Dark Continents

Yesterday, I visited two of the castles that are infamous for the slave trade from West Africa to the Americas. They are the Elmina Castle and the Cape Coast Castle on the southern coast of Ghana.

Walking through the structures is a difficult task. Not because of the roughly hewn stone and brick flooring or the extremely low doorway entrances. Not because of the bats that hang around in one of the rooms in Elimina. Not because most of the place is dark, musty and dolorous -- except the Governor's living quarters which are expansive, airy and ventilated in both castles. The difficulty is posed by imagining the horrors that were perpetrated in this very place by man upon fellow man.

Elmira castle provided slaves for the Portuguese colonials for use in Brazil; Cape Coast did the same for the British colonials in North America. Learning about the grave injustices that were done to Africans by Europeans and Americans is a difficult task. As if being bought and sold weren't enough, the slaves were chained to each other and to cannonballs, handcuffed, raped, beaten, tortured, stuffed into impossibly small quarters, forced to live for days and weeks in their own excrement that often rose to knee-height, and killed by slow starvation and thirst if they dared to try and flee.

Learning about all this made me wonder to which continents the label "dark" more aptly applies. If the absence of the light of knowledge, empathy and the milk of human kindness are any part of what "darkness" implies; it is not Africa that was the Dark Continent. It is us, Americans and our brethren in Europe who should accept our history and meekly accede that it is our continents that were truly dark and unlit.

Homecoming

I traveled to Africa for the first time in late July, 2012.

Flying south from Paris, the air route takes a south-southeast direction. It crosses the Mediterranean and then over north Africa, revealing the Sahara desert as a majestic sight, even from 35000 feet. The stark desolation of the landscape contrasts with the colors of the desert, and the shadows of the clouds as they scurry over the surface.

Upon crossing the sliver of sea and reaching the land, I couldn't help smiling. I am in Africa: in a strange way, this felt like homecoming. I guess our ancestral memories -- having been formed on this continent -- pass through millennia and reassure us when we come back to our one true motherland!

(I wrote this as part of an e-mail to my wife; then decided to publish it after my friend and colleague Cliff Morehead sent me wishes that "the motherland was treating [me] well"!)

Niceness can be a national asset

I visited the Philippines on assignment back in March, 2012. My time there left me searching for apt metaphors and adjectives without recycling cliches.

I found niceness to be a trait that the Filipino nation can rightly lay claim to. Even before I had arrived in the country, I witessed the politeness, patience and friendly demeanor that characterizes the inhabitants of these seven-thousand islands.

It started with the extremely patient flight attendant who kindly explained to a rather irate passenger in the seat across from me why he couldn't have his large handbag blocking the aisle during landing. It continued at Manila airport where three separate strangers took the time to explain the various uniquenesses that an international traveler often experiences. It has continued since then -- in encounters in another airport, at the hotel, at the marketplace, riding public transportation.

Cliches can be problematic, but sometimes they can be pithy distillers of truth. For the Philippines, niceness is a national asset.