African Burial Ground

"I need a break." That's all I could think about the Friday night before our trip to the African Burial Ground. Yes, I did want to attend considering it has been so long since I've been on a field trip, but I was just so tired. I thought about asking the professors if there was a make-up assignment for those who couldn't attend. Luckily for me, I sucked up exhaustion and woke up the next morning.
I consider myself so blessed to be able to learn the information I learned on the trip. Maybe it is my own fault that I never knew of Lorenzo Pace and Jalani and the Lock. Perhaps, it is my own ignorance that left me unaware of the meaning behind the Ankh. Whatever the reason was, it is invalid now.
Squeezed so tightly through the gate of "no return". Eyes closed, imagining what it would be like to feel someone's breathe on you for months at a time. Thinking of the pain my ancestors to endure. How they were forced to lie in the excrement of themselves and their neighbor. I began to tear up at the thought of smelling death right next to you with no escape. I knew of this information before. However, standing neck to neck with someone while thinking of all of this makes it so much more moving.
One of my favorite parts, after imagination station, was learning about the various symbols. The symbol that resonated the most with me was Funtunfunefu Denkyemfunefu aka Siamese Crocodiles. These crocodiles share one stomach, but fight over food. It makes no sense. However, that is how we live today. We all fight over who pays what when it benefits us all.
The movie in the exhibit was touching as well. Maybe I'm just emotional, but I teared up then as well. It is just so difficult to place myself in that time period. I sometimes find myself saddened because I feel I lack the strength my ancestors had to have had.

Alexandria Igwe