Recap of the Castles and Slave Dungeons Trip

What I wrote Thursday morning but the internet wouldn't let me post:
My alrm went off at 6:40 am and I woke up immediately. All cleaned up, dressed and packed my little bookbag...this time I'm bringing a little notebook so I can journal during the experience. I'm also wearing a long sleeved black shirt... and sweats. I know it's blazing hot outside but I just didn't think showing any skin would be right. I don't know... just considering the occasion, just thought it would be a little more respectful on my part. I can always roll up my sleeves worst case scenario. My stomach is doing weird things. I don't know if it's because it's the morning and breakfast would be nice...or if it's in anticipation of what is to come. Bet it's a combination. I really don't know what to expect from this Castles and Slave Dungeons trip. Actually, my hands are shaking as I type this so I guess that's a significant indication of things. Think I'll give Anna and Obai a wake up call. We had a long day yesterday (or at least Anna and I) so wanna make sure they get up with enough time to shower, get dressed, grab breakfast if they can, and meet at the pier by 8 am. We won't be back until 1800. That's one aspect I was paranoid about last night. I kept checking my ticket to make sure it was tomorrow’s trip and wondering what I would do if I overslept and missed it. But enough about that. It's a somber kind of morning. I'm somewhat tired (still). Gotta update you guys on the African drumming & dancing on Sunday, my birthday on Tuesday (which was amazing by the way) and of this experience when I get back. But ok, I am going to head out now. Have an amazing day folks!


How thurs went:
Walked out and it was muggy as usual. But it had rained a bit so there was a dampness in the air... and not to mention the ground was wet. Folks said that it was lightening and thunder...I sleep so well on the ship...I never quite know what's happening in the middle of the night. Speaking of thunder and lightening though...you've never seen it until you've seen it on the Atlantic! I tell you, it's the weirdest but coolest experience you will encounter in your life. The sky and ocean is virtually infinite, so watching the lightening strikes  is almost like a 3 dimensional or 360 view. That also makes it more dangerous I suppose. But it is an incredible experience. Sometimes it was only lightening, the clouds would get bigger and it would get really low...it almost looked like they would touch the ocean...and with all this incredibleness happening and you wondered how that could affect our ship... But back to the trip... so got on the bus marked Tak28. A professor and Dean Al was our trip leaders. It was a ton of people signed up because it was marked as an FDP and some professors were on this trip with their students. I guess maybe the African Dispora class/History class. The tour guide was very talkative and his mic was really loud. Dozed off to sleep during the ride to the first castle of the morning... which was located hours away in Cape Coast. The name of that one... Cape Coast Castle. During the ride it was impossible not to wake up a few times... this guy's voice pierced through your sleep and not to mention, he kept cracking jokes and his laugh was amplified and carried further than you would want it to. Folks weren't really receptive to him because we were all tired...looking around most people were sleeping hahaha... I myself was a bit groggy and slightly irritated haha. Once we finally arrive, we get off the bus, he stops traffic so that we can cross the street and then we follow him inside. We have to pay 2 cedis or $1.50 USD to use our cameras. Naturally, most folks comply. This one professor launches into a whole bit about the bastions and things to look for. He talked from an architectural standpoint and after he kept talking it became bothersome. He wasn't the expert here... and why was he so focused on architecture? I thought there was more located in this vicinity than that. Shaking my head. The tour guide was patient though and let him finish his piece. Then we began the actual tour. He led us down the “male slave dungeon” outside the door, we read the plaque on the left, that was unveiled when President Obama and Michelle visited in 2009. On the right, was the vow that the living made in respect of slavery. It's powerful. “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.” We followed the tour guide into the dungeon and its dark. We have to be careful not to slip because the ground is uneven dirt and it's moist. Our eyes also have to get adjusted to the lack of lighting in what feels like a tiny cave opening. We follow him by listening to his voice. He leads us to the area where there is a light. In the past, they used oil lamps he said. But this particular area was where slaves laid in anticipation of what was to come. He led us in singing “Amazing Grace.” I thought I recorded it but am sad that I changed to the video setting but forgot to press record. Anyhow, the hymn echoed in the space. It was an emotional moment. My voice kept cracking and there was an eerie presence in the midst of us all. The tour guide launched into details of the space. He pointed out the three barred windows in which other than the light from them, the room was pitch black. There was a shallow opening high up on the opposite end of the wall. Here was where the watchman sat. Occasional food and water was held up there as well. There were some white and odd colored lines on the walls if you looked up close. Those were the untouched lines from natural processes that occurred during the duration of the slaves stay. The only time urine and feces was washed away was when it rained and when it trickled in from the windows. Otherwise, slaves slept in the same spots they used the bathroom and/or vomited while chained. Unreal. Unbelievable.

