Sankofa

The late Howell Caldwell smooching his wife, Ronnie’s Grandma, Thelma.

When Ronnie and I decided to begin the journey of having children, both of us decided to do our ancestry DNA tests as neither of our families were quite so sure what our heritage was. Ronnie’s ancestry mostly traced back to northwest Africa, Nigeria, Ghana, Sierra Leone. As I’ve been slowly learning more about his heritage, I came across the Akan concept of Sankofa, a word often translated as "go back and get it." The idea is simple:

Sometimes the wisdom we need to move forward is found by looking back.

When I think about Sankofa, I think about Ronnie's grandfather, Howell. Howell owned flower shops, but what he really seemed to cultivate was capability. When Ronnie was young, he wanted a fishing boat. Howell bought him a broken one and told him, "If you can get it floating, it's yours." Later, Ronnie wanted a car (before he was driving-age). Howell bought him a broken-down Volkswagen Beetle and told him, "If you can get it running, it's yours." And because Howell apparently possessed an elite grandfather sense of humor, he added, "If you get pulled over, I'll tell the police you stole it."

By today's standards, this might sound completely insane. But when Ronnie reflects on his childhood, those are the memories he treasures most. Not receiving a boat, but building one. Not being given transportation, but earning it. What strikes me now isn't the boat or the Beetle. It's the trust. Howell looked at a young boy and saw someone capable of more than the world might have expected of him. He handed Ronnie challenges that exceeded his abilities and then stepped back just enough for him to grow into them.

The result is the man I know today. If something breaks, Ronnie assumes it can be fixed. If he doesn't know how to do something, he assumes he can learn. Boats, cars, jet skis, bikes, ATVs, you name it. He approaches problems with a the kind of confidence that comes from decades of figuring things out. Since I've known him, he's made a hobby of finding things with potential, rolling up his sleeves, and turning them into something he loves. He isn't intimidated by a challenge because challenges were woven into the fabric of his childhood.

I think that's something previous generations understood that we've largely forgotten:

Confidence doesn't come from being told you're capable. It comes from collecting evidence that you are.

A broken boat. A stubborn engine. A project that feels just beyond your reach. The struggle is the point. The reward isn't the boat, the car, or the finished project. The reward is becoming the kind of person who believes they can figure things out.

These days, I find myself thinking about this when I watch Charlie trying to put on her shoes or work a toy free from wherever it's stuck. Every instinct in me wants to jump in and help, to make it easier, to make it faster. But then I think about Howell, and I wait. Not because struggle is enjoyable, but because competence is. There is a unique kind of pride that comes from doing something yourself, and I want my daughters to experience that feeling over and over again.

My hope for Charlie and Margaux is that I can give them their own version of a broken boat. Maybe it won't be a fishing boat or a Volkswagen. Maybe it will be applying to colleges, starting a business, learning to cook, navigating friendships, or discovering what they love. Whatever form it takes, I hope I remember the lesson: give them the raw materials, trust them with something slightly bigger than they are, and then let them surprise themselves.

That's the wisdom Sankofa invites us to reclaim.

Sometimes the future doesn't require a new answer. Sometimes it requires us to go back and retrieve an old one.

Where in your life do you need to embrace Sankofa right now?