Returning to the Point of No Return

Among other attractions, Ghana is known for the slave castles on the Gulf of Guinea (Atlantic Ocean) in and around Cape Coast.  The most popular, Elmina Castle, is the oldest and largest slave castle in Africa.  Because of this, Cape Coast was definitely an important stop on my trek through Ghana.  So, I headed off early the morning after Christmas and was pleasantly surprised that Lola and Ayo (newlyweds from Nigeria) decided to postpone their departure back home to come with me.  Cape Coast is a 3 hour bus ride from Accra, so off we went at the wee hours of the morning to see Elmina Castle and whatever else they could cram into one day (I planned on staying in the area for two days).  

A quick history lesson: Elmina Castle was built more than 500 years ago by the Portuguese as a trading post for goods that over time became one of the central holding places for slaves traded during the Trans-Atlantic trade.  At any point in time, the castle held 1,000 slaves in captivity (usually 600 men and 400 women) for months until boats arrived to take them to America and the Caribbean.  African slaves from all over Ghana were traded to the Portuguese and British by the Ashantis for things as trivial as alcohol and guns.  Once brought to the castle, women and men were put into separate dungeons and left in crowded quarters to fight for food that was thrown in once a day and live among their own waste.  Lots of the women were raped by the overseers and the Governor of the castle and subsequently impregnated.  One “perk” to becoming pregnant by the captors was that these women and their children were freed and not packed into the slave boats headed for the Americas.  For others, the outlook wasn’t as “rosy.”  When the boats finally arrived to transport the slaves across the Atlantic, they were taken through the “Point of No Return” to the ship – some never to be heard from again because they died in transit.  Present day, Cape Coast is still a booming fishing town and has become one of Ghana’s intellectual centers boasting more than 20 secondary schools and colleges with a range of different concentrations.

Reading the history in a book is one thing.  Visiting the site is another.  I didn’t expect to have the emotional reaction that I did when touring the castle.  I haven’t really said this aloud to avoid sounding nuts, but I feel like my ancestors are from Ghana.  That I’m from Ghana.  The deep sorrow I felt when I was touring the castle and walking through the dungeons that still smelled rank of human waste hundreds of years later was overwhelming.  Like I was feeling the pain of my grandmother 10 times removed who suffered here in captivity, was stripped away from her family and crammed into a ship set sail for a foreign land.  

Of course, I haven’t put all the time, energy and resources into tracking my genealogy and maybe one day I will.  But for now, I have the feeling in my spirit.  The tour guide was especially attentive to me because he kept telling me “This is your history sister, these are your ancestors” because I was the only Black American there.  And I knew he was right.  I cry a little writing this because I knew this trip would be life-changing for me.  And I can’t put words to the change or even explain it yet, but I know I feel it.

I am deeply grateful to have been able to share the experience with Ayo and Lola, two of the most genuine and caring people I have met in a long time.  Lola is such a nurturer – she was so protective of me during the tour and in the hours following until they departed Cape Coast grabbing my hand and holding on until she saw the sadness pass and trying to do things to make me laugh.  When she said her and Ayo plan to have children right away, I thought briefly how lucky those babies will be to have her as a mother.

Overall, it was a moving, necessary and eye-opening experience returning to the point of no return for so many of our family members.  I hope their souls are at rest and that they’re proud of us.

Elmina Castle, the largest and oldest slave castle in Africa.

More info on the slave trade in Ghana

"The Point of No Return" - I'm not sure if you can tell from this picture, but this space is about a foot wide and maybe 5 feet tall and all slaves were made to go through this exit to the ships waiting to take them to the Americas.

Looking through the eyes of our ancestors

Ayo and Lola

I'm Back Online...and PICS working!

Hey!  I missed ya'll!  After two wireless-less days in Cape Coast (but lots of adventures), I've reached Kumasi.  So far, I love it.  It has a totally different feel than Accra so I can't wait to get out there and tear up the town.

