[By Nishat Parvez]
Content Warning: the following blog post discusses topics related to sexual assault
Last weekend, we embarked on a journey to Elmina Castle and Cape Coast Castle in Cape Coast, 142.3 km from Accra. We set off early on Friday morning from our apartment. The road to Cape Coast is notorious for its poor conditions, with numerous bumps and heavy traffic, making the journey quite challenging. Nearly three hours later, we arrived at Elmina Castle. A slave castle is a fortification where enslaved Africans were held, tortured, and traded before being shipped across the Atlantic to the Americas, serving as a poignant reminder of the brutal history of the transatlantic slave trade.
The weather was overcast, and as the skies grew gloomier, so did my mood. We were greeted by our guide, Auto, an expert on Elmina and Cape Coast Castle, who even authored a book on the subject.
As we entered the dark, humid slave dungeons, memories from my history lessons came flooding back. Being South Asian, my historical education primarily covered Asia and Europe, with little focus on other continents. I recalled how Africa was referred to as “The Dark Continent” in my textbooks, a term I naively thought meant the sun never rose there. Only later did I understand that this label was a product of European colonialists’ ignorance and stereotypes.
Inside the dungeons, with scarce light or air, I felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation. There was a hole in the ceiling for officers to shoot the prisoners in case of any disturbances. The conditions were deplorable—no sanitation facilities, starvation rampant. Auto explained, “Surviving in this dungeon was only the beginning; their true ordeal started when they passed through the passage to the sea, where they were loaded onto ships for The Transatlantic Slave Trade to Europe and the Americas.”
I researched the ships and found images of people crammed into the smallest spaces, shackled, forced to live in their own filth. I pondered if it was possible to file a human rights violation case against those responsible for these atrocities, even though they occurred centuries ago.
Walking through the female slave dungeon brought me to tears. It was heartbreaking learning about the women and children who suffered without food, water, or basic hygiene, then they were brutally raped by the governors. Before facing the governor, these women were given showers to make themselves clean and food to regain some strength.
The horror of their plight reminded me of the Bangladeshi Liberation War, where between 200,000 to 400,000 women were raped by the Pakistani Army and their collaborators in 1971. I recall a harrowing quote from The Guardian (2023): “We lay there like corpses, side by side. There were 20, maybe 30, of us confined to one room,” one survivor tearfully recalls. “The only time we saw daylight was when the door creaked open and the soldiers marched in. Then the raping would begin.”
My uncle is a veteran of the Liberation War, and both sides of my family lived in constant fear during that time. Our homes were attacked, family members killed, and raped. My mother was born during the war, carrying the trauma inherited from her mother, which has now passed down to me. This generational trauma resonates deeply, and I empathize with the Ghanaian people.
The trauma of riots between Hindus and Muslims during the Partition of 1947 also left scars on my family. Although I can’t recall all the stories my grandmothers told, these painful memories are shared by many Bangladeshi families. Similarly, I fear that the trauma of the atrocities committed at Elmina and (later visited) Cape Coast Castles still lives on with the Ghanaian people, haunting their collective memory.
Later, we visited the condemned cell. It was an intense experience. As Auto closed the door, I suddenly felt claustrophobic. In stark contrast, the cell for the drunken colonizer soldiers was well-ventilated and lit, reflecting the stark inequality and inhumanity of the colonial system. The soldiers’ cell, with its ample light and air, highlighted the privileges afforded to the oppressors even in confinement, while the condemned cell epitomized the brutal and dehumanizing conditions imposed on the enslaved Africans.
We then explored the governor’s room and other parts of the castle, which offered stunning views of the seashore and Elmina town. The juxtaposition of such beauty with the castle’s brutal history below was jarring. Elmina Castle was built by the Portuguese in 1482 for the gold trade and later used for The Transatlantic Slave Trade. Elmina Castle passed through Dutch and British hands before Ghana’s independence, after which it became a police training school and later a museum.
The following day, we left our beautiful resort near the Gulf of Guinea for Cape Coast Castle. Similar in design to Elmina but smaller, this castle was constructed by the Swedes and later used by the Danes, Dutch, and British. It was one of the most formidable castles of its time, bristling with cannons. Now a museum, it was famously visited by former U.S. President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama. Our tour concluded at the “Door of Return” and the “Door of No Return.” The latter was for those who left the castle as slaves, never to return, while the former invites people worldwide to come back to Ghana and declare “never again.” The “Door of Return” was created as a symbol of healing and reconciliation, an invitation for the descendants of those who were forcibly taken to return to their ancestral homeland. This powerful symbol is a testament to the resilience and enduring spirit of the African diaspora, encouraging people to reconnect with their roots and honor their heritage.
Experiencing the dichotomy between the beautiful Cape Coast and the horrific history of human suffering exposed me to the dualities of grief and joy. Looking out at the sea, I couldn’t help but think of how these waters carried not only the bodies of countless West Africans but also their grief, tears, and sorrows—the true ‘darkness’ imposed by colonizers. Perhaps this is why I have never seen the sea calm; the waves always seem so tumultuous, reflecting the turmoil of the past.
We should say out loud, “Never Again”.
Medasse,
Afia (My Ghanian Name)
Reference
Begum, T (2023). ‘We lay like corpses. Then the raping began’: 52 years on, Bangladesh’s rape camp survivors speak out. The Guardian. April 3. https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2023/apr/03/52-years-bangladesh-birangona-women-mass-rape-surviviors
Cavendish, R. (n.d.). Elmina Castle. Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/World-Heritage-site
Cavendish, R. (n.d.). Cape Coast Castle. Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Cape-Coast-Castle