02/02/2021
Black History Month in Honor of our Forerunners.
Black History taught today is reduced to stories of “firsts”, it does not give us a full review, the good and bad. I want to share with you see excerpts from Dr. Harding’s book There Is A River, one of the most honest and thorough assessment of our forced journey, our holocaust. Dr. Harding’s work is an honest and spiritual telling of our history before 1619 and a generation after.
“There Is A River,The Black Struggle For Freedom in America”, by Dr. Vincent Harding
…we may sense that the river of black struggle is people, but it is also the hope, the movement, the transformative power that humans create and that create them, us, and makes them, us, new persons. So we black people are the river, the river is us. The river is in us, created by us, flowing out of us, surrounding us, re-creating us, and its entire nation…Dr. Harding
Excerpts from Chapter 1: From the Shores of Africa, The Forerunners
…we stood in arms, firing on the revolted slaves, of whom we killed some and wounded many…and many of the most mutinous leapt overboard, and drowned themselves in the ocean with much resolution… John Barbot, Slave Ship Captain, 1701
It began at the edge of our homeland, where the verdant forests and tropical bush gave way gradually to the dandy stretched of the Guinea coast. It began at the mouth of the rivers, from the northern point where the Senegal and Gambia pour their troubled streams into the waters around Cape Verde, down the thousands of miles of coastline to the place where the mighty river Congo breaks into the ocean. On these shores near the mouths of these rivers, we first saw the ships.
There was no way to know it then, but their crews of men and boys came from many ports and many pasts to find the shores of Africa. They sailed from Amsterdam, Libson, from Nantes and LaRochelle, from Bristol and London, from Newport and Boston on ships with strange names. They came to us on Brotherhood and John the Baptist, on Justice and Integrity, on Gift of God and Liberty; they came on the good ship Jesus. But by the weary lines of chained and mourning travelers saw the vessels riding on the coastal waves, there could be but one name, one meaning:captivity. Thus it was on the edges of our continent-where some gulped down handfuls of sand in a last effort to hold the reality of the land-that the long struggle for black freedom began.
…Imprisoned now in the heart of the earth they had known so well were miners familiar with the long African traditions of iron, gold, and diamond mining. Blacksmiths, their companion artisans, were also captives. Weavers and potters; workers in bronze, copper, and gold; traders whose wide-ranging movement had long ago put Africa in touch with Asia, Asia-Minor, and Europe-all of them were now among the prisoners in these cramped and fetid waiting rooms of history. Where were herders, perhaps captured while pursuing their lonely, roaming occupation, and fishermen and fisherwomen. But surely no group was more fully represented in the barracoons than the vast body of farmers. And none was more essential to the life of the people the the priests and musicians who illuminated, intensified, and celebrated the ritual integument and vital religious center of African life…
…we may sense that the river of black struggle is people, but it is also the hope, the movement, the transformative power that humans create and that create them, us, and makes them, us, new persons. So we black people are the river, the river is us. The river is in us, created by us, flowing out of us, surrounding us, re-creating us, and tis entire nation…