Features
Festivals and human stomachs
Festivals are supposed to be an important part of our lives such that once in every year, every single soul in the capital is supposed to go back to his or her people to celebrate, drink fresh palm wine and crack grass- cutter bones.
But how many people think of going back to celebrate the festivals of their origin?
Perhaps if we had a Secretary for Festival Affairs with plenary powers to ensure that once in a year, everyone goes back to his grandfather’s village to celebrate the festival of his people, the importance of festivals might be more appreciated.
It is so sad to note that because of financial, mourning and ‘brokages,’ many don’t dare go back to their villages during annual leaves and festivals.
Festivals as we know are inseparable from our culture and as such, indissolubly linked with our roots.
Anyone who is therefore a hopeless ignoramus as far as the festivals of his people are concerned is in a cultural wilderness, lost and cannot be found. A search-party would be on a wild goose chase unless he himself retraces his steps to his origin to learn the ways of old.
Since most people have taken the capital of Sikaman as their hometown, many Anlos for instance do not know about Hogbetsotso, the northerners, bom and bred in Accra have never witnessed the Dambai festival; Oguaas forget the Fetu and the Ada’s, the Asafotufiam. Instead, every- one becomes well-acquainted with Homowo.
The very first time I joined the Gas to celebrate their Homowo festival was way back in 1973, I was a little kid. As I had many Ga friends, I was in high spirits. I took my time and consumed an unholy quantity of kpokpoi, the cherished traditional meal for the festival. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, but I was uninformed about the dosage.
It was getting close to midnight when I realised that kpokpoi was not only a very delicious festive dish, but also a rather powerful traditional purgative.
It took me some four hours to get through since it was a wake-keeping of commuting from my bedroom to the lavatory to cope with the frequency of my free bowels. The following year I was more cautious and took the right dosage.
Quite ironically, I have celebrated, or should I say, witnessed more Homowo festivals than the Yam Festival of my people. But that does not make me ignorant. We used to look forward to it every year and the most interesting aspect was the contests organised to select the most attractive, largest or weightiest “new” yam. It was a sort of beauty pageant where yams were the exuberant contestants.
Today, when my people are celebrating the Yam Festival back home, and I’m unable to go, I also celebrate mine quietly in the capital with my mother, brothers and sisters. We eat otor, yam slices, yam fufu and chicken soup, with yam-balls as dessert. We don’t have drumming and dancing, though.
Most festivals are celebrated following the harvest season in farming and fishing communities. The festivals are celebrated to praise and acknowledge the blessings of the gods for the bountiful harvests bestowed upon us mortals. With poor harvests therefore, the celebrations become lukewarm. Man must chop!
Traditional African societies have superstitious beliefs associated with folkways, norms and general manner of life. The celebration of festivals is therefore not entirely free from certain taboos and superstitions.
The reader would please, allow for a little digression. A child who grows in the capital of Sikaman knows nothing about the taboos associated with his origin. He, for instance, refuses to believe that some clans do not kill snakes just because it is their belief that a snake had something to do with the perpetration of their clan. Others do not eat corn because they believe one of their great chiefs was poisoned through a meal prepared from corn etc.
Other taboos are observed because the gods say they must be. There is a river god in Sikaman which forbids anyone going to the river at night with lantern.
A white man on tour who said he never believed that ‘superstitious nonsense’ since he was a devout Christian who had been fully baptised and receives communion regularly, defied the villagers and took a lantern to the riverside one night.
Of course, what he met at the place, I can’t quite describe. Fact is he himself could not even describe it because he had to do a fast sprint to escape the monster that pursued him. Since then, our Kwasi Broni friend has learnt to respect some of our dos and don’ts. I know he had quite a story to tell his countrymen when he went back, unless he wanted to stay here forever to do thorough research into African taboos.
It is a taboo to be seen eating newly harvested yam before the fetish priest performs the necessary rites that usher in the celebration of the Yam Festival at my area. This is to ensure that the gods taste of it before dwellers of the land take their turn.
I had occasion to talk to Togbi Teiku (V), Dufia of Matse Dzeve (not my hometown), known in private life as Mr Joshua Addo. The Yam Festival celebrated at his area, he says, are preceded by certain rites, which he cannot ignore irrespective of his Christian background and intellectual attainments.
He does not take alcohol, not even occasionally. But when it comes to performing the rites associated with the stool and the land during festivals, he must forget about his healthy conscious habits and let the palm wine descend his throat, enroute to the stomach.
Indeed, festivals have a meaning to our lives. However, receptive we might be to the impact of western culture, we must not forget that we have our own culture which we must enrich through the endeavour of going back from where we’ve run.
What would be the meaning of our lives as a clan, tribe or people when we cannot find time once every year to revel in festivity for the enjoyment of it, to meet old friends, and make more acquaintances, get used to our folklores and customs, and above all rejoice the blessings of good harvests and the like?
Festivals are also useful to non-resident citizens of every locality. It affords the city dweller the opportunity to ascertain the true condition prevailling in their rural communities so that when the Town Development Committee comes out to say that non-resident females must contribute GH¢1,000 and their male counterparts GH¢1,500 for development projects, they cannot grumble.
