IN CIRCLE: Sankofa Edition 2021

IN C I RC L E IN-CIRCLE.ORG

AUTUMN 2021

REMEMBERING COMMUNITY THROUGH THE WISDOM OF TRADITIONAL CRAFT

FEATURING

Sankofa a season of Traditional

w.

African Craft

ABOUT CIRCLE CREATIVE COLLECTIVE Circle Creative Collective is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization rooted in the Hudson Valley with a mission of preserving and sharing the wisdom and healing of traditional crafts and skills. We gather in Circle to weave the fabric of community, inspiring people of diverse cultures and backgrounds to remember the lessons and skills of our ancestors, and embrace the wisdom of each of our unique traditions.

CIRCLE’S CORE TEAM MELISSA HEWITT JENNY WONDERLING MIRABAI TRENT CIRCLE CREATIVE COLLECTIVE 845-481-0739 circlecreativecollective.org info@circlecreativecollective.org 62 Plains Road, New Paltz, NY 12561 @circlecreativecollective If you would like to make a tax-deductible donation, be a corporate sponsor, or volunteer, we would be truly grateful. Our programs are accessible to intergenerational and diverse individuals, many of whom cannot afford to pay. Please consider giving, no matter how small a gift. It keeps our programs blooming and accessible to all.

SANKOFA’S SPONSORS

Our impassioned psychotherapists and integrative practitioners are dedicated to helping you along the path towards your best life.

THE THERAPY-COLLECTIVE KINGSTON, NEW YORK THERAPY-COLLECTIVE.COM

Where you bank matters.

Banking with US makes a difference.

We give. We help. We care.

We are proud to support Circle Creative Collective and the Sankofa Festival.

For more info contact hello@dirtygaia.org

Imagine a Future with Dirt Love

866.440.0391 UlsterSavings.com EQUAL HOUSING LENDER / MEMBER FDIC

This project is made possible with funds from the Statewide Community Regrants Program, a regrant program of the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of the Office of the Governor and the New York State Legislature and administered by Arts Mid-Hudson.

CIRCLE’S AUTUMN EVENTS CALENDAR

26

2

sept . th

oct . nd

macrame plant hangers voices of the ancestors

2-5 pm

at circle studio

2-5 pm kingston point beach

12

oct . th

nov .

6 &7

intro to knitting series sweetgrass basketweaving

7-9 pm

3

tuesdays in october

at circle studio, new paltz

4

nov . th

dec . th

13

doll making workshop holiday makers market location to be announced 1- 4 pm at circle studio

circle studio :

62 plains road, new paltz

in - circle . org

hand over hand a story of vulnerable exploration

by Jenny Wonderling. Edited by Emmanuel Price.

a

while back, Circle Creative offered the first in a round of workshops focused on West African craft as part of our first Sankofa series. It was on a Sunday at the African Roots Library in Kingston and when I arrived, I didn’t yet know anything about weaving or making net bags, but came with a willingness to learn, curiosity and an open heart. This was before Covid was of concern and we could still gather maskfree without fear of being close.

Melissa and Mary Jane (MJ), two other co-founders of Circle, had proposed this particular endeavor. Those two, along with Mirabai, Poliana and our young children, have been steeped in a culture of and passion for handwork, have lots of experience with craft and weaving, and would also be there to help.

Unfortunately I was not as lucky to possess such experience, at least not yet, but I was willing to learn, and support where and how I could.

Before we began our class at the library, I had to (again) personally acknowledge my quiet apprehension about my lack of skills, and about what would emerge in that particular group dynamic. More important than any insecurity though, I trusted the hearts of these giving and talented friends of mine who have also helped grow this Circle and who in their lives exemplify our mission “to connect, enrich and inspire diverse individuals and communities by sharing and preserving traditional crafts, arts, and skills.”

