All language subtitles for Clotilda the Return Home 2024 1080p DSNP WEB-DL DD 5 1 H 264-playWEB1

This is where it starts.

Altevese, Garry, Cassandra,

and Delisha are descendants
trying to take their ancestors

home to West Africa
for the first time

in over 100 years.

This is an opportunity
to reckon, to heal...

Oh my God.

...to honor.

Is the
king saying my ancestor was

not sold into slavery?

This is
absolutely universal.

This is all of our history.

And that just feels
really powerful to me.

Come on! Come on!

Diving With a Purpose

is a non-profit group.

It's made up of predominantly
Black scuba divers who mainly

have a passion for scuba diving.

How do you want to start?

But the part of
their work that I most connect

to is this workaround
diving for slave shipwrecks.

There were approximately
36,000 voyages that brought

12.5 million Africans
to the Americas.

We are
going to measure this wreckage.

Most often,
we think of the people on

these slave ships as cargo,

as like faceless statistics...

Welcome back!

...but they were people.

They were mothers,
daughters, husbands, sons.

They were princes.
They were kings.

They were farmers, dreamers,
scientists, teachers.

They were all of that,

but we don't often
see them in that way.

And the
Clotilda is actually the only

one of those ships to
have been found intact.

This work to recover
that history is hard.

But as I met descendants of
the ancestors on the Clotilda,

and I saw the strength that
they got from connecting to

that past, it's like, well,

if they can do it,
maybe I can.

Alright, y'all.
So where are we?

We are at
the monument of our ancestor,

Kossola Oluale.

Whose slave name
was Cudjo Lewis.

We're going to take some
soil in order to represent him

and take him home.

Home for
Kossola was near the kingdom of

Dahomey in West Africa,

within what is
now known as Benin.

In 1860, he was captured by
members of the Dahomey tribe,

sold into slavery,

and forced onto the last
known slave ship to America,

the Clotilda.

Kossola was only 19 years old.

Kossola said that when

he went onto the ship,

there was a man
standing there, and he said,

"Take your clothes off.

You won't need this
where you're going."

And that right there,
taking his country cloth,

it just took
something out of him.

Kossola and
109 captive Africans were

confined aboard the Clotilda,

all chosen and among
the last to enter the world

of chattel slavery
in America.

Under this brutal system,

humans were
reduced to mere property,

treated like cattle,

and perpetually owned
under laws designed to

enforce their degradation.

Kossola, renamed Cudjo Lewis
and those aboard the Clotilda

endured and
persevered through this

cruel system for almost
five years in Mobile, Alabama,

until they were freed in 1865.

Their first wish?
To return to Africa.

Their
plan was to work and to save

their money and return home.

But when
they go to pay for the ticket,

the price kept rising.

Unable to return home,

the survivors of the
Clotilda brought home here.

They purchased land from
their former enslaver and

called it Africatown.

They built a community
complete with houses,

a school, and a church,

establishing the first town
in the United States

to be founded, controlled,

and continuously occupied
by African Americans.

Here, they could celebrate
their culture and preserve

their memories of
home for generations.

Cudjo, the Clotilda's
last male survivor,

married, raised children,

and passed down
his life story with a

hand-drawn map
showing the path home.

His last
words were that he wanted

to go back to Africa.

He wanted to see his family.

He always say, I
want to see my mom.

I'm looking for a feeling when
we hit Africa for him to say,

"I'm home.
You did a good job."

Altevese,
what are you feeling?

You mean,
what's coming back up?

I'm very emotional because
this was what he always wanted,

and we get to be
the ones that do it.

That's a big deal.

Because this is huge.

This is something that has been
100-plus years in the making.

- We got it. Yeah.
- Yeah.

Remind me of that
when we're there.

Cause
we keep thinking that--

- It's just us.
- It's just us.

- Yeah.
- But we're not in this alone.

No.

So, we are gathering
soil from Cudjo's memorial

to take back to Africa.

In the African tradition,

it is the women who
are to take and the men

who are to give.

It's a ritual
that serves throughout time,

and it feels like that's what
we're about to do in Benin.

This is something
for the ancestors,

it's something for us,

and it's something
for future generations.

Delisha, does this exist for
you in your body anywhere?

For me,
I'm not blood-related to Cudjo,

but we are family,

and that was the
spirit of Africatown.

Delisha's ancestor was

also on the Clotilda,
a royal prince named Gumpa.

