August 9

There is a certain amount of anticipation that goes along with hot mornings and loud pop music that precedes a wedding. Today is the start of a 2 day wedding ceremony for Kwasi and Tashi’s daughter, Maggie. A table and rows of chairs have beens et up under a red and yellow striped tarp and everything waits in quiet anticipation. Even the children are anxious, dressed in their little dresses and dress pants.

The ceremony began with the welcoming of the grooms family, the bride’s family, the chairmen of the Unity Drumming Group, and the students from Canada. After a few speeches, the groom’s family went into the house to inspect the dowery, which was wrapped in golden paper inside the veranda. The MC held a list of inventory of all the items that were expected to be there, and they went through it in careful detail. There was a lot of alcohol and pop, a walking stick and sandals for the grooms father, cloth for his mother and a suitcase full of clothes for the couple.  There was a heated discussion when it was discovered that the rings were packed in the suitcase. The minister insisted that they were needed for the ceremony, so the suitcase was unwrapped and the rings were found.

Back at the tent, the groom was asked a series of public questions. Was he single? Did he wish to marry? Then he was asked to pay a transportation fee to bring his bride to him, and he asked how much more for express? Everyone laughed.

The bride entered with her attendants, wearing a brown and gold dress that was of the same material as the groom’s. Long black hair and a huge golden headdress, and of course a beaming smile. She was also asked questions, and then she was asked to produce her dowry. She went to the veranda with her attendants and brought back a bottle of Champaign and several bottles of schnapps. She poured a glass of Champaign for her husband and poured a little on the ground. She fed it to him and he did the same for her. Then the schnapps was poured into a calabash, and everyone important went off to the cobblestones to pour the liabation. Then the minister gave a short service in Ewe. I didn’t understand it, but it had the same tone as a southern Baptist preacher. Lastly was the exchange of rings and the presentation of the couple.

Dowry seems to be a tradition in every culture. In this case, it is very clearly the bride’s family paying the groom in kind for taking their daughter. In our culture, wedding gifts are a big thing. And they seem to be some kind of spin off or cheap coverup of the dowry tradition. But in our culture, the payment it to the bride and groom from all of the guests. We also have an inventory ceremony in the form of opening the gifts. We make a list of who gave what so we can mail out a long list of thank you cards. It seems that some of the deepest set traditions of all cultures are preserved in weddings.

Aug 8

Today I spoke to a teenaged girl named Precious about the experience of going to school in Ghana. I’ll go back tomorrow and ask her a few more questions to fill out the interview.

Another funeral today. Or rather, the second funeral for the same death. I tried to sit with Tashi, Kwasi’s wife. She didn’t speak enough English to give a proper interview, but she did answer basic questions. She sat amoung the women and sang along with the songs she knew. Once in a while a friend would get her up to dance, and she would, pulling me up with her. She explained some of the proceedings to me, especially the initiating of new memebers. Tomorrow is her daughter’s wedding, and she seems so calm and settled here singing and dancing

Today we also went to Jogage, which is Kwasi’s mather’s village. We joined the procession of dancers which were lead by our teacher aids, Kofi and Oliver. I walked with Kwasi and he pointed to a trail of water marks where liabation had been poured. We arrived at a palm branch awning with several elders sitting under it. Kwasi took my hand and told me to follow him exactly. He lead us around the circle and shook hands with each of the elders. Greetings and formalities are very important here and I have shaken hands with more people in the last few days then I can keep track of. There was a long formal litany of introductions and pouring of liabation.

Then the dance began. Kofi and Oliver were in the center of the performance, Oliver as lead dancer and Kofi as lead drummer. There were 4 young boys in the dance troop, and I could tell by the look on Oliver’s face when they danced that they were his students. I know that look very well. Kofi was in his element. Part way through the performance, his hand split open and he didn’t notice.

Aug 7

Another intense day of drumming with Kwasi. I slept in this morning, so I shoveled down breakfast, threw on some clothes and stumbled the few meters to the drum circle. I was still only half awake when we began. I spent the morning in a hypnotic daze aware only of cross rhythms and the wind.

It is interesting to learn Gahu from Kwasi. It is the same dance as the one we learned in WAME, but like all good games of telephone, the steps are slightly different from one interpretation to the other. Some of the words and rhythms in the song are different too. Such is the nature of oral tradition. Every teacher and every performer does it slighty different, so the one we know is unique to the WAME class of 2012. Maybe that makes it less authentic, or maybe that is part of the process.

It’s neat to watch the little boys. They are no older than 3 and they follow Kwasi everywhere. Each has a set of drum stics perpetually in his hand and they will play any drum they are goven, including the big boba if Kwasi lets them. The interesting is, their rhythms are pretty close to being correct. They will grow up to be amazing drummers just from exposure.

Aug 6

I am still mulling over the Boko experience from last night. I’m having a hard time thinking of it objectively. I wanted to buy into it. I wanted so badly to believe that there is some form of supernatural help for all the bad things that have happened in my life. I wanted so badly to believe that I am a good person who has just acquired some bad spirits. I guess therein lies the basis of religion.  A need to believe that we belong to a higher cause than our base instincts. The desire for help from powers higher than ourselves, and an explanation as to why bad things happen to good people.

