Soccer and Slavery Part II

The island itself was not quite what I expected. Our first stop was the slave house, where the slaves bound for the new world were kept before passing through the Door of No Return. It was haunting to be able to see all of the cells and chains, and realize that Europeans had been living right above the misery. The curator gave a little speech about some of the specifics of the building, then said that while the Holocaust concentration camps are still remembered today, the slaving tradition which lasted far longer and took countless more lives was forgotten. I could see his factual point, but the comparison of human atrocities did not sit well with me. But when he was talking about how slaves from all over West Africa were taken from here, I had a flashback to the elementary school heritage activities. Everyone in my class was either a) a European mix (German/Irish/English/Dutch for me) or b) a recent immigrant. What were you supposed to go on if the only most specific geographical marker your cultural heritage had was a continent?

After the slave house, we visited a museum celebrating the contributions and achievements of Senegalese women. It was one floor of an old home and while cool, was not particularly engaging for me, which very well could have been the sickness. We split up into groups for tours of the island with our cultural guide – I stuck with Fatou, who calls me “Stevens” and says she will always remember my name as I share it with the leading man of her favorite trashy romance novel. However, the groups were “fluid” and it took a lot of effort to keep everyone together. I had to wait 15 minutes at the last museum while Fatou looked for the rest of our group, but I was content to chill in the shade. The History of Senegal was being reconstructed – literally. There were cement bags and remodeling tools all around exhibits such as “The Neolithic Tools of Northern Senegal” and diagrams of fishhooks. Fascinating…

My group stopped at a restaurant whose restroom had a modern toilet – and water pressure – and soap (still no toilet paper, but everyone usually comes prepared now)! Cousin Kalii and I ordered delicious crepes and dug in with relish, though the other group members waited 45 minutes before giving up any thoughts of actually getting their ice cream creations. Jordan attracted a crowd while he was getting cornrows, and I joined a conversation with Fatou about cultural differences in dating. It was a pretty touristy place and we had a lot of delays, but it was still a (reasonably) good day.

Oh, and my host sister and the maid's daughter - they're actually sisters. And my cousins.