People are like, oh my God,

you're royalty,
and I'm like, I'm really not.

It would be nice,

but there's a very
ugly side of that story.

Gumpa was
a member of the royal family.

He was related to the
king at the time, Glele.

The same
king who ordered the raid

on Cudjo's village.

Gumpa did
something that offended him,

and the royal family
wanted to get rid of him,

and that's how he ended
up on the Clotilda.

Betrayed by his own family,

Gumpa emerged as a
beloved leader of Africatown,

where part of his legacy
still stands today.

The
last structure remaining from

that time is Gumpa's chimney.

It's a symbol of how the people
of the Clotilda came together.

Yesterday, I was able to place
a couple of flowers out there,

say thank you for
all the things that

they endured and survived,
and dig up some of the soil from

around the chimney.

And I plan on taking
that back with me to Benin,

and hopefully,

I can leave
some of it in the palace.

On some level,

it's just you
honoring your grandfather.

This is
our way of giving back.

By them
fulfilling the long-ago request

of their ancestor
and taking him home,

I think it heals
something for all of us

who will never
be able to do that.

Before this reverse
journey begins,

the descendants wish to
pay their respects to all the

people aboard the Clotilda,

whose stories may have
been lost but never forgotten.

I was a little girl,

and my father would
make us repeat the ship and

the year that they
came over and over again.

When the
Clotilda arrived in 1860,

importing enslaved
people into the U.S. had

been illegal for decades.

So, after the captain
offloaded everyone,

he burned and sank the
ship to destroy any evidence.

One day,
I got tired, and I said,

"Dad," I said,

"why do we keep doing
this over and over again?"

He say, "They think we don't
know what we saying because we

don't have proof of a ship,"

he say, "but it's out there,
and you always remember."

For 159 years,

the only evidence of
Clotilda's illegal voyage was

the firsthand accounts
of its survivors.

Then, in 2019, a
discovery was made.

Yes, it is Clotilda.

So all
of us said we don't have to

pass it on to our
kids the way he did it.

We can talk about it
because we got proof.

We can
throw these flowers as a way

to say thank you
to the ancestors and

ask them for their protection
as they watch over us.

For the ancestors!

To the ancestors!

We're going home.

I think it's
going to be really emotional.

And I just want to take it in.
I want to feel it in my heart.

I think it'll make me whole.

Going back
to Benin having a conversation

with descendants of King Glele,
we are distantly related,

so that brings up a whole
other set of mixed emotions.

The hope is
that whomever we encounter on

the other side is going
to be just as encouraged,

just as joyful to
connect with us.

As we are
trying to connect with them.

This
is an opportunity and

an experience to reckon,
to heal, to honor,

and that just feels
really powerful to me.

Benin, a small
gem in the heart of West Africa.

Everywhere in this
vibrant country,

echoes of its past are palpable:

ancient kingdoms, revolutions,

and independence
from France since 1960.

And the people welcomed us so
warmly as soon as we arrived.

This is where it starts.

I'm excited!
We're here!

We're home.
We're, we're officially home.

Welcome. Welcome.

He says, "Welcome to
the land of your ancestors."

Thank you. Thank you.

Welcome! Have a nice journey!

There's so many of us,

like my mom, my grandma,
my grandfather.

We're not with only us.

You know, we're
bringing everybody.

We're
on our way to Ouidah,

a coastal town that has
remarkably transformed from

the busiest slave market in
West Africa to the spiritual

heart of Benin.

Cudjo and Gumpa's
last steps on African soil

were here in 1860,

and it's where our
reverse journey begins.

Standing on the shore,

the weight of the
horror and injustices that

awaited those torn from
their homeland washed over us.

He was
being stripped from his home.

He didn't know
where he was going.

He didn't have any
family with him.

He was being taken away
from everything that he knew

and that he loved,
never to see them again.

They stole his family,

and I'm mad as hell
that they did that.

It took us 162 years
to get back here.

They say
that the Atlantic is churning

with these lost souls.

1.8 million Africans died
in the middle passage.

That's the crossing from
Africa to the Americas.

Just in the crossing,
1.8 million people died.

Overlooking Ouidah Beach
is a monument that represents

The Door of No Return.

There are many such "doors."

Sometimes literal doors.
Other times, open spaces.

