Grief. Longing. Trauma. Home. Barracoon: The Story of the Last ‘Black Cargo’ is full of these motifs. Anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston visited Kossola, also known as Cudjo Lewis, on December 14, 1927, in Mobile, Alabama to conduct a series of interviews from one of the last people alive to remember being shipped from his homeland of Africa to America. The resulting book recounts untold stories of life in Africa from the last survivor of the 1860 Trans-Atlantic slave trade.
This story is unique as it is told directly from Kossola’s voice, dialect and all. Hurston’s anthropological background compelled her to write the story in such a manner without edits (excluding clarifications on topics Kossola didn’t elaborate upon). The book certainly took longer to read than others because of the way it was written, but I agree with Hurston that it is necessary and important to have Kossola’s voice spread in its true form. In her 2009 TedTalk, Nigerian author Chimamanda Adichie commented on the importance of not believing in a single story, or one perspective of a people group. She says, “This single story of Africa ultimately comes, I think, from Western literature.” Such single stories depict Africans as savages, or as uncultured. Or perhaps a single story could imply that Africans only became enslaved when the Westerners invaded their territory. Many readers may be surprised to know, myself included, prior to reading this book, that slavery was already commonplace among Africans before the Western invasions.
As a child, Kossola waited for the day until he could become a man, a symbol of strength, power, independence, and responsibility in his culture. Born around 1841 in the town of Banté in the Kingdom of Dahomey in West Africa, Kossola began his army training upon reaching the age of fourteen. He tells Hurston of his ascension into adulthood, from learning to hunt to receiving a peacock feather (sign of manhood in Banté culture) to preparing for marriage. The role of women in Banté culture is discussed in great depth by Kossola. As with most cultures at that time, women were considered useful for their ability to bear children and their appeal to men. Kossola describes how, upon reaching a certain age, the wives find younger and prettier women for their husbands, demonstrating this patriarchy in which women are taught to realize when their ‘services’ are ‘complete.’ Kossola says, “De young wives help put de husband to sleep. One make wind for him wid de fan. Another rub de head. Maybe on clean de hands and somebody look after de toe-nails. Den he sleepee and snore.” From this passage, Kossola reveals a lot about the Banté culture.
When Kossola reached nineteen, his life began to unfurl. After being captured by Dahomey soldiers during a raid on the town of Banté, he was marched to Dahomey. From there he was sold as a slave to William Foster, the American owner of the Clotilde, the ship upon which Kossola and the other Africans would be transported. One part of this section I found striking was Kossola’s description of being stripped of his clothes and left naked on the ship. Kossola says, “Oh Lor’, I so shame! We come in de ‘Merica soil naked and de people say we naked savage. De say we doan [don’t] wear no clothes.” As most readers will know, slaves were brutally mistreated. From beatings, rapings, taunts, and mockeries, slaves were so heavily physically and emotionally abused that the forced removal of clothes may seem like the least of their problems. However, I think it is important to consider that whatever the slaves went through, they were still human beings deserving of dignity—dignity that was stripped from them.
After five years and six months of slavery, Kossola was freed, but provided with no resources or land. He, along with other African companions, constructed houses for themselves in Banté styles, imitating the homeland they so missed. Kossola tried to make a life for himself in America. He married his wife, Abila, and together had six children. What could have been a new start of joy and pride for Kossola and Abila turned into yet another term of misery and grief. Kossola struggled to raise his children in a world that expected them to be savages and found every excuse to treat them as such.
Kossola’s fate continued down a dark path as his first child died at the innocent age of fifteen due to a lack of quality medicine. He and Abila grieved for nine years until one of their boys was murdered by an unprovoked sheriff. He continued to experience tragic losses throughout his long life, yet still, he had an intense and unwavering faith in Christianity, a religion initially forced upon him by Westerners (but later adopted and internalized). “Maybe I doan [don’t] pray right, you unnerstand me, ‘cause he die while I was prayin’ dat de Lor’ spare my boy life.”
Sometimes, Hurston writes, she and Kossola simply ate melons and peaches in his dark and dusty house. Other times they talked. Often, Hurston would help Kossola with his garden work. Through fostering a relationship and providing company to a lonely man with a burdened history, Hurston was able to grasp the story of the last ‘Black Cargo’ before Kossola and his memories faded into the distance, like those of so many others. For those who aren’t afraid of a heavy and rather slow read, Barracoon: The Story of the Last ‘Black Cargo’ is an excellent choice, full of unique perspectives and untold stories.