Sunday, December 30, 2012

Mothers Protect the People

"Yaw, it is time to wake up. I was thinking we should take a trip and go to Akim Oda to see my mother for a few days. What would you think of that?"  

"Sure, some time at the farm, Nana. I'd like that." I replied, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

It was 1986. Nana had struggled to get to where he was at in life, now a Masters Degree candidate and lecturing in the Art Department at Tech.

Nana, his brothers and sisters were raised by a single mother who I knew simply as Auntie Nana.  Nana is not only a proper name for a boy or a girl, but it's also a title used when addressing older people, meaning 'respected one.'  She let me call her Auntie Nana and she smiled when I called her that. Her husband left when the children were very young, so she had to figure out a way to feed her children and to pay their school fees. Buying and selling produce in the market, she saved money over many years and bought land in Akim Oda, northwest of Accra in the Akim land. And on that land she built the most beautiful farm with maize, eggplants, tomatoes, plantain, papaya, bananas and the most gorgeous white pigs.

The Akim are a quiet people, and they tend to keep to themselves. Traditionally they were warriors, but became cocoa farmers during the late 1800's. Akim is hilly with dense rain forest, an incredibly beautiful part of Ghana. I've always enjoyed that part of the country, because of its tranquility and simplicity of life.

We quickly got bathed. Nana shared a flat at Independence Residence Hall at the university with another Masters candidate, but the showers and bathrooms were dormitory style down the hall. We walked down to the showers, carrying our towels, sponges, soap and toothpaste. Nana was concerned about a weaving project he was working on, and asked for my advice as we showered.

After we were clean and shaved, I packed a few t-shirts and a couple pairs of cotton pants, while Nana carried a box of things for his mother we had bought in town; things she wouldn't buy for herself, like imported soap, cocoa butter lotion made in Ghana, biscuits and chocolate. This was during my first visit back to Ghana after 1982, and the economy had vastly improved. The markets in Kumasi were packed with everything imaginable, so it was nice to be able to shop for some things with which Nana's mother could indulge herself. Nana was very close to his mother. Whenever he spoke of her his eyes would light up and that infectious smile would take over.


We took a taxi to Kejetia in the center of Kumasi and then walked to the bus yard. The bus yard could be described as controlled chaos with buses lined up in arbitrary rows. The object was to find a bus headed to where you are traveling to. This could be a challenge, since a hundred "mates", or drivers' assistants,  yelled their destination at the same time with a great deal of bravado. "Taaaaaaaaaamale, Tamale, Tamale!" "Cape! Cape! Cape! Cape! Cape!" "Bolgaaaaaaaaatanga, Bolga, Bolga, Bolgataaaaaanga!" "Accra! Accra! Accra! Accra! Accra!" A chorus of a hundred cities' names all being yelled at once. Magically, Nana could hear Akim Oda called out, weaving his way through the maze of buses and Tro-Tros. How he could hear this was baffling to me.

We bought our tickets, got on the bus and then waited for the bus to fill up. Once every seat was taken, it would be time to leave. So Nana and I found our seats and bought some snacks from the market women catering to passengers, carrying their baskets of treats on their heads as they combed through the aisles while yelling, "Meat pies! Kokoo chips! Kwadu ne nkatee! Hard-boiled kosuea! Roasted bayere ne mako! Fried kosuea sandwiches! Bofrort!"

While we sat and ate our fried egg sandwiches, a young man boarded the bus flanked by two older men who were dressed in traditional cloth. I put my sandwich down and froze. The young man was stunningly beautiful - that's the only way to describe him. He was dressed in white robes, with strings of tiny brass bells around his wrists and ankles, chiming as he walked. His gait was so graceful that it was as if his feet did not touch the ground. He had shoulder-length dreadlocks, and the bottom of each lock was dyed a burnt orange color with a polished cowry shell sewn to the end. His forehead, eyes and cheeks were covered with white powder and his neck, arms and ankles were intricately painted with abstract designs made with a white pigment.  He carried a whisk made from the tail of a white goat with a leather handle dyed in intricate patterns.  His neck was laden with strands upon strands of Krobo beads, so high that his neck was not visible.

I watched in awe. "Nana, who is he?" I whispered.

Speaking quietly, Nana explained. "He is an Asante fetish priest from near Kumasi, and still quite young.  At an early age, probably 5 or 6 years old, he was recognized by the elders of his people for having one foot in this world and one foot in the next. Maybe he was able to communicate with the departed or he was able to call their spirits to be present in this world. You understand our belief in Nyame and Nyamewaa, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "The unknowable God appears to mankind as both the male God Nyame and the female Goddess Nyamewaa."

"Exactly. He would have been selected because the elders could see attributes of both Nyame and Nyamewaa in his character. Often these children are naturally adept at music, drumming or dance. They have the ability to heal, are incredibly intuitive and have an innate understanding of the herbal medicines we use."