At the African Roots Library

that Sunday, the room quickly filled with children and others at every life’s stage: strangers and friends, young and old of every background and lineage, had come together to create and share. And once the workshop began, I quickly realized that in an odd way, my lack of experience with the tasks at hand (pun intended) rendered me humble and childlike too, a perfect combination to be in a room full of people in whose eyes I could

...the ability and eagerness to hold space for strangers and friends coming together in circle to create and share.

How are we being divided all the time by perceived differences? also see trepidation when they first arrived. That is the way almost all humans are when we step into an experience and a group with which we are unfamiliar: unsure.

My work with Circle has deepened my inquiry into the sources of that trepidation which also might prevent others from picking up yarn, thread, and more.

My maternal grandmother and paternal great grandmother both knitted and crocheted regularly. Unfortunately, neither woman ever tried to teach us kids, and us young ones never expressed an interest in learning. Was it that our elders belittled what they knew how to do?

Did they think we wouldn’t find such processes exciting or fun or entertaining enough? Did they consider their skills unsophisticated remnants of the old country? That they weren’t important enough to pass on? Only now am I finally realizing how this lack has created a faultline in me, as well as a gratitude for what I do not yet know how to do, and for those among us who have not forgotten these beautiful and important art forms and wisdom.

In the past decade, an increasing awareness of the magnitude of human impact on the natural world and traditional ways of life has prompted me to move away from retail and consumerism, as my means of income. Hoping to find other ways to support my family and community than my old shops, Circle has become the vehicle for this change, reviving lost practices that borrow rather than steal from the earth, and passing important knowledge of generations on to the next. As someone who, for reasons of modernization or assimilation, was not taught the old ways by my grandparents, I am tremendously grateful for this sharing and its importance.

Thanks to Circle, for the first time in my own life, I no longer just admire the crafts and handwork of others. For almost three joyous years, I have been relishing the processes of creating and learning, and moreover, in community.

By the end of our day at the library, I would come to appreciate all over again the deceptive simplicity of traditional craft, movements our ancestors re-

peated so many times across generations that they appeared fluid and natural. Things that drop people into fuller presence, a sense of calm, and connection with others and the past, and even those they may have never met before. I would also come to think about my own family, what skills they carried and didn’t carry forward, and why.

I am jumping ahead though, and would like to take you back in time to just before the event started when the four of us white women and our brood of fair skinned kids arrived at this small library that celebrates and offers the literary works of African and African American writers. Secretly I harbored concern about women of European descent teaching African traditions to a room full of African American children and their families. How will they receive us? There is finally conversation about appropriation, social justice and repatriation. I wondered, Can we actually succeed in helping to return an appreciation for traditional skills to people from whom such knowledge

has been stolen and devalued by a colonial culture from which we are progeny?

Yet there was Odell, the library’s Founder and Director welcoming us with a broad smile, warm hugs, and obvious gratitude for our willingness to offer this workshop. He was even relaxed about us moving his tables and reorganizing the room, and as we did so, my eyes scanned the unfamiliar place.

African masks sit proudly in one corner calling in the ancient ones and honoring the birthplace of a rich and multifarious heritage. Books lined shelves with many names of authors that have affected me deeply too—Maya Angelou, Malcom X, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, and there were many other writers that were unfamiliar to me, that I hoped to return to one day soon to explore. I noticed other shelves crammed with picture books for younger children, and the toys in that corner for littlest ones to simply be children, while caregivers visit and immerse themselves in all the books Odell was deeply familiar with and eager to converse about.

I had finished my task of setting up a table full of beverages and snacks, then I helped MJ and our kids to untangle piles of string, arrange it all by color, and set out other materials. Finally MJ announced, “Ok, Jenny, are you ready to learn?”

I was admittedly a little nervous, a grown woman concerned that I wouldn’t “do it right,” a task the other women had selected specifically because it was simple enough for us to share with children, as well as adults. “How interesting,” I marveled silently as some of my shadow revealed itself to me. But my friend MJ was just smiling her beautiful smile, this mother and teacher and woman of soft edges and deep heart. And so I pushed past insecurities and listened to her instruction.

