It was a great occasion meeting your guys again. As many of you know I am somewhat a historian myself, nothing like our official historian; Dermal Nash, of course (smile) but one with the vision to realize that each moment of our lives (as former Buffalo-Soldiers) is a moment of history.
So being the case, I have taken it upon myself to record each moment of our coming together. considering the fact that each time we are blessed to meet, could very well be our last. So attached to this e-mail is photos of our 23rd Reunion held in Houston Texas, July 22nd to 26th.
http://mysankofa.shutterbugstorefront.com/g/24thrct-reunion09
So until we meet again,
Peace & Happiness.
Curtis "Kojo" Morrow
Former Buffalo-Soldier
The Video was conducted by Gail Emery and Darrel Nash concerning, Buffalo Soldiers, 1869 to 1951.
http://www.youtube.com/my_videos
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
My Dear Sister, Did You See Obama?
I'VE SEEN HIM... WE'VE SEEN PRESIDENT OBAMA!!!
By Mrs. Mary Ellen Ray
(expatriate living in Ghana)
“Did he bring the tickets yet?” Blanche asks. “I can make it at any time. AMA
(Accra Metropolitan Association) has blocked our street so the shop will be closed. I’ll
call you back.” An hour later, “Have the tickets arrived?” Blanche inquires. “Not yet
but Fenton just called and he has the tickets. He’ll be by a little later and soon as I
have them in hand, I’ll call you,” I assure her.
The tickets come late Friday afternoon. Tickets to attend the Farewell Ceremony for President Barack Obama and President John Atta Mills to be held “about 6pm” Saturday at the Jubilee Gate of Accra Int’l Airport. Fenton reports on the ticket hassle.
I call Blanche and then Jessica. “Great. What time?” Then I learn two more tickets for me are at the Holiday Inn Hotel, about two blocks from the airport. Jessica wants a ticket for her daughter. She’s up and out about 8:30 Saturday, planning to come to my house for her ticket, go to Holiday for the tickets, go home and prepare to meet us at the Jubilee Gate at 2:30. Traffic’s tight and the few side streets are blocked coming to my house, stuck for over an hour she decides to go to Holiday and get the extra tickets first. Two hours pass, unable to reach the hotel she finally makes it back home, three hours later, with no ticket, exhausted. She tells me, “Too bad, she’ll miss it but I won’t.”
Meanwhile Blanche finally makes it to my house and we start for Jubilee Gate. Arriving about 2:30, we find the road to Jubilee blocked with armed police guards.
When Blanche flashes our tickets we’re permitted to enter the roadway. As we arrive near the Jubilee we’re told by more armed police not to drive in, to park outside and walk to the entrance gates where we’re stopped by a protocol guy who examines the tickets and asks for a photo ID. I’m taken back; I had just removed my passport for safety reasons. Blanche gasps, “Oh darn! I just changed purses and left my passport in the other one.” “We’re American citizens and have been living in Ghana for many decades,” we protest. “Sorry ladies, but there’s no out for this…you must have some photo ID.” Unhappy, dumbfounded, yet determined, we walk back to the car, call Jessica to tell her to bring a photo ID…Jessica has her IDs and is on the way.
Blanche and I live in different parts of the city. I catch a taxi back to my house while Blanche speeds off to her home. Everywhere one looks folks are wearing Obama t-shirts or Obama-Mills t-shirts, small US and Ghana flags are fluttering from cars flying by, posters and huge billboards are displaying Obama, Obama and Mills, Obama and
Michele. Obama-mania is here.
I rush home, get my passport, call a taxi to return to Jubilee. Call Blanche and she’s on the way to Jubilee. We decide to meet at a side street that has been barred by armed guards. After showing our tickets and explaining our plight, we’re permitted to drive down this usually busy thoroughfare but now we/re the only car around, we wind our way back to Jubilee.
As we walk toward the gate’s entrance, there’s two lines of folks and I spy Jessica. “Jessica come,” we shout. points out that one of the lines is packed with Ghanaians and the other smaller line has a bunch of young white Americans. (We later learn they’re the new batch of Peace Corps volunteers). “The Ghanaians are grumbling,” Jessica tells us, “saying no one said to bring photo IDs and why are these white folks not made to stand with us. As usual, we’re at the back again.”
