Til the world explodes...

The Elmina Castle was built by the Portuguese in 1482 and was later taken over by the Dutch, and then the British. It's the oldest European building in sub-Saharan Africa. While it was originally built as part of the gold trade, shortly after construction it became one of West Africa's leading Trans-Atlantic slave trade fortresses, where slaves were held while waiting shipment. It is now a historical landmark, open for tours, and a place where many come to try to reconnect with their roots. Our entire program visited Elmina on Saturday, given a tour by a guide by the name of Ato, who has given this tour to every NYU in Ghana group that's come. We saw various dungeons, the church, the governor's quarters... but the most emotional leg of the tour started with the women's dungeon.

The women were packed into a dungeon, and kept so weak that, while there were pots at the end of the room that acted as toilets, most were too weak to get up and use them, so they laid in feces, urine, vomit and menstrual blood. There were holes in the wall for ventilation, but the "fresh" air from them wafted up from the magazine, where they kept their weaponry, so chemicals from the gunpowder were constantly flowing into the room. The smell from all of this is still strong and sickening in that dungeon today, though, of course, it does not compare to the stench from when the castle was in operation. (The room above this dungeon, by the way, was the church.) The women did get to go outside - when the governor wanted some company for the evening. The governor would stand on a balcony overlooking a courtyard by the dungeons, and from there, he would choose the woman he would rape that night. After she was publicly washed (and molested by various soldiers in the process), she was led up a narrow staircase with a trapdoor to the governor's quarters.

Events like the slave trade, the Holocaust, the Armenian genocide are the things that seem to make the belief in a God that is good and loving impossible. How could God allow something this horrible to happen? Where was God in the hundreds of years this was going on? Where is God now and where will God be in the future where various kinds of atrocities continue to plague the world?

The theological answer is that God gave us free will, so when we create these things, God cannot come flying in on a chariot of fire and solve everything. God cannot stop us from doing things or remove the consequences of our actions. And we are given choice - the most powerful weapon a person can yield, for good or for ill.

Of course, that's a less-than-comforting answer when in the midst of tragedy.

I am not one who is often affected emotionally by remebrance of horrific events. There was a period of my life where I actually wondered at my own humanity, researching the Holocaust and the Spanish Inquisition unperturbed. I maintain a rather thick shell at such things. I remained rather emotionally steady for most of the tour. It was one room that did it - the last room the imprisoned slaves were lead through on their way to the boats. Getting there was tricky itself--the passageways were short and dark. The only light in the room streamed in through a small opening, about one foot wide and four feet tall, called the "Door of No Return". This was the only exit for the slaves - the door leading out to the boats. It was purposefully made to be small so that the slaves had to go through one-by-one and thus there was less chance of anyone escaping.

It is in this room, too, that a few wreaths are left, by those who've returned to remember their ancestors. And it was in this room that we, as a group, stopped to really take in the significance of being there. It was September 11th, and while we may be 5000 miles away, we had heard of the threatened Koran building--we'd heard, mostly while we were all joining in with the end-of-Ramadan Eid ul-Fitr festivities. We are all keenly aware of the various conflicts on this continent, of child soldiers, of piracy. Of the high tensions with all things pertaining to the Middle East, of the fear and hatred spawned by ignorance that pervades much of America concerning the world. Of religions that fail to see the deep underlying similarities between them all.

Where is God?

How does God feel?

What does God do?

God is right there. God was in that room, God was on those boats. And God was weeping. God was furious. The sorrow that God felt then and feels now whenever we, God's creatures, do this to each other - because whatever we do to each other, we do to God. Whatever we do to each other, we do to ourselves. God weeps for the spirits of those under the lash and the souls of those holding the whip. God trembles with rage at the injustice, the kind of tremor I associate with not knowing what to do or of there being no action I can take.

And what occurred to me then was that, somehow, I was standing in a former slave castle in Africa. It's absurd, really, that I've landed here. In many ways, it's absurd that I could get on a plane and be here in 12 hours. It's absurd that I'm now communicating to all of you instantly. It's absurd that our world is so rapidly globalizing that all of this is possible. And that is helping us all and it's also causing problems because we're running into major cultural differences while sitting in our own living rooms. It's absurd that, as I mentioned the other day, I know people all across the US, in Puerto Rico, in Africa, in the Middle East, in Europe, who are all, somehow, working towards a larger goal that we're barely even aware of.

And something I can say for certain is that God works in absurdities.

