by Lola Campbell

I’m what they’d call a Saltwater Geechee, born and raised on Hilton Head Island, a barrier island located on the lower east coast of the United States, in the South Carolina Lowcountry – in the middle of the Gullah Geechee Corridor.

I’ve often been the only one in the room – the only woman, the only African American, the only identifying as both. If it weren’t for the strength of my ancestors and the love of my family, I would not have been able to move forward and past being the only one in the room.

Following are stories of the people who made me.

My Grandmother Susan Young Campbell (Paternal – Hilton Head Island)

My grandma Susan used to hum church hymns all the time – while doing whatever she was doing – washing dishes, folding clothes, cooking. It was so soothing. Although she died when I was 5, I remember her really well. She was my, and my cousin Derrick’s, caregiver before we went to preschool.

My Grandfather Solomon Christopher Campbell Jr. (Paternal – Hilton Head Island)

My grandfather Bubba was a craftsman. He built and repaired boats and houses and made tombstones. He was known as a tinkerer, sort of like my son is today. I loved spending time with him. I remember him putting wood in the wood-burning heater to keep the house warm and stewing fish to eat with sweet potatoes.

That was my favorite meal to eat with him. I think it may have been his favorite meal, period. Every time I ate that meal after he passed, I thought about him. When he passed and no longer cooked that meal, I learned to love it all over again from my father, who cooked it slightly differently, and with white rice instead of taters. And now he’s gone too.

I watched them both prepare the fish but have yet to try it myself. Hmmm, maybe it’s time I do so.

My Father Solomon Christopher Campbell III (Hilton Head Island)

My mother always said that I was the second boy daddy had wished for in life. I liked to get dirty as a child. Mud pies, worms, fishing, crabbing, bogging in the mud on the walk across the Point – all things I enjoyed, especially fishing on the rock (a honey hole in Sea Pines that Daddy and Uncle Leroy frequented). I caught my first flounder there. My dad was amazed because it took skill and a certain “bait dragging” capability to catch a flounder. Lucky for me I was just impatient and kept reeling in the line from boredom.

My Great-Grandparents Charlie and Lucy Hutchins (Isle of Hope, Georgia)

They had a still in the woods behind their house (where my mother and father were married) and were known for the “good” moonshine in the neighborhood. I only knew them once Grandpa Charlie was pretty sick and living in a nursing home near Memorial Hospital in Savannah, and Grandma Lucy was in a wheelchair with both legs amputated (as a result of diabetes).

She was always sitting in the first room to the left if we walked in the front door, but right off the kitchen if we walked in through the back (which was normal). She’d be smiling or nodding in and out of sleep. I visited Grandpa Charlie occasionally, with my Grandma Nerva, who I didn’t know until later in life was his stepdaughter. I could never see a difference. They both, in their old age, and convalescence, were always glad to see the great-grands. I could tell from the bright smile of their eyes.

The stories that everyone told about him (and Grandma Lucy) made me wish I had had the opportunity to know them in their thriving years, when people would line up, sometimes knocking at the door of their home on Grimball Point Road in the wee hours of the morning, to buy a nickels’ or quarters’ worth of “white lightning.” Lu was the salesperson and Charlie was the craftsman.

Lu sat in the dining room by what was referred to as the “steel window” (made out of black steel). It partially wrapped around from the front of the home to the side, and part of it opened. She loved sitting there by the open window, as opposed to in front of the fixed window in the living room.

The still was in the chicken coop. One night there was an explosion behind the house. To most of the family’s surprise, it was the chicken coop! The funny part of the story is that none of the family knew about its existence – except Grandpa Charlie, of course.

The “Hideaway” – The Grimball Point House

Many teachers and others in society would frequent the hideaway where they could buy moonshine, play cards, etc. And they were “safe” there. They all came to see “Mama Lu.” 

Cussing the Ghost

Lu took my mom out to get some liquor for a patron late one night. She’d hide the liquor in the ground out near the chicken coop. While out there, all of a sudden, she poured some liquor on the ground and said, “Alright James Tattner, take dis liquor and gon’ ’bout ya business.” Mr. James Tattner, who had just passed not too long before this, was a former customer of Mama Lu’s. She explained to my mother that that’s what you do when you feel the presence of a late person’s spirit.

The Turtle Incident

“John, John! Stop the car!”

“What Mary?!”

“Issa turtle! Get ’em!”

Uncle John, who was married to my Aunt Mary (my grand aunt, daughter of Charlie and Lucy), stopped the car just as we were about to cross the small bridge onto Isle of Hope. Aunt Mary got out of the car, with Uncle John following. They both scuffled to get the turtle into a bucket, which I have no idea where it came from. Some cousins and I were in the back, giddy with excitement and feeling really entertained. Later that night, some partook in turtle soup.

My Grandmother Minerva Martin Hunter (Maternal)

My fondest memories with Grandma Nerva are going to work with her as a kid. She was a janitor at Savannah State College, along with her first cousin Estell (“Moco”). Each of them was assigned to a dormitory but would help each other clean their respective assigned buildings. This is such a representation of who we are as Gullah people – always a village – helping one another in any way possible. The best part of the day, other than taking a nap in the empty dorm rooms, and getting to hang out with cool college girls, was lunch time. I swear we had a spread like dinner – most likely the leftovers from dinner the night before – fried chicken, mac and cheese, red rice, etc. I don’t ever remember having anything that resembled a sandwich or salad, or anything that we’d call “lunch” today. We had what my son would call “real food.”

Summertime meant half the break in Rochester, New York, where my Aunt Jacquie and her family lived, and the other half down South. My cousins from New York would come for the down South part too, and Grandma Nerva was our babysitter in both places (after her retirement from Savannah State).

Every trip we took, we had Grandma Nerva with us. My paternal grandmother died when I was 5, so I spent a considerable amount of time with this maternal grandmother.

My Mother, Della Mae Hunter Campbell

Mama is the only one of this bunch (of those who made me) who is still living. I cherish and adore her. I’m grateful to my Uncle Irvin (my daddy’s first cousin), who was dating (and later married) my late Aunt Carolyn (best friend of my mama since childhood) for introducing my parents to each other. If he hadn’t done so, I most certainly would not be who I am today, and Della Mae (named after her paternal grandmother) would not be my mama.

The most vivid childhood memory I have about Mama is one that includes Aunt Carolyn as well. We used to go crabbing at the Point (now the Spanish Wells Pier at the back of the Oakview neighborhood) every summer – Mama, Aunt Carolyn, my sister Trice, my cousins Landy, Jaron, and Martin, and me. In fact, that’s where we, the kids, learned how to crab, and to respect the waterways. At low tide, Mama would take the pole end of the dip net to test the depth of the creek and forge a safe path for us to walk across. And we’d follow in a line, keeping an eye on where the person in front was stepping. What an adventure that was for me – for us! Across the creek was where we believed most of the crabs to be. We had to go back home with a full bucket so we could have a proper crab boil – and not get teased by the family waiting to partake in our day’s catch.

About Me