Slave Castles in Ghana

Feb 6. 

NOTE:  The following is a little more reflective then descriptive, because I had to write about my experiences for a class, and figured I would just post my response here:




“ In everlasting 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.”

        This was the message on the plaque at both of the slave castles and dungeons we visited today.  It was presented several years ago by the different tribal leaders of Western Africa, when the decision was made that the slave castles should stay open instead of being torn down, to serve as a reminder of the evil that occurred there.

        Today wasn’t fun.  It wasn’t enjoyable and it definitely isn’t something that I would want to do again.  The locations we visited were evil, horrific, dark and completely unforgettable.  It didn’t feel right, being there today, snapping pictures and reading the plaques.  Hundreds of thousands; maybe even millions of Africans died in the very dungeons I stood in today.  It was hot, muggy and pitch black, minus a tiny window, and the 20 or so people in my group were only in the small dungeon for maybe 15 minutes at a time.  A few hundred years ago, 1,000 west African men and women would be crammed into the same spaces we occupied today, held anywhere from two weeks to three months.  They were chained together, but it didn’t really matter, there was hardly any room to move.  When the castles were restored, over two feet of human excrement had to be removed from the floor.  They were not allowed to bathe, there were no bathroom facilities, and food and water came in minimal proportions.  Slaves would die by the dozens every day, only to be plucked out and thrown into mass graves.  Of course, this was after the slaves were chained together and forced to march to the coast of Ghana for hundreds of miles, a trip that over half didn’t survive.  If a slave lived through the march and imprisonment, and was deemed fit by a European trader, they would be marched through the Gate of No Return, rowed to waiting ships and literally stacked on top of one another on their trip east, only to arrive and suffer the oppression of being enslaved.  Those who died along the way would be tossed into the ocean.  It is tough to know how many slaves actually were taken from Africa, but estimates range in the 12 millions.  More shocking however are the estimated 60 million individuals who were captured to be slaves and never actually made it to the Americas.   
        Our tour guides at both the Cape Coast Castle and the Elmina castle were absolutely fantastic, and instilled a realistic sense of what occurred centuries ago. We were told that no matter what hardships we faced in our lives, nothing would ever compare to what occurred in these castles centuries ago.  And I believe it.  This experience is one that provides a framework about the blessings I have and how incredibly fortunate I am to be living the life I have.  I know these memories will stick with me forever, and feel incapable of adequately describing the profoundness of the day.  I would imagine visiting sites like Auschwitz or the killing fields in Cambodia would provide a similar experience, but as an American, one with African American friends, and one who lives in an area that was once populated by the very slaves that traveled through these places, the experience was strangely personal.  Not to say that I felt any bit of guilt for being white, but for one of the few times in my life history felt real.  I don’t think I would ever want to go back to these places again, but feel it is almost a necessity to understanding history and the world for individuals to visit them.

In humility,

-Ben