About six months into my year there, I'll never forget sitting at lunch with a European woman working in Ghana who said to me, "I pity these people. They have no real food, no real culture and no real language." I was dumbfounded that this woman had lived in Ghana for eight years and had come to this horrific conclusion. I'll save my thoughts on racism, prejudice, neocolonialism and ethnocentrism for later. Right now, I'll share my own insights about what I learned while living there among the people.
The best advice I received before I got to Ghana was to throw away the urge to make value judgements based on being an American. That value system does not work on the African continent, and if I was to be open I would discover why. And so I did that. I reminded myself repeatedly as I experienced the Asante culture living in Kumasi to be as Auntie Bea told me, "like a child who walks into a room - mouth shut and eyes wide open."
In southern Ghana, there are 6 major peoples that make up the Akan Society - the Asante in the area of Kumasi and Mampong north of Accra, the Akim in Oda, the Fante in Cape Coast, the Kwahu near Nkawkaw, the Krobo near Koforidua and the Akwapim in the hills near Aburi north of Accra. These different peoples established a federal organization as far back as the 11th century, bound by oral traditions. Their languages were not written ones, but everything was carefully recorded to memory by Linguists who are part of the royal court, entrusted with the preservation of the people's histories, lineage and cultures. Additionally, there is the Ga people who migrated to the Accra area hundreds of years ago from the area now known as southern Nigeria and the Ewe people were split by the arbitrary colonial border set up by the British and French between Ghana and Togo.
The fabric of this federation was held together through a rich culture. It does not separate our lives in this world with the souls of the Nananom Nsamanfo in the afterlife; the Ancestors of our family who have left for the next world and watch out for us. It is a culture that believes that each person is a member of a community and individuality is subordinate to the community's well-being. It treats women and men equally in status in society, as most Akan peoples trace heritage and inheritance matrilineally. It holds true to the belief that children are the greatest gift that any of us can be blessed with and our community roles are to be as custodians for God, raising those children for Him. And it is a culture that understands that the burden of everyone's life is borne collectively by each of us, and we have a responsibility to take care of those around us so that we are never alone in this world.
Annie once told me that there is an Akan proverb that states, "The African wakes up with the name of God on his lips." This describes my entire experience with these kind and gentle people. Much of my understanding of their beautiful, rich, noble and holy ways came largely through my studies in the Art Department at Tech, studying Adinkra symbols, kente cloth and waxprint cloth-making.
To be greeted in the morning I'd hear, "Menua Yaw! Me ma wo akye! Wo ho te sen?!" Ghanaians don't just say good morning like we do. They say with an open and loving heart, "My brother Yaw! I bring you light! How is your spirit?"
I met Akwasi on the same night I met Nana Boateng. We both have the same stature, kind of on the short side. But his presence and his incredible intellect intimidated me. It was as if he was the biggest person in the room, until I got to know him better. He came from a humble background in Kumasi, born to a big Asante family and the first in his family to go to the university. He and I understood what this was like, having to navigate through the education system with no assistance or advice from our parents since they were not educated. And for an intellect like Akwasi's, he didn't take on just any discipline. He was a medical student. While Nana and I would get excited talking about oil pastels, paints, dyes, charcoal, light and shadows, Akwasi would light up telling us how hemoglobin worked with the respiratory system to oxygenate blood, or he would recite from memory every muscle in the human body. He had a passion for medicine.
He invited me once to Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital, where he did his clinical work assisting in the maternity ward. During the 1980's, medicine and medical supplies were hard to come by in Ghana so doctors were more like miracle workers, especially with the delivery of babies when mortality rates were high and it was almost impossible to create a sterile environment to prevent infection. Akwasi was brave; so resolute to be a master of his education and fearless to put it to use. But more importantly, I realized during that visit to the hospital that he had a burning love for mankind which defined his life's purpose.
We recently talked about each of our paths to finding the Baha'i Faith and how we decided to become Baha'is.
I was a strange child who started searching for truth when I was 12 years old, not satisfied with the answers from the priest at St. Therese Parish in San Diego where I grew up. Why were some people saved simply because of geography, while most of the rest of the world was not? Why did those people have a faith that they also dedicated their lives to in the same way we did, but we say that their beliefs are not from God? Why do I have to depend on the authority of the priesthood to tell me how to interpret what I can read for myself? The response was always the same, to "accept it on faith and don't ask questions."
At 15 years old, I first studied Hinduism after reading "Kalki", a fictional account of the return of Krishna written by Gore Vidal. That lead me to Judaism, Buddhism and Islam. I read the Koran on my own, and fell in love with the confirmations it gave me as a Christian and its lessons about compassion. I found commonalities and a truth in each of them, but something was always missing as well. I knew that I was looking for faith that would address the needs of our current world. I had not found that yet.
When I was 17, our neighbor across the street sent me to Moloka'i, Hawaii to work for her brother. She and Mike were Baha'is. This was all my mother knew - the name - and she told me the morning before I got on the plane to make sure I don't talk to the Baha'is because she was sure I'd have to shave my head. Try telling that to a 17 year old boy.
