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July 4

Kwame Nkrumah Memorial & W. E. B. DuBois Memorial Centre for Pan-African Culture

Kwame Nkrumah was the first president of Ghana. He led the country with the CPP (Convention People Party) to independence. Death, the dead, and funerals are taken very seriously in Ghana due to their indigenous beliefs in ancestral spirits. They want their dead to pass on to that realm safely. They also must be honored and celebrated with their favorite things. Some people have their coffins shaped as fish or some other symbol of their profession or passion. Thus Nkrumah’s memorial is also his burial place. There was a massive structure surrounded by water and small bridges for people to come pay homage and see his “tomb.” Surrounding the granite structure was more small bodies of water within a park. They also had a small museum which told of his life and works. It was my first lesson in understanding how seriously Ghanaians do really take their dead loved ones.

The W. E. B. DuBois Center was incredible. It was a small plot of land, inside the home he resided in Ghana. DuBois was born in America, but moved to Ghana when invited by Kwame Nkrumah. He was a Pan-Africanist, sociologist, historian, activist, and author. He was regarded as an extremely wise man who did much for Civil Rights and Pan-Africanist efforts. Pan-Africanism is the movement of all those of African descent in the diaspora back to Africa where all Africans can unite and work together to raise the continent and its people. We visited his library where other students were cataloging and recording the condition of his books. He had a first edition of the 1776 (BLANK). My favorite room was the largest, the living room, which didn’t have much in it. However, all over the walls were little snippits of people who had worked in the direction of a better world for Africans and Africans in the diaspora. It was inspiring and overwhelming to read the things they had accomplished in such an intolerant, difficult time. It gave me hope for the work we are doing. I also really enjoyed the library that is open to the public. It has all these books on philosophy, history, and political science, some of my favorite things. The topics are radical, critical, and mind-boggling. I can’t wait to visit many more times to work in this library for my research.

Katerina Traut

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The Carbon Man

July 19th

I feel like I have not blogged in a while, mainly because I have been doing research on my project or I have been reading an interesting book. The extent of my days has consisted of going to Legon (University of Ghana) or to the Turkish restaurant during power outages so we could access the wifi for our projects. But this past evening, I experienced an amazing art show in Osu that was put on by Serge Attukwei Clottey and a collective of intellectual artists.

In this live art event, the artists dealt with questions, “How does one create a reality for oneself, and what psychic/physical barriers exist when feeling displaced? When moving from one location to another, how does one re-construct an environment/experience that is familiar?”

As a black body, he stood in a restricted white space at a time that he felt displaced, and had everyday-use objects in his space: a kettle, coffee jar, toilet paper, oil, paintbrush, and string. For an entire hour, his anxious, frustrated, and confused being painted himself white, then black after removing the veil of color consciousness, painted a face that he felt was prevalent of the time and space, and wrote powerful sentences on the canvas that were expressive of an understanding of identity. The message was so clear in his live art that as a black body of the diaspora moving through an unfamiliar space and time that you may not feel comfortable but you have to create a space for yourself which makes you feel at home.

It was so amazing being at this show because seeing intelligent, and creative African people do something so relevant to people of the Black Diaspora was moving and inspiring. I just finished reading, The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B Dubois, and the connections of that book to the visuals of the live art were numerous. The idea of The Veil that Dubois writes about was something that this live artist experienced after putting on a layer of white chalk on his skin and realizing that he was not this color, and then covering it with black oil, a pure jet black color to what is own identity matches with.

 It was striking to understand the similarities that Africans and African Americans feel, in terms of an identity crisis. As an African American, a loss of culture erupted after times of transatlantic slavery and therefore it had to be re-created into something as familiar as possible, or to a place where we feel comfortable. In Africa, if one feels displaced in a majority white space and time, or even to a black diasporic location, they still feel that identity crisis in wondering what is socially acceptable in this new space and time.

 After going to this show, I want to support this group as much as possible. We are going to go to their next show on July 30th and listen to an Afro-Future band.

Miles Davis 

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July 15, 2015

 It’s about 3:30 in the afternoon and 2 of my group members and I sit at one of our favorite spots, DNR, a local Turkish restaurant, typing away on our computers. Our day started like most of our days in the past week or so in being awoken by the sound of construction happening on the floor above us and eating a breakfast of eggs, baked beans, toast, and fruit.

Since the beginning of our personal research, our days have turned much more casual and relaxed where we have woken up at times we established were fitting (and appropriate) and have spent much of that time at the Institute of African Studies library at the University of Ghana in Legon. Because our hostel has planned blackouts essentially everyday between noon and 5pm, we have headed to the library or other places like DNR that have power and free Internet. Each one of us has taken away a different experience from our visits to the slave castles during our time in Cape Coast, which has translated into each of our individual research topics.

My research surrounds the silence around the slave trade and how as a country, Ghana is not having an open discussion about this dark moment in their history and how it still affects them today. In speaking to professors and individuals, most do not know much about the history that reaches back into the 16th-19th century due to the fact that they consider their history to have begun when they won their independence and were born as Ghana. Because of this, when they left the Western given name, Gold Coast, behind, they left behind its history as well. As I am an English major, I’ve been analyzing the literature I could find that surrounds this silence from authors like Ama Ata Aidoo and Kwodwo Opoku Agyemang. Their writings have enlightened me with a perspective I would have never experienced if I hadn’t delved into this topic.

