On Saturday I conquered three fears in a single day: heights, crocodiles and claustrophobia.

I started my morning off by riding along an extremely bumpy, pothole-filled road for about an hour, which eventually led me to a jungle that I was forced to admire from about 100 feet above ground.

Before 9 a.m. I found myself crossing over seven relatively long, uncomfortably narrow, unsettlingly wobbly and intimidatingly elevated canopy walkways. Did I already mention that I’m afraid of heights? Because I wouldn’t necessarily use the word “afraid”—it’s more like terrified.

Before taking what could have been my last steps on earth (in my mind at least), I reminded myself that I only live once, and I already promised to seize every opportunity that came my way during my time in Ghana. With that in mind, I took several deep breaths, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to cautiously walk on to the uneven wooden planks that would eventually lead me back to solid ground.

With the support of my Media in Ghana housemates combined with the help of several breathing exercises, I crossed the last canopy walkway and made it back to safety in less than 45 minutes. Little did I know that was the first of many times my mind and body would be put to the test that day.

After we left the jungle I was under the impression that our next stop was Cape Coast Castle. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I arrived at a crocodile habitat.

After exploring the area for several minutes and not spotting a single croc, I was beginning to think the habitat was a hoax. However, within a matter of minutes I was proven to be exceptionally wrong.

A beautiful middle-aged woman nicknamed “the crocodile lady” eventually appeared before us with a large bowl of raw chicken and told us to follow her lead: We followed her through a locked, metal gate that led us face to face with a medium-sized crocodile.

“Go ahead and touch it, he is distracted by food,” she said. “But make sure you walk up behind it, and be sure to avoid the face.”

Personally, I thought she was insane, but after watching her and several other students tiptoe behind the crocodile and grab its tail for a photo opp., I convinced myself to do the same. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” I thought. Almost immediately after that, however, I decided my mind shouldn’t wander there.

Touching a crocodile wasn’t as frightening as I thought it would be, that is, until it was.

I felt relatively safe with “the crocodile lady” by my side, but like most happenings in life, all good things must come to an end eventually. After spending nearly 10 minutes on a secluded area of land surrounded by murky brown water, several Media in Ghana family members began noticing crocodiles surrounding our group.

After spinning 360 degrees and counting four crocs within a 10-foot radius, and noticing nothing was separating us except for a few feet of land, I started feeling uncomfortably anxious. Consequently, I decided to remove myself from the situation. I proved to have immaculate timing because not 30 seconds after crossing the gate to safety, I heard several familiar screams and turned around to see 14 UO students running toward the gate to safety at the same time. Apparently, a relatively large croc decided to quickly charge the smaller crocodile that all of my group members were taking pictures with. How’s that for adventure?

Our last stop of the day was Cape Coast Castle, which was owned and operated by the British during the African slave trade and occupied by the British until Ghana gained its independence on March 6, 1957.

I learned a lot of horrifying details regarding the treatment of slaves during my tour of the castle. I felt extremely angry and sick to my stomach while trying to understand some of the injustices that took place against the slaves for over 400 years.

During my tour, I stepped foot into several dungeons where both male and female slaves were kept before they either died or were shipped to Europe or the Americas.

The hardest part of the tour, however, was being closed into the small, unventilated cell that male slaves were brought to suffocate and die. Although I acknowledge I am claustrophobic, I was only in the cell for less than five minutes before I found myself having a mild panic attack and nearly begging to be let out. The air was so thick in the cell that I thought I was going to pass out after a few short minutes—I can’t even imagine how the Africans must have felt.

The only positive part about my experience at Cape Coast Castle was that I could now share with others the horrible wrongs that were committed against millions and millions of people not long ago, historically speaking.

This past weekend was overwhelming to say the least: I conquered several fears, learned a significant amount about African history and grew as a person in a period of one long day. My only hope is that more and more people can grow from similar experiences.