I asked Nana about what the priest was wearing.

"The bells are to alert the spirits who inhabit the trees and the bush that he is coming, and not to be startled by his presence. His hair and his white robes signify that he is separate from the rest of the community, and that he lives in both this world and the next one.  Cowry shells have traditionally been a sign of royalty because they were very expensive to bring up to the Asante land from the shores in the Ga, Fante and Ewe lands."

"Wow...," I whispered.

Nana patted me on the knee and laughed. "There is much to our culture here, Yaw. It makes me happy that you want to learn more."

The priest and his companions sat a few rows in front of us, and slowly the bus filled up.

I loved riding the buses, filled with people who were coming from the market with produce and livestock like chickens and pygmy goats, businessmen in their suits, students finished with classes and old women returning to their villages after shopping or conducting business in Kumasi. Soon, the engine started and the bus was filled with the sounds of High Life music from the radio as we pulled out of the bus yard and onto the road.

Since the roads were still in disrepair with pot holes or completely washed out, we couldn't use the roads directly to Oda and we had to travel south through Accra, then head west to Winneba along the coast and then north to Akim Oda. I never minded the trips, because it was so beautiful to look out and watch as we wound our way through the rain forest passing villages and towns. It was always easy to make new friends because conversation comes so easily during the ride.

Nana and I never ran out of things to talk about, and on this trip Nana told me about how hard his mother had worked to raise her children.


Women in Ghana are fearless when it comes to the upbringing of their children. Part of this comes from the status that motherhood brings a woman in society. Annie and I were once walking through the Kumasi central market, and we came across a disagreement between two women, arguing over who had selected a tuber of yam. The older woman was clearly in the wrong because we had watched the younger woman pick up the tuber to examine it, and then suddenly the older woman snatched it from her. It escalated into yelling but then suddenly stopped. Instead of asserting her right to the tuber, the younger woman backed down and gave up. Annie said the reason was because she did not have children yet, and therefore her status in society was lower than that of the older women who did have children.

Living in Kumasi was a unique experience because the Asantes are a matrilineal society, bringing much more of an equal status to men and women. This is because inheritance, unlike our American culture, is traced to the mother's side of the family and helps to even out the distribution of wealth by giving the women's side of the family much more economic clout. Even at the level of royalty, women play an influential role. The Asantehene, king of the Asante people, is advised by the Queen Mother who has her own court and her own powerful status in the royal palace.


Powerful women are a part of the history of Ghana. One such woman was Yaa Asantewaa. She was born in 1840, and when her brother the Ejisuhene, king of Ejisu, died in 1894, she used her right as Queen Mother to nominate her own grandson to be the new king. She watched as the British exiled him along with Prempeh I, the Ansantehene, to the Seychelles Islands in 1896 for being a perceived threat to the British colony. To add to this disgrace,  the governor general for the Gold Coast Colony, demanded that the Asante people hand over the Golden Stool which embodied the spirit of the people. It is believed to have been brought down from the heavens by Okomfo Anokye the great priest. A meeting among the Asante leaders was held to discuss ways to get the Asantehene out of exile, and Yaa Asantewaa was so frustrated by their lack of leadership, she stood and said the following:

"Now I see that some of you fear to go forward to fight for our king. If it was in the brave days of Osei Tutu, Okomfo Anokye and Opoku Ware, chiefs would not sit down to see their king to be taken away without firing a shot. No European could have dared speak to chiefs of Asante in the way the governor spoke to you this morning. Is it true that the bravery of Asante is no more? I cannot believe it. It cannot be! I must say this - if you, the men of Asante, will not go forward, then we will. We, the women, will. I shall call upon my fellow women. We will fight! We will fight till the last of us falls in the battlefields."

And with that, she lead the great rebellion of 1900 against the British. Thousands died during the rebellion, as the Asante people attacked the Kumasi Fort where the British Army was isolated for months. She was an incredible leader, and used clever ways to keep the British at bay inside the fort including making small ponds of stagnate water at the foot of the fort walls so that mosquitoes would breed and infect the British soldiers with malaria. After four months, the British governor general had to bring in 1,400 troops to put down the rebellion. Nana Yaa Asantewaa and 15 of her advisers were put into exile with Prempeh I along with the Ejisuhene in the Seychelles. She passed away there October 17, 1921.  Prempeh I and the Ejisuhene were released and allowed to return to Ghana, and Prempeh I demanded that her remains and the remains of the other exiles be returned to Ghana for royal burials.

Nana Yaa Asantewaa is loved in Ghana. In 1960, the Yaa Ansantewaa Secondary School for Girls was established, and in 2000 a week-long centenary celebration was held to honor her leadership and fearlessness in the rebellion. A museum was also dedicated to her in Kwaso near Ejisu. She represents the bravery of so many women in Ghana, and through her inspirational example she opened doors for women to play vital roles in securing the independence of Ghana in 1957 and to guide the country as members of Parliament, and as leaders in public service, education and business.

