Around noon on Wednesday, March 30th, I embarked on a trip to African Burial Ground. The weather was sunny and around 50 degrees Fahrenheit. I arrived at the location around 1:30pm via the 5 train from Brooklyn College to City Hall. The area surrounding was an urban district of federal buildings, including the New York State Supreme Court and US Citizenship and Immigration Services. I was somewhat familiar with the area since I got my citizenship from the immigration building two months ago. Upon arriving at the burial ground, my friend and I circled around the memorial for about ten minutes because we weren’t sure what we were supposed to be looking for. We eventually found the entrance to the museum, which I didn’t know existed, around the corner. Entering the museum was a troublesome process. Because it was a federal building, we had to go through scanners and remove our coat, shoes, and any metal objects. Our backpacks also went through scanners. It took a while for everyone who came on the trip to get settled. After that, we were ready to go.

The first thing I noticed in the museum were the wax figures. From a distance, they were so real that I thought actual people were standing there. When I got closer, I noticed that the wax figures were all looking down at a coffin in mourning gestures. Already this suggests to me that this museum will showcase things that are heavy and emotional. I kept looking around and saw a chart mapping out the locations of the slave graves found. It showed that some graves overlapped each other and some slaves were buried without coffins. This shows me that burial is truly an important ritual that meant a lot to African American slaves during those days. As I keep walking, I also saw pictures of the bones of buried slaves dug out. This made the whole experience feel more real because it meant that all the atrocities, things I only read about and saw in films actually happened here in New York. Many slave remains were identified as children or infants under the age of 5. It really saddens me to see so many lives come to an end before they even got the chance to live. I can only imagine the pain of losing a child, or losing any loved one due to strenuous labor.

At this point I noticed that the museum is quite small; it only seemed to consist of one exhibit, one theater and one gift shop. I continue touring the museum. There were information on the slave trade, figures representing indigenous life in African and life as a slave in America. Among many things, African fabric was showcased. This is significantly different from how slaves were dressed in America. The Ghanaian coffin shown was also visibly more intricate than the coffins the slaves were buried in, if any at all. I also saw the metal chains and handcuffs that were used to enslave Africans. Upon seeing these objects, I got a similar uneasy feeling as I did while visiting slave forts in Ghana. Even though I don’t want to, I have to accept the harsh reality of the slave’s conditions before and after the horrible trip across the Atlantic ocean.

The explanation of a slave’s body is very interesting to me, especially as a pre-med student. I have learned a lot about the socioeconomic aspect and physical conditions of slavery, but never learned about what hard labor does to a person’s body. It shows that heavy lifting for a child adds stress to the brain and chronic bone injuries change the shape of the skeleton. Afterwards, we watched a movie that both serves as a documentary to how the African Burial Ground Memorial was constructed and a day in the life of young slave girl whose father died and had to be buried. It shocked me that African American activists had to fight for the rights for the burial ground to be built. To me, it seemed like basic respect to build a memorial for a place where so many people’s lives were buried and honored. If the memorial was not there, the so many lives lost and the truth of slavery would literally be buried under skyscrapers and federal building without anyone ever finding out. The fact that we were actually very close to not knowing these secret truths is what scares me.

After knowing this information, I find myself better appreciating the memorial. It is a quiet and beautiful place seemingly separated from the rest of the busy city. There was monument dedicated to the slaves whose lives were lost. There was also a world map on the ground and a circular staircase with African symbols of their values. Finally, the staircase leads to a triangular shaped structure with a door to the outside. Even though I may have been missing a lot of the symbolism in this memorial, I feel that it is a quiet place in which those who have suffered and have their lives taken away can finally rest and find peace. We have come a long way since the days of transatlantic slave trade, but the fight is still not over.

I conclude with a quote seen in the museum: “We wanted to know things that had been hidden from view, buried, about who we are.” — Michael Blakey