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The Saga of being Ewe… (Final Part)
• The Akuapem Guan and Ewe claim Okomfo Anokye was one of their own
First, it must be pointed out that the Asante have never claimed to own Komfo Anokye as theirs, but they treasure him for having ‘conjured ‘ the Golden Stool from the sky. It is rather the Akuapem Guan and Ewe who claim the great spiritualist as one of their own.
I read about Komfo Anokye and the Asante kingdom in Primary School. In Upper Primary I started hearing the story of one Atsu Tsala who was said to become known as Komfo Anokye. This was almost six decades ago. The wife of Tsala’s twin brother, Etse Tsali, was said to have lived in a thicket called Kleve, west-south-west of Anyako. People feared to go to Kleve because of the spirituality the place evokes even till today.
At age 12, I was asked by my maternal grandmother one day to accompany her to Kleve. We called her Daaɖi, and in her company I had no reason to fear anything. It turned out that twins could go to Kleve without any inhibition. Daaɖi was a twin. She was going to Kleve to look for her twin sister who died when they were still toddlers.
My grandmother chartered a canoe to ferry us to the thicket just about three knots from our home. She led me into the thicket, leaving the boatsman waiting at the landing. In the thicket was a clearing, a dirt floor that looked like having being swept seconds before our arrival. There was no one in sight. It was rather cool in there as opposed to the warmth outside. I took in the foliage that gave ambience to the dreaded Kleve.
Daaɖi said something I could not quite comprehend and a voice that filled the whole place responded and I heard the voice say her twin she inquired about had already returned to the physical plane and was a young girl in some village whose name I cannot recollect and that her grief must be over. The voice told her that the grandson she came with would one day give her twins. I gave this prediction little thought.
It was on our way back that Ɖaaɖi confirmed the story of Tsali and Tsala, who were psychic twins from birth. Their Dad, Akplɔmada (the spear that cannot be thrown), was himself a very powerful spiritualist. As young adults Tsali was notorious for showing off his powers to the chagrin of their father and their village folks.
Tsali would mock people on their way to their farms. He would put a cassava stick in the ground and by the time the people returned from their farms, the cassava he put in the soil hours earlier was ready for harvesting. That was the misuse of powers that got Tsala to go back to Notsie in Togo because he was uncomfortable with the brother’s behaviour.
Tsala returned by way of the Kabakaba hills near Koedze and journeyed to Akwamu. It was said he teleported himself to the west bank of the Volta river. Another narrative was that he commanded a crocodile to ferry him across. Then he went on through Krobo land and settled at Awukugua, then later met an Asante royal at Brekusu and went to Kumasi with him.
Meanwhile, extremely fed up with Tsali and his shenanigans the people grabbed him, tied him up, put him in a sack with a huge rock tied to the sack to add weight and dumped him in the Volta river. They saw him go under. Next day Tsali was spotted on the back of a crocodile with the sack slung over his shoulder with the boulder inside it.
Realising his status with the people, Tsala left, settled at Kleve and married a woman. The boulder is still at Konu, the eastern tip of Anyako today. It’s called Tsali Kpe (Tsali’s Rock).
Now, the Awukugua narrative is that a baby was born with unusual characteristics to one Annor. As a result people would say, “Annor, kye wo bia,” to wit, Annor, look at your child, hence the child being called Anokye. One old friend I had when I was in College at Akropong, Opanyin Akuffo, debunked this narrative. He asserted that there are traditional and customary ways of even giving strange names, but Annor kye is not one. According to him, the name Anokye predated Komfo Anokye.
Opanyin averred that it could have been none of anyone else’s business to ask or tell Annor to look at his own child. To him, this did not add up to make any sense.
“The folks referred to him as Komfo Nokye because they could not pronounce Notsie correctly. They then decided since Anokye was part of their names, they could as well call him thus. Tsala saw their challenge with how to pronounce Notsie and let them call him Anokye instead, “he told me.
He said people were easily called by their places of origin. Maame Fante, Maame Nkran, Egya Lome etc. He added that Akans could not pronounce Notsie and, indeed, names of non-Akan names correctly. After he took me to see the place Komfo Anokye stayed, Opanyin Akuffo narrated in almost same detail as my grandmother did. I was in awe of this octogenarian who was not Ewe yet knew what he was talking about. He was the one who confirmed my long held knowledge that there was cocoa in Ghana before Tetteh Quarshie brought the Fernando Po variety.
The old man confirmed that no one knew how Komfo Anokye died. He simply ‘went away’ as did Tsali. The woman Tsali married did not know how her husband ‘went away’. The mystery accounts for the fear of Kleve. Tsali’s wife was only called Kleve Teshie. She lived alone by herself in the thicket because people feared to go near her.
Nothing planted in the clearing at Kleve will sprout or geminate. No one knows why.
