Goree Island is located on the great western bulge of Africa, just 3km off the Senegalese coast. It is the nearest point on the African continent to the Americas.
Historically, the Senegalese people called it Ber. The Portuguese renamed it, Ila De Palma. But the name was again changed to Good Reed by the Dutch and the French called the Island Goree – meaning “good harbor”.
They called it good harbor because it reflected the fortunes slave traders made from the Island. But what went on in this tiny island between the 16th and 19th Centuries, when wooden ships sailed from here across the Atlantic, with human beings chained in their holds, cannot in all good conscience be called “good.”
Millions passed through the island, through that “door of no return” you see in the picture, into merchant ships unto slavery. The surrounding waters are so deep that any escape attempt means death by drowning and with a 5kg metal ball permanently attached to their feet or necks, a captured African knew that an escape attempt meant death, even if you were the best swimmer in the world.
Goree is meant to be a tourist destination but this dark history turns most visitors to the island from tourists to teary pilgrims visiting a holy land.
And you know what?
There is a church of God right inside the island with ordained priests that were praying for the “human merchandise” and blessing each voyage in the name of JESUS before the ships departed. Yours sincerely visited the Church out of curiosity. It is a Catholic church established in 1482. I went to the feet of the statue of the Virgin Mary to enquire why she allowed that to happen to the creations of God and took a picture.
We were told by the tour guard how, after loading the manacled slaves into the lower chambers of the merchant ships and ready to sail, the priests will be invited to come and pray, bless and anoint the consignment in the name of Jesus, and the brethren will say a loud Amen and depart; praying that the Lord calms the tide of the oceans and grant them a bountiful sale on arrival. The merchants will then climb the upper deck of the ships, make a cup of coffee and light a cigar, while their fortune ships and voyages coast to gain.
This emotion-laden tour took a weary turn when we got to the slave house. I broke down and was in tears. I could feel the sensation of revenge all over me. There were so many white tourists too around. I was doing all the breathing control I ever learned to suppress that crazy emotion. Then a French lady touched me by the shoulder and whispered in English into my ears, please don’t cry, we are all guilty and sorry. It was so profound. Yet I pushed her hands off me and yelled at her telling her I don’t want to be touched by an enemy. She broke down too and started crying and telling me she wasn’t my enemy. That she came all the way to find out if the horrific stories she has heard were true.
A Senegalese soldier stood by watching carefully to make sure nothing happened. I looked at the lady again while I sobbed, went over to her and gave her a hug. We cried together because we hate SLAVERY. But the church loved slavery and I remember too that there are Bible verses that also support slavery.
But can someone tell me why I should go and pray in that church? To which of the God?
Happy Sunday!
Yours sincerely.
Citizen Agba Jalingo, Publisher of CrossRiverWatch and a rights activist, is a Cross Riverian and writes in from Lagos.
NB: Opinions expressed in this article are strictly attributable to the author, Agba Jalingo and do not represent the opinion of CrossRiverWatch or any other organization the author works for/with.
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