I can say that about probably my entire experience of being here in Ghana. I would not have learned most of what I have learned in the past 3 weeks if I had not been on this trip. Stimulating conversations are interspersed with casual ones on the daily and my mind feels as full as my stomach after spending a meal with my group.

Next week, we’re returning to the beautiful Cape Coast and staying at Coconut Grove Resort once again to continue some research and spend much desired time on the beach. After we return, it’ll only be another week and a half before we make our way back stateside which is quite scary to consider. The time has flown by while being here and will only continue to do so until we near our return. I’ve been thinking a lot about what it will be like to return home. I won’t have to be cautious about taking ice with my drink at a restaurant or having to brush my teeth with bottled water rather than the sink. Humidity will no longer be a problem where I’m going (hopefully) and I’ll have constant power. Being here for the past few weeks, I’ve grown accustomed to all these adjustments I’ve had to make to the point that I don’t question or hesitate with them anymore. For some moments, I even forget that I’m having all these experiences in Ghana, so many miles from home. It feels like home because of the routine that we’ve fallen into of doing our research and knowing our way around Accra. Returning home will either feel alien or familiar and I’m interested to see how I handle it.

This past Sunday, in between our research days, the group headed to Tema to attend a post-funeral celebration with Professor Essien. The woman who had passed had been an influential woman in Prof. Essien’s life and because of his connection to her, we wore traditional clothing that matched in pattern to that which the family wore. We attended a Pentecostal church service which was extremely different from what any of us were used to in that the pastor would shout for the duration of his sermon which had started quite early. There was upwards of 1000 individuals at the service which was another sight to see. Personally, I disagreed with most of what the pastor was preaching because of my own beliefs and faith but it was truly an interesting experience to have. After the service, we headed to a nearby park where there was food, donations, and music which essentially modeled a celebration of life for the deceased. It was a long day but one that helped immerse us in a funeral tradition of the Fanti people.

a picture with Prof. Essien and his mother

a little friend I made while waiting for the food to be put out

On another note, the girls and I ventured to a nearby hair place yesterday where Karen had gotten braids and I decided to get cornrows on one side of my head. I was afraid of what it would look like but I’ve grown to love it after only having it for a day. I’m entertaining the notion of redoing it right before I leave for the states and keeping it for a while.

[lehighinaccra]

July 12 - Research: Under Construction

Our weekdays now consist of: 1. compiling our research for the Sites of Memory 2015 project which is centered mainly around our Slave Castle visits and the lectures we’ve had with African professors, 2. compiling our research for our individual research projects which we chose with the mentorship of Prof. Essien and Prof. Peterson. 

My individual research project is titled: The Roots of Pan-Africanism in Western Africa and Contemporary Examples of Pan-Africanist Movements in Modern Day Ghana. I will be taking a close look at the influence of some Pan-Africanist Giants such as W.E.B. DuBois, Marcus Garvey, and Ghana’s very own first president: Kwame Nkrumah, whose Pan-Africanist vision won him several adversaries, death threats, and exile to Guinea. 

We have been making use of the Library at the Institute of African Studies at the University of Ghana. We are so fortunate to have access to the resources there, a comfortable 5-minute cab drive from the Hostel at which we stay. 

I will also have access to the W.E.B. DuBois Memorial Centre for PanAfrican Culture, located near the U.S. Embassy. A tro-tro and a taxi ride away in Central Accra. There I will be able to look through the books in his library and find enlightening information for my project. 

1780s map of Africa from the travel notes of M. le Vaillant. 

Karen Valerio  East Legon, Ghana July 12 2015

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Republic Day

July 1, 2015

 It’s Republic Day. We leave Cape Coast, ending a short “vacation” to the beach and head back to Accra to our hostel. On the 3 hour drive, we ride past unfinished houses, possibly due to the lack of resources, paid human labor, or lack of motivation. On the streets, we pass thousands of people selling the widest array of goods from cell phone minutes, homemade food, to maps. And the sales prices for some of these objects go as low as 1 cedi, equivalent to $0.25, so the sellers are not making much money.

It’s Republic Day. We stop at the West Point Mall to get lunch. The sun shines bright and there is an energy that brings the people out. It is packed, as students, families, and plenty of other individuals of African and Asian decent are out enjoying the holiday. More people flood the mall as time goes on, and it seems like a hotspot for people. We leave the Mall and head back to our hostel, back where people are hustling on the street and power outages are frequent. We rest up, and get ready for the night.

It’s Republic Day, and also Reggae Night at Labadi Beach, so we know from many sources that it will be a lot of people out tonight. We arrive at the beach around 11, and it is a plethora of black bodies on the sand liquefying and dancing to the nonstop beat of the music. It was LIVE and POPPING! So many young people were out and having a blast on this night, and it seemed like the night would never end. It was a Happy Republic Day.

Republic Day holds significance for Ghanaians, as it was the day that Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah, proclaimed the country a Republic. People celebrate it kind of like how American’s celebrate the 4th of July and our Independence Day, with good music and dancing, good food, and libations.

However, this Republic Day took a different side than fun when it came to social media and bringing awareness to the world about the shortcomings of their current President Mahama. Citizens tweeted about the significance of being a Republic, or lack thereof, if there are terrible economic conditions, such as depreciating cedi value, increase of fuel prices and utility tariffs, as well as a lack of job opportunities and frequent power outages. There is a population of millions of people, and increasing everyday, and the current infrastructure and economy is not keeping up with the growth rate. Many Ghanaians seem upset, if they are completely aware of their country and the effects of their political leader.

