Table of contents
Table of contents
Essay / Field Notes

With the Fall of a Tree, Archaeology Returns to Liberia

Following a devastating Civil War, archaeologists are helping Liberia rewrite a more inclusive history and forge a more diverse future.
A team of archaeologists works near a large, uprooted tree in Liberia. Some people pour dirt onto a sifter while others dig in the tree-root pit.

Members of the Back-to-Africa Heritage and Archaeology project, Tabitha Roberts, Samuel McIntosh, Stephen Foday, and Caree Banton (left to right), excavate beneath a fallen cotton tree.

Matthew C. Reilly/BAHA Research Project

In 2019, in the aftermath of a particularly severe storm, a massive cotton tree came tumbling down on Providence Island, Liberia’s premier heritage site. The nation mourned its loss.

Among many African-descended peoples, cotton trees (Ceiba pentandra) are considered the abode of good and evil spirits. But even aside from spiritualism, this fallen tree held a special place in Liberian hearts.

It was said to be the site of the original meeting between Indigenous Liberians and the Black Americans who arrived on this shore in search of freedom in 1822, nearly 200 years before the tree fell. The tree, therefore, is a symbol of Liberian history. It represents the unity and conflict that has underscored the relationship between Indigenous peoples and Black American settlers, or Americo-Liberians.

While many lamented the tree’s fall on a symbolic level, its literal collapse unearthed a treasure trove of archaeological heritage. The root matting below revealed thousands of objects dating to the periods before, during, and after the momentous 1822 arrival of Black American settlers.

The Back-to-Africa Heritage and Archaeology (BAHA) project—founded by Caree Banton, Matthew C. Reilly, and Craig Stevens in 2018—conducted salvage excavations after the cotton tree came crashing down. [1] Funding for the BAHA research featured in this story was provided by the National Geographic Society. This marked the return of archaeology to Liberia after a roughly 50-year hiatus largely caused by a devastating Civil War.

A team of people wear gloves and work around a large square hole in the dirt. Some dig, one takes notes, and two hold up a wooden frame in the background.

BAHA team members Abraham Fokoe, Craig Stevens, Oliver Sackey (front, left to right), Gayflor Wesley (back left), and Chrislyn Laurore (back right) excavate a site on Providence Island.

Matthew C. Reilly/BAHA Research Project

A close-up photograph features a hand holding a gray ceramic sherd thinly veiled with dirt.

The BAHA team unearthed a ceramic sherd made by Indigenous people in what is today Liberia.

Craig Stevens/BAHA Research Project

The objects found beneath the tree, along with others recently uncovered across the landscape, speak to the global reach of Liberian trade in the years immediately following the 1822 settlement. But this is only part of a much deeper and more complex story that’s coming to light with the BAHA team’s exciting finds.

Now the question remains: How will this new chapter in Liberian archaeology inform the complex historical divide between settlers and Indigenous peoples?


By all accounts, the first archaeological excavation in Liberia occurred on January 1, 1961. That New Year’s Day, Liberia’s community development adviser, Kenneth Orr, who arrived in the country the previous year, veered from his official duty and collected potsherds from an abandoned town near Gbarnga, presently the provincial capital of Bong County. Other professionals, mostly from the U.S., conducted excavations throughout the 1960s and into the ’70s.

Then, a bloody coup in 1980 ended 133 years of Americo-Liberian hegemony over the majority Indigenous population. This was followed by a horrific 14-year Civil War.

Today, as Liberia continues to rebuild, the return of archaeology takes place at a crucial moment. In 2021, the Liberian government announced the 2022 celebration of the 200th anniversary of the arrival of free Black Americans who later founded Liberia in 1847. Many people were understandably caught off guard by the celebratory announcement. In the minds of Liberians, the coup and Civil War are dark memories that cast long shadows.

Still, the bicentennial marked a critical time for Liberians to reflect on their identity and their historic and contemporary relationship with the United States. That much was made clear when bicentennial festivities on Providence Island featured a large wooden replica of the Mayflower, juxtaposing the island with Plymouth Rock in the U.S.

A small, yellow wooden boat with the word “Mayflower” painted on its side sits on a platform painted with red, white, and navy stripes.

A replica of the Mayflower was decorated for Liberia’s bicentennial in 2022.

Matthew C. Reilly/BAHA Research Project

During this time of reflection, archaeology is offering a way to rethink one-sided perspectives on Liberia’s past. The new finds are also partly filling gaps in the country’s story and challenging some hard-to-shake misconceptions.

According to the commonly accepted narrative of Liberia’s founding, in 1821, White American colonization agent and Navy Lt. Robert Stockton held a gun to the head of Indigenous leader King Peter. This threat forced a land treaty reminiscent of the establishment of U.S. territories centuries earlier.

