Ghana Chronicles: Cape Coast Slave Castle
I woke up very early again before the sun came out. I immediately packed a weekend bag in anticipation of the trip to Cape Coast. However, the driver arrived way behind schedule. On true african time, we were more than 2 hours behind schedule but the cool breeze kept us comfortable while we waited on the porch..
I spent more time listening to those around me than actually speaking. I didn’t have much say. I was much more meditative and reflective and the silence was delightful.
I was dressed in a traditional outfit so the woman at the entrance of the castle asked if I was Ghanaian. I said yes and laughed. I finally clarified my answer by saying “I am Ghanaian when I’m in Ghana.” She gave us the student price and we started the tour.
Exploring the castle again after 5 years was like a new experience. There were other details that I learned this time that I don’t remember ever hearing before. Although walking through the castle is a solemn experience, I appreciate the reminder of the hatred that so many cultures were built on. I need to remember the men who raped small children on Saturday night and prayed to their God Sunday morning and the weak, immormal women who supported such behavior. The blantant hyprocrisy of caging people like animals in a dungeon and buidling a church above them is sickening.
Slavery was cruel and evil and too inhumane for me to even attempt to rationalize. Yet, those of us who are black and brown survived atrocities that others would have never been able to endure. Still we RISE.
“In nothing was slavery so savage and relentless as in its attempted destruction of the family instincts of the Negro race in America. Individuals, not families; shelters, not homes; herding, not marriages, were the cardinal sins in that system of horrors.”
-FANNIE BARRIER WILLIAMS, Loewenberg’s Black Women in Nineteenth-Century American Life