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Published: August 15th 2007
Condemned cell
The condemned cell at Elmina Castle. Slaves sent in here were left with no food, light or water. Every man sent in here died. As I write, 31 of 33 have been restored, thanks to you guys. Cheers - I am really grateful. Secondly, this is my first blog in a while written without Susan at my side. My brave young lass returned home in the wee hours of this morning from Accra, and now it's just me and Africa for the next two months, until I meet my next travelling companion. In a whirl of emotions as I write this, so excuse me if I don't make much sense.
We left Accra two weeks ago, after Suze had shaken off her malaria/chest-infection combo, and headed west to Cape Coast, the old British administrative centre of Ghana, and, more notoriously, the capital of the Transatlantic slave trade from the 1600s to the 1800s.
Now, for the uninitiated, a brief history of West African slavery. When the whities arrived, the Africans already had a system of slavery in place, usually involving captured
Prince
Prince, the son of a local restaurateur (there's a story in there itself, not to be told now), posing with his new soccer ball at Busua warriors from battles. The Europeans saw the slaves in Africa, and thought, 'Hey, we need cheap labour in our new colonies in the Americas, and we can't use the Incas/Aztecs/whoever because we've killed them all! These Africans are a hardy bunch, I'm sure they'd love to be shipped off to Brazil and the USA to work for nothing...'. So the Euros gave the coastal chiefs and slavetraders guns and cloth, and in exchange, they went into the jungles and plains to capture slaves for them. Upwards of 20 million - some say 30 million all up - Africans were ripped from their homelands between Senegal and Angola, and marched to the coastal forts for sale to the British, Dutch, Portuguese, Danes, French. The more slaves they bought, the more guns they sold to the traders, and the more guns they sold, the more tribal wars were fought, and the more wars, the more slaves - and so the ghastly cycle continued. Untold millions died during the journey on African soil. The rest were sold, imprisoned in the forts, and then stuffed into ships in the worst imaginable conditions. Around half - perhaps ten million - died during the voyage. The
Busua Beach
The stunning view down onto Busua Beach from the headland west of Butre rest were shoved into a new continent, away from their families, culture, religion, land, and made to work - hard. During the 300 or so years of the trade, the population of Africa was so decimated, that historians have calculated the population of Africa in 1900 was half what it would have been, without slavery. So, not humanity's proudest moment.
The slave trade has left its own peculiar human evidence in Africa, Europe and the Americas, most visibly in the millions of people of African descent - the Diaspora - living outside of Africa, and not by their own, or their ancestors', choice. Physical evidence is harder to come by, but the slave fortresses of Ghana are perhaps the starkest reminders of the brutality of the trade. It is profoundly moving to visit the surviving slave forts set up by the imperial powers, and see the vestiges of this history. Around Cape Coast, there are two - Cape Coast Castle (British) and Elmina Castle (Portuguese, then Dutch, then British). The Europeans used these forts as trading centres, and to protect their interests in West Africa, so they often fought over them among themselves. Slaves were held inside them in
Cape Coast sunset
The sun sets behind Cape Coast Castle terrible conditions, for months at a time, until it was time for them to walk through the 'Door of No Return', before boarding the boats that would take them to the large ships away from shore, and, eventually, the New World. Or ignominous burial at sea if they died during the trip.
The castles are UNESCO-listed now, and have been kept in great condition. Tour guides give moving accounts of what went on in these terrible places. We were in Cape Coast at the very end of PANAFEST, where diaspora Africans - usually Black Americans - visit the land of their ancestry to celebrate their roots. We had some mixed tour groups - Europeans, Africans, West Indians, Yanks - and the tours were a way of learning about the slave trade together, and understanding and forgiving the people - black and white - who profitted from it. However, the ugliness of the history did open up some wounds for people - one African guy, Togolese I think - after hearing about the crappy conditions of the dungeons, angrily stated, 'Whites are wicked!' Which, after what we had just seen, I was not really in a position to deny.
Soccer and slavery
Cape Coast locals play soccer on the beach, below the ramparts of Cape Coast Castle From hell on earth, we soon moved on to earthly paradise. After visiting Cape Coast, we did a very naughty thing, and decided to spend our last week together on the beach, doing absolutely nothing...except, maybe, for some sunbathing, reading, beer-drinking, and sleeping. We took a series of tro-tros - Ghanaian minibuses - to Butre Beach, an idyllic spot between Cape Coast and the Cote-d'Ivoire border. Apart from a small fishing village, and two kilometres of perfect white sand, and our relaxed, rasta-themed bungalow-style hotel, there wasn't much to Butre - but that was fine. We hung out with the guesthouse's pet monkey, ate our way through their Swedish-inflected (and delicious) seafood menu, and took long, relaxing walks along the beach and through the jungle. I won't bore you with any more of the details, suffice to say it was the perfect place to spend time after the trials and tribulations of the overland journey from Tangier.
