next stop - Denver

So wow, not even two weeks in to my trip and I feel like I have found a bigger part of me. And it's so simple all I am doing is spending time with family. If only other things were so simple.

Arriving in Denver was confusing to say the least. I had talked to my first cousin who lives there the night I left Vancouver, telling her I would be there in the next couple of weeks. It was refreshing speaking with her because she, unlike a lot of my family members, likes to talk. I could tell her and I both were looking forward to meeting each other for the first time.

When I was in Pilot Hill I called her to tell her Denver was my next stop, she was surprised and said she wasn't expecting me that early, I told her I didn't have to stop in Denver as I do not expect family members to drop their lives for me as I make my way through the borders of america. She said,

'call me when I get there' we hung up with an awkwardness that left a bad taste in my mouth.

Does that mean she wants me to stop? Does that mean she will see if she is free once I call, but she might not be?

The train ride from Sacramento to Denver was amazing, but as I approached Denver and it was night time, I became nervous. I left her a message stating my train was arriving at 7:15 and to please call me back so I know whether I am staying or going as I did not want to be stuck in a city I didn't know at night. When I didn't hear from her by 6:30pm I informed the conductor that I might not being staying in Denver and asked if I had time in Denver to run out and buy a ticket to continue on to Chicago. He said there was plenty of time and that he would keep an eye out for me.

When we pulled in to Denver, I still hadn't heard from my cousin, so I ran out to buy my ticket to Chicago. Just enough time to run and come back on the train. As I sat down, I thought I heard my name, I looked around and thought perhaps it was a slight auditory hallucination. 5 Seconds later I see the conductor standing above me asking me if my name was _____________, I looked up and saw my cousin whom I have never met before standing there with her arms crossed, all she said was,

'you need to be more patient'

I didn't say anything, I said hello, it was kind of an embarrassing moment as the conductor helped me pull my luggage from above and my cousin sucking her lips at me.

We had to hurry as the train was pulling out in less than a minute and trust me, they don't wait.

My cousin was shaking her head talking about patience, we got to some other amtrak employees and they were asking my cousin,

'is this her?' she was like

'yep'

she was walking ahead of me the whole time, then I was trying to explain to her that I had called and didn't hear from her and she was explaining to me that she had asked me to call her when I got in, I told her that I did call her earlier and that I had concerns about being stranded in a city at night, then she went on telling me she wouldn't do that to me I was family and how she left an hour early to be there for me and then I told her, no she needed to listen to me and arms were flailing, heads were shaking, there were tsks, moans, darting eyes, side glances, grimaces, raised voices all the way to her car.

When we got in her car, we were silent, she was driving, I was a passenger. Two strangers, who are family sitting there beside one another in silence.

Then we both started laughing, we were making fun of each other and how we were trying to prove our points, we were both like 'wow' I guess both of us are strong women, it's a McDaniel trait.

We laughed for the whole night, it was a holiday the next day so she had the day off.

We spent the whole day together talking about relationships, family, what we have been through, our likes and dislikes, listening to music, had a picnic in the park. I was expecting Denver to have snow and be freezing, but I had my tanktop on that day walking around.

She told me lots of stories of growing up with Grandma and Grandpa 'cause she was raised by them.

Let me tell you this, it brings tears to my eyes to have met her. She is family. Straight up. I can see parts of myself in her, she was talking about how much I am like my Dad, his mannerisms, they way I talk, how I look.

I don't think I have ever had a true mentor in my life. Someone who has been through similar things in my life, and now is older. She has been through a lot and she only has positive things to say about everything, but she is REAL. Her and I could talk about religion, politics, family, relationships, racism and be on the same page. She has so much energy and I feel like I have learned so much about myself and let me tell you, I am so happy to have met her.

She is my cousin, she is old enough to be my mother, but looks young enough to be me sister.

I will never forget her energy, her thoughts, her love and the day we shared together.

We keepin' in touch fo sho.

