Sacred Texts
African
African-American
Drums and Shadows - St. Simons Island



St. Simons Island

St. Simons, one of the larger coastal islands, lies off the Georgia coast not far from Brunswick on the mainland. For about fifteen years it has been connected by causeway and bridge to the Coastal Highway. St. Simons has always had a considerable Negro population, owing to the fact that from the early times many large plantations as well as smaller settlements flourished on the island. This has given the Negroes considerable contact with white people and of late years with the rather sophisticated type of tourist. Fearing that the old customs would have been forgotten, we had little hope of good field work here.

However, we had not worked half a day in the north end settlements of the island before we were happily surprised. Around Harrington and Frederica there still live many old Negroes who remember the customs and beliefs told them by their parents and grandparents. Most of them are intelligent, reticent, and proud. Not easy of approach but with good manners, they responded to the request to help record the traditional beleifs of their forefathers. Once they had realized the object of our conversation, they talked freely and graciously, and several were outstanding for their keen comprehension.

We went to see 1Catherine Wing, who lives at the corner of the Harrington Road and the main Frederica Highway. Her comfortable frame house was set in the midst of a flower garden and her washtubs were conveniently placed under a grape arbor and spreading live oaks. On the side road stood three stately pine trees from which hung silvery festoons of Spanish moss. Catherine was black, small, and lively at sixty-nine.

1aIse bawn in Meridian, she said, but Ise lib mos muh life heah. Muh people belong tuh duh Atwoods ub Darien an tings heah on duh ilun is pretty much duh way dey wuz deah. Some times is changed wut hadduh change, lak wen we hab a fewnul duh unduhtakuh come an git duh body an dey dohn lak yuh tuh hab no settin-up. In duh ole days we would sing an make prayuh all night an dey would come an measure duh body wid a string tuh make duh coffin tuh bury em in. Dey use tuh alluz sen yuh home tuh bury em in. Dey use tuh alluz sen yuh home tuh bury ef dey could git duh money but dey ain eben alluz do dat no mo. Dey nebuh use tuh bury no strainjuhs in duh buryin groun but heah dat am kep strick needuh.

We asked about the dances and festivals of her youth.

1bWe use tuh hab big times duh fus hahves, an duh fus ting wut growed we take tuh duh chuch so as ebrybody could hab a piece ub it. We pray obuh it an shout. Wen we hab a dance, we use tuh shout in a ring. We ain hab wut yuh call a propuh dance tuhday.

1cOne uh duh dances wuz call duh Buzzud Lope. Its a long time sence we done it, but I still membuh it. We ain hab much music in doze days but dey use a drum tuh call duh people tuhgedduh wen dey gonuh hab games aw meetin. It sho bin a long time sence I tought bout dem days.

Catherine told us that 2Ryna Johnson, who lived about a mile down the Harrington Road, was one of the oldest people on the island. Leaving the main highway, we followed the narrow, less traversed side road. It was a heavily wooded section. We viewed the massive-trunked hoary oak trees through a misty curtain of hanging moss. The fences along the road were covered with honeysuckle and wild grape. Shortly before we arrived at our destination, the road divided to give way to a growth of towering oaks; then it joined again, resuming its winding trail through the quiet, shadowed countryside.

The little settlement now known as Harrington was formerly the property of the Demere family. A little less than a mile north of this settlement was Harrington Hall, home of Raymond Derriere, who came to this country with Oglethorpe after serving ten years under Lord Harrington at Gibraltar.

To the left of the road was a small unpainted store operated by Ryna Johnson's daughter with whom she lived. Various advertisements on the front of the small building gave splashes of color to the green of trees and foliage.

Set back from the store was Ryna's house, surrounded by an expanse of short grass upon which a horse was grazing. The house was weathered with age, as were the vertical boards of the fence that enclosed the garden; here and there in the fence a new unpainted board, regardless of length, had replaced an old, and the top presented an irregular jagged pattern. The cabin was the usual two room affair but with a hall through the center and a lean-to in the back. The walls were papered with newspapers and, although there was a motley collection of objects and furniture, everything was scrupulously clean.

Ryna was blind from cataracts and had not been feelign very well; so she had just got up from bed. Although her body was bent and very feeble, her mind was still clear.

