Ota
“Then the king commanded, and Daniel was brought and cast into the den of lions.” (Daniel 6:16)
Happy Black History Month! I always feel like this time of year is a wonderful time for learning, remembering, and honoring the stories, legacies, and resilience of Black people in America; because more often than not these stories don’t get highlighted and are either swept under the rug and forgotten.
So with all that being said, in the spirit of Black History Month, I am not solely taking time to share about an event in Black History (if you’ve read any of my writing you should be aware that I do that all throughout the year), but instead, today I am sharing what I personally believe is one of the most neglected, yet thought-provoking stories in this country; and that is the story of Ota Benga.
Ota Benga was estimated to be an early teenager when he was captured and taken hostage by Samuel Phillips Verner in March 1904. Verner was an American trader with expertise in finding and providing exotic animals that were unavailable in the United States. Ota belonged to an indigenous people group called the Mbuti people in the Kasai region of Congo. This group of people were referred to as “Congo pygmies” do to their stature. Hence, after discovering the Mbuti people for the first time, Verner determined that Ota’s ethnicity and stature were exotic and valuable to him. So what did he do? Verner kidnapped Ota, and shipped him to America.
I reiterate, in the 20th Century, barely 100 years ago, Ota Benga was kidnapped and brought to New Orleans, Louisiana, where he was later transported to the St. Louis World’s Fair. In St Louis I imagine Ota being further dehumanized as showman probably chanted, “Come and see the last African pygmy!” After that I envision the crowds shuffling in, laughing and jeering, posing and snapping photographs of the helpless African teenager.
How traumatizing that must that have been for Ota? Yet unfortunately things got worse.
Having had so much “success” with Ota in St. Louis, businessmen decided to raise the stakes; and in September of 1906, Ota was transported from St. Louis to New York, where he would be exhibited in the Bronx Zoo in a cage with an orangutan.
For 20 days straight crowds would travel to witness Ota in the monkey house; until outrage from Christian ministers pressured this spectacle to stop. And eventually it did, as Ota was released to the Howard Colored Orphan Asylum in Brooklyn, NY; now at this point in the story, one would probably imagine that that’s where the story ends. However, once again the story doesn’t, as things got worse.
What quickly happens after the zoo incident, is Ota understandably struggles to “move on.” Most likely due to the trauma he experienced from being kidnapped from his home country, combined with the trauma he experienced from being caged like a monkey, Ota understandably could not live comfortably in the United States; And because of this discomfort, Ota began to develop one major longing… that someone would help him return to his home in Congo; and maybe saddest of all, it was this imprisonment that affected Ota the most.
The allusion of freedom from something foreign to home.
After waiting and waiting for someone to help him get there, Ota’s hope and faith dwindled until he decided to commit suicide almost 10 years later in March 1916.
That is the story of Ota Benga. And what challenges me about his story is that it sticks. After learning about, Ota’s history, I have been captivated; and I think one of the primary reasons why is because I can resonate with it.
As an African American, I cannot tell you how many times I’ve had to question where I am. For example, my ancestors were stolen from their African homeland, then following that they were sold and enslaved throughout different parts of the United States. Like Ota, I imagine how my ancestors wrestled, questioned their locations, and longed to return home.
Growing up in a predominately white town, I shared those feelings too. Like Ota, I grew up accustomed to feeling different like everyone was watching me. I know what it’s like to be dehumanized, to bow down my head and allow my white peers to marvel and analyze my hair. I know what it’s like to be labeled and called “NIGGER!” I know what it’s like to wonder is this really where I’m supposed to be?
And again like Ota, in many respects we’ve seemingly “gotten out.” Yet more often than not our physical escape may not equate to our mental, emotional, and psychological freedom. Hence, I conclude this post by sharing two thoughts…
If you are reading this and your physical, emotional, spiritual, and/or psychological location that you find yourself feels off, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Your feelings are justified. And there are people who are out there who want to help you get where you feel accepted, understood, loved, and known.
If you are satisfied and comfortable with the physical, emotional, spiritual, and/or psychological location that you find yourself, how does it feel to know that others around you may not be experiencing those same feelings? How might we be able to make others feel at home, and/or support them as they navigate unfamiliar territory?
