The New Yorker Radio Hour - American Exiles in East Africa (Part 2)

Episode Date: March 12, 2019

Pete O’Neal was a street hustler and small-time pimp who gave up crime to fight oppression, founding the Kansas City chapter of the Black Panther Party. Charlotte Hill was a high-school student who gave up a college scholarship to join the Panthers and do community service. Their love affair seemed charmed. But, after O’Neal was convicted, in 1970, on a firearms charge that he considered trumped up, he jumped bail and the couple fled the United States. Since then, O’Neal has never been able to return. After spending time in Sweden and then Algeria, the couple moved to Tanzania, where President Julius Nyerere was welcoming people of the African diaspora to join in the nation-building that followed decolonization. In a village called Imbasseni, not far from Mount Kilimanjaro, Pete and Charlotte O’Neal resumed the community service that had brought them together as Panthers. They founded the United African Alliance Community Center, a combination children’s home, school, library, and Y.M.C.A.—work that they might never have been able to accomplish in their home country. As well documented as the nineteen-sixties were, the staff writer Jelani Cobb notes, the stories of radicals forced into exile are hardly known. The producer KalaLea reports from Tanzania. (Part 2 of a two-part story.) Tshidi Matale, Kiva, and L. D. Brown of Grey Reverend contributed music for this story. New Yorker Radio Hour listeners, we want to hear from you.  We have a few questions about the show and how you listen to it. The survey takes about twenty minutes, and your feedback will help us make our podcast better.  Take the survey here.

From One World Trade Center in Manhattan, this is the New Yorker Radio Hour, a co-production of the New Yorker and WNYC Studios. This is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm Jelani Cobb, a staff writer at the magazine. We're going to pick up our story, American Exiles in East Africa. Last week, we met Pete O'Neill, a former street hustler who became the head of the Kansas City chapter of the Black Panther Party. And Charlotte Hill, a high school student who gave up a college scholarship to do community service with the Panthers. In 1970, Pete O'Neill was convicted on what he considered to be trumped-up charges related to transporting a firearm.

And then he said, oddly, but I'll allow you to stay out on bail. That was the funniest thing. I could not understand why he did that. Now, you know, you've seen enough crime movies. When they sentence you, they put the handcuffs on you and they take you away. Pete was suspicious, afraid he was being set up. One day I was at the YMCA. This policeman came in, and he said, I want to talk to you. I said, man, I'll have anything to talk to you.

And he looked at me, and he started crying. And he said, Pete, they're going to kill you. He said, they're going to kill you. And ain't a damn thing I can do about it. Our producer, Kalalia, has been reporting Pete and Charlotte's story for much of the last year. We'll pick up the story there. Pete and Charlotte decided to make a run for it. it. Pete would be jumping bail and fleeing a conviction. It was extremely risky, and the police were watching.

We were under 24-hour surveillance every day. There were helicopters that would fly around and shine lights in our bedroom window to harass us. There was police cars outside of our apartment building who would, they would have eight-hour shifts. They would get a ride from Kansas City across the state to St. Louis, where they would board a plane for New York. The plan was this. At midnight, a friend would call and say, Hey, man, I'm getting ready to turn in now. I'll see you tomorrow.

That meant the car was ready for them. We, of course, had to be in disguise. We were trying to look like a newlywed couple. I had a suit and a tie, and Charlotte had a wig. get a fur coat. I had gotten this cashmere coat with a little mint collar and had on my makeup and I borrowed my sister's wig. That wig was itchy and I wasn't used to that because here I'd been wearing a natural fur for a very long time. But to get out of the country,

first they'd have to get out of the building. Now the apartment building we lived in was unique. There were three apartment buildings in a row. Okay, the police were watching the apartment building we were in. But that if you went down in the basement of that apartment building, there was a passageway to the next apartment building. And if you're in that, you could go to... On a cold night in November, Pete and Charlotte sat in their bedroom fully dressed with the lights off and waited for the call.

Midnight came, no phone call. One o'clock came, two o'clock came. And we was like, this ain't going to happen. So I'd taken off my itchy wig, and he had taken off his clothes, and we were like, I don't know what's going to happen after that, but it doesn't look like we're going to escape. It was almost 3 o'clock in the morning when the phone rang. It was go time.

