LETTER FROM THE NORTH II

Hello again Sisters,

This is yours truly writing from the North of Ghana. As I was saying in my last letter to you, that fateful afternoon of February the 20th was a blessed one. I had this rare opportunity of a free afternoon that I really maximized and visited the crocodiles at Paga as well as the Nania Pikworo Slave Camp.

After driving for barely five minutes from the Paga Crocodile pond we saw the sign post that read Pikworo Slave camp. In fact, we did not see the sign early enough so we by passed the turning and had to do a U turn. On parking we walked towards a summer hut where we had noticed the presence of people. Apparently the two young men under the summer hut had spotted us earlier and were expecting us to make a stop. (In fact the older one at the end of the tour told me that he thought we had aborted the plan to see the place when he saw us making the U turn.)

On approaching the summer hut I noticed an information board so that was the first thing I did. It had basic information about the camp and a request to all visitors to ensure that they take a receipt for the payment of the necessary entrance fee. (Oh my gosh, I just helped corruption, I forget to take a receipt) So I approached the young guys who heartily welcomed us. The lead tour guide suggested that we take a seat under the hut and listened to the story of the camp before we set of for a tour around. So a very heart retching story was told with as little interjection as possible.

Nania means “a place full of cows” which depicts the dense vegetations where herds and herds of cows come to graze, while Pikworo means a place surrounded by rocks. This is a slave camp that played a major role in the slave trade in Ghana. The slaves who were kept here finally ended up either in the Elmina or Cape Coast castles. The slaves had to walk all the way first to Salaga, then onwards to the two exit points of Cape Coast and Elmina, which was the point of no return for most of the slaves. Visiting the camp and hearing the history can be so emotional. One wonders how man can be so inhuman to man.

The story goes that a native of Nania made friends with a Burkinabe and a Malian (Remember Nania is quite close to the Sahel regions) and told them about this wonderful God who made stony plots of land that could be turned into a very profitable venture. Do you know what he had in mind? The trade in humans, thus began the woes of the community of Nania and its neighbouring towns and villages. The town of Nania was strategically placed between the great slave market of Salaga in Tamale and the countries in the Sahel belt. This discovery of the rocky plot was also ideal for their plans for it had some essential elements such as a spring that could serve hundreds and hundreds of people.

Then it was time to take a tour of the place. The first sight that was pointed out to me were these huge trees where the slaves were tied when they were brought in. To prevent the captured slaves from running away they were chained and also tied to trees. We then moved on to the springs within the rocks that provided the much needed life saving water for the slaves. This spring it is said provided all the water needs of the camp, for drinking and cooking. I am wondering, were slaves allowed to take baths? I forgot to ask my tour guide who appeared to be well schooled on issues of the slave trade. We then had to climb to the top of one of the rocks to see the artificially carved bowls in the rock where it is said that the slaves clambered around to take their meals.

Legend has it that when a slave rebelled that slave was given the task of carving a bowl which is oblong in shape and shallow enough to hold enough food to serve about three people out of those hard rocks. The only tool you had was another stone which you had to rub against the rock. This is a very tedious and soul wrenching task in the hot sun. In any case I was told that food was a scarce commodity and that the slave masters were not prepared to waste their money feeding the slaves so they were given just enough food to sustain them till they were sold.

I then had to climb higher to see a natural made “instrumental” rock. Yes, you heard me right, a rock that gives you different sounds when you strike the different parts of the rock with a smaller rock. It is unbelievable but true. While we were still on the rock I saw two locals climbing up one of the rocks,I was wondering to myself, what are they up to? Apparently they are local modern day griots who sing and drum on the stones to entertain visitors. So when we got to this wonderful musical instrument there they were, perched comfortably ready to perform. After my tour guide had asked me to listen to the sounds emanating from the rocks, he politely said to me, “these are local musicians who perform for visitors, we do not charge you for their performance but it is traditional to place some money on them during their performance”. I was not surprised, it happens in most communities including my own beloved Akropong Akwapim. When the fontomfrom performers are at work you always show appreciation by giving them money. So I quickly reached for my purse and said to myself “she who pays the piper calls the tune therefore I must make good use of the music and drumming”. I turned on my dancing shoes and did a good jig for about 10 minutes, all by myself up there high up on some tall rocks on a clear windy afternoon with the sky and a few stray birds as my audience. The drummers were generously rewarded.

