brooms & the ritual of sweeping

Written by Kenniese S. Franklin

I’m not sure who taught me how to sweep. My guess is my first of two step fathers. He was the meanest and most strict.  Ex-military neat freak who believed in empty countertops and push ups as punishment. From those years I inherited the ceaseless pursuit of spaciousness in the home.

If not him it was my aunt, my mother’s only sister. If she didn’t clean it, she can’t trust it. Her eye is trained to spot smudges, hairs and crusted food in places they don’t belong. A restaurant’s cleanliness is never assumed, only earned. The nights we spent at her house as children always involved a bath, with the tub cleaned before and after every use. Who taught her to clean, taught me. 

During recent visits with my grandparents, I’ve studied my grandfather’s commitment to hand washing every dirty dish in the house. He keeps one side of the sink half full with water, soap and “just a little bit of bleach to sterilize the dishes.” The water is never too cloudy to see through and most always free of floaties. Helping hands are present but dismissed. The dishwasher is also present and dismissed. If my grandfather hears water whisper from my trying to sneak-wash lunch dishes, he looks over calmly from the recliner and tells me don’t worry about it. “Are you sure?” I ask though I know he is. Who taught him to wash dishes, taught me.

I seem to be the primary dishwasher in my household as my grandfather is in his. The difference between us is the pinch I sometimes feel on the back of my neck while cleansing a sink-full of dishes I wished someone else had washed. I do it not for enjoyment, but because a clean sink is medicine for me.  My grandfather guards his role as dishwasher. He seals the night with a clean sink and parts the curtains to the morning. His dishwater opens doors.

I find more pleasure in sweeping. The recent past lay speckled at my feet - garlic husk and onion skin; crushed clove and peppercorn. The amount of debris we (3 adults and a cookie crumbling baby) accumulate between sweeps astounds me. I feel something peel off when I dump the dustpan and return it to its place. Renewal.

In West Africa, the broom is symbol and language, warning and promise. Made by hand from palm fronds, some brooms are for sweeping while others shield the home and send messages. Each frond might represent an ancestor; tying them together merges their strength. The potency becomes more pointed with the use of shells, herbs or symbolic objects. As the broom glides on the floor or hangs over a door, there’s subtle communication between it, the tree its bristles grew from and the elements that keep that tree alive. 

In Hoodoo traditions, footprints in the yard grant conjurers access to the energy that rests in a person’s feet. This energy can be manipulated for the benefit or to the detriment of the family. For shielding, the yard would be swept every day. One who sweeps daily fortifies their compound and invites God’s protection and prosperity. The broom is armor and gateway. A symbol agreed upon through the generations, it’s a stern and effective tool, particularly when facing enemies. In the decades surrounding Nigeria’s new independence in 1960, the broom symbolized political action against corrupt leadership in Tiv society.

Hindus employ a meticulous spiritual science for proper sweeping, from body position[bent at the waist, not at the knees], to time of day [only once in the morning], to directional specificity [start at the back and move to the front, sweeping in any direction but East, if possible] to technique [don’t drag with force; don’t thump]. Non compliance with these methods can leave the sweeper and his family vulnerable to distressing vibrations created from sweeping. Proper broom conduct can activate vital energies and invite wellness and wealth into the home. 

The broom holds power because it moves the ground. When you sweep you shift the earth.

The brushing permeates the waterways that live in the earth and lead to the sea. Sweeping is just as much house chore as it is spiritual act. It's an uncomplicated way to interface with the spirit realm and shift things in one’s life. Ceremoniously sweep when cycles close. Sweep in and around the home as you feel yourself changing. Sweep when you’ve finally tired yourself with habits that deplete your life force. Give thanks to the housekeepers, janitors and street sweepers who, though held in low regard, upkeep the energetic hygiene of public spaces.

From Hindu to Hoodoo, sweeping the floor after dark is dangerous. “The twilight is the crack between worlds,” says Don Juan Matus in his teachings. What we can sense of ancestral and astral activity heightens in the night when the threshold is malleable. Brushing energy with the broom while it’s dark can disturb the rhythms and invite imbalances into the atmosphere.

Little clouds of energy  gather at our ankles and hoover until they’re dispersed by the broom, if not the wind. When the wind visits, allow her in the home. Let her breath into your corridors. Spaciousness around the feet is spaciousness in the mind, belly and shoulders. 

My home is my twin. I wipe her floors and cleanse my skin.

For the duration of this writing I adopted a daily sweeping practice that belongs to the morning. Every sweep another layer of grime is brushed from my mind. I sense decades-old dust that has kindly sat in corners - subtle, but not silent. I dig day after day and unearth familial distress that’s been decaying so long it has crumbled. To sweep is to reveal. I’m bred to spot when something needs cleaning or correction, a quality that seeps even into the perfectly fine. It’s a shadow over the sun, the dimming of its shimmer.  

There’s an accumulated clarity that accompanies a daily sweeping practice. To sweep is to caress.There’s no smudge that can’t be wiped.  “When places are not kept regularly many unwanted things live around, and through decay cause bad olfactory…It is through sweeping that environment is restored. The broom is used to sweep and rejuvenation is caused to exist and the newness is sustained within the habitat and society,” says Peter O. Atuu. Sweeping is the through line between then, now and soon come. One who sweeps daily keeps time.