One sad and sordid story to finish off with, which might give some insight into the difficult, complex place that is West Africa. Walking around central Accra yesterday, I saw what looked to be the body of a dead beggar lying on
Our House
Our cute little bungalow at Ellis Hideout, Butre Beach the pavement, metres from us. He was lying on his back, head tipped back, with snot and saliva dribbling from his opened mouth. On closer inspection, he turned out to be breathing, but he was in an awful way. Nobody was stopping or taking a blind bit of interest in him, but we decided to seek assistance. We asked some bystanders for help, and they laughed and said he was just an armed robber, we should leave him to die. Now, in his near-naked, barely-breathing state, this guy didn't look like an armed robber, he looked like a human in need of help. One man led us to the nearby fire station, where there was an ambulance service. We took the ambulance driver back to the man, and he took one look at hime before telling us, no, he couldn't put this guy in his ambulance, because he was just a robber, or a beggar, or mad. the real problem being, of course, that he had no money. We offered to pay for his transit to the hospital, but the ambulance guy said we would have to take full responsibility, paying for his treatement and registering him as well. However,
Dixcove
Fishing boats moored in the harbour of the fishing village of Dixcove, western Ghana even then he refused to take him, saying we should tell the police first, and they would take him to the police hosiptal. So we phoned the police. They hung up on Suze twice. We decided to walk to the cop station and get help there. On the way, we found a police officer, so we led him to the beggar. The cop said the man was mad, but admitted he needed help. So we walked to the station, where he asked his chief if they could take the ambulance to get him. The chief said no, and said we had to register our complaint. What complaint? We had just found a bloody dying man and we just wanted someone to get off their arse and help him! We were palmed off by the first officer, who sent us to another office to 'register our complaint'. This officer was more concerned with the prisoners playing up in the jail cell behind him, and sent a female officer out to speak with us. She refused to help, asking aggressively, 'is he dead?', which, even if he was, would have meant a public health issue they shoudl be dealing with. Anyway, in
Old British fort at Dixcove
View over Dixcove town from the old British fort the end, nobody helped us. We thought about putting him into a taxi and taking him to the hospital, but were told that no hospital would treat him anyway. He is not our relative, not our responsibility, we were told. Leave him. In the end, we did. the ambulance and four cops wouldn't lift a finger to help the guy. We left, Suze in tears, me marvelling at how a country that longs to be part of the developed world, and celebrates its history of 'freedom and justice', could leave a guy to die in the street. On the way home, we told our taxi driver what had happened. He sniffed, a tear in his eye, and said, 'We Africans are so selfish'. Not true at all. Life is certainly cheaper here, but the people are so generous and friendly, it doesn't make sense. It can be hard work on the emotions, this place.
And now - to where? Suze is in the air on her way to Oz, and I will head east, to Togo. One more week in West Africa and then...who knows?
Tom and Suze's Top Six of Ghana
1. Butre Beach. What a beach
Sunset at Butre
The sun sets over Butre Beach, Ghana should be - white sand, no piles of rubbish or hordes of defecating children (quite common on West African beaches), and even some sunshine and sea to boot.
2. The slave forts of Cape Coast. Stark reminders of the ugliest side of European colonialism.
3. Accra. Not a pretty city, and this only makes it into the list because of the fine dining, well-stocked supermarkets, and cheap phone calls home.
4. The doctors who treated Suze. And the people who helped us out, too. Gems, the lot of them.
5. Star beer. One of the better drops in this part of the world.
6. Red Red. My new favourite West African dish - the two reds are red beans, and plantains fried in palm oil. Greasy but tasty, especially with a piece of fried fish on top.
Tom and Suze's Bottom Four of Ghana
1.Malaria. No fun whatsoever, especially for Suze, who actually had it. Despite all of our precautions - mozzie repellent, nets over our beds, malaria pills, mozzie coils, she still got it. It is such a preventable disease, yet millions die in Africa from it each year. We were lucky that
Vultures...
Three vultures gather around a coconut on Butre Beach it only put our trip off-track for a week or two.
2. Tamale Teaching Hospital. Great doctors, crap resources.
3. Ghanaian restaurant service. If you don't have something on the menu, don't say, 'Yes please' when someone asks, 'Do you have this?'. And then, don't take forty minutes to inform them you don't have it. And then, don't take another forty minutes to cook up the alternate choice. There, I've got that off my chest.
4. Mad tro-tro drivers. These minibuses crash all the time. Overtaking at breakneck speed on blind corners doesn't help things.
***
Africa Country Count: 8
Ghana Overland Kilometre Count: 1220km
Africa Overland Kilometre Count: 16,985km
Next Country: Togo
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San
non-member comment
Wow
I like the way you write. It drew me in and rarely do I read through a travel blog having spent hours trying to work out our own (sniffandsnore). Hey, think you missed a part..... drop me a line when its done becuase I want to know the ending!!