April 9, 2024

When I was in my geography class in elementary school, I had to do a book report (remember them) on Zanzibar. I think it had to be 10 pages long, which seemed like a lot of pages at that time. I’m sure I supplemented the report with some colored drawings to reach my ten-page quota. One of the things I do remember was that a man named David Livingstone helped free the slaves in Africa.

I decided that since I would be in Zanzibar I would try to retrace the steps of Mr. Livingston. This is the same Livingston that the famous statement “Dr Livingstone I presume” is attributed to. More on that later.

Every nation has a history. Zanzibar has a dark history. A very dark history.

This may be a hard post for you to read.

It was a hard post for me to write.

After taking the bus I spent a good part of the day at the African Slave Musuem. It is unfathomable to me that we even have a slave museum. Next to the Holocaust Musuem in Washington, DC this is one of the most moving museum exhibits I have visited.

The horror of slavery begins at the moment of capture. On the voyage to Zanzibar there was no sanitation and water, and food was scarce, often times running out. Dysentery, cholera and smallpox ravaged the slaves. Up to a third of the slaves would die on the ship, their bodies thrown overboard.

Slavery required complete control. The threat of extreme punishment and the certainty that it would be carried out was essential to maintain that control. Remember the only objective was to get these slaves to the slave market. It was critical to keep the caravan moving. The sick and week were usually left by the wayside to die. These atrocities were common.

Slaves were chained or yoked together to prevent them from escaping. This included children. A significant number of slaves died on the way to the slave market. This was just considered a cost of doing business.

Seeing the many acts of violence, suffering and death along the way took its toll. Many were emaciated and almost all were disoriented. Remember coming from deep in the African interior, most had never before even seen the sea.

The slaves were marched in order to the slave market, ranging in age from 6 to 60, first having been burnished with cocoa-nut oil to make their bodies shine. The time devoted to preparation was driven entirely by considerations of the category the slave came under. When any of the slaves striked a spectator’s fancy the line would stop, and the slave could be examined like cattle being brought to market. This included girls who were handled in the most indecent manner in public for all to see.

The slave market was crowded and noisy with opposing traders and auctioneers shouting out prices. Up to several hundred slaves may be available for purchase in a single day. The cost? Cheap. An adult cost two yards of common cotton cloth, a child one yard.

Slaves were sorted out by category according to their intended use. Female harem slaves were in most demand. Children were also in high demand but usually not in short supply. A middle-aged slave was less valued as they were not expected to live long. Even less valuable were those who did poorly on their journey to Zanzibar. They were so unusable they would be sold in lots for a fast sale.

Plantation slaves had the hardest existence and poorest living conditions. They were given repetitive and demanding work and were beaten if they did not meet expected goals. Their numbers were readily replenished because the mortality rate was so high.

One of the most difficult things for me to experience were the tombs that the slaves were kept in upon arrival before going to the slave market. It was actually kind of hard for me to maneuver my way through this maze, but I thought it was essential for me to sit and experience it as the slaves would have. I had the same nauseating feeling as I did at the shoe exhibit at the Holocaust Musuem. Four thousand shoes are piled in a disorderly heap representing the shoes Jews wore as they took the train to where they were told they would be building new lives somewhere in the East, not being told they were being sent to their death. I remember looking down at baby’s shoes and realizing a mother was carrying her baby on that train.

And the smell. These are two of the few exhibits you can smell. In both the fumes become more nauseating the longer you stay.

I won’t forget that smell.

This was the last indignation the African slaves faced while being stored before being brought to market. They were required to squat side by side in a position that neither allowed them to stand nor lie down. They were compelled to sit in their own excrement.

As difficult as this experience was, the simple compelling beauty of the African Slave Monument awaited me.

On the site of the original slave market an Anglican Church has been constructed. Just as in Boca da Valeria, Brazil, it has been my experience traveling the world that when communities rebuild the first thing, they build is a church and then a school. As I left the museum and went to the church a simple signage announced the African Slave Monument.

I was so touched by the monument.

The symbolism was profound.

Although you may try and bury the ugliness of the past, the truth will always rise.

To be continued…