Three Days on Ancestral Land: What the Gullah Geechee Herbal Gathering Taught Me

Gullah Geechee Herbal Gathering

Every year, the Gullah Geechee Herbal Gathering on Johns Island reminds me what matters. This was my third or fourth time back, and it did that again. There was no gathering last year, and I felt a little off without it. It rained all weekend, but being back on ancestral land for three days, I still came home with a full notebook, a few bags from the marketplace, and a clearer head.

Friday: Arriving and Listening

I rolled in around 3:00 with a tent I wasn't sure I'd use. The sky was overcast, and the rain was already on its way, and it stayed all weekend. Since I live about an hour away, I figured I'd go home at night. I spent my first hour in the marketplace, where makers had come from all over.

I brought home a hand-printed seasonal field guide from the Wild Druid, who publishes a quarterly zine out of Chicago. It features a plant, foraging safety, recipes, and tree ID, all in a hand-drawn style. I'd love to create something like it for the Lowcountry someday, and I plan to ask Shane for his blessing and learn about his process before I start. I also picked up hand-twisted amber myrrh incense from House of Lukaya, an indigo dye set and a drinkable indigo elixir from Nebedaye Farms, body care from the Wild Druid's sister, and shampoo bars and jelly masks from Beautifully Simple Soap LLC.

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The opening ceremony set a clear, honest tone for the weekend: this gathering centers the Gullah Geechee community and its work to carry traditions forward and repair generational harm.

That evening, we crossed to Ancestor Island to call in the ancestors. I honored the ancestors of the land and the people who stood with the Gullah Geechee. It was humbling, and I'm grateful I was allowed to be there.

Saturday: Elders and Roots

I spent the first session with Mama Ifetayo, a Reiki practitioner from St. Helena. She didn't start her path until her fifties and has kept going back to school every few years since. She's now 81 and still adding to it. She taught us to lay hands on ourselves instead of doing it for us, and shared simple practices:

• Cross your arms and tap your shoulders in a steady rhythm to release stress.

• Breathe in healing energy a few minutes once or twice a day, and ask it to go where it's needed.

• Ask yourself what you're feeding your body and your mind.

• Remember that intention matters more than words or technique.

Next was a session on the plants that traveled between Barbados and the Carolinas. It traced how the Barbados rice trade brought many of the enslaved Africans who became the Gullah Geechee. We talked about the plants that made the journey, and how marsh plants often serve the lymphatic and respiratory systems, much like a marsh cleans its surroundings.

Then I sat in on Dr. Cyrus's session on the Sierra Leone connection. He spoke about West African herbal medicine practiced long before 1200 AD, and how plants like kola nut, grains of paradise, palm oil, benne, okra, and cotton traveled the trade routes. In his lab work, many of the plants he tested proved useful in traditional ways. He also shared that clay country pots, seasoned by years of use and little scrubbing, were said to make better medicine. And he reminded us that as we lose trees, we lose teachers.

Sunday: Indigo

Baba Bernard taught Indigo Connections. We handled powdered jelu, a West African indigo, and turned our hands blue. He explained that the vat needs to be yellow-green rather than blue to dye, and that you need a high pH and a reducing agent. He also told us that over 700 plants contain indigo and that you can get one to six harvests a season. I put my name in his notebook for growing advice and help, and I plan to grow indigo, moringa, and henna together.

I missed the group photo and the closing because of a schedule change I didn't hear about. It stung a little, but it taught me a lesson for my own events: post changes where people can find them.

What I'm Carrying Home

A reminder that it's never too late to find your path, a stack of reading and films to explore, and a deeper sense that the plants around us carry stories we're only beginning to learn. The rain never dimmed it.