When I step out the door of the Brick House I am wearing a
flashing neon sign attached to my head reading Dumb Tourist Easy Target.
Ambitious young Andrew is the first to spot me and pounce.
We marvel at the coincidence of ‘Andrew’ also being my husband’s name, then he
asks my name and the business transaction begins!
Andrew’s clever friend, George weaves name bracelets with
his own dextrous fingers using the colours of Ghana’s flag, green, yellow, red
and black. I am hooked! Within minutes I’ve notched up 21 names of family and
friends for George to create in his ‘studio’ corner by the castle gate. At
three cedis each, he’s having a bumper day! Don’t be too alarmed for me! C3 =
£1, so divide C63 by 3 = £21 and I haggled for a whopping C3 bulk discount!
But fast-talking Andrew’s not finished with me yet. There’s
his soccer club that needs jerseys and boots. Wait a minute, isn’t this a case
of déjà vu? I’ve been down this road before with young Clinton and Felix in
Shia! And I know how it ends, with me shaking my empty purse!
But I’m a sucker for a good cause and I donate C10 to his
club, all signed for officially on a special sponsorship form, and C5 to his
mate’s club and a further C10 for Andrew to buy himself an English dictionary.
The other jewellery hawkers want a piece of the action. You
can guess how this scene is played out. A beguiling teenage boy with a lovely
smile sells me seven bracelets for C20. A bargain! A gentle woman called
Comfort moves in and scores C5 for more bracelets.
I break free and make my way to the Elmina Castle with young
Andrew in hot pursuit. He gives me a shell with a hand written message and a
friendship necklace. I suspect our dealings are not over yet.
Aptly, today is Republic Day, a national holiday celebrating
55 years since Ghana became a Republic in 1957 when they politely asked the
British to leave! Being also terribly polite, the British did just that. Ghana
has proudly enjoyed democratic elections ever since.
At the entrance I face another obstacle to negotiate. Entry
is a small charge for Ghanaians and students but sticky-nose tourists are
charged C11 (a reasonable way to redress the balance ever so slightly). But
read the fine print! It costs tourists C20 to take photos! Hooley Dooley.
That’s a touch unfair! You could knock me down with a feather! This is a first!
Not even the Vatican Museum charges for photos!
Having been fleeced already, I opt to refrain from taking
photos. It’s like a drug addict promising to abstain! Being a holiday, the grim
tourist attraction is over-run with school kids and extra visitors so I tag
along with Phillip, the guide, and a school group in lime green polo shirts and
a Danish couple.
Phillip explains how the once-grandiose castle was
originally built by the Portuguese 530 years ago as a fort to protect
missionaries and traders. But interest shifted from gold to human cargo in the
17th century when
innocent Africans from throughout the continent were rounded
up and captured and brought to Elmina Castle, ingloriously converted to
horrendously cruel dungeons.
Up to 1000 African people (600 men and 400 women) were held
in the dungeons until slaving ships came to transport them in appalling and
treacherous conditions.
Soldiers sexually abused female captives. Many got pregnant
and countless women died in shame and agony. Men convicted for being Freedom
Fighters against slavery were incarcerated in suffocating cells with no food or
water. Surviving captives were herded through the Door of No Return to be
transported to numerous complicit countries and condemned to lives of immense
suffering and hardship.
Between 12 and 20 million Africans were transported across
the Atlantic from the late 17th to the early 19th
century. We like to naively believe that slavery ended back then but human
trafficking is still rampant today.
Our guide, Phillip tells us that the British and Dutch
attempted to abolish slavery in 1807 but illegal trade continued until 1860
when finally, not so much on humane grounds as the fact machines could now do
the job of slaves, the disgraceful practice came to end at Elmina.
A sombre plaque at Elmina Castle 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.’
Looking around the soul-chilling dungeons and reflecting on
the despicable crimes committed against the African people is a disturbing
experience and I head back to the guesthouse for a breather.
Later in the afternoon I emerge to collect my handmade name
bracelets from George. My new best friend, young Andrew invites me to the
holiday football match so I agree to meet him later.
Young Andrew collects me and steers me through the chaos of
stalls and mud and rubbish to the red dirt field where thousands of spectators,
all black, are hyped up for the Big Game. Yet again I stand out like a snowman
at a Black Panther Convention. People watch me suspiciously, or is it with
curiosity, as young Andrew leads me to an ideal vantage point.
We watch the action for half an hour or so and see the home
team score a goal to a rapturous response from the crowd! Then I notice the
mossies circling me, planning their strategy, ready to launch an attack, and I
realise I’ve forgotten to apply the super strength repellent. I’d rather not
contract malaria if I can avoid so I inform Andrew I’m going back to the
guesthouse and he insists on escorting me.
Andrew has upped the ante, telling me about his large family
of three brothers and three sisters and his parents who are unemployed and
struggle to pay the rent and buy food and how they cry with despair.
At the aspirational age of 25, he burns with ambition to
study computer technology in the UK and dreams of landing a good job and
supporting his family. I’m overcome with compassion and wish I could help him
escape this poverty trap through an education and job opportunities.
I have no idea how the UK immigration system works in regard
to visas for Ghanaian people but I tell hopeful young Andrew I will do the
research. And I will. I have now “adopted” two young men to help educate and
get jobs. Two young lives out of millions. It’s a start.
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