By Ruth Terry
Broadcast version by Nadia Ramlagan
Reporting for the YES! Magazine Media-Tennessee News Service Collaboration

NASHVILLE, Tenn -- Conversations about race and racism in the United States abound. Whether via social, corporate and independent media, or educational, medical and political institutions, or in the privacy of our homes, Americans are talking about race. Some may say we're becoming more racially literate. However, one area of the topic that remains taboo, even despite this past summer's release of The New York Times 1619 Project, is slavery.

When talking about race in many spaces, the legacy of enslaving millions of Africans for nearly two-and-a-half centuries is often avoided. If brought up, even among some of the most "woke," there is often the prod to "move on from that." But as this particular history is key to understanding so much of our current reality - from persistent income and education gaps to the increasing wealth divide, and gaping health disparities, we all would benefit by knowing as much about it as we can.

For volunteer divers with Diving With a Purpose, a nonprofit founded in 2003 to train divers to document slave shipwrecks, that journey of understanding starts with what storyteller and diver Tara Roberts calls "the origin story for Africans in the Americas" - known to many as the Middle Passage.

From 1514 to 1866, slave ships traced about 36,000 voyages from Africa to the Americas, severing ancestral ties for millions of Africans, forcefully jumbling myriad ethnic and tribal affiliations, and changing the face of relationships worldwide.

The Washington Post reported that as many as 1,000 of these ships may have ended as wrecks, but only a few, including the Henrietta Marie, the São José, and, last year, the Clotilda, have been conclusively identified.

The Guerrero Project

Diving With a Purpose formed as a result of the search for another vessel, the Guerrero.

The Spanish pirate ship carrying 561 kidnapped Africans is believed to have crashed in the seas of Biscayne National Park off the coast of Florida.

Members of the National Association of Black Scuba Divers, including Diving With a Purpose founder Ken Stewart, were asked to participate in the 2004 documentary, "The Guerrero Project," that explained the dramatic events leading up to the wreck.

Biscayne maritime archeologist Brenda Lanzendorf, also featured in the film, found herself emotionally invested in finding the Guerrero. But, per federal mandate, she needed to identify and document more than 40 other wrecks underwater within the 173,000-acre park, too. As the only diver on staff, Lanzendorf, who died in 2008, needed help.

Lanzendorf and Stewart struck a deal. She would train other black divers in maritime archaeology techniques, such as mapping shipwrecks, artifact identification and documentation with the intent that they would continue teaching others, explained Erik Denson, Diving With a Purpose board member.

"Our eventual goal was to participate in a search for the Guerrero, to actually find that slave ship," he said. "It was just kind of a win-win situation."

They never got a positive ID on the Guerrero, but in the 15 years since Diving With a Purpose was founded, the nonprofit, which began with only three divers, has trained more than 300 adult and youth divers.

Graduates receive Archaeology Survey Diver certification through the Professional Association of Dive Instructors, a higher-level PADI certification that allows divers to participate in wreck dives as citizen archeologists and positions them for further professional work in maritime archeology.

Diving With a Purpose is also part of the Slave Wrecks Project, an international, interdisciplinary coalition that includes Washington University, Iziko Museums of South Africa and the U.S. National Park Service, and which has allowed the group to coordinate dives in places such as Mozambique and South Africa.

"We can go out there and do side-scan sonar, multibeam sonars, and surveys to maybe identify possible targets," he explained. "[S]ome of these targets may turn out to be nothing. Some of them may turn out to be various shipwrecks but not slave ship wrecks."

Experts within these partner groups identify broad swaths of ocean where wrecks might be, and then Diving With a Purpose volunteers explore these sites, effectively serving as "boots on the ground" for professional archaeologists, said Denson, who is a chief engineer at NASA.

Once a ship is found, everything from the vessel's material to nearby objects help researchers identify it. Some clues are obvious. For example, divers found a bell with the ship's name on the Henrietta Marie, the British slave vessel that sank near Florida in 1700. And, if it's metal, it's not a slave ship, Denson said. Objects like cannons and cannonballs indicate the ship's time period and country of origin. But one particular artifact indicates strong evidence that a wreck is a slave ship: shackles.