Despite the conditions of this country, I find it beautiful that at the end of the day, these Black People can look past the negatives and go out and have a good time to enjoy what their first president has done for them. I’m am glad that despite it all, the Black Soul still finds something to rejoice in, and other souls to rejoice with.

 Miles Davis

July 4th, 2015

[lehighinaccra]

July 3, 2015

 This past week has been so incredible and certainly went by way too quickly. On Monday, we headed to Cape Coast to see the slave castles and were blessed to stay at a resort where we could eat our meals essentially on the beach. The air was thick with moisture and bugs (I now have 74 bug bites and counting) and the sun was hot on our backs but the three days we were able to spend there were great. Our first night was definitely a struggle as our air conditioning in our room was not working in any capacity but we stuck it out. In the hopes of watching the sunrise over the water, some of us woke up at 5:30 to watch the sunrise on the beach. It was overcast but no less beautiful and we sat in silence as we watched the waves crash against the rocks and roll back into the ocean. On our second day at the resort, we visited Elmina Castle, and then returned to the resort for a free afternoon. The four of us were thrilled to change out of our sweaty clothes into swimsuits and headed to the pool where we stayed for several hours.

 Construction was being done in the pool area and it felt strange to be leisurely wading in a perfect temperature pool when so many were working so hard next to us. That’s definitely something that I have noticed while being here. Every single person is working so hard day in and day out. Taxi drivers, tro-tro drivers (Accra’s version of public transportation that is incredibly convenient and extremely cheap), those working in the markets, and walking through lines of cars selling various products, and those working in all the establishments we’ve visited. While sitting in traffic, one could buy plantain chips, calling cards, toilet paper, chocolate, bread, and large assortment of other things. Most carry baskets on their heads as they walk around selling what they can to those driving through the city. It’s an incredible sight to see and is telling of how hardworking the people here are and is something that I admire greatly. When we visited different markets, Makola in particular, there are streets literally lined with storefronts of people selling clothes, food, luggage, shoes, jewelry, etc. all in the efforts of making money to support themselves and their families.

After our time in the pool, we headed to the beach where the sand consisted more of tiny rocks rather than small grains of sand. As the tide would roll in, my feet would sink deeper and deeper into the sand as the water rolling back threatened to pull me with it. The tide seems much stronger here and the water was a perfect temperature. We ran along the shore for who knows how long and helped Miles shoot a music video (lol). We stayed out on the water till the clouded sun began to descend and we returned to get ready for dinner.

The day we returned from Cape Coast was Ghana’s Republic Day, and we stopped at West Hills Mall for lunch where our van broke down. Our wonderful driver and now amazing friend, George, magically procured an electrician to fix the car on this national holiday, and we returned to the hostel. That night, we got dinner at an outdoor fish place on the same street as our hostel. All they served here was smoked tilapia with sauce and vegetables and banku (a traditional Ghanaian food) without utensils. The storefront included a table where they took our order with a cooler and two smokers where stacks of fish smoked away. When I asked for a fork to eat this giant fish, the waitress looked confused and said they didn’t have any. Instead, she brought a stack of napkins, soap, and a bowl of warm water. James and I delved in and devoured our fish quickly, seldom taking breaks until nothing was left but the bones. It was probably the most delicious fish I had eaten. This place is definitely somewhere to go often in our remaining time here. After dinner, the group headed to Labadi Beach where it was reggae night. There were crowds of people all over the beach due to the fact that it was Republic Day and because of reggae night, which we had heard was a good day to be at Labadi.

The next day, we headed to University of Ghana where Professor Ampofo talked to us about the history of the university and some of her own research. We got lunch at a restaurant on campus and then headed to the Nkrumah Memorial and Art Center. The memorial included a park and the nation’s first president’s burial site which was beautiful, we then went to a small museum that held pictures of Nkrumah and some of his personal items. After, we made it to the Art Center, a large lot filled with a market of individuals selling their crafts. Each store held countless paintings, dresses, jewelry, bags, wood pieces, etc. I finally bought a beautiful and comfortable dashiki and some other little things. We returned home and as we prepared to go to our favorite spot, Chez Afrique, for a goodbye dinner to Dr. Peterson and his family, rain had started to pour down in all directions and we took cabs to our home base restaurant rather than walking.

To sum up, I have 74 bug bites all over my body, a nice developing tan, and a full stomach and mind and a slightly lighter wallet so far and it’s only been about a week and a half. I wouldn’t have it any other way and I can’t wait to see what will come of the next 4 weeks.

[lehighinaccra]

Elmina Castle

June 30, 2015

6:44am, George, our driver wakes me up and goes “it’s almost 7am.” We are supposed to go for a morning run on the beach. We get ready, get on the beach and get to running. It’s a cloudy morning, as it starts pouring no more than 10 minutes into our run. It is the rainy season, so it was expected. We relax and get some shelter beneath a hut with a bamboo roof. George tells me about the culture of Ghana, the benefits of coconuts and how he climbed coconut trees in the village, and about the love and respect Ghanaians have for foreigners. The rain subsided; we finished our run, and stretched our bodies as wide as we could in humility of the Atlantic Ocean’s vastness right in front of us. We felt good and ready for the day, ready to visit the second slave castle of the trip, and the first one built for the slaves at Elmina.

