Africville's Daughter

By Sheila Flint

Sheila Flint was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia on the evening of October 29th, 1951. She was raised not far away in a part of Africville called Bigtown. She and her family enjoyed their life along the shores of Bedford Basin as anyone would – swimming, fishing, and building bonfires for cookouts. She enjoyed lobsters, crabs, mussels, and penny-winkles.

This was the life she knew until 1966 when the city of Halifax rushed in with their long-standing plan for 'urban renewal' that would remove their families from their homes. Those affected suffered in numerous ways, including trauma, deaths, and separations of families – including Sheila's immediate family.

Sheila and other children were bullied and treated unfairly by the school board because they were black. She endured pains that no girl should have to endure – but she has chosen to forgive and live a life of gratitude. After feeling lost in other people's thoughts and wants for her life, she has learned to choose her own destiny, not leaving it up to others to determine.

She now lives in Montreal and has chosen to master whatever comes her way and feel inspired by those who truly care about her.

In seeking out new challenges and enjoying her life, she's decided to write Africville's Daughter as her first project. This is an avenue by which she is freeing herself of all burdens and committing to achieving her goals. Sheila is moving past the bad memories to be able to live life and enjoy making new memories with her children and family that she has left.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sheila Flint
• Release date: Sep 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393800309

Book preview

Contents

Introduction

Chapter One – Eight Years Old

Chapter Two – Around Africville

Chapter Three – Precious Memories

Chapter Four – Eleven to Twelve Years Old

Chapter Five – The Relocation

Chapter Six – Remembering Africville

Chapter Seven – Thirteen to Fourteen Years Old

Chapter Eight – Montréal

Chapter Nine – Death in the Family

Chapter Ten – Graduation

Chapter Eleven – Africville Reunions

Chapter Twelve – History Lessons

Chapter Thirteen – The Apology

Chapter Fourteen – The Class Action Lawsuit

Chapter Fifteen – Africville’s Daughter

Conclusion

For every purchase made, an amount goes to Heal the World Today Project to continue their great work. In order to help at least one person to heal from their traumatic experiences by showing them the art of self- healing through various methods and reminding them that they are not what happened to them.

Introduction

My home, Africville. It's where I was born. Most people know the history of Africville and what was done to the people, how we had dreams, and how our people were moved out of our homes on the back of city dump trucks. They’ve heard about how people tried to take their belongings with them, whatever they could get on the back of the trucks, how places were being bulldozed down as fast as could be. They know how they were taking people out of their homes for development with no thought of the people's emotional state. But there is a lot they don’t know. They don’t know my story – the story of Africville’s daughter.

My name is Sheila Flint. I was born at the Victoria General Hospital in Halifax on October 29, 1951, at 6:30pm.

I was raised in Africville, lived there with my parents. Every neighbor, to me, was a family member. My grandmother and grandfather also lived there, along with uncles on both sides of the family, and cousins, sisters, and brothers. I lived in a part of Africville called Bigtown. There are no pictures of Bigtown that I could find.

In the summertime, my friends and family would fish, swim, make a bonfire on the shores of Bedford Basin, cook lobsters, crabs, muscles, and penny winkles. This was what we knew life to be – until 1966, when the city of Halifax rushed in with their longstanding plan, known as urban renewal, to get our families out of there. They needed to do this before the young ones grew up, when it may have been harder to get the land from us. Urban renewal sent everyone in different directions, including me.

I stayed with a few people here and there, in the city and outside it, never lasting too long. Eventually, I moved to Montréal and made another life there. But, in moving, I just carried Africville with me. It lives in me.

Chapter One

Eight Years Old

As a young girl, I remember settling in the grass in the back of my parents’ home up a hill in the back of the community, facing the homes of my extended family homes. I would sit there, looking down the hill at the beauty of the ocean, watching the waves as the ships sped passing by down yonder. Around me, on the land, were bushes of blueberries, green grass, tall trees in blocks, short ones, big ones, thin ones, and tiny little ones. 

I would look over and down to where I lived; my home.

Between me and my home, there were dry walkways between the other homes. I could see aunts, uncles, and other Black families there. It was a Black community. Only one family was white, as far as I know.

I turn back to the ocean where the ships seem to be moving faster. I wondered where they were going and why. I couldn’t ask them where they were going because they were out in the ocean. I would wave to them sometimes and they would wave back. I just never really thought about asking anyone, ‘Where are those ships coming from?’ We also had boat shows of some kind in the summertime. I see this same scene often in my mind.

***

Back then, I would always go walking alone. This was one of my special places to go, in the back of my parents’ house up on a hill in between my mom’s and my maternal grandmother’s house. I would just sit on the green grass and think and smell the fresh ocean air. How I did appreciate the silence. I just knew that this feeling was something that I really liked. There is nothing else like silence.

Sometimes, I would go down to the shore. I remember having fun, everyone doing something; talking, laughing, eating, cooking, fishing. In the evening, we would make a campfire and burn old tires on the shore. Eventually, some parents would start calling their children home, around 7 pm.

When I was down on the shore, my parents could still see me from the top of the tracks when they were home. Sometimes my father would be watching me from the bushes or from the back of the house on the porch off the back of the house. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of him just watching us from in between the trees. Sometimes the children would yell,