If you watched our video on Instagram Page you know that at Karpfenteich, a pond in the Alt-Treptow region. It's located just behind the largest Soviet memorial in Berlin.
Around this pond are signs forbidding fishing and bathing. But what's missing is a placard highlighting what happened here in the summer of 1896. Few people are aware of the disturbing history of this place, and even fewer acknowledge the suffering endured by those who were once displayed here like exhibits in a museum.
One section of the First German Colonial Exhibition was held on a patch of land around this lake from May 1 to October 15, 1896. This was not an ordinary exhibition showcasing art, culture, or technological advancements. Instead, 106 Black women, children, and men from Germany's then-African colonies were put on display to a German audience, used as tools to build more support for the German Empire's colonial expansion.
These individuals were housed in makeshift villages, ranging from straw-topped mud huts in a so-called "Togo Village" to skull-adorned houses on stilts. This so-called exhibition was, in absolutely crude terms, nothing but a 'human zoo'.
For 50 Pfenning, German families and school groups were allowed to walk through and gape at Black children, women, and men, who were expected to put up a show, pose for photos, and not even allowed to have their meals in peace. Native craftspeople were even expected to perform work such as making pottery or weaving rugs in these makeshift villages. To further the spectacle, there were even 'war games' staged between Swahili and Masai people.
The exhibition saw over 2 million visitors during its run, cementing its place as one of the largest and most attended spectacles in Germany at the time. But at what cost?
Despite being forced into this humiliating display, the 'participants' were given meager wages-no more than 20 Deutsche Marks per month. In comparison, exhibition guides earned 10 Deutsche Marks per day. The power imbalance was staggering, and the injustice was clear.
Many of the individuals brought from Africa had no knowledge of what awaited them in Berlin. Most had been led to believe they would be part of a cultural exchange or were recruited under false pretenses. Some even paid their own way to Berlin, unaware that they would be put on display as part of this degrading colonial spectacle.
As if the public humiliation was not enough, the exhibition also became an avenue for racial pseudoscience. During the event, Dr. Felix von Luschan, a renowned doctor and ethnographer at the time, conducted invasive medical studies on the exhibition participants. Under the guise of photography, von Luschan took facial measurements in an attempt to 'scientifically' classify race. Many of the participants resisted, knowing that this was not mere documentation but something far more sinister.
Dr. von Luschan would later become infamous for developing a skin color chart, a racist tool that would eventually be used in racial studies conducted in Nazi Germany.
After the exhibition ended, three participants died. Most of the others returned to the German colonies, their lives forever changed by this dehumanizing experience. However, the practice of 'human zoos' continued in Germany and other European countries for years to come.
One of the key figures in perpetuating these so-called 'exhibitions' was Carl Hagenbeck, a businessman who turned 'human zoos' into a commercial enterprise. To this day, his name adorns the zoo in Hamburg, an unsettling reminder of Germany's colonial past.
Of the 106 Africans displayed in the 1896 exhibition, around 20 decided to stay in Germany. One of them was Quane Martin Dibobe from Cameroon. Despite the degrading circumstances he faced, Dibobe managed to carve out a life for himself in Germany. He successfully completed an apprenticeship as a locksmith and eventually became Berlin's first Black train conductor for BVG, the city's public transport company. His story stands as a testament to resilience in the face of racism and exploitation.
Berlin often prides itself on its culture of remembrance, but this dark chapter of its history remained largely hidden until the 2020s. And even then, it was not through institutional acknowledgment but due to the relentless efforts of Black activists and organizations that this history finally came to light.
A key initiative in uncovering this history was the exhibition Looked back at the Treptow Museum. The exhibition features an entire room dedicated to the biographical information of most of the participants of the 1896 human zoo. Their stories, their struggles, and their resilience are laid bare, offering a glimpse into the deep wounds inflicted by Germany's colonial past.
As we stand in places like Karpfenteich, where history was made and forgotten, we must ask ourselves: how can we ensure that these stories are not erased? How do we make sure that the individuals who suffered here are remembered not just as part of a tragic past but as people whose experiences still shape conversations about race, colonialism, and remembrance today?
To learn more about Germany's colonial history, consider joining a walking tour in the African Quarter, held every weekend. Understanding this past is not just an exercise in history-it is a crucial step toward acknowledging and addressing the lasting impacts of colonialism and racism.
History is not just about the past; it shapes our present and future. Let's make sure we remember it the right way.