SANKOFA

My sister and her husband had a charter school named Sankofa. I designed an image for them.

It’s a bird looking backward but moving forward.  That’s where I see myself right now in this state of Sankofa.

In yoga we have mystically bird, Garuda.

“Sankofa is a Ghanaian principle meaning “Go back and take it” symbolizing positive reversion and revival.  The proverb signifies “the importance of returning in time to bring to the present useful past cultural values, which are needed today.  It is believed that progress is based on the right use of positive contribution from the past.” - Agbo

According to wikipedia

Sankofa is a word in the Twi language of Ghana that translates to "Go back and get it" (san - to return; ko - to go; fa - to fetch, to seek and take) and also refers to the Asante Adinkra symbol represented either with a stylized heart shape or by a bird with its head turned backwards carrying a precious egg in its mouth.

Sankofa is often associated with the proverb, “Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi," which translates as: "It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten."

“The keys and secrets which our great ancestors, healers, and Prophets had available to them, and which they use to decipher and reveal the great Spirit of life, are quickly being hidden away for all eternity, as concrete is poured over them, and as they are replaced with new devices using technologies that are deceiving instead of enlightening.” – Project Together

I talked to my uncle for about two hours on Monday.  I have never talked to him before in my life.  He is my father’s half brother, 18 years younger than my dad from my grandfather’s 2nd marriage. 

I never wanted to talk to him before.  I thought he and my grandfather were racists. I thought he didn’t want to know us because we were black.  I met my grandfather only once, I was six or seven and we drove to Omaha, Nebraska to meet him. I don’t know why at that moment we did that.  Why my parents opened up a world and another family to me and then closed it without any explanation,  leaving me to think I had done something wrong.  That I wasn’t good enough for my grandfather and uncle’s love.  I didn’t have any other grandfather.  My mother’s father left to get a pack of cigarettes when she was 5 and never came back.  That man in Omaha was the closest chance I had.

I remember my grandfather, his wife and my uncle speaking Greek all the time.  I didn’t know what was going on. In my memory I didn’t feel welcome – but my mother now assures me I changed that memory.  She swears that my grandfather doted on my brother and me.  That is in fact why I was probably so sad that I never heard from him again. My yoga teacher Maria Mendola once told me that memory is just the memory of the last time you remembered the memory. Can I trust my memory or did I change it to compensate for the loss? 

I wrote my grandfather many letters but I only remember mailing one myself.  I remember getting the address from my mother and putting a stamp on the letter and taking it to the mail box.  My uncle said my grandfather called my dad every couple of months and my dad would yell it him and then hang up. (My mother recently confirmed this – but as I child no one ever told me he called).  My uncle said he didn’t know about many letters from me, he only knew of one letter, and my grandfather kept it in his wallet his whole life along with a picture of me, my mom, dad, sister, and brother.

Maybe my dad never sent my letters, maybe my grandfather’s second wife never gave them to him.  But knowing now that my grandfather kept my letter in his wallet his whole life makes me cry.  Knowing that he wasn’t embarrassed that we were black that he wanted to be in our life is really important to me.  It’s transformational. "Go back and take it."  I am going back and taking the story of my grandfather.

My Sankofa, is learning about my grandfather from my uncle "and making a new relationship together with Nick where we can be friends and maybe one day be uncle and niece.  There was so much pain – mine, my father’s, my grandfather’s and Nicks, but that is the past.  The bird sees the past but moves forward.  Nick and I can define our future and heal this wounds by accepting each other as we are.

My grandfather lived his life for social justice.  He organized unions around the country.  He was a founding member of the CIO before it merged with the AFL.  He worked in steel mills, coal mines, and constructing the railroad, always organizing, trying to make conditions better.  He spoke Italian and some Chinese so he could talk to people better about the unions.  He changed lives, he changed the world, and he was just a short man just about 5’-7” with a 2nd grade education.  He came to the US from Greece when we was 14 years old without a single relative here.  But he was strong, like a bulldog, a learned from neck.  He was a man you didn’t want to mess with.

I will honor his strength and his life campaign for social justice in my own way.  Teaching yoga to everyone who wants it.  Sharing yoga with the underserved and under-represented. Sharing my story through art, yoga and writing.  Hoping my experiences can help someone else with theirs. Healing myself and bringing healing tools to others in the best way I know how.