Here I was, a privileged white woman standing in a former slave castle in Africa. Privileged, for one, to have such freedom of movement that I could be there to begin with. Privileged to have an education that has brought me here. It's difficult to grapple with having such priviledge while living in a developing country, where things that we so often consider to be "essentials", like air conditioning, electricity (not to mention internet), running water, drinkable water, are not consistent or even available in all households. When you see houses where entire families sleep that make hole-in-the-wall tiny studio apartments seem like palaces, it's difficult. I didn't ask to be born where I was, into the situation I'm in, I can't help the fact that I seem to have so much while others have so little... so what do I do about it?

There's a strong concept here that the opportunties you have, you are obligated to share with the rest of the clan. If, for example, someone (especially from a smaller village) goes off to college in America or Europe, they are not getting that education just for their own benefit. They are expected to come back and share that education. You have a responsibility to others to share the gift you've been given. This idea has resonated with me deeply, because I like sharing discoveries, and because it seems to be a more humane outlook than the Western independent, all-for-yourself mentality. And I've thought about that a lot, because I have an opportunity here that most people I know will never have. Most people I know will never go to Africa, let alone live there for four months. Lord knows I didn't get here by myself, so it is a beautiful duty to report back, to try as best as I can to understand and then translate to a different culture.

In the moments I stood in that castle, privileged to be able to be in that room to feel the impact of hundreds of years, it became extraordinarily clear to me that what we have is a gift to be used. It's not that some are given more because they deserve it, or any such nonsense. It's that we are each given things that the rest of the world needs. We cannot exist in a vacuum. No matter how self-reliant we think we are, we all need things outside of ourselves to survive. None of us can be complete on our own - I have something that's of value to you and you have something that's of value to me. We in the 1st world have access to things like clean water, health care, and education that we can share. And the amount of life and joy I have found walking around slums in Accra this past week has been astounding, and the laughter in those 4ftx4ft corregated tin houses puts our flat-screen TVs to shame. We all need each other.

The world is about to explode. Look at trends in history--they're filled with periods of tension and tightness, and then that explodes in social events, art, clothing, music. (Check out the 1890's, then check out the year 1912. BOOM.) In recent decades, the world has been bound, and it's starting to unravel, and culture shock is going to be at the forefront of that explosion. The access we have to other cultures right now is incredible and rapidly expanding, but often it comes in soundbytes and video clips that are too short and isolated for translation to happen. When you go to a country for an extended amount of time, you begin to learn the customs, you begin to understand WHY people do what they do, and then it doesn't seem so alien. But without that context, understanding is nearly impossible, and without understanding, we turn to judgement, and once we turn to judgement, conflicts arise. The world is poised. There will be sounds and shapes and colors you never have dreamed of, but there's also potential for disaster, some of which is already happening.

That is why it is so important that places like Elmina Castle are preserved, because it serves as a reminder to us all. The potential for horrors like these is not long gone--it survives in every moment the human race continues. We have to acknowledge that these events happened, and can happen again - the only way they won't is if we actively work towards understanding and care. We, there, in that room, stood in silence for a moment and broke the silence with the unison vow, "Never again." And in a flash, I saw us all, scattered across the world, and I knew what God does in response to these monstrosities.

God sends us.

God sends Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, athiests, agonstics, all those of varying religious belief and non-belief. God sends people of all races, of all ages, of all nationalities, of all political affiliations, of all sexualities. God sends pastors and directors and accountants and journalists and senators and construction workers and students and children and seamstresses and doctors. God sends people with peace in their hearts, with a fire for justice burning in their chests, with compassion and curiousity in their eyes. God sends people who are imperfect, people who don't understand, people who sometimes reject all of it, humans with weaknesses and needs and desires and sensuality and feeling and mistakes (like, oh, David the Adulturer, Moses the Hesitant, Peter the Denier, the sleepy Disciples). God sends US to work towards the healing of the world and the revealing of the next moment of time.

That's the work that's ahead of us. That's the work that's all around us. It is essential. We are where we are supposed to be; the stage is set. It is our responsibility, it is our joy, it can be our lives if we let it. The Door that was once condemnation has now been transformed into an opportunity for all of us to move forward. The question is; will we? Will we accept that call? Will we work to share what we have learned?

The trip to Elmina was a sobering one for all of us. NYU specifically planned light fare for the rest of the day - a trip to the canopy walk at Kakum National Park, and palm wine and a bonfire on the beach. The park, the beach, were beautiful - almost the cliche "watching the sun set along the beach with the moon and the palm trees" scene. I sat on the rocks and watched the tide come in, singing. To some, it might have been strange to experience such beauty after such horror, but as for me, I wondered at what was more magnificent - the world, or the fact that its salvation has been placed in our hands. Is there anything more terrifying and more beautiful than the fact that God's hope is in us?