Much love

train of thoughts

Some excerpts from a two day trip heading east from California to Colorado:

The myraid of landscapes and everchanging topographies between a few states is astounding. I passed through California, through to Nevada, through Utah and now Colorado. The first part of the trip was deep canyons and glacier lakes, then a bit of tundra and a river and mountains and sprinkling of golden/crimson trees, then the desert, dry, massive, sculptural, then hitting a river and some plant life again. There are a lot of tunnels we are passing through, one tunnel is said to be 6 miles long, not sure how long that is in kilometres.

Okay, just passing this huge boulder of a cliff/mountain right in the Utah desert. It is MASSIVE. I have never seen landscape like this. We just entered Colorado and now are following the Colorado River. There are supposed to be bald eagles and their nests hanging about in this area. I have never had to change my time everyday to an hour ahead before, heading east by train is a trip.

Did you know that if you just ate almonds the body could survive off of those alone? They have large amounts of fibre, protein, large dose of vitamin E and some vitamin A and magnesium, phosphorus, calcium and iron. Who needs overpriced, mediocre train food?

Ahhh, the train... bathrooms that don't work, whole cars that smell like the sewer. Lights that stay on all night, stops at 3:00am in the middle of nowhere, seats in front of you that are broken and squeak under the person's weight.

Riding through the mountains, at dusk, waking up at 5:00am to see the sky lit up with purple and pink light.

Moms curled up with their babies and children sleeping on the floor, mothers and daughters of all different ages traveling together, playing games, teaching each other math and other abstract concepts. Women knitting, yes people still knit.

Stopped in a RANDOM gift shop in Grandjunction which is at an elevation of 4000 and something in between Utah and Colorado. You could get spam, plastic action figures, amethyst rocks, postcards and turquoise 'Navajo'rings. I just got a cup of noodles.

I tried to strike up some conversation with an Amish family, but one of them ended up asking me if my hair was real - yes even the Amish ask stupid questions. But I got them back by scaring them as I reached out to touch their baby, they were holding their breath the whole time, but baby liked me.

hmmm any similarities? what should i be for hallow' ween?

Payeto Payaso

I was on a hunt to find black and white film while in Rancho and was in a drug store and saw a disturbing image (candies that were being sold in the store) that brought some flashbacks to a time when I was living in Mexico.

Everyone would call me Payeto Payaso and at first I didn't know what that meant, but then someone told me it was a local candy there and it meant chocolate clown. Being young I was flattered at the time, until I saw the image of the candy wrapper. At first what I thought was an innocent play on chocolate and my skin tone and later realised it was perhaps a deeper racist comment of buffoonery and stereotypes.

Rancho Cucamonga

The beginning of my trip started in Rancho Cucamonga which is about 30 miles west of Los Angeles. I Arrived at night and had greens, turkey neck and some mac and cheese waiting for me. Rancho is 30 degrees celcius or more. Because it is the winter months, I did not pack shorts with me. So I chose the only skirt I brought and wore that the two days I was there. The Aunt that I stayed with is the only sister of my Dad's that is alive. This Aunt of mine turned 67 while I was there so I was able to celebrate her birthday with her and my cousin, we went bowling. She was full of energy jumping and skipping down the bowling alley lane getting many strikes and averaging at a high score. 10 pin bowling at that.

I spent some time with my cousin, my Aunt's second to eldest daughter, she is very sweet and we definitely bonded, we were able to catch up on many things.

My Aunt and her are Christians, so they are involved with their church on a daily basis it seems through conferences, bible study and volunteering, etc. and of course praying before meals. All new to me. My Aunt was great at remembering stories about family life, I was able to get many family pictures from her as well.

Off to a good start.

oh yah

I realised that most of you do not know where I am planning on going. I do have the trip all planned out geographically wise, but I am flexible.

So, I started in California to see people I already know, my Dad's immediate family, then I am moving east, then south, then east, then north.

If I had a map it would be easier to show.

I am done in California,

I went to Denver

Now I am in Chicago for fun

Then I head to Kansas City, then to Arkansas, then to Texas, then to New Olreans to visit friends and see what's happening there in reguards to Katrina.

Then to Atlanta for fun, then to South Carolina, then to Pennsylvania, then New York.

All by train - yes, all by train.

