“I am here because I want to ensure that history does not repeat itself,” said Mr. Eloi Coly, curator of the House of Slaves Museum on Gorée Island. “This is a memory island today to honor the people who lost their lives in the slave trade and create a path towards reconciliation and understanding,” he continued. The island, 4 km long off the coast of Dakar in Senegal, was once the largest slave-trading center on the African coast and the final point of no return before the journey to the Americas. Today, as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it is indeed a place to remember the legacy of the treacherous Transatlantic slave trade and honor those who came before.
Located on the West African coast, the island was a strategic point for the trade of enslaved Africans beginning in the 1440s for the Portuguese, English, Dutch, and French, who all sought control over the island. While exact figures are disputed, it is presumed that over a million enslaved individuals came through the island before being transported to the Americas and sold at auctions across the colonies.
The Arrival at Gorée Island
The first view I had of the island was from the rickety ferry boat that had left the port of Dakar. Today, it is home to 1600 inhabitants, who live amongst colonial buildings and historical sites that carry the weight of human cruelty and hatred, now a symbol of understanding the past to look toward the future. Getting off the boat, I walked along the pier to the small beach in front of colorful colonial buildings, where an eerie feeling clouded the island as soon as I stepped onto it.
The typical French-style buildings sat quietly against the backdrop of the statues and memorials for the people who were transported through the island. While it is under the protection of the United Nations, many buildings are falling into disrepair behind the reconstructed façades, and rising sea levels threaten its coastline.
Our first stop was the historic museum, situated in the old Portuguese fort that the colonial forces used to “protect the island” and fought over its control. In the middle of the round courtyard, we sat in red plastic chairs and listened to the story of Senegal long before the Portuguese arrived and colonization began.
A Visit to the House of Slaves
The House of Slaves, once the place where all captured people were held before being shipped off to the Americas, offers a unique and heartbreaking perspective on the transatlantic slave trade. It flips the modern narrative of museum decolonization upside down, representing the legacy of colonization from the perspective of the ex-colonized African nations. Rather than needing to deconstruct colonial perspectives, the museum already challenges visitors’ preconceptions about Africa and the narratives of its people.
Strategically built along the coast with access to the ocean, the House of Slaves contained two floors: the lower contained the grim, dark rooms where enslaved Africans were held, and the upper was a luxurious space for the slave traders designed in French-style architecture. In the lower rooms, signs encouraged visitors to take a moment to reflect in honor of those who were here, with an opportunity to partake in a libation ritual.
Standing in the small courtyard between the staircase that led to the upper floors and the dark, cold rooms of the lower floors, I listened to Mr. Eloi Cloy’s stories. As a visitor, I could walk in and out of the rooms, yet millions here could not. This was the last place they saw of their homeland, and I could not begin to imagine what they felt in these rooms.
There was a feeling of heaviness and heartbreak in every visitor who stood and listened, as he gazed out at the Door of No Return and said: “That is the place Africans last felt their identity, culture, family, and sense of self.” The door was the pathway from the building to the pier, where they were forced to board ships and never return. It is situated at the end of a dark hallway leading from the courtyard, which looked directly out onto the bumpy waves and ships in the distance.
Indeed, Gorée Island is now a pilgrimage site for the African Diaspora community. The museum’s curator described the resilience of the African people facing their journey to the Americas: “When we sing, we remember where we are from and who we are. We never forgot our home.” It has a unique relationship with African American visitors, as local guides repeatedly said “Welcome home” and told them stories of their ancestral lands.
Rooted in the goal of being a “sanctuary for reconciliation,” I noticed the museum’s message makes social change and activism essential. What I admired about it was also its focus on engaging with visitors of European descent, by placing plaques with questions such as “What places should be sites of conscience in your country?” It made me think of cities like Rio de Janeiro, New Orleans, or Baltimore, which have hidden histories beneath their remodeled harbors, now home to restaurants, cafes, and nightclubs.
My perspective on history
After a walk through the island to see the crumbling buildings that today are awaiting funding from UNESCO for repairs and heritage restoration, we boarded the ferry back to Dakar. The first step onto the boat felt heavy, thinking of my freedom to choose how and when I leave, when so many here could not. It made me think of the horrendous past that colonialism has brought to these lands, and the continuous legacy that it left behind, as many nations still struggle with international extraction and exportation of African resources and wealth.
The visit to Gorée Island shifted my perspective on history and on how stories like these must be told from multiple angles, not just European ones. While European/colonial narratives made their way into our textbooks and media, it is essential to flip the script and teach this history from an African perspective.
