Hands off Prestwich

The day started out solemn as we lay to rest a loved one. But before we could blink we were hurtling toward our final destination, searching hurriedly for vacant parking spots.

With a quick history lesson outside on the fan-walk we learnt of our ancestors... slaves. Behind us a building loomed ominously as it shadowed a coffee shop that had been placed strategically at the entrance to two ossuaries. The building’s excavation site was once a mass grave for slaves. I am slightly ashamed to admit that I didn’t even realise a place like this existed. I knew of the slaves, I just didn’t know how close to home a topic like slave burials could hit.

As we stood outside we couldn’t help but think of all the lost ones who once were buried where our feet now trod.

This place was just a big cemetery filled with boxes that contained our history, a lot of our culture and too much heartache. This place is now the final resting place for many of the remains that have been found since the inception of the memorial. This place is now filled with love for people we never knew but helped to make us who we are today.

It’s strange that you can live in a city for all of your life and not know much of its history... or that tourists know more about our city than we do... or even why the ‘klopse’ dress so colourfully.

We would like to thank the city of CT for allowing us to glimpse a bit of our past. And remember that if you are a ‘Van Der’ or a ‘February-March-April’ your ancestors were probably standing beneath a tree on a hot summer’s day being auctioned to the highest bidder, saying: “This is the stuff history is made of...”