   Elmina Castle was a containment quarters for 1000 slaves at a time, 600 males and 400 females, and was built by the Dutch. Walking in there was solemn, as I could remember how I felt when we were at Cape Coast Castle the day before. We were walking on the same floor that slaves walked on and where atrocities were committed. We were in the quad area, getting a history lesson on the castle by the tour guide, and then our moods completely when from sadness to joy. A group of more than fifty toddlers come in the castle and start laughing at us. They had the brightest smiles and the funniest laughs, and then they all run towards us to give us hugs. They were overjoyed to see foreigners at such a young age, that we soon became filled with joy, despite being in the walls of this horrible castle.

The rest of the castle tour was not as heavy in emotions as the first castle because of the light that these young children brought to us. They made all the difference in the world.

           There was one part of the tour that did not sit well with me though, that felt too real for an experience, too authentic. We were brought to a small hole in the wall, large enough for about 10 people, with no light or anything coming through. It read “Cell” on the side, and was a cell where 100% of the people that entered did not come out alive, due to starvation and suffocation. We entered the cell, and the guide closed the door. Darkness engulfed us, and thick heat was it’s fatal partner in crime. I felt like I was going to be locked in there forever when that cell door closed, just as our ancestors did. We had to get out of there, thankfully the 6-year-old girl that accompanied us was afraid of the dark and our guide opened the gate back up, and we saw light again.           

These lands are so interesting. It’s a castle with a dark, and dehumanizing history, but it sits on the edge of land on a beautiful beach, in a town where not many people know about the true horrors that existed there. It makes me wonder so many things; such as why would people be so evil? Why must the people of Elmina who know about the depths of the evils of slavery be constantly reminded of these horrors when they walk outside and see this castle on the hill?

We finish the castle viewing, and we go into town to see a family house that was once associated with the Chief who sold slaves to the British. The plaque was on the outside wall of the building, which read a thank you from the British to the Asanti chief who helped trading the slaves to them. It was interesting to see that site, and I also wondered if the citizens of the town had any knowledge about that building and the significance of that plaque. That moment, as we were focusing on the tragedy of slavery at that building, three little girls that were elated to see us, came up to us and started laughing hysterically. Once again, these little children made our day even better than it was. And after a long morning of historical lessons and sites of memory, we went back to our resort and enjoyed the sunny day on the beach, on this side of the Atlantic.

Miles Davis

July 3

[lehighinaccra]

Some of the Harder Days, Better Days

June 29, 2015: Cape Coast Castle

Today we took about a three hour personal bus (with George as our driver once again) to Cape Coast. We visited the main slave castle located there. It happened so fast. We suddenly were in front of the massive, gray-cracking, white structure. We had spoken about this place for so long and I knew it was coming but I didn’t know it was coming this quickly. I didn’t realize we were “touring” it today. I wasn’t ready. But who is ever ready for something like that?

I first learned about these castles about nine months ago. I saw in a dingy documentary for the first time: the dark places these human beings were stored for movement to the Americas and the Caribbean islands. The documentary was haunting. So I knew to a certain degree what was coming.

Nothing can prepare you for what you learn there.

Our first stop in the castle was the Male Slave quarters. It was a tunnel slanted downwards where you questioned your every step, careful not to fall. Immediately you were covered in darkness and the darkness which occurred there sinks into your skin. The air thickens and your nose catches smells that tell something about the small stone box, but you don’t know yet. The smell of age and stale dankness begin to tell the story you await to hear. You have the strangest fears in this moment, as you are walking down the slanted stone path, that you need to be completely alert because anything or anyone could come from the darkness and put you in chains and make you stay in this dreadful dungeon. And then the tightness in your chest comes in, and my eyebrows furrowed in disappointment and hurt because that is exactly what happened to tens of millions of people (the real number unknown to this date) in this exact place.

It was a five by ten yard room. Ceilings high enough that the three 1 by 1 foot slivers of light allowed in held no promise of escape. We began to hear the history the room that had been compelling us to understand through our senses. About 200+ human beings were packed into these room for no less than two and no more than three months awaiting their day to see their ocean again. Although their ocean served as a passage this time to a foreign planet. They ate, drank, slept, defecated, urinated, vomited, bled, died, and cried in this room. My instincts told me before the tour guide had to that the small valleys in the floor were for drainage of these fluids. However with these rooms sustaining 200-300 years of cycles of the same number of humans in and out, the drainage system clogged at some point. It wasn’t until we walked into the identical adjacent room, where the floor was not excavated that we understood fully the conditions. We looked down upon this floor and instead of stone, we saw smooth blackness. About three feet of human waste (feces, urine, blood) had hardened over the centuries to create the floor we stood upon. There it was, right beneath my feet. Pieces of these people left behind. About one fourth of those held died in these dungeons. Those ready for the passage were strong and had beat simulated natural selection. Above these three identical rooms carrying up to about 1,000 captured Africans was the castle’s church and children’s library.

The women’s quarter was much the same in condition only there were larger windows and they held less people. They needed men for hard labor. But women were mostly used to breed more slaves and to do housework. Of course they also helped in the labor.

The governor’s quarters were at the top of the castle. About six or seven large windows lined the semi-circular room fit for a king. The views were breathtaking. One showed a lush palm tree lined beach with gorgeous waves crashing onto the sand. Another the endless Atlantic ocean. The views beautiful, and sickening. This land, their land, was enjoyed by those who enslaved them while they waited in their own filth and disaster to be stolen away, never to return to their homes, lands, and families. The governor must have lived comfortably, elegantly, with dignity. We wonder whether the screams interrupted this.