It is said that those who befriended Tsali were told by Tsali himself that his twin brother had gone with some royals to Coomasi (Kumasi) after being in Notsie and Akuapem mountains. He was said to have told people that he and his brother would one day ‘travel together.’
It is up to the reader to decide which narrative makes more sense and closer to the truth. Truth, however, is that the deaths of Komfo Anokye and Tsali were never known or recorded.
Just before my grandmother died in February of 1983 she told her daughter, my aunt, to tell me to take good care of her sisters (my twin daughters) who were toddlers at the time.
There is also the issue of whether kente originated from Bonwire in Ashanti or Kpetoe in the Volta Region. Much as I would personally advocate historical facts to be established and documented, what is rather very important is for our leaders to get kente patented as a Ghanaian product for the economic benefits to the country.
How China comes to produce fabric in kente and adinkra designs beats my mind. It is as if this country is rudderless and has no sense of direction. The Philippines have a white apparel made from sisal that has become a national costume, which in turn rakes in revenue to that country.
An Asante friend who has expertise in Asante linguistics tells me kente is one of many words borrowed into Akan lingo. The Ewe call it kete, which has a convoluted but relevant meaning to the woven fabric.
As a nation we care very little about how to make our indigenous resources attractive enough to take in revenue. Politicking seems to be a more accepted discourse than our economic survival as a people. The direction we are heading does not give hope for the future. Sad, if you asked me.
Writer’s email address: akofa45@yahoo.com
By Dr Akofa K. Segbefia
Walk into any supermarket in Accra, Kumasi, or Tamale today, and you will see the modern Ghanaian diet packaged as ‘progress.’ You will see breakfast cereals with cartoon mascots, fruit drinks that are mostly sugar and colour, and snacks promising energy and happiness in bright fonts.
Even products loaded with salt and unhealthy fats often wear a health halo labeled as fortified or natural, while the real nutritional risk is hidden in tiny print on the back. This is not just a consumer inconvenience; it is a public health blind spot. Ghana is living through a silent surge of non-communicable diseases (NCDs) like hypertension, diabetes, and stroke.
These conditions quietly drain household income and steal productive years. According to the Ghana Health Service (GHS) and World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates, NCDs are now responsible for nearly 45 per cent of all deaths in Ghana.
We cannot build a healthy nation on a food environment designed to confuse people at the point of purchase. Ghana must mandate simple front-of-pack warning labels (FOPWL) on high-sugar, high-salt, and high-fat packaged foods because consumers deserve truth at a glance, and industry must be pushed to reformulate.
Why Back-of-Pack Labels Are Not Enough
In theory, consumers can read nutrition panels. In reality, most Ghanaians shop under pressure, limited time, rising prices, and children tugging at their sleeves. The back label is a relic that requires a high cognitive load to interpret—essentially, the seller knows what is inside, but the buyer cannot easily tell.
This ‘information asymmetry’ is not fair. It is not consumer choice when the information needed to choose well is deliberately difficult to find.
Simple warning labels like the black octagons used in the Chilean Model act as a ‘stop-and-think’ nudge. They do not ban products but they simply tell the truth so people can decide.
Reshaping Our Food Environment
A generation ago, Ghana’s meals were mostly home-prepared, like kenkey and banku with soups and stews. Today, ultra-processed foods have become the norm, especially in urban areas. Children are growing up with sugary drinks and salty snacks as everyday items, not occasional treats.
If Ghana is serious about prevention, we must act where decisions are made—thus, the shelf. Warning labels protect parents from sugar traps and pressure the market to improve. When warning labels are mandatory, manufacturers start to compete to make healthier recipes to avoid the stigma of the label.
Addressing the Pushback
Industry will argue that labels create fear or that education alone is enough. However, health education is slow; labels work immediately. While the informal street food sector is a challenge, regulating pre-packaged goods is the practical starting point because the supply chain is traceable. We cannot wait until the whole system is perfect; we must start where action is feasible.
A 2026 Implementation Roadmap for Ghana
To move from talk to action, Ghana needs this 5-step plan:
- Issue mandatory regulation: The Ministry of Health, Food and Drug Authority (FDA), and Ghana Standards Authority (GSA) must define the label format and nutrient thresholds for all pre-packaged foods.
- Simple, bold symbols: Use plain language and clear symbols, such as “HIGH IN SUGAR,” designed for busy families, not experts.
- Transparent thresholds: Adopt technically defensible standards adapted to the Ghanaian diet.
- Transition and enforce: Provide a 12–18 month period for manufacturers to reformulate, followed by firm enforcement at ports and retail centers.
- National literacy campaign: The Ghana Health Service must pair labels with public messages explaining why high salt or sugar increases disease risk.
