After a half day of traveling up to Auburn, NY from Rockville, MD, five hours of rehearsal that night, and 10 hours in the theatre the next day, the amount of applause and praise we received from the audience made all of the work worth it. We performed for relatives of Harriet Tubman, historians, residents of Auburn, and other enthusiasts and participated in a Question and Answer session afterwards. During the Q&A, we were presented with a poem called "Freedom Fruit" by Cyd Charisse Fulton. I keep it on the table next to my bed. I greeted some of the audience members afterwards, and once again was surprised at people's reception of me and my character. Anxiety is still a constant in the reactions I see, so I have become accustomed to that. But it is still shocking to have people greet me with smiles and wanting to shake my hand and commend me on my craft. That is what I do it for in the end.
The next day we visited some landmarks.
Seeing the headstone bearing Harriet Tubman's name was something that truly cemented the fact that she was an extraordinary human being who really did exist. She had the tallest, most impressive tree in the immediate area around her grave, the branches sheltering the grave sites of her brother and many other relations. The spirit of freedom still fills the air. The International African flag and an American flag fly on opposite sides of her grave with an apple, some beads and coins sitting on the top of her gravestone. Her spirit will always live on with us, so we left a part of us with her: We placed a copy of our program in a plastic bag adorning her grave. Upon leaving there, we went to the site of land she bought in an auction when her neighbor passed away. There is a museum on that plot dedicated to Harriet Tubman, and in that museum I found this quote about the very land we were standing on:
"There was white folks but me there, Missus, and there I was like a blackberry in a pail of milk, but I was hid down in a corner, and no one knew who was bidding. The man began pretty low, and I kept going up by fifties; he got up to twelve hundred, thirteen hundred, fourteen hundred, and still that voice in the corner kept going up by fifties. At last it got up to fourteen hundred and fifty, and then others stopped bidding, and the man said 'All done! Who is the buyer?' 'Harriet Tubman,' I shouted. 'What! That old nigger?' they said. 'Old woman, how you ever going to pay for that lot of land?' 'I'm going home to tell the Lord Jesus all about it,' I said." –Harriet Tubman
On that plot of land, she also had a home for the aged. It was the place where Harriet Tubman took in runaway slaves, elderly white abolitionists, and anyone who needed her help: It was also the place where she died. It was a modest white house with a patio and very small bedrooms. Memorabilia and family photos were on display throughout the house, as well as many portraits of The Black Moses. Her brick home that she lived in with her family could be seen from the front door. We took more photos in front of the house before departing back to Rockville, each of us touched and inspired in new ways.
I think it is safe to say that we all cannot wait to do the show again, in a new perspective. Looking forward.