2aIse bout eighty-five yeahs ole, but I caahn tell zackly. I belong tuh duh Coupers wen I wuk on duh plantation. It bin sech a long time I mos stop studyin bout dem days. But I membuh we use tuh hab good times.

In answer to our inquiry regarding any Africans whom she had known during plantation days, Ryna told us, 2bAlexanduh, Jummy, an William, dey is all African. I membuh ole William well an he tell me lots bout times in Africa. Dey ain weah no cloze, he say, but a leedle clawt string roun em.

2cWilliam say dat dey ain hab much trouble gittin tings tuh eat in Africa cuz so much grow free. Dey cut duh tree an let duh suhrup drain out. Duh women tie duh leedle chillun all duh babies on tuh deah back tuh carry em roun.

2dHe say wen dey come in duh boats tuh ketch em, dey trail red flag and dey ain use tuh see red an das duh way dey git duh load. William he talk funny talk. He hab funny wud fuh tings. I use tuh know some ub em, cuz he teach em tuh me but it so long, missus, Ise fuhgit. But I membuh he say pot call 'sojo' and watuh 'deloe' and he call fyuh 'diffy' He sho did dat, but das all I kin membuh. Ef uh study bout em, maybe I kin membuh some mo.

We wanted a description of William, the African.

2eWilliam a good size man, heaby set. He hab two leedle line mahk on he right cheek.

Ryna mused, 2fTings is sho change. Wen we is young we use tuh hab big frolic an dance in a ring an shout tuh drum. Sometime we hab rattle made out uh dry goad an we rattle em an make good music.

We wondered if she, too, remembered the Buzzard Lope and she assured us, 2gYes'm, sho I knows it. Ebrybody knows it.

Shortly afterward the conversation turned to conjure and the old woman told us, 2hI sho heah plenty bout dat ting. Way back we hab plenty discussion bout root makuhs. I membuh my huzbun Hillard Johnson speak bout root makuh in Darien wut make duh pot bile widout fyuh. My huzbun he frum Sapelo. He could tell yuh bout sech tings ef he wuz libin.

A short distance away lived 3Charles Hunter, whose small board house was set well back from the road. The front yard enclosed by a wire fence was planted with a profusion of brightly colored flowers along the sandy walk leading to the house. Across the road to the left was a field which had been planted in corn.

Charles, a medium-sized, intelligent man, very black of skin and rather small-featured, talked to us about his people.

3aDey is long libin people he began. Muh fathuh lib until he a hundud an muh mothuh was ninety wen she die. Muh gran, she name Louise come from 4Bahama Ilun she lib tuh hundud an fifteen. Das duh way dey do an I guess I'll do duh same.

Did the people around Harrington believe in the old customs the way his mother and grandmother had believed in them?

3bYes'm, dey sticks tuh em but duh times is changin an yuh hab tuh change wid em. Duh unduhtakuh come now an mone lakly he bring yuh back tuh duh chuch an dey ain no watch an singin.

In the course of our talk he told us that the river baptisms were held by members of the local churches. 3cYes'm, we still baptize in duh ribbuh, Charles said. We hab one not long ago. We hab tuh wait till a Sunday wen a ebb tide come at a good time, cuz; it duh ebb tide wut carry yuh sin away.

Charles confirmed what the other residents had told us regarding conjure.

3dWell, dey's some belieb in cunjuh an some wut dohn. Dey's lots wut say sickness ain natchul an somebody put sumpm down fuh yuh. I ain belieb in it much muhsef but dey's curious tings happen. Now, wen I wuz a boy deah's a root makuh wut lib yuh name Alexanduh. He wuz African an he say he kin do any kine uh cunjuh wuk kin be done an he kind cuo any kine uh disease. He wuz a small man, slim an bery black. Alexanduh say he could fly. He say all his fambly in Africa could fly. I ain seen em fly muhsef but he say he could do it all right. We's sked ub im wen we's boys an use tuh run wen we see im come.

During the interview Emma, Charles' wife, hovered nearby, seemingly very much interested in the proceedings. Finally we asked her to come and talk to us. Although she said that she was too young to remember much of the old times, she gave us some recollections regarding the superstitions and African customs.