Conclusion: Truth Is Not a Luxury
Prevention is cheaper than treatment. A warning label costs little compared to the price of dialysis, stroke rehabilitation, or lifelong diabetes complications. A black octagon on a box of biscuits is more than a label; it is a shield for the health of all Ghanaians. It is time to put the truth where we can see it, right on the front.
By Abigail Amoah Sarfo
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Natives of the Kenkey Kingdom were mad with joy. They were still recovering from the hangover of the kingdom’s loss of the African Cup when their spirits were rekindled. Their great warrior, Zoom Zoom, stormed Melbourne and made sure that every Australian refused food. And that was after he had drawn contour lines on the face of their idol, Jeff Fenech.
Not only did the terrible warrior transform Old Boy Jeff’s face into a contour map useful for geography lessons, but he also accomplished the feat of retaining the much-envied super-kenkeyweight title against all odds. The warrior had not been eating hot kenkey for nothing.
The Fight Against Fenech
When Jeff Fenech bit the dust in the eighth round, I was tempted to consider if Adanko Deka could not have faced him in any twelve-rounder, title or non-title bout. Adanko has improved tremendously, and soon he would be facing Pernell Whitaker.
Sincerely, I was pessimistic about Azumah’s man, who the last time took him through twelve grueling rounds of rough boxing. I expressed my fears to my colleague Christian Abbew, alias Gbonyo, who surprisingly had total confidence that the Australian brawler would fall, predictably in Round Five.
Gbonyo gave reasons for his contention, all of which I counteracted using the age factor. Fact is, I didn’t know that contrary to the laws of nature, Azumah was all the time growing younger.
When Fenech fell briefly in round one, I asked my brother whether it was the same Fenech that fought Azumah in Las Vegas. Sure, it was the same Fenech, all out to beat Azumah before his countrymen.
But the African Professor had no intention of making the Australian a hero. As he spun round the desperate Aussie, dancing and stinging out his jabs, it was not too long before I realized that the end was near.
The Eighth Round Showdown
Two minutes into the eighth round, the African ring-master proved to the whole world that he was a true son of Bukom. He himself was cornered, but like the tough nut he is, he managed to break free before overwhelming the panting Australian with several blows that made him crash headlong.
Moments after, the referee, expressing fatherly sympathy, stopped the fight to prevent an obituary. After the ordeal, Fenech’s fairly handsome face was full of newly constructed hills, valleys, ox-bow lakes—whatever. I noticed that his nose was very tired and had a miniature volcano sitting restlessly on it. Obviously, Jeff’s wife will have to nurse that nose back to its normal shape—but I’d advise her not to use iodine, otherwise her dear husband will wail like a banshee.
Reflections on Boxing
Because Mohammed Ali was the kind of boxer kids liked, many school-going kids often entertained the wish of becoming like him. I remember one day when I told my father I wanted to become a boxer, and he advised me to first complete my education to the highest level. Then, if I decided to become a boxer and was knocked out a couple of times, I’d fall back on my degrees and make a living.
Boxing used to be interesting when bouts were fought more with the mouth and tongue than with gloves. You had to brag well, psychologically belittling your opponent before beating him up physically. Mohammed Ali became a very successful pugilist because he also managed to become a poet. He often blew his horn across America, calling himself the “pretty boxer” and opponents like Joe Frazier “the gorilla.”
Ali made a living fighting hard fists like Joe Frazier, Ken Norton, Jerry Quarry, George Foreman, Leon Spinks, and Trevor Berbick. Twice he came back from retirement to fight just for money. It was Larry Holmes who finally pensioned him, and since then the great Ali has never been himself.
The Path Ahead for Azumah
When Azumah nailed Jeff Fenech on the cross and barked almost immediately that he was after the head of Pernell Whitaker, I was happy but concerned. I would have been happier if he had announced his resignation there and then—he would have been more of a hero. Beating Fenech in Australia is more newsworthy than facing Whitaker in the States.
With Whitaker, it might be a little difficult. The “Sweet Pea” is agile, has a crooked body like a snake with diarrhea, and stands awkwardly as a southpaw. He is known for having the fastest pair of fists and the rare ability to dodge punches no matter how close they may be.
Much as I do not doubt that Azumah can take his title, I also don’t want him to retire beaten. I want him to retire as a hero and live a fuller, healthy life.
As Azumah himself said after dishing Fenech, he is now a professor and has something to show for it. Like a true professor, I think it is time he resigned and took up training young talents who could draw inspiration from him and become like him in the future.
Closing Thoughts
I must say that although ageing boxers like Larry Holmes and George Foreman are making a name for themselves, boxing is not like the Civil Service, where you can even change your age and retire at 74. Zoom Zoom has delighted the hearts of the natives, and Sikaman will forever hold him in high esteem—but only when he retires as a hero.
This article was first published on Saturday, March 7, 1992.