We must understand how and why this happened. Why it really happened. Yes, it was wicked, horrific, filled with evil and all those things you can’t describe because of their darkness and implausibility. But how does a human get to this point we must wonder. What throughout their lives allows them to dehumanize another human in this way? Economic demand and money can. But there are pieces to this that itch at me further. The education of these human beings. The necessity of these castles and this sick unending treatment of Africans and eventually African Americans was fierce. Without them, the system of slavery as it was created from Africa to the West would not have survived for as long as it did (centuries). There needed to be education on both ends of the equation, the slaves and the captors. Those captured needed to begin their education in the worthlessness of themselves. Once those who made it through the Middle Passage, another one half lost at sea, arrived in the Caribbean islands, there education was furthered. They went through boot-camps, if you will, in learning how their position could never change, and shouldn’t, based on their inferiority. Those committing this against them, the Europeans, needed to detach themselves from these human beings, dehumanizing themselves, in order to do what was to their economic advantage. They disconnected from their own humanity and emotion which translated to a people’s being subjugated and tortured in perhaps the most disgusting, despicable way, by fellow human beings, for centuries.

I call them factories because these castles, like the Middle Passage, and the treatment of African and African American slaves afterwards, prepared the slaves, the “products”, for their role. Their walk through the “Door of No Return” was the conveyor belt.

The view from the male dungeon 

One of the seven views from the governor’s room

June 30, 2015: Elmina Castle

After our visit to Cape Coast, we had lunch and headed to the resort we planned to stay at. Wow, is this place beautiful. At first it seemed wrong that we were staying in such a luxurious, exotic, and gorgeous resort (which was still cheap by American standards). However it seemed our professors knew what was best (as per usual) for us. It was the perfect place to unwind, process what we had learned, felt, and seen, and enjoy another beautiful part of Ghana. It really has been doing just that.

Today was the second castle, Elmina or St. George’s Castle, located about 30 minutes from Cape Coast. We knew what to expect today, that made it easier than the first time. The tour guide also didn’t have the presence that the first one did. The narrative was not nearly as intense.

One of the most difficult parts was learning about the prevalence of sexual abuse in this castle. Captured African women lined up outside their prison in a courtyard while the master or governor stood on his balcony above, choosing the one he wanted that day. There was a well in the middle of the courtyard where they stood. The only time they got to wash their bodies was when they would be used. Archaeologists have studied the structure of the building to conclude this. The layout of the female dungeon was so that the governor and lieutenants lived directly two floors above. There is a trap door with a staircase leading to the governor’s quarters. Many times women were impregnated by these men and even married the white slave captors and had “mulatto” children. These children would go to school in the castle and perhaps live outside the castle in the town of Elmina. It was mostly about survival for these women. Those who resisted and did not allow themselves to be used in this way were chained to the middle of the courtyard in all weather conditions, blazing sun and pounding rain, and often times starved. They were on display for the other women as examples of what happened to those who resist.

Another place that haunted me a bit was “The Cell.” This tiny room, separate from all living quarters, was used to slowly kill Africans who tried to escape. They were locked in this small room with no windows and no source of air or light until they died. All who entered this cell died. No one survived it. They were given this death for demanding their own freedom. Directly next to it was a cell with three windows and a more open door with only a few bars. This was used for the Europeans who left to go into town without permission, coming back drunk. They were left there for a few hours for being bad.

The castle was larger and there were two churches built within it, used at different times, and created for the Catholic and later the Protestants when the castle was transferred from the Portuguese to the Dutch. It is hard to hear that every time. The churches were used to justify the actions taken within those stone walls.  

The highlight of this castle was the fifty or so school children who happened to be on a “field trip” to the castle. As soon as they saw the “abronis” the entire castle courtyard boomed with children’s laughter. It was the most paradoxical moment yet it brought smiles and laughter to all of us in the middle of the tour. They couldn’t get enough of us. When we began to pass them, it was as if I was in a football game. The four or five year olds swarmed our legs, continuing the loudest laughter I had ever seen or heard. There were so many of them grouping up hugging me that I was almost knocked over. Seeing and hearing these young children in their innocent ignorance of their location, having fun with their school mates took away from the evil and sadness of this place. If there are spirits and souls, I think those of the human beings who passed on in that place would have been laughing and smiling with them. There could be a future of goodness and humanity, if we only took lessons from these children.

View from the governor’s balcony of the courtyard surrounded by the holding rooms for female prisoners 

The slave cell for Africans to the left, the “bad boys” cell for Europeans to the right. 

Those who lighten the load

Those who lighten the load 

Katerina Traut

July 2, 2015

[lehighinaccra]

Cape Coast & Elmina Castle

6/29/15

After starting our journey to Cape Coast quite late, we slowly made our way out of Accra where the views changed from industrial and bustling to lush green and quiet.

Continuing, we make it to Cape Coast and drive through small roads where the architecture differs much from what we see in Accra where the buildings appeared to have European influence as we neared closer and closer to the castle. Cape Coast Castle is one of about 40 castles found along the coast of West Africa that was built primarily for the housing of slaves during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade and oversaw the transportation of tens of millions of slaves in ships to the New World.

