The James River

Rolling along

Four days in Richmond, VA and many miles biking its streets and along the river that runs through it. I first learned of Lumpkin Slave Jail from Free Egunfemi. She was one of the collaborators working with producer Kelley Libbey on our Localore project based in Richmond. Free built one of her shrines on the spot, part of her effort toward what she called “commemorative justice.” I road across a parking lot and mucked my way across a grassy area soaked through by Shockoe Creek to a small patch running alongside the interstate highway. There’s a marker where the Slave Jail once stood, where Robert Lumpkin committed unspeakable acts. Lumpkin ran an inn next door to the jail, renting rooms to travelers and slave traders. He set up a home there, too, where he kept his family, taking a slave child named Mary who, at 13, bore the first of five children. Lumpkin is buried up on one of Richmond’s high hills. I thought to go find his grave as part of my bicycle explorations the next day, but after several hours, and with the sun getting low in the sky, I turned a corner and came on a swimming hole under the Nickle Bridge, one of many that span that river. Got off the bike, took off my clothes, and had a long soak. It was chilly and moved fast. I thought about all that water has carried.