The Clotilda, the last known ship to illegally transport kidnapped and enslaved Africans to American shores, was set afire just above Mobile Bay in 1860. Since the African trans-Atlantic slave trade had been outlawed since 1808, the ship was destroyed so it could not be used as evidence of the illegal crossing. The Africans onboard had been transferred to a riverboat before the abandoned schooner was burned and scuttled. Despite this, the perpetrators of the crime were boastful about the activity, which had been undertaken as part of a bet, and the story of the Clotilda was well-known in the area. The story became legend and, because of the lack of evidence, some considered it a myth.

The Civil War followed and some of the Africans from the Clotilda, who were technically free at the war’s conclusion, eventually founded Africatown on the west bank of the Mobile River. Africatown is distinctive for being founded by Africans who had recently arrived on American shores and maintained their customs, language, and traditions in the running of the community. The African natives were, on occasion, denigrated by the descendants of earlier Africans who had spent their entire lives in America.

Africatown still survives and descendants of the founders remain active there. The community, however, was split by a highway, hemmed in, and poisoned by industrial pollution, and now has about 2,000 residents.

Meanwhile, the remains of the Clotilda lay at the bottom of the Mobile-Tensaw River Delta. Ben Raines, an Alabama environmentalist and journalist with keen knowledge of the Mobile-Tensaw Delta, organized expeditions to find the remains of the Clotilda in an area that has the remains of a number of ship wrecks. In 2019, the Alabama Historical Commission confirmed that the remains found by a Raines expedition were those of the Clotilda. After almost 160 years in the waters, some of the ship is still partially intact. There is ongoing research into how best to preserve what is left. Fascinating documentation of the history of the Clotilda and its recent discovery may be found in The Last Slave Ship: The True Story of How Clotilda Was Found, Her Descendants, and an Extraordinary Reckoning (Simon and Schuster, 2022) by Ben Raines.

Due in part to Raines’s discovery and to ongoing efforts by Africatown residents and descendants, the Africatown community is attracting attention once again and revitalization plans are in the works. The History Museum of Mobile has opened a fourth space, the Africatown Heritage House, in the community. “Clotilda: The Exhibition” is currently on display at the Heritage House (www.clotilda.com).

I traveled to Africatown for the first time recently. I went to see the powerful exhibit which presents timelines, documentation, and artifacts from the life of the founders of the community. Included are artifacts of their captivity, trans-Atlantic crossing, American enslavement, founding of the community, and a hopeful vision for the future. Among the soundscapes of the exhibit is the sound of water. The sound of lapping waters permeates the exhibition, always there, like the treacherous waters of the Atlantic crossing and the brackish Delta waters that preserved the evidence of the Clotilda and its cargo. The remains of the Clotilda itself are not that far away, still at rest in the Mobile River.

Oluale Kazoola, later known as “Cudjoe Lewis,” was an original inhabitant and landowner of Africatown. It was thought that he was the last living survivor of the captives of the Clotilda, but two other survivors were later located. Writer Zora Neale Hurston spent time in Africatown and with Kazoola, and recorded and filmed him. Her manuscript, Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo,” documenting her conversations with Kazoola, was finally published in 2018. Snippets of Kazoola’s story, in his own words, are interspersed throughout the exhibition with the audio guide that each visitor carries through the rooms.

After leaving the Heritage House exhibit, a drive around Africatown gives evidence of what is being done, what still needs to be done. Among the houses – vintage or newer, abandoned or proudly occupied, unkempt or carefully maintained, there were two that stood out for me. One was a tiny shotgun house, one of my favorite vernacular styles, and the other was boldly adorned with an image of the African continent against a red, black, and green field. Both appealed to my inner-William Christenberry.

Back at the noisy highway that transects Africatown stands the community’s spiritual center, Union Missionary Baptist Church, with a bust of Kazoola mounted in front. Across the highway, not exempt from the clamor of factory traffic, is the peaceful Africatown cemetery with remains of the original settlers and their descendants. The site of an upcoming Africatown Welcome Center is just across the road.

I knew much of the story of Africatown and the Clotilda from readings and documentaries, but it is an inspiration to actually be in Africatown, the home of such courage. This community, forged by people forcibly removed from their home, illustrates the power and conviction to create a new home in an often hostile foreign land. The community, the Africatown Heritage House, the church, and the burial ground remain as symbols and reminders of an unfaltering spirit.