Ghana Revisited

I traveled to Ghana in 2008 with my son, then 21 years old, in large part for him to retrace his African heritage. As the white mother of an African descent child, I felt honored to accompany my son on this significant journey. Parenting my children meant vigilant navigation of American racism, and the confrontation of painful realities in both subtle and overt ways. Going to Ghana felt proactive, and although we were not sure of what to expect, we approached it with joy and excitement.

We were fortunate to be in the company of friends who knew Ghana well, both Americans and Ghanaians. Though our itinerary included the usual stops such as Accra, Cape Coast and Elmina, our encounters with residents were many. If I had to characterize the weeks spent in Ghana with one word, it would be laughter, day after day. The friendships we made were maintained though frequent emails and phone calls. I felt pride when people frequently commented on my son’s manners, humor, and general ability to engage with Ghanaians. The bonds we formed lent credence to the concept of “friend for life”.

When the opportunity to return to Ghana as a Teaching Assistant for a four week Maymester course was offered to me, I jumped at it. My dear friend Frank Decosta would be joining us as one of the local coordinator. Frank is a lecturer at the university and well versed in all matters Ghanaian. Our reunion resembled one of long lost friends as he carried me around in circles with my students looking on. If I could explain what Ghana feels like to me, that moment would aptly describe it. For those who travel, home exists on so many levels.

Africa is often digested in one all encompassing gulp. To comprehend the diversity of this large, often misunderstood continent, one would have to traverse the landmass from top to bottom, side to side. Hardly practical for most of us, we settle for a visit to one, perhaps two countries if we are lucky. In the absence of the ability to actually make the journey, I can only recommend reading books that provide historical, political, and cultural information to process the magnitude of what Africa has been, and continues to be to the industrialized world.

Regardless of your take on Africa, the historical context and role of the European powers, later America, and now China cannot be ignored. I am not set to preach; however, once you obtain a basic grasp of the interruption caused by carving up land like a chess game with no regard to tribe, language, or culture, the conditions of Africa are less perplexing. The capture of African land and people by Arabs and later Europeans, the designation of European colonies and later nationhood resembled the way Middle East was remapped by the Sykes-Picot Agreement in 1917. Borders were determined by economic self-interest with no consideration given to history and culture, making the these decisions seem reckless and arbitrary from a retrospective vantage point. The havoc wrought by the greed and entitlement of European powers to confiscate resources and conquer without a shred of doubt has resulted in consequences felt to this very day.

The wealth we enjoy in the west was built on the backs of free labor from Africa, the indigenous residents of the Americas, immigrants from China who built railroads, and later other sources of cheap labor including undocumented workers. Americans and Europeans can complain about the cultural intrusion and depletion of social services caused by these outsiders; however, I see no rush to pay higher wages to legal residents or employers refraining from hiring workers they well know are undocumented. As the waters of West Africa are illegally stripped by Western European and Asian countries, those who sustenance depends on the fishing industry ironically set off on treacherous journeys in boats that would otherwise provide their livelihood. These desperate attempts to reach the shores of Europe in hopes of earning wages not found in their home country are often lethal. I observed this in Senegal, and was compelled to create The Senegal Series: The New Slavery, paintings depicting the story of those who embark on the journey in search of a “better life”.

The phenomenon is widespread though, and sadly it extends to places as remote as the small Greek island I have frequented for many years. The increased numbers of Albanians and Romanians working the hotels and construction jobs is pronounced. Years of listening to my European friends criticize the U.S. on racism, political bullying, and consumerism (all well founded) have come back to haunt them. In some cases, they hail from former slave trading nations who were spared the nastiness of slavery on their soil, enjoying a lofty position until the the “immigrant problem" knocked them off their pedistal. Xenophobia, racism, and fear are part of their national landscape just as racial profiling and the achievement gap is part of ours. Being in Ghana and linking the slave trade and their colonial past to our present is more like parallel play than severed ties. The stories continue to cross the Atlantic, and our fates remain intricately intertwined.

