February 16, 2012
FDP for Anthropology of the Ocean—Castles and Slave Dungeons
The Ocean was not always seen as a beautiful place and in some cultures it is still not seen as something peaceful and serene. It is a medium for trade and enslavement. Cowrie shells were circulated as money and slaves were sold for them. The money went from white to black and never made it back to the black from the white. Once it was in the black's hands it was considered useless. Once slavery was abolished, cowrie shells were deemed illegal but no similar effort was enacted in the west with the dollar and similar currencies. Watery metaphors for money—it does not flow by itself. The local name of the cowrie shell is cedai, that's how they get the name of Cedi for their money.
Elmina Castle
Portugueseà Dutchà English
"Until the lion has a historian, the hunter will always be the hero."
Me: "Does it upset the locals to see us touring the castle?"
Tour Guide: "Yes, some cannot even go inside and others get very upset when tourists come to see it. It is a sad part of Ghanian history"
Saying 'can you take a picture of me' has felt awkward times, but asking while in a graveyard felt like I was demeaning the history associated with what actually proved to be a beautiful place. Would I take pictures in the hospital my grandmother died in? Is it because during this voyage I'm identifying myself as a tourist and student that this is okay? My ancestors did not own slaves and as far as I know, we were not a direct cause of the enslavement of Africans throughout the Americas. I don't feel responsible, but I know I am just by being an American. A white American. Maybe that's why the Africans stare at me. Did any Africans ever come to America willingly? One woman was African American in my group. How did her reaction of the castles different from mine? After the slave trade, how many Africans were left?
I asked where they put the people that died and he began to explain where the governors were buried. I did not want to know about them; they felt like the enemies as I walked around the dungeon. The slaves that died before they made it out of the dungeon (most were there for about 2-4 months) were sent out to the ocean and sunk to the bottom. The ocean was increasingly feeling like more of a graveyard.
Walking around the castle made me feel very uncomfortable. The rooms should only hold about 40 people 'comfortably' but they were crammed over 150 slaves inside. The rooms used to be storage rooms for gold and ivory. These people were viewed as commodities; goods. They were living in their pee, blood, and feces with only a small hole for ventilation as their source of sanity. When someone died, they did not immediately remove her but instead kept her there until removal was necessary. They were fed only the amount needed to survive so they didn't have the energy to try to escape.
The women slaves were stored 3 floors down from the governor's bedroom. Since the governor never traveled with his wife, he would choose women slaves to rape. They were considered the chosen ones. After they raped the women, they were sent back to the dungeon. If they became pregnant, once they birthed the child the governor moved to a home specifically for the mistresses and their children. These mulatto children became guards of the slaves. Many of the men that worked in the castle had children with the slave women—sometimes as many as 14 at a time.
Cape Coast Castle
Over 1,000 men and 300 women were stored in the dungeon at one time. The people in these rooms were dehumanized. There are 77 shrines around the property remembering the slaves that died. One of the shrines is from Michelle Obama when she visited the castle in 2009. They have a plaque remembering her visit.
The smells of slavery still linger. The ocean is heard from inside the dungeons as a warning of what awaits the slaves. The pathway to the door of no return has been closed to signify the end of slavery. Both men and women crossed through the door of no return that now reads from the other side 'the door of return'.
Cape Coast castle served as a slave trading post for over 200 years. Even though more slaves passed through this castle, I was not as impressed Maybe I was already numb.
I have felt like an outsider many times in Ghana, but today I was an intruder. This was their culture and horrifying history, why should the Africans have to showcase it to me? It's not mine to know, it's theirs. The two buses driving us to Cape Coast had a police escort. Why did we, as Americans, need this service? We're not any more special than the local African. It did make me feel a little funny but also safer, even though it attracted more attention to our already obvious large charter bus filled with white students.
The Ghanian police drive in large, blue tanks. 4-5 officers dressed in blue army print ride on the top with helmets similar to those I would wear for a costume. Two more officers were poised in the front with large rifles. They invoked fear, but waved to us as we drove by. They have a camera in the cockpit that made me wonder if it's not just the officers watching but also someone higher in charge.
I asked how they get all of the coconuts to sell. The locals climb up the large (over 30 feet) palm trees to get the fresh coconuts I ate at the market the other day. I definitely won't be letting the gardeners steal my coconuts anymore.
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