
Somehow I have lived in New York City for over a decade without knowing about the African Burial Ground National Monument in downtown Manhattan. I agreed to meet a friend there today for a tour.
I was not prepared to come face to face with physical evidence (burial mounds) of the remains interred there. In honor of my ancestors I removed my knapsack, knelt in front of them for a few moments, and silently wept. I may never know exactly what tribes or countries my people come from in Africa, but here in my own city was a direct link between me and my distant ancestral land. I was and remain in awe.