We walked around some more. We got to the room where women were kept. To our dismay, discomfort and disgust, we learned that again, women stayed shackled and unbathed...the river of urine, feces, menstrual blood, and vomit was plentiful and they prayed for the rain which would be the only way it cleanse their living quarters and bodies. I can't begin to tell you how bad it smelled. It was the original floor as was majority of the castle and dungeons. I am thankful they have preserved it. It felt so wrong to be able to walk through the very same areas and be unchained. Not because I am of African descent. But because I am a woman and no woman, or human being for that matter---should be subjected to such an abuse. We examined the square where women stood to be selected for sex with any visiting/residing slave master. There was one well which all supplied all of the slaves water. It was a collection of rain water, and slave masters didn't use/drink the same water. It was considered degrading...and there was a speculation that the water fed to the slaves were perhaps contaminated (although the tour guide said this notion was not proven to be true). Once the male made his choice from his stance above, the slave was summoned to bathe before sex. She then climbed the ladder to his chamber and when the task was completed, she returned to her regular quarters for the continued, usual treatment.There was more to see and it was extremely disheartening, listening to the details. I don't think anyone wanted to know more after some instances, but its one of those situations where you don't want to know but you do. We got to look at the cannons and cannon balls which were still functional to a degree. They were located on different levels outside the watch towers as a means to protect the castle from any approaching civilization. We drifted in the big room where the slaves were traded and sorted based on fitness. We heard about the number of brands slaves would receive for easy identification. We ducked to fit through narrow passageways. I can only imagine what that was like to do while linked with 14 other people. We got to see the bedroom for the Governor's/master. Lastly, we stopped outside the “Door of No Return.” Just listening to the tour guide, and knowing what it meant made me sick. Those who walked through this particular door was never to be seen again. The masters took the regular doors to exit or enter because they were “above” their slaves. Plus they knew what that door meant so it was a big deal and it was difficult not to be emotional... We waited a few moments and then the guide unlatched the bolts and we walked through. Outside the castle were the same waters slaves looked upon... on the left side (shore) was a multitude of fishing boats and people. It was quite a community. On the outside portion of the door, it said “Door of Return” because those of us who were blessed (tourists in that regard) who walked through were experiencing the possibility of “returning.” Thus concluded the tour of the Cape Coast Castle. We lingered for a bit and then we left for lunch.

The best way to describe what I was experiencing was a mixture of shock, numbness and disbelief. I was silent on the bus ride. What was there to talk about? I knew that I would be disturbed for a while. You don't really “bounce back” after a visit like that. It almost seemed superficial that we would be heading to a beautiful hotel resort in Elmina to eat lunch and then visiting the oldest and first castle and slave dungeons (the Elmina Castle). The resort was luxurious and was called Coconut Grove. There were palm trees, and manicured lawns... swimming pools...signs for horseback riding, a crocodile pond, 18 hole golf course... and some other amenities. Definitely weird. The food was fantastic and the view of the waters was nice. But as I sat on the sand overlooking the waters, it was difficult to think about anything but the experience. We left and headed to Elmina Castle.

Elmina Castle was originally white (from the looks of it). It was very elaborate in terms of details and had something like a drawbridge. Once again, we split into two huge groups and began the tour. Much of the castles were similar. Something pretty infuriating that existed in both was the inclusion of church. Both (if not all of the castles) had a church right above the dungeon. In history, we can easily pinpoint extremists who had rather convicting “relationships with God/Allah” or any other spiritual persona. The fact that the church was right above the dungeons where people were treated worse than animals was irony in itself. Unbelievable. The only way to begin to understand is to think from the other person's perspective. They felt they were doing the right thing. Economically, slavery made sense. They felt they were doing God's will...Slaves are responsible for the construction of the global empire we now call the United States. To think that just in the 1960's, the civil right's movement was well underway and we were still begging to be regarded as fellow human beings with the same basic needs and rights... is un-freaking-believable in comparison to the struggle the slaves encountered. Going through the “Door of No Return” in this castle was a bit different. For one, the doors were a lot narrower and lower. I banged my head trying to get through it and I could only imagine trying to do it with chains. It also served as reminder that the sole purpose of the inconvenience was to ensure that slaves were unable to seize any moment and try to escape. It made me wonder about the slaves as individuals. What did it feel like to have been free and suddenly taken in captivity without so much as a indication other than the color of your skin condemned you? This redefines what experiences I have had in subtle racist situations...here, there is no getting around it. The reason why you were packaged as commodity due to the value of the dollar.

