes. The stage directions and notations in the screenplay make it clear that the inclusion of the turtle is not incidental. The stage directions read: “Holding the turtle. The young boys have painted an African symbol on the back of the turtle. An encoded message, an ‘S.O.S.’ to relatives across the sea, markings passed down through generations who have long since forgotten their exact meaning.” To the side of these directions, Dash has noted, “use Ki-Kongo symbol” (Dash, Daughters: Making 147). Thus, it is clear that Dash is indeed aware of some aspects of Kongo cosmology and her use of elder, ancestor, and child figures are definitely informed by these beliefs.

In a passing comment regarding Daughters of the Dust, educator, Annette Henry, identifies Nana Peazant as both the eldest family member and the representation of the African ancestral past (184). Nana is the glue that keeps the Peazant family connected to their ancestors. However, the nature of this connection goes beyond her role of family historian. According to cultural critic, Patricia Mellencamp, Nana Peazant is “the guardian of legend and the spirits” (151). Nana’s relationship to the family’s African ancestral past is revealed through her references to herself and the Unborn Child: “Nana’s phrases, ‘the last of the old’ referring to herself, the eldest living member of the family, and ‘the first of the new’ referring to Eula’s unborn child, define the family as a continuum maintaining the relationship of the living Gullah family to their African ancestors, African culture, and their aboriginal homeland” (Wright 21–22). Although I agree with Wright’s assessment regarding the family as a continuum, it is important to note that Nana is not consistent in her use of these phrases. The first time these phrases are used, they both are directed toward herself. Early in the film as Nana watches her family prepare dinner, she reflects on the past and we hear her thoughts as a voiceover, “I’m the last of the old and the first of the new” (Dash, Daughters: Making 105). Then toward the end of the film, as she makes the hand to connect her migrating family to their ancestors, she says, “We are two people in one body. The last of the old, and the first of the new” (151). These statements about herself and the Unborn Child seem to reflect a belief in reincarnation as discussed by both John Mbiti and Janheinz Jahn.¹ This point is addressed further in the final chapter, but my intention here is to show the continuity of Nana as elder and ancestor in the making while also using the Unborn Child as an illustration of the close proximity between ancestors and children because children have just come from the world of the ancestors. Nana is in tune with her ancestors and is very much aware of the cyclical nature of life and she wishes to share this knowledge with her descendants so that they too will remain connected with their ancestors.

This transmission of traditions and culture is central to her role as culture bearer and elder. Although many viewers might focus on the lush imagery of the food and beach and think of the setting as merely a farewell dinner or gathering, Bambara’s reference to the event as a family council seems to be more to the point: “Nana Peazant has called a family council because values are shifting. There’s talk of migration. The ancestral home is being rejected on the grounds of limited educational and job opportunities” (“Reading” 124). This is not merely a moment for leave taking, but a teaching moment. According to film critic Manthia Diawara, “As the oldest person in the Peazant family, her role is that of teacher” (17). Teaching is at the core of the elder’s responsibilities. Thus even though Eula married into the Peazant family, she respects her husband’s great-grandmother as her own and looks to Nana to teach her the old ways. One of these old ways is communing with the dead. Eula tells her husband’s cousin, Yellow Mary, and her friend, Trula, about her mother visiting her after she wrote her a letter and placed it under the bed with a glass of water. In amusement, Yellow Mary laughs “Eula! You’re a real back-water Geechee girl!” (Dash, Daughters: Making 120). Nana would not have laughed at Eula because she recognizes the importance of family bonds. On the eve of their migration north, Nana creates a “Hand” or charm that includes hair from her deceased mother as well as her own hair because “There must be a bond … a connection, between those that go up North, and those who across the sea. A connection!” (151). Nana, as an elder, realizes the importance of respecting one’s ancestors.

However, although the younger island inhabitants may not fully understand Nana’s ways, most hold her in high regard. This is in part out of respect for wisdom associated with a long life, but also for the elder’s proximity to the ancestors. Ancestors are seen as sources of ancient wisdom, which forms the backbone of the community, as “[t]he ancestor’s life crystallizes the teachings of the family, of the ethnic group and the culture” (Ela 42). Although the ancestor is the focus of the next section, this chapter’s discussion of elders i...