While I sat by a student’s sick bed in the hospital (she is fully recovered!), I had time to spare. I began reading Richard Dowden’s Africa: Altered States and Ordinary Miracles. Still only halfway through the 550 pages, I am baffled by the complexity that comprises Africa. I am reminded that we must resist the temptation to cut a broad swath across the continent, rather, inform ourselves of the diversity that Africa is, and how in understanding Africa we better grasp the development of our nation and ourselves. The urge to pathologize Africa as if we are innocent bystanders is as ludicrous as pointing a finger at the Middle East and blaming one side versus the other, or believing the rise of Islamic fervor came from out of the blue. We will continue to be cold cocked if we refuse to acknowledge our role in setting the stage for dictatorships, poverty, and terrorism that has shifted our reality and ability to move about as fearlessly as we once did.

Being in Ghana connects me to history and reminds me our ties are not as buried by the past as we may think. The ability to tell our story, whatever the story may be, is a critical link. The inhibitors of storytelling include include shame and guilt about the past and the role our ancestors may have played. Still, the story matters. My colleague on this trip is a Ghanaian whose great, great grandfather was a chief in Elmina who traded slaves. We drove past the ancestral home that dates back hundreds of years, and where family members still reside. His 101 year old grandmother lived there until she passed recently.

Good and evil are two sides of the same coin and not necessarily exclusive to each other. Redemption offers the opportunity to liberate our spirit and redefine our journey. Contradiction is inherent in all our stories, histories, and attempt to make sense of that which seems unforgivable including slavery, the Holocaust, ethnic cleansing, massacres, and mass starvation. Walking through Cape Coast and Elmina slave castles pushes the bounds of human understanding. The strategy of the built environment is evident in the location of the Anglican chapel above the male slave dungeon, or the Governors quarters above the female slave dungeon. Looking out through the door of no return, the Atlantic Ocean is a mirror to the American present as well as past. The image of my son standing in deep thought before that gateway is one I will never forget.

When we were in Tema a few days ago with a group of students Frank reminded me we were close to an old slave fort he had visited with a mutual friend. Two students of African descent chose to go with us to see it. The fort is in a state of severe decay; however, the structure still reveals details of its past function including dungeons and the quarters of the captors. This historical site is of a much smaller scale compared to the roots tourist destinations of Elmina and Cape Coast. If you were not informed in advance of its historical significance, the fort is all but indistinguishable from other structures that line the shore this coastal village. A family lives in the lower portion, there is a hole in the floor upstairs, and part of the roof is exposed. Nonetheless, walking through the ruin ghosts of the past can be felt, calling to memory against the sound of the mighty Atlantic surf. In a faint whisper voices seem to be saying don’t forget us, we mattered, we were once here.

Emerging from the fort life is everywhere, boats bobbing on the sea, people gathered along the beach eating, visiting, and children running about playing. Long after captured Africans were sent along the coast to Cape Coast and Elmina, generations lived through colonial rule, independence, the election of governments, and the building of lives and families. We pick up where others leave off, the stories of those before us leading the way. An old slave fort is someone’s residence and a place to gather on a Sunday afternoon, yet it remains a site of memory that no amount of neglect can deny. While the contradiction is confounding, it is also an opening to explore the complex mystery of humanity. Our willingness to comply with evil or act in defiance on behalf of righteousness is more than a polar extreme. We move through life acquiring layers of vision by a willingness to tell our stories and listen to the stories of others. Ultimately, that is the great equalizer.

I first came to Ghana to help my son connect with his African ancestry as a means to fortify his life as a black male in the United States. I hoped he would fill in the missing pieces of his story as an individual and part of a collective. What began as a mother’s attempt to provide for her child has evolved to a larger narrative, one that encompasses a tapestry of stories, placeholders of memory, the wonder of the human condition, and the part of the equation only explained by magic. Here in Ghana the unfolding continues with more to come.