It is one thing to speak of history. It is an entirely different thing to lay eyes on it. We are of the firm belief that our children are not only familiar, but knowledgeable about the plight of the ones that have come before them. While we've dedicated ourselves to a practice of informing them throughout their lives, we decided only recently that they were of the age to visit an actual plantation.
Growing up in New Orleans, plantation visits were at our disposal. Because of the immediate proximity, the opportunity of regular field trips were promised. While the are offerings are somewhat plentiful, our sights were set on a particular plantation.
The Whitney Plantation spoke to our need to provide a truthful account of life from the perspective of the slaves and ground inhabitants. A spirit envelops you the moment you set foot on the grounds. It is undeniably a sacred space. We started our journey sitting in the pews of the Antioch church. We were reminded of the many that had a hand in the travesty of slavery The exclusivity of blame did not solely lie with one race of people, and was also inclusive of the church. The average life span of a slave at the Whitney Plantation was a mere 10 years from the time they set foot on the property, no matter the age. A slave's work day lasted from "can't see to can't see," meaning from before dawn to after dusk. We were privy to itemized listings of the slaves as property. Listings of their attributes, shortcomings and their monetary value as trade. We read of their recollections as children. Memories that are seared in their now elderly psyches and transferred to our own. My children followed along, eagerly seeking refuge under any small piece of shade they could find, welcoming the presence of a small intermittent breeze. It was a reminder of how brutal and unforgiving these working conditions must have been for its inhabitants.
While the brutality of truth provided rousing prose in the slave narratives, a prideful amount of ingenuity graced the chorus. Early architectural innovations were on full display within the ornate galleys of the main house. Culinary innovations took center stage as we learned of common kitchen practices of the slave women that were charged with providing food for over 200 mouths thrice daily. We were belabored with hoards of information by the conclusion of our tour. And while it was emotional and somewhat hard to take in, it evoked profound reflection on the continuing car ride. We spoke of what we heard, received their stories and pondered the fate of our collective responsibilities to ourselves, our community and our human family today. The truth of the sun illuminated the Whitney Plantation that summer day, allowing the voices of the fallen to be heard and revered. May their stories continue to be artfully told and their souls never forgotten.
The Whitney Plantation
5099 LA-18
Wallace, LA 70049
225.265.3300
www.whitneyplantation.com
daily tours M, W-Sun.