According to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database, about 10.7 million people were kidnapped and trafficked to the New World. The Guerrero Project estimated that in addition to those who were enslaved, an added 90 million people died during "capture, internment and the ocean journey." To put that figure in perspective, that is more than twice the black population in the United States today.

Numbers of this magnitude are too vast to trigger an empathy response, according to psychology professor Paul Slovic, something white people already have a hard time with when it comes to black folks. And although many may be desensitized to the vast scale of slave trade atrocity, findings, such as the child-sized shackles as described by artist and activist Dinizulu "Gene" Tinnie in the Guerrero Project, help bring it back to human scale.

Uncovering a Dark Part of Our History

Diving With a Purpose has inserted a perspective into the diving and archeological fields that had been historically underrepresented - that of the descendants of enslaved Africans. The Association of Black Anthropologists estimates that African-Americans make up less than 1% of archaeologists in the United States, and 3,000 black divers are in NABS compared with more than 3 million divers nationwide.

"The African-American diver is a rare thing," said Tristan Cannon, 19, a diver and chemistry major at Tennessee State University. "And the fact that we are fervently looking for these pieces of history that could very well stay buried ... is also very important. We are trying our best to make sure that these stories don't remain lost forever."

The history of enslaved Africans and their descendants is something that "mainstream archeology does not really concentrate on," said Denson, who also helped uncover a plane flown by the Tuskegee Airmen in Lake Huron.

But things are starting to change, a possible fortunate byproduct of our racially polarized nation and politics, which Denson believes makes it harder to be "complacent."

"I think it's becoming a little bit more, I wouldn't say popular ... but a lot more interest is coming about," he said. "[I]t's a dark part of our history. But people are trying to start to recognize that this is our history."

This story was originally reported and written by Ruth Terry for YES! Magazine.


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The Wind River Water and Buffalo Alliance is looking for a graphic artist to develop a logo.

Before Europeans arrived, some 60 million buffalo roamed North America.

After the animal was slaughtered, in part to extinguish tribes that lived alongside buffalo for centuries, just 23 remained by 1900.

Wes Martel - senior conservation associate with the Greater Yellowstone Coalition - said the new logo should convey a message of hope and power, as the alliance works to restore buffalo and other key elements of indigenous culture.

"So now we're seeing a revival," said Martel, "we're seeing a new energy, we're seeing our young people now becoming educated in the modern technological ways and scientific ways that we need to protect what we have. And that's all we're trying to do, protect a way of life."

Artists are encouraged to submit logo designs by email to media@greateryellowstone.org by May 15. The top entry will be awarded $2,500, second place will receive $1,00, and third place gets $500.

Details on how to apply and the design specifications are online at greateryellowstone.org.

The alliance - based on the Wind River Indian Reservation at Fort Washakie, Wyoming - uses a community-centered approach to support food sovereignty, river restoration, buffalo restoration, advocacy, and education.

Martel said the reservation's landscapes are ideal for protecting the Indigenous way of life.

"We have everything at Wind River that Yellowstone has, except Old Faithful," said Martel. "All of the buffalo, and grizzlies, and wolves, and bighorn sheep, and elk, and deer, and antelope - and all these other relatives that we have on this earth, are with us at Wind River."

The project is an Indigenous-centered organization of the Eastern Shoshone and Northern Arapaho Tribes working with elders, young people and tribal leaders.

Martel said he hopes the new logo can capture the sentiments and energy felt when tribes are blessed with buffalo, their spiritual connection, and the power they bring to lodges, ceremonies, and overall well-being.

"This whole movement that we're seeing now, of restoring buffalo and restoring our heritage and restoring our energy, our spiritual strength," said Martel, "that's really powerful."




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By Kate Mothes for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mike Moen for Minnesota News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

In Norway, the hardingfele, or the Hardanger fiddle, is deeply woven into the nation's cultural tapestry. From the earliest known iteration made in 1651 by Ole Jonsen Jaastad, the instrument originates from its namesake region, the western district of Hardanger, where it was traditionally used to play wedding music, dances, and other songs.

