The Perfect Weekend

After sitting in a un-air conditioned bus for almost three hours, I was half asleep, listening to Black Eyed Peas (not ashamed) and looking forward to a weekend in Cape Coast and Elmina. Then, we heard an earsplitting crack shook the entire vehicle, it sounded a bomb went off under the bus. We began tipping sideways and the sound of scraping metal was endlessly ringing in our heads. The bus driver did not even flinch, while us 18 abrunipassengers nearly jumped out of our seats. After about 15 seconds taking control and slowing down, we were finally able to pull onto the side of the highway.

We had a flat tire—or rather an exploded tire. We stayed at the side of the road for about two hours, waiting for cabs and a bus from our hotel while singing R&B and Disney throwbacks on the parked bus. Our saint of a driver stayed with the bus long after, waiting for a new tire.

When we finally made it to Coconut Grove Beach Resort cranky and dehydrated, our moods were quickly transformed—our hotel was beautiful. It of course had its Ghanaian quirks—donkeys appearing randomly in the courtyard, pizza that wasn’t quite pizza, and iceless drinks, but it was absolutely paradise. The rooms were gorgeous and AIR CONDITIONED, the bar served delectable pina coladas with fresh pineapple and coconut juices, and the waves crashed just a few yards away from us as we ate dinner or slept in our fluffy beds. We heard there were hot showers and were unable to figure it out the first night, but we appreciated the possibility so much that we didn’t even care. After a late afternoon at the pool, a seafood dinner, and a bonfire on the beach, we went to sleep.

Coconut Grove Beach Resort Coconut Grove Beach Resort

Bright and early on Saturday morning, we were headed to a tourist-y bridge walk above the tropical forest canopy when the whole busted tire incident happened again. We were somehow still able to drive on it, so our program director changed around the itinerary. Instead, we went to Elmina Castle for a tour. Built by the Portuguese in the 1482, it was originally used as a trading center for guns, gunpowder, gold, and other commodities until it began being used to hold captured Africans during the Transatlantic Slave Trade. This continued when it was taken over by the Dutch in 1637. The building is gigantic—the largest European structure in West Africa—and is by far the oldest landmark I have ever stepped foot on. It was also beautiful, but it was hard to appreciate the French doors, black shutters, ocean views, and aged white walls when you think of the dungeons tucked below and feel the tragic energy that the building seems to radiate.

Elmina Castle

Elmina Castle Elmina Castle

One room in particular gave me the chills; it was the governor’s quarters—a three room, breezy area that overlooked the entire castle grounds. It also had a balcony that overlooked the slave women’s courtyard. Whenever he pleased, the governor would stand there and choose a woman to rape. There was a specific staircase she would climb that led straight to his bedroom. Women who refused to comply were chained to canon balls for days on end in the blistering heat—they still sit rusted in the yard.

We also went to the Cape Coast Castle, which is a 20-minute drive from Elmina. All of the three major slave castles involved the Transatlantic Slave Trade are in Ghana, but the Cape Coast Castle was the only one built specifically to hold slaves. The British began its construction in 1653. The place was truly horrifying.

Cape Coast Castle Canons at the Cape Coast Caslte

We were taken into a cell called the condemnation room, which was created for slaves who tried to escape or free a friend or family member. It was a tiny cement cell with no windows, and those sent in were not given any food or water. Not a single person who went into the cell came out. It was impossible to last more than three days inside because of the extreme heat and absence of oxygen. Our tour guide gathered us in it and closed the door, leaving us in pitch-black darkness. The air was thick and heavy—making the original price of attempting freedom was unimaginably torturous.

Next, we went to the men’s dungeon, which held 1,000 slaves, and the women’s dungeons, which held 300. The rooms had no light or ventilation besides two or three (depending on the dungeon) 1×2 foot windows at the top of the high walls, which left the room nearly completely dark. The people were put in the dungeons for two months without being let out before being put on a boat straight to the Caribbean or the United States—this process was to weed out the weak and discipline the strong—but the conditions were atrocious. In the 1970s, an excavation team came in and removed the hundreds of years-old layers of feces, urine, corpses, blood, et cetera, that had never been washed or removed. The line that marked where they began removing the filth was up to my thigh. You could still smell it.

The tunnels that led from the dungeons to the famous “Door of No Return” were sealed when slavery was abolished in England. I had learned about the “Door of No Return” in history classes and of course had watched the Obamas looking through it during their visit to Ghana (Michelle traced her routes back to the Cape Coast Castle) but there was nothing like seeing it in person. As our tour guide, Matilda, opened the doors to what was once a three-month journey of abuse, disease, and death across the Atlantic, we instead got a view of positivity. The fishing village below was bustling with Ghanaians going about their day, the bright boats painted every color of the rainbow. On the other side of the “Door of No Return” it reads “The Door of Return.” Matilda explained that the door now represents the coming back to Africa for those whose ancestors were captured and enslaved in the Americas, and even for those whose ancestors were committing the crimes against humanity during slavery. “Black and white should now live in unity,” she explained, and went on to say that the door represents learning from the past so it is not repeated. It was moving, especially after such a heavy tour, and reminded me of why I want to be a journalist in the first place.

View Outside from the “Door of No Return” “Door of Return” Just Feet Away from the “Door of No Return”/”Door of Return”

The council of West African chiefs, accepting responsibility for their predecessors’ instrumental part in selling their people into slavery, donated a plaque in remembrance that shook us all. It reads:

In Everlasting Memory

Of the anguish of our ancestors

May those who died rest in peace

May those who return find their roots

May humanity never again perpetrate

Such injustice against humanity

We, the living, vow to uphold this

Chief’s Plaque

As we quietly walked down from the Elmina Castle and into the village, our energy was lifted by the spirits of the little kids yelling, “Bruni! Bruni!” We stopped to talk to a lot of them. Casey, Alexa, Gabby, and I got distracted and went down to the beach where the countless boats were. A group of about 30 men were in their underwear or shorts strategically moving the boat from the water to the shore. About 20 of them were on the sand, pulling ropes attached to the boat, about 10 were in the water, pushing with their backs and legs, and about three were in the middle, facilitating a rolling metal cylinder below the boat (I almost had a heart attack it looked so dangerous). We were watching curiously and they sang and chanted, pushing or pulling depending on the line in the beat or song.

Fishermen at Elmina Beach Making Friends on Elmina Beach

We went up to take photos of the guys in front, upon request, and decided to join in. We weren’t much help, but they all loved it and I even got a big kiss on the cheek from one of them.

After getting pretty sandy, we went to meet the rest of the group and to wait for our repaired bus. I befriended a few toddlers with a game of peek-a-boo then three little girls came up, balancing huge bowls on their head. One asked me to buy bags of water, but I knew if I bought from one I would have to buy from all of them, so I ended up giving them each one of my earrings instead (I knew getting five ear piercings was a good idea). They were very excited, and soon we were exchanging stories and I was teaching them how to use my GoPro. Their elders came up as well and began chatting with me; one man translated for a woman who wanted to tell me that we were now friends.

Toddlers Little Girls

Spencer came up and got a lesson in head balancing, which was wildly unsuccessful, but the women loved it. When it was time to go, the three little girls I befriended asked me if they would ever see me again, I told them I hoped so and we exchanged goodbyes about a dozen times before they followed me almost all the way out of the village. I will never forget their sweet faces (especially because I have their selfies saved from my GoPro).

Spencer’s Balancing Lesson Comfort’s First Selfie

After getting back to the hotel, we escaped from the heat at the pool once again and ate another incredible dinner. Later on, I was talking on the phone in my pajamas when we decided to go for a night swim. Can I stay here forever?