They exist up and down
the coast where slavers from

the Americas and Europe
loaded their ships with people

who had been captured,

kidnapped, bought, and sold.

Cudjo and Gumpa came
from different parts of the

warring Dahomey empire.

One captured in a raid and
sold as a prisoner of war.

The other betrayed by
his relative, the king,

and given away as a gift.

But today, they
return together,

carried symbolically
by their descendants.

So we're here in Ouidah in
the Village of Zoungbodji,

and this is called
the Tree of Return.

And that just means that
captive Africans would walk

around it three times so that
their souls would remain here

even though their bodies
were being taken far away.

We're returning.

We're returning them.

Yeah,
they're physically not here,

so we're returning
on their behalf.

To me,
it feels like getting closer

to their soul.

When I first
came, I didn't feel anything.

But then, when I put
everybody's hand together,

then I was just like, 'bam'.

It just started to clicking.

Can I touch it, too?

Yeah, get in here.

This is your ancestors, too.

This is everybody's ancestors.

You're right.
You're right.

I know that at least 20%
of my blood comes from Benin.

So you're right.

Like this is--

Me, too.

This
is you now communing

with your ancestor.

- Wow
- Absolutely. Yeah.

When I
started this journey,

I was like, does
it really matter?

Do your ancestors,
I don't know,

does it really
make a difference?

And I think it does.

I think knowing who you
are gives you strength,

gives you confidence.

And that is absolutely
something that's universal.

All right, I know that you have
a ritual that you want to do,

so I am going to step
away and let you do it.

Billy Adams.

Ashe

John Africa.

Ashe

- Lancer Africa.
- Ashe.

We are
calling the names of those

that are known that have
departed on the Clotilda.

And we tried to use as many
African names as we could.

- Omolabi
- Ashe.

As
they read the names of

Clotilda survivors out loud,

I thought about what
all the captured Africans who

walked around this tree
were forced to leave behind.

When you
separate people from everything

that looks like them,

from everything
that sounds like them,

they lose their entire self.

Ashe.

- Lottie Dennison.
- Ashe.

- Samuel Johnson.
- Ashe.

- Anna Keeby.
- Ashe.

- Gumpa.
- Ashe

- Kossola Oluale.
- Ashe.

We've been
invited to an Egungun ceremony,

a West African dance tradition
that manifests the spirits of

ancestors for remembrance,
celebration, and blessings.

The timing was perfect.

The descendants of Cudjo
and Gumpa are embarking on

the next phase of
their reverse journey,

the slave market.

Ouidah
was one of the most important

slave towns on the
west coast of Africa.

When the slaves
were brought from the

different wars that existed,

they were brought
to the slave market,

chosen by different
slave traders before they

would board the ships.

So I'm just
imagining Cudjo on the platform.

I can
only imagine, first of all,

how degrading it
is because you're in front of

a crowd of people,

and you have these
strangers poking and prodding.

You don't know
what they're saying.

You don't know what's happening.

Yeah.

Can you tell us a little bit
about Gumpa, Delisha?

He
was here at the market.

He looked very dignified,
very beautiful,

dark brown chocolate skin.

As I understand it, Gumpa
was given away as a gift.

Almost
18,000 Africans were taken

from the port of Ouidah
every year.

And that is why we
consider it as a genocide.

It is a genocide.

The next stop
on our journey is the place

where Cudjo was held
before he came here.

That was a barracoon.

Barracoons were outdoor
stockades where captured

Africans were held for days,
even months, until ships,

like the Clotilda,

arrived to take them
across the Atlantic.

There were
five major forts in Ouidah:

the Danish, the Dutch,
the French, the English,

and the Portuguese fort.

They were kept chained here
until the ships were ready.

Oh, my goodness.

Those are shackles?

Those are shackles.

Oh, my God.
Oh, my--

That's a neck shackle.

Oh, my God.

Imagine this
around your neck and the weight.

Captives
could be up to 60, 80, 100,

200 that were kept here
with very little, no food.

Only once in a day,
they were fed.

How do you
think the women's felt?

That was the
first thing that came to mind.

If you're having
your menstrual cycle.

Or if you're pregnant.

Trafficking
that many people, you know,

through a fort like this.

Which
I'm sure was not cleaned,

so whatever the group
of people did in here once

they were taken away,

another group came in
and sat in the blood,

in the feces, in the urine.

You're now sitting in
yours and someone else's.

This is a lot to ingest.

