Strength of a Warrior

Today I visited Kakum National Park and both the Cape Coast and Elmina Slave Castles.  It was very interesting to walk in the steps of the Obamas just days after their visit.

July 19, 2009

I thought I would be most effected by the spirits of the people who died while captured inside of the Slave Castles when in fact I was most effected by the spirits of those who survived. I wonder what sort of strength my ancestors had.. what sort of power and will is running through my veins. If only 1 out of 3 Africans survived living months inside these torture chambers and even less survived the middle passage.. I am astounded by the amount of strength my ancestors had in the sheer will to survive. I think of who this woman might have been..

Perhaps she was about my age. She would have been separated from her family and friends while captured as a prisoner of war and kidnapped by African slave traders. I cannot fathom how Africans could trade the lives of their fellow brothers and sisters to the Engli

sh, Dutch and Portuguese for things such as liquor and jewels. Perhaps this is what colonialism does to a person.. Makes luxury and wealth more important than human lives. But isn't this exactly what still happens today?

I wonder what this woman would have looked like. If she had been beautiful she would have most likely been raped by kidnappers and guards along the way. If not, her opportunity might have come when the general requested for all the female slaves to be brought out into the center of the castle to choose one as his concubine. He would peer down at them from his platform and pick which one he wanted.. kind of liking choosing cattle for slaughter. The guards would then seize her. 

Water would be drawn from a well and she would be washed in preparation for him. 

If she refused, she would be beaten, starved or killed. Once broken, she would ascend the long spiral staircase up to the General's quarters where he would have her way with her. When he was done, it would be the guards' turn.

The slave women would be separated and shackled together in groups of at least five. Buckets were placed at either side of the dungeon which is pitch black and holds several hundred women at a time. These buckets were intended for relieving oneself meaning if one person had to go.. all those shackled to her must go as well. After time, the body becomes too weak to move and everyone begins to use the relieve themselves on the floor. The smell must have been horrific.. The dungeon floor would have been covered with urine, feces, and vomit. There would have been no air. If a woman has become pregnant she would have to give birth to her child on that floor while still shackled to those around her.

Men and women were separated from capture. I wonder if this young woman had a husband. If so, she would most likely never see him again, alive. If so, it would be at the door of no return and only then for a brief moment. I wonder how he would have reacted when her cries were heard. Perhaps he had a child that he would never see. I imagine her giving birth and having her child ripped from her breast as soon as she could give him a name. I wonder what kind of strength can survive all of this.

I rubbed my hands across the stone walls of the female dungeon and for a second I could almost hear those women crying. Tears fall down my face and I feel completely weak and helpless. I weep for those women.. Those who died.. Those who survived and all of those men who could do Nothing.

I felt almost infantile today.. and broken. My sickness has made me very weak in my body and in my spirit. Whenever I walk down the stairs there is a man to offer his hand as if my legs are going to break in two. I get so angry with myself especially when looking at the Ghanaian woman who carries 75lbs of firewood on her head while her baby is strapped to her back. These slave women had the strength and the will to survive through famine, rape, sickness, loss and every other horrible thing you could imagine. They must have kept their mind on survival while both those chained to the left and right of them were dead. They would have seen their sons murdered before their very eyes.. (how many women still witness this today??) and serve as powerless bystanders of the emasculation of their men. The Ghanaian Man is the provider for and leader of his family.. (more on him later). He is not deficient by human nature.. He was made that way!

I have realized that this trip is about finding my strength.. Finding the strength of a Warrior.. better yet.. the strength of a Queen.