Keep on keeping on

A week ago I was visiting a friend in the bay area who lives in a predominantly black neighbourhood. He used to organise in the Bay View area and since he knows my obsession with black communities and gentrification he suggested we go check out Bay View along with Hunter's Point. I had never heard of Bay view or Hunter's Point before, but heard people speak of certain black neighborhoods that have been gentrified creating more of an exodus with a decrease in the black population year after year.

When we were on the train to visit the area, this was when I learned the very train we were on,

Third Street Light Rail Line,

had been one of the reasons the community has changed.

The train goes right through 3rd street. The construction of the train moved out businesses, etc. that were owned by OR were popular hang out places of the local residents. Of course the area isn't being 'revitalised' for the folks who have lived there for over 50 years, but for the new residents – hence the condo development that goes hand in hand with the train track construction.

We got off earlier than our destination point so my friend who hadn't been there for a while could see which businesses were still there. I found the area to be a tight knit community, lots of folks on the streets, fathers and daughters holding hands taking walks, magnificent murals, young boys taking their little sisters out to play, barber shops, bakeries, lotsa soul food, people conversing, a stunning community centre, manicured walkways and lanes. We walked further and heard music, which was coming from a side street and there was a small crowd watching, dancing and listening to several men playing drums right in front of their home. In the middle of the street was a huge compost and fresh greens growing. Next we arrived at a community garden that was right along 3rd avenue that was built on a steep hill and being supported by tires.

Of course if you ask an ignorant San Franciscan what they will have to say about Hunter's Point, they will say it is full of gangs and homeless and there isn't much going on and in fact warn people to stay away from the area.

The black population is declining steadily not just in this area, but all over the bay area. Not declining as much as being displaced. We don't disappear. We WONT disappear.

There was a huge migration in the 1940's that brought many African Americans to the bay area after WWI for blue collar jobs – in fact my Dad's immediate family was indirectly part of that migration. They didn't reside directly in the bay area, but near by at a town called Seaside, not sure if it's called that anymore. Obviously folks back then weren't moving due to 'job opportunities' but more of a way to escape imminent racism in the south. Bay View at the time was for whites only and Hunter's Point was where black folks were housed close to their work at the shipyard, but that changed.

Well, my friend and I ended up at the Jazz Room for a beer and most folks were my Dad's age, which means the music was fanTABulous. Al Green, The O Jays, Roberta Flack, Sam Cooke, Micheal Jackson, The Gap Band, Minnie Ripperton and various other oldies that you rarely get to hear unless in the comforts of your own home.

We sat at the bar and sang along with everyone, grooving in our bar stools. Just goes to show

- us folks, you can take us away from our motherland, you can enslave us, you can make us migrate, you can displace us; and we'll keep on moving to the music –

Or music at that.

Training Wheels

Trains have been on my mind a lot lately.

Maybe because I have been sitting on one for two days...but seriously, even before this trip I have thought about what and who they transport, who migrated where to build the tracks, who was forced to migrate to another place to make way for the tracks. The land that was built up or destroyed and disrespected to clear the way. Which communities lost pieces of land that was dear to them, how people's way of living was altered or how people are prevented access to ancestral resources – just to think about all the history that was lost due to train track construction, maintenance and usage. How much noise they make, how much pollution they create and how unsafe trains have been to children who need to get to school for example or for mothers and fathers who need to get to work; and how they continue to affect and change the communities they are built close to.

One of my first posts mentions where I grew up, Tsimshian had their own experiences with the construction of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway. To further educate yourself you can read article at link below.

http://www2.brandonu.ca/library//CJNS/10.1/mcdonald.pdf.

This article basically describes how European Settlers did not realise how folks were already making use of the land and wanted to 'foster' economic development in the area with the railway for agricultural, mining and forestry. Reserves were bought for ridiculous prices, people were forced to leave their homes on to smaller reserves, there were issues around trespassing as well as taking resources without permission like gravel and timber. The most mind boggling thing was when the 'ignorants' wanted to start blasting at graveyard sites and basically after a long, unfair battle, Tsimshian ended up digging up the graves of their loved ones to move them to another place so the railroad construction could continue. Of course the settlers were nice and paid them for their labour. How sweet.

