Millions of lives have a scar - a tragic memory that passes from generation to generation, and will never be ignored. Something that will haunt the world forever.
A little over six hundred years ago, the first trading of slaves was recorded. Nearly three hundred years later, the first group of slaves was transported to America. Then, two hundred years later, on January 30, 1933, Adolf Hitler was appointed the chancellor of Germany.
From a political view, both events follow the same pattern. Forced migration by political and economic push factors, and the harsh mistreatment of other human beings because of race or religion.
But it goes so much deeper. We often only see what happened as a general picture, the same story flowing through our heads that we have sympathy for, but we never truly listen to.
Eva Galler was born January 1, 1924. Her entire family and a friend were captured, and forced on a train for an internment camp, when someone found a way to escape. It was not long before everyone was jumping off the train, running from the soldiers who sat atop the train, shooting into the crowd. Eva and her brother and sister (the three oldest of the family), were told by their father to run, as he would stay with the younger children who would not survive in the crowd.
She ran as fast as she could, and somehow managed to escape from the gunfire. She later found her dead brother and sister, and countless others.
She and a friend from the train live in New York with one other survivor.
Sarah Ashley, 93 years old, was born in Mississippi. Every day she worked on a plantation, picking cotton and hauling her harvest a mile away to the barn. If anyone was not able to carry their haul to the barn, they would be whipped mercilessly until blisters appeared, the blisters, would in turn be broken open by being whipped.
Sarah was never whipped, and often stole food for the others. It wasn't until one night years later that she escaped the plantation. Everyone was sleeping, when she slipped out a window and crossed a neck deep river, following the north star toward Canada. For months she hid during the day, and ran at night, until she found a man who was a part of the underground railroad, who was willing to help her.
Years apart from each other - the same pounding fear. The fear of going back, of being tortured, of dying, of becoming a prisoner once again, of being hated because of how they look or what they believe.
These are just the two stories out of thousands. Thousands of people who had nightmares, who ran for their lives, and who miss their families.
All the stories are usually blended together, and the impact of each person is dulled. Of course we can't learn every single story, but we can allow ourselves to listen to them, and attempt to feel at least a fraction of the fear that cast a shadow over their lives.
The people I will be meeting in less than three months may not be directly affected by these travesties, but they have experienced nightmares of their own. The stories, while different in context, will not be all that different in emotion.
"Slavery is a memory of something we cannot remember, and yet we cannot forget." - Bill T. Jones