The story was told that the area surrounding the wondrous musical stone instrument was called the entertainment arena. Some of the slaves who were adept at drumming and singing were given the task of entertaining the camp inhabitants and the others were forcefully made to dance. The scenery was naturally set so that the musicians were up there and below them was a plain flat plot of land like a school playing field that could conveniently be turned into a dancing floor. My guide told me that most of the songs they were forced to sing were deceitful for the songs praised the slave masters for their good work and thanked the slave masters for giving them a good life. Some of the songs also addressed the slaves telling them how lucky they were for being among the lucky few to be captured and not to be worried because a good life lay before them. After such nights the slaves were given cola nuts as a reward and motivator.

We then descended and moved on to another large rocky platform which was an assembly point for the slave. It was here that the actual trading went on as if they were at the stock exchange. Directly in front of this platform are some high rise rocks where it is said that the slave traders stood and made their pick. I was told that on the day of trading all strong men were lined up at the assembly point chained while the traders stood on the tall rocks making their choices. When a person is chosen he leaves the platform and is lead to the ground below where the actual bargaining takes place. If you do not make it to this platform it meant you were not good enough for their purpose so you were condemned to stay in the camp till you passed on. A person who comes to the camp comes to a place of no return, you are never ever allowed to go back to your people lest you leaked the secret of the “masters”. It is on record that 20% of the captured slaves were women. It is said that the women were mainly used as hewers of wood, drawers of water, cooks and bearers of more people for the “masters” trade.

We then went to the sentinel, the tallest point on the camp. Here, the rocks have been neatly arranged one on top of the other; the sentinel is located at the edge of the range of those rocks. The rocks have been placed besides and on top of each other, there is a huge rock the shape of a neatly cut orange placed at the apex. My first reaction was, this is impossible, no group of human beings can lift and place these rocks one on top of the other especially to this height, so who or what did? Bulldozers and cranes were not available at that time, at least not in Ghana. So the big question is who arranged these rocks? The story about lava and other substances pushing the rocks out of the belly of the earth can hold for all the other rocks I saw at the camp but not this sentinel. Anyway, that is food for thought. My guide quickly climbed up to the top of the rock and invited me up. I was confused “should I or should I not”. It is always good to have an adventure to tell especially after I had woefully failed to scale the Tanoso groove rocks (In the Brong Ahafo region of Ghana, it is a must see and the butterfly and monkey sanctuaries are near by so you get a triple deal) some six years ago. I thought this was a great opportunity to redeem my image. This is not the broadly laid out types of rocks, this is kind of steep as if the rocks were purposely laid one on top of the other for that very purpose. So I started the climb. I conquered the first height, conquered the second, my guide was beckoning me I was contemplating which route to use, I chose to climb a nearby tree, as I approached the tree I said to myself “I better leave this adventure to the new school members” and that ended my adventure to be a sentinel for a minute, the adventure to re live the lives of the guards who guided the slave camps and the masters from rebellious slaves and raiding villages. The guards who risked their lives under the burning sun for twenty fours hours a day just to protect some people’s thirst for money and fame.

Just below the sentinel lay the mass graves for the unlucky ones who lost their lives at the camp. These were usually the lucky one because those who made the journey to the slave market at Salaga and died on the way did not have the privilege of a burial.

At a corner of the cemetery is the punishment rock. The rock is the size of a big stool, with a deep band at the very bottom of the rock. It is said that very stubborn slaves were made to sit on that rock facing the sun with their head lifted up. The sun in this part of the country can be bright and hot, and I mean scorching hot. Their feet are placed one on top of the other and tied to the rock, with their hands also tied behind them. That is not all, the unfortunate victim is beaten till his last breath then he is immediately buried by his colleagues, all in a bid to deter others from rebelling.

This is certainly not a nice point to finish the tours but that was the last memorable monument at the camp, very depressing. Anyway it is always good to be reminded of man’s inhumanity to man so one can be even more determined to fight injustice. So dear sisters there is so much wrong in the world that we need not relinquish in our quest to ensure justice, equality and equity for women for every drop of good work goes to mitigate some of the pain and hurt being suffered by humanity. More grease to your elbows sisters and keep on keeping on. Till we link up again, cheerio


Your sister,

Beatrice