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Published: July 11th 2010
You can marry my brother
Maria getting permission from Kwame's sisters to marry him. She's a hit here, I tell ya!July 10, 2010
Today was awesome AND uncomfortable. First we went to the Kumasi Cultural Center, which I loved. A wedding was taking place in its outdoor theater area, but I peeked through the holes in the block wall design. Again, people in Ghana know how to dress. They do not put their fabric and seamstresses to waste. They also know how to appreciate their families. It’s such a respectful culture, beyond what we’re used to in the states. The wedding, however, was not the highlight.
The cultural center is a small park with studios and vendors. Lizards of all shapes, sizes and colors dart all over the place, beautiful calabash trees and other ones I don’t know the names of shade a paved path, adults and children work, eat and play --- sometimes ‘inviting’ you to share their food.
A father and his sons carved out wood for drums near a fire. We’re told the men ask the tree for permission before they cut it. The Asante believe that all life is sacred and that their deities reside in trees, stones, rivers, etc. It would be incredibly rude to take something from nature without asking first ---
My favorite artist
and shame on me for not having his name on me to post --- I promise to add later when I find his card. not to mention that you don’t want to risk pissing off a deity. While many modern-day Asante follow Christian religions, they still hold on to some of the traditional practices and forms of respect --- no sense in ticking off their ancestors.
Some of the artists allowed you to come into their studios, some preferred you stay outside and just buy their stuff please. I visited the studio of a painter with no arms. Unfortunately, he wasn’t there, but the kid who worked for him (or maybe he was a relative) showed us his work and told us how the man painted (with his mouth).
A tanner showed me how he does his work, even though he knew I had no interest in buying anything. He basically has an assembly line with his family, one person processes the goat hide, another dyes patterns into it, they all take turns cutting shapes, and the man I spoke to specializes in sewing beads and fabrics into the cuts of leather to turn into bags, hats, chairs, you name it.
Some jewelers allowed me to take pictures of them working, and one of them showed me the different types of
Get it girl
Duku dancing beads they work with and where those beads come from. (a note to Julie: I bought you something from them, which I think you’ll like; Bonnie I have your beads). The brass charms they use come from another artist in the center.
My favorite --- and the big highlight for me --- was a young painter who likes to mix African images/symbols in with the abstract. He was so passionate about his work. Every painting he showed me (and I pretty much ended up seeing just about everyone) had a story. I don’t know which I liked more his story telling or his work, but I bought two from him --- a red/blue abstract about a woman kicking her husband out of the house, but the gate is open just a little, which means she’ll eventually let him back in; and a blue/pinkish/yellow abstract about a woman dreaming about her city’s future. I spent more on the paintings than I probably should have, but I love them and cannot wait to welcome them into my home. A picture won’t do them justice because it’s the experience that connects to them that make them so worthwhile to me --- but
Beading it
Julie, I bought one of the necklaces behind these girls for you. come on over for dinner one night after I get back, and I’ll be happy to share! For those of you who are facebook friends, I’m adding the artist to my friends list because whether he likes it or not, he is now a part of my circle.
The uncomfortable part of my day was attending a huge funeral, not because the funeral was sad but because I really did not belong there. These people didn’t know us, and then we pull up in this nice air-conditioned mini bus (how the driver managed to not get us stuck in the ditches, no canyons is more correct, is beyond me) and waltz on in as if our money could buy us a seat at their party (which it did). The thing is even though the family did not know us, they were happy to share this custom with us.
When you first enter, you have to shake the hand of every family member on both sides of the yard --- it’s a lot of hand shaking. In the middle is a PA system, flowers and a picture of the deceased. All but two old ladies seemed genuinely happy to
Yeah it's on his head
remember it's too heavy does NOT exist here. have us there. The two old ladies yelled “ko” (which means go) while giving the get-away-from-me hand gesture, but still took our hands to shake when we offered them. I just wanted to crawl under our mud-spattered bus, but it would have been rude to abandon my teammates (and super weird to hide under a bus).
Then you enter into another yard, which I’m assuming belongs to the house of someone close to the man who died. Kwame Richard, a man wrapped in a red cloth, became our guide. He welcomed us and offered us a drink (it’s rude to say no, so I went for a Star beer), explained what would be taking place, as is their custom asked us why we were there, then had each of us tell him our name and its story. In Ghana your name tells the world what day you were born on, what clan you belong to, and any special events that took place around your birth. Since my name doesn’t do any of that, I told them I was named after my father’s first girlfriend (my mother was asleep when he did the naming, and I’m grateful because her first
jammin
this little boy was just a dancing for us. choice was Hildeguard).
Kwame Richard explained to us that each family group makes a donation, which is announced to everyone, and then the immediate family shakes your hand and God Blesses You (in Twi of course). Since we were unknown he would accept/announce our donation and our reason for being there. Once this is done you sit with everyone in the first yard. He also explained that while the chief of their community was there they would play gospel music in honor of the church, but once he left they would dance to more traditional music.
Since I’ve talked a lot about what people wear, I should point out that the Asante wear red and black and brown adinkra (symbols) cloth. Immediate family members wear all red. The adinkra tell stories that help the dead and the family move on. There’s a lot more to it than that, but that’s pretty much all I can remember right now.
I should also point out that not a single person there was crying, and that funerals take up the entire day. Some go way into the night. The man who died (for ‘our’ funeral) was buried in the morning.
the funeral
Our guide and spokesperson, and we are so grateful for his time. It was around 4 p.m. when we got there.
When our donation and purpose was announced to the crowd, we got a good cheer and the family members came up to thank us. Then we were waltzed around both sides of the yard again to shake more people’s hands --- I couldn’t hear who they were, I just shook and nodded and tortured their language with my Meda asse pa (I lay at your base and like it very much, which means Thanks a bunch!).
And then came the grand finale, we had to get up and dance to show respect and appreciation before leaving. Since the men in our group didn’t come, I was the only white person there, and I sooooo wanted to do my people justice to prove the stereotype wrong, but l must beg forgiveness because I failed.
That said, you would not believe who I befriended during this gauntlet of humiliation. The “Ko” lady with the lazy eye and go-away hands, showed me how to move my hands, and when I finally got it right, she lit up. I wanted to yell, “She likes me!”
I know there has got to
More funeral
Kwasi, our official guide and protector through the entire trip, took all of the funeral pictures for me. I just didn't feel right crashing a funeral AND taking pictures. be a Twi proverb that says something along the lines of when you want to die of shame at a funeral, just go with the flow, you may end up giving birth to new friendships --- or something like that (because I’m pretty sure that old lady still doesn’t consider me a friend, but she’ll tolerate me). Of course it would sound so much cooler in Twi. And, going with the theme of the day, the old mighty Cedi is so much better when you spread it around and share.
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