When I got there, I immediately read a book called "Release The Sun" by William Sears about the early history of the Faith. I learned that Bahai's believe in the oneness of God, the oneness of Mankind, that science and religion must go hand in hand, that God sends divine messengers known as Manifestations, such as Moses, Jesus, Krishna, Buddha and Mohammad to educate mankind and to guide us in our progress. And in the late 1800's, God sent us another Manifestation named Baha'u'llah, Arabic for the Glory of God, to bring teachings to unite mankind and fulfill the promise of world peace as the previous Manifestations had all foretold. Nine days later, I became a Baha'i. This was what I was looking for.
During the early years of the Baha'i Faith as it spread over the globe, dedicated Baha'is took up the brave task of leaving their homes to settle in other countries in order to share the news. One such man was Enoch Olinga who left his home in Uganda at the request of Shoghi Effendi in 1953, settling in the Cameroons. Mr. Olinga in turn sent David and Esther Tanyi from the Cameroons in 1954 to bring the Baha'i Faith to Ghana. They are honored in Baha'i history as Knights of Baha'u'llah for their courageous service. Uncle David and Auntie Esther lived in Kumasi and were like family to me. Uncle David always smiled even during the tough times of the drought, and Auntie Esther was quiet and always prayerful. They had an older son named Enoch who was ahead of me in the university, and two younger teenage sons named Kwame and Yaw. Kwame and I became very close friends. We had a connection because we came from cultures outside of Ghana, and knew what it was like to be an outsider at times. Kwame was like a younger brother to all of us, and we we assisted him with tutoring and watched out for him so that he could get into the university. Tragically, we lost Kwame in 1983 to Sickle Cell Anemia.
Akwasi's story of becoming a Baha'i is far different than mine. He went to the firesides I had previously mentioned at the Shapiros home at KNUST for over a year. He went with the intent to discredit the Baha'i Faith since he was a devout Christian and suspected that the Baha'i Faith was contrary to his belief. Enoch Tanyi also went to those firesides, so one day Akwasi - always the studious intellectual - brought a handwritten list of no less than 300 difficult questions about the Baha'i Faith's perspective on complex Christian doctrine. He told Enoch that if Enoch could answer the questions, he would become a Baha'i. Enoch was clever, and answered 200 of the questions. But he told Akwasi that he had to find the answers to the last 100 on his own, and made his library of Baha'i books available to Akwasi. Akwasi told me that as he researched the Writings of Baha'u'llah, his heart softened and he came to the conclusion that he was a Baha'i. He gave in to his heart and became one of the strongest, most educated and fearless proponents of the Baha'i Faith I have ever known in my life. He later served for many years in many capacities of the administration of the Baha'i Faith, including being a member of the National Spiritual Assembly which is elected to steer the national community.
Akwasi also recognized my passion for the Akan traditions. I recall that one day he took me out to a village outside of town, and we met a Fetish Priestess. We sat with her for hours at a time, over the course of many visits, asking her about the traditional beliefs, what her role was in the village community and how herbal medicine worked. Akwasi patiently translated for me. It was absolutely riveting. I learned that traditional religious beliefs and herbal medicine play very important roles in the village community. The Fetish Priestess is responsible for the spiritual well being of the community, as well as the physical health of its members. She is the mid-wife who is responsible for the delivery of children and she is the the one to help assist with a person's journey through death, providing spiritual support to the family members and providing comfort to the dying so that they can pass with dignity and grace.
When my engagement dissolved, it was as if my soul was stuck in anger and something had died inside. And still, not one day went by that I didn't think about Ghana. I'd lay in bed at night and close my eyes, trying try to remember every detail. The sight of a thunder storm approaching from the distance over the dark green canopy of the rain forest, with lightening bolting out of black clouds as the wind picked up. The sounds of roosters crowing in the morning and the laughter of women as they walked at the crack of dawn to the market. The sights of men and women in traditional cloth on Saturday mornings on the way to funerals. The sounds of the tailor clacking his scissors to let people know he was walking through the neighborhood with his sewing machine balanced on his head. I'd remember Akwasi, Nana and I walking on the grounds of our beautiful campus. I'd remember the nights Annie and I would stay up until dawn with Andrew, Lisa, and Christina, talking about everything imaginable and laughing so hard it hurt. I'd remember the trips to the villages, walking along footpaths while tropical birds sang and monkeys yelled from the top of the canopy hundreds of feet above us. I'd remember the wrinkled faces of kind old village women who would greet me and feed me, give me a place to sleep in their mud huts and make me - a complete stranger - feel at home, part of their families and loved.
When I found Akwasi in 2009, it was after such a long period of darkness in my life that I was terrified he would turn away from me or hold resentment towards me for having cut off contact. It didn't happen. Instead, it was as if I had never left and the years and years of isolation had never happened. I was met with love and understanding. Akwasi helped turn me in the right direction to finding my way home.
I was about to go home.