Here we are: a woman with more knowledge and experience, a teacher, guiding a novice with the simple instructions to twist incessantly on a piece of cotton cord. Yet suddenly we are partners in this task, co-creating something together, conjoining both our twisted halves of string into one form.

I gasp audibly. I watch in awe as this inanimate thing searches for itself, spinning and weaving spontaneously as we move our fingers along the cord to release the ends further and further up the shaft of the newly, miraculously woven cord.

I am openly amazed by this simple act that has become truly magical, this limp string rendered animate as it draws into itself, two disparate ends suddenly woven together without effort at all. I am infected with the miracle of this new skill and can’t wait to share it with each adult and child who

soon come in the door. “That’s called, walking the dog,” Mary Jane says, and then Melissa chimes in as she’s moving past, “And that process is at the foundation of all string, thread and rope”.

Soon I was excitedly inviting each person to explore what their hands could do too, black, white, brown, tiny or long fingered, but hands like mine–– unfamiliar with their own capacity to transform ordinary materials into the extraordinary through movement and the exploration of simple skills.

I watched one cautious face after the other also light up with surprise, then soften with laughter, trust ignited by gentle, repetitive gestures of twisting cord between fingers, of a shared experience, and cooperation. Little girls were teaching men. Boys were teaching women. Women were learning from each other. Each seat was filled around the table, we were all working hard, and little conversations were flitting here and there, and “Pass the blue thread, please!” or “I need a needle! Does anyone know where they went?” could often be heard.

It is important to look back with reverence and gratitude for those who came before and those who have kept these traditions and wisdom alive.

Hand over hand over hand, things are woven and created as we also learn that maybe we’re not so different after all and just where we are there’s something to be enriched by... to have compassion for.

During the event I often found myself swooning at the goodness of humanity, at the heartfelt and hilarious exchanges, and for the opportunity to co-create in a container where cultural, racial and generational divides could fall away.

In one moment of observation, I was struck by a few profound thoughts: 1) We are being divided all the time by perceived differences yet kids can dissolve those barriers without much effort at all, unless they are taught otherwise. 2) How quickly and beautifully we all worked together, sharing stories, helping one another. 3) That although these traditions seem to be “lost” to those of us who were not taught or exposed to such processes, or because those skills were denied or deemed “common” or “worthless,” in spite of the rich lineages they do carry, they are also accessible, and we can easily make them our own. But in doing so, it is important to look back with reverence and gratitude for those who came before and those who have kept those traditions and that wisdom alive.

We may feel deeply intimidated by what we imagine to be complexities about creating something that we think we cannot hurdle. But I invite you to remember this: circles are round, full of nourishment, womb-like, and of the feminine. Circles are forgiving, lush with wisdom, humor, and stories, ripe with fumbling, healing, and discovery. It is in the being that we sit together, the experience of creating, not right or wrong, but on a continuum of learning and sharing, it is about the doing and not the end result.

Like Odell and this beautiful library, we were proudly weaving together a new heritage that rises up out of the old, a tapestry of quiet and forgotten voices, and bright and loud ones, important knowledge and divinely worthy identities, each of our authentic and wounded selves coming through in myriad unique ways. Together we learned that it is in the sharing of process, history, her-story, and struggle, that by creating, we transform and heal.

Something magical happened on a Sunday in a little class in a little library in the little city of Kingston, NY. A group of strangers remembered that there is power that lives in their fingers.

They made things that suddenly became more potent with the memory of its making and richer with the creative imprints that make it even more our own. Our creations were a unique expression of where we were when we made it, grounded and focused, experimental and confident, careful or needlessly confined by what we thought was “right” or “good,” but perfectly expressive of our fully alive, playful process and hearts. A much more nuanced story than anything we could buy in any store. I left gratefully reminded, again, that craft and creativity heal so fundamentally, and that we each bring our unique gifts to the world.

