Voices of Gullah: Keeping the Songs of Enslaved Ancestors Alive

Edited By : Widad WAHBI

On St. Helena Island, South Carolina, a small group of singers aged between 70 and 90 has taken on a powerful mission — to preserve the Gullah spirituals, a musical tradition born on the plantations of the American South.

Guided by musicologist Eric Crawford, they share this living heritage with audiences across the United States and abroad. The Gullah Geechee culture emerged on the Sea Islands — a string of islands off South Carolina — where thousands of Africans were enslaved to work in cotton and rice plantations. Over time, these communities developed a creole language, known as Gullah, and a deeply spiritual musical tradition: the spirituals — songs of faith, hope, and resistance.

Today, the culture still thrives, especially on St. Helena Island, home to one of the largest Gullah communities in the U.S., with more than 5,000 direct descendants of enslaved Africans.

It is here that the Voices of Gullah was formed, a group of singers in their 70s to 90s, including Rosa Murray (89), her husband Joe Murray (87), their son Charles “Jojo” Brown, and Minnie “Gracie” Gadson — nicknamed the “James Brown of the group” by Crawford.

Too old now to perform the ring shout — a traditional rhythmic dance — they still sing, stomp, and clap to keep these ancestral songs alive, performing not only across the U.S., but also in Belize and Mexico.

Crawford’s journey began in 2007 when he discovered that well-known songs such as Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen and Kumbaya originated from the Gullah tradition.

“I didn’t even know what the word ‘Gullah’ meant,” he recalls. “When I arrived on the island, I simply asked the community, ‘Who should I listen to?’ And that’s how it started, with four singers.”

Since then, he has recorded and archived their work, supported their tours, and sought funding for educational projects to involve young people in preserving this heritage.

Despite the group’s dedication, the future of Gullah culture remains fragile. “When my four singers are gone,” Crawford worries, “who will still sing these songs?”

Yet he remains hopeful. “Maybe the next generation will carry it forward in another form — rap, hip-hop, whatever it may be. The important thing is to know the roots, speak the language, keep the rhythm. That’s how we move forward.”