5Now muh gran Betty she wuz African an she planted benne seed. Once yuh staht plantin benne, yuh got tuh plant em ebry yeah aw yuh die. I tell yuh who kin tell yuh sumpm bout ole times an das Chahls Murray. He ain tell me how ole he is but I ketch his age jis duh same. Yuh go down tuh duh main road a lill way an duh road spring off tuh Chahls Murray house.

Emma also told us how to reach 6Ben Sullivan, one of the oldest men living on the island.

From Hunter's we turned left on a lane flanked by a thicket of low trees and bushes. After about two or three miles we came to a clearing where there was a scattering of houses and sheds.

A tall, spare man was plowing in a field to the left of the road. We hailed him and asked him if he could help us find Ben Sullivan. He left his mule and plow and came over to the car. he was tall, as straight as a soldier, with a lean agility that bespoke youthfulness. Over his long jaws and rather straight features his copper skin was smooth.

6aIse Ben Sullivan, he said, and were were puzzled.

But, we said, the Ben Sullivan we are looking for is an old man.

6bIse duh only Ben Sullivan, he answered. Ise eighty-eight.

It seemed incredible that this active, intensely alive man could really be so old. We asked him who is people were and what he rememebered about the old times.

6cWe belong tuh duh Coupers. Ise son tuh Belali. He wuz butluh tuh James Couper at Altama. I membuh we hab lots uh time tuh play wen we's chilluns. He smiled pleasantly at the memory.

This man, too, remembered native Africans he had known, for he told us, 6dI membuh lots uh Africans, but all ub em ain tame. But I knowd some ub em wut is tame and I knowd one tame Indian.

We asked about old Alexander, the African Root maker.

6eYes'm, I membuh him. He wuz a lill black man an he belong tuh duh Butlers but I ain know him well cuz we's diffunt people. Now ole man Okra an ole man Gibson an Ole Israel, dey's African an dey belong tuh James Couper an das how I knows em. Dey tell us how dey lib in Africa. Dey laks tuh talk. It funny talk an it ain so easy tuh unnuhstan but yuh gits use tuh it. Dey say dey buil deah own camp deah an lib in it.

6fOle man Okra he say he wahn a place lak he hab in Africa so he buil im a hut. I membuh it well. It wuz bout twelve by foeteen feet an it hab fut flo an he buil duh side lak basket weave wid clay plastuh on it. It hab a flat roof wut he make from bush an palmettuh an it hab one doe an no winduhs. But Massuh make im pull it down. He say he ain wahn no African hut on he place.

6gOle Israel he pray a lot wid a book he hab wut he hide, an he take a lill mat an he say he prayuhs on it. He pray wen duh sun go up and wen duh sun go down. Dey ain none but ole Israel wut pray on a mat. He hab he own mat. Now ole man Israel he hab shahp feechuh an a long pointed beahd, and he wuz bery tall. He alluz tie he head up in a wite clawt, and seem he keep a lot uh clawt on ban, fuh I membuh, yuh could see em hangin roun duh stable dryin.

Asked if he remembered any other Africans who tied their heads up, the old man told us, 6hI membuh an ole uhmun name Daphne. She didn tie huh head up lak ole man Israel, She weah loose wite veil on huh head. She wuz shahp-feechuh too an light uh complexion. She weah one ring in her eah an a veil fuh her eyes. I hab refrence to it bein some kine uh pruhtection tuh her eyes. Wen she pray, she bow two aw tree times in duh middle uh duh prayuh.

We asked about the music they used to have and what they used for dancing in the old days.

6iWe ain dance den duh way dey dances now. We dance roun in a succle an den we dances fuh prayin. I membuhs we use tuh hab drums fuh music and we beat duh drum fuh dances.

6jNow, ole man Dembo he use tuh bead duh drum tuh duh fewnul, but Mr. Couper he stop dat. He say he dohn wahn drums beatin roun duh dead. But I watch em hab a fewnul. I gits behine duh bush an hide an watch an see wut dey does. Dey go in a long pruhcession tuh duh buryin groun an dey beat duh drums long duh way an dey submit duh body tuh duh groun. Den dey dance roun in a ring an dey motion wid duh hans. Dey sing duh body tuh duh grabe an den dey let it down an den dey succle roun in duh dance.