You too are invited to join our next circle whenever and wherever we gather. Please bring your wisdom or your hesitant hands, we would love to create with you.

weaving traditions interview with basketmaker andrea cayetano-jefferson

by Jenny Wonderling

b

asket weaving is one of the oldest African art forms in the United States. The Gullah Geechee people are African Americans who have maintained a culture rich in African influences and have been creating baskets for generations in South Carolina and Georgia, and originally as far-reaching as North Carolina and Florida. They make them using local plants wild harvested by hand—including sweetgrass, bulrush, and long needle pine—and woven together with strips of palmetto.

Thanks to an inspiring trip to Charleston, South Carolina, Circle’s team found the perfect basket weavers to share their knowledge with folks here in the Hudson Valley and beyond. The Cayetano family makes this beautiful usable artform, passed down literally hand to hand through the family’s line. Some of the family’s unique work is on display in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture and can also be purchased in their stall at the Charleston City Market.

Weaving love and skill into their work, each basket is an embodiment of history which carries with it rich traditions set down in Senegal and Sierra Leone long ago. In a too-often disposable and disconnected world, offering a link to the past and an authentic reflection of family bonds are important and urgent gifts. Not to mention that from start to finish, each of these heirlooms is completely eco!

We had the chance to sit down with Andrea and speak with her. From the subject of how these traditional processes have been viewed in Andrea’s family, to how a changing ecology and society affect the availability of materials.

circle:

How much time do each of you dedicate per day (or week) to weaving?

andrea: The average medium sweet grass basket takes about 8-10 hours to complete. We normally weave about 10-12 hours a day 5 or 6 days a week.

circle: Do you exper-

iment with different styles or mostly stick to traditional ones that were passed down to you?

andrea: I normally make simple styles and very few traditional baskets. Most traditional basket styles are

very intricate and require lots of practice. I’ve always been “the breadbasket person”. My bread baskets and bowls are what I’m good at so I stick to that. Mommy/Martha on the other hand makes whatever comes to mind. She sometimes incorporates old and new styles together.

Andrea Cayetano is featured here in the middle between her daughter Chelsea and Martha, her mother.

The women will offer basketweaving classes at Circle Studio in New Paltz on November 6th & 7th.

circle: Do you feel weav-

ing/creativity is a spiritual act?

Or more like a meditation?

Just craft? Or art?

andrea:

I feel like weaving is relaxing and like meditation. Mom believes that weaving baskets is more spiritual. The Bible speaks of baby Moses being found in a basket in bulrushes. One of Mom’s favorite baskets to weave is an oval shaped basket made of all bulrushes which she calls a Moses Basket.

circle: Do you sing certain songs or listen to certain music when you weave? andrea: I listen to hip hop and rap music or watch t.v. when I’m weaving. I don’t like mosquitoes or Charleston heat so I weave mostly indoors.

Mom likes music, and to be outdoors. She usually is outdoors from dawn til dusk. Mom listens to Gospel most mornings and southern soul music throughout the day. If she weaves indoors she watches Westerns.

My nephew says, “Granny!

Baskets and cowboys all day!” circle: Does your family share any rituals or traditions before you begin to weave? andrea:

We don’t have any rituals or traditions that we do prior to weaving. We just

give thanks to God for another day on Earth, for health, and strength.

circle: Has it been hard to convince the younger generations that this is a valuable line of work and an important carrier of cultural traditions? andrea: As far as the younger generations; is difficult to get them onboard with this tradition. I personally have struggled with the decision to continue weaving baskets. I didn’t want this to define my life. But I’ve learned to embrace my superpower. I can turn grass into art. Being a young basketweaver was once taboo and shunned upon.

We were considered Gullah Geechee: country, uneducated, lacking understanding, or the workforce, and poor. All of these thoughts and comments are totally false but still are the beliefs of many in the Gullah community. circle: Are there particular stories your elders passed down to you about weaving and do you like to share these with the younger generations?

This/these could be a myth, fairy tale, or family story. andrea:

Our family story starts out along highway 17N in Mount Pleasant. My grandmother Rosa (like most children her age then) didn’t

learn to read or write and had a third grade education. She had to leave school to help her mother Martha Barnwell weave beautiful baskets. My grandmother taught her 8 kids (6 girls and 2 boys) to weave baskets as well. My grandfather Stephen was never educated. He drove cement trucks just about all of his life.

