View of the World (15 page)

From the very beginning it has been commerce that has drawn the European to the Gold Coast, and from this commerce developed one of the gravest social cancers that have cursed the human race – the slave trade. All the maritime European nations, with the exception of the Spanish – Portuguese, Dutch, Danes, British, Swedes and Prussians – at one time or another established strongholds in the Gold Coast, and squabbled among themselves over the rich loot in captives. The English proved to possess most staying power. In recognition of their
straightforward
and efficient business dealings, they finally secured the much sought-after contract for the supply of slaves to the Spanish colonies, held previously by the French and then the Dutch. In the end, over
one-half
of the total slave trade fell into British hands. It has been estimated that between 1680 and 1786, 2,130,000 slaves were exported from the Guinea Coast, as it was then called. The wastage of life was tremendous. Livingstone believed that ten lives were lost for every slave successfully shipped, and even at sea the carnage continued. French ships’ stores, for example, included corrosive sublimate, with which slaves were poisoned when the ship was becalmed in the Middle Passage and supplies ran low (the French defended the practice as being more humane than the British and Dutch one of simply tossing the starving slaves into the sea).

From the very beginning the slave trade was carried on in a
shamefaced
manner, and contemporary accounts by those who took part in it are full of conscience-salving devices. Much was made of the slave’s happy opportunity to be brought into contact with Christianity. Slavers piously presented themselves as the rescuers of prisoners taken in African wars who would otherwise have been slaughtered, making no mention of the fact that it was they, the slavers, who encouraged or even organised
the wars. The slave merchants could be tender, too. ‘I doubt not’, says William Bosman in a letter written in 1700 from the castle of St George d’Elmina, ‘but that this trade seems very barbaric to you, but since it is followed by mere necessity it must go on; but yet [in branding the slaves] we take all possible care that they are not burned too hard, especially the women, who are more tender than the men.’ I have visited this castle and seen the rooms where the slaves were confined and where they were auctioned. What particularly struck me was the delicacy of feeling shown in the old days in the arrangement by which heads of families who had brought some dependant to be auctioned were permitted to watch the proceedings from a chamber overlooking the auction room, where they themselves would not be exposed to the reproachful gaze of their victim.

Bosman, despite his name, was a Dutchman, a man of severe morality and regular habits, who much deplored the intemperance of his English trade rivals entrenched at Cape Coast Castle some thirty miles away: ‘… The English never being better pleased than when the soldier spends his money in drink … they take no care whether the soldier at pay-day saves gold enough to buy victuals, for it is sufficient if he have but spent it on Punch; by which excessive tippling and sorry feeding most of the Garrison look as if they were Hag-ridden.’ The English, Bosman observed, were also much given to a plurality of wives, particularly the chief officers and governors of the castle, while two of the English company’s agents had married about six of the local ladies apiece. This enterprise was the Royal African Company, promoted under a charter granted by Charles II. His Majesty was the principal shareholder in the venture, in which the whole of the royal family invested money. In spite of Bosman’s poor opinion of the garrison a dignified protocol, as befitted a royal enterprise, was observed in all the company transactions. Slaves were branded, as a compliment to the Duke of York, the company’s governor, with the letters ‘D.Y.’ – and the brand used was of sterling silver.

Denmark was the first European power to abolish the slave trade, by a royal order in 1792. The British followed in 1807, although a general European agreement was delayed for another twelve years by the French,
who hoped in this way to gain time to be able to crush the rebellion in Haiti and restock the colony with fresh slaves. The century that followed saw the gradual adjustment of the Gold Coast to legitimate trade, based at first principally on the extraction of gold (the guinea was originally coined from the gold secured from the Gold Coast), and then the cocoa bean. The first cacao tree to be grown is supposed to have been brought from Fernando Po in the eighties of the last century, as the result of the enterprise of a native blacksmith, and each pod is said to have sold for one pound. By 1949 the Gold Coast was producing as much cocoa as all the rest of the world put together. It is now one of the richest areas in Africa, and its total revenue from all sources is about ten times that of the neighbouring republic of Liberia, which has never been under colonial domination. It is a curious illustration of the mentality of nationalism that the politically educated citizen of Ghana now tends to play down the importance of the slave trade in the history of his country. The subject when raised is likely to be changed or to be brushed aside as historically insignificant. The memory is clearly considered derogatory to the dignity of a modern nation.