You certainly wouldn’t complain because after a heavy festive meal you will sooner or later need the services of a KVIP since you cannot carry the stuff in your stomach back to a city water-closet.
And when you realise that there is no KVIP around, except for a dangerous-looking pit-laterine that had been constructed half a century ago, you’ll understand that if you do not contribute the specified amount you may not be able to retire to the village to spend your pension days, when it is due.
This article was first published
on Saturday August 25, 1990
When Abigail Fremah steps up to the Armwrestling table, the noise fades, the tension settles, and order takes over.
Despite a calm, but firm and meticulous disposition, she has become one of the quiet forces shaping Ghana’s growing reputation in the sport, not as an athlete, but a referee trusted on the continental stage.
Abigail’s journey into Armwrestling did not begin at the table. Like many Ghanaian sports enthusiasts, she grew up playing several disciplines. Football was her first love, but she also featured in volleyball and basketball during her school years. Sports, she says, was simply a way of life not just for her.
“It runs through the family. All my siblings are into sports,” she stated.
“I was involved in almost every sport in school, football, volleyball, netball, hockey; I did everything,” she recalls.
Her academic background in Health, Physical Education and Recreation laid a solid foundation for her sporting career. While on scholarship at the university (University of Cape Coast), she often used her modest budget to support young athletes, sometimes sharing skills and even T-shirts at programmes she attended. Giving back, she explains, has always been part of her motivation.
However, as she matured as an athlete, Abigail made a critical self-assessment.
“Armwrestling involves a lot of strength,” she admits. “Looking at my body type, I realised I couldn’t fit properly as a competitive athlete.”
That moment of honesty pushed her to a different trajectory but equally important path in sports; which is officiating.
During her National Service, she was encouraged by Mr Charles Osei Asibey, the President of the Ghana Armwrestling Federation (GAF), to consider officiating. He introduced her to a technical official, Mr Hussein Akuerteh Addy, who formally took her through the basics of Armwrestling officiating in 2021.
“I started as a case official,” she says. “We moved from region to region every week, officiating competitions. That’s where it all began.”
By 2022, Abigail was actively involved in national assignments, though she missed the African Championship that year. Her breakthrough came in 2023, when Ghana hosted the African Armwrestling Championship.
It was her first experience officiating at a major international competition and it changed everything.
“That was my first national and international exposure at the same time,” she says. “It really opened my eyes.”
Today, Abigail is a World Junior Armwrestling Referee, a status earned through performance, consistency and discipline. She explains that progression in officiating was not automatic.
“It’s all about performance, your appearance at African Championships, your conduct, how you handle pressure; that’s what takes you to the world level,” she stressed.
As a referee, Abigail’s priority is safety and fairness. Armwrestling, she notes, comes with risks, particularly injuries to the wrists, elbows, shoulders and arms.
“If athletes don’t follow the rules or refuse to listen to officials, injuries can happen,” she explains, adding that focus was everything.
Before every match, she ensures that all equipment which includes elbow pads, hand pegs and table alignment were properly set. Athletes are not allowed to cover their elbows, must grip correctly, and must follow the referee’s commands precisely.
“We make sure everything is fixed before the grip,” she says. “Once we say ‘Ready… Go’, there should be no confusion.”
She is also firm on discipline. Warnings are issued for infractions, and repeated misconduct attracts penalties.
“The referee must be respected, if you don’t listen, the rules will deal with you,” she says.
Abigail credits her confidence partly to her sporting family background. Her mother was a volleyball player, while other family members also participated in sports. Though they were initially concerned about her safety, her rise to the top reassured them.
“They were afraid at first,” she admits. “But they were also very proud, especially because some of them never got the opportunity to reach this level.”
Looking ahead, Abigail is optimistic about the future of Armwrestling in Ghana. In less than a decade, the country has produced African and world-level medalists, a sign, she believes, of great things to come for Ghana.
“Whenever we go out, we come back with medals such as gold and silver,” she says, and to her that was a sign of growth.
In the next five to ten years, Abigail sees herself rising to become a World Master Referee, the highest officiating level in the sport. Until then, her routine remains intense, training four times a week, working closely with athletes, standing on her feet for hours, and constantly refining her understanding of the rules.
“I love this sport,” she says simply. “That love is what keeps me going.”
Abigail encouraged women to be bold and intentional about their place in sports saying “don’t limit yourself because of fear or stereotypes.”
She also urged women to invest in learning, discipline and consistency, stressing that respect was earned through performance.
For Abigail, as Ghana’s armwrestlers continue to make their mark, she will remain where she is most effective at the table, ensuring the game is played right.
By Esinam Jemima Kuatsinu
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As he had promised Aperkeh, the elderly man and his wife and three daughters stopped by Aperkeh’s parents’ house. Mr Amando and his family were preparing to settle in for the night.
“Brother Ben and family”, Mr Joshua Amando said warmly, “although I know you are here on a matter that can hardly be described as joyous, it is still good to see you. You are welcome. Please sit down while I bring you water”.