A Hardanger fiddle looks at first glance like an intricately ornamented violin, with a fingerboard and tailpiece often inlaid with mother-of-pearl, ebony, or bone. It is more lightweight, however, with four slimmer strings, ink decorations on the wooden body, and the scroll at the end often carved into the likeness of a dragon or wild animal.

Another key element of a Hardanger fiddle is the addition of sympathetic strings, which sit in a layer below those that the bow touches, vibrating when the instrument is played and adding a richness to the sound. "You are playing, generally, two notes at once whenever you play a Hardanger fiddle," says luthier Robert "Bud" Larsen, a side effect of the instrument's flat bridge.

Larsen, who is based in Brainerd, Minnesota, was introduced to the art of fiddle-making and restoration with the help of local violin-maker Gunnar Helland. Helland had emigrated to the U.S. from Norway in 1901. After stints in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, and Minneapolis, he established a shop in Fargo, North Dakota, to carry on his family's craft tradition.

"Our family moved into the same building where Gunnar had his shop," Larsen says. "We hung out a lot, and I was very interested in what he was building. When I was in the seventh grade, he gave me an old violin and helped me through the process of restoring it."

Larsen's lifelong love for the instrument was born. Over the next several decades, he would build at least 40 Hardanger fiddles and restore more than twice that many.

Preserving, and Evolving, Tradition

Troyd Geist, state folklorist of North Dakota, is a big fan of traditional culture and history. He focuses not only on the heritage of traditional arts but also sees the potential for craft to contribute to health and a sense of wellbeing. He heads an apprenticeship program where a master artist is paired with a younger person in order to pass along knowledge.

Geist is fascinated by how U.S. makers have gradually evolved the Hardanger fiddle over time. Though the instruments have maintained many of their recognizable features, their designs have become distinctly American.

"For instance, the fiddles in Norway would have different rosemaling designs and different flowers that they really focus on," Geist says. "And the head above the fret is often carved, in Norway, like a lion or a dragon. They do that here, too, but they also carve, instead of a lion or a dog head on the end of it, a buffalo head."

Larsen and others in the community who are passionate about the Hardanger fiddle liken the craft to being similar to language.

"We know that a language that is not willing to change will soon die," says Larsen, who was a linguist in Papua New Guinea for more than 20 years before turning to fiddle making. "If people say a language should be prescriptive and you should write it the way the dictionary tells you to, and speak it that way, then the language will die out because it can't change. And that's the same with Hardanger fiddle music. Because new music is being written, and it's being used in different genres as well, it will stay with us for a long time because the music has learned to adapt to people's interests and cultures."

Both Geist and Larsen agree that it's important to continue to teach others how to make the fiddles, which can sometimes take a novice apprentice up to two years to complete. Some makers seek to protect their secrets, but "if you're not willing to share broadly and freely, the tradition is going to die," Geist says.

A Generational History

First comes the making of a fiddle and then, of course, comes the playing. Arts Midwest's GIG Fund recently supported an event at the Historical and Cultural Society of Clay County (HCS) where more than 220 people attended a concert performed by the Fargo Spelemannslag.

A spelemannslag is a group of folk musicians, often dominated by fiddles.

The wintertime concert featured a song written two centuries ago by Eirik Medås. "Eirik's direct descendant, a high school student named Elsa Ruth Pryor, played a new song that she wrote herself, on a Hardanger Fiddle that she made herself," says Markus Krueger, programming director of HCS.

"Minnesota and North Dakota are the two most Norwegian states in America. For a lot of people in our community, this is the music of their childhood that they remember their parents and grandparents playing," Krueger says, reflecting on the significance of the event. "It's a symbol of Norwegian culture and heritage, and even more than that, it's a symbol of Midwest culture."

The concert featured performances by Bud Larsen and Loretta Kelley, the president of the Hardanger Fiddle Association of America. It was a meaningful showcase of a living tradition, passed down through generations.

"The immigrants brought their fiddles with them, and they kept playing them in America, says Krueger. "They kept making them in America. We still make them and play them today."


Kate Mothes wrote this story for Arts Midwest.