They made their way down to the basement, farther from their place and stepped outside into the alleyway. They crawled on their hands and knees into the trunk of a getaway car. It was very, very hectic, and when we were getting in the trunk of that car, I remember I knocked my knee, and we were able to get out at some point and get in the car. As we start to enter St. Louis, Dawn is breaking. Every car you looked at, they looked at.

as if each one was staring at it. I said, oh, God. They arrived at the airport with a small wad of cash, their best clothes on their backs, and fake IDs to get on the plane. We weren't supposed to call each other by our names. I can remember both of us stumbling in our conversations, and I would call him Pete, and he would call me Charlotte,

and we'd have to remind each other not to do that. But they made it to New York without a problem, and they connected with members of the Communist Party of New York who put them up in a safe house. We stayed there for a few days. There was comrades who were helping us there, and they were part of the Underground Railroad. And the plan was we would go to Sweden

and then we'd try to make our way to Algeria. But the comrades may have been a little nervous about the Kansas City fugitives they were hiding. So I'd note that we weren't supposed to see. He said, you got to be careful with these guys. You know, they're coming from like Dodge City, and they might be packing. John and I didn't have a fork between the two of them. They were given their new documents, and they took a taxi to the airport.

It suddenly hit them. They were leaving their home country and had no idea when they'd be back. I remember the last song that we heard. was Michael Jackson singing, I'll be there. I'll be there. I said, Charlotte, I said, we need to remember that. That's going to be our song from now on.

We get to the airport. And when we get in, I said, Charlotte, listen, sister, you really don't have to do this. I said, you can go back, nobody's looking for you. You can go on with your scholarship and go on. You can go on and do this if this is what you want to do.

And she said, no, brother chairman, I'm down for doubles. I'm ready for this. I'm not. I said, let's go. And we headed north on our way to Sweden. Why Sweden? Well, Sweden, remember? Think about that now.

There were so many draft evaders there who were not being returned to the United States. A lot of people there. So we thought we had a better chance. A communist youth group helped them find a place to stay just outside of Stockholm. They didn't know us from Adam, but they welcome us into that commune when they found out we was panthers and all that, you know. They like slept on mattresses on the floor and you would have all these confidors and everybody would have what you call a colchaloon. That's a kind of stove or heater. But the people really welcome us.

They really, really did. And very progressive people. I didn't know white people like those people existed. They took us into their hearts. They took us into their homes. This was a wonderful, wonderful experience. They were there for nearly six months before they continued their journey. When it was time to say goodbye, their sweetest hosts wanted to see them off

at the airport. We'll go to the airport with you. I said, oh, but you can. I said, we're getting on the bus. I think it's just for people who, this is an airline bus. They said, no, we'll ride our bicycles. It's 900 degrees below zero. It had to be.

No. No place could be that cold. No place. They said, we'll ride our bicycles. And they did. They rode bicycles all the way to the airport to see us off. Like motor bicycle? No, heck no.

I'm talking about pumping bicycles. Charlotte and Pete were headed to Algeria to join a group of Black Panthers who had relocated there. In the late 60s, the second Algerian president, Wari Bumetian, offered a home to armed anti-colonial groups all over the world.

It included housing plus a generous monthly stipend. The ANC of South Africa, the PLO, the IRA, and other groups had members, operating in Algeria. Eldridge Cleaver, the Panthers Minister of Information, took up Bumetian's offer, setting up an international Panther headquarters. Pete and Charlotte, along with several other Panthers, joined him.

For the first time, they experienced not just camaraderie from other radicals, but official recognition. The two years that we stayed in Algeria was beautiful. Beautiful, wow. It was beautiful in that this feeling of camaraderie. with not only Panthers, but other freedom fighters who was there was very, very strong. And we were actually treated as an embassy. We could bring in cars, you know, without duty, bringing people easily.

We were even allowed to have our weapons, all of that, just like an embassy. But there were some real cultural differences, and the longer the Panthers stayed, the more this became an issue. We were very naive in understanding the importance of being in an Islamic society. Most of us had never experienced that, and here we were wearing many skirts, you know, where the Muslim sisters there, they might have many skirts under their hijabs, you know, but they were draped down. We would be walking through the streets and men would be harassing us, I think most of us thought it was just racism.

