Part II | The other OG [Original Ground]: Going Home to Soul Search
- Jannah Bierens
- Apr 24
- 3 min read
The original name of Africa, before it was called "Africa," is often cited as Alkebulan. This term, meaning "Mother of Mankind" or "Garden of Eden," is believed by some scholars to be an indigenous name for the continent, used by various African cultures long before European colonization. Instantly, when I arrived on the “Original Ground,” it felt like a garden or what heaven must feel like or a haven… it felt like home. It took my breath away. Literally. I had never experienced freedom that felt so physical. So immediate and undeniable.
I was surrounded by Black people under a sun that seemed to recognize me. The warmth on my skin felt less like heat and more like a hug… familiar, welcoming, affirming. I had traveled far. I was jet-lagged. My days were packed from morning to night, trying to take in as much as I could in just a few weeks across multiple cities in Ghana, and two other countries, Togo and Benin.
And yet, I was never physically fatigued. Not once.
Every day was exhilarating. My body felt energized in a way I had never known. As if something dormant had been reawakened. As if my cells remembered something my mind had long been denied.
The colors were vivid and alive. The colorful, patterned clothing, the art, and the markets quenched my creative thirst. The smells and sights layered over one another in ways that demanded presence. And I was intensely present. Nothing else mattered but here and now. I brought a special journal just for my trip but could not sit still to capture one word. I wanted to experience everything and all things! The language was musical to my ears and rhythmic, washing over me even though I didn’t understand the words. The food, rich, flavorful, grounding, and somehow reminded me of a time when I was young sitting at my great auntie’s small kitchen table… nourishing to my body and my soul. I attended a big music festival on the beach and the music seeped into my skin and took hold until movement was no longer a reaction I needed to stifle but a response I surrendered to. I let go without thinking and moved without apology, falling into more than dance, but a trance… body, spirit, breath all in sync with each other intertwined with the beat of the songs… and my heart. I couldn’t control it. Indescribable joy. Freedom.
Every sense was activated. My whole mind, body, and heart were invited. As if I belonged. Embodiment of the word I heard from the beginning and throughout my time in the Ghana: Akwaaba. Welcome.
Even now, I struggle to fully describe it. Words fall short. But I can close my eyes and be right back there. I can feel it in my chest…in my hips… in my breath… in my bones. A yearning… a craving that won't leave me.
What struck me most was how different this reality was from what I had been taught to imagine. From the images we are fed in the United States. From the false narratives that flatten Alkebulan/Africa into lack, struggle, or pity that negates the richness of resources and bountiful beauty.
These narratives are not accidental. They are the product of anti-Blackness, an American obsession that depends on disconnection. We have been lied to about our people and where we come from, our origins, our worth… about where our story begins. And it saddens me that we believe and internalize this distorted idea and oppression that is not ours to hold.
Standing on Alkebulan /African soil, I realized something that I’ve read and heard from Black scholars, historians, and authors but now, I felt. My lineage does not begin in trauma.
It begins in culture, beauty, joy, community, and relentless brilliance.
Going home did not erase the pain I was feeling from what was happening back in the states as political turmoil ravaged on, it contextualized it.
And coming home to myself, before the conditioning, before the socialization, before the narrowing of possibility, made space for me to embrace a deeper truth. Liberation is not about escaping. It’s about remembering… who I am and whose I am.
This journey across the Transatlantic was not a return to the past, yet it was an invitation to live my fullest true self in the present. Because my full self is my free self. And that remembering of self and source is still unfolding.
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