Osakwe S. Beale Africa The thing that will always stand out in my mind in our trip to Goree Island. Upon reaching the island by ferry its fun filled exterior hid the intense insides that would soon be revealed to us. Although we were all told where we were going on the island I donÕt think any of us actually knew what it was we were going to see, and the sight of happy kids jumping into the water did a good job to get rid of any negative thoughts about the island. We were all greeted by who we were told was going to be our tour guide. He told us the same thing that we had been hearing all along, that by visiting this place we were getting back to our roots and finding out our heritage, he gave no clues or warnings to the sights we were going to see. We sat down to have lunch after which we all joined on the beach to skip rocks not even thinking that these were the same waters that our ancestors had sailed upon years before. IÕm not sure of the correct order of events but as far as IÕm concerned itÕs not important whether we played basketball and then had our lives changed forever or the other way around. When we reached the slave castle I noticed some of the adults looking very emotional but not knowing why. From my point of view we started from the left side and worked our way behind the two staircase that arched toward the middle of the second level. The first room was said to be the holding room for the men. The room looked a little larger then my bedroom. To hear the emotion in the translators voice i felt I should be getting choked up but for some reason i didnÕt. I forget the number the translator mentioned for the number of men packed in the room but let it suffice to say that the number said was definitely more than the worst I would have imaged. The men were allowed out once a day to handle their needs, and that was if that person cared enough to let them. The next room we were led to was the room where children were kept. That was the last room I remember on the left side. We them reached the middle which would prove to hold the most meaning part of the trip for me, the point of doorway of no return (this is in bold because I feel whoever reads this needs to know the full impact of the words.) When we were told what we were looking at, with the door closed, it seemed to have no effect on me as soon as the door was opened realization struck like a rock. Standing in middle of the path leading up to the door my emotions swirled in side of me and once again I wondered why I didnÕt cry or show any outward emotion. I truly understood the meaning of the name given to the doorway. Just looking straight you could see the Atlantic ocean, probably the same way our ancestors saw it our ancestors saw it years ago. Upon going closer one could see that it was truly a point of no return with a few rocks right below and then the ocean. Looking out at the ocean the translators voice barely reach my ears as I heard him say something about that being the point where they were never to their homeland and their voyage to be stripped of their African culture. I clearly remember myself thinking, damn ...., this is what my people had to go through ...... Ō We were then allowed to walk around by ourselves. I chose to go upstairs where the translator had said the slavers lived in luxury, sleeping at night over the heads of probably hundreds of African. Leaning over the balcony upstairs I felt an anger inside of me that just took over, I wanted to just punch the wall until I couldnÕt anymore. We then all gaterhered in the corner where we were all shown some of the shackles used. Our leader then announced it was time to go. Once outside the castle I put on a pseudo-happy face to try to and cheer the others up, I then stopped , realizing that maybe i am everyone else needed to feel whatever emotions they had. While leaving, once again the islandÕs happy exterior masked the important insides.