“Yes, we will take water, even though we are hardly thirsty, because this is our home”.
“Okay, Ben”, he started after they had drank, “Let me go straight to the point. My daughter Priscilla has told me about the goings on between her brother Aperkeh and our daughter Stella.
Before informing me, Priscilla had expressed concern to Aperkeh about some habits he is adopting, especially the late nights and the drinking. She tells me that one Saturday morning, she was there when Stella complained about his drinking and some girls who had come to the house to look for him, and he assaulted her.
I called him and complained, but all he could say was that I don’t know what caused him to react that way, so I could not judge him. Now he does not answer my calls.
I have sent Priscilla to his house to call him, but he has refused to come. Unfortunately, Ben, my son is a much different person than the young boy who completed university and started work at the bank. I am really embarrassed about his treatment of Stella”.
“Joshua, let me assure you that even though what is happening is very unfortunate, it will not affect our relationship.
We have been friends since childhood, and I thought that with their parents’ blessing, the relationship between Aperkeh and Stella would grow to become a blessing to all of us. But there appears to be a real challenge now.
Stella thinks that Aperkeh wants her out of his house, and indeed Aperkeh himself told me that, about an hour ago.
So I’m taking my daughter home. I suggest that you do what you can to straighten him out, but if it does not work out, let’s accept the situation and continue to be one family.
I am sure that being the well behaved girl that she is, Stella will meet a young man who will cherish her. Fortunately, this problem is happening early in the day, so they can sort things out if possible, or move on with their lives if they are unable to stay together”.
“I’m really grateful for that, Ben. I will do my best in the next few days to reason with him, because apart from the relationship with Stella, Aperkeh is risking his job and career with this lifestyle.
A good job and salary offers an opportunity to gather momentum in life, not to destroy yourself”.
“Okay Brother Joshua. We will say goodnight. I hope to hear positive news from you”.
As he descended in the lift from the fourth to the ground floor, Aperkeh wondered who would be waiting at the reception to see him at nine on Monday morning. He had spent good time with both of his new girls during the weekend, so it had to be someone else. He got out of the lift and pulled a face when he saw Priscilla.
“Priscilla”, he said as he sat down by her, “what do you want here? You know Monday morning is a busy time at the bank. I am a very busy person, so say what you want, I have work to do”.
“You are very funny, Aperkeh. You are telling me, your sister, that you have work to do, so I should hurry up? Okay, Dad says I should advise you to come home tonight, because he wants to discuss the issue of Stella with you. He sent me to you twice, and you did not come.
He has tried to call you quite a number of times, but you have refused to answer his calls. He says that if you do not come tonight, you will be very surprised at what he will do. He says you will not like it at all, so better come.
“What is all this? Why won’t you people leave me alone? Stella is very disrespectful. I told her that if she wanted to continue to live in my house, she must obey me. It is that simple.
She chose to continue ordering me about, controlling me in my own house, so I told her that if she could not live under my conditions she should leave. And she left. In fact, her own father came and took her away. So what again?’’
“How did she disobey or control you? Was she complaining about your continuous drinking and late nights? And did you slap her on several occasions because of that? Did you tell her that if she could not live under your conditions she should leave? You actually said that to her father? You have forgotten that before she came to live with you, our two parents met and agreed, and gave it their blessing?’
“Why don’t you leave, Priscilla? I don’t have to listen to all that”. “Okay, I will go. Your father who gave birth to you and educated you to university level sends me to you, and you ask me to leave? I wish you would defy him, and refuse to come home as he’s telling you, because he is planning to give you the discipline you badly need. Let me tell you. Stella is such a beautiful and decent girl, and I assure you that someone will grab her before you say Jack. You are only 30 years old, and you have already become a drunkard”.
As he walked towards the lift, Aperkeh decided on what to do. He would go home, and calmly listen to what his father had to say. The old man was very unpredictable, and he wouldn’t dare ignore him. So he would take all the insults and threats, but as for Stella she was history. According to Priscilla, Stella was beautiful and all that, but she had not seen the two curvaceous princesses who were all over him, ready to do anything he asked. And these were not barely literate waakye girls, but university graduates from wealthy homes, really classy girls. With stuff like that, who needs a waakye girl? He smiled as he took his seat.
A few minutes to five, Aperkeh was packing up to leave for home to meet his dad when his phone rang. It was Priscilla.
“Aperkeh, Dad says you don’t need to bother to come. Stella’s dad says she came to him early this morning to plead that she would rather stay at home than return to your house. She thinks you are already decided to be rid of her, and she does not want to risk being assaulted again. So it’s done. You can go ahead and enjoy the nice life you have started”.
Before he could tell her to go to hell, Priscilla hanged up the line. He was partially stung that his dad had virtually cut him off. The last thing anyone would want was to fall out of relationship with his own family, which had always supported him.
But the truth was he was no longer interested in Stella. What was wrong with going by one’s feelings? He could only hope that one day, his parents and sister would try to reason with him.
By Ekow de Heer
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