Follow the North Star

Recently Joshua, his little brother Datruce (through BBBS) and I went on Follow the North Star at Conner Prairie. It is basically a journey in which you become a runaway slave in the year 1836. We went to a late night one, so it was very dark and cold. We were first taken out into the pathways leading around forests on CP’s property. We were let out and led to a place between two cabins. A man came out of the cabin and yelled at us to separate, men in one line and women in another. We were led to “slave traders”.

They then yelled at us, using profanity and so much hate. I kept giggling because I was so nervous. This got me in trouble and put on my knees. One of the men, I think he was our owner made me tell him what I could do. I said cook. He asked me how to prepare a chicken. He wanted me to start from when the chicken was alive. Let’s just say it didn’t go well. A woman came up and started yelling at me too.

After this we were taken over to a pile of wood and told to move it about 10 or 15 feet and make a new pile. They kept kicking it over and making us redo it. I tried really hard to make it perfect but it was clear that they only wanted us to work. They left and we decided to walk down the road. I thought it would be better if we got back in our lines but apparently that was a bad idea which we were yelled at for later. We made it to a barn, where a few sisters (not nuns) were. They took us and continually yelling at us to keep our heads down. They told us they didn’t really want to help us, that they were putting themselves in danger. They gave us advice and information that would help us know what to do later and told us to be on our way.

We were now in the woods when we ran across another fleeing slave. This man led us along the path for awhile and told us his story. His wife and children had been taken to another slave farm and he was trying to reach her. The likelihood that he ever would in that time was slim to none. She could be dead for all he knew. We then made it out of the woods but encountered a terribly angry man that made us all get on our knees. Two boys were hesitant to do so and they were made to lay face down on the ground. He yelled at us and told us to stay put but we left the moment we got the chance. He saw us and fired his gun a few times. Our group had quite a few high schoolers in it and they weren’t keen on following directions. We weren’t suppose to run, we were suppose to stay as a group. We finally made it to the village and someone was to go knock on a door of a Quaker home. They allowed us all to come and fed us cornbread. While we rested there, slave hunters knocked on the door but the Quakers didn’t allow them to come in. We left shortly after and found the house of a freed black woman. She was frustrated by our appearance because she didn’t want to get caught housing us. She gave us advice and we were on our way. The next stop was our last. An older woman told us what happened to many of us. Many of us died before we reached freedom, some made it, some got caught.

This was one of the best experience I’ve ever had. I would highly recommend it to anyone who is willing to put themselves in that time, full absorb what they’re experiencing. I lost myself in it. I felt emotions as if I were in it (of course not as fully as the actual slaves did in those times). But it helped to understand the constant anxiety that they once felt. The fear must have been overwhelming. When I was being questioned by the slave traders I felt stupid, as I’m sure many slaves were made to feel by both white and even black owners. I wasn’t allowed to look anyone in the eye, my head had to be down the entire time (until we reached the Quakers). I think this experience helps to open your eyes to what a horrible tragedy slavery and prejudice is. We often take (not just white people, but all races) our freedoms, even to look each other in the eyes, for granted.

We should all strive to judge one another by one’s content, not one’s skin color–this sentiment from Martin Luther King Jr. went through my head many times. While my skin color didn’t change, I better understood what it meant to be judged simply based on what color my skin was.