First things first - FOOD!  I'm venturing out to find some local grub and will post some good stuff later on tonight for your reading pleasure.  And guess what...after nearly the entire trip is gone, I can now post pictures.  So scroll down to your favorite posts to see the accompanying pics...I'll post more tonight.

I hope you all had a wonderful couple days since last we "talked."

Ghana: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Well, it’s Christmas Day and I sat on the balcony in front of my room for the last time this morning.  Every morning since I’ve been here, I have sat on that balcony looking out over the little shanty town and just beyond to the sea that runs into the sky.  The breeze in this spot is unbelievable and I usually end my day writing and listening to music in this same spot until the bats and mosquitoes run me back into my room.

Tomorrow, I’m leaving Accra to go to Cape Coast in the Central Region and Kumasi in the Ashanti region.  I have fallen in love with my new family, this sea, that breeze and will always remember these days at La Paradise Inn as some of the happiest of my life.  While I will be back in Accra for one day on my way back to the States, the times I’ve had over these last few days will stay with me always. 

Today, I received the best Christmas gifts ever – hot water, the beach and a farewell dinner that I will never forget. 

About the water.  Since I arrived a week ago, I have yet to get the hot water in my shower to work no matter the amount of tinkering from the hotel workers.  While the water hasn’t been frigid, it’s not been warm - best SAT word I can think of is "tepid."  But it’s no big deal really since Ghana is so hot.  Well, today when I turned on the nozzle out poured the most wonderful, warm water ever.  I showered like it was 1999 ya’ll!  It’s such a small thing that I take for granted in the States but one of the most precious gifts I have ever received on Christmas. 

The next is the beach.  I brought in Christmas dancing and partying on Tawala Beach screaming “Merry Christmas” at the top of my lungs into the sky at midnight.  Me, Donna, Victor, Kate and a few others all went down to Tawala beach around 11:30 to listen to music, drink and usher Christmas in the right way.  I have never spent Christmas on a beach and even if I do it every Christmas until the coming of the lord, it will never be this way again.

Last is our Christmas/farewell dinner.  I want to cry thinking about how wonderful Donna, Victor, Ann, Roland, Kate and newlyweds Lola and Ayo from Nigeria have been.  I know I will be friends with Kate, Ann and Lola forever because we cliqued like we’d known each other our entire lives.  They’re all my sisters (and I just met Lola yesterday!)  We all gathered in our usual dinner spot, the cabana by the pool, for a wonderful dinner of guinea fowl and potatoes, a game of “Guess that Tune”, telling jokes, talking sports, telling tales of getting beaten as children and our love and respect for our parents because of it and just enjoying our last day together before everyone checks out of Paradise tomorrow and goes their separate ways.

But we all have the precious gift that we have found in each other.  Tonight’s dinner had people from Italy (Victor), the UK (Donna), Africa (Lola and Ayo), America (Me) and Sweden (Ann and Roland) and we were all speaking one language.  It’s more than amazing and I will miss this place and these people.  Farewell Donna, Victor, Kate, Nenekwame, Ann, Roland, Lola and Ayo – much love.   

But, there’s no time for tears because I’m off to other adventures in Africa first thing in the morning.  Merry Christmas ya'll, I hope you had a wonderful day filled with gifts that can’t be bought from the store and enough love to carry you through to next Christmas and the next.  I have to be up in 4 hours...now ya'll KNOW this is about to be a hot mess!  HA!

Donna and Victor party it up until 12:01...and then bail on us.

Can you hear me saying "Merry Christmas...HO HO HO!!!!"  No?  Well, I was screaming it loud enough while I danced like a wild woman on the beach.

Happy times!

Kate and I are pooped...we worked up an appetite and are waiting on some good chicken off the beach grill.

Thanksgiving Leftovers for Christmas

Today is Christmas Eve and my heart is heavy.

