KOKROBITEY INSTITUTE: SEMINAR ON SLAVERY, RESISTANCE, AND ABOLITION

This will be the first of a few entries on my participation with what is officially known as: The Middle Passage: A Shared History of the Transatlantic Slave Trade. In my opinion, it was an immense success--exceeding my expectations.

Our hosts, the Gilder Lehrman Center for the Study of Slavery, Resistance, and Abolition, did an excellent job in coordinating everything at the Kokrobitey Institute by the sea (the Atlantic Ocean). I will not mention people in this first posting; also, I will not enter into specifics. At this point, there will be no photographs. There definitely will be photographs in my next posting(!).

Initially, it was my understanding that the seminar would include teachers from the U.S., U.K., and Ghana. We were told there would be ten educators from each country. I felt extremely fortunate to be one of the ten Americans. We were informed that The Gilder Lehrman folks received about 250 applications from American teachers. Lucky? Damn right!

At one point in our many group discussions, I remember commenting on crossing the Atlantic Ocean in an army troop ship. It took eight days. I also distinctly remember telling the group that I was so sea sick that I actually prayed death would take me out of my misery. Be reminded that I was receiving three meals a day and had a bunk-type bed, navy-style. In other words, it was reasonably comfortable...all things considered. Nevertheless, I will never forget the sickening smell of vomit. The "head", as the toilet area was called, actually had vomit and human waste that slushed back and forth on the floor--following the rhythm of the waves that pushed the ship to and fro like a toy in a washbasin.

I was the only seminar participant who had crossed the ocean in a ship, so I thought I had a unique perspective.But one did not have to attend a seminar in Accra, Ghana to understand the degradation and suffering of captive slaves who were thrust into the holds of European slave ships, then shipped off for waiting plantations in the New World. The horror, if you survived, usually lasted anywhere from six to eight weeks.

The suffering of those enslaved Africans kept pressing in on me...as we returned to the USA from our classroom experience at the Kokrobitey Institute on Delta Flight #167. A fellow American teacher sitting next to me seemed to enjoy the movies offered by the Delta folks--you know, on one of those small-screens attached to the back of the seat directly in front of your nose. Yeah, one can chomp down on (nasty) food served up by a pleasant flight attendant while viewing a frivolous film. One of my teacher colleagues bragged about staying awake and watching all the offerings(!).

My "fun" was in following where our airborne people-carrier was located as we cruised high above the Atlantic. As I watched the screen, I suddenly realized the plane was at a point where there was no land in sight. None. We were flying at about 34,000 ft. Speed was approximately 575mph. The distance traveled was 3,234 miles (from Accra, Ghana...which was known as the Gold Coast during the time of the slave trade). We were about half-way to our destination: JFK in NYC. The small screen registered the total flight time to NYC at approximately 8 hours, 50 minutes. At the "no land in sight point", we still had 3 hours and 58 minutes to go. Outside temperature was listed at -36 degrees Fahrenheit.

All of the above figures were evident to me as we sped along--smack-dab in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. If the plane was a slave ship, there would be absolutely no land in sight. I imagined being on one of those foul-smelling hell-holes...or at least I attempted to do so. Impossible, really. Throw in a contempt-filled, viscious, hateful crew and a ship's captain that usually overflowed with racist actions against hundreds of "humans" that were considered as nothing more than "black cattle"...and there you have it. Just imagine the inhumaneness, if you dare.

So, those were my thoughts. I kept staring at the screen, waiting for land to appear. Finally, land did appear--it was Bermuda. Lovely, English Bermuda. It was all too easy for us...as we flew above the clouds on the way to our respective destinations in the USA. And I kept thinking about how deathly sick I had been on that army troop ship. Well, I obviously survived and continued my happy journey back to Flint, Michigan. It was all very easy. The troop ship. The Delta flight. And the knowledge that better things were in store upon landing.

Until the arrival of jet aircraft in the 1960's, most people crossed the Atlantic Ocean and other vast expanses of water, via tourist ships. My parents and their parents came across the Atlantic as immigrants from what was then the Austro-Hungarian Empire--now known as the Czech Republic and Slovak Republic. They came here willingly, searching for a new life for themselves and their children. Work awaited them. There was no slave master, no whip, and no chattel slavery. The hard work was there, but so was the distinct possibility of upward mobility.

History tells us that approximately 12-13 million Africans made the "middle passage" on a slave ship. Of course, those who died enroute were simply thrown overboard. Slave ship captains' journal writings tell us about the schools of sharks that followed the ships. Some slaves preferred the shark option if the chance presented itself...suicide was common. Many refused food, thus causing grave sickness. If a slave became sick enough to cause problems, said African was usually discarded overboard. Maritime insurance policies took into consideration a certain percentage of "cargo" loss.

Just imagine that for a moment...is it possible to comprehend the magnitude of the suffering?. Imagine the cruel hardship and extreme lack of humaneness. Then, imagine what waited for you if you were fortunate enough to survive the Atlantic crossing (with your body, mind, and/or soul "intact"). To me, the horror of it all is very much unimaginable.