“Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chastening rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?”
I will spend a lifetime unpacking the lessons from this journey. Benin is a spiritual reckoning, a portal into the joy, pain, faith, religion, traditions, and abundant love of our ancestors. The weight of history, the echoes of the past, and the presence of something far greater than myself settled into my bones as I walked the roads of my ancestors. We say thank you for the healing that took place here and the healing to come.
Staying along the “Slave Road” where thousands walked toward an unknown fate was both an honor and a heartbreak. The sands of Ouidah felt sacred beneath my feet, whispering stories of resilience, of loss, of survival. The Abomey Palace revealed to me a truth that stung—a past where canons were bought with human bodies, a history written in blood and suffering, yet infused with the undeniable strength of those who endured. My heart breaks. My heart is full.
Benin did not just teach me history; it awakened something within me. The ancestral traditions and religious ceremonies that I was blessed to witness confirmed an unshakable truth—I belong to this land, to this lineage, to this continuum of spirit. It is in our DNA, a connection that transcends language, culture, and time. Guided by spirit, protected by spirit, and surely, we will be healed by spirit.
There is no way to fully capture what it feels like to be ushered into the sacred spaces of Benin. To stand in a Vodun ceremony and feel the presence of those who came before you. To listen as the drums call forth energies unseen but deeply felt. It is an awakening, a homecoming, a surrender. It is a reminder that what was stolen can never truly be lost. We are here. We have
