The Earth Is Heavier Than The Sea

"Asaase Yaa," painting courtesy of Jonathan Kwegyir Aggrey 

"Asaase y3 duru s3 po." The earth is heavier than the sea.

In the painting above, my gifted artist friend Jonathan Kwegyir Aggrey has captured the essence of Asaase Yaa the earth goddess, and incorporated the adinkra symbol dedicated to her, two intertwined hearts.

This proverb asks us to recognize the sacred spirit of our earth, because she gives us life. She gives us nourishment. She gives us communion with the Ancestors, she provides us with roots to ground us, she shelters us from loneliness with the precious gift of family and children.

My life has had a common thread about loved ones leaving. Experiences such as the disintegration of our family from my parents divorce and my fiance marrying another man during our engagement  have forced me to learn to create my own family, gathering loved ones outside of the American norm. In many ways I don't understand how to navigate through American society. It's like a game to which no one ever taught me the rules. So when my Uncle Prince told me that God made a small mistake because he believed I was born in the wrong place, I think he touched on something incredibly insightful. The people my soul connects with are half way around the world. It has come at great sacrifice for me because these bonds span great distances here on earth and even greater distances to the afterlife.

Why do I feel such a profound connection to the earth? Maybe it's the sense of permanence that it provides. Like Asaase Yaa, a dependable mother, earth is always there to take care of me.

Part of my heritage is Irish. I've looked into the relationship of the Irish people to the land, and what I found is that there is a spiritual connection. Long before Catholicism and the British attempts to subdue the Irish people, they believed that the land was a goddess who gave us life. They believed that the forests were magical, where the spirits of their ancestors lived. I've come to understand the metaphysical relationship that each of us have with the people we are descended from. I can't help but think that my connection to the earth originates from deep inside my DNA, where memories of my ancestors are safely kept.

My grandfather was a man who loved the earth. I grew up spending summers in Nebraska, where he and my grandmother had a small farm. I remember the soil was black; so rich that anything could grow in it. Papa grew beautiful watermelons, sugar beets and sweet corn, juicy red tomatoes that we'd eat like fruit right off the vine, and fresh green beans that I'd sit with my grandmother on the porch, snapping them for dinner. There was a wonderful feeling of being connected to the earth, watching life grow before us.

The Akan beliefs about the land are a little more complicated. As I had previously explained about the hierarchy of Nyame and Nyamewaa, the male and female attributes of the Supreme God; the Abosom who are the spirit deities that protect all of life; and the Nananom Nsamanfo who are the souls of the Ancestors, looking out for us and making sure we are treating the earth with respect - each work to protect the environment in various capacities. Nyame and Nyamewaa give life. The tradition states that originally they were close to man, but after being repeatedly pummeled by the pestle of an old woman pounding fufuo, they moved way up into the sky.  Nyamewaa is also known as Asaase Yaa, the wife of Nyame. She is the earth goddess and responsible for the safety of the forest, crops, fertility and any life that may originate from the ground. The Abosom are believed to inhabit the environment. I remember a neighbor in Kumasi who cut down a huge tree on his property. For several months afterwards he had financial problems, marital problems and lost his job. The explanation? He had not poured libation to Asaase Yaa nor had he asked the spirit that lived in the tree to leave. The Nananom Nsamanfo watch over the land and make sure that we treat the earth with respect. Traditionally an Akan says a small prayer before the slaughter of an animal for food, thanking the Nananom and the spirit of the animal for its sacrifice, and for the bounty of feeding the people.

The traditions from my heritage are not at all in conflict with my belief as a Baha'i. Being a Baha'i has brought me very close to the subject of our environment, since Baha'i believe as Baha'u'llah, the Founder of the Baha'i Faith stated, "The earth is but one country and mankind its citizens."  If mankind was to look at the earth with such a sacred reverance, we could solve the various crises we are facing such as global warming, the challenges of renewable resources, pollution of our land and oceans and the depletion of the earth's rainforests.