6kDey ain hab no chuch in doze days an wen dey wannuh pray, dey git behine duh house aw hide someweah an make a great prayuh. Dey ain suppose tuh call on duh Lawd; dey hadduh call on duh massuh an ef dey ain do dat. dey git nine an tutty.

6lDey ain marry den duh way dey do now. Attuh slabery dey hadduh remarry. Dey hab big baptizin in duh ribbuh lak dey do tuhday an dey dip em on duh ebb tuh wash duh sins away and duh preachuh he make a great prayuh tuh duh ribbuh.

6mOle man Okra he a great un fuh buil drum. He take a calf skin an tan it and make duh side uh maple, Ise pretty sho it wuz maple. He stretch em obuh it good. It wuz bout eighteen inches wide an fifteen inches deep wen he finish it. He beat it wid a stick. Ole man Okra he sho kin chase a drum. Ole man Jesse he frum, Africa, too, an he make he own drum.

When we asked Ben if he remembered any African words, he replied, 6nI know dat deah wuz a ole man, it bin so long I caahn relate his name, at duh plantation wut wehn roun wid ole man Okra an I membuh well he call all duh fish an ting uh duh ribbuh by duh name uh 'nyana' an den I heah pancake call 'flim'. Muh granmothuh Hettie, duh mothuh uh muh mothuh Bella, she come from Africa too an huh huzbun come frum Africa. He name wuz Alex Boyd. Alex wuz bery small felluh but heaby an he hab dahk skin an shahp-feechuch. Yes, ma'am, he talk African but he stuttuh so he dohn talk much roun us chillun, cuz we make fun at im, an as I say befo, I wuz small lad den. Alex wuz knock-kneed an he tie he head up in a clawt.

Had his grandmother, Hettie, ever talked to him about Africa, we wanted to know.

Ben told us, 6oMany time. She tell som ting I membuh. She say he mus be bout tuteen uh foeteen wen dey bring huh frum Africa. She say deah wuz great talk bout comin tuh dis country an some men tell em it would take only two aw tree days tuh git deah. Dey wuz all happy tuh come. Her an lot uh friends come tuhgedduh.

6pWen Hettie fus come, she say she feel worried cuz she couldn unnuhstan duh talk yuh an many udduh tings bein so diffunt from huh own country. She hab two sistuhs an tree brothuhs but dey couldn git a chance tuh come. She hab mo refrence tuh uh mothuh dan duh uh fathuh. An she say dat in Africa she lib in a 'groun house.' It wuz a squeah house, and she say dat she lib close tuh a salt ribbuh but weah deah wuz a lot uh wile swamp. Wen she fus come tuh dis country, she didn unnuhstan bout fish. But she tell a lot bout monkey an parakeet. An, too, she say nuttn ebuh die way. Duh crops is come back ebry yeah widout habin tuh be planted.

6qDas all I membuh Hettie tellin bout Africa. Muh fathuh's fathuh come frum Africa too but wen muh fathuh Belali wuz a small young lad, muh granfathuh wehn tuh Dungeness on Cumberland Ilun tuh trade in slabes an nebuh wuz seen agen. It wuz muh fathuh Belali dat made rice cakes.

When asked about his father's mother, Ben continued, 6rMuh fathuh's mothuh lib at Altama. Huh name wuz Luna, but muh fathuh's fathuh wuz a unmarried man. Deah's many tings I do not membuh, it wuz sech a long time ago. I know dat wen deah wuz tuh be a buryin, dey alluz bury duh dead at night at duh plantation. Dey alluz come in frum duh tas befor dahk.

6sIn doze days deah wuz no way tuh git tuh Savannah cep by boat and wen Mr. Couper wannuh go, he use a boat bout fifty foot long an bout six foot wide. He take six strong oahsmen an dey would make it in ten aw twelve hours. I heahd tell ub a house buil by a man frum Africa, wid cawn stalks and mud and wid a straw filluh.

The flying story about old Alexander, the root maker, had interested us and we asked if Ben Sullivan had heard of it.

6tI ain heahd specially bout him but Ise heahd plenty Africans talk bout flyin. Deah's plenty ub em wuh could fly. I sho heahd em talk about great doins an Ise heahd ole Israel say duh hoe could wuk by itsef ef yuh know wut tuh say tuh it. It bin a long time sence. Ise tought bout tings lak dat, but ef uh studies bout em, dey comes back tuh me.