But a recent archival discovery by Liberian scholar C. Patrick Burrowes might present a different narrative. The recovered document, as interpreted by Burrowes, revises earlier ideas about Stockton’s gunplay and White colonial intimidation. Instead, it suggests consenting African leaders in the area signed a fair agreement.

Yet Burrowes cautions that by relying on written records, one risks telling a one-sided story from the point of view of the U.S. government and the American Colonization Society, an organization founded in 1816 by leading Americans with the intent of relocating African Americans to Africa. And in any case, the land agreement was signed by a Navy officer (Stockton) while an armed U.S. vessel hovered nearby.

In 1820, the first West African–bound freed Black emigrants sailed from the U.S. on Liberia’s version of the Mayflower, the Elizabeth. The emigrants endured a lengthy limbo in Sierra Leone, where many died and others struggled with disease. In 1822, emigrants from the U.S. established themselves in what became Liberia.

An aerial photograph features a grassy green island with trees and a few white buildings on it. Connected to the island by a long bridge, a shore full of buildings spans the background.

Black Americans first arrived on Providence Island in 1822 to settle what would become the Republic of Liberia in 1847.

Matthew C. Reilly/BAHA Research Project

The majority of 19th-century migrants to Liberia came from the mid-Atlantic states and the Deep South. Virginia led all states, with at least 3,741 emigrants, and Georgia was second, with at least 2,164. Place names across Liberia reflect this history, with townships and counties such as Louisiana, Virginia, White Plains, New Georgia, Maryland, and Greenville dotting the coastal region. State-by-state divisions also surfaced in disputes among migrants.

As an American colony resulting from efforts to expel Black Americans, Liberia signaled the limits of freedom for African Americans and the possibilities of a multiracial democracy in the U.S. Many migrants from the South were born free, but about one-third were emancipated on the condition that they go to Liberia. Some states even passed laws stating that freed African Americans would have to leave the state within six months. This prompted many people to journey to Liberia to preserve their freedom—sometimes against their will.

While some were excited by the potential opportunities afforded by emigration to an African homeland, others expressed anguish over leaving behind family, friends, and the lives they had built under circumstances of racial violence.


Deeper research into Liberia’s past has been hindered by the fact that, until recently, few archaeological projects had been conducted in the country. The research that did take place prioritized ancient history, including developing chronologies of the region’s first inhabitants, tracking stone technologies, and documenting trade. Liberian ancient history was mainly studied by foreign (White) experts who followed a colonial model of archaeology.

As a result, objects largely ended up in museums and universities in the U.S. In addition, archaeological studies rarely investigated the critical Atlantic era of Liberia’s past, including the controversial years surrounding the 1822 settlement.

A black-and-white archival photograph features several people in suits, many holding canes and sitting in chairs in front of a pillared building.

The Liberian Senate in 1893 was mostly comprised of Black Americans who had formerly been enslaved in the U.S.

Library of Congress/Corbis/VCG/
Getty Images

Scholars of Liberian colonization often explored experiences of various groups from different U.S. states and the Caribbean. Other researchers have examined the ways questions of representation, governance, and citizenship affected colonies of empires. This settler-centric perspective sustains the idea that African and other Indigenous histories only become visible with European colonial encounters.

In historical writings about Liberia, there is a conspicuous Indigenous presence but no real sustained and substantive accounts. In this literature, Indigenous peoples form an afterthought and often a footnote, occupying a peripheral space within the essays rather than their core.

This bias is all the more surprising when considering that Liberia’s Indigenous peoples have always constituted the overwhelming majority of the nation’s population, now more than 5 million people. With the arrival of 19th-century settlers, Liberia became home to 17 ethnolinguistic groups, belonging to three subgroups of the larger Niger-Congo language family of Africa.

Thankfully, today archaeology in Liberia is more diverse, both in terms of the researchers and the scope of their investigations. And the evidence they are unearthing is creating more inclusive narratives about Liberia’s past.


BAHA represents a collaboration between foreign, largely African-descendant scholars; Liberian institutions and professionals; and Liberian students. Their work on Providence Island foregrounds the intersection of Liberia’s deeper past with more recent centuries of colonial contact and settlement, right up to the post-conflict present.

Since 2019, most of the thousands of objects the group recovered from Providence Island—including those under the cotton tree—were not made in Liberia. In fact, much of the material culture reflects broader trading patterns across the Atlantic world. For instance, large quantities of German-made stoneware jugs testify to the young nation’s early and extensive economic relationship with Germany. (This connection ruptured in 1917 when Liberia joined the U.S. and other Allied forces during World War I.)

Other materials might indicate extensive trade among Indigenous groups—both between Indigenous groups like the Vai and with passing European traders—prior to Americo-Liberian settlement. For example, researchers found English-made creamware vessels that were produced in the latter decades of the 1700s. These finds suggest that either Providence Island had long functioned as a trading hub during the Atlantic era prior to 1822, or arriving settlers brought older, less expensive wares with them on their transatlantic journeys.