They managed to raise their family, build a home (that we all grew up in), and taught us work ethics. We were taught as children “man dat don work don eat,” meaning everyone is expected to help the family. I tell my kids the same thing at least once a week. My fondest memories are of summertime as a kid at my grandparents’ house. The whole family (aunts, uncles, cousins) would come together (it seemed like every night) to sit on the front porch to weave baskets. That’s when I took to weaving baskets. I didn’t like bugs so I would sit on the porch floor next to my mom and aunt Linda and use the sweetgrass and pine needles they dropped to weave my own baskets. They saw my interest and the rest is history.

“I’VE LEARNED TO EMBRACE MY SUPERPOWER. I CAN TURN GRASS INTO ART.”

Sankofa’s Sweetgrass Basketweaving Workshops Saturday, Nov 6, 2021 11:00am and Sunday, Nov 7, 2021 2:00pm At Circle Studio, 62 Plains Road, New Paltz in-circle.org

Learn the basics of sweetgrass basket weaving with two generations of Gullah Geechee women from South Carolina who have kept this family tradition alive, all the way from Senegal and Sierra Leone, Africa. Andrea Cayetano-Jefferson and daughter Chelsea Cayetano will lead both exciting hands-on workshops and offer a brief talk about the history and cultural impact of this beautiful craft. You will most certainly have a blast with this spirited mother and daughter duo, as well as settle into a meditative rhythm with this ancient and engaging skill!

Photos shot by Circle at Sankofa, Feb 2020

circle: It seems that traditionally this has been a female craft, but are any of the men or boys in your family interested in learning and pursuing this as a means of income? andrea: Men and women used to weave baskets equally until around the 1930’s. Men and some women too were expected to bring in steady income. My grandmother would sell a bread basket for $.25 to $1 and I sell that same style basket for $200 today. Unfortunately, in our family there’s no interest in learning or continuing to weave baskets by boys or girls. My siblings and 1st cousins were all taught to weave baskets and consider it something they will do once they retire. One cousin has recently retired and she is currently getting refresher courses from her mom. My daughter (Chelsea) knows how to weave baskets and is learning the history of our family. circle: It sounds like wild harvesting is getting difficult because of development. Is anyone in your family planting specific crops for materials? Are you exploring other materials? Are you concerned about the environmental impact on your essential ingredients? Have only sweetgrass and wild bulrush been detrimentally impacted or are there others? Are you having trouble keeping up with demand because of issues with harvesting? andrea: Harvesting materials....

Oh my!! I can remember as a young girl going to the grass fields being surrounded in a “forest” of sweetgrass.

Now those “forests” are either on private property or cleared out for new homes. We’ve been written trespassing notices by police, escorted off of property we’ve harvested from for years by police, and fences put up to keep us out. We have not explored planting our own materials because it requires lots of land and we (Me and Mom) just don’t like the feel of it. Sweetgrass that grows wild is easier on the hands.

Bulrushes are found along the marsh areas. Our ancestors were given these “Uninhabitable lands” because of the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes. Now, we have gentrification. Everything that made Mount Pleasant, SC so special is being ruined because of progress. Even long leaf pine needles are being used for landscaping. Harvesting materials is our biggest issue because of keeping up with demand. Sweetgrass grass is harvested during the summer months mostly by the men in the Gullah communities. As these men get older, die, or move away the younger generations have no interest in learning or continuing to harvest.

circle: Are you bringing any kind of basket weaving programs into your local schools?

andrea: Currently I’m not working with any of our local schools. I do have something in the works with Anderson University in Anderson SC in the next few months. circle: How have things changed between the generations, that you have embraced this art, in spite of your hesitations. andrea: I’ve been weaving baskets since I was 6 years old. I started going with Mom to Charleston City Market at 8. I never considered basket weaving a job, career, or even a business. It’s just what I do/ did. The older I get (I’m 40) the more I realize that we’re losing our identity as Gullah Geechee people. It’s no longer taboo or frowned upon to speak my

native tongue or weave baskets.

