upworthy

civil war

Photos by Niki Colemont (used with permission)

Niki Colemont captures squirrels in their most delightful moments.

Niki Colemont was just four years old when his home country of Rwanda erupted into violence in 1990. To escape the civil war, which would eventually lead to the brutal genocide of more than 800,000 Rwandans in 100 days, Colemont and his older sister were sent away to Belgium. They would never make it back home.

Colemont grew up in an adoptive family in Belgium, learned English by watching TV shows and movies, and found an unexpected source of healing from his childhood trauma as an adult: photographing red squirrels. He is now an international award-winning nature photographer who travels the world capturing wildlife, and he shared some of his journey of loss and healing in an interview with Upworthy.

Q: How were you and your family impacted by the genocide in Rwanda?

A: I left Rwanda at a very early age, so I don’t have many direct memories of what actually happened. I only began to truly understand the genocide after watching the movie Hotel Rwanda. It had a deep impact on my family. My father was killed during the war, and my mother passed away shortly after giving birth to me.

Growing up without our parents gave me a constant feeling of loneliness and a sense of not really knowing where I belonged in the world. It also had a profound effect on my sister, who left Rwanda at the age of nine. She carried many questions about what happened and often wondered about our past. One of her biggest dreams was to return to Rwanda to find her birthplace.

For me, much of my early life was about trying to find my way in a new country while carrying the weight of a history I was still learning to understand.

- YouTube www.youtube.com


Q: You were close to your sister, who died in 2019. (I'm so sorry.) Can you share a bit about her and the impact she had on your life?

A: She was a familiar face in a not-so-familiar country, and it was a privilege to have her in my life. What I loved most was her personality. She was always happy, always smiling, and she carried so much knowledge about our past and our family. She often knew the things I never thought to ask, and now that she’s gone, so much of that information feels lost with her.

Her passing left me with a sense that part of my past disappeared too. There are so many questions I wish I could ask her, things I’ll never get answers to. Even recently, when I discovered that I have a brother—something my adoptive parents had kept a secret. I immediately thought of how much I would have wanted to share that moment with her. She had such an impact on me, and her absence is something I still feel deeply every day.

Q: How has your photography work helped you process that loss?

My photography has helped me process loss in ways I didn’t expect. A big part of it has been the reactions I receive from my community, especially on Instagram. People connect with the images sometimes in really touching ways. I’ll get comments like, ''This is the best thing I’ve seen on the internet today,' or a parent will share that their child loved a particular photo, like the one of the squirrel with the dinosaur. Those responses mean the world to me. They give me the energy to keep creating, even on difficult days.

I never started out expecting anything to come from my photography; I just followed ideas as they came to me. But realizing that my work can bring joy and inspiration to others has been deeply healing. Combined with the support I’ve received from my girlfriend’s family, it’s given me a sense of belonging and purpose. Photography has helped me not only process grief, but also discover where I fit in the world.

niki colemont, photography, squirrels, wildlife, nature, animals Hey, whatcha got there, pal? Photo by Niki Colemont (used with permission)

Q: Have you ever gone back to Rwanda? If not, do you have a desire to?

A: I haven’t gone back to Rwanda yet. For a long time, I told myself I wouldn’t return—I felt almost guilty for having the privilege of a good life elsewhere, with reliable healthcare and a steady job, while so many others back home didn’t have the same.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen how much Rwanda has changed—stronger schools, fewer financial struggles, and a real sense of growth. Now that I’ve found my passion in wildlife photography, I’ve been thinking a lot about visiting the Virunga Mountains to capture its incredible wildlife.

Returning also carries a deeper meaning for me. My sister always dreamed of going back to reconnect with her roots. She was saving to make that trip before she passed away. I feel like going back to Rwanda, to the place where I was born, would be a way to honor her dream as well as discover more of my own.

niki colemont, photography, squirrels, wildlife, nature, animals, Squinderella? Cindsquirrella? Photo by Niki Colemont (used with permission)

Q. You say photographing squirrels has helped you heal from trauma. What is it that makes squirrels so special?

A: Squirrels have such unique personalities. They’re chaotic, persistent, and endlessly curious. They can also be surprisingly clumsy, like when they misjudge a jump or forget where they buried their stash of nuts… which is how we end up with unexpected walnut trees!

