Whether you are visiting Charleston for the first time or are a seasoned local, it’s hard to ignore the Creole-English dialect that sounds as though it has traveled through time. It can be traced back to the Lowcountry’s first black inhabitants, the Gullah people, and can be heard today by the women creating intricate baskets throughout the Market or the young boys who won’t hesitate to offer you a sweetgrass rose as you explore the side streets.
     Although the Gullah culture and lifestyle have been passed down from generation to generation, some question if this piece of history is fading into the past. But traditions help members preserve their culture, as do the hard work of passionate community members. Here’s a look at some of the people and organizations working to keep the Gullah culture alive.



​I ain’t tired yet​
"I been singing a long time,” Sharon Murray chants. “I ain't tired yet."
     The audience, consisting mainly of elementary school children and their parents, sits in silence as Murray repeats these words for about a minute. No one knows why she is singing or why she is supposed to be tired, but they have to find out. Her loud yet inviting voice welcomes the crowd to explore Gullah traditions with her through the art of storytelling.
     This public storytelling session is one of several Gullah-themed events, along with rag-quilting workshops and sweetgrass basket weaving classes, that the Charleston Museum hosts throughout the year. Its goal is to raise awareness and understanding of this culture that is so close to Charlestonians in proximity but so far from the public's understanding.
     "What she's doing is great because you can see the truths of a group through stories," says Stephanie Thomas, education coordinator for the museum.
     As young children sit with their mouths agape, impatiently waiting for Murray’s next words, she continues her tale. The children cannot understand the words alone, but her changes in tone, volume and gestures give them an idea of what she is talking about. They sit amazed, trying to decipher what each arm wave and foot stomp could be saying.
     The art of Gullah storytelling has been around as long as the culture itself. When West African slaves were brought to the Lowcountry, most of them could not read or write. They needed some way to both entertain themselves and pass wisdom on to future generations. Oral tradition became the most effective method. It evolved into storytelling, which transformed folk tales into theatrical performances with a moral.
     Murray is known around the Lowcountry as The Gullah Lady. She goes to schools, museums and festivals to share her knowledge, and she hopes to soon travel the country to spread her stories. Much like the Gullah people from hundreds of years ago, Murray knows that storytelling is one of the most promising ways to keep the culture thriving.
     Surprisingly, The Gullah Lady wasn't born into Gullah culture. She moved to nearby Wadmalaw Island from Florence County to be near her aunt and uncle after graduating from Knoxville College in Tennessee. Many people on the island spoke Gullah, which she had never heard growing up in the Midlands. She was fascinated by their dialect. Even though she couldn't understand a word of it and no one in her family was of Gullah descent, she knew she wanted to be part of it.
     "I realized I had to learn Gullah when people started coming up talking to me on the island. I was wearing a bikini top and shorts, and I didn't know if they were being nice or cursing me out," Murray recalls. Gullah people typically cover themselves to adhere to traditional standards of modesty, even during sweltering Southern summers, she explains.
     As she continues her story for the crowd at the museum, her long, flowing pink ensemble—traditional Gullah attire—helps establish her as a knowledgeable storyteller. A plain scarf adorns her head to cover any evidence of hair. Murray started wearing this garb when she began learning Gullah dialect to immerse herself in the culture. Some criticized and asked her why she wore "slave clothes," but that didn't stop her. While she only planned to dress the part until she gained credibility in the community, these are now staples in her everyday wardrobe.
     She tells two Gullah stories that were passed down to her from elders. Large hand gestures, singing, changes in intonation and movement are just as important to the performance as the actual story. First, she tells the stories in Gullah. Although the audience cannot understand the words, they are entranced by her theatrical movements. She follows the Gullah performance by reciting the stories in English.
     One tale is about two birds—Been Here and Come Here—who are brothers. Been Here leaves to explore the world around him, but Come Here does not want to leave his comfort zone. He stays in his hometown and eats all the available food. Soon after, the temperature drops to an unusual low. A cat comes and eats the bird since he ate all the food in the town. The moral, Murray explains: "The wind of change is always going to come."
     "You remind me of my old babysitter," audience member James Wilson says after Murray’s performance. He is holding his own baby as he tells her about a Gullah nanny he had as a child. Both Murray and the former nanny have such a warm, gentle nature that instantly makes children and adults feel comfortable around them, he says.
     After their brief interaction, Wilson asks if he can give her a hug. She opens her arms and replies, "Come here. We hug a lot."​