Finding such archaeological objects was not necessarily a surprise given what is known about the years of settlement. But the cotton tree had more stories to tell.

Intermixed with everyday items made in far-off places such as Europe and the U.S. were unmistakable signs of Liberian innovation and cultural resiliency. Liberian team members recently trained in archaeological methods unearthed ceramics made by Indigenous peoples long before the arrival of European traders and Black American settlers.

Currently, only rudimentary ceramic “typologies”—categories for types of ceramics that indicate their period and place of origin—exist for Liberia. This means we cannot yet conclusively say who produced, used, or discarded these vessels. But preliminary analysis has revealed a diversity of clay sources, vessel shape, and decoration. This indicates ceramic vessels were likely being traded across what would become Liberia.

Excavated materials are now safely in the care of the National Museum of Liberia, where staff members partnering with BAHA are eager to design exhibitions for some of the first provenanced archaeological collections they’ve held since the institution was looted during the Civil War. These items are helping to write new, deeper chapters in the history of Providence Island.

These chapters are in need of careful editing and revision. But they have the potential to highlight how Indigenous Liberians used the island in the centuries prior to 1822 and the complex relationships that emerged as the nation of Liberia took shape.


On January 7, 2022, 200 years after the arrival of the first settlers, the Liberian government and Indigenous elders reportedly planted two baby cotton trees on Providence Island as part of the bicentennial commemoration. Both seedlings, in the recollection of the Indigenous elders, represented the male and female trees that towered over Providence Island for about two centuries.

Soils on Providence Island now have an important role to play in the growth of the new trees. Similarly, the material heritage found within these soils can play a role in creating more inclusive narratives of the Liberian past as Liberians at home and abroad optimistically look to a brighter future.

A group of smiling people pose on a cement staircase in front of a stone building covered with moss.

The BAHA team gathers in Crozierville at the former home of Albert Porte, a journalist whose activism led to the creation of Liberia’s first civil society organization.

Craig Stevens/BAHA Research Project

The first generation of Liberian archaeologists and heritage professionals will decide how to help build a sustainable material heritage industry in Liberia. And that future, too, looks bright.

In the summer of 2022, recent graduates of the University of Liberia, with the BAHA team, unearthed locally made ceramic sherds at the base of the cotton tree. As they excavated the objects, they weren’t thinking about the mythical founding stories of Liberia. Instead, they expressed excitement that Providence Island, which remains a venerated space of diaspora and nationalist heritage, had a tangible material past they could call their own.

William Ezra Allen is a Liberian and a historian whose publications focus on 19th-century Liberian society. His master’s is from Indiana University, and he earned his Ph.D. in history from Florida International University, with the aid of a Rockefeller Foundation African Dissertation Internship Award. Months after he joined the University of Liberia’s history department, a Civil War erupted in the country, shattering lives and displacing over 1 million during 14 years of bloody, sporadic warfare. His publications include Historical Methodology and Writing the Liberian Past: The Case of Agriculture in the 19th Century and Liberia and the Atlantic World in the Nineteenth CenturyConvergence and Effects.

Caree Banton is an associate professor of African diaspora history and the director of African and African American studies at the University of Arkansas. She completed her Ph.D. at Vanderbilt University in 2013. Her research has been supported by grants such as a Lapidus Center Fellowship at the Schomburg Center and a Nancy Weiss Malkiel Scholars Award, and funded by organizations such as Rotary International, the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, the American Association of University Women, and the National Endowment for the Humanities. Her book, More Auspicious Shores: Barbadian Migration to Liberia, Blackness, and the Making of the African Republic explores experiences of freedom, citizenship, nationhood, race, and belonging across the Atlantic world.

Matthew C. Reilly is an anthropological archaeologist and a faculty member in anthropology at the City College of New York. He has co-directed the Back-to-Africa Heritage and Archaeology project in Liberia since 2018. He is the author of Archaeology Below the Cliff: Race, Class, and Redlegs in Barbadian Sugar Society.


You may republish this article, either online and/or in print, under the Creative Commons CC BY-ND 4.0 license. We ask that you follow these simple guidelines to comply with the requirements of the license.

In short, you may not make edits beyond minor stylistic changes, and you must credit the author and note that the article was originally published on SAPIENS.

Accompanying photos are not included in any republishing agreement; requests to republish photos must be made directly to the copyright holder.


We’re glad you enjoyed the article! Want to republish it?

This article is currently copyrighted to SAPIENS and the author. But, we love to spread anthropology around the internet and beyond. Please send your republication request via email to editor•

Accompanying photos are not included in any republishing agreement; requests to republish photos must be made directly to the copyright holder.