Yesterday, I went to Labadi Beach with Ann and Roland and had a nice time taking in the sun and enjoying the huge waves and wonderful breeze despite the hoard of beach salesman trying to sell everything from masks and bracelets to live renditions of "No Woman, No Cry" and choreographed dance routines. 

Later in the evening, I went out to this nice local night spot called Bywel to take in some live music, good food and drinks.  I had a wonderful evening with wonderful company.  On the way back to the hotel, we passed through the Makola Market that I mentioned a few posts back - the one with the pig's feet and plenty of people everywhere - and I must say that I wasn't really prepared for what I saw.

The same people who just a couple days earlier were selling all manner of goods and services in the street, were now sleeping in those very same spots - women, children and all.  People were everywhere, laying still and flat in the pitch dark in a very organized fashion.  If I wasn't looking closely enough, I wouldn't have realized that hundreds of people were laying around on the streets, sidewalks and loading docks and appeared to have retired to rest hours ago.  I saw a woman "tucking" her daughter in on the sidewalk and it brought tears to my eyes.  And ironically, it was very calm and quiet, not at all the kind of noise or violence you would expect to arise from these living conditions.

I definitely was not foolish enough to think that homelessness doesn't exist here in Ghana, but I would have never imagined this.  Just on the other side of the front gate of my hotel is a "shanty town" - a community of flimsy homes most of which don't have running water or indoor plumbing that I assume are relatively easy to get and free to stay.  I just assumed that everyone who was "less fortunate" stayed there but I was very wrong.

This year will be my first Christmas without family or loved ones.  But I don't feel alone or unloved because I am spending the day with new found friends and loved ones.  I know the workers here at the hotel have hard lives outside of these gates and I know God will bless them and their families as they have blessed me during my time here.  I also  thank God for always finding new ways to remind me that my success is not my doing but his and that I have an obligation to share it with my brothers and sisters here and at home.  


I know in America, we see Christmas as a holiday to buy gifts and spend unnecessarily because we're so lucky to have a whole 'nother day dedicated solely to giving thanks for our blessings.  But this Christmas, I encourage everyone to reach back a few weeks to Thanksgiving and send a million "thank you's" to God for every single blessing he's given.  And there is no blessing too small or insignificant because we have brothers and sisters here in Africa and all around the world who praise him much more for much less.

So ya'll, I'm having leftover "thanks" for Christmas and you should do the same.

The cutest little beach acrobat...I gave this little boy wayyyy too much money!

The bootleg African beach version of Bob Marley and the Wailers...they were taking requests so I got my "No Woman, No Cry" on at the beach! =)

Sunset...this was before seeing the people sleeping on the street made me very sad.

WTF Alert: Africans Can Salsa?!

Yes folks, you read that right - tonight I saw tons of Africans doing the salsa.  Now, I'm not talking about making a fresh bowl of that tomatoey-cilantro goodness, I'm talking about the kind of salsa that Carrie Ann, Len and Bruno would give all "10s." 

Tonight I went out to the Coconut Grove Hotel for Salsa Night with Auntie Ann and Roland (from Sweden), Donna and Victor (hotel owners) and Kate and Nenekwame (my fav hotel peeps).  And boy was it a sight to see.  The dance floor was all the open space around the hotel pool and people were getting their salsa on to some good Spanish music - two feet from a pool with nine feet of water in it.  But you best believe those people were spinning and twirling and gyrating hips without missing a beat or going in the deep end.

Nenekwame wanted me and him to go up and join the salsa fun so badly but I opted to stay in my seat and watch the beauty that is Africans salsa dancing.  However, I did get up to shake a tailfeather when they started doing line dancing.  I mean, it ain't a party until somebody starts the electric slide (this one with an African twist).

Funny thing: So remember the guy I said played the drums for us at the Culture Centre with his brothers?  Well his name is Martin and I saw him tonight.  I called out to him and he came to give us all fist pounds and told us about Reggae Night at Labadi Beach tonight.  Unfortunately, I didn't end up going because there was another power outage and the roads are dark.  So much for reggae, I've seen that before anyway.  I got the ultimate treat tonight - SALSA!