As we pulled up to the entrance, I think the reality of the significance of where we were sank in as I prepared myself to enter this enormous castle that had done so much hurt to a people. We were led on a tour and began at the entrance to the male dungeons where male captives were kept for up to 1-3 months. We descended into darkness and what would have been hell for those taken there where the air was thicker and barely any light reached. I tried to imagine what it would have felt like to be physically led into this dungeon packed with up to a thousand others in very little space. The dungeon was split into five different rooms and it was said that they would keep about 200+ people per room. We entered an extremely dark room that had only three small openings in a wall for ventilation and light. Our guide pointed out the floor, covered with brick, and areas where “gutters” were built for the waste of the captives who were kept there. Obviously, with two hundred plus men in the room at one time, they lived in their own feces and urine and vomit and blood for long periods of time, with little food and water, and barely any light. We were then led to other rooms and were once again directed to look at the floor, where we did not see the bricks, but rather just a thick layer of a dark substance and we were told that the first room we had seen was the only room they had excavated. What we were standing on had been years of build up of the feces and other bodily fluids they had to live in. I was blown away when our guide told us this in that I couldn’t even grasp in my mind how humans could treat other humans so inhumanely, in ways that one would not even treat animals. I was speechless and could not form a coherent thought to express my shock.

The heaviness of our first stop continued to build as we were guided through the rest of the castle. We were shown the “Door of No Return,” which was the last stop for captives before they were shipped off like material goods. The door holds so much weight because of its implications in that once they passed through the door, they knew that there would be no return journey and would not be seeing their homes or family ever again. To physically walk through the doors and see where captives were led to ships was an immensely intense experience that once again demonstrated to me the horror of what had occurred here. We ended our tour in the governor’s quarters that had windows all around where you could feel the sea breeze from all angles and one had to wonder at the ridiculous irony that while one could enjoy the view and breeze in these quarters, just below them, thousands of individuals suffered and no one cared because it was just a part of their business.

Although my own personal history as a Korean-American woman was not affected by the slave trade, throughout the tour, I felt a lump in my throat because it pained me to know what had happened here and the fact that humans had treated other humans in such a way. By dehumanizing the captives by forcing them to live in their own filth and “storing” them as if they were merchandise, those doing these things had to dehumanize themselves as well in order to prevent them from realizing the depth of damage they were inflicting on others. It boggles my mind that they conditioned themselves to be immune to seeing and probably hearing the captives suffering daily for years and not giving a second thought as to what they were doing.

The very last stop on our tour ended where we started where a plaque read, “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.”

 6/30/15

 It was day two of our trip to Cape Coast and we once again made our way to a slave castle. This time, we went towards Elmina/St. George’s castle built originally by the Portuguese. The heaviness of what I had seen and felt and discussed yesterday lingered in my mind, and I prepared myself for the tour of another slave castle.

Upon entering Elmina, we stood in a vast courtyard with high walls all around us, similar yet very different from Cape Coast castle. As we waited in the blistering sun for our tour to begin, a hoard of probably 4-5 year olds came barreling into the courtyard filling a once horrible place with purity and laughter. Each child had a beaming smile on his or her face as they ran around with each other. As we began our tour, we passed by this large group of beautiful children who, after seeing us, barreled towards us and hugged us all from every angle. Their smiling faces looked up to us with anticipation and excitement as they asked “how are you” again and again. We said our goodbyes and started our tour, which felt so much lighter despite the depth of hurt that had been inflicted in this place.

All in all, the tour felt much easier to swallow because of the fact that we had experienced Cape Coast just the day before and the children who had uplifted all of our spirits by filling the empty castle once filled with suffering with the purity of their laughter.

I mentioned earlier that I couldn’t fathom the fact that individuals were capable of treating others so terribly, but in reality, I can fathom it because we still see terrible treatments of people all over the world. Although the slave trade was an extreme in which the treatment of others transcended believable thought, some are still treated in ways that are completely unacceptable. At the end of both our tours, the guides mentioned that by sharing this information with us, it is intended to educate us and remind us of history and the knowledge to not repeat what was done in the past and make a better future for where we live now.

Sidney Ro

[lehighinaccra]

Cape Coast Castle

Never have I been to a place that has brought me so close to my ancestors and the pain that they have felt as Black People. The castle at Cape Coast had a long history, and it was evident from the paint chipping off the side of the white walls, the rusted cannons and cannonballs that were used to fend off European invaders, and the site of slave dungeons that led to the Door of No Return. 

It felt too real. I walked barefoot, as my ancestors did when that place became their dwelling. Step by step, I could feel the horror, shame, and presence of black bodies from hundreds of years ago, as if they were in the room with me. I could hear their screams, questioning why any human would put another through this agony, and why God let this be. I could feel the tears from my colleagues as they wept, just trying to fathom what Our People had to go through, but my emptiness of emotion would not allow me to shed tears with them.

A sea of darkness -- That is what these slaves, my ancestors, experienced. Black bodies, stuffed and cramped into a confined stone room with three small holes with light peaking through, for months at a time without being moved. Feces, urine, blood, sweat, tears, and death loomed throughout the room for months without being cleaned, and it accumulated so much over time, that even today, we were standing on its top layer. Then, transported thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean, to a wilderness, with which none had prior knowledge of. Half of the black bodies on those ships died, and were thrown into the deep waters, for sharks to feast on, or for the bottom floor to be their eternal resting place.

This castle was very difficult to be at, but I am glad that I went. This is the birthplace of our African-American history, where our ancestors were sent to The New World. This is taking it back to our roots as much as we could, to try to understand what our ancestors were feeling in this horrid place.

Miles Davis

July 30, 2015

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In Search of Sankofa

Today we traveled to Cape Coast Castle - a former British slave castle.

As I walk into the bone-white edifice, I first notice the floor. Cobble stones, cracked and crooked; I can’t help but see the blood. There of course is no longer any actual blood...but I can see it. I close my eyes and the echo of the chains and shackles dragging on the cement hurts my ears. I open my eyes and the first sign I encounter reads: Male Slave Dungeon. Placed right above the entrance to the darkest tunnel I’ve ever seen. It’s a slippery slope down into the pits of hell. 

