Episode 4 - The Legend of Martense's Lane in Sunset Park
“Tony, I was born in 1765 here on the long island. My parents had lived in West Africa, in a land called Guinea. My father was a “griot”, a storyteller. He was trained by his father to remember the stories of our people. He told me of the coming of the white men from Portugal. It was easy to hide from the Portugese, but they were soon replaced by the devil himself - the Dutch, the men of the West Indies Company. They were ruthless. They stripped the lands of all the men and women, even the children. They loaded them onto boats the size of which my people never saw before. A half-million of my countrymen were “stolen” from the land of their birth. But our people were proud, and their pride brought them a painful death. The Dutch learned quickly that there was no profit in a dead slave. So they did not bring the slaves to market in the Americas directly. They brought them to the island of Curacao in the Carribean. There the slaves were “taught” to behave. At least they were taught what the price of pride was. Curacao did not have a climate worthy of growing crops and the Dutch were not inclined towards farming, they were traders looking to get rich quickly.”
“My father and mother were in Curacao for 3 months. One morning they were brought to Asiento - a huge trading market. My parents were sold as a pair for transport to Breukelen. When my father told me this story, he was filled with great anger.”
“I wish I could have told him, that about thirty years after he left Curacao fifty African slaves from the Kenepa plantation rose up against their masters and were joined by at least a thousand more from other holding farms and fought for their freedom. The victory was not immediate, but the seeds of freedom were planted. Yes, I wish I could have told him this news, but that would not be possible.”
I stopped Peter’s story, as I was becoming confused. “Peter, I understand your parents came to America as a couple and that you were born here in what I would call Sunset Park, but you call the long island or Breukelen, but why couldn’t you tell your father about the uprising in Curacao?”
Peter looked at me and said “When my parents arrived in America, the Dutch West Indies Company decided to take my father and keep him as a company slave. He was “loaned” to families to clear forests and to build houses. My mother was sold to the Lefferts family. When the Lefferts learned that my mother was with child, they sold her to the Bergen family here in Gowanus.” Peter’s eyes filled with moisture and he looked away as he said “I did not see my father again until I was nearly eleven years old. It was the day he would die.”
Although Peter’s story had me enthralled, I realized that this wasn’t a History Channel show, this was the real life of a real human being, and no matter how intrigued I was, I had to offer Peter a chance to stop. But he chose to continue, “My mother had many chores. She tended the hearth - which involved keeping the fire going all the time - removing ashes and adding seasoned wood. She also did the wash and helped in the garden. From the time I could walk, I worked at my mother’s side.”
“In 1775, in April, we received word that American colonists, in Massachusetts, had fired upon British soldiers. Word spread quickly from farm to farm through Gowanus and folks speculated as to whether the rebellion would spread to New York. It didn’t take long for the rebellion to reach us, the very next month patriots Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold attacked Fort Ticonderoga in New York. They took the British military supplies, including cannons, from the fort to Boston by teams of oxen to support the Continental Army. The next months were filled with excitement and fear. Most of the Gowanus farmers, although Dutch, wanted to stay under the British rule. They enjoyed the stability and didn’t seem to be concerned about liberty or freedom."
to be continued....