My
text-in-context proposal stems directly from the notes I took on 3 July after
seeing the Roman bodies in the Docklands museum.
“It feels very
wrong to have witnessed those bodies, to have looked at those people. The
science inscribed on their plates is suggestive of how they suffered – almost exclusively
of how they suffered. We do not know how they lived. Who are you, Roman teenage
boy buried with four-year-old infant? Who are you, infant whose bones are minuscule, who was found in a wooden box not much bigger than a shoebox? Who
are you, recently-found woman whose perhaps-baby is not with her in her new
glass coffin? Were you a Jew, whose dust is still not dust, whose soul is not
with G-d? How long would it have taken? Are you glad to be marginally remembered
by me, who reads your dental history and feels wholly moved, intensely sorry
for you?”
I hereby propose an exploration of the dehumanization of the Roman dead in connection with
Bernardine Evaristo’s The Emperor’s Babe.
In the book, Zuleika gives Alba explicit instructions about her burial. She “wanted
to be important,” wanted to be remembered (249). But even if Alba did as was
requested, we know that Zuleika wouldn’t have been truly remembered, not really. In an exhibit like the one at the
Docklands museum, she would have been bones under glass with a note about her dental
hygiene.
I am going to write about Zuleika’s final request in the context of
what the Roman people actually get. It’s immoral to reduce these people – after
all, they were people, not just
examples of arthritis or other diseases – to the statistics that they are now
lauded as. It’s immoral for the museums in London to take them from their requested resting places in the
name of education, believing that because these Romans were from Londinium to London they still belong. In this paper, I’m going to tell you why.
No comments:
Post a Comment