I now have friends from high school calling me to give them lessons.

circle: Did you have another dream career before you did finally embrace basketmaking? andrea: I’m currently working as a caregiver. This job has made me realize how much of our history is being lost. I’ve decided that this will be my last year as a caregiver. I’m going to invest more time into my art/craft. My dream is to travel in an RV with Mom educating people about our culture and Sweetgrass Baskets across the country.

Gratitude to Andrea for taking the time to share your stories!

create with us from home or in our studio

Circle has all sorts of Makers Kits so you can learn to create from home.

Choose from Needle Felting, Embroidery, Macrame, or Weaving. Go to our shop at in-circle.org Post your creations to IG @circlecreativecollective and we’ll share it to IG or in our next publication!

shaking free together reflections on a shekere workshop Text by Jenny Wonderling. Photos by Circle.

This September, on the potent date of 9/11, twenty families and many friends gathered at Kingston Point Beach to celebrate community and the healing wrought by shared wisdom and the unique expression of our own two hands and hearts. The medium was shekere— gourd instruments, and (in this case) decorated with hemp cord and simple wooden beads—and although we each had access to the same small and large monochromatic beads, every finished piece pulsed with its very own character and range.

what is a shekere ?

This curvaceous ancient percussion instrument emits, when played just right, sounds that evoke wind rolling through dry grassy plains, the spicy communication of a rattlesnake, the soft rhythms of a swarm of cicadas, and inspiration to gather friends together in movement. Simply explained, a shekere is a hollowed out gourd or calabash, traditionally used to carry water and, when adorned with string, seeds, shells, beads and other embellishments, offers up gorgeous, festive music that elicits dance, song and connection. These shakers or rattles are oh so much more than mere pumpkins, and though they have their origins in West African culture and history, they have made their way into music and sacred ceremony as far reaching as the Caribbean, the Americas, and way beyond.

According to The Beaded Gourd—Its History, Construction and Technique by Beverly Botsford, “In Africa it is found primarily, but not exclusively, in the countries of Nigeria, Togo, Ghana, Benin, Sierra Leone and Côte d’Ivoire (there are many parts of Africa where you will not hear this instrument). Different language groups in each country often have their own names, styles, techniques, and traditions associated with the shekere. ”In Nigeria, the very large beaded calabash is called an “agbe”, and traditionally is owned and played only by professional musicians (Olatunji, Music in African Life). It is a personal instrument and never loaned or shared, even with family members. However, a son who is a professional musician may inherit his father’s agbe. Shekeres among the Yoruba of Nigeria are often connected with religion, given great respect, and play a very important role in certain traditional musical forms.”

“Throughout West Africa you will also find a smaller gourd, covered with a woven net which is tied off at the bottom, leaving a tail of loose strings. In Ghana and Togo among the Ewe language group it is known as the “axatse” and is often used to accompany a drum or bell orchestra on important occasions. In Sierra Leone you will find a similar type of shekere with a very loose net and long tail, often called a “shakeshake” or “shaburay”.

”When Africans were taken to the “New World,” they carried with them many of these rich musical traditions, which took root in varying degrees in different parts of the Americas and the Caribbean. In Cuba, Yoruba religious traditions using drums and shekeres are found almost completely intact—with similar rhythmic patterns, names of instruments and accompanying chants. Brazilians sometimes use a beaded (with seeds) coconut called “afuxe” similar in name and style to the Ghanian “axatse”. In the United States the shekere and other African related instruments continue to grow in popularity and are rapidly becoming part of our contemporary musical expression.”

Presented as part of Circle’s season-long Second Annual Sankofa series taking place throughout this autumn 2021, our workshop this past weekend was led by Carol Caru Thompson (aka Caru), Ms. V, and Circle. One woman exclaimed upon arrival, “You have no idea how excited I am! I have been wanting to know how to make a shekere for years!”