The emergence of this modern nation could never have been delayed more than a few years, but the fact that the Gold Coast became Ghana in March 1957, and not perhaps twenty years later, is largely due to the energy and the tactics of its leader, Dr Kwame Nkrumah. Dr Nkrumah was born in 1909, said by some to be the son of a market woman, and by others, of an artisan. After a few years spent in the teaching profession he went to America and gained the degree of Bachelor of Sacred Theology of Lincoln University, Pennsylvania, which a few years later granted him an honorary doctorate. When he returned to Accra, Nkrumah took over the nationalist movement, founded a new party, the Convention People’s Party, with its slogans ‘SG’ (Self Government) and ‘Freedom’ (the two syllables are pronounced in Ghana as two separate words). Nkrumah’s tactics began with a boycott on European goods, and from this, rioting and looting developed. Two short prison sentences followed, both of them invaluable to the progress and propaganda of the CPP, and Nkrumah was released from the second of them to become
officially first ‘Leader of Government Business’ and then Prime Minister over a predominantly African team of ministers.

Democracy is liable to be transmuted by the old tribal tradition of government into a parody of what is understood by that word in the West. Political issues are decided not so much by party programmes – which are quite beyond the comprehension of village electors – as by the political personalities involved, and the crowds swarm to the support of the energetic and flamboyant leader. The enfranchisement of the black masses spells the end of the white man’s domination – not because there is any solidarity in colour except an artificial one in the course of creation at this moment – but because the white man cannot compete with the African’s knowledge of native psychology, and cannot in our time, even if he would, play on the African electors’ hopes and fears with the deadly expertness of an ex-tribesman. As an illustration of what is happening all over those parts of Africa where the electoral system has been introduced, a party will often choose as its emblem an animal known for its sagacity and strength – say the elephant – while the opponents may decide on the lion. The election, in the unsophisticated countryside, now resolves itself into a contest between the merits of these two animals. The elephant followers will obviously be unsuccessful in districts where a herd may be running wild and trampling the crops, whereas lion supporters can have no hope of gaining ground in remote pastoral areas where lions still sometimes carry off livestock. African political parties – and this applies not only to those of Ghana, but to the whole of West Africa – change their programmes and their affiliations in such a way that not even a trained student of politics can keep up with them. Their appeal to the mainly illiterate elector must then be simplified to the point of absurdity. The standard of political advancement of the village masses may be judged from the fact that when just before the election Nkrumah and his supporters carried out a perfectly normal animistic ceremony which consisted of formally asking the support of the spirits of the Kpeshi lagoon near Accra, the rumour became general that the Prime Minister had called on the gods to kill all who voted against him. Many electors, as a result of this, abstained from voting. Again in the Ashanti country,
where Nkrumah is not liked, his supporters had successfully spread the report that the Duchess of Kent when she arrived for the Ghana celebrations had actually crowned Nkrumah king of Ghana. Many people say that Dr Nkrumah would like to be not a mere prime minister but a real king – and not a king over Ghana alone, at that. French newspapers published in Dakar report that when, several years ago, he visited a celebrated witch-doctor in Kan-Kan, in the French Sudan, this was the prize foretold when the auguries were taken from the blood of a sacrificed chicken. After the independence celebrations Dr Nkrumah visited Kan-Kan again, but in the meanwhile the old witch-doctor had died, and, as his successor was not yet fully trained, no cock was sacrificed this time. A friend of mine who saw Dr Nkrumah on this occasion noted that he was carrying a copy of Machiavelli’s
The Prince
.