On the way back from Harrington to St. Simons village we stopped at 7Nora Peterson's small cabin to talk with her. Nora, the daughter of Tom Floyd, and African who came to this country on the Wanderer in 1858, is a nice looking middle-aged woman, pleasant and up to date. She told us about her father.

7aI wuz bery lill wen he died--not mone bout fo yeah ole, uh spec. I do know he come frum Africa. I membuhs dat an uh membuh muh Uncle Slaughtuh wuz his brothuh an he come frum Africa, too. I nebuh heahd him talk much bout it but maybe uh wuz too lill tuh membuh.

Although she had been so young at the time of her father's death, the woman still retained a vivid picture of him and she gave us the following description:

7bHe wuz shawt and dahk, a heaby buil. Yuh see, he wuzn but bout sixty yeah ole wen he died. Muh mothuh wuz Charity Lewis an uh got one brothuh, Caesar Prince, but he's younguh dan me an dohn membuh nothin.

From Nora's we went to the old tabby slave house of 8Floyd White who was related to her. Floyd was of middle height, black, and of a powerful build. When we were uncertain and groping as the right questions to ask, Floyd was clear and helpful.

8aIse nephew tuh Charity Lewis, so Nora is muh cousin, but Ise olduhn Nora an I membuh ole Tom Floyd well. I bout fifteen wen he die. He waz shawt an tick set. I tinks he wuz Ibo. He use tuh whoop an holluh. He say day do da way in Africa. He wuz doctuh too an he could cut yuh wid a knife an cuo yuh. I wish he wuz yuh right now tuh cuo me. I sho needs it an it make yuh feel lots bettuh. I heah him talk plenty bout Africa but I caahn membuh so much ub it cuz uh wuz young boy den. He say he lib in a hut on a ribbuh an dey eat coconut an bread wut grow on a tree. Dey plant yam ebry seben yeah an dey dohn hadduh wuk it. Dey hab peanut an banana. He call it by anudduh name but I caahn membuh it. I seen plenty ub African people an dey all say dey plant duh crop an dey dohn hadduh wuk it. I heah lot ub em tell how dey git obuh yuh. Dey trap em on a boat wid a red flag.

Old Tom Floyd was not the only root doctor Floyd could remember. There were many others, he said, some still living and plying their trade.

8bI knows a root makuh now, he told us. Uncle Quawt, he root makuh. Does yuh know him?

We replied that we had known Quarterman for some time but that he had never told us he could work roots.

8cMaybe he ain tell yuh but he kin wuk em all right. He kin put a cunjuh on wid a goofa bag as good as anybody.

8dNow, I tell yuh bout im. Deah's two felluhs in Brunswick wut does a lill killin an wen duh case is call, two buzzud fight on duh cote house an wen duh men come up befo duh jedge, he let um go free. Now, Uncle Quawt, he had sumpin tuh do wid dat. Dey ain so many root makuhs lef.

Floyd, too, had heard of Alexander, the old African root maker

8eYes'm, Ise heahd much bout im. He wuz still libin wen I wuz a boy. Ise heahd em tell plenty uh tales bout im. Dey say duh boat leab fuh Savannah an Alexanduh he yuh. He say good-bye frum yuh an tell em tuh go on widout im but he say he see em deah an wen duh boat git tuh Savannah, Alexanduh he in Savannah on duh dock tuh ketch duh line.

Pleasant memories associated with the social activities of the past caused Floyd to ponder abstractedly for a time. Finally he roused himself and told us, 8fWe use tuh dance roun tuh a drum an a rattle goad. Dey could make good drum frum hawg an bass drum frum cow. Doze days dey ain only beat duh drum fuh dancin; dey beat it on duh way tuh duh grabe yahd. Dat wuz fuh duh det mahch wen dey use tuh carry duh body in a wagon. Dey hab lot of singin den too and dey hab singin at duh baptizin. Den dey baptize em in duh ribbuh jis lak dey does now. Dey sing wid all duh candidates walkin in wite robes tuh duh ribbuh an duh preachuh he dip em on duh ebb tide an he pray duh ribbuh tuh take duh sin away. Dey ain mine gittin wet in duh ribbuh.

