We Are Descended From Giants

We Are Descended From Giants.

On my father’s side, some of my ancestors were rounded up in the night by French proto-communists and jailed, then beheaded. The survivors (2 children) fled to Canada, where they lived in poverty and obscurity for years. Later the French government murdered the oldest of the two because he made his whereabouts known.

This former noble family lived in the wilds of Canada, working as lumberjacks and builders on the harshest frontier in the world. From silk sheets and perfume to rough wool blankets and mosquito bites.

And yet they survived, married, had families, and produced heirs. Their suffering would not have been made better by complaining but only by effort. 10 generations later, their descendants are still speaking about their courage and sacrifice.

On my mother’s side, they were an old independent German tribe following a mix of the old ways and Christianity. We had a credo.

“Never live where the king can tax you, send your sons to die in foreign wars, or where the church can tell you what to believe.”

So they lived in the liminal spaces of the world. Over 550 years ago they moved to the Dutch swamps (now drained), later to the Russian wastelands, and eventually to the Canadian wilderness. The hardest places to live on the planet.

They preferred the sovereignty of voluntary hardship over the comfort of being some outside king’s thrall. They sacrificed and suffered to be free.

Their last migration was from the Russian Volga region to the east coast and then to Canada by sea in an old, rotten boat they called the Black Ship because when they bought the thing, it was covered in thick mold. Barely seaworthy. It was all they could afford at the time.

At the port in Vladivostok they were told that none of the children in the family would survive the long trip to England, the resupply location before crossing the Atlantic, and that many of the close to 100 adults would die as well from disease and hardship. Because of this, no one would captain or crew the ship, not wanting to watch the people in their care die or have the old boat fall apart on the dangerous voyage.

The only ones who would hire on were an old, widowed drunk of a captain and one sailor. The men of the family had to learn to sail quickly.

Despite the dangers, they were determined to leave before Russia fell apart socially and economically and descended into chaos—the precursor to the communist revolution that heavily targeted Germans in Russia. They saw it coming because they were wise people with vision.

They sailed from the Port of Vladivostok south along the coasts of East Asia, passing Shanghai, China, and Hong Kong. Entering into Southeast Asia, they passed Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), Vietnam; Singapore; and onto South Asia, Ceylon (Sri Lanka), Calicut, and the whole India coast.

Along the Arabian Peninsula and East Africa: Aden, Yemen (at the southern tip of the Arabian Peninsula), Mogadishu, Somalia, and Mombasa, Kenya.

Around the very dangerous Cape of Good Hope in South Africa, then up West Africa to Luanda, Angola; Lagos, Nigeria; and Dakar, Senegal. Last stop in Africa: Casablanca, Morocco.

Into Europe, around the Algarve to Lisbon, Portugal, and La Coruña, Spain, around the Bay of Biscay to Brest, France, and onto Plymouth, England, where they spent 3 years working as skilled furniture and cabinetmakers, saving for the transatlantic voyage.

At each of these dangerous and disease-ridden ports, they would have to dock, buy supplies, make repairs, and then get underway again. No wonder my family became so good at learning new languages.

A rough estimate of the distance is around 22,000–25,000 nautical miles, and it took them close to a year due to the poor conditions of their boat and the need for constant resupply.

On the voyage, everyone under the age of 16 died of disease as predicted. It was devastating to the family that put so much effort into creating ideal conditions for their children.

Once they had enough money saved, they took the voyage across the Atlantic.

They first tried to immigrate to the USA as a group, but when they got there, the US had an unofficial halt on land grants for 3 years. Not wanting to wait or live in the city, they went to Canada and got a land grant in the Saskatchewan prairie wilderness.

Trees were rare where they settled, so at first they lived in soddies, huts made from the earth of the Saskatchewan prairie. They farmed and saved money to import wood for a proper house. It took a few years. Meanwhile, they had a new generation of children to replace what was so tragically lost.

Looking back on the hardship that my ancestors faced, willingly, without complaint, I am humbled and strengthened. What they did to survive and secure a future for themselves and their descendants inspires me to action. I will honor their legacy by having children of my own, by stoically working hard to create a better place for my descendants, and by telling their story.

Each one of us has similar stories in our past. Our ancestors went through great and awe inspiring challenges so that we could exist today. Nothing you go through will equal what they faced. And yet they survived, thrived, married, had children, found work, fought great odds, and made their mark on history.

There are no excuses for giving up. Honor your ancestors, even if you don’t know their stories. Now is your time to make your mark. Become the man or woman that you are meant to be.

(The photo is not them, but it sure looks like one of theirs.)