Our spirits were already dampened on the foggy bus ride along Ghana’s coast. The air hung like gray flannel, so dense it seemed to physically press down upon us. The sun fought and failed to seep through the gray murk, and we knew our destination was not likely to perk us up. Our formerly lively group had gotten strangely quiet, all lost in our thoughts as we stared out the blotchy windows at the forlorn foliage on the side of the road.
Several years ago, I was very involved with a microfinance organization; I served on a board, did some volunteer work with them, and also took a number of trips designed to show donors what microcredit looked like in action. One summer I wanted to introduce the concept to my oldest son, so we set off for Ghana, a country where entrepreneurship and microfinance were thriving. We spent most of our time in Accra and Kumasi, meeting clients who made concrete blocks, raised chickens, opened rural schools, and processed palm oil, among other small businesses. It was a vibrant line-up of days with the ebullient and brightly dressed Ghanaian people, a week filled with color and laughter and success.
Our hosts had also arranged for some cultural sightseeing – an adventuresome hike though Kakum National Park, a few relaxed days on the beach in Elmina and, finally, a visit to Cape Coast Castle. But Cape Coast Castle was no fairy tale edifice, and our cheerful, positive trip was about to turn much bleaker than the weather.
From the late 1400s to the end of the 18th century, many similar strongholds were built on the then-named Gold Coast of Ghana to serve as forts and trading posts along merchant trade routes. Portuguese and other settlers fought for control of this coast for centuries, but over time the commodities housed and hidden in these “castles” slowly transitioned from gold, ivory, and other precious goods to human beings.
In the fortresses, thousands of male and female slaves lived in dank, dimly lit stone chambers with little ventilation, light, and space to move about or even sit or lie down. Human waste filled these dungeons, and female slaves were regularly raped by their jailors. Water was scant, and disease, perhaps mercifully, killed off many of the captives.
Cape Coast Castle and its ilk soon became the last stop for most slaves before they were shipped off to the Americas and other places. Horrible signs make clear the fate of the fortress occupants; “Female Slave Dungeon” announced the entrance to one of the cavernous vaults filled with sorrow, desolation and despair, and the “Door of No Return” on the sea-facing side of the castle was a terrible small opening where slaves exited into the boats that carried them to the cargo ships heading west across the ocean. Millions and millions of slaves from West Africa alone were shipped off from such castles along the harsh Atlantic coast.
Seeing these sights and hearing the history made the gloom of the day seem trifling in comparison. Just as I would experience at Auschwitz years later, I felt bludgeoned into silence; there were no words or cogent thoughts as I tried, and failed, to properly process the horror.
Coming out of the castle and onto its ramparts and courtyard, we gulped in the thick air and tried to cleanse ourselves of the revulsion and shame we felt as human beings.
There, we saw life going on as fishermen cleaned their nets and unloaded their catch from a day at work. The colored sails and hulls could not completely pierce the mist, and their muted, blurry hues had a confused, melancholy air that matched our moods.
Like the tangled nets and tattered flags, my thoughts were a jumble, and to this day, the boat scene feels as grim to me as the castle. I wanted and needed those boats to snap me out of my heartache, and they didn’t. At least their owners are free.
estelea said:
What a post! Thanks for sharing it, I remember experiencing the same feeling when I visited a similar place in Tanzania. So overwhelming, I could feel the breathing of all those people sent away from their home to be at the mercy of another slave owner. It seems totally unbelievable nowadays, yet it was normality back then. Imagine the story of those people, all what they have been through to finally get their rights respected. And still, it is far from being perfect ..
Your post is so respectful, so powerful. Cheers to a society that finally understands the concepts of equality and respect !
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lexklein said:
Thanks for your nice comments! Yes, overwhelming is a good word to describe one’s feelings at these sites of man’s inhumanity to man. There are so many good places and people on this earth, so it is always a bad day when we come face to face with something way less than good.