Some arrived more tentatively, but full of curiosity and palpable joy at the possibility of learning something new. We sat at picnic tables under the pavilion, the mouth of the historic Hudson River kissing the sand beach just beyond where we were, caressed throughout the day by a most glorious wind, West African traditional music blaring out of speakers the likes of Olatunji and others, mixed with stories, laughter, children squealing. The lush sounds of shekeres were also rising up, shaking free each voice from both the makers and wise and humble ancestors who, according to Caru, have been slumbering within each, just waiting to be coaxed free...

The sounds of shekeres were rising up, shaking free each voice from both the makers and wise and humble ancestors who have been slumbering within each, just waiting to be coaxed free.

“Sankofa” is from the Twi language of Ghana and teaches us to reach back to our roots to recover and gather the best of what the past has to teach us, so we can move forward with our full potential.

We learned rhythms ancient and accessible, which we will share on October 2nd when our Circle will gather again as part of Sankofa with How the Gourds Got Their Voices honoring the descendants and spirits of enslaved African people who once lived and shaped the Hudson Valley, their history, cultural contributions, and experience. This life-affirming story written and told by Caru will be brought to life with the visionary life sized puppets of Rosendale’s Redwing Blackbird Theater, Circle, and our community, again at Kingston Point Beach. Members of Good Gourd, a local singing and percussion group which Caru founded and celebrates African-American heritage and culture, will also be an essential part of the event and there will be a healing ceremony for the waters.

Please join us too—and bring your shakers if you have one! We will also be sharing many crafts projects for the whole family on the day of the event.

All participation in the October 2nd handson projects and attendance to our performance are free (donations welcomed). By the way, “Sankofa” is from the Twi language of Ghana and teaches us to reach back to our roots to recover and gather the best of what our past has to teach us, so we can move forward with our full potential. Whatever we have lost, forgotten or been stripped of can be revived, preserved, and sustained. A good thing to embody and remember.

Whatever we have lost, forgotten or been stripped of can be revived, preserved, and sustained.

sankofa

voices of the ancestors performance & celebration! saturday, october 2:00pm to

W

e are excited to present our Second Annual Sankofa series which will take place throughout this autumn 2021! As part of these events between September and November, our crowning jewel includes Voices of the Ancestors, a musical performance with handmade life sized puppets and masks, crafts, and healing ceremony for the waters on OCTOBER 2nd at Kingston Point Beach.

Honoring the voices of the ancestors, Voices of the Ancestors: Gourds Got Voices is a life-affirming story written and told by Caru Thompson and brought to life with the visionary puppets of Rosendale’s Redwing Blackbird Theater and our community. Members of Good Gourd, a local singing and percussion

2, 2021 5:00pm

group celebrating African-American heritage and culture, will also be an essential part of the ceremony.

“Sankofa” is from the Twi language of Ghana and teaches us to reach back to our roots to recover and gather the best of what the past has to teach us, so we can move forward with our full potential.

Indeed, whatever we have lost, forgotten or been stripped of, can be revived, preserved, sustained, and honored. Sankofa. Join us this fall and on Oct 2nd for our culminating performance at Kingston Point!

Shekere making, storytelling, puppetry, percussion music and performance, dance, tra-

ditional food, basketmaking, quiltmaking and more will ensure that myriad voices and forms of expression are represented, heard, and uplifted.

when:

JOIN US for an unforgettable event of celebration and healing at Kingston Point Beach on Oct.2nd!

where:

Sankofa, while focused on traditional West African and African-American crafts and arts, is inclusive to all cultures, bringing diverse peoples together to learn, be inspired, experience the joy and healing of craft, and dream into a more compassionate future together.

how:

Local organizations and artists in partnership with Sankofa throughout this fall series include Circle Creative Collective, MyKingstonKids, Seasoned Delicious, Harambee and others.