The most frequent charge levelled against the CPP is that of corruption, and even to the casual observer it would seem that many Government functionaries live in a style remote from that made possible by their salaries. By the time I visited Ghana it was said that no man could expect to get on the short list for any Government appointment without a scale payment ‘to the party funds’, while a British senior police official who was staying on, admitted that the length of his service probably depended entirely on how soon it was before he received an order to turn a blind eye on the misdoings of someone in a high place. This general corruption in African politics is excused, even defended, by some observers, on the ground that it is strictly in line with the ancient tradition of the country. Every formal human contact calls for its appropriate offering. When a man leaves on a journey all his friends make him a gift, however trivial, and when he returns he will be welcomed with another small offering. The successful conclusion, in the old days, of an initiatory stage in the bush-school was signalled by a shower of congratulatory presents. A girl expected to receive tributes of beads and cosmetics not only for her wedding, but when she was officially recognised as marriageable. No dispute could be brought for a chief’s adjudication without a ‘mark of respect’ being offered by both parties in the case. One of the worst torments of African travel until very recently arose out of this
necessity of ‘dashing’ every chief one visited on one’s travels, and the problem of disposal of the livestock one was frequently ‘dashed’ in return. When I once paid a courtesy call on an important dignitary living in a remote part of the country where the old way of life was still followed, I was startled after we had shaken hands to be told by the chief that he could not receive me, ‘without warning’. What he meant by this was that I had not given him time to find a suitable ‘dash’, and our meeting must therefore be considered as without official existence. It also meant that the two bottles of beer I had brought for him could not be decently handed over until I had gone. These are the usages of highly complicated civilisation; they are all-pervasive, and when – as at present – the old order breaks down and politicians take over from the chiefs, nothing is easier than the transition in almost imperceptible stages from the ceremonial gift to the outright bribe.

The official jollifications that took place in March 1957 in Accra, it should be stressed, celebrated in reality a situation virtually in existence since Nkrumah became Prime Minister in 1952, so that by the time I visited Ghana the country had been to all intents and purposes independent for several years. The formal take-over was accompanied by all the public junketings one would have expected, but as these were not particularly characteristic of West Africa, I took the opportunity two days before Independence Day to go on a sightseeing trip outside Accra. Hiring a taxi I drove to Ho, capital of Togoland, a hundred miles away. Although it had been feared that the Ashanti minority – many of them were opposed to union with Ghana – might cause trouble at this historic moment, it was in Togoland, in fact, where rioting was actually going on, and to which troops had been sent.

This particular day turned out to be a coolish one. We drove eastwards from Accra along a good asphalted road, shortly, as the road left the coast, entering the rainforest belt. Here opulent woods replaced the parched scrub-lands of the coastal areas. There were frequent giant ant-hills by the roadside, pinnacled like Rhine castles painted in the background of German old masters. I was disappointed to see no animals, no flowers
except a few meagre daisies growing in the verges, and no birds but
turtledoves
and an occasional lean dishevelled-looking hornbill. The African native’s access to firearms has brought about the virtual extermination of all edible animal species in the Gold Coast. It turned out indeed to be a great day in the driver’s life, when later in the trip a hunter offered us a large cane rat – practically the only form of game obtainable in these days. The price asked for this animal was twenty-five shillings. The driver beat the man down to fifteen shillings and told me that it was a bargain at that figure. We passed through nondescript villages plastered with
advertisements
for Ovaltine, Guinness, and Andrews Liver Salts. Africans it seems are easily persuaded to worry about their health. There was a decrepit shack of a restaurant called ‘Ye Olde Chop Bar’, and a drinking saloon called ‘Honesty and Decency’. We met a great number of what are called ‘mammy-lorries’ coming down for the Accra celebrations. These trucks, which are owned by the world’s most prosperous market women, are famous for their names, which – following the principle used in the tabloid headlines – usually attempt to crowd too much information or comment into too few words. The result is sometimes unintelligible to the outsider. We saw trucks with such names as ‘Still Praying For Life’, ‘Trust No Future’, ‘Still As If’, ‘One Pound Balance’, ‘Look, People Like These’, and ‘As If They Love You’. These trucks are driven with abandon, and their wrecked and burnt-out shells litter the roadside. The African brand of driver’s fatalism is even more irremediable than most, due to the fact that the African tends not to believe in the existence of inanimate matter. Trees and rocks are capable of locomotion, so that after an accident a driver – washing his hands of something so completely outside his control – may simply say: ‘A tree ran into me.’