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estelea said:
At least it shows how far we have traveled, that finally our times are far from being the worse.. Even if there is always room for improvement
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Alison and Don said:
Phew. That must have been hard. So much sorrow. Honestly I don’t think things have improved – it’s just in different places, and perhaps in some cases more hidden. There but for the grace of God . . . . . . . .
How did we get so lucky?
Alison
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lexklein said:
I agree, unfortunately. And we ARE so lucky to have been born in countries (or at least circumstances within those countries) that have made our lives so much easier.
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DebraB said:
Really enjoyed your post. It brought back memories of my trip to Ghana, especially to the slave castles–very sobering.
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lexklein said:
Thanks! I think I remember your mentioning Ghana in the past … but I can’t place in what context! I’ll have to go back and look!
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Shelley @Travel-Stained said:
Amazing post! I visited a similar place in StoneTown, Zanzibar, and it was also an extremely difficult and confronting experience. I have yet to visit Auschwich or anything similar (skipped the Killing Fields in Cambodia) because I’m not sure I’m ready to feel all the pain and sorrow trapped in those places. Do you think it’s necessary to visit those places to feel them, or do you think an awareness of the historical events surrounding them is enough?
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lexklein said:
I’m sitting here pondering your question! For thinking, feeling people, I think an awareness is enough. I sure hope it is because most of the world can’t go see these things for themselves, and we want them to fully believe what happened without seeing it for themselves. For doubters of any kind, I think a visit would certainly dispel any illusions. I resist these terrible places myself, but I always end up going, and I always end up feeling them much more deeply than I could have otherwise. Still, they are so difficult, and I think many people just can’t take it, and that’s OK.
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awtytravels said:
I haven’t been in one of those castles, but I did have been in jails, lagers and other places where atrocities were made and it always struck me how ‘ordinary’ they were. Every time I visited one such place I couldn’t stop thinking that, at the end of the day, those living there and inflicting such pain on fellow humans didn’t all have the excuse of being psychopaths but were, in facts, perfectly normal. These sort of places make me feel really depressed about us as a species, you know.
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lexklein said:
Sad to say, but I might agree that many perpetrators of atrocities are somewhat normal, or at least typical of many of their peers at any given time in history. What we gain by seeing places like this is how, at the very least, our thinking has changed about a very specific idea. And I say very specific because perhaps we can’t imagine exterminating all the members of a given religion nowadays, but there are places where other forms of genocide are occurring now. We can’t tolerate the idea of a worldwide slave trade, but slavery still exists in smaller pockets and different forms in many places. So yeah, these sorts of places and the ideas they engender are pretty damn depressing!
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gallivance.net said:
Very moving and beautifully written Lexie. When traveling, it’s always a tough decision as to visiting or not visiting these horrific places. Unfortunately, sights that show man’s inhumanity to man are scattered all over the globe. We lived in Berlin for three months as well as traveled in Poland, and I got more than enough of the Nazi story. Honestly, when I read about places like Ghana, I’m ambivalent. I want to visit, but I don’t want to visit. There really aren’t words to describe how appalling human history is sometimes, and it’s impossible to un-see these sights. Kudos for publishing this poignant post. ~James
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lexklein said:
Thanks, James. I totally relate to two things you said: that you want to visit, but you don’t want to visit, and that’s it’s impossible to un-see these things. I guess I ultimately end up going because I can take what I learn there back to my circle of friends and acquaintances and in some tiny way hope that relaying what I’ve seen might cause someone to think differently about something in the future as a result of that … ? … Naive? Probably. But I guess it cements what I feel even if it doesn’t change anything! Thanks for taking the time to read and comment on a gloomy post!
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Darcy Alexander Shillingford said:
This is beautifully written, and heart-wrenching. I’ve heard of these castles but have not been to Africa yet…still, the feeling of shame you described seeped into me as I was reading your piece. The only analogous sentiment I can recall is when I visited the killing fields of Choeng Ek on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, Cambodia. It’s difficult to fathom how members of our species are capable of such atrocities. I think at some point in life, everyone should experience what you have Ghana in order to obtain some understanding of the horrible capabilities of some humans, and the prevailing strength of the ones who have been forced to suffer beneath them.