​All aboard​
Five tourists climb into the only bus marked “Gullah Tours” in the Charleston Visitor Center bus shed. With raincoats dripping, they are relieved to be inside a warm, dry bus. Before long, the lively Alphonso Brown joins the group, his booming voice announcing his arrival.
     Brown is not your average tour guide. The former band director of Charleston County School District and author of A Gullah Guide to Charleston has lived in the Lowcountry his entire life. His interests in Gullah language and local black history have evolved into lifelong passions. Brown’s been giving daily tours around the city since 1985, the year he became the first African American to earn a Charleston city tour guide license, and he continues to give lectures at universities and organizations in the area. In other words, Brown knows Charleston and the Gullah community inside and out.
     Before starting the tour, Brown gives the group a brief introduction to the Gullah language. Because it is a spoken language, the lesson consists of Brown repeating key phrases and the baffled audience members giving their best guesses. They pick up some words and phrases pretty quickly, like what sounds like “pull-it” really means “chicken.” Once the words are strung together, though, it’s obvious how unique the language is. “It takes a while for your brain to become attuned to my voice. That’s why I always start the tour with a bit of Gullah,” Brown explains after the two-hour ride around the peninsula.
     Brown makes sure to point out the Gullah traditions and beliefs that are not well known. “At funerals, we pass the related children over the grave so that the deceased doesn’t come back and take ’em,” he explains with a serious face. He describes many traditions as survival techniques. For instance, when he was a child, he stepped on a nail, so his uncle placed a copper penny on the wound to draw out the poison. “We had no doctor, but we knew what to do,” he says.
     In the past, children in the Gullah community were ridiculed for speaking the language, so they were taught English in school, according to Brown. “Oh, Lord, that was my worst subject,” he says with a laugh. Over the years, he has continued to train himself to pronounce “th” words, which he says are hard for Gullah speakers.
     The reason people don’t know much about the culture, Brown explains, is because the Gullah community itself wasn’t trying to preserve it. “Now, it’s a matter of our history. It’s not that we want to go back to the way it used to be, like with outhouses,” he says. “What they call Gullah culture, we call hard work.”
     While Brown is all for progress, he’s confident that the Gullah language is here to stay. “It’s the language we spoke, and now it’s being reharvested,” he says with a look of both pride and hope.
     Between explaining the Charleston single house architectural style and introducing historical figures, Brown makes sure to point out the city’s most present Gullah figures, the basket weavers. One of his tokens of advice: “A while back, the basket ladies started seein’ pictures of themselves on postcards. Now y’all, they didn’t like that. Whatever you do, don’t take a picture of the basket ladies unless you buy one.”​



​Africa in America​
Centered along the lower East Coast, in secluded marshlands in South Carolina, resides a group of people who embrace nature to hunt, fish and connect to God as a means of upholding their cultural standards. The Gullah people are also called Geechee, after the Ogeechee River near Savannah. Many wonder about the differences between the two groups, but there are none. The terms are used interchangeably. They descended from Africa, and remnants of that culture still thrive today.
     “Gullah/Geechee has the highest retention of African tradition in America,” explains Elder Carlie Towne, director of the Gullah/Geechee Network and minister of information for the Gullah/Geechee Nation. It is recognized both nationally and internationally as a unique culture that needs to be preserved by its descendants. “More people want to find out about this culture because the Gullah/Geechee people are so connected to nature and have a strong will and are self-determined.”
    Although the Gullah/Geechee Nation strives to preserve the landmark it has created, there are misconceptions about the culture. Some believe Gullah people speak improper English, when in fact it is a distinct language that only partially incorporates English. Others think that the culture is only on South Carolina's Sea Islands when in actuality, the Gullah/Geechee Nation extends from Cape Fear, N.C., to Saint Augustine, Fla., 30 to 35 miles inland.
     Another myth is that all Gullah/Geechee people are basket makers. “Much of the artistic presentations and what is promoted for tourism purposes sends out a misleading message ... so, that is causing more harm than people not knowing about the culture at all,” explains Queen Quet Marquetta Goodwine, head of state and chieftess of the Gullah/Geechee Nation. “More could be done to actually engage with traditional Gullah/Geechees that still live from the land and waterways if people want to truly see the living cultural traditions.”
    The Gullah/Geechee Culture has become more prominent because of the work done by Queen Quet and the Gullah/Geechee Nation. As a result, other grassroots organizations have begun to see the value of the unique culture and have pushed its agenda forward by hosting workshops, panels, festivals and empowerment sessions.
     “Gullah/Geechee culture is teaching, empowering and enriching people of all biological variations that there is Africa in America,” says Towne.​