8gHeahd bout duh Ibo's Landing? Das duh place weah dey bring duh Ibos obun in a slabe ship an wen dey git yuh, dey ain lak it an so dey all staht singin an dey mahch right down in duh ribbuh tuh mahch back tuh Africa, but dey ain able to git deah. Dey gits drown.



1Catherine Wing, St. Simons Island.
1aI was born in Meridian, but I've lived most of my life here. My people belonged to the Atwoods of Darien and things here on the island are pretty much the way they were there. Some things changed that had to change, like when we have a funeral the undertaker comes to get the body and they don't like you to have a setting-up. In the old days we would sing and pray all night and they would come and measure the body with a string to make the coffin to bury them in. They use to always send you home to be buried if they could get the money but they don't even always do that anymore. They never used to bury any strangers in the burying ground but here that isn't kept strict either.
1bWe use to have big times the first harvest, and the first thing that grew we took to the church so that everybody could have a piece of it. We prayed over it and shouted. When we had a dance, we used to shout in a rin. We haven't had what you'd call a proper dance today.
1cOne of the dances was called the Buzzard Lope. It's a long time since we've done it, but I still remember it. We haven't had much music in those days but they used to use a drum to call the people together when they were gonna have games or a meeting. It's sure been a long time since I thought about those days.
2Ryna Johnson, Harrington, St. Simons Island.
2aI'm about eighty-five years old, but I can't tell exactly. I belonged to the Coupers when I worked on the plantation. It's been such a long time I mostly stopped studying about those days. But I remember we used to have good times.
2bAlexander, Jimmy, and William, they are all African. I remember old William well and he told me lots about the times in Africa. They didn't wear any clothes, he said, but a little cloth with string around them.
2cWilliam said that they didn't have much trouble getting things to eat in Africa because so much grew free. They cut the tree and let the syrup drain out. The women tied the little children all the babies on their backs to carry them around.
2dHey said they came in the boats and caught them, they trailed a red flag and they weren't used to seeing red and that's the way they got the load. William, talked funny. He had funny words for things. I used to know some of them, because he taught them to me, but it's been so long, miss, that I forget them. But I do remember he said a pot was called 'sojo' and water 'deloe' and he called fire 'diffy'. He sure did that, but that's all I can remember. If I study about them, maybe I can remember some more.
2eWilliam is a good sized man, heavy set. He had two little line marks on his right cheek.
2fThings are sure changed. When we were young, we used to have a big frolic and dance in the ring and shout to the drum. Sometimes we had a rattle made out of dried gourds and we rattled them and made good music.
2gYes ma'am, sure I know it. Everybody knows it.
2hI sure heard plenty about that thing. Way back we had plenty of discussion about root makers. I remember my husband Hillard Johnson speak about a root maker in Darien that made a pot boil without fire. My husband was from Sapelo. He could tell you about such things if he was living.
3Charles Hunter, Harrington, St. Simons Island.
3aThey are long living people. My father lived until he was one hundred and my mother was ninety when she died. My grandmother, she was named Louise, came from Bahama Island. She lived to one hundred fifteen. That's the way they did it and I guess I'll do the same.
3bYes ma'am, they stick to them but the times are changing and you have to change with them. The undertaker comes now and more than likely he'll bring you back to the church and there aint no more watch and singing.
3cYes ma'am, we still baptize in the river. We had one not long ago. We had to wait untill a Sunday when the ebb tide came at a good time, because; it's the ebb tide that carries your sin away.
3dWell there's some that believe in conjure and some that dont. There's lots that say sickness isn't natural and somebody put something down for you. I don't believe in it much myself but there's curious things that happen. Now, wen I was a boy there was a root maker that lived here named Alexander. He was African and he said he could do any kind of conjure that could be done and he could cure any kind of disease. He was a small man, slim and very black. Alexander said he could fly. He said all his family in Africa could fly. I didn't see him fly myself but he said he could do it all right. We were scared of him when we were boys and use to run when we saw him coming.
4A number of slaves accompanied their masters from the West Indies to this country. It was also the custom for slave ships to stop at the Bahamas en route to America with a cargo.
