cape coast castle, Ghana

It gives a strange feeling to visit a slave fort. One one side I am interested in the history, and I want to see for myself what happened. On the other side, it is a strange ‘tourist activity’ to undertake. During the visit of the slave fort, I heard and saw a lot of horrible things.

I saw this small place, where so many people were kept in. I heard how there was dung up to half a meter and people were sleeping on it.

I heard how women had to wash themself with salty sea water, except when they were ‘selected’. Then they could use sweet water, so the general can have a clean lady, who, after the rape, got dumped in the womens dungeon again.

I heard about the slave ships, where people were loaded like burden. Like tetris, fitted as efficient as possible in that ship.

I saw the church, which they built on top of the male dungeon. To pray for god, while there were people screaming underneath them.

I saw the prison for the black, which is nothing more than a hole. No light, no oxygen. I heard how people were kept here when they tried to run away. It was the last place they ever saw. A creepy place to die.

I was standing in a place where so many people died. A slave fort is full of history, and history is not always great. But I am glad I went there. I cannot close my eyes for this history.

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