Before going to New York for the African Burial Ground trip, I didn't know what to expect when i got there. I mean, yes we had heard about it on numerous occasions, but hearing and expecriencing are two different things. The thing that i would say capture me the most about hearing was that people seriously forgot about 15,000 bodies that happened to be lying under one of the worlds busiest and influential cities. I just could not wrap my head around it. Sadly, it made me realize the lack of respect for life, and how easily one can be forgotten after death if someone does not make it their priority to preserve their memory.
When first entering the Burial Ground there is not much to give meaning to what your looking at to the uneducated eye. Frankly, I didn't want to touch anything because I wasnt sure what meaning it held or what it represented. In no way shape or form did i want to be disrespectful to the memory of those who had come way before me. So, i waited and listened to hear about what i was looking at and the signifigance it held. Listening to Dr. Carr speak passionately about all those who had influenced the presence of the Burial Ground intrigued and pulled me in to want to hear and learn more. But, when he put the tour into the hands of the tour guide the experience took new way. When we are asked to stand as close together as we could most people did not budge. But he insisted that we squeeze together so that there was no more space in the monement on those of us who could not fit were literaly on top of each other. I would concluse that most of us did not know why he was asking us to stand so close together, I mean I was cold but I wasn't trying to have all these people all up in my space. But, I obliged. Then the guide asked that we close our eyes, some people opted to keep their eyes open and listen intently instead, like myself. Listening, i heard him ask us to use our imaginations and take us back to a slave ship, where we would be standing as close as we were at that moment and for some closer. he asked us to relive the moment of a slave who was being ripped from their homeland seperated from the ones that they love to go to a place where your destination was unclear. To imagine the horrid screams of a pregnant woman attempting to give birth under impossible conditions. The foul stench of the dead body chained next to yours. And i imagined just as he asked. Suddenly, i didn't feel the cold of the cool October day. instead I felt claustrophobic and suffocated from imagining the heat all those bodies would give off. I could feel a sense of fear sitting like a rock in the middle of my chest. Then I wondered how those who made it did. Thrust into a group of people with different cultures and different languages, the only communication you had in common was the fear in your eyes.
As my imagination relived what i was hearing I was constantly interupted by some around me who did not have the same respect that i had for where i was. Even though we are college students there were still people who groaned and complained about what the guide was saying by claiming, "Oh no that was too much" or "That couldn't have been me." These comments irritated me to no end because if they would close their mouths and stop thinking about themselves for 30 minutes they would have realized that the very people we were standing there to honor already did it for them. It shows me that the image and heart for sacrifice that reigned in the hearts of generations before me as escaped some people in my generation. But the comments that took the cake of what i would like to call the Ignorance Awards would be to the person who thought it would have been more appropriate to take a trip out to Brooklyn, specifically Marcy Projects, to as she said, "see where Jay-Z is from" followed by another person who thought a more useful trip would have been to Bad Boy, because as she said "I'm trying to get discovered." I thought i was upset then. But 2 days later writing I'm still disgusted. I'm from New York and i have never heard of anyone wanting to take a field trip to Marcy Projects. Last time i checked the projects was something you try to get out of not visit for fun. And as for getting discovered at Bad Boy, sweetheart Diddy would not have even existed if it was not for those who died for people like him to be sucessful and get to such great magnitudes today.
So in conclusion I would say that just being in the atmosphere of the burial ground and looking at the pictures of bones that were dug up moved me and made me apprectiate more the slaves of so many years ago. The respect I had before I went to the burial ground grew as I left. When hearing the rude and ignorant comments of some college students around me I was bewildered. My hurt hearts for the 15,000 bodies that were so easily forgotton over time, and whose memory is so easily disregareded today. Their spirits motivate me to be the best human being that i can, because they as well as generations to come would pay dues for me to have a better future. So I am living off the fruits of someone elses labor, as a time will come for me to pay dues and make sacrifices for the generatioons that come after me.