Sunday, July 1, 2018

Cape Coast

On Saturday we ventured out on the 4-hour, bumpy, stop-and-go road through villages, whose busy  markets lined the way, and past lush greenery to Cape Coast Castle, one of many slave trading castles along the Gold Coast of Ghana. We had torrential rains the whole way, then things cleared right when we arrived.

I must mention, before going on, that as we pulled out of our guest house we saw at least three children come out to the street from the little alleys with buckets and bowels of human waste from their homes on their heads. It was their job to empty the house toilet in the gutter. Geoff and I told our girls never to complain about their Saturday jobs again!

The Cape Coast castle sits on a beautiful rock outcropping. As we left the car we were accosted (I would come up with a harsher word, if I could) by vendors. Man alive, it was like a swarm of flies! We were forced to use a somewhat strong tone for them to leave us alone. I felt bad about it, but was grateful when they all finally backed off.

It was rejuvenating to be near the ocean.





I didn't really know the history of slavery from the African standpoint. I didn't know that the Muslims had been demanding regular tributes of slaves from the conquered African tribes from as early as 700ishAD. I wasn't aware that when the Dutch and Portuguese dominated trade of the Gold Coast, slavery was only a small portion of their trading, and even then slaves were traded with the Europeans for goods (like spices, silk, blankets, etc.) from the African tribal chiefs themselves. Later when more slaves were demanded from Brazil, the Caribbean and America to work the large cotton and tobacco plantations, the Europeans, then in control of the Gold Coast, were still getting them from the African tribal chiefs. Kidnapping and gatherings DID take place, but that wasn't as common as trading goods with the chiefs who were in it for their own interests as well.


The tour guide claimed that the chiefs didn't know exactly what would happen to those they sold. Maybe they were misled, but they had centuries of slavery in Africa. They knew the people never came back! The guide acknowledged that all sides and parties contributed. Some claim the Europeans just capitalized on what was already happening.


The realities of what took place at this castle were grim and disturbing. Slaves marched from their tribal villages to a certain river place where they took their last bath on African soil and were lathered with oil, to look good for a better trading price. From there they marched through forests (the distance is a 45 minutes drive) to the castle where they were bartered and traded to different companies. They were then branded with a hot iron according to which company they belonged. They spent anywhere from 3 weeks to 3 months in the castle, waiting for exportation.

While the Europeans lived above ground in spacious, light-filled and breezy dwellings, the male and female slaves were separated and sent to dungeons, located beneath ground. There were five male dungeon rooms, each the size of an average, modern master bedroom. Those five rooms held 1000 men at any given time. The ventilation and light provided were made up of a few very small window openings near the ceilings. It was dark and damp. Food scraps, human waste and vomit were never removed. They were in chains.


The women's dungeons were similar, only there was an opening half way up the wall where European men could come choose a sexual partner, no victim. When women refused, they were sent to a small, dark cell for punishment. These are those that fought the rape. When other women succumbed, and when they became pregnant, the child was removed from them at birth and the woman was sold off as planned. There were many of these mulatto children. Soon churches started schools at the various castles to educate these illegitimate children. Their fathers oversaw the education. When the children were grown, the father kept them as servants.

Some slaves revolted on occasion. When they did, they were put in a small room, maybe the size of an average bathroom, where there was no ventilation and no food given. They were left there to suffocate and starve.

When it was time to board their crowded, disease-ridden ship (and only a minor percentage survived the journey oversees), they were marched, in chains, through a tunnel and out "the door of no return".


Once they left the castle, they never came back to their homeland.

We spent some time out of this door. There was a local fisherman mending his nets, and the views of the fishing village and coast were so colorful.



These smiling pictures are mere habits of a photo being taken. The mood on the tour was somber. It was difficult to hear and see. It was maddening to see business and religion exploiting humans. Greed and pride and power were behind this evil trade. Human nature was not restrained in any way.

That is the "door of no return" in the background.


These same churches who started the schools held church in the castle. The entrance to the church was just to the side of an opening over the male dungeon. A soldier was posted above this opening to keep watch on the slaves, to make sure they weren't conjuring up evil intent. When church-goers were going in and out the slaves would yell up for help. They were ignored. The churchgoers saw the slaves as commodities in a business.



Ironically, the gift shop is in the governor's quarters and the soldier's rooms.



History then continues with the British ending the slave trade on the Gold Coast, and dominating Ghana until 1952, exporting all of their resources for their own benefit (as did all colonizers). When the Europeans finally left Africa, they drew up arbitrary lines for countries, dividing tribes and leaving them to fend for themselves. These tribes have warred for control ever since, in most places. We had long conversations about this on the drive home. It gave me loads of questions to ponder and theories to assess.

We also got to Facetime Tennie, for the first time since here, on the drive home! During a reconnecting moment we took a selfie on the bumpy road.


Also, one of the swarming vendors was a young man who forced a bracelet upon us. When we later picked it up he asked where we were from. When we said Utah, he asked, "Are you Mormon?!" A new friend.


It was a long ride home after a memorable and thought-provoking day.

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