It's Our Story,
So Pass It On

By Vincent F. A. Golphin
Photos by Jim Hunter

It is said most ministers' best sermons are their own conversion stories. With the same intensity, storyteller Marie Saunders Hope hawks a tale of inspiration, too. The 74-year-old teacher turned actor portrays characters such as Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Mary McLeod Bethune, Barbara Jordan, Maya Angelou and Rosa Parks, inspired by the real-life tale of a woman she once saw on television. Hope said the lady, whose name she scarcely recalled, told how her blind grandfather, an ex-slave, spurred her to read and learn. As the story goes, in the innocence of childhood she asked the old man how he lost his sight. The answer inspired Hope to tell audiences throughout the country about black history.

During a recent interview at a Harriet Tubman celebration in Rochester, New York, the storyteller twisted her voice and posture to mimic an old black man, then repeated the answer: "Girl when I was a little boy the overseer caught me tryin' to learn my ABC's so's I could reads the Bible. And then he tooks me, and he puts me in front of ALLLL the slaveses. And he beats me sooo bad I just hollers in pain."

She continues, "And if that wasn't enough, he says, 'He [the overseer] grabs hold a poker and tooks and burned both of mine eyes out!'"

"And he says, 'I just cried with pain.' And he said the overseer say, 'Let this be a lesson to you darkys - that you best not learn to read.'"

With the listeners in the palm of her hand, she pauses to let the incredible savagery and horror of the response sink in. Then, in the old slave's voice, she said, "And then I want y'alls to know that today I want you to learn all you can! I want you to have all the books that you can, cause us's wasn't even allowed to learn our ABC's so's we could read the Bible. So y'alls can goes to school and not be whipped 'cause you are required to learn."

The woman on the TV said he ended with, "Now you promise me daughter-you promise me!-that you's goin' to reads everything that you can."

In that tale Hope discovered the power of a story, our story which is part of His story. "I am blessed because the Creator wanted me to let people know about our heritage," she said. "Also to make people aware of how bad slavery was and aware of people throughout history who have tried to fight for freedom."

The Columbus, Ohio, storyteller sees history as a weapon to enable understanding. "Many people have not had the opportunity to learn about black history and white people don't know about us, because they are not black," said Hope who has done more than thirty performances this year. "So I feel honored the Lord has allowed me to be an historical storyteller. I think that is a little bit different because when I portray Harriet Tubman, and I re-enact her, I am telling historical facts. The stories are not made up, and are not done for amusement, but it relates to history, and how bad slavery was, and the things that we as Afro-Americans need to know so we can be proud of our heritage."

Some historians say African-American families used to share the stories of their struggles until World War II. After that, particularly in the North, talk of slavery and segregation was muted by hopes of integration. Some parents were afraid too much emphasis on black America's pained past might handicap black baby boomers' bids for a brighter future.

The breakdown in traditional two-parent families during the 1960s and 1970s, combined with the strident individualism and materialism of the 1980s and 1990s, have left the present generation with a sparse knowledge of the past. Now some researchers are starting to realize African Americans lost track of more than a sense of heritage. They lost traditional values.

In short, most black children used to learn what is most important in life from the home or the church. Today, many pick up principles from the streets.

"Returning to our traditional African-American values is the best way for us to put aside our fears about the future," wrote Dorothy I. Height, known for her long-time leadership of the National Council of Negro Women, in the preface to Joyce A. Ladner's, "The Ties That Bind: Timeless Values for African American Families."

The author defines ten values common to most black families. She says the cultural value system is undergirded by four principles:

• The power of self-identity
• The power of the extended family
• The power of the community to determine its future
• The power of the past to influence the present

"Few groups in American society have had to struggle as long and hard as African Americans for their basic humanity," wrote Ladner, a sociologist and former interim president of Howard University in Washington, D.C. "Lessons in black values frequently teach the importance of developing a strong sense of both group and personal identity in the face of conflicting messages about our worth."

She later wrote: "The collective values of black people find their uniqueness in the far-reaching history of slavery. Black values are ultimately centered on the keys to survival."

Hope said often black audiences find that story of survival hard to deal with. "I found that so many people do not acknowledge that they came from Africa," she said. "They say that my grandparents were born here, and I don't know nothing about it. I try in my way to let them know that more than 100,000 slaves came here from Africa, and that we were exploited."

Ladner's book says in the old days nearly every African-American adult, parent or otherwise, shouldered the responsibility of being a role model to the young. In most communities, even those who led less than righteous lives-drunks and hustlers-tried to teach children:

Those values, she states, sustain African Americans until this day. They are embodied in the Kwanzaa principles and values, celebrated from December 26 to New Year's Day. Many African Americans use the cultural feast that highlights values and unity as an alternative to more commercial, European-originated customs tied to Christmas.

Maulana Ron Karenga, a professor of African-American history at California State University, Long Beach, founded the seven-day fest in 1966, after the 1965 Watts riots. He wanted an activity that might prod African Americans to re-focus annually. Karenga shaped the celebration around the West African harvest feast. He encouraged participants to learn to speak Swahili, a widely spoken African language. The movement started small, but took hold. Today it is the most widespread black celebration of values outside of church. Throughout the nation during the week between Christmas and the New Year, large groups gather daily to consider the Nguzo Saba, which in Swahili means seven principles. Those are:

Hope said audiences find similar values to those cited by Ladner and Karenga in her presentations, but the appearance shows more than her artistic skills. She says, "I contribute that to be from the Holy Spirit allowing me to become that person and assume their values."

Hope says something happens on stage. "The presentation is driven by the Creator allowing me to pick up the points that He feels the people in the community should know," she said. "I have had no acting lessons. I haven't had anybody to write the scripts. He had me to go to the library and read, read, read. Then He came back and allowed me to put together each of the scripts and the songs that I am to sing. Many people have told me that they can see a change in me when I get on the stage."