I know Chicago like the back of my hand...

just kidding.

had a freak out today realising i was in a city that i didn't know at all, was lost for a bit, and was beside myself, mostly because i had been on a train for two days and could smell myself.

but then i got a room at a hostel, walked away from the financial district to greek town and had a mushroom burger on a pretzel bun. MMMMMMMMMMMm Naomi is happy again and is showered.

Cool, population 2,250

Where is she anyways?

I know, I just keep sharing my thoughts, but ya'll don't know where I am.


Right now, I am in Pilot Hill, California way up in the mountains visiting my Dad's brother, a dear Uncle of mine, an Aunt and a cousin and his family.

Where is Pilot Hill? It is in the mountains where there are few satellite signals, where there are rattlesnakes and wild turkeys. It is a place where if you are walking on a path you will find tarantulas and if you look up in the sky you will see nothing but trees and blue and all you can hear is the river.

It is where I discovered the unknown. That an Uncle of mine lived in his shed for years while he built the house he lives in now. It is where there is a Llama named Ruby who has pretty eyes and where oaks grow in groves. It is where you can watch the waning moon rise over the mountains and drink water from the well and it is THE BEST TASTING WATER EVER!

Pilot Hill is also a town that is 2 miles (cannot use kilometers anymore) away from a town called Cool. Yes, A town called cool. Also, my cousin who is taking a linguistics class was telling me the other day that cool is a word a 'slang' word that has survived four generations of use and has percolated in to many different languages and cultures on an international level. The word cool really is an example of how much people appropriate from the African Diaspora.

Cool!

I think...

Another name for Thesaurus

This is for a friend of mine who wanted to know this answer.

As it is also perfect timing for a book I leant him.

Answer, Lexicon.

A few years back I had this dream, I was on a train and I distinctly remember the reverberating sound of the wheels and tracks - literally a reverberating sound. I was passing many black communities, but then I started passing slave auctions, people running for the train, I saw bi-racial women tied to posts like animals. At one point I remember getting out and I went in to a white merchant's store and he wouldn't serve me, all I wanted was to buy a pack of gum and I don't even chew gum.

Another dream involved me on a train again, but this time I was in a bigger car with more people, many different families, some were my family and some weren't. It's like time was moving in fast forward because they were getting on and off so fast that I couldn't keep up with who was who. Faces were changing and transforming before my eyes, but in every face I saw a part of me.

Did I subconciously know I would be getting on a train to research family history? One thing I know for sure is that my journey started way before this train ride. From my mother's womb, to watching the Cosby Show obsessively, to walking down the street with my Mom and hoping any black man I saw was my Father, to meeting my father for the first time, to my Mom sending me to California as a teenager to meet my Dad's immediate family, to going to Zambia, to researching how Vancouver's first black community was destroyed, to saving money for this trip four years ago - those are just a few pieces in the hay stack and the list goes on forever really.

I will tell you an interesting start to one of the pieces.

I only have one elder left in my family. I found out he is my Grandfather's youngest brother.

When he was four, my grandfather was 16. So he is my great uncle and he lives right in the middle of the divided states of america – Kansas City. I was very excited and got his number from my Aunt who is his niece, my Father's oldest sister - confused yet? I called him on a Sunday, not too early for church and not to late for dinner. This is how our phone conversation went.

“Hello”

“Hi, is this ________?”

“No”

“Are you a McDaniel”

“Yes I am, what do you want?”

“Hi, I am calling from Canada, my name is _____________, I am _____________ daughter. Your brother is my Grandfather.”

“What are you tryin' to do, look for your kinfolk?”

“Yes, I -”

“Well, I am eating my dinner.”

“Okay, what is a better time to call you back?” … “Hello...hello?”

He had hung up on me!

I started calling other family members in a panic, asking them if they could call him and explain who I was, but everyone was like, “Yep, thats Uncle ______!”

