Apologies first and foremost to my blog-followers. I have no excuse as to why it has taken me so long to post again, just reasons!
So I will rewind a bit to bring you up to what I have been preoccupied with.
October 19th saw me travelling towards the Western part of Ghana (towards Cote d'Ivoire) to a small city called Shama, near Takoradi. I went with my boss/Director of HelpAge Ghana (HAG), my roommate, Beth and HAG's driver/my brother, Nat. The purpose of our visit was to check on the progress of a corn mill that had broken down there in a rural area near the ocean.
From my understanding, HAG funded this corn mill for elderly women to bring their maize to grind themselves (it is a staple food here) and potentially sell out of a shop that is to be built onto the mill.
The whole thing was really just a foundation and looked quite dilapidated to me in fact. My roommate and I were a bit dismayed at what we saw.
We also took time to meet with a former leader of HAG for the Shama zone who appeared quite dismayed and angry at the direction HAG was going in terms of what was not happening in her community. She spoke her local language, complaining to my boss, so I missed everything...
I miss a lot here in fact.
The pollution along the coast line got to me as well. So much of the water we saw was brackish and as I mentioned in a previous blog, the ocean just churns black plastic bags, over and over again with human waste, forgotten clothing and old rice bags. It's very sad in fact b/c Ghana has the potential to have one of the most pristine coastlines but it's just not within the citizens yet to not litter and pollute their countryside. Even the gutters in Accra are just plenty full of rubbish. Nasty.
This was also the day I learned of the passing of South Africa's (if not Africa's) biggest reggae star, Lucky Dube. It came over all newscasts that he had been shot in a 'botched robbery'.
Oh South Africa... when will your people realize the potential for change is all within themselves??... I suppose when the disparity between the white and black SA's dissolves into oneness... is that even possible in my lifetime?
It saddened me and most Ghanaians here to learn of this news. Dube was a pure image of what independent Africa could and should look like. It is such a shame his life had to be spared & in front of his children--, all in the name of stealing a 'nice car'?
I continue praying for you, South Africa every day...
The final but most poignant part of my journey to Shama was one of the last activities we did-- which was to visit the Shama Castle, a former Portuguese-run, slave castle that Ghanaians were banished to before heading to the Caribbean.
Haunting is an understatement for the adjective I'm searching for to describe what was running through my veins as we went from room to room... hearing the atrocious tales of what the Portuguese did to their slaves.
One of the first things the tour guide did was show us remnants of some of the former slaves... we saw tibia bones, wrists and even someones jawline with teeth intact. It just stung my soul with deep and raw emotion and my overall being in general.
We were taken to rooms the size of my garage in Formosa where 350 men & women were forced to stay. They were held in this tiny room for 3 months before being shipped off to the Caribbean (where most would then die)-- serving the remainder of their lives as slaves (that is, if they survived the treacherous journey by sea).
These rooms had 1 air hole slit the length of a school ruler(30cm) and maybe an inch high and the slaves were kept captive in the darkness on 1 meal a day (and the 'meal' I mean was just something to sustain them for the day, & to not have them going to the bathroom too often. They were given 1 pot to use as a toilet for all those 100's of people and a slave was given the task of emptying it 1/day. Can you imagine the smell and filth that saturated that dark and dank room? As well, they were only allowed to bathe 1 time in the 3 months and that was before they boarded the ships to carry them away... and it was described as an 'assembly-line' type bath where the guards hosed them down as if they were animals.
There were shackles that remained in an archway where slaves were used as 'examples' to others who were caught doing indecent acts (such as a husband and wife attempting to have sex)-- the man would be shackled and hung there, whipped and tortured as an example to other husbands contemplating this act as well.
They called 1 room the 'point of no return' room that had a crack in the wall (man-made) where the slaves would file into when their time came to board the ships that would leave the Gold Coast (Ghana) to travel to the Caribbean.
There were underground tunnels that went from the castle to the oceanfront, so as to hide what was really happening from other Ghanaian's living in Shama, if you can imagine. So they would be walked underground with their shackles (so as to not escape), through these dark tunnels to the point where they would board the boat that would change the rest of the life they knew in Ghana, before being captured.
It was sick to have to go to the top of the castle where the Portuguese Captain slept-- in a beautiful, airy room (have I mentioned yet how HOT Ghana is?!) with a gorgeous ocean-view.
In an ironic twist, young school children attending a school nearby starting chanting to my roommate and I, "obroni, how are you!?!" Obroni means 'white person'. So there we stood... high atop this former slave castle and though they were just children, it felt strange to be revered in that moment... and there is too much of that in my opinion here... bestowing so much prestige and knowledge with white people here. We are all one and have a lot to learn from one another.
Even as I sit here typing this today-- and I left that castle over a month ago now, I can still feel the spirits of the lives lost there around me and all the stories they had to share-- but never got the chance. It is such a privilege for us to walk about this earth as free as most of us do... never fully knowing or acknowledging the plight so many of our brothers and sisters had to endure, just so we could be this free.
Before leaving the castle for good (and my roommate stole a photo of me while deep in thought which I treasure now...), I sat on those steep and dangerous steps that led up to the moment that solidified my views on slavery.
All that kept running through my mind was, 'God, will you ever forgive us for what we've done to one another'?
Will He? Can He?
So I will rewind a bit to bring you up to what I have been preoccupied with.
October 19th saw me travelling towards the Western part of Ghana (towards Cote d'Ivoire) to a small city called Shama, near Takoradi. I went with my boss/Director of HelpAge Ghana (HAG), my roommate, Beth and HAG's driver/my brother, Nat. The purpose of our visit was to check on the progress of a corn mill that had broken down there in a rural area near the ocean.
