“Taking my sons “Home” to The Gambia…
Because “CHOSSA” is real for me Laura (an older post)…
Following @Laura M. Quainoo is a treat for my old ass. She helps to keep us all grounded in US — and I love her for that!!!
I’ve been back to The Gambia several times since my first time, thanks to my dear friend, Gerald Pinedo, an artist, sculptor, lecturer and researcher of the slave trade from Cologne, Germany.
A little background
I met Gerald through a mutual friend in December 2001 while working as the Executive Asst. to the Editor and Opinion Page writer for the local newspaper in Key West, FL. After one of his research trips to Cuba, he’d come to Key West to prepare for his Black History Month exhibition at the San Carlos Museum in 2002. I wanted to interview him for one of my weekly columns so — my then, 71 year old Jewish friend, Rhoda, who’d been a part of bringing him to the San Carlos introduced us.
As he was going to be in town for a few months, the three of us enjoyed many a lively, late-night discussion about race, racism and why Blacks and Cubans in America were not aware of their true roots. He was amazed that when he asked the question — “Where are you from?” — during several interviews he’d conducted locally, the answers never involved any African roots. What he’d found for the most part, he said, were Cubans and Blacks who claimed Cuba or the Bahamas as their place of origin (as many folk do in Key West), who seemed to have totally discounted the fact that African slaves (I know how you feel about that term, Laura — a “nit we can pick” at another time?) were brought to, or through, those islands during the Triangular Trade — and us, who had no clue whatsoever, where our true roots lay.
Back to The Gambia
Gerald was building a Black History Museum in The Gambia. The last time I was there in 2012, the husband and our grown-assed sons met me there (neither had wives nor children at that time like they do now).
The husband and I’d decided we weren’t forkin’ over any more Christmas present money for their asses — cuz they’d just take them all back and get the damned money (they always thought we had no sense of style. But really, who doesn’t like Structure!). Instead, we paid to renew their passports (since we lived in Panama for three years, we all had one) and bought tickets to The Gambia.
We all had a f*ckin’ blast thanks to Gerald’s hook-up at the Ocean Bay Hotel & Resort (and yes, as my favorite aunt used to say, We were all fuck*n “involved in drunkenness” that night in the photo below!). The oldest, and shortest like his Dad (he really hates that shit, is now 41. The taller (like my side of the family), “Baby” is now 38.
We all felt “FULL!”
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