An open dump was later constructed in the community, just 300 metres from the nearest house. Trucks would go “tearing up the street” with no regard to the children playing in the area – Carvery’s brother was run over by one of them at the age of 12.
“There was no regard to us as human beings,” Carvery said.
But the dump actually became a source of income to the men of Africville, who would go through the items tossed in there to salvage anything of value.
“We became the first recyclers,” he said, but even that lead to tragedy. One of the truck drivers told the men about something in his truck, which would make an interesting addition to the moonshine they made in Africville. Three people died – the liquid was poison.
In 1959, well water in the community was tested and found to be extremely polluted – Halifax council was told it was lucky there had never been an outbreak of disease the situation was that bad.
Immediately, council approved installing water lines into Africville, but it was never done. Even at that point, the city leaders knew that Africville was going to be razed to make way for development – something that didn’t begin for another five years.
National media outlets began to take notice of Africville, calling it a slum and embarrassing Halifax officials. The move wasn’t something the people of Africville wanted or needed, said Carvery. They wanted to stay together.
But move they did. Carvery’s great-uncle, Pa Carvery, was the last holdout, begging for the “dignity to die where he lived.”
Work was well underway on the MacKay bridge, however, and Pa’s house was located where the Robie Street exit is today. The firms building the bridge threatened the city that they would sue them $100,000 per day construction was delayed until Pa’s house was gone.
City officials took Pa to a fancy hotel and sat a suitcase full of money in front of him, but Pa still refused to sell.
“You guys think you’re smart, but I told you – I don’t want to sell my land,” Pa told them.
Officials had assumed he was nothing but a poor, uneducated Black man, Carvery said, and would fold the moment a bundle of money was waved in front of his face. True, Pa only had a Grade 3 education, but he was a landowner, rented properties, ran a store and a trucking business.
Nova Scotia Power even cut off power to his house, even though his bills were paid. Pa simply shrugged and pulled out the oil lamps he’d used long before electricity ran through Africville.
“He was the last warrior of the generation,” said Carvery, but eventually, he, too, folded. The bridge was two storeys above his ramshackle little home, and large boulders were perched precariously along the edge, leaving his family terrified they would tumble down on him one night.
“Five years later, he was dead. That generation was all dead within five years – they couldn’t adjust to life outside of Africville.”
It was in their memory that Carvery fought for decades to have an official apology given to the residents of Africville and a financial settlement made that would allow them to rebuild their church and construct an interpretive centre and park in its place. This week, that 25-year dream came true.
“It’s really surreal,” Carvery said following one of his first public talks about Africville after the apology was made this week. “I’m still floating. But at the same time, I know the work has just begun. There’s still work the society and myself have to do to make sure this falls into place. The apology is the most important part – it’s not even for us, it’s for those who came before us. I was merely an instrument for them.”
Carvery, who is currently the chair of the Halifax Regional School Board, watched the Grade 4/5 class at Temperance Street School perform a number of plays in honour of African Heritage Month. He was so impressed he vowed to be in touch with the local school board to try to arrange to bring the students to Halifax.
“I think the people working with the students did a wonderful job – it’s impressive in the diverse presentation. It wasn’t just African kids, it was all the kids, and that’s what African Heritage Month is all about. It’s hope for the future.”
