This old drawing doesn't show the the Gold Coast in Australia, Long Island or Florida. It depicts Cape Coast Castle on the Gold Coast in Ghana. The gold that gave its name to the Ghanaian coastline wasn’t only the shiny metal from the African hinterland. After the establishment of plantations in the New World it was the money earned from the trade in slaves who supplied the labor that made the plantations of coffee and sugar cane so obscenely profitable.
Ghana hosts two UNESCO World
Heritage Sites memorializing this horrific past, Cape Coast Castle and St
George’s Castle in Elmina. Our visit to Ghana was a chance to see them. The route led us from the dock in Takoradi, piled high with manganese to be shipped to China, along the coastal road lined with a seemingly endless landscape of tiny shops and stands.
The shops were proof that despite evident poverty the spirit of enterprise was alive and well but this time led by locals, not foreign invaders. Set between flame trees and ancient crumbling Portuguese buildings the miles of shipping containers and shacks offered services of every kind. The names painted above the shop doors simply begged us to enter: God is Able Hardware, By the Grace Phone Repairs, Love of Jesus Restaurant, Adam Food Joint, Humble Works Furniture and God First Vulcanizing. Even the battered Surely Goodness and Mercy ambulance awaited business by the roadside – not for us I prayed.
We crossed the parade ground to
look at the remaining canons that still overlook the coast and to visit the room used as
a chapel where the masters gave thanks on Sunday for their profits, as the source of that wealth - the captives -
struggled to survive in the slave pens below. These dungeons held up to a
thousand men and five hundred women at a time with no light or sanitation
for up to twelve weeks as they awaited their
walk through the Gate of No Return and shipment to the New World or, more likely, death on
board a slave ship. It was beyond horrifying. I could not, did not want to, imagine how anyone
could survive in such conditions.
When we walked through the infamous
Gate, the same green and white surf was still evident. But instead of slave
ships a brilliant scene of red, blue, yellow or green striped fishing boats
drawn up on the beach delighted our eyes. Seemingly heedless of the past,
fishermen dried and mended their nets and women gathered the catch to take to
market.
Despite this attractive scene we were lost in contemplation of the mindless cruelty always present in human existence.
Unfortunately it is much easier to look at the colorful fishing boats in the nearby port and the lovely flame trees than it is to examine one's soul.
Lest we forget.
Drawings of Cape Coast and St. George's Castles courtesy of hitchock.itc.virginia.edu. Photos by author.
It makes me sick to think of what those poor people went through. :-( Oh how sad they must have been, how helpless and lost and abandoned they must've felt. I'm so very, very glad that the slave ships are gone now, and those lovely cheery fishing boats are in their place. :-)
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