THE RIVER: A STAGE OF THE JOURNEY WINDS TO A CLOSE

The way up to the river was a nice afternoon drive. I was in and out of sleep, leaning on Pierrette when my head got heavy. The driver was bumping a tape of various reggae songs from Bob Marley “who di cap fits...”, to UB40 “red, red wine”.

That location of the river is inland, about 60 KMs from the coast.

When we arrived, the tall stone wall that surrounded the gate struck me. Not because of it’s size and our inability to see beyond it, but it was the paintings that adorned the walls. For about 70 metres, there are various murals that graphically portray the most horrific aspects of the evil trade. One painting was of the incomprehensible pattern of scars on a man’s bare back. Another showed a cruel looking European man with a gun and some captives in chains. From end to end, the paintings were graphic and chilling.

As we entered the gate we were greeted by a young man named Aje, about the age of 25. He is not from the region that the river is in, but he has found it his calling to be there, and to stay there. Most of his family is in the United States, but he feels purposed to be there and to show the place to people.

The tour began in front of the gravesites of two Africans, one that was enslaved and buried in the US, and the woman, the same, in Jamaica/ It was there remains that were returned through Cape Castle, causing the “Door of No Return” to be renamed as the “Door of Return”.

We stood in front of a gate that you can walk through, only if you remove your shoes, and touch the grave stones. The tour was only Pierrette, Sebrina and myself. Aje began with apologizing to Pierrette and to Sebrina for the role that Ghanians who were still on the continent had in turning their descendents over into enslavement. He spoke for about twenty minutes about the beginnings of the trade, the devices employed, and the remaining effects of those tactics. The attention of Aje seemed to shift in focus and his words changed in tone as he spoke words directed to Sebrina and Pierrette, words that were general in nature, and words that were directed towards me. Primarily, the change in tone and who the words were directed towards was based on the ancestry that we each represented in our appearance and lineage.

From there we moved into a school room, where the discussion of mental enslavement and liberation on that same front was discussed. Knowing that the driver we had come with was expecting to leave in one hour, we began our ascent to the river bank.

At the gate that leads down to the river we were joined by Kofi who is an elder. Aje, continued to share a lot about the meaning of different carvings on the doors of the gate, which were of Africans who had a very rough journey through the forests from the Northern countryside down to the coast.

Upon reaching a hill at the top of the riverbank, Kofi took over the tour. He shared with us the details of how people would be brought in groups, chained together, and brought into the calmer part of the river and bathed for the last time on African soil on this, the last leg of the journey to the dungeons of the coastal castles. We were told that the river, from it’s mouth (beginnings) has no human activity done in it anymore. It is treated as a sacred place: a place of remembrance, reflection and reverence.

Speaking from his heart, Kofi brought us from the top of the small hill, to the steep, soft ground of the river bank. The trees were thick enough to shade the area on all sides, yet generous enough to allow healthy slices of blue sky and yellow sunshine into the area. The bank is actually the location where two rivers meet. One of the rivers rushes with a moderately strength width and force. The other, the one reserved for a memorial, is much calmer and smaller. On this bank they meet, the smaller one flowing into the larger one.

Stooping barefoot on the bank beside Kofi, I watched the river flow as Pierrette and Sebrina stepped into the water and used their hands to bathe themselves in it. Feeling a remarkable peace, I noted to Kofi that, “this is a blessed place”.

After sitting for awhile, I asked Kofi if I could step into the water. He nodded and said, “yes”. While there, it was quite a powerful feeling. In attempting to describe what was running through my mind and my heart at that moment, I close my eyes and recall...it was like the place was speaking to the deepest part of me. I was really not aware of anything or anyone that was around me. I was there in person, but I was really somewhere else. I was down the river. I was under the water. I was in another time, a time past. I was in the future too. I was where the water begins and where it ends. I could hear what the sunshine said as it penetrated the water, and what the water explained as it bounced the sunshine into my eyes. I could see the stories of people, and their requests of what we should do from here.

During this time, Sebrina and Pierrette ended up at the water on my right side. Previously, they were about ten feet away on my left side. I did not notice them or what they were doing until Sebrina asked me, “did you see that?”. I did not really respond, but I could feel what they were talking about, like a lifting in the place. But I really was not there. I turned to see Sebrina’s face streaming with tears. Pierrette seemed to be somewhere else also; in the midst of an epiphany that was deepening her being. They had seen something powerful; ancestors reaching out to them, embracing them, and confirming that they are with them.

I continued to gaze into a place of vision, like a day dream; not to say I was seeing something else – I saw the water, the sunshine, the branches and the leaves. I saw the soft breeze moving things and the clouds altering the degree of brightness. I took the water in my hands and I washed the crown of my head, my eyes, my ears, my mouth, my heart and my feet and my hands. After awhile of stopping at the edge of the water, I walked up the small hill.

