Komenda

9-25-11

This last week (9/18 through 9/25) was the rural stay, but it wasn’t all that rural. We got into the bus and drove about 30 minutes west down the coast from Cape Coast to Komenda, which is a paramount city. What this means is that Komenda is responsible for outlying villages, such as Kissi and Kyense (pronounced chen-say. I know, “ky” apparently makes a “ch” sound in Fante, and it is messed up. I don’t really know why it honestly matters, since Fante is an oral language, and no one here agrees how to spell anything in Fante). All the outlining villages have their respective chiefs and elders, but they are held responsible by the chiefs and elders in Komenda. Komenda itself is roughly 12,000 people as of the 2000 census, and the outlining villages are around 500-4000 people each. There is electricity in the town, which doesn’t always work, but running water is not common, so I had to get used to the bucket philosophy of showering and bathroom flushing.

Komenda itself was wonderful and fun. It was only a few blocks long, and it was right on the Atlantic Ocean. There were maybe two paved roads that existed, while everything else was dirt roads. The main complex of buildings is Komenda Training College, located a short walk farther west down the beach. There used to be a sugarcane factory about twenty years ago, which provided a large source of income, jobs, and electricity to the town, but it was shut down due to mismanagement. Komenda has never really recovered, and thus the dynamics of the people in Komenda was very intriguing. Since there were very few jobs in town, most people in the middle of their lives went to Elmina, Cape Coast or Takoradi, the major towns close by, to work. That left the children in the care of the grandparents. There were very few people from my age to about sixty in the town. The kids deserve a special note. They were everywhere, and they were relentless. The training at the primary school included a very simple English dialogue, but the kids were not fully aware that it was a dialogue. Everywhere we went, kids yelled after us, “Brunyi-coco (meaning red foreigner) how are you? I’m fine. Thank you. And you? I am also fine. Thank you.” They didn’t even give us a chance to respond, and it was said as a chant and so robotically that it was really cute. By the end, it was becoming kind of annoying though, but it was endurable.

Oh right, I should probably explain why we went to Komenda. We went there for some practice in research methods in relation to the big project at the end of the course, known as the ISP (Independent Study Project). The program turned out to be more sociological than historical, a misjudgment on my part, and so the research becomes mostly interviews. Apparently it used to be more historical, but that has changed in the past few years. This is not my strong strength, but it is good practice and good for possible future research. But knowing my mind, I had to refine my research topic and create an outline for my ISP before I could pursue any interviews, because I need to operate within this structure and framework to really get the most out of the interviewing process. I spent the better part of the week doing this. I even have a thesis in the works, and it is something like this: The development of monocultures in the colonial era coupled with European industrialization has created an African distrust of the West’s business practices, and has thus allowed the East to enter into Africa and establish their industries. It’s still a work in progress, and I have a bit of work to combine all of this information together and make a logical flow that the connections can be seen. Needless to say, I spent some time bouncing ideas off of Ebo Sam (the program assistant) and Dr. Avorgbedor (the main teacher for the course) to refine my topic and structure. I only got to one interview, and it honestly was not quite what I needed to do. Earlier in the week, before I had really established my thesis, we went to the Training College to meet with Ato Bedu-Addo, one of the higher up people at the college, and began to establish contacts with whom to meet. I knew I wanted to do something with monocultures, so I agreed to meet with an agricultural professor. I only had simple concepts to ask and get official definitions for, so the interview was not very successful, which is mostly my fault for not really being prepared. Oh well, lesson learned; spend a lot more time preparing and thinking before going into an interview.

Ebo Sam lives in Komenda, and he was gracious enough to open up his house for me this week. Since I am the only guy, it is necessary for me to have separate accommodations for obvious reasons. The other six girls paired up and were in separate homestays throughout Komenda. Our meeting place was Ebo Sam’s house, so I didn’t have very far to go every day. Also, I was fed way too much food, and I of course ate all that I could, because it was really good. Ebo Sam is married to Ama, and they have an eight-month old son named Kweku who is absolutely adorable. It was a lot of fun to be there, and it was also nice not to walk a distance to get to our meetings. Also, Ebo Sam likes jazz. Enough said.

Komenda is surprisingly hot during the midday hours, considering it is right on the ocean and there is a constant breeze coming into town. But after about four o’clock, when the sun is two hours away from setting, it starts to cool off nicely. Our group went to the beach around five or so about half the time just to enjoy the view. I don’t see an ocean all that often, and I don’t see palm trees that often either. The sunsets on the ocean were AMAZING! I don’t have any words to describe it, and the pictures I attempted to take of the sunset were unable to grasp the beauty of it. I really have no way of describing it, but when I upload some pictures in December I will ask you to describe it and see how good of a job you can do. That’s right, you won’t be able to.

