Goree island, the door to hell | Senegal Travel Blog

Senegal is a karmic country, it nails us to our collective responsibilities. Everyone should go, to understand what it feels like to be looked at with mistrust because of skin color. Everyone should listen to the stories of this people, which tell us about violence and oppression. A bitter bite that we have a duty to digest.

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First impact with Senegal

I land in Dakar with my fellow travelers, with the intention of spending New Year’s Eve in the lands of mother Africa. We are visibly happy to meet and spend a week together.

As soon as we arrive at the hotel, we are welcomed by a guide who speaks Italian. He spent part of his life in Italy, then returned home and opened a company that deals with tourism. “Beware of pickpockets”, he says immediately. “The Senegalese are very clever, they are more Neapolitan than the Neapolitans!” He says it with such naivety that nobody dares emphasizing the offensive nature of the joke.

“And don’t be afraid if children come up to you to pinch your skin,” he continues. Here, parents tell their kids that white people get red skin if they are rubbed or pinched. Children say it is impossible. It doesn’t happen to us. So they might approach you to experience the thing in person”.

Goree, colonial island

We pick up a bus and drive to Goree, a small island that is 3 km from the port of Dakar. We know the sad story of the place. Nevertheless, we are full of good humor. Perhaps we think we can observe everything with a serene detachment; instead we are about to receive a painful punch to the stomach.

We sail from Dakar and a ferry takes us to the island in about twenty minutes. On the beach, children play ball and have fun doing a thousand somersaults and dives. The narrow streets, colored by the walls of the old French colonial houses, are full of stalls. The island is charming and decadent, crowded with tourists walking the streets with a carefree attitude.

"Ask for permission before taking a photo"

But as soon as I try to take a picture to catch a postcard glimpse, a harsh voice scolds me.

“Don’t photograph my son. He’s not an object!”
I turn suddenly, to my surprise. A young woman is approaching me with a stern gaze.
“If you want to take a picture, ask permission first,” she continues. I explain I did not want to take the picture of his son. I wanted to capture a general view of the street.
“You tourists must have respect“, she insists. “If you want to take a picture of my son, ask him first”.
A little lost, without knowing what to say, I reply “I am sorry. I didn’t want to disrespect”.
I see a smile drawing on the corners of her face. This young woman relishes the satisfaction of making me understand that this is her land. I’m just a guest, and I have to follow your rules.
“All right. Take a picture,” she chuckles.
She picks up her son and poses for me. I take a few pictures and leave in a daze.

The inhabitants of the island are the heirs of a resoundingly unjust past. They live to pass on the memory. No wonder they have such mixed feelings towards foreigners, especially white people.

Goree island and the slave trade

Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1978, Goree is located in the westernmost part of Africa.

This has made it a sadly strategic place for the slave trade. In fact, millions of African men and women left from here, kidnapped in their lands and deported to the United States to work in the cotton and sugar cane fields.

Here the French, Portuguese and Spanish colonialists bargained their price and carried out terrifying practices to sever their last yearnings for dignity. Already deprived of their freedom, here they had to lose all hope of regaining it. And it was necessary that it be so, in order to avoid the rise of revolts on board the ships.

It is said that the United States of America originated from the island of Goree, because without the labor force of African slaves the Americans would not have had the ability to create their powerful economic empire.

Visit Goree's House of Slaves

The local guide takes us to the House of Slaves, an old private residence of a French slave trader. At the entrance, two large horseshoe-shaped staircases lead to the first floor, where the slaver’s family lived. But before going up, the guide invites us to visit the ground floor.

“These were the cells where slaves were chained. This room was for men, this room was for children. They lived under the master’s house but did not have the same comforts. They remained here 3 months, crammed like beasts, never going out or washing, until they reached the optimal weight to be able to face the journey. If they got sick and died, they were thrown into the sea. The waters were infested with fat dogfish.

This was the women’s cell. Slavers often came to rape them. The lucky ones got pregnant. Unable to make the journey they remained here as servants. But many of them died from vaginal infections. They were fertile women, deprived of basic toilets”.

The guide speaks with a lot of emotion. Sometimes he can’t contain his anger and we start to feel really uncomfortable. In the basement of the two staircases, we notice two narrow closets. The guide points them out. “These were the cages for the rebels. They are about a meter high. You can not stand there and it’s too narrow to lie down. If someone resisted or became harassing, they were locked up in here. Their screaming and moaning were a useful deterrent for everybody else.”

Goree, three centuries of horror

For over 300 years, until 1848, Africans were deprived of their dignity as human beings. They were kidnapped, deported, sold as cattle.

The traffickers did not recognize any blood ties and separated wives from husbands, mothers from children, selling them individually to the highest bidder.

“The people who lived upstairs were human beings. Do you agree?” continues the guide. “And according to you, the slaves who lived down here weren’t human beings too?” I can’t answer. I have a knot in my throat. I look around me, looking for comfort in the eyes of my friends. But everyone has shiny eyes and, like me, they try to hold back tears.

“About 20 million slaves were shipped to the United States. And it is estimated that another 6 million died before arriving there. 26 million healthy people of working age who could use their energies in Africa and build a better future for their children.

Everyone knows the events related to the Holocaust. In 12 years 15 million innocent people were exterminated. These figures make an impression because of the short period of time in which the Third Reich carried out its insane project. Few, however, have deepened the history of the African slave trade, even if it had greater proportions”.

Goree, the door of no return

Behind us there is a door to a narrow corridor. The guide invites us to follow it to the end. The door opens directly onto the Ocean.

“This is the door of no return, which led the slaves aboard ships. This is the last step they took on African soil”.

We take turns looking out the door, as we are told that the last face the slaves saw was that of another armed slave who forced them on board. “The slaver used the already tamed slaves to control the newcomers, so that it was clear to all that on this island they had no hope of escape”.

Looking out at the door of no return, at the end of this narrow corridor, I find myself side by side with our guide. Our looks meet and I feel the need to apologize. “It wasn’t your fault,” he replies. Then why do I need his absolution?

“Before I greet you, I would like to tell you that Africa is great. So great to forgive. We forgive what has happened, but let us not forget it. And we must not forget that it was also our responsibility. Many Africans got into business with slavers. They sold their brothers from neighboring tribes. They delivered them for little money. We all bear responsibility for what happened. And we all have a duty to remember, so that it never happens again”.