Dear Griot,
As I sit to write this final blog as a Griot student intern, I find myself reflecting on a journey that has shaped not only my academic path, but also my personal growth and sense of belonging. My research project, rooted in nearly three years of work on the Antigua Sugar Mill Project, has taken me across borders, through archives, into histories of resistance, and ultimately deeper into my own understanding of identity and community. The most recent chapter of that research, which I presented on December 4, holds a particularly special place in my heart. It was my final presentation at Bucknell before graduating in January, and the moment carried a mix of pride, nostalgia, and quiet sadness. Standing in the halls during the poster session, speaking about a topic that has become so deeply personal to me, I realized that this was the last time I would present as a Griot intern, a role that has defined so much of my Bucknell experience.
My research began two summers ago, when I traveled to Antigua with the Griot to continue exploring the island’s plantation histories. It was during that trip that I encountered Obeah, a spiritual tradition that immediately captured my attention. Obeah, carried to the Caribbean by enslaved Africans from the Ashanti and Koromantyn communities of modern-day Ghana, was not simply a belief system. It was a living, adaptable force of protection, empowerment, and communal strength. On Antiguan plantations, where the brutality of enslavement sought to strip people of power and identity, Obeah became a quiet yet powerful form of resistance. It offered healing when formal systems denied it, authority when the plantation imposed domination, and connection to ancestral wisdom when everything around them attempted to sever those ties. My research sought to highlight how Obeah functioned as a mechanism of survival and defiance, through medicinal knowledge, ritual practices, music, and community bonds. It provided enslaved people the means to reclaim agency, to maintain cultural coherence, and to challenge the ideological boundaries of enslavement in ways that were subtle, transformative, and enduring.
Presenting this research on December 4 felt like coming full circle, honoring the ancestors whose stories I have tried to uplift, while closing an important chapter of my own journey. It was a beautiful and emotional moment, one I will carry with me long after graduation.
As this is my last blog as a Griot intern, I want to express my deepest gratitude. To Professor Cymone Fourshey and Michelle Lauver, thank you for taking a chance on an international student three and a half years ago. Thank you for being mentors, guides, and, when I needed it most, mother figures while I was far from home. You stood by me through low moments, checked in when I struggled, encouraged my ideas, and gave me a family within the Griot that I could rely on. I will always be grateful for the letter in early January 2022 inviting me to interview on campus. That single moment changed the course of my undergraduate experience, and both of you will always hold a special place in my heart.
To the Griot interns and the entire team, thank you for being the best group of people I could have hoped to work with. Every staff meeting, every hallway conversation, every shared laugh or brainstorming session has become a memory I will cherish forever. The Griot was never just a research space for me; it was a home. A place of warmth, learning, and belonging.
As I step forward into the next chapter of my life, I carry the Griot with me, with gratitude, with love, and with excitement for the incredible future ahead for this program. Thank you for shaping me, supporting me, and giving me a space where history, community, and identity truly came alive.
With love,
Barbara Wankollie