I can't believe this is two months ago already. In September, I spent three weeks in Jamaica, learning to experience and to love the people, the nature and most importantly the culture of Dancehall. When we didn't dance - which was practically all day - we made day trips to different places. One of the trips was a beautiful little journey to the Blue Mountains. It was raining season, so after the rain poured we could enjoy the special mood and view over the whole city. It was amazing.
The beach where the Cape Coast Castle is located, one of the most touristic places in Cape.
Only the facades of the Castle were white and pretty. It told the stories of millions of slaves, maybe some of my ancestors, who were raped, tortured or murdered here.
The officials lived in a beautiful room with this view over the beach, played games and drunk all night while human beings suffered a few meters beneath them.
After the slaves passed this gate, they were sold and shipped to different places never got back to Ghana to see their family again.
We climbed and old tower that served as a watch and defending point for the colonizers. The view was amazing - to see how the architecture is far more than little shantys but really komplex buildings.
The canals were often just beside the street and I prayed not to fall into these little garbage rivers.
We had the pleasure to experience the Cape Coast Festival and this was shot on Orange Friday.
Everyone wore orange, there was a huge roadmarch and like on the days of the one-week-festival, a lot of music and dancing.
On the last day, there was a traditional roadmarch where the chiefs and their entourage came with lots of dancers in traditional clothes.
They were all extemely shocked to see...
...one of these men on stilts passing a little child to another one.
Soundsystems, afrobeats, all day all night, everywhere you go.