I’ve been back in the United States a full week, and I’m still processing my sojourn to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
When people ask me about what I’ve dubbed as my “heritage trip,” I’ve said: amazing, awe, overwhelming, and grateful.
It was truly an eye-opening experience.
One that connected me to my ancestors in a deep and profound way. And, that made my book knowledge of my ancestral history and the transatlantic slave trade both woefully insufficient and very, very real.
This was particularly potent during our solemn time at the slave castles on Cape Coast where the guide reminded us (me) of this:
I was standing on the DNA of my ancestors.
A Journey into Darkness
We visited the Cape Coast Castle and the Elmina Castle. The latter was built in 1482 by the Portuguese; the former was built in 1653.
Descending into the dungeons of the slave castles is like stepping into a tangible shadow of history’s darkest hour. These dungeons, where my ancestors were once confined and brutalized, are stark, oppressive spaces that seem to swallow light and hope alike.
The air is heavy with an almost palpable sense of sorrow and despair. The low ceilings and narrow confines create an atmosphere of intense claustrophobia, a stark contrast to the vastness of the sea just outside the castle walls.
The stone walls, cold and unyielding, are stained with the memories of the countless lives that passed through them.
The floors are uneven and littered with remnants of human suffering. After all, it is where they slept, ate, and defecated.
Their only light came from small, barred windows high above, allowing a sliver of daylight to pierce the gloom, yet offering no solace to those who were trapped within.
The smell is dank and musty, a lingering reminder of the inadequate ventilation and the sheer number of people who were crammed into these tight spaces.
There were no comforts and no provisions for the basic needs of the human beings held.
Ultimately, they were deprived of their dignity.
For a moment, use your mind’s-eye to imagine hundreds of men, women, and children, shackled together – but in separate dungeons. Because husbands and wives were separated, as were parents from their children.
Imagine being forced to live in a confined space, hundreds to a room, for up to three months. And this is after possibly being captured in another region of Africa and forced to travel for several months before even reaching the castles.
Imagine the sounds of their suffering, their cries, their whispers of despair, wafting through the dungeons, as a constant reminder of their dire and unimaginable conditions. And frequently as the penalty for resisting and fighting back.
I was so overwhelmed with emotion, of seeing where and how cruelly my ancestors were treated, I wanted to cry. But the tears wouldn’t come.
Standing in these dungeons, I felt a profound connection to my ancestors’ pain. As well as to their resolve and strength.
You are reading my words because someone in my ancestral line survived those atrocities.
An Odd Sense of Power
We were asked to wear white the day of our visit. And because my dress was more sheer than I thought was respectful, I wore an outfit underneath. This meant I was sweating profusely in the dungeons – (remember: little ventilation).
At some point, I remember saying to myself, “you better not complain.”
My discomfort was temporary. I would soon get back onto an air-conditioned bus. Return to a clean and safe hotel, where I’d have the ability to shower and change into fresh clothes.
Reflecting on the weight of my ancestors’ suffering and their lack of agency, and the profound contrast of that to the agency I have today to make a plethora of choices, is yet another example of the duality of life.
Visiting the castles is a testament to holding two truths, simultaneously: sadness and an odd sense of power.
It is because of the indomitable spirit of my ancestors that has allowed their descendants, like myself, to create our own stories and stand in our own power.
To make choices. Like returning to our “homeland.”
To question…everything! From those in “power” to what makes a developing country – “developing.”
What’s in a Label?
Ghana is considered a developing country.
During this trip, though, I began to wonder:
What does it mean for a country to be labeled as “developing”?
So, I went to Google and ChatGPT… 🙂
According to the UN, a “developing country “ is [one] with a relatively low standard of living, undeveloped industrial base, and moderate to low Human Development Index (HDI). This index is a comparative measure of poverty, literacy, education, life expectancy, and other factors for countries worldwide.
In other words, it is a country that is on the path toward economic growth and improved living standards, but has not yet reached the level of prosperity and stability found in developed countries.
Personally, I find these definitions and descriptions academic, misleading, and overly simplistic.
Here’s why:
A developing country is not starting from nothing.
Including Ghana.
It is a country rich in natural resources like gold, cocoa, and oil. The Portuguese went there in the 14th century because of the gold. That is when the country was referred to as the “Gold Coast.”
Countries, other than Portugal, also wanted access to these resources and also colonized Ghana: the Dutch, Swedes, Denmark-Norway, Germany, and the British.
And since Ghana didn’t gain its independence until 1957, it seems delinquent to call it a “developing country” if you call it such whilst overlooking the historical and external factors that contribute to its current state.
You must consider the lasting impact of colonialism and how this disrupted the natural development and created economic dependencies on countries like Ghana. The holds of which are still being contended with today.
As I reflect on my trip, I now see the term “developing” in a new light. Ghana has shown me that “developed” countries aren’t necessarily more advanced than those often described as “developing.”
The latter has natural resources, talent, and a deep wealth of knowledge that only “insiders” would have about what their country and citizens need and want.
My trip also highlighted how “developing” is not just about economic growth or infrastructural advancements (like improved roads).
It is also about the journey of a nation and its people toward realizing their own vision of prosperity.
It is about the continuous effort to overcome obstacles and to create opportunities for future generations.
All the things Ghana has been doing since gaining its independence.
Sure, it has its challenges with poverty, wealth disparity, healthcare and education. Sure, it is dealing with infrastructure deficits. But what country isn’t?
From the perspective of a developed nation, a country like Ghana may seem to have a long way to go.
Yet, from what I saw and experienced, there is a palpable sense of progress and hope. There is a recognition of the potential that lies in its people and its resources.
There’s a saying, “I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.”
After my trip, this has taken on even more depth for me.
Every day I hope I am making choices and using my power in ways that make my ancestors proud. Especially my mommy.