They have incredible skills that set them apart from other animals. For example, they can rotate their ankles 180 degrees, which allows them to hang upside down or escape danger quickly. They’re also surprisingly human-like in some ways; they can push and carry things, they’re highly intelligent, and I’ve even seen them wipe their mouths on branches and groom their tails. They’re actually very clean animals.

I think what makes them so special to me is that I see parts of myself in them. I’m also a bit clumsy, forgetful, and chaotic so when I watch squirrels, I feel a sense of connection. Photographing them has been both healing and joyful because it’s like capturing little reflections of my own personality in nature.

niki colemont, photography, squirrels, wildlife, nature, animals A squirrel reflects.Photo by Niki Colemont (used with permission)

Q: How did you discover that you enjoyed photography?

A: I first discovered my love for photography in a very simple way with an iPhone 4. I started taking black-and-white landscape shots, just experimenting without any specific subject or real knowledge of what I was doing. Still, I felt a strong pull to keep going, because every picture, good or bad, seemed to leave a footprint and tell its own story.

In 2010, I began a relationship with my girlfriend, and that’s when I met my father-in-law. He owned a Nikon D3100 DSLR, and I was instantly intrigued by this big, professional-looking camera. I borrowed it for a year and dove into experimenting. I learned everything by making mistakes, and it took me quite a while to figure out how to shoot manually.

During that time, I saved up for my own camera. By 2015, I felt ready and bought my first DSLR, a Nikon D5200. With it, I’ve been fortunate to win a few photography awards.

Looking back, I realize it was my father-in-law who gave me that initial spark to start this journey. That spark grew into a passion that continues to inspire me every time I pick up my camera.

Q: What is one of your wildest photography experiences?

A: One of my wildest photography experiences has to be winning the National Geographic Public Choice Award in 2022 and the fact that it was for one of my squirrel photographs made it even more special. I had been a finalist back in 2019, but actually winning was on a whole different level.

It was the biggest boost I’ve ever had in my photography journey, not just because of the recognition, but because it touched something deeply personal. For a long time, I believed my work wasn’t good enough to achieve anything significant. That feeling was tied to my background. I was adopted and have always been incredibly grateful to my adoptive parents for giving me a second chance in life. But I also felt like I owed them something, that I had to support them no matter what, and that nothing I did was ever enough.

As a child, when I made mistakes or had disagreements, I was warned that I could be sent back to Rwanda. That fear stayed with me, and it made me scared to fail. I lost a lot of self-confidence because of it.

So when I won that award, it wasn’t just a trophy, it was proof to myself that I could achieve something on my own terms. It gave me the confidence I had been missing, and it made me believe in my work in a way I never had before.

Q: What do you hope people take away when they see your work?

When people see my work, I hope they feel the same happiness I felt while creating it even if it’s just for a split second. I want my photographs to give them a moment where they can forget the bad things in life and simply enjoy the beauty in front of them.

For me, it’s not just about taking pictures; it’s about spreading joy and, in my own way, raising 'squirrel awareness.' Squirrels are incredibly intelligent and full of personality, and I love showing the world just how special they really are.

niki colemont, photography, squirrels, wildlife, nature, animals Squirrels ride dinosaurs? Who knew?Photo by Niki Colemont (used with permission)

Q: What are your dreams and wishes for the future?

I’m a pretty simple guy and tend to take life as it comes. But if I had one wish, it would be to spread even more squirrel awareness all around the world. I’m not someone who enjoys being in the spotlight but for my squirrels, I’m happy to make an exception, because they truly deserve all the glamour. :p

My dream is to keep sharing my story and my photographs on a global scale, reaching more people who can appreciate these amazing little animals. And honestly, I’d be grateful if people could find their way to my Instagram, because that’s my favorite place to spread joy and connect with others through my work.

You can follow Niki Colemont on Instagram to see more of his delightful photography.

Education

The enslaved man who stole a Confederate ship, sailed to freedom and became a U.S. Congressman

In a unanimous bipartisan move, South Carolina will honor Robert Smalls with the state's first statue of a Black American.