From a letter by the Baha'i International Community, Office of the Environment:

"Long-term solutions will require a new and comprehensive vision of a global society, supported by new values. In the view of the Baha'i International Community, acceptance of the oneness of humanity is the first fundamental prerequisite for this reorganisation and administration of the world as one country, the home of humankind. Recognition of this principle does not imply abandonment of legitimate loyalties, the suppression of cultural diversity, or the abolition of national autonomy. It calls for a wider loyalty, for a far higher aspiration than has so far animated human efforts. It clearly requires the subordination of national impulses and interests to the imperative claims of a unified world. It is inconsistent not only with any attempt to impose uniformity, but with any tendency towards excessive centralization. Its goal is well captured in the concept of unity in diversity."

I think why the land makes me feel safe and secure is because it never leaves. The earth is a holy and sacred being whom my soul feels closest to when I'm out in the countryside near Cape Coast. There are forests of acacia trees blooming with thousands of bright yellow flowers, fields of maize and pineapples, and oceans of sugar cane as far as the eye can see, flowing with waves caused by the wind. It doesn't surprise me that I'm at peace when I'm in a village in the middle of the rain forest, bathing with rain water while brightly colored tropical birds sing in chorus and monkeys chatter in the canopy above. This is that sense of security that alludes me living in a western society.

 
Three years ago, Alex called me and told me there was an opportunity to purchase some land in Biriwa, not too far from Moree Junction and Brafoyaw. Alex has a passion for farming. He has a hatchery for chicks, and has probably 100 chickens running free at the house. He took me to see his nursery where he had mango seedlings, tomatoes, plantain and cassava growing. When Alex talked to me about farming, his eyes would light up and he'd explain every detail of his dream to have a farm one day. So when he called me about the land, it brought back memories of my grandfather in Nebraska. It brought back the feelings of safety and happiness. Alex's dream could come true. My connection to the earth of Ghana could be realized.

We took the opportunity and acted quickly, and now the land is ours - legally confirmed by the court and recorded by the Ministry of Lands. I made a very thoughtful and personal decision, coming to terms with my own mortality. I decided that the land will be in both my name and Alex's name. This is my gift to my son, a legacy that he will in turn hand down to his children. Alex was resistant at first, but I explained to him that I will eventually pass on and the farm will live on. It will outlive each of us and it must be entrusted to our grandchildren - a gift of love and permanency in each of our lives.

So what do we name this farm? Alex called me one day very excited and told me he had an idea. "Let's call it Abha Farms, and we will run it ethically according to our Baha'i standards." Abha is Arabic, and means "most glorious."  Most Glorious Farms. I loved the name and I told Alex he chose well.

 
Alex plans to farm using organic methods and fair pricing. We also decided to set aside a plot for the Love & Kindness Junior Youth Group in Yamoransa so that the children can learn farming techniques while growing food to assist their families. This junior youth group has sprung up from three years of speaking to parents in Yamoransa, communicating a new idea from the Baha'i Community in which children could create a community service based organization, completely non-denominational, where they can learn concepts of moral behavior while spearheading projects to be of service to their town. So far there are 39 children, and their parents and older siblings have become involved as well.

Last week I spoke with Alex and asked him how the farm was coming along. His excitement is palpable. "I am on it!" he exclaimed to me. He's got mako or pepper, anamuna or watermelon, bankye or cassava, aburo or maize, mankani or cocoa yam and borodzi3 or plantain already planted.

I admit, I've been feeling a bit down this week, a little lonely. The people I've loved and who've passed on are on my mind. My brother Nana, my friend Damina, my grandparents. With Abha Farms being realized, I'm feeling my own roots grow deeper into the soil in Biriwa. Meanwhile the roots of the bond between my sons and me also grow deeper, winding deep down into the soil of Oguaa. It gives me permanence that I long for but in its wake it brings solitude while I live here in the U.S. in order to build a future in Ghana. I know they are always as near as a phone call, but I still miss them.

I'd give anything to be living with my boys right now, farming our land.