The spirit of Martin Luther King was overwhelmingly present. His daughter, Bernice King, addressed the crowds, calling on them to renounce violence; to chant or even sing hymns. Protesters marched along the same roads King and his comrades had once walked. I spoke to an old protester, who had participated in the 1960s marches, who told me: “I feel as if we are 40 years back in time.” From Atlanta, our team moved on to Houston, Texas, Floyd’s hometown where his funeral would take place.
The media coverage of the funeral – by both local and international news outlets – was massive. Our crew was stationed along with hundreds of others outside the church in the searing heat. But any exhaustion we felt was washed away by the scene of thousands of people coming to pay tribute and bid their final farewells to Floyd; people from all walks of life - Black and white, men and women, young and old. After the funeral, we went to visit the memorial built to honour Floyd’s memory in his hometown. Memorials to Floyd had appeared all over the US, including in Minneapolis, the city where he was killed. When we visited that one, an old man who stood quietly observing, told us: “I remember George
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