Sureal Experience

This is the entrance to the male slave dungeons. It is by far the most hideous place I have ever stood in my life. The stories, the inhumanity, the screams still haunt this place.
We first meet up with our tour guide and group, it was obvious we were defiantly the minority. I walked down the stairs and then it got very steep. I had to hold onto R for support. It was dark and muggy. The whole dungeon was dug on a slant with a gutter running down the middle and connecting to smaller gutters. It divided into 4 large rooms the first room was completely walled off with a door. The tour guide told us that this is were the trouble makers were so they could not empower the rest of the captives and start a revolt. We stood in the room and the tour guide stood by a mark about 4 feet high on the wall. He told us that when excavators came into the room a few years ago the floor we were standing on was burried 4 feet deep. The 4 feet came in the form of feces and decomposed bodies. They would let men die in here and never remove them. I lost it and turned to R. "I can't do this, lets go" but he put his arms around me and I listened longer. The slant of the dungeon and the gutters were to collect bodily waste and carry it "downstream". However if you happen to be in the lower level you would end up laying in everyone elses waste. He told us how they would put so many men in here, chained together. No light but tiny windows lay about 15 feet up the wall. I looked around at all my fellow tour mates beautiful African faces and could not bring myself to the understanding as to how humanity was so lost.
We walked down to the bottem level of the dungeon. It was obvious that a door use to be present here. It was now a shrine with flowers and objects that must have some great symbolism to some one who felt a personnel tie to this place. The tour guide said that this use to be the door that lead the prisoners to the inner corridor and their march to the door of no return. When slavery was abolished the door was sealed.
Here I am. I small white girl form Utah, far from home in a country called Ghana. I was standing in the midst of Africans who I could see being captive here a long time ago. I was completely taken with them and felt like I had been pushed into the past. The very ground I was standing on held so much pain. I also could not help but feel guilty, guilty of my ancestors ( I have a lot of southern blood in me) who felt that a human life was worthless if their skin was dark.
There was a large African man standing next to me. He asked the guide "Who is at fault for all of this, the white man or the black man?" I wanted to die, my heart beat speed up. The guide said " It is everyones fault. The white man did not need to hunt or seek the African man. Tribes would have disagreements with each other and sell one another to the white man. The Africans made it easy for the white man. Everyone is at fault." Other people began to share comments and I could not believe I was standing here. I humbly followed R as he headed up the steep slope to the light of day. It was slippery and wet from humidity. R always seems to forget his legs are about a foot longer then mine and he walks a little faster then me. I was nervous I could not keep my balance and I would slip. I felt a hand on my back as I approached the stair and turned to see the large African man helping me up. I told him thank you and he smiled at me. A complete gentleman.
After all that has happened in our history between two races He could generously help me up that hill and out of the dungeon. I will never forget that experience as long as I live!

The room that everyone is heading up to was a large ballroom that was actually used for auctions. The slaves were sold for money, goods and guns. A smaller built man would be worth one gun and a larger man would get 7 to 10 guns.

Looking over the wall at the surrounding fishing village