Library of Congress (Public Domain)

Robert Smalls led an extraordinary life.

South Carolina's statehouse boasts some two dozen statues honoring individuals from statesmen to "heroes" of the Confederacy, but there's a glaring omission from the lineup. Up until now, the former Confederate state—where the Civil War began at Fort Sumter and where approximately 1 in 4 residents is Black—has never erected an individual monument of a Black American.

In a unanimous bipartisan decision led by Republican Rep. Brandon Cox, Robert Smalls will become the first to be honored in this way, and his heroic life certainly earned him the accolade. As Cox told the Associated Press, "We’ve got a lot of history, good and bad. This is our good history."

Smalls was born into slavery in Beaufort, South Carolina, in 1839. He and his mother lived together in a small cabin behind their enslaver's mansion until Smalls was sent to Charleston at age 12 to be hired out. When the Civil War broke out in 1861, he was in his early 20s and soon found himself an enslaved crewmember of a ship that was contracted out to the Confederate Army. There he was, an enslaved man sailing a steamboat for an army that was fighting to keep him enslaved.



Robert Smalls dressed in a suitRobert Smalls, S.C. M.C. Born in Beaufort, SC, April 1839Library of Congress

Late one night, when the white crewmembers had all gone ashore, Smalls and the other enslaved crewmembers stole the ship with Smalls as pilot. They sailed to a wharf where they picked up their family members, then they made their way north. The sixteen enslaved people aboard managed to sail right on past Fort Sumter and Fort Moultrie, where Confederate forces were stationed, thanks to Smalls donning a captain's hat and knowing the proper signals to give as they passed. He steered the ship to the naval blockade and turned the ship over to the U.S. Navy.

The enslaved crew and their families were now free Americans.

But Smalls didn't stop there. He provided valuable intelligence to the Union since he knew the Confederate waters well and served for the remainder of the war. He became the first Black person to serve as a pilot for the U.S. Navy and fought 17 Civil War battles as the captain of the very ship he has stolen.

His status as war hero was solidified. But he didn't stop there, either.

large white plantation homeRobert Smalls' house in Beaufort, South CarolinaPublic Domain

He returned to Beaufort in 1864 and used the reward money he's received from turning over the Confederate ship to buy the home of his former enslaver at a tax auction. In just three years, Smalls had gone from enslaved man to war hero and owner of his former owner's property.

And he became well known for it. He started his own business and advocated for public education. The people of Beaufort saw him as a leader and he began to rise politically. He served as a delegate to the State Constitutional Convention in 1868, then as a state representative, then state senator, then as a delegate to the Republican National Convention, and finally as a representative in the U.S. Congress.

He ended up serving five terms in the House of Representatives during the Reconstruction Era, when Black Americans voted in large numbers for the first time and were elected to government positions. According to the National Parks Service, Beaufort was viewed as a symbol of successful Reconstruction policies, with formerly enslaved people engaging in education, politics, and land ownership in the former Confederate county.

- YouTubeyoutu.be

However, the glory of that era didn't last as white Southerners regained political power. By the time Smalls died in 1915, segregation laws were widespread and the freedom that had been so hard won for Black Americans in the South had been curtailed. Even Smalls' incredible life story was largely forgotten by the "Lost Cause" rewriting of Civil War history.

However, the 21st century has seen historians setting the record straight and uplifting heroes like Robert Smalls who have not gotten the national recognition they deserve. After years of lobbying by the community of Beaufort to have Smalls and the reality of the Reconstruction Era recognized, January 2017, President Barack Obama issued an executive order establishing Reconstruction Era National Monument (now known as Reconstruction Era National Historical Park) in Beaufort County in January 2017.

And now South Carolina will erect a statue in Smalls' honor on the grounds of the statehouse. It's worth noting that the idea has been floated for years with bipartisan and biracial support, but had always faced some quiet opposition. Now it looks like everyone's on board, so it's just a matter of working out the exact design and location for the statue.

It's been a long time coming, but South Carolina is finally highlighting history we can all be proud of—a historic step in the right direction.

Democracy

Mississippi's 'Confederate Heritage Month' is wrong and needs to end now

Let's talk about why applying words like "honor" and "heritage" to the Confederacy is ridiculous.

Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash

April Confederate Heritage Month in Mississippi

Governor Tate Reeves of Mississippi has declared April as Confederate Heritage Month in the Magnolia State, marking the 30th year of this ridiculous and wrong "tradition."

If you're wondering how the state's leadership justifies something so backwards in 2023, here are the three reasons listed for recognizing Confederate Heritage Month in the official proclamation:

1) April is when the Civil War, "the costliest and deadliest" war ever fought on American soil, began. (Um, y'all know the Confederates were the ones who started this costly and deadly war, right?)

2) State law designates the last Monday in April as Confederate Memorial Day, "to honor those who served in the Confederacy." (To honor those who did what, now? Served in the Confederacy? So you're not merely memorializing those who tragically died fighting for a wrong-headed, racist cause, but you're "honoring" anyone who "served" that cause? Interesting.)


3) The state wants to "honor all who lost their lives in this war" and "reflect on our nation's past" and "gain insight from our mistakes and successes" and something about "lessons learned yesterday and today," and striving to "understand and appreciate our heritage," and no, none of this makes any sense whatsoever. (If reflection and insight lead you to still honor the Confederacy, you haven't learned a daggone thing, folks.)

First of all, if there's any question about what the Confederates in Mississippi were fighting for, they made it crystal clear in their own official declaration of reasons for secession. Right up top, the very first reason Mississippi listed:

"Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery—the greatest material interest of the world."

Alrighty then.

And if that's not clear enough, in that same document, Mississippi's list of grievances with the United States government included that “it advocates negro equality, socially and politically,” and “it denies the right of property in slaves, and refuses protection to that right on the high seas, in the Territories, and wherever the government of the United States had jurisdiction.

Kinda puts a kink in the whole "the Confederacy was about states' rights, not slavery" argument, eh? Is this the Confederate heritage being honored this month? If not, what is it, exactly?

And let's talk about this idea of "heritage." Mississippi is 145 years old. The Confederacy lasted a whopping four years. Four years is the time between two World Cup finals and less than half the lifespan of "The Office"—hardly something that constitutes a "heritage." Mississippi still talking about its "Confederate heritage" is like someone in their 50s still talking about their high school glory days, only infinitely more embarrassing.

The Confederates were losers, both literally and figuratively. They were on the objectively wrong side of a war, which they themselves initiated, and they lost. There was no glory in fighting a bloody, costly war in order to maintain the institution of slavery. There was no honor in officially documenting racist beliefs about Black people and enlisting troops to kill fellow Americans in defense of those beliefs.

The fact that the Confederates believed so deeply in their cause that tens of thousands of them were willing to die for it doesn't make it right or OK or honorable. It actually makes it worse. Creating a mythology that there was some kind of righteousness in their fight might may make their descendants feel better, but it's fundamentally dishonest. They were on the wrong side of a war that shouldn't have been fought in the first place.

Any time Mississippi puts its racist history on display like this, people say, "Well, it's Mississippi, what do you expect?" I get the impulse, but we should reject that knee-jerk response, wholeheartedly.

First of all, it's not "Mississippi" doing this. Mississippi has the highest percentage of Black residents in the country. In the 1920s, Mississippi actually had a Black majority. Yet the state has elected an unbroken string of white governors—65 of them—since its founding. Does that seem a teensy bit…statistically unlikely, all things being equal?

Of course, things have never been equal in Mississippi, which is the whole point here. It's not "Mississippi" clinging to the Confederacy like a security blanket, it's the people in power in Mississippi. Specifically, it's the white politicians who have maintained power through decades of voter suppression tactics, ranging from poll taxes and literacy tests to sneaky legislative structures to blatantly violent intimidation, that have disenfranchised the state's Black voting population.

Does anyone seriously think "Confederate Heritage Month" represents the overall will of the Blackest state in the union? Let's call it what it is—an exercise of Mississippi's steeped-in-racism power structure and a not-so-subtle way of saying, "We're still in charge here."

As for what we should expect from Mississippi's leadership? Better. We should expect better, more, sooner and faster. The state has shown, in the removal of the Confederate flag from its state flag and the willingness to change school names to stop honoring Confederates, that it is capable of letting go of heroic fantasies about the Confederacy. This is a conscious choice it is making, which shouldn't go unchallenged.

