Beenya Soul
beenya - a Gullah term meaning "been here"
Prologue
Before We were born, Soul Friends called Guides told us our purpose, our voyage, our heartache, our many reincarnations, and the soul of a young woman, an ascended master healer, who would free us.
We came to say a prayer for you as . . .
We walked through a light fog with misting rain and thick green woods of bald cypress trees heavily laced with Spanish moss. The plants flourished in these swampy, wet habitats found along the shores of the coastlines of the Atlantic Ocean. Marshalled north in cargo ships crisscrossing the wide belly of the South Atlantic Ocean from their original native habitat, Central and South America, some plants fell sickly, withered, others died, and a handful survived. Those that survived captivity, multiplied from the germination of their seeds tossed onto foreign shores. Bark cracks, crevices and branch crotches provided places where the airborne seeds lodged and germinated.
We witnessed our fate as the descendants of enslaved Africans of various ethnic groups who lived in this Lowcountry—planted here by the ship's cargo handlers—tethered together in a lineage of spent human souls who yielded seedpods that turned brown and split open when they withered toward death, releasing feather seeds that floated on wind currents, carrying the seeds of sin.
We carried our destiny as the heirs to this forced migration from our homeland on the coast of Africa. We journeyed with our prayer . . . for the ship, the Commerce, for Captain Thomas Morton, and for the souls, upwards to 203 prime slaves. We mastered the yoking of nature to the surreal of our grief, pain, fear, and rage. The karmic cycles of our generations echoed, living through creation, preservation, and destruction until the mixing of our races birthed Tula who ratcheted our healing journey of grace into a smooth closure.
Our prayer answered.
This is our story.