At the gate the same protocol guy throws up his hand, “You have to get back to the line” pointing toward the Ghanaians. “No, I told you we were going back for our passports,” I remind him. “And here we are.” “I can only let in two of you,” he retorts. “But we told you there was one more,” we urge, “and this one (Jessica) is from North Carolina.” “Oh, ok, come on in,” and he inspects Blanche and my passports, picks up Jessica’s ID and we hear him say, “You’re from Texas, so am I. Where in Texas” he asks eagerly.
Finally we inch inside the gates to join a mass of standing folks, packed buses waiting to unload, hundreds of Ghanaian and US armed security\. Facing us are the metal detectors and we line up to pass through
“United States of America’” hits our eyes, emblazoned on the President’s Air Force One gleaming white gigantic flying hotel. We’re momentarily stunned. Blanche and Jessica pull out cameras and start popping, taking turns shooting each of us with the
plane as background. A podium erected a few feet in front of the plane is crowded with media technicians and photographers. Folks are running toward the podium, blocked by waist-high barriers, the area is fast filling up. Its a little after 4pm; at least 2 more hours for Obama’s arrival.
Standing, we’re quickly surrounded as the airfield grows tight with folks. Everyone’s excited, cameras popping, carrying small US and Ghana flags, some stuck in their hair, others pinned on lapels, more t-shirts, colorful African cloth, plenty of laughter, shouts, chants. Now the drummers start their rhythms and singing begins. (Accra is Ga territory, a major tribe; the Ga word for “come” is “Ba”) so they’re singing “Obaba come on.” Old and young, all start dancing as they sing, stomping feet, shaking hips, laughing and cheering. It’s a party and we’re in the middle of it all as the excitement builds. The three of us confess we never thought we’d ever be caught in the midst of such a massive gathering yet here we are, exhilarated.
Chants grow in chorus, “Obama’s coming”. Obama rides up with Atta Mills, approaching
the podium as shouting, cheering, yelling, screaming and cameras explode. America’s national anthem as plays as Obama stands erect with his right hand over his heart, then Ghana’s national anthem rolls out. “Welcome to Ghana,” Mills starts his short speech.
Obama responds, speaks of their visit to the slave castle and its great importance for his family, all “Ghanaians, Africans and the rest of the world.
The short ceremony ends, Obama strolls around those gathered close to shake hands,
grabs Michele’s hand and they ascend the plane’s stairs where they stop at the top,
turn around to wave to us all, then security closes the door.
Air Force One’s engines start almost silently, taxis down the long runway, turns
around, takes off murmuring with an occasional click click from a blinking red
light and soars toward the sky, within seconds disappearing into the clouds. A moment
of silence before returning to normalcy as we trudge out the darkened airfield.
We’ve seen him. We’ve seen President Barack Obama!!
Thank you for sharing my sister.
Kojo
By Mrs. Mary Ellen Ray
(expatriate living in Ghana)
“Did he bring the tickets yet?” Blanche asks. “I can make it at any time. AMA
(Accra Metropolitan Association) has blocked our street so the shop will be closed. I’ll
call you back.” An hour later, “Have the tickets arrived?” Blanche inquires. “Not yet
but Fenton just called and he has the tickets. He’ll be by a little later and soon as I
have them in hand, I’ll call you,” I assure her.
The tickets come late Friday afternoon. Tickets to attend the Farewell Ceremony for President Barack Obama and President John Atta Mills to be held “about 6pm” Saturday at the Jubilee Gate of Accra Int’l Airport. Fenton reports on the ticket hassle.
I call Blanche and then Jessica. “Great. What time?” Then I learn two more tickets for me are at the Holiday Inn Hotel, about two blocks from the airport. Jessica wants a ticket for her daughter. She’s up and out about 8:30 Saturday, planning to come to my house for her ticket, go to Holiday for the tickets, go home and prepare to meet us at the Jubilee Gate at 2:30. Traffic’s tight and the few side streets are blocked coming to my house, stuck for over an hour she decides to go to Holiday and get the extra tickets first. Two hours pass, unable to reach the hotel she finally makes it back home, three hours later, with no ticket, exhausted. She tells me, “Too bad, she’ll miss it but I won’t.”
Meanwhile Blanche finally makes it to my house and we start for Jubilee Gate. Arriving about 2:30, we find the road to Jubilee blocked with armed police guards.