But in hindsight, it was the way we were looking in mini-skirts, you know, and in a society where all the women were supposed to be very modest. And then the issue started getting even more personal. The Algerian women were very drawn to the brothers. So many of them would come to the headquarters and, you know, try to catch and try to be girlfriends. And the community did not like that. So where we had good relations with the government,

with the community, it wasn't good. That's Charlotte O'Neill, talking about her time living as a Black Panther in Algeria. Our story, American Exiles in East Africa, continues in a moment. I'm Jelani Cobb, and this is The New Yorker Radio Hour. You're listening to The New Yorker Radio Hour. Thanks for joining us.

I'm David Remnick. And I'm Jelani Cob, a staff writer at the magazine. You're listening to American Exiles in East Africa, a story produced for the New Yorker Radio Hour by Kalalia. It's about Charlotte and Pete O'Neill, two members of the Black Panther Party who went into exile during the years that the Panthers were being persecuted by the U.S. government. Earlier, we heard how Pete and Charlotte fled Kansas City in disguise.

They made their way to Algeria, where the Panthers had set up an international headquarters. politically, the country welcomed leftist radicals, but as Americans of the 1960s, they came to find Algeria stifling. And so that's one of the reasons why you decided to leave, why did you decide to go to Tanzania at that point? Well, you know, we saw that we would never probably be able to be real comfortable there and raising our child there.

Charlotte and Pete's son was born in Algeria. By 1973, many ex-outs. Black Panthers had left the country. Charlotte and Pete among them. More and more brothers and sisters who were already in Tanzania started telling us, y'all need to

come here as a socialist government. President Errori through his ambassador had already put out the word that you know if you were into nation building, especially Africans from the diaspora, that you would be welcome.

As the nation's first president, Julius Nierere, implemented an economic program that many labeled socialist. He introduced a policy of collectivization in the country's agricultural system. Julius Nieri was the first president of Tanzania after it gained independence from Great Britain in 1961. He was one of the primary architects of something called African socialism. Under that banner, there were black people from around the world united in an effort to reverse the economic exploitation of colonialism. influences. First and foremost, the peasant, the peasant, because he's the producer of the food

for the majority of the population of any country in Africa at present. So first of all, take the peasant and treat him as a god. From 1968 to 1974, Tanzania was home to the highest population of African Americans in East Africa, an estimated 800 people. They were affectionately known as wa-afro, meaning the people who wore afros. It was 1972, and once again, Charlotte and Pete were in search of a new home. In Tanzania, they were greeted at the airport in Dar Salam by another Black Panther and people from back home in Kansas. And I remember the day we got off the plane, and they had a...

beach house and they took us to that beach house. And I can remember they had all this pineapple. I never tasted pineapple like that, all kind of fruits. And they made us so welcome. There was a poster that had been made of Brother Pete and myself. And when I saw that poster, here we are in Tanzania, and that poster is there. I said, man, we're supposed to be here. You know. What did the poster have one? It's Brother Pete holding a gun. I think. think it's a rifle, and I'm standing a little behind him, and I'm like holding my hand on his hand. Right away, Charlotte embraced Tanzania as her new home, but Pete was uneasy. It felt too far from

everything he knew, and the weather in Dar Salaam, the heat was overwhelming. Unlike in Algeria, the Tanzanian government wasn't offering any financial support. Pete and Charlotte were going to be on their own. Tanzania is a huge country, twice the size of California. It has a coastline along the Indian Ocean for more than 800 miles. In the northeast, it's lush, rich with wildlife and beautiful birds. After they have been in Dar Salaan for over a year, they found some land to rent in the north on a coffee farm. They love the landscape and the cooler climate.

They bought a few cows, some pigs, rabbits, and eventually a thousand chickens. That was our first experience with growing our own food and raising animals. It was so scary because you have to sit on a very low stool, and that cow looks big as an elephant. After nearly six years of renting, a friend gifted them about four acres of land nearby. In a village called Embassini, not far from Mount Kilimanjaro. They had been in limbo for practically a decade.

