RAY SPRIGGS ALSO KNOWN AS DR. SPRIGGS
E. Ablorh-Odjidja

Ray Vernon Spriggs died peacefully, one afternoon in March 28, 1996, at his home on New Hampshire Avenue in Washington, DC. His death was sudden, and it came as shock to friends and family alike.

Suddenly, those of us saddled with guilt for infrequent church attendances were compelled to grab the Bible for comfort. I, for instance, had to scour my memory for verses from the Bible to pay tribute to him.

The verse I remembered, thanks to memories of parents and childhood, was from 1st CORINTHIANS, Chapter 13, and I quote:

BUT WHETHER THERE BE PROPHECIES, THEY SHALL FAIL
WHETHER THERE BE TONGUES, THEY SHALL CEASE
WHETHER THERE BE KNOWLEDGE, IT SHALL VANISH AWAY
FOR WE KNOW IN PART, AND WE PROPHESY IN PART
BUT WHEN THAT WHICH IS PERFECT IS COME
THEN THAT WHICH IS PART SHALL BE DONE AWAY.

On the day of the Memorial at the Union Temple Baptist Church in S.E Washington, D.C., I stood at the lectern, face wet, and read the above when it came my turn to pay tribute to him.

I wished the good Lord to guide Ray to the next world; to that state of perfection that was promised in the verse.

Who was Ray Spriggs?

Those who knew him well knew him as a physically small person, but also a man with a big heart and enough courage to fit the body of a lion.

Ray was the first African-American to enlist in the Peace Corps.

Imagine the courage of a 25 year old American youth, who, fed by visions of the Tarzan movies of the period - about the so called primitive and "wicked exploits" of the natives of this continent; still caught in the dark ages, ready and waiting behind vast boiling pots to feed on the next benevolent missionary or stranger in their midst - decided to go to Africa anyway!

Then imagine Ray, young from the new world of America, West Chester, Pennsylvania, precisely.  You would also happen on a puzzle and a question; why go to Africa at such a tender age?

For those who knew Ray well, the choice for going to Africa was an act of nature; a man responding to the call of heritage and character. He went to Africa to serve because he knew he was African.

Ray was an educator. He enrolled in the Peace Corps when it was founded in 1961. He was sent to Ghana. After serving in Ghana for two years, he returned on his own to work as a teacher with the Ghana Ministry of Education.

After Ghana, Ray worked for the Peace Corps again as training director in several countries, including Liberia.

He was a graduate of Henderson High School, in West Chester, PA. He had his undergraduate degree from Lincoln University, PA and his Master of Education degree from the University of PA. Along the way, he attended specialty courses and received certificates from Howard University, University of California at Berkeley and the University of Ghana at Legon, Ghana.

Ray was a civil rights activist too. A passage from his obituary read:

“Since his early youth, Ray marched to his own drum. He organized protest marches to further the cause of civil rights for African Americans. He continued his activism in Washington, DC area as a tenant organizer and as children’s advocate.”

The obituary continued: “He was known to ‘shoot from the hip’, giving straight forward opinion on any issue. From the western shores of the Motherland to the halls of Congress and the D. C. Government council chambers to the frequent forums held in his living room, family and friends have come to rely upon Ray for his wit and wisdom. A source of solace, insight, and enlightenment, one was always buoyed by his generosity of spirit, subtle humor, and keen intellect.”

Ray was born on October 5, 1937, in West Chester, PA, to the late Harry A. and Anna V. Spriggs.

I met Ray Vernon Spriggs some twenty-five years ago in Washington, D.C through a mutual friend, E. C. O. Addy, whom Ray had taught at Fijai Secondary School during his Peace Corps days in Ghana.

Friends called him Mr. Spriggs. At other times we called him Dr. Spriggs on account of his legendary wit, sometimes wry humor, and his ability to hurl all this at a target with deadly accuracy.  But some of us took comfort in the belief that to make things equal, the Good Lord also made him a very sensitive soul.

Ray had a dual fascinating character - quick to anger as he was to laughter. He would use humor lavishly, but turn the same on him, and you would be asking for trouble.

But above all this was Ray's hospitality, which new no bounds. Fortunate for him, he had an understanding wife, Velva, who tolerated beyond human capacity the sometimes raucous and argumentative nature of the guests Ray invited in at all hours.

A visit to Ray was always a lengthy one because he expected it so.  He would urge friends to stay and when persuasion failed, he would resort to his famous closure for all visits: “Wo be ko a ko”, a Ghanaian phrase meaning, “if you must go then out.” At that point, he would be first at the door to show the "ingrate" out, foot planted firmly apart, and with a hand holding the door for your exit.

No one was spared this "ignominious" exit, especially those who refused to stay a bit longer after a lavish hospitality!

Fortunately, the unhappy parting would be forgotten the next day. And another invitation would be extended to the same group of friends.

Conversations with Ray were no small talk. They bordered on the educational, and the inspirational. The philosophical outlook of things. The discussions and the arguments. Books read. Poems recited. And oh, his favorite poem was Langston Hughes’ “Mother to Son.” I wouldn’t be able to count the number of times I heard him recite:

Well, son,
I tell ya.
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up….

You have only to imagine friends in their early or mid twenties, many of whom had left the familiarity and comfort of their homes in Africa for a new cultural setting and then add to this the hospitality provided by this generous African-America and you would understand how sorely Ray would be missed by this group.

Ray would go on in his baritone voice, spreading knowledge about America to this group, with the same convivial manner on each visit, from beginning of the year and right into Christmas.

At Christmas, surrounded by children, sons, nephews and adopted nephews, and friends, Ray would burst into his favorite season song – “Santa Claus is coming to town.” And you would wonder why he thought there was some cheer left for Santa to bestow after he, Ray, had given it out in buckets each day and throughout the year!

Many will miss Ray.

Many from Africa were provided the opportunity to come to the United States through Ray’s generosity. And for those who found themselves here without his help, he did not neglect. But for those who became his inner circle of friends, he made sure they understood the American way of life; its history and cultural nuances, its privileges and opportunities as well as its pitfalls and what he called “latent racism” in the larger American society.

His Memorial Service at Union Temple Baptist Church was attended by a cross section of America. All the ethnics were in attendance; Africans, African-Americans, Hispanics, Whites – they all knew Ray.

Early in 1996, Ray had talked lengthily about a trip to Ghana. When he died in March that same year, some us concluded instantly that Ray had finally made the journey home. His spirit, long departed from Africa for some 300 years. finally had made it home.

Go on home, Ray
Three hundred years is enough to be away
Go rest in peace.

E. Ablorh-Odjidja, Washington DC April 16, 2004