A Life in Rhythm: The Scholarship and Spirit of Dr. Ina Fandrich

Located in the southern corner of Louis Armstrong Park, just outside the perimeter of the French Quarter, lies Congo Square—a sacred open space that served as the cultural and spiritual beating heart for enslaved and free Black people in antebellum America. Beginning in the eighteenth century under Code Noir regulations, Sunday was designated as a mandatory day of rest. While enslavers retreated into their homes, hundreds of African descendants gathered in this plaza to construct makeshift markets, exchange news, and keep ancestral traditions alive. In a nation built on the systematic stripping of Black identity, Congo Square became a rare sanctuary of autonomy. It was here that distinct African tribal traditions merged, giving birth to Louisiana Voudou, preserving sacred rhythms, and planting the foundational seeds for what would eventually evolve into American music—from brass band rhythms to jazz.

Understanding Congo Square is crucial because it represents both the site of horrific public discipline and the ultimate symbol of cultural resilience. It was a space where the dominant power structure attempted to surveil and contain African gatherings, yet those who assembled transformed it into an altar of collective memory and spiritual survival. The rhythms beaten into the dirt floor were not merely entertainment; they were coded expressions of freedom, grief, and lineage that refused to be erased by forced bondage. Today, the square remains a living monument, where the echoes of the past meet the practitioners of the present, serving as a reminder that the soul of New Orleans was forged in the heat of this sacred dirt.

Walking through the gates of Congo Square with Ina Fandrich feels less like a tour and more like stepping across a threshold where time folds in on itself. She possesses a small, unassuming frame that stands in stark, ironic juxtaposition to the sheer density of the knowledge she carries. It is clear that she is not merely a researcher or a visitor to this space; she is a living, breathing, talking encyclopedia whose presence here is a testament to decades of rigorous study and deep, personal devotion. She moves through the square with an ease that only comes from true belonging, greeting drummers and practitioners by name, stopping frequently to exchange warm embraces that anchor the history being discussed in the reality of the present moment.

The process of gathering this information began over the phone, where Fandrich laid out the complex, often brutal history of how African spirituality was systematically demonized to justify the machinery of human bondage. She spoke with a precision born of 40 years of teaching and living within these cultures.

“Hollywood altogether wanted to make money,” Fandrich said. “They took the knowledge of the white dominant society that had been demonizing people for hundreds of years. This dehumanization made it onto the big screen.”

That cinematic representation served as a calculated economic strategy designed to dehumanize people and strip them of their cultural agency. She explained that the Voudou practiced in Louisiana is not a monolithic transplant from Haiti, but rather a distinct, homegrown expression of African spirituality that fused with Catholicism in its own right. She traced the arrival of the first enslaved people directly to the port of Ouidah in what is now Benin, noting that the word voodoo carries the weight of that original, divine spirit. For Fandrich, the history of New Orleans is a Marxist analysis writ large, where the vilification of African spiritual practices was ultimately about the protection of property and the enforcement of a racial hierarchy that required the erasure of a human past thousands of years old.

When meeting in person at Congo Square, the academic lessons discussed over the phone took on a physical, resonant life. She pointed to the spires of St. Louis Cathedral in the distance, explaining how the city was built as a fortification, always fearing the arrival of the British, while the enslaved population gathered in the shadow of these structures to keep the sacred rhythms of their ancestors alive. She walked through the landscape of the square, describing how the space served as a site of both horrific public executions and profound spiritual resilience. Her voice remained steady even when detailing the grim realities of the gallows, because for her, the story of Congo Square is incomplete without honoring the people who were sacrificed there.

Watching her navigate the community, it became clear that her wealth of knowledge is not something she hoards, but something she actively practices through fellowship. As 3 p.m. approached and the drummers began to assemble, she interacted with the elders and the younger practitioners alike. There was no pretense in her behavior, only a sincere and profound respect for the culture she has spent her life documenting. She told stories of master drummers and the continuity of the rhythm, explaining how even when the park was renamed and the city attempted to erase its African roots, the beat simply went underground, waiting to resurface. She identified the instruments with the casual authority of a musician, explaining the origins of the banza and the deep connection between the rhythms of the Senegambian region and the architecture of the city itself.

The nuance she brought to the conversation was enlightening. She spoke about the necessity of feeling the rhythm and understanding the spirit, explaining that it is not enough to simply mimic movements or learn words from a book. She holds a deep reverence for the Haitian traditions, but she is equally passionate about defending the unique, local history of Louisiana Voudou, which she argues was effectively killed by the vicious prosecution of Jim Crow laws.

“Jim Crow killed the glue that put us together, played us out against each other,” Fandrich said. “Although we are still very influenced by each other.”

While racism is a significant part of the conflict within the community, she said that is not the only factor, noting that the depth of the rhythmic connection remains a core requirement for those who practice.

As the interview concluded, she remained in the square, ready to fellowship with the drummers and the community members who were gathering for the afternoon. It is rare to encounter someone who has synthesized so much historical trauma and cultural beauty into such a cohesive, unwavering identity. She is truly the real deal, a woman who has earned her place in the culture not by claiming a title, but by showing up, learning the rhythms, and bearing witness to the truth for decades.

“All religions are fusions,” Fandrich said. “Yes, no pure religion. We all absorb and learn from each other and we are involved.”

That reality is central to how she views spiritual evolution. The goal in seeking her out was to understand the breadth of her knowledge, but the experience provided something far more significant: a clearer understanding of the profound, often invisible Africanization of the world. Congo Square is more than just a landmark; it is a sacred ground that she has helped preserve, and through her, the voices of the past are not just remembered, they are kept vibrant and essential for the future.

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This story is part of a semester-long investigative reporting project into African spirituality, history, and culture. It was created by an immersion journalism class in the Journalism, Advertising, and Media Studies program at UW-Milwaukee. Other stories from the project are available on The Power of the Tongue: From Walker’s Point to Congo Square.

This work was made possible through the support of MPC Endowment Ltd., the philanthropic affiliate of the Milwaukee Press Club, and a private donor.