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lexklein said:
I’ve heard how terrible it is to visit the killing fields in Cambodia. Having been to a few places where the worst moments of mankind have been exhibited, I wonder (like you) how people can fall to these levels. And yet they have, and even worse, they still do. I like your last thought – that maybe we can gain some ongoing understanding and appreciation for those who have suffered so at the hands of others.
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lisadorenfest said:
It is so spot on that you compare your experience of this horrific episode in our world’s history to that which you felt at Auschwitz a year later. That is exactly what I thought when reading this. Humans are such idiots sometimes. I feel a bit shallow closing with this, but I have to say that I thought you did a great job with the images in the post.
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lexklein said:
Thanks … I was never happy with my photos from that day until I realized they perfectly captured the gloom I felt inside, too.
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lisadorenfest said:
Exactly!
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badfish said:
No wonder! I just discovered that in my Reader, you were turned off…how, why…I don’t know! I have some kind of innate fear of Africa. I wonder if I was a slave in a past life? I have a lock, for wrists, very old. It almost feels alive when I touch it. Spooky.
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lexklein said:
First, that wrist lock sounds positively freaky; where on earth did you get it? Second, I’m glad you have discovered that I was turned off in the Reader … another reason to hate it!
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badfish said:
I know…how do things like that happen? You are not the first to get turned off. And now all kinds of weird things are changing. Some I like, others, no. And yeah, the wrist lock…jeesh, freaky…you can just imagine a slave wearing it. Makes you hurt. It’s not a possession I’m proud of, but I’m attached to it for some reason.
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darwinontherocks said:
It looks like an overwhelming place, full of history and pain. It’s a difficult decision … visit or not visit. Is it morbid curiosity ? I’ve heard some people said that but I don’t see it that way. It’s part of history, it’s important to know about it to avoid making the same mistakes, to educate ourselves, to open our eyes.
Thanks for sharing
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lexklein said:
I guess even if it’s morbid curiosity that draws someone in, they cannot help but get a dose of history and some education by the end! I like the way you summed it up: that in these atrocious places, we can open our eyes, educate ourselves, and ideally learn to avoid the same mistakes. It’s that last part that seems so hard to accomplish!
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Pingback: Guest Post from Ghana | One Foot Out the Door
JR said:
Wow, this is truly amazing.
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lexklein said:
Thank you. It was such a sad visit and day, but it was something I’m still glad I saw.
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The Snow Melts Somewhere said:
Thanks for sharing this story of such a sobering experience! “…as I tried, and failed, to properly process the horror” → I think this is the thing for most of us, well at least for me: try as hard as we can, we can’t really, truly process the horror. You read about slavery in history books or see it in films, but it’s just so unbelievable that it was such a normal thing for so long. Humans are cruel and greedy, some always thinking they are above others and exerting power over others. What a way to end your trip! I hope you still have pleasant memories come to mind first when you think of Ghana, and not this! 🙂
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lexklein said:
It was a sad ending but, believe me, my overwhelming memory of Ghana was of the happy people and bustling economy. Years later, our daughter ended up living there for a short time as part of her public health work, and she felt the very positive vibe there also (in spite of visiting Cape Coast castle, too).
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Dippy Dotty Girl said:
I arrived at your post via https://thesnowmeltssomewhere.wordpress.com. I am glad I did. The Auschwitz metaphor clinched it for me with the words, ‘bludgeoned into silence’. You write so evocatively. Cheers.
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lexklein said:
The emotions I felt that day were just so raw; it actually made the post easier than usual to write from a vocabulary-only perspective. Reliving the sickening feelings was not fun, but I’m still glad I got my thoughts down about that tough day. Thanks for visiting my blog from that site!
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Dippy Dotty Girl said:
I hear you.
Ah, but it was a pleasure to read your style of writing.
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lexklein said:
Thank you!
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