I’m hesitant to walk in at first. So I lag behind the group a little bit. I’m thinking to myself: Is this really happening? Am I really here? I start to descend and it’s total blackness. It takes my eyes some time to adjust. We walk into a room at the end of the tunnel. Size: 5 yards x 10 yards. It’s claustrophobic. The guide tells us that 200 men unwillingly fit in this room. There are 4 other rooms like it. A total of 1000 men passed through these dungeons time and time again. The guide turns on one bulb at the entrance to the room. He brings our attention to the floor. I see gutters. The guide describes them as “latrines.” However, they were never cleaned out and as times passed they overflowed. Three hundred years later, after the “end” of the slave trade, this one particular room contained about one foot of feces and other human waste. It was excavated and we’re able to see the original stone floors, crooked...cracked...

As we walk into the adjacent room, the guide brings our attention to the floor, once again. He tells us to notice how the floor is different. This one is not of cobble stone but looks like black-brown solid stone with dents and potholes, if you will, here and there. This floor hasn’t been excavated. We stand on all the slaves left behind: feces, urine, vomit, blood...

I start to cry. A mix of emotions surge through me: rage, despair, resentment, sadness, a sense of inadequacy in not being able to change history, in particular the macabre history of this place. The guide goes on telling us that 1 out of every 4 men did not make it out of these dungeons alive. The dead were thrown into the ocean. 

My first encounter with the Atlantic on this side of the world was a peaceful one. But now, I cannot look out into the horizon without envisioning the terrifying sight of approaching ships. Now, I cannot help but think of the souls and the spirits that inhabit the water...the disintegrated bones turned to dust that caress my toes when I’m at the shore. The essence of ancestors neglected by many of my brothers and sisters in the Diaspora. 

All these thoughts rush through my head as I try to keep up with the group on the tour. We move onto the female slave dungeons. About 600 women were kept in tight quarters and in the same unsanitary conditions as the men. Many died of infections, especially since they didn’t have access to proper sanitary care during menstruation. I stood in the corner of one of the female dungeons as the group moved on. 

In silence, I heard the screams of the raped. In darkness, I see their beautiful faces. 

We arrive at The Door of No Return. The guide talks about how this would be the last time the slaves would see their homeland, for they were sure to never return. He placed emphasis on the fact that the conditions on the ships were far worse than those in the castle. I could barely digest the thought of that. 

On the outside, the sign above the door reads: Door of Return. The guide explains that members of the Diaspora returned with the exhumed skeletons of loved ones who died as slaves in the United States and brought them back through the door to be buried in Ghanaian soil, land from which they were stolen.

The tour ends at this plaque:

MAY THOSE WHO RETURN FIND THEIR ROOTS. 

I made it back to the motherland, above deck this time. I have returned to find my Sankofa. 

Karen Valerio June 29 2015 Elmina, Ghana sankofatraveler.tumblr.com

[lehighinaccra]

Notes from the first few days in Ghana

June 24, 2015

We had the Friday schedule today and will have the Wednesday schedule on Friday. The Shai Hills Reserve. Beautiful. Saw baboons, antelope, ostriches, and beautiful African landscape. We stopped in Prampram, dipped our toes in the other side of the Atlantic and conversed slightly with fisherman. Then we traveled through Tema, where my professor was born and raised.  We stopped to walk through a bustling Tema market, our first in here in Ghana. Better get used to them. Everyone is so welcoming and nice, honestly. Hostel has AC and a nice big bed for me. Ghanian food is incredible. We went to a fancy hotel (African Regents) for buffet dinner. I had fresh swordfish and red snapper cooked up for me. Delish. AND MANGO. Omg the fruit is incredible. But I have to be careful, can't drink any water including to brush my teeth. So some fruit is off limits for now. Anyway, I feel great and so so content. I am having the time of my life, honestly. Every conversation is just so great, I love sitting down for meals with this group and traveling in the van (which can be bumpy on some non-roads) with the students and professors. So conscious, interesting, and stimulating. Also just naturally getting along and getting close with everyone. Ugh, literally feel so lucky to have six weeks of this. Okay that's enough for now. 

(Just one of the many plates of food at the  buffet. Banku and fish soup on the left, swordfish and veggies on the right)

June 25, 2015

I need to get better about this. There is just so much happening in one day and I have been wiped out with the traveling and fast pace start. Breakfast was wonderful once again, the UK Mamma Traut style beans and toast, great conversation, and instant nesCafe coffee (weirdly has a great flavor). Loaded the van with Dr. Peterson, Prof. Essien, Jen, Karen, Miles, Sidney, Gabrielle, and the great driver George. We visited Ashesi University, which accepts about 10% of applicants, 100 out of 1000. We learned about cultural anthropology and what visuals and film can tell us about a culture, place and history, particularly in Ghana. It was located in a rural valley, with steep BUMPY roads to the school. The professor lecturing was the head of the Art and Sciences, funny how every school has this title and department. They were building the Department of Engineering which is great to hear. It is incredible to have this here in Ghana. Is this country is moving in the direction that Nkrumah wanted? Advancement. 