From my understanding, HAG funded this corn mill for elderly women to bring their maize to grind themselves (it is a staple food here) and potentially sell out of a shop that is to be built onto the mill.
The whole thing was really just a foundation and looked quite dilapidated to me in fact. My roommate and I were a bit dismayed at what we saw.
We also took time to meet with a former leader of HAG for the Shama zone who appeared quite dismayed and angry at the direction HAG was going in terms of what was not happening in her community. She spoke her local language, complaining to my boss, so I missed everything...
I miss a lot here in fact.
The pollution along the coast line got to me as well. So much of the water we saw was brackish and as I mentioned in a previous blog, the ocean just churns black plastic bags, over and over again with human waste, forgotten clothing and old rice bags. It's very sad in fact b/c Ghana has the potential to have one of the most pristine coastlines but it's just not within the citizens yet to not litter and pollute their countryside. Even the gutters in Accra are just plenty full of rubbish. Nasty.
This was also the day I learned of the passing of South Africa's (if not Africa's) biggest reggae star, Lucky Dube. It came over all newscasts that he had been shot in a 'botched robbery'.
Oh South Africa... when will your people realize the potential for change is all within themselves??... I suppose when the disparity between the white and black SA's dissolves into oneness... is that even possible in my lifetime?
It saddened me and most Ghanaians here to learn of this news. Dube was a pure image of what independent Africa could and should look like. It is such a shame his life had to be spared & in front of his children--, all in the name of stealing a 'nice car'?
I continue praying for you, South Africa every day...
The final but most poignant part of my journey to Shama was one of the last activities we did-- which was to visit the Shama Castle, a former Portuguese-run, slave castle that Ghanaians were banished to before heading to the Caribbean.
Haunting is an understatement for the adjective I'm searching for to describe what was running through my veins as we went from room to room... hearing the atrocious tales of what the Portuguese did to their slaves.
One of the first things the tour guide did was show us remnants of some of the former slaves... we saw tibia bones, wrists and even someones jawline with teeth intact. It just stung my soul with deep and raw emotion and my overall being in general.
We were taken to rooms the size of my garage in Formosa where 350 men & women were forced to stay. They were held in this tiny room for 3 months before being shipped off to the Caribbean (where most would then die)-- serving the remainder of their lives as slaves (that is, if they survived the treacherous journey by sea).
These rooms had 1 air hole slit the length of a school ruler(30cm) and maybe an inch high and the slaves were kept captive in the darkness on 1 meal a day (and the 'meal' I mean was just something to sustain them for the day, & to not have them going to the bathroom too often. They were given 1 pot to use as a toilet for all those 100's of people and a slave was given the task of emptying it 1/day. Can you imagine the smell and filth that saturated that dark and dank room? As well, they were only allowed to bathe 1 time in the 3 months and that was before they boarded the ships to carry them away... and it was described as an 'assembly-line' type bath where the guards hosed them down as if they were animals.
There were shackles that remained in an archway where slaves were used as 'examples' to others who were caught doing indecent acts (such as a husband and wife attempting to have sex)-- the man would be shackled and hung there, whipped and tortured as an example to other husbands contemplating this act as well.
They called 1 room the 'point of no return' room that had a crack in the wall (man-made) where the slaves would file into when their time came to board the ships that would leave the Gold Coast (Ghana) to travel to the Caribbean.
There were underground tunnels that went from the castle to the oceanfront, so as to hide what was really happening from other Ghanaian's living in Shama, if you can imagine. So they would be walked underground with their shackles (so as to not escape), through these dark tunnels to the point where they would board the boat that would change the rest of the life they knew in Ghana, before being captured.
It was sick to have to go to the top of the castle where the Portuguese Captain slept-- in a beautiful, airy room (have I mentioned yet how HOT Ghana is?!) with a gorgeous ocean-view.
In an ironic twist, young school children attending a school nearby starting chanting to my roommate and I, "obroni, how are you!?!" Obroni means 'white person'. So there we stood... high atop this former slave castle and though they were just children, it felt strange to be revered in that moment... and there is too much of that in my opinion here... bestowing so much prestige and knowledge with white people here. We are all one and have a lot to learn from one another.
Even as I sit here typing this today-- and I left that castle over a month ago now, I can still feel the spirits of the lives lost there around me and all the stories they had to share-- but never got the chance. It is such a privilege for us to walk about this earth as free as most of us do... never fully knowing or acknowledging the plight so many of our brothers and sisters had to endure, just so we could be this free.
Before leaving the castle for good (and my roommate stole a photo of me while deep in thought which I treasure now...), I sat on those steep and dangerous steps that led up to the moment that solidified my views on slavery.
All that kept running through my mind was, 'God, will you ever forgive us for what we've done to one another'?
Will He? Can He?
3 comments:
This is grate baby, you did visit paga, kakum.you really enjoyed Ghana.welcome to the ghanaian hospitality,
But you made me missed home for the past three years of being away from home.
grate looking at them wish looking now and then.
kobina
To all who visit this wonderfull blogg and will also like to visit Ghana, as tourist fot 6 weeks can start planining.
For Ghana is really the worm hart of west Africa.A well trained team are ready to make your six weeks hollidays a thing of joy...........
for deatil contact
Happy tours.......
Email: agyapong@accamail.com
Hmmm feel the spirits too. I live in uk but my wife lives at beach road..off shama junction. I go to the castle now and again.der is even a post office in the grounds next to the lantern holders where they used to tie slaves and lash them... Deep history!!!
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