Going Back for Those Who Were Forgotten

African Burial Ground National Monument New York City
May 2014

I’d like to think that the spirits of the ancestors drew our family to visit the site of the African Burial Ground National Monument.  Actually we could have used some guidance to help locate the site, as we weren’t sure what we were looking for following a snippet of information from a list of things to do in NYC.  I’d heard part of the story that a construction project in Lower Manhattan had unearthed a burial site in 1991, but I was curious to learn more.  We were surprised to find the exterior of the building looking like the rest of the office buildings in the area and we were greeted by the security screening that desecrates the threshold of all federal buildings. But once inside I was  aware that we were standing on holy ground before even reading the sign notifying us that “approximately 15,000 people are buried in this ground”.

It was a thin place, open to spirit and rooted in the story of struggle. It drew us to pay attention and explore further. The ordinary office facade and the busy Manhattan street outside, faded away and we walked into a story of remembrance and resistance.  We learned that upon the discovery of human remains in what was likely an African burial site from colonial times, a movement of people led by African descendants organized to stop the construction and pay respect to the discovery.  It took an act of Congress to halt the construction and building plans were changed to provide space for a public memorial.

The remains of 419 people were excavated and transferred to Howard University for study.  I was interested to read what they learned about the burial practice at the time.  Bodies were wrapped in shrouds that were closed with straight pins. Sometimes there were small treasures included in the caskets, shells, buttons, beads.  Some had beaded belts around their waists.   Some caskets were marked with tacks with the  heart-shaped West African symbol of the  Sankofa, a bird with it’s head turned backwards, that is associated with the saying “it is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten”.  There is a powerful video reenactment of what a burial ceremony might have been, with a midwife/presider who stood at the grave and called to gathering “Are you here? Do you remember?”  “Yes” they call in response, “we remember X who was my….”.  “Ancestors” she cried, “we are here and we remember.” Our tears were rolling as we witnessed just a glimpse of this kind of meaningful presence at the graveside.  I’d love to muster up enough courage to invite similar responses in our gatherings today.  Except mostly we are NOT there and we DO NOT remember.

Just as the original burial act often stood as an act of defiance, these remains were finally re-buried in a bold expression of identity and resistance in a six-day Rite of Ancestral Return.  All were placed in hand-carved mahogany caskets from Ghana that were lined with Kente cloth.  The procession started at Howard University, through Baltimore, Philadelphia and on to New York City, where they were reinterred very near their original site.  The ground was marked with mounds of earth at this site.

The plaque underneath the casket reads: “The remains of every man, woman and child found during the excavation of the African Burial Ground were laid to rest again in coffins like this one.  The coffins were commissioned by the General Service Administration at the request of the descendant community.  They were made by artists and carpenters in Accra and Aburi, Ghana, using figurative designs and Adinkra symbols of the Akan people”. 

The museum that stands on the grounds today is an incredible tribute to the people who are buried there and the movements for liberation that were seeded by their lives.   The educational installations in the space are creative and interactive.   There are bold textiles and beautiful words inscribed on the wall, including these ones from Maya Angelou:

You may bury me in the bottom of Manhattan.  I will rise.  My people will get me.  I will rise out of the huts of history’s shame. 

I am grateful that we happened into this place where so much care and work has been invested to remember those who had been forgotten.