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Howdy bowdy…de bowdy fine…this was to be a day like no other in my life…I would actually be standing where maybe some of my ancestors stood waiting to be transported from the life that they knew to one of forced serveatude, and totally loss of all of their freedoms, but not their pride and spirit…the journey started in a boat built by a gentleman named Ivan and her name is Amistat…traveling down the Sierra Leone River there were plenty water taxi’s full to the brim with people laughing, wavying, and the fishermen in the dug out boats that they have used for centuries…sailing along seeing the communities on the shore side mending to nets and boats…readying themselves for the next fishing trip…on the other side of the bank are old ferrys that had run aground and were left as rusting shells…passing the abandon ore mining plant you can almost see ghost of the pass …we are passed by small boats with colorful sails which resemble a patchwork quilt…there are many islands along this waterway and Ivan tells us during the rainy season the river can be a very dangerous place…the lushness and beauty makes me feel like I am in a National Geograpic picture…
It is hard to believe that this now peaceful island was the site where thousands of African women, men and children were held for transportation to parts unknown…as I stepped onto the white sand beach I stepped where some other black woman also made that same foot print…to the side of an old stone pier was a relic of a canon used to guard the island by one of it many different controllers…we travel up a path to the ruins of the castles with thoughts running through my mind “who in the world thought “slavery” was a great idea?”…there is a sign that tells the history of who over the centuries had control of this island, the French, English, …just beyond the sign stand the ruins of the buildings that were used to house the captives…and also the quarters of the captors…as I slowly walked inside I was overhelmed by all of the spirits that went before…tears welled up in my entire body all I could do was cry and chant Nam myoho renge kyo loudly …for those that had passed through these walls…I touched the cold stone and could feel all of those life forces…flooded again with so many emotions… “the god fearing people who condoned this as being the right thing to do…power and greed as I see it…and generations later I am hated and looked down on because of the color of my skin…the more we try to succeed as a race of people making valuable contributions we are still treated as less than second class citizens…we have people who think hanging a noose is okay how cowardly can you get…stand up and lets see those faces it is time to remove the sheets…where does this come from…what is the fear…we talk about the war on terror well we American’s terrorize each other on a daily basis…this isn’t something that is coming from a foreign shore…but we are breeding in our own back yard…I am damn angry and standing on the ground where a lot of this all started…
The care taker Ibrahim Bangera of Bunce arrives to tell us the history…he is accompanied by his young grandson…He tells the story in Creole some of which we understand…It seems that the control of the island began with two opposing tribes that claim the island as theirs…one of the sons of the chiefs was able to secure the island…it also seems as he was instrutmental in securing Africans for the slave runners…this castle is surrounded by cannons which still remain today…Pirates and the English were capturing it from the French and back again…but with the help of one African the English were able to capture it back again…
As I walked through the ruins I saw the remains of the doors that the women would go through and the men would go through…I walked through the women’s door for me I chanted silently that me dear ancestors I have returned and sent you the blessing of the universe and thank you for making it possible for me to be standing here at this time and place to honor your noble sacifriace that you did not travel this way in vain…I will carry on your memory and your stories will be told…you are not forgotten…
There is amazing vegetation on the island…mango trees, and the Cotton Tree with its large round base with pricklies…the was also a bat cave…In a small grave yard were the graves of the last captains that were in charge of the Island…and the Africans that had helped them…and even in death they were seragated…I am forever changed and my mission for racial peace and harmony is stronger than ever…
Bunce Island Historical Summary
Bunce Island was one fo forty Major European commercial forts built along the west African coast during the slave trade era… Bunce island (origninally “Bence”) was at the limit of navigation for ocean-going vessels. A meeting place for European traders and African merchants coming from the interior. A series of Biristish firms operated here from about 1670, including the Royal African Company and the London firms of Grant, Oswald & Sargent and John & Alexander Anderson. The British traders purchased Africans, gold, ivory camwood, etc from about 1756, they shipped Africans in large numbers to south Carolina and Georgia, where American rice planters paid high prices for Africans from this region. During its long history Bunce island was attacked twice by pirates (1719,1720) and for times by the French (1695, 1704,1779,1794) the present fort is the last of six on this site, rebuilt following the last french attack. After Parliament prohibited the Atlantic slave trade in 1807, Bunce Island was used as a saw mill and trading post. It was abandoned about 1835. in 1948 Bunce island was delared a National monument under the authority of the monuments and relics commission.
After returning to the Amistadt…we lunched on cold chicken, grilled cheese, tomato, avocado, pesto sandwiches, fruit, gold fish crackers, Pringles, nuts…enjoying the cool breeze and watching the small boats go by…and a lot to process…
Ashay
Bon apeppite
Chef dani
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