I saw what became of my lost soccer ball today. One of the men go ahold of it and organized a game for all the men in the village. I sat on a tree root and watch for a while, feeling a little jealous because I wanted to play by that it wasn’t my place to ask, Gender roles are more divided here in the village than anywhere I’ve ever seen. The boys and girls don’t play together and I rarely even see the men and women speaking to each other. My whole life, I have enjoyed breaking gender roles. I always thought it was unfair that boys get to have more fun than girls, and even as a Canadian girl I wanted to be a boy. I still do in some ways, and even as a grown women I take pride in my masculine qualities. I am happy that my donation became an important part of the community, but I am upset that I didn’t get to partake in it, or even receive a thank you for it.

Aug 5

A  strange day. The day began with a long and hard session of drumming with Kwasi. In the afternoon  we were taken with Kwasi to a funeral of the Unity Drumming Group, of which  he is a member. Most of the afternoon is a blurr to me because of the red liquor that Jambolo, the driver, was distributing. They call it red. It is poured from a crown royal bottle and tastes like sherry only way stronger. Apparently, it is the home brewed alcohol called Akpeteshi with herbs added to it. I do remember being taken by Kwasi to shake hands with the dignitaries and dancing a sort of Konga with a woman named Akua, but the rest is a blurr.

After supper, Michael took me to see the Boko, which is a diviner who tells your fortune or Kpoli by consulting the Afa divination. According to Michael, the most intelligent members of society often become Bokos and the rituals of learning Afa are very secretive.  He came out from behind a curtain with a young assistant. Godsway acted as interpreter, as the Boko was very old and did not speak English. I sat on a grass mat beside the assistant with my legs extended. The Boko sat in a reclining chair, and Godsway sat in an upright chair beside him, so I was looking up at them both from my place on the floor. I paid 10 Cedi and was told to whisper my question to the money. The assistant shuffled a collection of stones and beads and asked me to choose 17. He asked me to put them in my hands and divide them. He tossed a string of beads back and forth and consulted them to know which hand to open and set aside. Then I divided the remaining stones and he went again. We continued until there was only one left. He told me that dark brown seed pod meant the answer to my question was no.

From there the assistant gave me two beads, one for yes, one for no and told me to shuffle them, one in each hand. The Boko asked the questions in his easy chair and the assistant consulted the beads and told me to reveal on hand or the other. There were so many questions that I lost track, but the brown seed pod was revealed each time except for one, regardless of how many times I changed hands. After many repeats, Godsway told me the Boko’s result. The summary version is that I am the daughter of the Sea God, I am surrounded by many evil spirits, and to get rid of them I must give up alcohol, peanuts, and wearing the color red.

August 4

                Today was shrine day. I will be writing a very long ethnography describing today’s proceedings, so I will try here to write only a short summary. Beth and I arrived at the shrine around 8am. The day’s proceedings had not officially begun, but there was an old women building a fire at the front of the shrine and holding her limbs to the flame. Someone told us that she was part of the sick ward and the fire was supposed to heal her. A woman with a small child offered to show us how to salute the shrine. Get down on all fours and touch your tongue to the floor, then touch your right elbow to the floor and then your left. (I later regretted putting my tongue to that floor when I saw all the things that go on it, as well as the way it is cleaned.)

                The ceremonies run all day. The drums play at intervals throughout the day, and goats and chickens are sacrificed in shifts for various things. When the animals are offered for sacrifice, they are first tested to see if the offer will be accepted. The animal is made to lie down, and if it tries to get up, the Gids do not accept. After a few tries, the person offering is asked to make some kind of confession. Once all the animals are accepted, the offerers stand in a circle and strangle the animals while the drums play. The corpses are then bled over the fetishes (stone and wood objects on an altar, meant to represent the God’s) and then taken out to the back to be butchered and cooked. At the end of the day, the meat is served and everyone present is expected to partake in the meat, even the baffled Canadian observers.

August 3

                Today we are attending an Ewe festival. We were given minimal instructions on what to expect and I’m still not completely sure of what is going on. When we arrived, we were told we were walking in the chief’s processional. After much deliberation about where to go, we were taken a few blocks away and joined an enormous parade. The chiefs were being carried on high floats and the street was packed with dancers and drummers. Every few minutes the drummers would put down and start a new piece, so it took hours to travel a few blocks. People were constantly grabbing us to dance and taking our pictures.

                When we finally arrived at the event grounds, there was more deliberation about where we should go. One man thought we should be confined to the foreigners’ section, but Kwasi insisted we sit with him in the chief’s tent. We sat in the shade of the tent and tried to listen to the speeches, but it was very hot and we did not understand anything of what was being said.

                Sitting behind us is the War chief of the Gbanne Clan, advisor to the Paramount chief in matters of war. He sta on an elaborate arm chair with his feet on a golden rifle. He wore orange Kente cloth and a black velvet hat with golden moon and stars, and many gold bracelets.  He is surrounded by attendents, including a woman to fan him and another to bring water for his guests.

                When it became obvious that we were uncomfortable with the heat and the Ewe speeches, Torgbe Kwasi Adzimah himself rose and motioned for us to follow him. He invited us to his home where he gave us beer, red , and banku with goat soup. He gave us a warm welcome and a short speech about life, and asked us to refer him to our parents. He said to live simply and let others build us up. The he returned to the festival, and we sat as his table drinking and talking about matters of little importance from home.

                Despite the heat and the monotony of the speeches, I am sorry that we missed the rest of the festival. Although the procession was a great experience, I have a feeling that we left before the real show got started. I don’t even know what the festival was for! Someone said that  it had to do with the pineapple harvest, but I really didn’t see enough of the proceedings to piece anything together.