I was exhausted so I slept the whole way back. We missed the bontantical garden due to the rain. I slept for about two hours during the day. A Turkish dinner (why, don’t ask) and then we hit Laboda beach for the first time. It was quite a sight. The sky was huge. The people were slightly sketchy but very welcoming. We will come back. A perfect first night. Everything is good here. The feeling is different here. I feel that is why I have been having such pleasant, benevolent vibrations, thoughts, and emotions. Africa. It is beautiful and it is perfect. It is welcoming, and it feels like home for me too, even as a white woman of European descent. It is the roots of us all. Tomorrow should only hold more amazing times, celebration, and feelings. Me da se for everything already, sweet Ghana.

June 26, 2015

Another incredible day. We had a later start which was nice. I squeezed onto Karen’s lap as the four of us plus James Jr. made our way to the university in one car with a friend of Kwame’s driving. The university was beautiful. The University of Ghana received a significant amount of aid from the Chinese and the architecture proves it. It was built in 1947, before independence. I wonder what the classes were like then…

We visited the Kwame Nkrumah Complex, or the Institute of African Studies, which just meant so much to me. To be walking around the physical materialization of my major was a dream.

Then we had the lecture with Prof. Yitah who was amazing. She is so intelligent and well rounded. Her office resided in the English department building which was also a sight from the outside. Our sweating bodies took a break in the leather chairs as she handed out sweating bottles of cool water. Prof. Peterson introduced us and began to go into our personal, individual research. She was able to speak to all of us on all topics. My individual research topic is beginning to take more form as I learn more and more every day. It such a beautiful way to learn… by taking time, feeling the pieces, and living the research. I felt a high after our lecture, like I had been given fresh air after being in an oxygen-absent room. I wanted more and more. I want more lectures, I want to have more relationships with these professors here. There is so much to learn from them. Their words and ideas are rich like the mango here. I am so, so hungry.

Speaking of food, we had dinner at Chez Afrique again. It was a wonderful time just sitting, chatting, and enjoying the environment with my friends. I enjoyed spending dinner with the professors and Jen too, very much. I love our cohort.

Today we will head to the National Museum of Ghana and the Makola Market. Hopefully I will cop a few nice things and I do not need to hope for more intellectual stimulation, immense learning, and a wonderful time with my new friends. I do not need to hope for another day of pure joy and content. I am tired after last night but will pull through for the day.

June 27, 2015

Before the day began:  Today we will head to the National Museum of Ghana and the Makola Market. Hopefully I will cop a few nice things and I do not need to hope for more intellectual stimulation, immense learning, and wonderful times with my new friends. I do not need to hope for another day of pure joy and content. I am tired after last night but will pull through for the day.

National Museum of Ghana

Painting that blew my mind

A strange sight: young African girls in Western style clothing. The Basel Mission was responsible for their education.

The holy grail. Waiting an hour and a half at a fast food restaurant. 

Near the Makola Market 

Katerina Traut

[lehighinaccra]

Art Museum in Accra. Exhibits depicted the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade and the horrors of it centuries ago. 

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Beautiful campus at the University of Ghana. We had a discussion with Dr. Yitah, Head of the English Department, about the Kwame Nkrumah’s presidency, the image of White Jesus and it’s role in Ghanaian Christianity, the role of women in Ghanaian society, and the economics of the Slave trade

[lehighinaccra]

Arrival in Ghana: 6/28/15

After about fourteen hours of flight through Germany and then to Accra, our team finally descended from the plane into Ghana where the air is rich with moisture and the essence of its history. It took me a moment to really understand and absorb the fact that this six-week experience was about to begin, and my entire body was filled with excitement and anticipation for what was to come from this trip. Even just standing in a large almost empty lot where planes land, I felt an immense sense of wonder wash over me because I realized, “Wow, I’m here in Africa. This is real.”

Walking into the entrance of the airport, we were welcomed by a sign that said, “Akwaaba / Welcome to Ghana / Gateway to Africa” (akwaaba meaning ‘welcome’ in Twi). I think that for many of us, this solidified the reality of where we were physically and it was high tide for our brains to catch up.

We are truly blessed to have a professor who was born in Ghana leading us on our trip, and after exiting the airport, we were greeted by his warm smile and embrace and a welcome into his home country. As travelling goes, we arrived at our hostel exhausted, settled in for a bit, figured out our sleeping situations and went to dinner as a group. The restaurant was Chez Afrique, where we ate traditional Ghanaian food with entertaining and challenging conversations that were sure to be abundant throughout the trip.

One of the draws of staying at our particular hostel was the fact that it offered wifi and when we got here, the wifi was down and was down for about 3 days before we could access the Internet. Personally, being completely disconnected from the rest of the world was extremely refreshing in that I could take all the time I needed to center myself here in Ghana without the distractions of home that I had left behind only a couple days prior. I realized that being disconnected presented the opportunity to be truly present in what I was doing and my experiences here rather than worrying about when I could message a friend or post an awesome picture to instagram for all to see. Because of this disconnect, I found that I now feel at peace and content here in Ghana without worries of back home or the need to constantly stay connected. Personally, now that I feel settled and grounded, I am finally ready to accept all the beautiful things this beautiful country has to offer along with the breathtaking things we have already experienced including an awe-inspiring view from the hills of the Shai reserve in Greater Accra, the hustle and bustle of countless people selling goods for their livelihood in the Makola market, and the warm water on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean in Prampram.

Sidney Ro

boats at Prampram beach

view from the Shai Hills Reserve

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Dr. Frimpong gives students a tour after a short lecture on political cartoons, Ghanaian films, and obituary posters as a representation of the visual media presence in Ghana

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Old slave port in Prampram, Ghana. This stop was one of many on the Gold Coast when transporting slaves from Ghana to The New World