In Sweden, in Algeria, Dar Salam, and on a coffee farm. In Abasani, they finally had a place to call home, and they started building. First they built a house for the family. By then, their second child was born, a girl. clearing the land, making our own bricks. We had plastic on the windows,

and I used to be so proud of the calluses in my hands, you know, because that identified me as a worker. And I've always had a lot of pride in being a worker. But what they had in mind was much larger than a house. Pete and Charlotte had dreamed of building some kind of center to serve the community. They wanted to continue the work. they had been doing back home with the Panthers. They named the project the United African Alliance Community Center, or U-A-A-A-A-C.

Mostly they call it the center. To get to the center, you drive a mile or so up a seriously bumpy, unpaved road. It's better if you have a four-wheel drive. At the entrance, there are huge metal doors with the center's name in red, black, and green. Another Black Panther, who used to live nearby, donated $15,000 to put a fresh water tap outside the gate, which means anyone can fetch water at any time of the day. And that was a big deal for this village. And on the door, there's a small painted picture of a Black Panther, the party's logo, plus a message.

This says, Chico Lababu. We will never tolerate a hungry child in our presence. have and never will period from 1966 to 2018 and onwards the struggle continues. And it's a picture of Black Panther image on the side. The center's a combination of a school, a library, a YMCA, and an orphanage. Inside you can usually find Pete fussing with the kids. Everyone next you are making my voice. Poooooo.

How you doing, madame? Where, way? Okay, I'm Sangha, and this is the UAACC, United African Alliance and Community Center. So what is this building here? Yeah, this is the English class. We usually conduct our class there. Also yoga is down there,

to the very same class and other activities. The buildings are made from cement, But they're very colorful, painted with murals of African and African American leaders. They're connected by gravel paths, lined with vibrant sculptures. And all around are trees, banana, mulberry, and avocado. There's also a vegetable garden. It's cared for by the children. And of course, there's a basketball court.

So tell me with this building over here. Hi. This building. Okay, that one is the art class. Yeah, that's art class. Okay, what about this one? That also is an English class also. Yes.

Because you have beginners English and intermediate English. So this is for beginners and that's for intermediate class. Also for computer, that's also doing some practice there. Okay, yeah. Here we have different programs. We have carpentry, we have engineering. The center also functions as an orphanage. Between 2008 and 2010, they took in about 20 children from around Embesini Village.

The village chairman helps choose the kids who need the most support. Okay, we had... Irene, who was the first graduate. She was always number one in her classes. She's now going to college. There's Amici. I think this is DeMiriam. This is Salamani.

There's Halima. That's Joyce. This is Alia, the boy that came here, the big boy that came here earlier when he got out of school. Elmire, he's the electrician. Now, this is Miriam, so I don't know who this other one I said was Miriam is. This is Jackie, and this is Felix.

And there's usually college students around. Charlotte and Pete have been hosting groups from all over the world for almost 30 years. Where the rest of the group does? Where's the rest of the group? They're not here yet. Oh, they're up? No.

No. Anyway, glad to have you all back. Thank you very much. How you doing? In the main dining hall, at the center of the compound, there's a large frame poster on the wall of Charlotte and Pete. The picture first appeared in a Kansas City newspaper before they left the United States.

Pete is holding a rifle, and Charlotte is standing by his side. It's a reminder of how they got there. Pete still has a rifle. He keeps it for security and for the occasional wild animal. He seems like a much different man. Different than the street hustler he was in the early 60s, and different from the Black Panther he became. When people speak about the Black Panther Party,

they put an emphasis on confrontation, guns, and things of that nature. And, of course, that did happen. We were not a nonviolent organization, and we believed in meeting violence with violence. That was our foundational belief. The confrontations, the berets, the guns, were not the crown, the jewel in the crown of the Black Panther Party. That would be the community work that we did.

That is what gives me the greatest pride. It was while working on the Black Panther's Free Breakfast for School Children program, back in Kansas City, where Charlotte and P had fallen in love. Again, it's almost like a... a full circle situation where, you know, the breakfast of the school children is still going on, except it's going on in this village, you know. You think you could do the kind of work that you're doing here in the United States? You think it actually would be possible that you would have the resources, the support?

