The Root of it All

"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots." Marcus Garvey

My grandmother, Ernestine McDade, was a badass.

I think I had this healthy dose of fear and respect of her when I was younger. When I got older, I started to see the nuance of the struggle of being an educated, black woman, who set her own rules. I loved it, admired it, and sometimes hated it. She was always a woman who managed to have the last word. Her last words to me, after I finished my first year working in education was, "Well, I told you so." That was my Ma-Ma, and I love her dearly. I miss her so much.

One of my greatest memories was riding with her to Chicago to cousin Bill's house. They would get together before family reunions and gather information, share photographs and stories, and I had an amazed seat at the table while they worked on family history and stories. All of this culminated into our family reunion which was held almost every year. The honor of knowing at least a little bit about my history was this advantage, a treat. I wasn't this lost black girl not knowing where her people were from. However, the root of it all is that a piece of my history was still a bit lost.

I had these two Kuwaiti students, who used to take myself and my friend Yolanda around to different sites within their country. They knew their roots, their family line, the history and movements of their people. I have friends from the Continent, that can tell you about their tribe and history of their family; the why behind divides, colonialism making decisions about where people were supposed to settle. The root of it all is that they have intimate sense of their past, and it's something that I am quite envious. Although I have some, more than others, there are still parts of my history that I was dying to understand.

So here comes technology.....

I did a DNA test this summer and I received my results this week. Ever since, my mind has been filled with so many more questions and ideas about where my roots are truly from.

• 68% West African- Mali, Guinea, Senegal, Mauritania, Nigeria 
• 22% European- British, Irish, Mediterranean
• 1% East Asian and Native American

Then the interesting thing about the West African result is how the results broke apart my maternal side DNA. How through my mothers side, it traced the movement of her roots. How their language, religions, and traditions spread throughout Central and Southern Africa. It also explored my West African roots, and confirmed the movement was reflected in the Atlantic slave trade. I didn't need a DNA test to tell me that, but it brings a level of awareness that this is scientifically a part of my history. Thanks to my uncle, who did the testing a while back, I know that my paternal side is most likely from the Horn of Africa: Ethiopia, Sudan, and Somalia. The root of it all is that I am a product of some of the greatest empires that existed in this world. 

I haven't even started to dig in on the European part- I am still so overwhelmed with what I know already.

I was really trying to move on from the Middle East for work to explore other parts of the world, but I feel as if God planted me here because of its vicinity to where my roots are from. The language and religion of my scientific history, is one that is shared with my current physical location. It's so hard to explore these places from the states, but it is so much easier to do it from here. My dream to visit the continent could never be affordable over there in education. But here, if planned thoughtfully, can be something to deepened. The root of it all is that there is always a reason for reasons why we are where we are in this world. 

I wonder what my grandmother would say about all of this. I bet you she would've been one of the first to try to organize some trip and contact a distant relative or family member. And as I discover more, and figure out a way to honor her work,  I will indeed share my journey. It's the title of this blog after all....