On average,
they were spending roughly

two months here.

And
then you're at the market.

Right.

You're at the market like

you're a cow waiting to be sold.

The moats
are just around the fence that

circles the old fort.

They were infested
with crocodiles.

It is believed that there
were some that were thrown

into the gutters.

Cassandra,
you want to lead us in prayer?

Lord,
Father God, this room here,

it's just a spirit here,

it's just making us
feel kind of down.

I ask you to lift us up and
carry us in a decent way.

Amen.

We're off to Abomey,

once the capital of
the Dahomey kingdom.

Between the 17th
and 19th centuries,

twelve kings reigned,

many of whom expanded
the kingdom by conquering

neighboring tribes and
selling captives to be enslaved.

During that era, Dahomey
became one of the most powerful

kingdoms on the
West Coast of Africa.

Today, the country of Benin
is no longer a monarchy,

it's a republic, and the
title of king is primarily

a ceremonial one.

Let us prostrate. Like this.

The
King of the most powerful

Dahomey Kingdom wants to

renew his gratitude.

Everybody accepts today that

the slave trade was a
crime against humanity.

And today, we are ready to

move forward in a partnership,

in a strength building
between Africans and Africans

of the diaspora.

And that is why His Majesty is

expecting you to
come back again.

All his children,
all his grandchildren,

they should come back home.

Wow, this is amazing.

You can't even imagine.

It's a sense of peace,

it's a sense of comfort.

This is what
Afro-Americans need to know.

Yeah, that
they can always come home.

After our
visit with the current king,

we're now off to
meet a direct descendant of

a past king.

Like Delisha, this
descendant can trace

his lineage to King Glele,

who ordered the raid
on Cudjo's village and exiled

Gumpa from the royal court.

The king
is very happy to welcome you.

Thank you.

If you have any questions,

it is your time to ask him.

Can you
tell us a little about Glele

and what he was like?

When the
King Glele come to power,

he reign with peace
and with progress of the

Kingdom of Dahomey.

He liked people.
He liked Europeans.

He liked everybody.

Because the King has such a

good relationship with
the Europeans,

did he know what
European slavery was like?

The King of Abomey
never sold people as a slave.

Those men and women
travel to America to

work with those Europeans,

and they want to
have a good relationship

with those Europeans,

so if today we
talk about slavery,

it's to show the negative
parts of the kingdom of Abomey,

but that is not right.

It is wrong.
So this is the facts.

Is the
King saying the fact is that

my ancestor was
not sold into slavery?

The King said
that they never sold people.

Because my ancestor, Kossola,

told his children and his
children's children that he

did not go willingly.

To say that Africans
were not sold into slavery

is not only false,

but it makes it seem as
though he thinks I'm foolish.

I feel very
much so mocked by the laughter,

and that got me more
enraged to the point to where

I wanted to get
up and walk away.

I was stunned.

Do you know we lost relatives?

And for you to
sit here and deny it,

it was shocking to me.

I didn't
want the conversation to go

where it was going.

I just didn't want
nobody to be hurt.

He's not going to say that
his family was part of an

illegal slave trade.

I don't expect for him
to say that he's wrong.

The king
started off saying these things

that impacted us all.

But then he changed his tune,

but he didn't change
his tune on his own.

Someone on our team went
to the prince and told him

no, no, no, no, no, no,
this is what happened,

and you will not disrespect us.

The king says for

reconciliation to take place,

it is important
to continue to talk,

to continue to exchange,

for us to be finally,
how you say?

Cleansed. Cleansed, exactly.

I
have a final question.

Why not sell them,

send them to a
place where they can

keep their culture intact,

where they can be
with their people,

where they can
eventually return home?

Because in America,

they are completely cut off
from their language,

from their people,
from their culture,

From their families.

So
why send them to a place

where you know they
will never have contact with

what is most
deeply pure of them?

It's okay.

It's not okay. It's not.

It's okay.
This is what we came for.

We came for answers.

I did notice
other ladies that were crying.

And that was a
sense of comfort for me.

Regardless of what
else has happened,

regardless of what anyone
else is saying, you get it,

and you're with me in spirit,
and you feel my pain.

Both sides
need to take ownership.

So I'm equally mad at
Glele and people like him who

enslave their own.

That doesn't diminish any of
the part that slave traders and

slave owners played in this.

Everyone needs to be held
accountable for what happened.