As a mixed individual of Native American, Filipino and some sort of African descent...it is quite an experience. I feel that everyone should visit the Castles and Slave Dungeons at some point in their lives and definitely bring your families. It is a part of history, a deep dark part of history that the US has yet to confront and take responsibility. It is after all, the only nation that hasn't formally or publicly really apologized for it. But that's another thing. Just as there are people out there that do not believe the Holocaust exist, there are folks who believe that the conversation of Slavery is trite and it is an over-talked about topic. Some people don't understand how it is relevant anymore. Younger generations like me are so far removed that there is a disconnect in terms of identity. With the combination of the religious background I had, I never actually felt connected to any particular culture anyway. So yes I was apprehensive. And yes, I looked at some of these European folks who asked me if I was excited for Africa xyz and replied as honestly as I felt. Just because I am “black” doesn't make me automatically “connected” and not everyone will have that “at home” sensation. I've never been to Africa nor have I ever really thought of myself as a descendent. I don't have the luxury to have direct lineage of my family history. In fact, one might argue to be at the state of not knowing is the saddest bit of all. It is interesting that I am identified by a continent—Africa(n) American...when there are a ton of countries in Africa, a diverse community of cultures, languages and traditions. I find it interesting that I am considered by black by some and brown by others. If you were a shade of purple, would I be granted the freedoms to call you Purple? Or Green? Or Teal? How is it that most people like me are easily called “Black” as means to define ethnicity...but non-”blacks” are either Italian, German, Irish, Scottish, Hondurian, Guatemalan, Puerto Rican...To be “Black” is vague. Ambiguous. I may have “Black” skin... but am I Jamaican? Dominican? Nigerian? Ethiopian? Ugandan? Haitian? Egyptian? You get my point.

I had spoke to the LLC's with Courtney and Obai earlier that week because of the ignorant comments and disregard fellow SAS'ers had about Africa. It had angered me and made me think of how our visit to Asia would be romanticized and how it had everything to do with the stereotypes of “black people.” It was an interesting phenomenon, watching this side of myself emerge. I don't have many “black” friends, but once in a predominately Caucasian setting, I realize where my strength comes from. I say this to point that it becomes obvious that I am not one of them...so where else do I fit but with the “black” people. I even wrote a poem and will perhaps perform it for the pre-port before South Africa. It is not okay to be ignorant when the sole purpose of this trip should be to respect and understand the people we meet and those backgrounds of others on the ship...

Along with what I wrote...Today, Monday, February 14th I attended a program called “Reflections of Africa from African Americans.” The attendance was diverse. I think that was important to note. I also commend those who showed up and participated. It is a touchy conversation, and numbers make a difference. It's human nature to feel comfortable when we feel we have support and aren't being attacked. One woman asked a very serious question. She asked, what does she do with her guilt... white guilt? When you take a moment and let it marinate the answer becomes clear. We live in a society where instead of acknowledging pain was inflicted and there is still discrepancy in redistribution of wealth and opportunities, folks would much rather make it a generalized note of an ethnic group. You can't suppress and hold an entire group of people for hundreds of years, then assess them as though they were on the same level playing field. Of course you won't have equalized results. If my ancestors had the opportunity to work (for pay) and accumulate property... perhaps there would be more folks like me with things to inherit. Perhaps we would be of the elite number of personnel in the world who dictate the way the governance of the rich and poor should go, and perhaps we would live in our own bubble and have little reason to think of others. I don't have it like that. And thank Gosh I don't have it like that. SAS has been lovely thus far, but there are truly folks from far and wide... and that isn't limited to mentality and wealth on this ship.

I am grateful that this trip has opened up the dialogue about race. I'm not talking about the censored stuff that we engage in back at home... in institutions, in job settings... I mean, the honest, raw kind of stuff. Where yes, people admit they feel guilty for the things their ancestors did. That is a valid statement. There are various reactions. There are the people who want to pick up the pieces and fix the problem that has lingered for centuries and still resonates. How it is tackled is in many ways. Obviously this is why we know why Affirmative Action came into play... there is a difference between empathy and understanding...and pity. Pity equates into hierarchy or an interpretation of supposed superiority... Then there are folks like myself, who by my reactions to others or my internal thoughts upon my arrival to Ghana wonder if I am playing into the innate self-hatred African-Americans were conditioned to feel... is that underlying my detachment to Africa? I appreciate the environment. I appreciate the physicality of the tools required for comprehensive learning. I know slavery existed. I know it is real. I could feel the presence of the suffering for myself in those oppressive quarters. I was not reading from a government, or altered textbook. I was not learning about a culture from those less familiar with it (or in some cases, less interested and simply following pro-tocal/curriculum). The probability of students going to Africa and discovering truths for themselves are slim. Therefore, it makes sense that we mention it in the same manner we mention history and developing civilizations... I will say this, we come full circle with ourselves. Whether we find out our cultural identities or not-- we at some point, arrive where we need to (or we die unfinished when and where we are destined). Some people do not need statistics or geneology to define themselves...they are just as happy with the truths and realities they create for themselves (and their future generations)... To each his own.. As for me, I just want to thank ETS for granting me the window to look into myself.