When I got to the top, I was still in a different zone. I tend to be very aware of what other people are thinking and feeling around me, especially if it is directed towards me. At this point, I can vaguely recollect what anyone else was doing. I felt like I had received a lot, and things had been imparted in me, and awoken in me by the river, but I could feel in my heart like I had something to give. I went down the other slope of the hill, to the right of the bank that we were on initially. This side of the hill is solely on the larger river.

I went down to the bank and I touched the water. At that moment, realization and revelation began to flow through me just as the water was passing by. I felt like Moses, when he heard God speak in the burning bush. There was a moment where I looked through a very tall tree into the sky, and I could see God’s smile, I could see his plan, I could see reconciliation. I saw a piece of the bigger picture, and of all things turning to testify of His glory. I was amazed. To look where it seems you can see nothing good, and to see a glimpse of it becoming glorious, like Common’s album title, “One Day It’ll All Make Sense”.

God showed me a lot about why things happened. He also showed me things about my destiny, and why he made me who I am. I saw confirmation of a glimpse of my role in the ‘grande scheme of things’.

All these crimes happened because of money / chasing resources. Moment by moment, decision after decision founded upon and motivated by greed, added up to what became. Greed at the cost of rewriting history, at the cost of replacing truth with lies, at the cost of deeming humankind as capital and developing a devilish doctrine based upon a murderous mythology of “virtuous intentions”, “divinely appointed duty”, and a “inferior / superior binary” – none of which really existed. History, a gift southern Europe was given by the civilizations of Northern Africa: Kemut, Ethipoia, and the Moores, became a weapon.

Some of the most savage conditions ever created, and practices that remain among the most brutal treatment in humankinds shadowy existence were done by those who painted themselves as “civilized”. And why did people treat people as they did? Why did they rewrite history? They did not think Africa was inferior, they knew it wasn’t and spent centuries convincing the world that it was...and is. How could people live in the conditions of that holocaust of an industry founded decimation? And put other people through that and sleep? To do that and eat? To do that and live with yourself? Money. They did it for money. The proof is in our world today.

Why is it that millions die from malaria, why millions starve, why millions are stuck between fighting factions that they have little or nothing to do with? Why do nations stand aside as people die? Why are the poor of South Africa worse off economically than they were under apartheid while the wealth of the nation continues to be funneled into foreign private interests, resulting in widespread suffering and poverty...and a murder rate having you twelve times more likely to be a victim of homicide as a South African citizen than if you live in America (also known for an unusually high murder rate). Money.

It’s not what money does, as much as what people do for it. However, it does facilitates a system that allows something like 5% percent of the globe to control 90% of the planet’s resources.

So, I sat by that river, and I saw that people of the same complexion and nationality as me came to this place and destroyed peoples lives for money. In my pocket was a Ghanian coin, it is golden in colour and worth 500 cds (which is about 13 cents Canadian and can be an orange here). On it is a picture of a shell that was used as currency before the coin system.

I felt guided to place the coin in the water, and it was symbolic. Reparations, the return of what was taken. The word came into my heart, “it begins with you”. Not me more than anyone else, but that is the case with everything and everyone: it begins with you.

I recount being in Senegal and standing in ovation of a young man from the Congo who interrupted the UN Youth Forum to address his European colleagues who kept referring to the issues on the continent as “African problems”. He asserted that, “Africa does not need your help in fixing her problems. Any problems that are here are yours too, just as the abundance you may have there is ours too”.

I recount the charge that I, and those I attended the various castles of the evil trade – from Senegal to Ghana – that I have seen, which is to take personal responsibility that such atrocities never occur again.

I add that, if not us, then who? How do repairs occur without reparation? How is forgiveness established without repentance?

At the river, I saw more. Some of it I have yet to articulate, as I saw it, felt it, but could not comprehend it. One day it will all make sense, and the only thing that makes sense is love. One day it will all be love. For now, we are not there yet; at times, it seems we are very far from that.

As I walked away from the river, I gave thanks. I trailed behind everyone else, and I waited as Aje had some things to share with Pierrette and Sebrina. After a good while, we proceeded to the taxi and returned to the coast. The ride back was filled with moments of silence and with conversations.

One of the moments that had been foreshadowed earlier that weekend was when Pierrette said the she “had to confess” that there were times where it was hard for her to have me there and times where – by virtue of my European heritage – that she felt that I should not have been there, and that I imposed upon her experience. Sebrina expressed that she had felt the same thing at times.