During 1982, I experienced another uprising led by a queen. As I had said, the Asantes have a strong presence of women leaders among their people in positions of influence and power. One such area of influence is in the markets throughout the country that provide food to the entire population.

A sorority of women known as the yam queens, operate under their own hierarchy of power. Lower queens that may only have influence over one or two markets in a localized area report to and follow the direction of queens higher in the hierarchy. At the top of this sisterhood is the Supreme Yam Queen. She watches the supply and demand for yams, a fundamental staple in the Akan diet. If the market gets flooded with yams causing the price to fall, she will communicate to the lower queens to tell market sellers not to come to the market and effectively reduce the supply to keep the prices up. Conversely, if prices get too high, she will give orders for sellers to bring more product to market and bring down the price. And the most fascinating thing is that in most instances, the yam queens are illiterate. They are able to do complex calculations, keep financial records and keep track of inventories by memory.

As I had previously pointed out, the military government wanted to take control of the marketplace and force controlled pricing. The markets were pretty much bare since the market women simply refused to bring their merchandise to be forced to sell at cut rates. Food was a bit more complicated though. If food was not available and the market women were perceived as being responsible for shortages, the power of the queens would have been usurped. In spite of that risk, the Supreme Yam Queen shut down the entire availability of yams throughout the country to let the military government know to stay out of her business. The masses of people did not turn on her, but rather they became outraged at the military government. She stood her ground and she did not blink, and the military was forced to bow down to her. Do not battle with a Ghanaian woman who has children to educate and feed. You will lose.


The bus arrived late in the afternoon and we walked to Auntie Nana's farm. She was so excited to see us both. She was a beautiful woman, with worn hands from working her land.


She and her daughters prepared a room for Nana and I, and then prepared our baths. A bath in the country is much different because we used a bucket of water, handmade soap and a concrete slab under the stars. This is one of my most fond memories of Ghana, where life is broken down to the most essential parts. It's so simple and I felt so much closer to my soul without the distractions of modern life.There's something magical to stand in the warm tropical air, washing with cool water drawn from a well with a million stars overhead - so close you can almost touch them.


We sat with her in her sitting room, watching television and catching up on all the news about Oda. Auntie Nana was kind and soft spoken, but there was a resilience to her as well. A woman who had worked very hard for many years; life had given her thick skin. She asked me if I had seen his paintings and weaving. We talked a lot about what it was like for me to study at a university in Ghana, and she asked me much about how it was similar and different to the U.S.  In the course of the conversation, I learned that Nana's mother was much like my own. He and I had come from uneducated parents, and we were the first in our families to go to the university.  She was very proud of Nana.

It's amazing to watch a Ghanaian mother with her children. They mean everything to her. An education is a prized possession in Ghana, probably the most treasured thing a Ghanaian can have. Mothers sacrifice their lives to get their children into good schools, and she will sell every one of her possessions if it means assisting her children to attaining a better life for themselves.


We had a wonderful few days with Nana's mother at her farm. She showed me all of her crops and her beautiful white pigs that she was so proud of. At harvest time, she would pack her produce and take it to market in Winneba. If I had my way in life to do it all over again, I would own a farm just like Auntie Nana. What a wonderful place to live life in peace and raise your children without any of the distractions or threats that arise living in a city.


Ghanaian women have had an enormous impact on my own development. Auntie Bea treated me like her own son for the year that I lived with the Asares. She groomed me into becoming a respectful young man. She taught me so much about life, and how to see the world from the perspective of someone else.


My Auntie Aggie is another one of these mothers who has helped to make me a better man. Auntie Aggie is the love of my Uncle Prince's life, and she is an example of what every mother would hope to be.  She raised five children of her own, all of which have become incredible people who are now raising children of their own as well.

Auntie Aggie speaks very little English, but she and I communicate through the heart. She never raises her voice, but she is firm. She runs the house, she cooks for us and she makes sure we are safe and happy. Her day starts before the sun comes up and she is usually the last to go to sleep at night. It's overwhelming to see the amount of work there is in order to run a home with many people living there. Cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, doing small trading on the side to make extra cash for the family, making sure children are clean and dressed each day for school, going to market for food. It's a back-breaking job that Auntie Aggie does with pride and elegance.

She is also a Baha'i, and her faith comes from a place that is unseen. She relies on God for everything, and she makes no decision without the assistance of prayer and meditation. It's as if she sees and hears God when no one else can. I quietly watch her and learn from her, hoping that some of her faith will rub off onto me. She holds such a special place in my heart. I hope she lives forever. I'm proud to call her my mother.