Mawushi and I were also close friends when I was at KNUST in 1982. He's another friend with an amazing story about how he became a Baha'i. A couple years younger than I am, he was a student at Mfantsipim Secondary School in Cape Coast. A fervent believer in fundamentalist Christianity like Akwasi, he planned on proving that the Baha'i Faith was false and contrary to Christian doctrine. His father was a lecturer at KNUST, so when he was home on breaks from school, he also attended the firesides at the Shapiros. And let's just say he was far more head strong than Akwasi.
Auntie Bea introduced us. I was taken aback because Mawushi immediately started asking questions, quoting scriptures and passages from the Bible. Auntie Bea practically threw her hands up in the air and told me that since I was raised Christian, I was now responsible for carrying on these discussions with him. One night we got onto the subject of the Holy Trinity, and this was one of my favorite subjects. Baha'is believe that the concept of the Holy Trinity is like the reflection of the sun in a mirror. The Father is the sun itself providing light and heat for life, the Son which is the Manifestation that I had previously referred to, is symbolized by the mirror having the ability to reflect the knowledge of the Father in the same way the mirror reflects the image the sun, and the Holy Ghost is like the rays of sun reflected from the mirror - redirecting the heat and light from the rays. At about 3:00AM in the morning, he finally got very quiet. I think I had finally exhausted him.
As Mawushi tells the story, he went back to Mfantsipim and would not stop talking about the Baha'i Faith. His schoolmates were so astounded that one actually said to him, "You talk so much about this Baha'i Faith that you should become one of them."
When he came home for his next break, Mawushi came by the house to visit. He was very quiet. His animated quoting of Christian scripture and proposing arguments against the Baha'i Faith were no more. He told us that he wanted to be a Baha'i. And with that, Ghana was blessed with one of the hardest working, most well read and charismatic Baha'is I know. His dedication is tireless. He travels in his 4 wheel drive truck all over the Accra and Central Regions, meeting with the Baha'is and encouraging their efforts to spread this amazing message.
So, about my trip home. I decided to leave it in the hands of the National Spiritual Assembly and Mawushi to decide where I could be the greatest assistance during my month long trip. I secretly hoped that I would be able to go to Kumasi and revisit all the villages that I had grown to love there, but they decided that it was best that I go to Brafoyaw to stay with Uncle Prince and Auntie Aggie Abaidoo, and their family. I didn't even know where Brafoyaw was. I looked it up using Google maps and found it was just east of Cape Coast near Moree Junction, the town of Moree which is a 400 year old fishing town, and the town of Yamoransa - all within a 5 minute ride by taxi.
The Fante people have spent centuries in the area, and the actual name for the city is Oguaa in Fante. Cape Coast is actually a name given by the Portuguese and later translated to English by the British who took over the Cape Coast Castle. It was originally built by the Portuguese in the late 15th century and later taken over by the Dutch in 1610, the Swedes in 1652 and then the British captured the Castle in 1664. The British staged much of their slave trade from the Castle, as well as El Mina Castle further west of Cape Coast along the beach. I'll tell the story of Alex Koufie and I touring the Castle in a later post. It was the most heart-wrenching thing I have ever experienced, witnessing the depths that mankind can sink to.
Before I traveled to Ghana, there were a lot of details to cover. A mosquito net, a yellow fever inoculation (ouch), a prescription for Malarone, reading materials, shorts and t-shirts, a new pair of filp-flops that we call "charlie wortes" which is slang in Ghana for "Charlie, let's go!", and a crash course in the Baha'i guidance on how to establish Junior Youth Groups. The Baha'i community all over the world has been working to assist young people to come together and form their own non-denominational service groups which provide service projects to their local communities. This can be anything from mentoring children to neighborhood beautification efforts. My friend Al Cadena put me on a marathon course to be ready for my trip. The request from the National Spiritual Assembly of Ghana was to have me assist a couple of Baha'i youths, Alex Koufie and Sammy Arthur, who were working in the area with Uncle Prince to try to get these groups together.
My flight to Amsterdam took 11 hours, and I remember feeling that Ghana was a million miles away. I had a lay-over in Amsterdam for several hours. And then it hit me. I was waiting in the terminal for my KLM flight to Accra, and a couple sat next to me speaking Twi. I had not heard the language spoken like this in 24 years and just the sound brought everything flooding back to me.
As I sat there, the clock slowed down. It seemed that the announcement to board the flight was taking forever. I became anxious, wondering if Ghana had changed so much that I would not recognize it. Or worse, had I changed so much that my memories were distorted in time? I had never been to the Fante land. Would I love these people as much as I loved the Asantes in Kumasi?
