First we went to Cape Coast Castle. As we walked in there was a coat of arms that said “Freedom and Justice.” This is Ghana’s motto, and it seemed so ironic that it would be on a place that kept people from both. We walked in and the court yard was beautiful: white stone leading up to amazing views of the crashing waves with local fishermen and boys working the surf with their nets. Then, then I saw the cannons. All lined up and pointing out into the beauty. They were black and unforgiving. Piles of cannon balls were all around us. This is when I began to picture the terror that had happened on these white stones. Less than 200 years ago they were not white, but stained with blood and sweat and hate.
After a few minutes of looking around our guide began his tour. First he took us to the male dungeon, which was made for 1,000 slaves but held up to 1,500. We walked down a dark, narrow tunnel into a room that had one small window, maybe 1’x6’’, about 12 feet up the wall. There were 4 rooms, each about the size of half of a volleyball court, that were connected by large arch ways. In one room those who were rumored of planning a revolt or escape were chained to the wall. This is the total space for 1,500 bodies, 1,500 men who had almost no ventilation and had to fight each other for the food that was thrown down on to them by the guards. The ground was cement but there was still a thick layer of a hard, dark substance that our guide told us was a mixture of feces, urine, blood, and sweat. The smell was over powering, even after 175 years. The air was heavy and I felt as if we were in a dark, deep, damp pit of death. We walked to the 4th room where there was a shrine to those whom had died there in the dungeons, on the sea, and in the Americas.
After this we walked back out of the dungeon and talked about the Europeans. Where did they have their church? Above the dungeon. In the same building there was death, guns, and God. The Dutch and the British held this castle at different times, but the only thing that changed was the name of the castle, not the treatment of the people there or how things were conducted. They traded people as they traded gun powder.
We walked over to the women’s dungeon, which was meant to hold 500 but held up to 800 at times. It was about the size of two of our living rooms at home. There were a couple of small windows, so at least they had a bit more ventilation. There was also a door, known as the Gentlemen’s Door, at one end. This was a tunnel which the governor, merchants, traders, and other Europeans could go through, pick a woman for the night, and take her back to his room. This was actually seen as better than the conditions in the dungeon because the victim was given a bath before she was raped. Imagine, feeling a little lucky to be chosen by a disgusting man. If the women became pregnant in the dungeons, they were taken to other quarters until they gave birth and then it was back to the cell with them. These children stayed at the castle and went to school there. Prisoners were usually held for about 3 months, so if a woman was raped early on she would show before she got on the boat to cross the Atlantic. If a woman was found to be pregnant while at sea, she was thrown overboard to the sharks that followed the slave boats. Imagine this:
You and your wife are stolen one night from your village, walk several days, all the time chained and without food and water, to a dungeon where you are separated. 3 months pass and then the ships come and you see each other for the first time. 2 weeks into the voyage your wife shows that she is pregnant, and she is thrown overboard, alive, along with the food scraps. She was first taken by a man and now by a shark. Days later food is running low so sharks are caught to feed those of you who are still alive in the bottom of the boat. You eat the shark that ate your wife.
This is the story our guide told us. He reminded us that there has been slavery in every society for all of history, but never before was it this inhumane. Outside of the women’s dungeon was the Door of No Return, which led to the sea where small boats would take prisoners, who were lashed together with ropes and chains, and row them out to the waiting ships. Some prisoners would rather die than leave Africa, so they jump, taking their companions with them. Today those waters are full of men and boys fishing and swimming where their ancestors drowned to forgo a worst death at sea or in the Americas.
President Obama and his family visited Ghana last year and walked through that door. Our guide happily reminded us that they did come back, but what if they had been born 200 years before? The man who guided us around all day was a tall, strong, handsome man. How did he walk though this place of Hell and not feel that it was all built to keep him in? On one of the walls by the men’s dungeon is a plaque that reads:
“IN EVERYLASTING MEMORY of the anguish of our ancestors. May those who died rest in peace. May those who return find their roots. May humanity never again perpetrate such injustice against humanity. We, the living, vow to uphold this.”
Did we? The Holocaust happened, the Rwandan, Cambodian, Darfur, and so many more genocides happened and are still happening. We the living need to realize that we live in a time of opportunity and ability and we cannot forget what our ancestors did, no matter if it was good or bad.
The next Castle we went to was about a 5 minute drive down the road. It had two moats around it and it was a woman’s dungeon. Again, the church was above the prisoners and also another in the middle of the court yard. When we walked in, we passed a cell with a skull and cross bones above the door. This was where those who had attempted escape or the so called “Freedom Fighters” were put in here and the door shut. They were left in there as long as it took for them to die of suffocation, starvation, or despair. We walked to the dungeons and as soon as we walked in we were hit with the smell of thousands of women’s lost lives, their lost blood, their lost hearts. There was one window for ventilation. Whenever the governor was feeling frisky he would have the guards let the women out into the court yard for the day. He would stand up on the roof and pick his prey for the night. If she refused, she was chained to a cannon ball and made to stand in the court yard, meant to break her spirit and to act as a deterrent for others who were thinking of protecting themselves. We walked up onto the roof and below were local children playing soccer, on the very ground their countrymen and women were killed.
All during the slave times in West Africa, do you know what the region was known as? The White Man’s Grave. So many Europeans died within weeks of arriving on the coast because of tropical diseases and the heat. When someone thought they had malaria, they drank alcohol because that was their medicine. Three bottles later they were dead. So many people died, on both sides of the battle. Where would our world be right now if Europeans had stayed home? I cannot pretend that I understand what happened there and the repercussions that resulted. All I can do is learn what happened and go from there. If we don’t know the past we’ll never be able to gain the future or appreciate the present.
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