Sorry this pic is blurry, but I think you get it...can you see the people and then the pool in the middle.  PURE TALENT!

Roland, Kate and Nene getting jiggy wit it!

Donna finishing off a kebab, Victor snapping pics and Auntie Ann smiling big at Salsa Night!

Auntie Ann and I tear up Salsa Night...while never leaving our seats!  LOL

Nene was giving it to 'em...I finally got up and danced with him and then the party came to a quick end. LOL

The Un-Natural Side of Ghana

After getting one too many crazy looks from the women here in Ghana, I felt that I needed to speak on it.  Like I’ve said in several posts, the people here are nice…but I’m getting to the point where I can take or leave some of the women.  So here goes…

A friend told me once that people in Africa are going to look at me crazy with “that hair all over your head” but I was not trying to hear any of that.  I was certain that if any place would embrace being natural and relaxer-free, it would be mother Africa.  Well friend (read: Zee), you were right and I was oh so wrong.

African women are no better off than American women when it comes to defining beauty outside of what the media or years of oppression says it should be.  The Black woman in America has been plagued with images of beauty her entire life that oftentimes don’t look anything like her – the same goes for African women.  As I’ve gone throughout the city, I can probably count on two hands the number of women who are natural here – regardless of living conditions.  

When I first arrived, I was so excited to see that girls at public schools here are made to cut their hair as short as the boys.  The first thing I thought was: “How awesome, they get a fresh start and don't have to define their beauty by the length or texture of their hair.”  Then, I was yanked back down to reality when a Nigerian friend of mine said: “Kim, don’t overly romanticize it, those little girls run to get a weave-on whenever they are out of school on holiday.  I haven’t seen a woman with natural hair for 10 years here in Nigeria and I know it’s the same in Ghana.”  I was also told that people still bleach their skin here (sad sad sad).  And if that wasn’t enough confirmation, I saw a middle-aged Ghanaian woman yesterday at the mall with dreadlocks.  When I told her how beautiful they were she said: “They don’t appreciate it here.  They follow the white man’s view of beauty like they hate themselves and the hair that grows out of their very own heads.”

There it is folks: Same self-hate, different continent.  Honestly, my decision to go natural back in 2002 wasn’t rooted in anything pro-Black or Afrocentric.  I was just sick and tired of having my scalp set ablaze every four weeks just to have that shaky, bouncy look.  But I have to say, after seeing the “stank” thrown my way from some of the women here because I don’t have a perm, I’m taking a real stance.  If you’re a woman of color reading this, hear me loud and clear: It’s time for us to let that old slavery, colonialism, segregation mentality go and stop abusing ourselves because of it.  We will never look like the girl on the TV, naturally anyway (let Lil' Kim be a warning to us all). 

And this is more than just about our hair ladies - it’s about our bodies, our skin color, our imperfections that make us stop short of being all that God wants us to be and realizing our full potential.  One of my favorite movies of all time is “Imitation of Life,” an unfortunate tale about a black woman who “passes” for white and alienates herself from her Black mother in the process.  It isn’t by any means a feel-good movie, rather it is a metaphor for so many of our lives.  Whether we’re “passing” with our skin, our hair, our language, our backgrounds, we all live double lives just to make it here in America. 

And it appears as though our sisters in Africa are “passing” too – perhaps having a perm or a “weave-on” signifies status for them, allows them to pretend like they’re not going home to no indoor plumbing or electricity if that's their reality.  But I can’t help but feel like we in America are somehow responsible – like the big sister who drops out of school and then tells her little sister to make good grades.  Sometimes they do as we do, not as we say.  And what we do in America is certainly traveling across the waters and stripping away so much of the culture, beauty and authenticity of Africa. 

