Remembering District 6
Today we visited the District Six Museum. Our tour was conducted by Joe, who originally lived in District Six, which was a Colured township that was forced into relocation. Joe explained how District Six was a thriving community composed of people from all creeds, religions and cultures. He stressed how people were not divided by race and when you walked down the streets you saw a person, not a race.
The museum housed pictures, artifacts, poems and writing. It was a fascinating place chalked full of new and interesting information. There was a tower built from old street signs and an enlarged map of district six on the floor that was accompanied with several quotes, I took pictures of a few of my favorites, which I have included in this entry.
After we took some time to look around, Joe took us on a walking tour of District Six. When we passed a house with iron gates and tons of broken bottles (which were used to deter robbers), Joe explained to us that it wasn’t always like this. He said this was an example of the paranoia we now see so often. Before the tour he showed us an old picture of one particular historic building and asked us to keep the image in our minds. During the walking tour we came upon that same building, only this time it was painted with every color of the rainbow, little caricatures of doughnuts and muffins danced on the walls. It was clear the defacing of such a building highly upset Joe.
Along the walk there were discussions of displacement and we analyzed some similar situations that occurred in the U.S. and in Louisville specifically. When discussing the relocation of District Six residents, Joe pointed out how the community use to be alive with businesses, people lived near their places of employment, churches and schools. When they were forced to relocate it broke down their social institutions which as a result, were destroyed.
Towards the end of the tour we found ourselves standing in an abandoned area. There was rubble and random patches of dirt, and some spots in which a few stones, which had once been part of home structures, were left standing. We were situated near what seemed to be two misplaced sidewalks, that we later learned use to actually be streets. Yet, through the patches of nothingness one thing distinctly stood out, one single large palm tree. Joe explained to us how a family who used to live there had planted that tree in their garden. Somehow, through the demolition it had survived. The tree was slightly slanted, as if there had been an attempt (or several attempts) to knock it down, yet it still stood tall, so it seemed fitting that Joe had dubbed it “The Tree of Remembrance”. As I stood there observing the very few remaining pieces of rubble that were once people’s homes, people who had been treated with such blatant disregard, I looked back at the tree and contemplated what I felt it symbolized..Perseverance…and I felt a sense of hope, hope for humanity…hope for peace… and hope for social justice!