During my eight days I’ve been looking to see what will move me to write, and I have more than enough material, but there have been three events that have stood out to me.
Since childhood I’ve experienced motion sickness whenever I sit in the back of any moving vehicle: car, plane, bus or train. Due to my height, 6’2”, I was able to negotiate for the navigator’s seat upfront. During our trips I’ve noticed the drivers of cars, vans, okada, and motorbikes; as well as walking people and animals (goats and chickens) moving fluidly without drawn lines in perfect harmony. Of course you heard the honks and saw the flashing lights that either meant pass or hold up, which is a whole other way to communicate.
While on our visit to Assin Manso I was honored to walk the path of my ancestors barefoot as they did. I was honored to have stepped into the waters that they once used as their last bath and during that time I stood and listened to the water. The water, which was peaceful, has been known to be violent at times and I thank the Most High for the this opportunity. Water has always taken the shape of whatever object that tries to contain or hold it. My use of the Ancestral River was to send prayers and ask for blessings on behalf of my ancestros who can no longer ask for themselves. As I laid my leaf into the river I saw how it was carried, I heard how the water sped up and then slowed down like an excited person’s heartbeat calming down.
Finally, I would Ike to highlight my beautiful Ghanaian colleagues who have shown us Americans how to be fluid when it comes to our “Planned Itinerary”. They are some of the most laid back, easy going people I have been blessed to be around. In America we get so consumed about schedules and being at certain places at specific times you can lose the beauty that’s right in front of our eyes. We lose the humanity that’s within us because many of us are rude and callous. I want to thank mi w)fa TeTe, mi baas - Phoebe and Olivia (Liv), mi b33mas - Dela, Eric, Kwasi, and Seth for being the teachers we needed. I thank them for their patience and understanding; they are such kind souls and they deserve all the recognition thrown their way even though they will be gracious and deflect. Me Dor Wo
My prayer in the dungeon at Cape Coast Castle
Eternal Spirit,
God of Justice and Mercy,
We come before You today with hearts heavy and humbled,
Standing on the sacred soil of Cape Coast,
At the foot of Cape Coast Castle—
A place where pain once echoed through stone and sea.
We remember the souls taken from this land,
Mothers and fathers, daughters and sons—
Names lost to time but never forgotten in spirit.
We honor those who walked through the Door of No Return,
Stripped of their homes, their languages, and their freedoms,
Yet never stripped of their dignity or divine worth.
May their cries never be in vain.
May their suffering stir in us compassion that moves beyond words,
Love that heals across generations,
And empathy that sees all people as kin.
To the ancestors, we say:
We see you.
We feel you.
We carry you.
For every child who never saw their homeland again,
For every elder whose wisdom was silenced by chains,
For every dream buried beneath waves—
We offer our tears, our prayers, and our commitment to remember.
Yet even in this sorrow,
We lift our eyes to the horizon with hope.
For out of this legacy of loss,
We rise with renewed purpose.
May we, the descendants and inheritors of this story,
Build a future rooted in justice, truth, and liberation.
May we walk boldly in the light of our ancestors,
Turning memory into movement, pain into purpose,
And brokenness into a more beautiful world.
Guide us, O God,
To be restorers of what was stolen,
Healers of what was wounded,
And dreamers of what can yet be.
In Your grace, may we never forget.
In Your love, may we always rise.
Amen.
Asé.
So it is.
Idris Abdul-Aziz, Humanities Department Chair, teaches AP African American Studies, Honors and World History Blended at Millbrook International Baccalaureate High School in Raleigh, North Carolina