And that is why a lot of
people are still angry.

Some of
the elders from Glele's family

took me into Glele's
personal palace.

This would be where Gumpa would
hang out like in everyday life.

Prior to leaving Alabama,

I dug up some soil which
is around the chimney that

still remains of the
house that he lived in...

Welcome home, Gumpa.

...to give his soul a release
and to fulfill his wish.

...thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day,
our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those
who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.

For thine is kingdom, the
power and glory forever.

Amen.

I know it's something
that he's been wanting,

and my family's been
wanting to do for 162 years.

So finally being able
to do that for him,

it feels very freeing, and I
hope he's at peace as well.

We're
on our way to Bant�.

Yes. I am so excited.

Like I can barely
contain myself.

What about you, Garry?

Do you feel nervous
about anything at all?

I'm
just going to take it in.

That has to be exciting.

I'm excited for you, guys.

Oh, wow.
Do y'all see this?

Oh, my God.

Scores of people.

Old people, young people.
Men. Women.

You
got my brother's nose.

You got my sister's eyes.
You got my cousin's cheeks.

Everybody represents somebody.

I didn't
feel like a stranger anymore.

The oldest of the elders just
told us welcome back home,

you're home, you're our family,

your family is here.

And every person just
echoed that sentiment,

and it really did feel that way.

He's very
glad because your ancestor

write his story

and because of his story

you know the route

and you've come back home.

I am so overwhelmed.

I have snot
coming out my nose now.

Like,
I'm thinking, okay this is the

path that he walked.

Like even just in his normal
everyday, just going places,

this is the ground
that his feet touched,

and then coming back
into the village,

these are the
songs that he sang.

These are the
dances that he did.

These are the drums
that he saw, and he heard.

Yes,
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

These are the faces that he saw.

These are the faces,

these are his people,
and these are my people,

and they're saying
you're home, you're home.

Yes, yes, yes!

This isn't even
my story, but it is my story.

It is your story,

it's all of our stories, it is.

It is your story.

The moment had
finally come to ceremoniously

bring Cudjo Lewis home.

So it was a
ceremony that we had to perform,

a ritual that could only be
performed by blood relatives.

And it had to do with us
giving him an offering,

and it was really just
us inviting him back,

his spirit back
into the village,

and then sealing it in a way
where his spirit is tethered

to his village.

I'm so excited.

I had to
get down and draw the map.

Pour it out, Cassandra.

We're going to put
Pop-pop in the middle.

Put the heart in there, yeah.

We
spread Cudjo's and his wife's

soil in the middle
with the heart.

We placed soil from our

other ancestors from Mobile,
bringing them home as well.

Tell them to call Cudjo.

Tell him to come home.

Louder.
Louder! Louder! Louder!

Bring him home, come on.

Bring him home!

That wasn't just me.
That was the family.

That was the
people of the village.

That was everybody!

Come on, come on,
come on, come on, come on!

When it ended.

I said is it done?

And he said yes.

So I had to turn to
everybody and say it's done.

It wasn't
my family returning home.

But it was.

The stories of our ancestors,

specifically
African American people,

are human stories.

And they're not just about
the condition of enslavement.

There is joy.
There is power.

There is agency.
This work is about discovery.

We're ready.
We're good, we're good.

It's about
remembering and honoring and

reckoning and restoring,

and ultimately,
it's about healing.

Where
we performed our ceremony,

that is a part of the three
acres of land that the village

has gifted us.

The expectation is
that we come back.

Which we will.

Our
journey wasn't over yet.

The town of Bant�
had a surprise for

Cudjo's descendants.

Oh
my goodness gracious,

you have got to be kidding me.

When we saw it,

I spotted it from afar,

and I couldn't take
my eyes off of it.

The statue was so beautiful.

Wow, look at this!

Do you
want to read it out loud?

"Cudjo Oluale Kossola Lewis

from Benin to Alabama, USA,

last survivor of the
last known slave ship to

enter the United States.

He was one of over 100
African men and women purchased

and brought across the
Atlantic to Mobile, Alabama,

aboard the slave ship Clotilda."

They never forgot him.

He must've sent out some
strong vibes back here, man,

for them to
remember him like this.

Yeah.

My hope that
as people listen to this story,

as they connect
to this miraculous,

amazing opportunity
for the descendants to

connect with their roots,

that something gets
healed in our world.

And that feels like,
that's everything.