We boarded the plane and I was one of the first to be seated. I watched Ghanaian business men filing into the plane, impeccably dressed in suits and ties. Women in the traditional kaba, skirt and apron assisting their small children to get to their seats and settle in. A woman sat next to me and I recognized that she was wearing a gold necklace from Ghana. There is no other color of gold like the gold mined in Obuasi, near Kumasi. It has a beautiful rich hue from the yellow side of the gold spectrum.
I introduced myself by saying, "Awuraa, wo ho te sen?" "Madam, how are you?" She laughed and we were immediately friends. The thing about Ghana is that there is no "trial period" for friendship like we have in the U.S., where we painstakingly take small steps over months and months to establish a friendship. In Ghana, there are strangers and there are friends. And the shelf life of a stranger is a matter of minutes. It felt like everything was going to be OK.
After 9 hours of flight through the night from Amsterdam south over Europe and the Sahara desert, we finally woke up as the plane flew over Ghana approaching Kotoka International Airport. I peered out through the window. It was my Ghana. Forests and plains of a thousand hues of green, cut by dark blue rivers and bright orange clay roads. The plane landed and we disembarked to the terminal. It hit me as I got off the plane. Not only the familiar humidity and tropical heat, but the intangible relaxation of life slowing down, as if there was a collective sigh that every human being was part of.
I got through customs and immigration, and then walked as fast as I could along the long hallway with my rolling suitcase, knowing that at the end of it Akwasi and Mawushi would be waiting. What would they be like? How different was I? Did I remember everything exactly as it was?
"Hey! Yaw!"
There was Mawushi with his head above the others who were waiting for their family members to arrive. And there was Akwasi. I walked up to them. Akwasi and I just stood still for a moment looking at each other, saying nothing, only smiles of disbelief. I touched his cheek, and then his head of gray hair. Mawushi just kept laughing. It was as if time stood still. 24 years were reduced to yesterday. I was looking at my two brothers, seeing ourselves as we did in our youth, but also realizing that many years had gone by - each of us with a few extra pounds and the wrinkles we collected with our responsibilities of adulthood.
"Menua Yaw, akwaaba," Akwasi said, welcoming me as he teared up. "Yo. Me da wo ase, menua," I replied in thanks. Hugs were passed around, and a group bear hug too. I think we were trying to express the permanency of this special relationship, as if there was an unspoken promise that this bond must be cherished and protected for the rest of our lives. It was bittersweet because Nana was not there, but I wouldn't trade that meeting for anything in the world. No gold, no amount of money could replace that homecoming.
Akwasi's wife and children were still living in Cape Coast while he was transitioning to his new position in Accra as one of the regional heads of the Ministry of Mental Health. He stayed at the hospital while working in Accra, so I stayed the next couple days with Mawushi and his family. Mawushi has done an incredible job with improving his house in Accra, near the Lincoln International School where Cecile teaches and the University of Ghana at Legon where Mawushi is a lecturer in French. He has a whole zoo of animals, including a monkey named Gringo, a pet pig, ducks, geese, a couple fish ponds, cats and a dog named Floppy.
After a couple days, it was time to head to Cape Coast. We loaded up Akwasi's car with my luggage, and we were off. Getting out of Accra in traffic is indescribable. It is like nothing I've ever seen in Los Angeles. In 1982, Accra was still a sleepy town, but with the stability Ghana has experienced for 30 years there has been a boom in a middle class, and whole neighborhoods of beautiful houses, office buildings, high rises, hotels, restaurants and even a shopping mall with a state of the art multiplex movie theater have been built. I was impressed that I got to see the second half of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" with digital projection and Dolby sound. There is a saying in Ghana now, "Accra is Ghana and Ghana is Accra." And while I enjoy the conveniences that have developed there, this isn't my Ghana.
And then there was the beautiful countryside that had not changed. This was my Ghana. The wide open fields of tall grasses, palm trees and immense forests of Acacia trees with thousands of bright yellow flowers as far as the eye can see. Villages appearing every few minutes with houses of brown clay walls and thatched roofs, with small boys chasing a bicycle wheel as they roll it with a stick, laughing and waving at the car as we drove by.
I was home. My soul was home. It is a feeling that cannot be forgotten. Your spirit reconnects with this land, your soul sends roots down into this precious soil and everything becomes familiar, comfortable. I was very quiet during that ride. Akwasi had Highlife music playing on the radio. We talked a bit about our lives that we had missed out on, but most of all I took in all the sights and sounds of home.
By the time we reached Brafoyaw, it was late. We drove past Moree Junction and then turned left on the small bumpy road up the hill into the village. Small kiosks were still open selling toothpaste, soap, sponges, onions, tomatoes and mangoes, each lit by candle light and attended by villagers sitting and visiting each other, catching up on gossip and news. We finally stopped at the gate to a house, and out came Uncle Prince with his family to greet me, "Oh, this is very fine. Akwaaba. You are welcome."
My life was about to change forever.
