(For other essays, see <www.brightworks.com/quaker/midpas.html> and for general information about the Pilgrimage, see <www.interfaithpilgrimage.com> To reach me by email: schiel@ccae.org. Or by snail-mail: 9 Sacramento St, Cambridge MA 02138. Comments appreciated.)
Easy because I'm going to answer some questions my sister, Elaine Schroeder, asked me:
"How many people are walking with you now? What is the racial breakdown? I'd love to know the little details of the voyage: what kinds of places offer you shelter, where and what do you eat, do you hang out in towns for awhile or do you walk right through, are there events such as talks, music planned?"
And easy also because Peter Maurin, cofounder with Dorothy Day of the Catholic Worker movement, wrote and spoke what he termed Easy Essays, rhyming moral and political teachings. Mine won't rhyme, I'm not yet sure of the moral and political import.
We number between 30 and 70 walkers. 30 yesterday walking our longest distance yet in one day, 21 miles, on one of the hottest days for us yet, 96. We sought shade, drank much water, ate salt, encouraged those feeling sick to ride, as we strode down Route 1 from Dumfries, Virginia to Fredricksburg. 70 in Washington DC, perhaps because of the draw of the city, and our prospects for a dense program of praying at auction and prison sites of captive human beings sold as property--and the juxtaposition with the heart of our nation, as Billy put it, "the gut of the beast."
Of that number we usually have approximately 15-20% African-American, 15% Japanese, a speckling of people from outside the US, rarely an African. The remainder are European-American. Black people lead our procession. Buddhist monks and nuns, mostly from this country, follow. Then everybody else so the color looks dark at the head of the line, less dark next, lightest finally. (you can see an earlier essay of mine, Procession, for details).
Currently, the sequence is changing: black people are now sometimes mixing with white people in the procession. But emphatically I must add --mixture is a quality of our group that is surprising to many onlookers, draws their attention, usually a respectful attention. When we rest, eat, slumber, attend or give programs, on most occasions when not in procession, we are a mixed race assembly. We do not practice segregation. This is the first time in my life I've been with such a community; I am overjoyed.
We're sheltered by the generosity and good spirit of local communities. We've slept most often in churches, but also in community centers, YM and YWCAs, one night in tents on the grounds of a rural church near Washington, and most memorably, in one of the largest shelters in the US. Founded by Mitch Snyder, operated by the Community of Creative Nonviolence, it is one quarter mile from the White House.
Our food also, until two days ago, is provided by local communities. We sometimes eat sumptuously, lots of chicken, ham, vegetables, salad, our food graced by the presence of those who've provided it, and sometimes we eat sparsely, dining on a pilgrim staple--peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, an apple or orange, some fruit juice. In the South, so far, we've more often had to provide our own food. This is not so much a reflection of a lack of welcome as the difficulty of organizing.
We usually eat lunch outside, even in the rain (hoping for a sheltered spot), while breakfast and dinner are inside. For me the best meals include the community, and come with an explanation of who brought the food.
Free time is scarce, regrettably. We are either walking (2 to 8 hours daily, 1 day out of 7 for rest), giving or attending an evening program, touring a sequence of sites (like today in Fredricksburg: auction block, slave housing, river where people later sold were brought by ship), early black Baptist church, or we're in some form of meeting about internal dynamics. To my chagrin, we have little free time. I need that time to write these essays. I allow myself the privilege of writing, believing it is important to others, and knowing it is vital to me. Not doing this writing would be like constant diarrhea (if you'll pardon the distasteful image): eat with no nutrients staying in the system, be a pilgrim without the digestion and incorporation of the experience.
In my limited free time, I journal (early in the morning before most are awake), write these essays (dashing to either a college or commercial computer center), correspond (by both postcard and e-mail--thank you all for your regular writing to me by e-mail, I deeply appreciate it.), read (books and other literature on our themes), scout the local region, meet people, and make photographs supplemental to what I do when on official duty with the Pilgrimage. We also shop, swim, eat something special, and sleep during off-duty moments.
And finally, referring to the last of my sister's questions, we regularly have special evening events to attend or make. For instance, in DC, about 10 of us performed in the theater piece designed by one of our founders, Ingrid Askew. Called "A Gospel Requiem: The Interfaith Pilgrimage of the Middle Passage," we presented it to about 50 people in Shiloh Baptist Church located in one of the most downtrodden neighborhoods of the Capital. On other occasions, as in Camden at the Friends Meeting House, we were feted with foot and back massages, dinner, an African drumming group, dancers, and other performers from the region. "A taste of Africa," one might say, and personally I'm most pleased to be at a Quaker hosting site.
All these ingredients fit together for me: a ship. The water is the series of communities hosting and experiencing us. Prayer is one of the sources of wind or motive power. Our willingess to make this pilgrimage is our sail structure--we catch the spirit by subjecting ourselves to heat, pavement, traffic, myriad other people, minimal free time, new types of food, a different sleep spot most every night. The ship itself is our procession, this line of human beings of variegated colors sailing across four continents.