5Now my grandmother Betty she was African and she planted bean seed. Once you start planting beans, you have to plant them every year or you'll die. I'll tell you how can tell you something about the old times and that's Charles Murray. He hasn't told me how old he is but I caught his age just the same. You go down to the main road a little ways and the road springs off to Charles Murray's house.
6Ben Sullivan, St. Simons Island.
6aI'm Ben Sullivan.
6bI'm the only Ben Sullivan. I'm eighty-eight.
6cWe belonged to the Coupers. I'm the son to Belali. He was the butler to James Couper at Altama. I remember we had lots of time to play when we were children.
6dI remember lots of Africans, but not all of them were tame. But I knew some of them that were tame and I knew one tame Indian.
6eYes ma'am, I remember him. He was a little black man and he belonged to the Butlers but I didn't know him well because we're different people. Now old man Okra, and old man Gibson, and Old Israel, they were African and they belonged to James Couper and that's how I knew them. They told us how they lived in Africa. They liked to talk. It's funny talk so it's not so easy to understand but you got used to it. They said they built their own camp there and lived on it.
6fOld man Okra said he wanted a place like he had in Africa so he built himself a hut. I remember it well. It was about twelve by fourteen feet and it had a dirt floor and he built the side like basket weave with clay plaster on it. It had a flat roof that he made from brush and palmetto and it had one door and no windows. But Master made him pull it down. He said he didn't want no African Hut on his place.
6gOld Israel he prayed a lot with a book he had which he hid, and he took a little mat and he said he prayed on it. He prayed when the sun went up and went the sun went down. There isn't anyone but old Israel that prayed on a mat. He had his own mat. Now, old man Israel he had sharp features and a long pointed beard, and he was very tall. He always tied his head up in a white cloth, and it seemed he kept a lot of cloth on hand, for I remember, you could see them hanging around the stable drying.
6hI remember an old woman named Daphne. She didn't tie her hair up like old man Israel. She wore a loose white veil on her head. She was sharp featured too and light of complexion. She wore one ring in her ears, and a veil for her eyes. I have reference to it being some kind of protection for her eyes. When she prayed, she bowed two or three times in the middle of the prayer.
6iWe didn't dance the way they dance now. We danced around in a circle and then we danced for praying. I remember we use to have drums for music and we beat the drum for dances.
6jNow, Old man Dembo he use to beat the drum to the funeral, but Mr. Couper he stopped that. He said he didn't want drums beating around the dead. But I watched them have a funeral. I got behind the bush and hid and watched and saw what they did. They went in a long procession to the burying ground and they beat the drums along the way and the submitted the body to the ground. Then they danced around in a ring and they motioned with their hands. They sang the body to the grave and then they let it down and then they circled around in the dance.
6kThey didn't have any church in those days and when they wanted to pray, the got behind the house or hid somewhere and made a great prayer. They weren't supposed to call on the Lord; they had to call on the master and if they didn't do that, they got nine and thirty.
6lThey didn't marry then the way they do now. After slavery they had to remarry. They had big baptizings in the river like they do today and they dipped them on the ebb to wash the sins away and the preacher he made a great prayer to the river.
6mOld man Okra he was a great one to build drums. He took a calf skin and tanned it and made the side of maple, I'm pretty sure it was maple. He stretched them over it good. It was about eighteen inches wide and fifteen inches deep when he finished it. He beat it with a stick. Old man Okra he sure can chase a drum. Old man Jesse he was from Africa, too, and he made his own drum.
6nI know that there was an old man, it's been so long I can't relate his name, at the plantation that went around with old man Okra and I remember well he called all the fish and things of the river by the name 'nyama' and then I heard pancakes called 'flim'. My grandmother Hettie, the mother of my mother Bella, she came from africa too, and her husband came from Africa. His name was Alex Boyd. Alex was a very small fellow but heavy and he had dark skin and sharp-features. Yes ma'am, he spoke African but he stuttered so he didn't talk much around us children because we made fun of him, and as I said before I was a small lad then. Alex was knock-kneed and he tied his head up in a cloth.
6oMany times. She told some things I remember. She said she must have been about thirteen or fourteen when they brought her in from Africa. She said there was great talk about coming to this country and some men told them it would take only two or three days to get there. They were all happy to come. She and a lot of her friends came together.