By Ann Thomas for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Iowa News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Natural light floods through large windows lining nearly every wall of the Trappist Caskets production facility in northeast Iowa, wrapping it in view of New Melleray Abbey's 3,400 acres, 1,200 of which are abundant in timber.

The storage racks at Trappist Caskets, designed and fabricated by master welder Brother Dennis, stretch six caskets tall between the concrete floor and the rafters that span the length of the shipping bay. This area manages the ebb and flow of production and shipping. The goal is to keep them full at all times. Today, there are several vacancies-demand has been very high.

At first glance, the racks are overwhelming for their enormity, and the realization that each space represents an individual awaiting preparation for burial adds more gravity.

A wealth of midwestern natural resources, combined with the Trappist monks of New Melleray's need to financially support themselves through their own labor and maintain a life steeped in prayer, inspired its entry into casket manufacturing in 1999.

Each casket crafted by monks and employees at this facility in Peosta, Iowa, captures unrepeatable characteristics in walnut, oak, cherry or pine grain. But one casket on the shipping bay's floor this Tuesday stands out. Its design and far deeper red draw the eye quicker than all other cherry caskets in the shelving.

The lone casket served its owner first as a coffee table, its cherry wood aging in open air for 20 years. Rings left by glasses mark the lid's finish. With upholstering completed this morning, and its lid newly reinforced, this old cherry casket is on its way to the funeral home so as to serve the priest in death who purchased it. He will be buried in it within the next few days. Paul Pankowski, Production Manager for Trappist Caskets, notes it isn't uncommon for caskets to be purchased and turned into bookshelves, wine racks, and coffee tables, then for owners to eventually be buried in them.

The design for these have evolved since the cherry wood one was built. Recent interest in green burials necessitates biodegradable joinery and alternate handles, meaning designs continue to evolve.

Pankowski oversees all aspects of production on the circuitous workshop floor, and can identify by eye where boards moving their way through originated. He points out lighter tones that range through black walnut of Wisconsin and Missouri. Iowa's distinguishes itself from all others by richness of its depth, and the incomparable hardness of central Iowa's oak dulls blades quicker than any other wood. The whiteness and clarity of pine harvested from the monks' own land is easily recognizable in contrast to pine sourced from other areas.

For Brother Joseph, it's hard to believe the growth of this work. From the production facility's modest beginnings in the monks' barns to the far reaching ties maintained through prayer and memorial tree plantings for those buried in Trappist Caskets and their families-the span is remarkable.

Brother Joseph, who began in those barns in 2006 and continues to work in varied roles from woodworking to upholstering in the new facility completed in 2007, recalls how cramped and dusty the barns were. He stresses how critical the employment of nearby community members is now - to meet the high demand for their caskets and to ensure the monks' freedom to maintain the rhythm of monastic life.

The monks' concern for land stewardship led Brother Joseph to pursue the hire of their full-time forester, John Schroeder, six years ago. Schroeder is initiating large scale prairie restoration and reforestation projects which prioritize the needs of New Melleray Abbey's land and creeks lying on the cusp of Iowa's Driftless region. It is an area spared by the grinding weight of glaciers moving out of the midwest around 12,000 years ago. This land's delicate ecological balance and exceptionally rich soil are responsible for traits found in the trees that grow here.

Among the most grateful customers Trappist Caskets serves are parents who must bury their children. The monks offer these caskets free of charge. Funeral homes and hospitals are quick to connect families in these tragic circumstances to the monks. The Federal Trade Commission's Funeral Rule ensures that consumers are not limited to caskets offered by funeral homes for purchase and use, and anyone is free to contact Trappist Caskets, whose staff is always ready to guide families through meeting needs.

Trappist Caskets' employees can relate to this devastating experience. Production Manager Paul Pankowski and his wife lost a premature baby, and his first-hand knowledge infuses compassion in every step of the production process. His three-decade long experience within strict quality parameters of the custom kitchen cabinetry business prior to working at Trappist Caskets also informs his approach to all he does.

While the end goal of both industries is perfection, his purpose, as well as all who work at Trappist Caskets, is not to turn a profit, but rather offer an encounter with beauty and consolation during a time of grief.


Ann Thomas wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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