As they shared this with me, I listened. I was grateful for the honesty. None of us knew what we were going into, and what we were going to experience as the weekend came together. That was the first thing I shared with them. I then explained that I followed the guidance in my heart. When they each took off their shoes and walked up to the graves of ancestors returned from the west to the east, I stood back, as I did not feel guidance to do the same. When they wanted photographs with Kofi and Aje, I took them. I was not in any photos at the river. I carried the water that I had no intention of drinking, in case they were thirsty. Before I stepped into the water, I asked permission from the elder who oversees the place.

There were too many “what are the chances of that” for our being there together to be an accident. I have seen God’s touch grace everything about being here.

How would I feel though? If I was in a place of reconnection, knowing that my history and parental history, and grandparents history was from another land because these things happened, and then I was there with someone (while a friend) whose ancestry is the same as those who perpetrated the crime that forced this Diaspora. I also wonder, if some of the people that are the closest to me in this world...Chinedu, Gordon, Denice were there with me, how would they have felt towards me? What about people who really love me, Wendy-Anne, Joanne or Sharifa? How would they have felt if we were there together?

Having spoken about it was good though. I have told a few people close to me that the things that have caused me the most pain in my life have been instances where people I care about hide the truth from me in an attempt to avoid hurting my feelings. The truth always feels better, because it’s true. When you know what is true, then you are in tune with reality. In the words of my brother, GC, “a liar is worse than a thief; while a thief steals your property, a liar steals your reality”.

After speaking about this, we made our way back to the Almond Tree Resort contending with an unexpected, though we were not surprised, squabble with the driver who wanted more money because our time at the river exceeded an hour. Two notable things happened surrounding this. We had passed through a bunch of police check-points over the weekend without an issue. Yet, as soon as he asked for more money from us, an officer pulled us over at the check point and confiscated his insurance papers (which were not up to date). It was literally right after he asked. When we got to the resort, and he refused to leave unless we paid him more, Pierrette eventually gave him more money, but for a moment, his car wouldn’t start. The thing was both Pierrette and I had it in our hearts to offer him something more for the extra time...it was a good lesson. God will give you what you need.

We ended the evening with a nice dinner at the shell restaurant (fried fish again). I was grateful to share with them some things that I had seen in them over the weekend and to learn more about where they each were brought to at that moment through this experience.

Sebrina stayed back with Ngoma, while Pierrette and I headed back to Cape Coast. While it was drama getting a cab (from 50,000cds to 15,000cds), we eventually made. Oh, I left my phone in the back seat of the cab and had to pay 60,000cds to get the driver to come back with it...and 32,000cds to use the hotel phone to call me phone...but it’s all good, because God is my provider!

At the hotel “Enemy of the State” was on. Pierrette enjoyed that, as she had missed her husband (Will Smith...that’s between her and Jada...and whoever else). I knocked out while she was watching something else after the movie.

In the morning, after getting the hotel manager (acting manager) to give us free breakfast after our bathroom light was never fixed, room not tidied, and towels not replaced...among a couple of other things, Pierrette and I headed to the bus stop.

Actually, I went to the bus stop, as Pierrette was going to head down to the bank, as our respective buses (she to Accra, me to Tamale) came at different times of the morning.

Before she left I shared with her the feeling that I had of being unwelcome around her at times, which I did not understand as I felt I had given the best of everything I had (mentally, emotionally, financially, etc). She ensured that she expressed that she was thankful for that, and explained that sometimes she withdraws, especially when something as challenging as seeing all that she had encountered with me arises.

She headed to the bank, and I felt I had at least said what I felt. I also believe that she did not intend to make me feel such a way.

Timing again, was beautifully orchestrated. She had thought about what I said on the way to the bank, and I was still waiting for my bus (which was late) when she arrived. She shared with me a very warm expression of gratitude and a very open confession of honesty about her personal growth.

We departed ways knowing that God had done something amazing in bringing our paths together on this life change portion of the destiny opening journeys that we each are on. Incredibly, Sebrina was a major part of that for the each of us, and we too for her.

I took my twelve hour bus ride (sitting beside a man too big for his seat, so he had to share mine all the up) and returned to the north. It was actually nice to return to Tamale. Only a few weeks here, and I have a spot for the city in my heart already.

One thing I need to add is in regards to a comment that Pierrette made. She was speaking about communication barriers and recalled telling her classroom of Kenyan students that “life is like a roller coaster”. They didn’t get the analogy, because they didn’t know what a rollercoaster was (which really isn’t a big deal, because how many of you know what a tro-tro is?...or knew what one was before you came to Africa?). Anyway, as my bus raced through the hilly roads of northern Ghana, passing trucks as if we were driving in a Honda Civic, I thought of Pierrette’s words. Ladies on the bus screamed, men laughed and children fell and cried as the sudden drop down the paved slopes gave that rollercoaster feeling in our guts. They may not know what I’m talking about if I said ‘life is like a rollercoaster’, but they would get the point it if I said ‘life is like an STC bus’.