When Blanche flashes our tickets we’re permitted to enter the roadway. As we arrive near the Jubilee we’re told by more armed police not to drive in, to park outside and walk to the entrance gates where we’re stopped by a protocol guy who examines the tickets and asks for a photo ID. I’m taken back; I had just removed my passport for safety reasons. Blanche gasps, “Oh darn! I just changed purses and left my passport in the other one.” “We’re American citizens and have been living in Ghana for many decades,” we protest. “Sorry ladies, but there’s no out for this…you must have some photo ID.” Unhappy, dumbfounded, yet determined, we walk back to the car, call Jessica to tell her to bring a photo ID…Jessica has her IDs and is on the way.
Blanche and I live in different parts of the city. I catch a taxi back to my house while Blanche speeds off to her home. Everywhere one looks folks are wearing Obama t-shirts or Obama-Mills t-shirts, small US and Ghana flags are fluttering from cars flying by, posters and huge billboards are displaying Obama, Obama and Mills, Obama and
Michele. Obama-mania is here.
I rush home, get my passport, call a taxi to return to Jubilee. Call Blanche and she’s on the way to Jubilee. We decide to meet at a side street that has been barred by armed guards. After showing our tickets and explaining our plight, we’re permitted to drive down this usually busy thoroughfare but now we/re the only car around, we wind our way back to Jubilee.
As we walk toward the gate’s entrance, there’s two lines of folks and I spy Jessica. “Jessica come,” we shout. points out that one of the lines is packed with Ghanaians and the other smaller line has a bunch of young white Americans. (We later learn they’re the new batch of Peace Corps volunteers). “The Ghanaians are grumbling,” Jessica tells us, “saying no one said to bring photo IDs and why are these white folks not made to stand with us. As usual, we’re at the back again.”
At the gate the same protocol guy throws up his hand, “You have to get back to the line” pointing toward the Ghanaians. “No, I told you we were going back for our passports,” I remind him. “And here we are.” “I can only let in two of you,” he retorts. “But we told you there was one more,” we urge, “and this one (Jessica) is from North Carolina.” “Oh, ok, come on in,” and he inspects Blanche and my passports, picks up Jessica’s ID and we hear him say, “You’re from Texas, so am I. Where in Texas” he asks eagerly.
Finally we inch inside the gates to join a mass of standing folks, packed buses waiting to unload, hundreds of Ghanaian and US armed security\. Facing us are the metal detectors and we line up to pass through
“United States of America’” hits our eyes, emblazoned on the President’s Air Force One gleaming white gigantic flying hotel. We’re momentarily stunned. Blanche and Jessica pull out cameras and start popping, taking turns shooting each of us with the
plane as background. A podium erected a few feet in front of the plane is crowded with media technicians and photographers. Folks are running toward the podium, blocked by waist-high barriers, the area is fast filling up. Its a little after 4pm; at least 2 more hours for Obama’s arrival.
Standing, we’re quickly surrounded as the airfield grows tight with folks. Everyone’s excited, cameras popping, carrying small US and Ghana flags, some stuck in their hair, others pinned on lapels, more t-shirts, colorful African cloth, plenty of laughter, shouts, chants. Now the drummers start their rhythms and singing begins. (Accra is Ga territory, a major tribe; the Ga word for “come” is “Ba”) so they’re singing “Obaba come on.” Old and young, all start dancing as they sing, stomping feet, shaking hips, laughing and cheering. It’s a party and we’re in the middle of it all as the excitement builds. The three of us confess we never thought we’d ever be caught in the midst of such a massive gathering yet here we are, exhilarated.
Chants grow in chorus, “Obama’s coming”. Obama rides up with Atta Mills, approaching
the podium as shouting, cheering, yelling, screaming and cameras explode. America’s national anthem as plays as Obama stands erect with his right hand over his heart, then Ghana’s national anthem rolls out. “Welcome to Ghana,” Mills starts his short speech.
Obama responds, speaks of their visit to the slave castle and its great importance for his family, all “Ghanaians, Africans and the rest of the world.
The short ceremony ends, Obama strolls around those gathered close to shake hands,
grabs Michele’s hand and they ascend the plane’s stairs where they stop at the top,
turn around to wave to us all, then security closes the door.
Air Force One’s engines start almost silently, taxis down the long runway, turns
around, takes off murmuring with an occasional click click from a blinking red
light and soars toward the sky, within seconds disappearing into the clouds. A moment
of silence before returning to normalcy as we trudge out the darkened airfield.
We’ve seen him. We’ve seen President Barack Obama!!
Thank you for sharing my sister.
Kojo
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