Features
The saga of being Ewe… (Part 4)
In this penultimate episode in the series I intend to address the Ewe directly. The final part will delve into the Komfo Anokye narrative.
I am accused of being a de-tribalised Ewe. To this, I plead guilty as charged. It is true I have more friends and acquaintances from other ethnic groups than from Ewe. It is not deliberate I drifted towards others in my professional career as I worked outside of Ewe land.
Apart from English, which is our official language, how often do you come across an Akan, Ga-Dangbe or Dagomba speaking another language other than their own among themselves? Virtually none. But it is common to see the Ewe speaking Twi, Fante, Ga among themselves. It beats my mind.
It is understandable if they are born out of mixed marriages where the choice is obvious. Sadly, a good number of my own siblings and cousins speak other languages among themselves. Because of this their own children follow in their footsteps to the extent that when I converse with some of them, their end of the conversation sounds Ewe patois.
Is it a lack of confidence in our identity as Ewe? Of course, no other reason can be adduced for this. Personally, I speak to friends in Twi, Fante, Ga and Guan when we meet, but never speak another language to my fellow Ewe, even de-tribalised as I am.
I have had colleagues lambast me at the workplace when I spoke Ewe to Ewe colleagues. Meanwhile, they were all comfortable speaking Akan among themselves. I am aware this happens in almost all workplaces. I do not yet know what accounts for this.
If we allow ourselves to be cowed by this behaviour of others, then we have the propensity to sell our birthright to others. We will then recoil into our closet and complain of discrimination. We can only be purchased at the price we sell ourselves.
I recollect a visit with a friend to a restaurant in Baychester area of the Bronx in summer of 2012. There were some Akan speaking women at the joint. My pal and I were chatting in Ewe. On their way out they greeted us in Twi. We responded in English that we did not understand their language.
“Are you not from Ghana?” One asked. We answered in the affirmative. “And you cannot speak Twi?” Suppressing my revulsion to this uppity, I slowly asked if Twi was Ghana’s lingua franca. “Sorry, but every Ghanaian understands Twi,” she pressed on. I shot back, asking her how many of the “every Ghanaian” she spoke to. Her companion told her in Twi, “Let’s go. You are getting the man angry.” Wishing us a good day, they sauntered to the door and into the summer sun.
I am proud of our compatriots from the north of the country. They speak their languages with such finesse and pride wherever they are. So do the Akan and the others, but not my people. Many languages have atrophied for lack of usage and Ewe is likely to follow if this attitude does not change. The Latin I read in school has only enriched my vocabulary and understanding of certain expressions but there is no one to speak it with.
The only positive thing for the Ewe language is that it is the main one in Togo and parts of Benin so if we kill it in Ghana, it will still be alive elsewhere. I cringed when I saw a niece on Whatsapp Status describing herself as “Ayigbe toffee”. How can a people accept to be called what they are not? Are we being mentally enslaved or we are allowing it?
All of a sudden we are importing other cultures into our own. It is not in Ewe culture to have a one week celebrated when a relative dies, but this has crept into our culture. We all saw the Akan display at the funeral of my own friend Jerry John Rawlings. Rawlings was not Akan. Even if it was because he was at a time our head of state, then all major traditional practices must be involved. In my estimation, Rawlings suffered an indignity at his funeral.
Also, the Akan funeral dirges are on display at Ewe funerals these days. It is true that the Ewe in the north of the Volta Region are closely linked to some Akan cultures, which is understandable, but what of the rest? The etenteben (flute) invented by Tata Dr Ephraim Amu, a native of Peki-Avetile in the Volta Region, has become the Akan instrument of choice for dirges.
The only honour for the great Ephraim Amu is a dirty road that passes by the western gate of the Central University at Mataheko in Accra.
We have condoned it and we have embraced it. If you fear to speak your language, who will speak it on your behalf? I have friends who are not Ewe meanwhile they speak the language flawlessly but among their people they speak their own language. This is the way to go.
I espied a video on social media addressing what the person referred to as Eυegbetɔwo. There is nobody or group as Eυegbetɔwo. We are Eυeawo (Ewe) and we speak Eυegbe (Ewe language). If we are even wrong in addressing who or what we are, who does the right thing for us?
Are you aware that there are more Ewe landlords in Accra than any other ethnic group except Kwahu? Yet they cannot assert themselves on the capital’s social ladder? Is it a lack of a rallying call for the Ewe to stand up and be counted?
Then there is this other thing about the Ewe being interested in juju. I have been trying to understand where this one came from. The first time I heard this was when I was in training college in the early seventies but took it as a stupid joke. Later in my interactions with people, I heard if you offended an Ewe, you are either killed or hurt through juju. If it were really so, I reckon I would have sent scores of people to their graves.
I spent ten uninterrupted years in the Volta Region and only saw mystical display at certain cultural festivities. People thrust burning fire in their mouths and strike themselves with daggers that did not cut their flesh.
I heard that if you wanted witchcraft you went to Nzema. This was after I joined my family in Koforidua. I later learnt of deities called Antoa, Akonedi, Nogokpo etc. etc. I know there are deities in almost everywhere in this country. Where do the Ewe feature in all this?
In my study of philosophy and psychology, fear-induced guilt has the potential of killing faster than any known ailment and so crystalisation of such thought forms send people to their early death and others are blamed for it.
What are the opinion leaders (Dumegāwo) doing in all these? What are Togbewo/Torgbuiwo doing to preserve the culture and traditions of the Ewe people? They are the custodians and embodiment of the soul of Eweland and must act to stem the negatives assailing their people.
Our chiefs must not be seen or heard only at festivals or when politicians come calling. We need them to lead us every minute of the day throughout their reign.
Now, I have realised that it is only in the heat of party political activities that I get the Ashanti Region pitted against Ewe. This is stoked by political activists and their masters who should know better. Truth is that the Asante generally are not tribalistic. You realise this when you live with or among them. Neither are the Ewe, so the toxic atmosphere can only be blamed on the political actors.
Ghanaians have a way of poking fun at one another without hurting one another’s sensibilities. It happens in every society, but it becomes rather serious when people we see as leaders poison the atmosphere for whatever gains only they can tell.
This is where I call on our traditional rulers to use their authority to ensure unity and camaraderie among all peoples living in their areas of traditional control. That way, everyone of us will have a sense of belonging as Ghanaians.
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
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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’
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