6pWhen Hettie first came, she said she felt worried because she couldn't understand the talk here and many other things had been so different from her own country. She had two sisters and three brothers but they couldn't get the chance to come. She had more reference to her mother than her father. And she said that in Africa, she lived in a 'ground house'. It was a square house, and she said that she didn't live close to the salt river but where there was a lot of wild swamp. When she first came to this country, she didn't understand about fish. But she knew a lot about monkeys and parakeets. And, too, she said nothing ever died away. The crops came back every year without having to be planted.
6qThat's all I remember Hettie telling about Africa. My father's father came from Africa too but when my father Belali was a small young lad, my grandfather went to Dungeness on Cumberland Island to trade in slave and never was seen again. It was my father Belali that made rice cakes.
6rMy father's mother lived at Altama. Her name was Luna, but my father's father was an unmarried man. There's many things I do not remember, it was such a long time ago. I know that when there was to be a burying, they always buried the dead at night at the plantation. They always came in from the task before dark.
6sIn those days there was no way to get to Savannah except by boat and when Mr. Couper wanted to go, he used a boat about fifty foot long and about six foot wide. He took six strong oarsmen and they would make it in ten or twelve hours. I heard tell of a house built by a man from Africa, with corn stalks and mud and with a straw filler.
6tI haven't heard specially about him but I've heard plenty of Africans talk about flying. There's plenty of them that could fly. I sure heard them talking about great doings and I heard ole Israel say the hoe could work by itself if you know what to say to it. It's been a long time since I've thought about things like that, but if I study about them, they'll come back to me.
7Nora Peterson, St. Simons Island.
7aI was very little when he died--not more than about four years old, I suspect. I do know he came from Africa. I remember that and I remember my Uncle Slaughter was his brother and he came from Africa, too. I never heard him talk much about it but maybe I was too little to remember.
7bHe was short and dark, and heavy built. You see, he wasn't about sixty years old when he died. My mother was Charity Lewis and I got one brother, Caesar Prince, but he's younger than me and don't remember anything.
8Floyd White, St. Simons Island.
8aI'm the nephew of Charity Lewis, so Nora is my cousin, but I'm older than Nora and I remember old Tom Floyd well. I was about fifteen when he died. He was short and thick set. I think he was Ibo. He used to whoop and holler. He said they do it that way in Africa. He was a doctor too and he could cut you with a knife and cure you. I wish he was here right now to cure me. I sure need it, and it makes you feel a lot better. I heard him talk plenty about Africa but I can't remember so much of it because I was a young boy then. He said he lived in a hut on the river and they ate coconut and bread that grew on a tree. They planted yams every seven years and they didn't have to work it. They had peanuts and bananas. He called it by another name but I can't remember it. I saw plenty of African people and they all said the planted the crop and they didn't have to work it. I heard a lot of them tell how they got over here. They trapped them on a boat with a red flag.
8bI know a root maker now. Uncle Quart, he's a root maker. Do you know him?
8cMaybe he didn't tell you but he can work them all right. He can put a conjure on with a goofa bag as well as anybody.
8dNow, I'll tell you about him. There were two fellows in Brunswick that did a little killing and when the case was called, two buzzards fought on the court house and when the men came up before the judge, he let them go free. Now, Uncle Quart, he had something to do with that. There aren't so many root makers left.
8eYes ma'am, I've heard much about him He was still living when I was a boy. I've heard them tell plenty of tales about him. They say the boat left for Savannah and Alexander he was here. He said goodbye from here and told them to go on without him but he said he saw them there and when the boat got to Savannah. Alexander, he's in Savannah on the dock to catch the line.
8fWe use to dance around to a drum and a rattle gourd. They could make a good drum from hog and bass drum from cow. Those days they didn't only beat the drum for dancing; they beat it on the way to the graveyard. That was for the death march when they used to carry the body in a wagon. They had a lot of singing then too and they had singing at the baptizing. Then they baptize them in the river just like they do now. They sing with all the candidates walking in white robes to the river and the preacher he dips them on the ebb tide and he prays to the river to take the sins away. They don't mind getting we in the river.
8gDid you hear about Ibo's Landing? That's the place where they brought the Ibos over in a slave ship and when they get you, they didn't like it and so they all started signing and they marched right down in the river to march back to Africa, but they weren't able to get there. They got drowned.

Next: St. Marys