If the state wants to demonstrate that it truly has "gained insight" and "learned lessons" from the past and "understands its heritage," it should stop recognizing the Confederacy with words like "tradition" and "honor" and acknowledge the tragedy and horror that it caused. It's way past time to be honest about that history and stop pretending "Confederate heritage" was ever something to celebrate or take pride in.

In strange-but-true news, the last known surviving spouse of a Civil War veteran just died last month.

How is that even possible? The U.S. Civil War took place from 1861 to 1865, and no one who survived the war is still alive. However, there are two things that make it possible: 1) As much as we might like to imagine that Americans fighting over the right to own Black people was super ancient history, the Civil War was just 160 years ago. That's two 80-year-olds living back to back. 2) Some people live long lives and have unlikely marriages, which makes for fascinating historical stories like this one.

Helen Viola Jackson died December 16 at age 101. She was 17 when she married 93-year-old James Bolin, a widower who had served as a private in the 14th Missouri Cavalry of the Union army, in 1936.

A 17-year-old marrying a 93-year-old definitely raises some eyebrows, but the story is actually kind of sweet.

A statement shared by the Missouri Cherry Blossom Festival offers context to the union:


"She remained largely silent, even among her close family and friends about her link to the 19th century War Between the States, until three years ago, when she decided to share her complete life story as she was working on the details of her funeral with her minister.

Jackson grew up in a family with 10 children and met her husband at church near her home during the height of the Great Depression.

The Daughters of the Union Veterans confirmed Jackson's marriage using historical documents, including a signed affidavit from the last living witness to the nuptials.

'I never wanted to share my story with the public,' Jackson said in an oral history recording in 2018. 'I didn't feel that it was that important and I didn't want a bunch of gossip about it.'

James Bolin was a 93-year-old widower when Jackson's father volunteered her to stop by his house each day and assist him with chores as she headed home from school.

Bolin who was a private in the 14th Missouri Cavalry and served until the end of the war in Co. F, did not believe in accepting charity and after a lengthy period of time-asked Jackson for her hand in marriage as a way to provide for her future.

'He said that he would leave me his Union pension,' Jackson explained in an interview with Historian Hamilton C. Clark. 'It was during the depression and times were hard. He said that it might be my only way of leaving the farm.'

Jackson, who was 17 years old, married Bolin in front of a few witnesses at his Niangua, Missouri home on September 4, 1936. Bolin recorded the wedding in his personal Bible, which is now part of a rotating exhibit on Jackson that has traveled to several museum locations, including the Laura Ingalls Wilder Home and Museum in Mansfield, Missouri.

Although the two were married, Jackson explained that the nuptials were on her terms. She still wanted to live on her family farm with her immediate family and she wanted to keep her last name, sharing the information with few individuals outside of those who had served as witnesses.

'How do you explain that you have married someone with such a difference in age,' she said at the 2018 Missouri Cherry Blossom Festival. 'I had great respect for Mr. Bolin and I did not want him to be hurt by the scorn of wagging tongues.'

Jackson was wed to Bolin from 1936 until his passing on June 18, 1939. However, she never officially applied for his pension as one of her step-daughters threatened to ruin her reputation.

'All a woman had in 1939 was her reputation,' she continued in her oral history interview. 'I didn't want them all to think that I was a young woman who had married an old man to take advantage of him.'

Jackson did not share her story from 1939 until the winter of 2017. She never remarried and no children were born to the union.

'Mr. Bolin really cared for me,' she said in an interview for 'Our America Magazine'. 'He wanted me to have a future and he was so kind.'"

It's a bit sad that Jackson never applied for the pension that was the reason for the marriage in the first place, but life is complicated.

More than anything, this story is a reminder that it just wasn't that long ago that the U.S. nearly split in two over the southern states' desire to maintain the evil institution of slavery. Someone who was married to a soldier in that war was alive a month ago.

Today, we watched a violent storming of the U.S. Capitol by people carrying the Confederate flag, in a surreal throwback to the people who marched on the wrong side of history 160 years ago.