my letter
If you were Barack Obama two years ago, and you went on a quest
venturing North and East in search of America’s lost sheep, you would
find, yourself at the Canadian boarder, where you would once again, be
treated like, less of a human being because of your color.
You would endure such treatment because, you know it comes with being,
your race and it’s too big a fight to take on, after all the word
“injustice” is a claim for the fairer race. A lifestyle for the darker.
So after the boarder’s scrutiny, you travel East.
You have heard of this Province. It is known for it’s beautiful ocean
properties, the large rocks of Peggy’s cove, the burial grounds of
Titanic bodies. Nova Scotia is home to the Irish and Scottish. Fishing
villages and quaint towns, Indian reservations and surviving Black
communities. The city of Halifax is small but steadily becoming it’s
own Metropolis.
Ahh the shore of Nova Scotia is as beautiful and breath taken as you imagine.
Now that you have arrived, your only task is to find these Black communities, to unite with the lost flock of American history. The end of the railroad, the forgotten people. You’re excited to meet these people, you have questions and wonderings.
Surely if you hit the main city, you will easily encounter such folk.
You walk, you drive, you look here you look there. Where are they you
ask? I was told there were here. You go to the eating establishments.
They are not eating or serving, you go to museums, they neither work
here nor have art displayed, the fishing towns, you drive along the
beautiful cost and speak with the fishermen. There are no Black
fishermen in this town.
You’re directed to the Black Cultural center. There you learn what you,
had expected that the slaves of the underground and the slaves brought
from Jamaica are in fact here in Nova Scotia.
As you leave, an old Black man seats on his doorstep outside of the
center. You introduce yourself and explain, I am her to find the Black
people of Nova Scotia. I have information that they exist but I can’t
find them.
He smiles a friendly smile.
We are here living the existence Nova Scotia has designed for us. When
we are too visible they move us. They place us in remote area. They
make it extremely hard to make a living. We have no place in this
Province.
We look at our American brothers and feel the pain of your blatant
racism. Here in Canada we are inflicted daily with a dull, polite
racism. They do not need the famous “N’ word here.
They take our land, they keep us in poverty, and they oppress us
everyday with a smile on their face. We are not racist. We didn’t have
slaves in Canada.
The great Canadian Lies.
Saddened by the words of the old man. This journey you traveled in
modern day luxury. The Journey they fled in painful pursuit. A journey
of years, of struggle and hardship to a place they thought was a
Promise land. Many years later the truth is a living fact.
The Black who fled to a safer ground might have found retrieve then but
live the very existence of having stayed back. A long tiring journey
only to be hoodwinked.
The old man took you for a ride. He showed you Africville. Nova Scotia
dark mark of Injustice. . He took you to the small towns of Preston, he
lifted a rock and showed you where they all were.
Sure we have Black Americans living in every bit such communities and
housing projects in my land but we also have places like Bowie Maryland
and Atlanta, Georgia and many many thriving Black districts and
communities.
Where Black folks are living quite well, Universities and higher
education, programs in arts entertainment and Sports opportunities’..
We have…..The American dream .We have..hope
That is what was missing from the eyes of the Blacks in Nova Scotia hope.
They fled from slavery to a life of polite oppression
Mr. Obama you did not just raise the hope of Black Americans you raised
the hopes of Blacks everywhere. We the lost sheep of American History
are here. We have no hope to rise up as the bar weighing down on us is
too heavy.
Please acknowledge that we are here and a part of your History and a hope to your future.
Leslie carvery