 

This blog isn’t meant to do anything more than encourage us all to take a step back, strip ourselves of all the things the world has ascribed to us, look in the mirror and find self-love and acceptance in what's looking back at us.  God wouldn’t have us to believe that we’re ugly because we don’t perm our hair, undesirable because we have more than a few extra pounds to lose, or unlovable because we are a couple shades too dark for some man’s preference.

So, with that said, my goal for the rest of the trip is to continue to be proud of and liberated by my nappy hair, get the darkest tan possible and walk around like I’m God’s gift to the earth…because I am.  And plus, our little sisters in Africa are watching.

Open for business...I guess you don't need much more space than this.

Smallest beauty shop in the world...and yes, that's Kelly Rowland's face on the bottom right.

Music is the Language of the World

I've always loved music because of its ability to transport me to a different place in time, remind me of happy or sad times and get me up, up, up when I need to be.  And if you have ever seen footage of a Michael Jackson concert in China, you know that music is more about the emotion than understanding the lyrics or the language being spoken.  So yesterday, music somehow found a way to work its way into every part of my day...and what a day it was!

I started off the day with a date to meet Jackie at Accra Mall at the ShopRite.  Jackie is the cousin of my friend Zenobia's daughter's father (whew!) who lives in this area with her husband Patrick and six-year-old son Tymon (I love Tymon because he calls me Auntie).  My favorite guy at the hotel Nenekwame got me a cab outside the gate and tells the driver that I am going to Accra Mall - no problem.  Then he tells him to play music popular in Ghana right now for me on our way there - it was a mixture of hip hop, R&B and reggae, the best of all three worlds. So off we go!

Now ya'll, traffic in D.C. and Dallas can be a mess but this traffic TAKES THE CROWN!  Imagine sitting still in a hot car with no A/C for 5 minutes, moving 50 feet, sitting there for 5 more minutes, moving 50 more feet and so on and so forth.  So the music was a saving grace and served as a conversation piece throughout the hot ride.  And by the time we reached our destination, I was a sweaty hot mess and about 100 pounds lighter.  This is where the drama begins: After an hour in a hot car, my cab driver took me to the wrong place and then lied and told me that this is where I wanted to be (hindsight = 20/20 because I didn't realize this at the time; Kate told me later that he was probably illiterate and didn't really know where the mall was in the first place).  Unfortunately for me, I didn't have Jackie's number or a phone to call her on to confirm, so I got out of the cab and set off into the masses of people swarming around the "Accra Mall."

Well folks, if this was the mall, it wasn't like any I'd ever seen before.  It was the Makola Market.  Umm, let's see, what words can describe this.  Ok, you know that swap meet I mentioned the other day at the Cultural Centre?  Well, multiply THAT by five, add hundreds more people walking around with stuff on their heads, 20 degrees hotter than hell, the most massive traffic jam ever, people selling everything from huge pig's feet, snails, okra, fish and carrots to Issey Miyake and Obsession cologne...all on the street. 

I was initially a little panicked.  All I kept thinking was "How the hell am I going to find Jackie in this mess?" (it hadn't been confirmed for me yet that this wasn't the mall because a few blocks back a sign said "Makola Mall" and my driver had told me this was the same thing).  After squeezing past cars, people and pig's feet, I saw a Fire Station - public servants to the rescue!  I mean, if people who don't want their kids can leave them at the fire station in a basket then surely they can help me out of this hot ass conundrum.  Hmmm, well, the most help they gave was breaking the news to me that this was indeed NOT the Accra Mall and that it was all the way on the other side of town (read: you can't walk there).

Ok, no problemo, I'd just get another cab to take me over there...or so I thought.  Noone would pick me up, I mean NOONE.  The drivers were not overly thrilled about getting out of one traffic jam to join another one going in the opposite direction.  All the while I'm still maneuvering my way through the crowd and out of the market in the mall's direction so at least I'd be headed the right way when I found a cab.  The whole way all I could think was "If only I had my iPod this wouldn't be so bad."  So I started to sing some of my favorites in my head, humming as I went along to help ease the anxiety that was trying to creep up.