Workshops this autumn are an African roots culinary class and talk, a sweetgrass basket weaving class with three generations of Gullah Geechee weavers, and on October 2nd, a community basket weaving project, a basket making workshop, beading, shaker making from upcycled materials and much more. Families and friends of all ages are welcome!

from caru’s story, gourds got voices: “...every time we play a gourd, it is the voices of the ancestors we are shaking free, helping to awaken and rise up. When we play the gourd, the ancestors can sing up to the heavens again, out to nature. They call down the spirit of the gods and call forward the healing of the community. And every time, we each take a little less for ourselves and give a little more for the community. In turn, greed shrinks and our Ashe grows.

And that is how gourds got their voices...”

Oct. 2nd, 2021 2pm-5pm in case of rain: oct. 3rd

Kingston Point Beach

FREE or Donation:

Please bring your curiosity and open heart!

gourds got voices story by carole (caru) thompson It used to be that gourds were all quite similar.

It used to be that gourds were mainly used for vessels and utensils, like bowls, pitchers, cups, spoons, and pots.

But a long, long, loong time ago, way back before it was necessary to number the years like we do now— and wayyy back before things like issues were born…. into great big things called baggage carried upon all our backs.

Back then there were no lost people, not that there were no lessons in life like how to be childlike in loving. But there were no lost people. Way back then all gourds had the same voice.

But then greed grew into something so horrendous, so monstrous that every time someone stole or traded for more than they needed to live, the innocent ones were lost.

Greed became so big that whole villages and towns began to disappear, all the innocent ones began to go poof into the air.

Every time another one disappeared there was a

subtle depletion of the Ashe of the people. The life force of the people.

What could be done? There was lamenting. What could be done?

Drums would sound from one village to another, calling for the return of those taken.

Songs and chants were raised high calling out prayers to the gods for assistance and strength—to capture greed and pare it down to size.

So to save their essences, the voices of the lost ones were captured in the gourds.

And now every time we play gourd it is their voices which sing up to the heavens, out to nature, and call down the spirit of the gods to bring forth the healing of the community.

And every time we each take a little less for ourselves and give a little more for the community, greed shrinks and our Ashe grows.

And that is how gourds got their voices, how gourds got their voices, gourds got their voices.

souls a’gathered in freedom song by phyllis bethel

Souls a’gathered in freedom

They want you to listen, uh huh

Souls are gathered in freedom

They want you to listen, uh huh

Souls a’gathered in freedom They’re gathered in the water, uh huh

Can’t you hear them callin’?

They’re gathered in the water, uh huh

Can’t you hear them callin’?

They’re callin’ out from the water

They’re callin’ out from the water

They want you to listen, uh huh

Callin’ out from the water

They want you to listen, uh huh

Callin’ out from the water

They want you to listen, uh huh

Puppets on borrow from Redwing Blackbird Theater

Carol ‘Caru’ Thompson

HONORING THE PAST. DREAMING THE FUTURE.

Sankofa a season of Traditional

w.

African Craft

VOICES OF THE ANCESTORS AN EXTRAORDINARY PERCUSSIVE PUPPET PERFORMANCE

saturday

october 2

2 pm - 5 pm

V O I C E S O F T H E A N C E ST O RS PERCUSSIVE PUPPET PERFORMANCE & CELEBRATION! An inspiring story written and told by Caru Thompson and brought to life with the visionary puppets of Redwing Blackbird Theater and our community. Members of Good Gourd, a local singing and percussion group, and audience participation will also be an essential part of the ceremony.

Creating Together Before (simple shakers, community basket weaving, notes to ancestors), Water Blessing Ceremony to Follow.

(Raindate Oct. 3rd) at kingston point beach , delaware avenue

BY

Find out more:

ci r c l ec r e at iveco l l ec t ive . o r g

Weaving the Fabric of Community Through the Wisdom of Traditional Craft IN PARTNERSHIP WITH:

SPONSORED BY:

This project is made possible with funds from the Statewide Community Regrants Program, a regrant program of the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of the Office of the Governor and the New York State Legislature and administered by Arts Mid-Hudson.