Her views were confirmed a while back when some spiritualists attended a performance in Columbus, Ohio. "They witnessed my performance and they told me that Harriet and Sojourner were so pleased with what I did that they were encouraging me to keep on presenting their lives."

The woman's face lit up. "So you know that really made me feel good," she said. "Oh, I tell you."

Hope came to Rochester's Memorial African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church to portray Tubman, the most outstanding conductor on the Underground Railroad, a 19th century movement used to lead runaway slaves to freedom. The March 10 performance anchored New York State's first designated Harriet Tubman Day celebration. The real Tubman, whose exploits earned her the nickname, "Moses," died in 1913 in Auburn, New York.

Gov. George Pataki's proclamation noted "her remarkable courage in helping slaves find their way to freedom." The financially conservative Republican said, "We are honored that she made her home in New York."

The sentiment was backed up by Gov. Pataki with the announcement of a $284,000 grant to restore the Tubman home. The property, owned and managed by the A.M.E. Zion denomination, was more than a private home. In later life, the former Underground Railroad conductor and advisor to Frederick Douglass, housed former slaves there.

The storyteller's depth of emotion toward Tubman and the other characters she portrays draws strength from her religion. She is a United Methodist, and began her career performing in churches; her other wellspring is experience.

"I grew up with a family that was very spiritual," she said. "From the time that my aunt raised my sister and I, we were always in the Methodist church and were reading the Bible. I discovered at 13 years old that I just loved to read the Bible and I just loved to say the words and make people believe that I knew what I was doing. It has carried over all of these years, whenever I have been allowed to be a presenter."

Hope is quick to note the influence of the values she learned as a youth. "Most of the children grew up during the time when you had to help each other," she said. "I had an aunt who was deaf and blind who finished West Virginia State College and got her master's from Columbia. Then I had an aunt who was a graduate of Howard University. These were my father's sisters."

Racially segregated schools and neighborhoods once isolated black children from the values taught by the broader U.S. society. That was before the 1954 victory in Brown v. The Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas.

Throughout the latter half of the 20th century, the majority of black youths sought access to white-run colleges and universities. Black public schools, formerly under more direct black control, were taken over by white-dominated school boards.

On top of that were marked declines in traditional family structures and attitudes toward church. Some black historians and sociologists say that is where African Americans went wrong.

Hope said her parents' generation, whose lives stretch back into the early 20th century, were far more grounded. "There were 13 children," she said of her father's family, "eight girls and five boys." Her father, Leander C. Holley, was the thirteenth child.

She said he had a good job, as an employee for Pittsburgh Steel. "He had saved somebody from falling into the paint (vat) and he was very well thought of," Hope explained.

"I had an uncle on my father's side of the family who was a lawyer," she said. "And then I had the aunt who graduated from Howard in home economics, and she was a 4-H agent during the time that we were growing up."

Hope was born Marie Holley. Her mother died at age 32. She and her sister were ages 12 and 11 respectively. An aunt, Hattie Holley Heath, of Taswell, Virginia, raised them, and is still a source of inspiration. On July 25, she turns 100.

"We stayed with my grandmother initially, but my grandmother already had a grandson she was caring for, and she didn't want the responsibility of having to also raise two young girls," Hope explained. So the girls went to Virginia. The storyteller said her aunt-turned-mother was a pioneer schoolteacher who taught until she was misplaced during desegregation in the South. "Through the years she has been retired she remained prominent in the community on various boards," Hope said. "She still can talk and can remember."

She said her father eventually remarried and put both girls through college. "My sister went to Virginia State in Petersburg," she said. "I finished Bennett College (Greensboro, NC)." Hope and her sister, a medical technician, are now retired.

Hope makes direct use of many elements from her life story in a presentation called "Hattie Mae Remembers." After graduating from Bennett with a teaching degree, she started as the sole instructor, grades 1 to 8, for 28 black children in a one-room school at a coal mining camp in Jewell Ridge, Virginia. "There was a white camp and a black camp," she recalled. She said audiences like that performance, too.

"It is the one that I have done the least, but senior citizens, and even schools where I have done it, relate to the props," she explained. Those include an old fashion slop jar, which in the era of outhouses were used as indoor toilets; an old washboard; some homemade soap; some coal from the camp where she taught from 1951 to 1954; an 8-pound old fashioned iron and asperity bags once worn by children to ward off sicknesses. "They smelled terrible," Hope said, "but our parents and grandparents had us wear them around our necks."

In real life, the school was one of many segregated schools throughout the South. She said the environment was crude, but that was the only option allowed by the white-run Taswell County Board of Education. "I had a pot belly stove," she recalled. "My schoolhouse was a regular house with the partitions torn out." On the upside, she said, "It was the only school in the mining camp with running water, with piped water inside the house. The rest of the houses used buckets of water drawn from a pump in the middle of the camp." On Sundays, two different churches held services there, Pentecostal and Baptist.

Hope moved to Columbus in 1954 to work on a master's degree in elementary education at Ohio State University. "I had tried to see if I would be accepted, coming from a school down south," she said. Credits from some southern colleges, particularly historically black schools, were not always accepted in predominately white universities.

"I was fortunate that Bennett's accreditation permitted me to work on my masters without doing extra work." She graduated in 1954, the same year Ohio State first granted the Masters of Arts degree in elementary education.

Hope taught 35 years in the Columbus schools. She retired at age 59 on disability. She left the classroom 14 years ago, but says she hopes to continue to share knowledge about African Americans and point out the injustices and the legacy of slavery. After all, that's the root of black values.