I'm prone to say, I don't think it would have been possible or it would have been very, very difficult. For one reason, it's because of the land. It's not easy to get land in America, you know. And I think we would have been completely different people. You know, the fact that we have lived here for so long, I think that draws people to want to visit, to want to support, you know, the fact that we were Panthers and where we have carved out this bit of paradise in the middle of an African village.

You know, people are very drawn to that. So I'm not sure if that could have happened in a similar way if we had stayed in Kansas City. On some small scale, Pete and Charlotte O'Neill have realized the goals outlined by Bobby Seal and Huey Newton in their original vision for the Black Panther Party, something they could not have done in the climate of racial hostility in the United States of the 1960s. We've learned conclusively that the FBI harassed and talked. targeted the Black Panthers. But the legacy of radical activism of the 1960s remains unsettled, even a half-century later.

In 1998, Pete filed a petition to have his conviction overturned. It was denied. And a petition for a pardon that was sent to President Obama went nowhere. Pete is near 80 now and doesn't expect he'll ever see America again. I'd like to think that home is here. I know I feel very, very comfortable here, but sadly or perhaps tragically, they're still a part of me,

perhaps only in my mind, that is on 12th Street that doesn't exist anymore, in Kansas City. Charlotte, since she was never charged with any crime, continues to go back and forth. She speaks to American students like she was doing when I met her at Howard University, 30,

years ago. And she raises money for the United African Alliance Community Center. The week I spent that the center was an especially busy one because Pete and his helpers were renovating a room for Charlotte's elderly father, Mr. Hill. His internet connection, we just got hooked up today. His varnish telephones or his friends and calling from the state. And I'm going to have this on. I'm going to have a Netflix. on the TV. I'm going to have everything set up there. Mr. Hill spent his whole life in Kansas City. He's in his 90s now, and he's finally accepted Charlotte's offer to spend his last years in Tanzania.

It's a big moment for this family. Well, we've arrived at Kilimanjah Airport, and we're waiting for the plane to come in. I'm not sure if it has or not. But we've come with two cars so we can carry Charlotte and MZEZE and then the other car can carry the luggage. How's it? I'm very good. How was the trip? How was the trip?

Beautiful. Great, great. Good trip. Yes, good to see. It's Pete here. Oh, there he is. Oh, you're doing. How are you doing?

I know you did. I know you did. How are you doing? It's good to be here. And to see this old man. Here I am. Do you realize we have our 50th anniversary next year? That's what he said. 50 years.

How do you stand each other? No, that's not the question. The question is how in the world has she put up with me? Hey, please. Yes, sir. I'm glad that you met this young lady. Well, that's what you say now. That's what you said now

But that's what you said back I know it A male has a Oh we're home Yes Yeah As we drive up to the center A man walks into the middle of the road

wearing a tribal mask He stops the car Then all of the sudden We're surrounded by a crowd of people Some are singing And others are waving and smiling I'm a surprised I'm as surprised as Mr. Hill is.

Neither of us know it, but Pete has invited traditional artists to welcome Mr. Hill to his new home. I couldn't stop thinking about how different this was from America and how much more respect is paid to elders here. Mr. Hill has tears in his eyes. He's leaning forward, holding on to the seats. He reminds me of a boy who can't wait for his next adventure. You know, I think if he had ended up in a nursing home, that probably would take him out of it, you know, because he's such a people person.

And he thrives on being around people and being sometimes center of attention and all of that, you know. So I vowed to my ancestors and I vowed to my brother and sisters and the rest of the family. I said, Dad is going to be happy for the rest of his days and he's going to have. You've been listening to American Exiles in East Africa, produced by Kalalia. I'm Jelani Cobb, and this is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick, and that's the New Yorker Radio Hour for today. Thanks for listening. Our story, American Exiles in East Africa, was produced with assistance from Meja Mbouya in Tanzania.

Additional music was contributed by CDMittale, Kiva, and El D. Brown. The story draws on Seth Markle's book called A Motorcycle on Hell Run, Tanzanese. Black Power and The Uncertain Future of Pan-Africanism, 1964 through 1974. The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co-production of WNYC Studios and The New Yorker. Our theme music was composed and performed by Meryl Garbus of Tune Yards with additional music by Alexis Quadrata. The New Yorker Radio Hour is supported in part by the Cherina Endowment Fund.