One mile and probably 10 cab rejections later, I was sweating my butt off - literally.  Once I reached the National Theatre, I saw an older gentleman and asked if I was still walking in the right direction toward the mall.  His name was Kopla, a jovial man who was definitely very proud to be from Ghana and beamed when I told him that I lived near President Obama.  Well, Kopla jumped right into action to help me hail a cab, negotiate a fare and set me on my way to the mall.  (Side note: I'm learning that if I mention that I live near Obama, I can get some kind of positive reaction out of people here).  Another hour of traffic and more good Ghanaian and Nigerian music and I finally landed at the ShopRite at Accra Mall.  I have never been so happy to see a grocery store in my life (and I loves me a grocery store)!

I knew Jackie wouldn't be at the mall anymore but I was determined to contact her to make sure she knew I'd come.  This mall was similar to any you'd see in America, so I was sure I'd be able to get a phone and use the computer somewhere in here.  I walked a little and spotted an Internet Cafe (check!), learned that I could get a phone a few stores down from that (check!), bought the phone, put minutes on it, went to the Internet cafe, got Jackie's phone number out of my email and gave her a call (check check check!).  She was soooo relieved to hear from me (and I her) and was just returning to the mall to look for me that minute.  We finally found each other and set off in traffic toward her house on the outskirts of Accra talking about jazz, Miles Davis and Kenny G on the way there.

All of this completely wiped away all the drama that I went through trying to get to Jackie, it was worth it all.  I spent the rest of the day with Jackie and Tymon talking about everything under the sun in the kitchen while she cooked plantains, goat and fish soup and fufu for me and the family (her eyes lit up when she talked about how much she LOVES to eat McDonald's and go to the Chinese buffet when she visits America).  The soup and fufu was THE BEST, seriously.  She showed me pictures of family and church gatherings; Tymon's school performances; when she went to the Kenny G concert and he got so close she could reach out and touch him; plots of land her and Patrick just bought out in the country; and, trips to her cousin's pineapple farm in the country.  We talked and laughed for hours until her husband Patrick came home to join the party in the kitchen.  We all talked for awhile and then Patrick took me back to my hotel.

It was the best car ride ever!  He played all kinds of Ghanaian and Nigerian music from his iPod and told me all about "Hip Life", the style of music that I'd been listening to in the cabs that's a mixture between hip hop and what they call "High Life."  And if I'm the Queen of Random R&B, Patrick is the King (he had Syleena Johnson, Terrence Trent D'Arby and Soul for Real on his iPod- random!).  His iPod was any girl's dream, a mix of all kinds of music from all around the world, new and old.  When we reached the hotel, we sat out front for awhile going through each other's iPods, comparing music, introducing each other to new artists, playing the "Remember this one?" game and reminiscing about the good old days when music was great.  What I loved about this moment was that we grew up worlds apart from each other but music united us in a moment in time with a similar good emotion that made it feel like we were neighbors.  It was beautiful and such a great way to end a day that started off all wrong.  One of the artists he introduced me to is a woman named Asa (pronounced "A-sha") from Nigeria.  Her music is the truth ya'll, I love her.  She just released her second album and I can't wait to get back home and download all her music.  Here's one of my favorites: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pfiwtl3OhM.

Throughout the craziness of the day, I had music in the car, blasting from speakers in the market, floating through the mall from the music store (FYI: Rick Ross is in concert here on 12/28) and in my head as I walked down the street.

Music was my saving grace today and thank God for it (and Jackie, Tymon, Patrick and Kopla too).

Yes folks, that's right, we are driving into oncoming traffic.  Why you ask?  To avoid going up the road and making a u-turn. 

Here's the National Theatre...I couldn't walk any longer and was about to die of heat exhaustion when Kopla saved me!

Peeps here LOVE them some Barack!

Jackie's goat soup and fufu...yummmmmyyyyyy!

Sitting in traffic isn't so bad when you have constant reminders of how good God is everywhere you turn.