Features
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
Features
Tears of Ghanaman, home and abroad
The typical native of Sikaman is by nature a hospitable creature, a social animal with a big heart, a soul full of the milk of earthly goodness, and a spirit too loving for its own comfort.
Ghanaman hosts a foreign pal and he spends a fortune to make him very happy and comfortable-good food, clean booze, excellent accommodation and a woman for the night.
Sometimes the pal leaves without saying a “thank you but Ghanaman is not offended. He’d host another idiot even more splendidly. His nature is warm, his spirit benevolent. That is the typical Ghanaian and no wonder that many African-Americans say, “If you haven’t visited Ghana. Then you’ve not come to Africa.
You can even enter the country without a passport and a visa and you’ll be welcomed with a pot of palm wine.
If Ghanaman wants to go abroad, especially to an European country or the United States, it is often after an ordeal.
He has to doze in a queue at dawn at the embassy for days and if he is lucky to get through to being interviewed, he is confronted by someone who claims he or she has the power of discerning truth from lie.
In short Ghanaman must undergo a lie-detector test and has to answer questions that are either nonsensical or have no relevance to the trip at hand. When Joseph Kwame Korkorti wanted a visa to an European country, the attache studied Korkorti’s nose for a while and pronounced judgment.
“The way I see you, you won’t return to Ghana if I allow you to go. Korkorti nearly dislocated her jaw; Kwasiasem akwaakwa. In any case what had Korkorti’s nose got to do with the trip?
If Ghanaman, after several attempts, manages to get the visa and lands in the whiteman’s land, he is seen as another monkey uptown, a new arrival of a degenerate ape coming to invade civilized society. He is sneered at, mocked at and avoided like a plague. Some landlords abroad will not hire their rooms to blacks because they feel their presence in itself is bad business.
When a Sikaman publisher landed overseas and was riding in a public bus, an urchin who had the impudence and notoriety of a dead cockroach told his colleagues he was sure the black man had a tail which he was hiding in his pair of trousers. He didn’t end there. He said he was in fact going to pull out the tail for everyone to see.
True to his word he went and put his hand into the backside of the bewildered publisher, intent on grabbing his imaginary tail and pulling it out. It took a lot of patience on the part of the publisher to avert murder. He practically pinned the white miscreant on the floor by the neck and only let go when others intervene. Next time too…
The way we treat our foreign guests in comparison with the way they treat us is polar contrasting-two disparate extremes, one totally incomparable to the other. They hound us for immigration papers, deport us for overstaying and skinheads either target homes to perpetrate mayhem or attack black immigrants to gratify their racial madness
When these same people come here we accept them even more hospitably than our own kin. They enter without visas, overstay, impregnate our women and run away.
About half of foreigners in this country do not have valid resident permits and was not a bother until recently when fire was put under the buttocks of the Immigration Service
In fact, until recently I never knew Sikaman had an Immigration Service. The problem is that although their staff look resplendent in their green outfit, you never really see them anywhere. You’d think they are hidden from the public eye.
The first time I saw a group of them walking somewhere, I nearly mistook them for some sixth-form going to the library. Their ladies are pretty though.
So after all, Sikaman has an Immigration Service which I hear is now alert 24 hours a day tracking down illegal aliens and making sure they bound the exit via Kotoka International. A pat on their shoulder.
I am glad the Interior Ministry has also realised that the country has been too slack about who goes out or comes into Sikaman.
Now the Ministry has warned foreigners not to take the country’s commitment to its obligations under the various conditions as a sign of weakness or a source for the abuse of her hospitality.
“Ghana will not tolerate any such abuse,” Nii Okaija Adamafio, the Interior Minister said, baring his teeth and twitching his little moustache. He was inaugurating the Ghana Refugee and Immigration Service Boards.
He said some foreigners come in as tourists, investors, consultants, skilled workers or refugees. Others come as ‘charlatans, adventurers or plain criminals. “
Yes, there are many criminals among them. Our courts have tried a good number of them for fraud and misconduct.
It is time we welcome only those who would come and invest or tour and go back peacefully and not those whose criminal intentions are well-hidden but get exposed in due course of time.
This article was first published on Saturday March 14, 1998
Join our WhatsApp Channel now!
https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbBElzjInlqHhl1aTU27
Features
Decisions have consequences
In this world, it is always important to recognise that every action or decision taken, has consequences.
It can result in something good or bad, depending on the quality of the decision, that is, the factors that were taken into account in the decision making.
The problem with a bad decision is that, in some instances, there is no opportunity to correct the result even though you have regretted the decision, which resulted in the unpleasant outcome.
This is what a friend of mine refers to as having regretted an unregretable regret. After church last Sunday, I was watching a programme on TV and a young lady was sharing with the host, how a bad decision she took, had affected her life immensely and adversely.
She narrated how she met a Caucasian and she got married to him. The white man arranged for her to join him after the marriage and processes were initiated for her to join her husband in UK. It took a while for the requisite documentation to be procured and during this period, she took a decision that has haunted her till date.
According to her narration, she met a man, a Ghanaian, who she started dating, even though she was a married woman.
After a while her documents were ready and so she left to join her husband abroad without breaking off the unholy relationship with the man from Ghana.
After she got to UK, this man from Ghana, kept pressuring her to leave the white man and return to him in Ghana. The white man at some point became a bit suspicious and asked about who she has been talking on the phone with for long spells, and she lied to him that it was her cousin.
Then comes the shocker. After the man from Ghana had sweet talked her continuously for a while, she decided to leave her husband and return to Ghana after only three weeks abroad.
She said, she asked the guy to swear to her that he would take care of both her and her mother and the guy swore to take good care of her and her mother as well as rent a 3-bedroom flat for her. She then took the decision to leave her husband and return to Ghana.
She told her mum that she was returning to Ghana to marry the guy in Ghana. According to her, her mother vigorously disagreed with her decision and wept.
She further added that her mum told her brother and they told her that they were going to tell her husband about her intentions.
According to her, she threatened that if they called her husband to inform him, then she would commit suicide, an idea given to her by the boyfriend in Ghana.
Her mum and brother afraid of what she might do, agreed not to tell her husband. She then told her husband that she was returning to Ghana to attend her Grandmother’s funeral.
The husband could not understand why she wanted to go back to Ghana after only three weeks stay so she had to lie that in their tradition, grandchildren are required to be present when the grandmother dies and is to be buried.
She returned to Ghana; the flat turns into a chamber and hall accommodation, the promise to take care of her mother does not materialise and generally she ends up furnishing the accommodation herself. All the promises given her by her boyfriend, turned out to be just mere words.
A phone the husband gave her, she left behind in UK out of guilty conscience knowing she was never coming back to UK.
Through that phone and social media, the husband found out about his boyfriend and that was the end of her marriage.
Meanwhile, things have gone awry here in Ghana and she had regretted and at a point in her narration, was trying desperately to hold back tears. Decisions indeed have consequences.
NB: ‘CHANGE KOTOKA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT TO KOFI BAAKO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT’
Join our WhatsApp Channel now!
https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbBElzjInlqHhl1aTU27
