Goree Island

I arrived in Dakar early Wednesday morning, greeted by two good friends. There aren't too many people I know who would pick me up at the airport at 5 a.m., and I sure appreciated it. After a quick rest, I met the rest of our group, and we headed to Goree Island.

Goree Island is a place off the coast of Dakar where people were kept before being forced on ships, destined for a life of slavery. It's a heartbreaking place. The unspoken question resonates: How could people do this to each other?

But there's also a frisson of hope running through the streets and buildings. As we walked through the hallowed halls of the slave house, the sheer effort it has taken to keep this place intact hit me. So many people work here to make sure the world never forgets. So many people visit here to make sure they don't forget themselves. It's a sign of hope.

See more images from Goree Island here.

On this first day for me, a theme emerged that would continue throughout the trip: meeting familiar friendly people. This day, it was on the ferry to Goree Island. My buddy Mary had told me of a vendor she had met the week before on the ferry, who had identified herself as "Cindy Crawford." Mary counseled her to use her real name with visitors, which was Adan. So when I was onboard, and a woman approached me and asked if I would visit her shop on the island. I asked her name, and she said "Adan." I asked her if she used to be called Cindy Crawford, and a knowing smile crept across her face.