Gorée Island

I think I’ve been promising everyone that I’d write about Gorée Island for days, so below are some of my thoughts…

If I had to sum up my feelings about Gorée , I would simply say that I vehemently disliked it. Not because of what it represents or the way it made me as a human being feel, but precisely because I did not experience any of those emotions. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the island, it lies just off the coast of Dakar (a 10 minute boat ride) and was one of the main ports for the Atlantic slave trade. It is home to the infamous “Door of No Return.” With such a history, you can imagine the kind of mental and emotional preparation I went through in anticipation of my visit. Unfortunately what I was not prepared for was the complete superficiality that has overrun the island.

The first thing a voyager to Gorée experiences is the ferry station in Dakar, crowded with White French-speaking tourists (and a few Americans, to be fair). The only Black people there were Senegalese making their daily trek over to the island to sell their wares to those tourists! After all the excited pushing and shoving to get onto the boat the next thing you will see is the little boys- between 7 and 14 years old- swimming all around the ferry as it pulls up to the dock on the island, shouting to the tourists for coins. Most of the tourists found the bobbing beggar boys amusing. Many threw coins and laughed, thinking it a rousing fun game, and readjusted their designer sunglasses and expensive bags as they exited the ferry for a day of relaxation.

The first place we went was the Maison des Esclaves (The Slave House), a UNESCO World Heritage site, and a building which I thought would be the culmination of my pilgrimage to Gorée. After paying the 500 cfa ($1) to get in I found myself crammed into a room with almost a hundred other White people, and immediately hated the feeling of being lumped in with all the other tourists because I was really there to learn something, not simply to check off a page in my travel guide book. The curator- literally the only Black face I saw in the room- gave a hasty presentation in French while rude visitors chatted loudly and snapped pictures. After the presentation we were left to look around the empty concrete rooms, but the rooms were all patched and pristine and there were so many people clamoring around that it was impossible to imagine or reflect upon the immense meaning of the place I was in. The atmosphere was so nonchalant and disrespectful that I actually wanted to cry at certain moments. What should have been a sacred and pensive place was transformed into nothing more than a tourist attraction.

The rest of the day was spent looking through the two small and unattended museums on the island- the Natural History and Women’s Museums- hiking around the island, which was lined with vendors and artists trying to haggle with tourists (who are always willing to pay their exorbitant prices), and sunbathing on the beach. By the end of the day my head was literally spinning from all the things I had seen and my disbelief that people did not have enough knowledge, respect, or common sense to comport themselves in a more appropriate manner. I left dejected and frustrated, but I have since realized that regardless of my frustration with others, I am grateful to have had the opportunity to visit Gorée Island because its history matters deeply to me.