So I braved it out again, I mean, I had to see it from his perspective. He is 83, he lives alone in the south, he hasn't spoken with any of my Dad's immediate family for years after their migration, in fact, he has only met my Father once or twice. I am sure it was confusing for him, not to mention how much telemarketing companies pay their employees horrible wages to target the 'elderly'. For all he knows I was trying to sell him something or get his money.

Well, I know you are sitting on the edge of your seat so I will continue. I did strike up the courage to phone him again a few weeks later. I explained who I was again, I said I didn't want anything from him, but his stories, how I had saved up money to visit him and explained my trip. Well once he found out I was ________ daughter he was all giggles and full of jokes, in fact we spoke for an hour and I am more than welcome to come and visit him in Kansas City.

I have a few more cities to get to before his though...

There is always a time for 'firsts'

I have decided to start a list of firsts, because I have had a few of them so far:

Having someone fly a remote control police helicopter over and around me to 'cool me off.'

Being woken up in the middle of the night (2:00am) to someone asking me if I want to listen to christian music.

Encountering a sleep walker come in through my aunt's front door.

Having bean pie and a whiting fish sandwich.

Attending bible study.

Getting reamed out by an uncle whom I have never met before because I didn't introduce myself properly and how I should ask the lord to forgive me and guide me in to being a better person. (this took half an hour and it was about 7:30 in the morning as i lay in bed after my cousin handed me the phone)

I am on a train and I have been on many trains over the past week. I am on a quest you could say, a journey, a trip, to find out more about my family, my tribe and my history.

I come from a family of Diaspora.

Growing up in a small town on turtle island proved that to be true.

A town, I only knew as Terrace. Little did I know the name 'terrace' derived from the sediment deposits from glaciers over thousands of years ago that produced terraces - essentially creating a valley over the Skeen River. The river I knew as 'skeena' has another name, the K' shian River which means 'water from the clouds' (too bad I am learning this recently from wiki when someone could have answered these questions if I had asked)

A town that I would comfortably say is 'white' without acknowledging that the Tsimshian have lived there for thousands of years. Little did I know that internalized racism was so fierce in my tiny head. How could I contemplate my complex identity when all I wanted was to fit in with the white kids in school, even though it was the native kids who had my back when white girls wanted to pick fights with me.

A town where kermode bear was our mascot in high school, but we were too busy learning about the fantastic accomplishments of white settlers to understand true history and knowledge.

A town where salmon was given to my mom for our family to share along with fry bread.

I was blind, deaf and numb for a long time.

Asides from the white settlers that continue to capitalise on occupied territory - I know there is a deeper meaning to why I considered Terrace white, because my mom is white and my whole household was white - except for me.

So why is this significant? What does this have to do with anything?

Well, like I said, I come from a family of Diaspora and growing up in a small town on turtle island can testify to that.

This blog will be about my journey, who I meet along the way, and the information that I find about myself, my family and true history coming straight from my people's experiences(and by my people, I mean all of the African Diaspora on turtle island) - and of course the little or BIG quirks, questions and thoughts along the way.

I am on a train right now, so when did my journey start? I believe it started before this train trip, but I guess the physicality and the vastness of the locomotive can help materialise how extensive this journey is. Perhaps, I need this type of consistent movement so I can commit to finding the answers to some of my questions in the vastness of my mind coupled with the random settlements, communities and connections along the way.

My back is sore.

Sometimes I regret deciding to take the train all throughout the colonised states of america.

Did I mention my back is sore, my feet are swollen, the bathroom stinks, the water is expensive and that I'm hungry?

But then I look out the window and at the fields, the cows, the graffiti, the ocean, the hills, mountains, the sunsets and sunrises and the simplicity of how smooth the ride is and fast! The train car rocking me to sleep, then the switching of train tracks jolting me awake.

No stop lights or heavy traffic. I have my wool socks and converse shoes. I get to view scenery that I could never have see from a plane, or an automobile. I don't have to worry about driving, or expensive flights, just a direct route to the next destination - while I take the time to ponder, to reminisce, to dream of what the future holds, to be with myself and all my splendour and to write about my discoveries and adventures.

So yes, my back is sore, but my mind is wandering, my soul is stretching and I'm gonna get some insoles for my kicks.