Elmina and Assin Manso

9/4/11

Well, I am sorry to do this to you, but this is going to be a downer of an entry. I would rather not do this, but the circumstances essentially require me too. Last Friday (9/2) I went to Elmina Castle, which was a slave castle. For obvious reasons that was a difficult trip, but at the same time it was necessary.

The first part of the tour took us into the women’s cells, which was honestly traumatic. The cells were lined on the bottom level around a small courtyard, above which the general of the castle had his office and living space. The only time they were taken out of the cells was either when they were being transported to a slave ship, they were removed when they were dead (sometimes dead bodies were not removed for days), or the general made his selection. All the women would be gathered together in the courtyard, and the general would choose which women he wanted to sleep with. After he had pleasured himself, that woman would be brought back to a separate cell, but the ordeal was usually not over for her, because the guards would often thrill themselves at the woman’s expense. She was usually kept in this predicament until she died.

The next part took us to the men’s cells, which did not have a courtyard, or any light whatsoever. Through the men’s cells was the Door of No Return, where people would be taken onto ships and never return to Africa, for they were shipped into a lifetime of servitude in Brazil, the Caribbean, or the United States. The door was narrow, and the only way to get them through was to ensure that the captives were skinny enough to fit, so they were deliberately underfed to make them become skinnier. This was also to make the packing for the Middle Passage more efficient, getting more people on a ship at a time. In the cells (both men and women) there were no utilities, so people were forced to defecate where they were at, which piled up over time, creating a layer of excrement on the bottom of the floor, where they also had to sleep. Walking into the cells, I could smell something odd (and I have a bad sense of smell, so the fact that I smelled something means a lot). It was still the remaining particles of smell that were embedded into the stone of human remains, and not just fecal matter. The entire thing was disturbing, but it wasn’t the end of the tour.

After this, we ascended the castle to the upper levels, which also experienced a few more things that were quite disturbing. First of all, there were cannons on the castle, but they only faced towards the sea, for they were more concerned about other European nations coming to take over than an invasion from African peoples. This was because the populations on the coast became allied to the Europeans and they captured peoples from northern Ghana, Burkina Faso, and Northern Togo and Ivory Coast. The Europeans systematically subjugated the African populations by the intricate trade network. This trade supported the subjugation of Africa by other Africans, being unaware of the long-term results that this would create, since they were just trying to make a monetary bonus. On the upper levels of the castle were the people who were deemed more important according to the Europeans. This included the housing of missionaries, a church, and the staff who ran the castle. The entire idea of it honestly pissed me off, for this is not what Christianity should be aligned with. They should have been the ones dismantling the castle, not taking up residence in it. I wish I was making this stuff up, but I’m not.

Well, sorry about this post, but it had to happen.

Jon

9/7/11

Well, this entry is probably going to be shorter than the previous one I just wrote, but it also is going to be a downer. Today, we took an hour bus drive north of Cape Coast to a place called Assin Manso. This is not a place that is talked about a lot, because it was a slave trading station. When we approached Assin Manso, I noticed that there were no people around the complex who were looking for tourists to make money off of. That means that a lot less people go to it. This is probably because it is away from the more touristy areas, and it does not hold the infamy that the slave castles hold.

We entered into the comples through a metal gate and were immediately in a courtyard. This was a main trading center where people were sold and then shipped to the castles. It should be noted that most of the people taken into slavery were not from the coast, but rather from northern Ghana and Burkina Faso. These people were transported, often without clothing, for about 300 miles on foot until they arrived at Assin Manso. Throughout the whole journey they would be chained. Many were injured and on the verge of death. To make the captives more appealing, they made the captives bath in a river (still chained), and then they were left out to dry in the sun like one would dry their clothes on a line. A recent search of the river found a ball and chain still there, and I held them for a brief bit. They were heavy, and I felt disgusted that someone at some point was bound to this object and forced into a lifetime of servitude or death.

After they were cleaned, they were brought into the courtyard for exhibition, where they would be sold to the slave castles. At this point, the previous blog should come into play. If they survived both this first journey and then the horrific experience in the castles, then they were placed into a ship on the infamous Middle Passage, and if they survived all of that, then they were bound to a lifetime of servitude. Humans are capable of so much cruelty and have such a horrific potential. I hope that nothing like this ever happens again.

Jon