I can still remember that phrase from my early childhood, I can remember saying to myself, "I didn't know trains run underground." It was quite funny. It's still funny. The fact is that I was unaware and uneducated about my past. I also didn't have enough knowledge about my ancestors. The underground railroad was one of the most important triumphs and hardships that ever occurred in our history. It was a time of courage, fearless of those who opposed us. An epic of strength, and a fight for freedom.

The underground railroad was more than I ever knew. It was a struggle for what we so badly needed and what we so badly demanded - freedom.

The history of the underground railroad is one that should be remembered, and one that should be passed down from generation to generation. Our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren should all know and be aware of this.

Recently I had the opportunity to witness first hand some of the historical sights of the underground railroad. Many of the slaves that struggled for freedom passed through Peekskill, New York - less than a two hour drive north of New York City. I saw one of the churches that was used to hide runaway slaves.

We were told of their hardship, escaping bounty hunters and dogs tracing them down. The captured ones were sent back into slavery, beaten for trying to escape. But still, the struggle continued. They hid in houses of people opposed to slavery. The abolitionists would redirect bounty hunters away from the hidden places of the slaves and help them upon their journey further north.

The trip to Peekskill by the Urban Youth Bike Corp and HarlemLive was very educational. It not only furthered my understanding of the hardship that my ancestors went through but it increased the appreciation and love that I have for my ancestors. I stood in the very forest and wooded areas where my people ran for their lives - trying to free themselves. I went through the tunnels where they stayed in the cold, often for days in the dark and damp underground. I felt the essence in the air, as if the heroes were standing right next to me.

 

I felt their power, their fear and their joy. I felt proud, but yet filled with hatred. I couldn't quite understood the reasons behind the hatred. "Why doesn't the world see all humans as one?" I asked myself. The only difference is the color of our skin and our culture. But something in my heart told me that the struggle was not over, and in my mind I felt that I should write and capture this experience so that those following me could read and know of this knowledge with which I've been blessed.

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