By: Melina Mallari
There is so much I could say about our first weekend. We stayed at a beautiful (although sticky) beach resort in Cape Coast. We got our first taste of nightlife in a partying city. We supported a local non-profit called the Baobab House by eating their delicious food. But I believe what was most impactful for everyone was visiting the two slave castles: Elmina and Cape Coast. There was a deep heaviness inside these places you could not shake no matter where you walked. Allowing Ato, our guide, to suck us into the pain and fear that these souls experienced through his gripping storytelling gave us a moment to imagine a mere sliver of the reality they faced.
We had our moment to reflect on this experience together after our visits, and it was an eye-opening but painful conversation. Listening to the individual impact this had on everyone offered some insight into how our backgrounds shaped our experiences in the castles. As journalists, many of us saw it as an opportunity to tell the story of those captured and enslaved in hopes of educating more people. For others, these castles were made even more significant as bearers of their family history. As for me, I was struck by the physical remnants that hundreds-year-old torture left behind, and I also felt a duty to share what I saw with others. Yet, what I keep thinking back to most often is the stark (and complicated) contrast between what was going on inside Elmina Castle and what we got to witness just outside of it.
During the tour, we could hear loud music and men talking over loudspeakers. It was hard to ignore, and I know some of us even felt somewhat bothered by the interruption. But when Ato led us out to the castle’s balcony that overlooked the town toward the end of the tour, it was an otherwordly experience.
When making my presentation during our Spring term class about Ghanaian culture, traditions, and language, I did some research on national festivals. Of the few that I wrote about, the Bakatue Festival was the most interesting. Directly translating to “draining of the lagoon” (which is adjacent to the castle) as a celebration of the start to the fishing season in Elmina, this colorful festival brings the entire community together to give food offerings, join in canoe races, and perform spiritual dances. While the festival originally celebrated the founding of the town by the Portuguese (who at one point owned Elmina Castle), the community has reclaimed and made its meaning their own. This annual Bakatue Festival was the source of the noise we heard outside, and upon walking onto the balcony, we saw scores of people in garments of all colors walking through the streets. Chiefs in ornate palanquins were hoisted high above the crowd, waving to those who sang and danced their way to the lot in front of the castle. The music from drums and brass instruments rang through the air, and we all wiped our tears from the moments before to watch the spectacle.
While I can’t assume how local Ghanaians feel about celebrating in this space, I’d love to believe that through the festival, they have reclaimed this space too. What rests within the castle is hundreds of years of torture, isolation, and fear. But outside of it is proof of the community’s permanence within this town and their ability to transform the area surrounding the castle into a place of high sprits in just a day. I keep thinking back in awe and admiration at this experience, and although we still continued the tour with heavy hearts, mine felt a bit lighter knowing there was so much joy and color just outside those walls.
