In the morning, we travelled to Akrofi Christaller Institute in Akropong. Tracy and the students have been here before. But, this was the first time that Catherine, Mark, and I visited.
Our destination was the funeral of Paramount Chief Oseadeeyo Addo Dankwa III. On our way into Akropong, we were routed away from the main road to a back alley, just as a chief’s procession made its way to the center of town. Traffic in Accra is congested, but this was something else altogether: a narrow alley with drumming and dancing echoing wall to wall! It was intense, causing both Mark and Catherine some discomfort.
Samuel was our guide and cultural interpreter. Although he is a researcher at the university, he secured a 30-cedi media badge from the palace, allowing him to take photos wherever and whenever he wished. I got one, too, claiming to be a reporter for the illustrious Calvin College Chimes newspaper. For a day, we were members of the press.
After lunch, Samuel gave a lecture on chieftancy and funerals filled with fascinating information. Royalty is passed maternally, not paternally. 70% of Ghanians support the institution of the chieftancy. There is a hierarchy, imposed by British colonialists, with a king above paramount, divisional, and sub chiefs. He estimates that there are 500,000 chiefs in Ghana, because every town has one. However, only about 100,000 are gazetted (on the offical government roll of chiefs). All decorations and dress for funerals in southern Ghana are red and black: black for mourning and red signifying importance of occasion. (It is not clear how these guys hawking MTN minutes got in!) A goat must be slaughtered before the next chief can be installed. For some groups, discharging firearms into the air is a (very loud) statement of willingness to protect their chief, littering empty shells everywhere. (No danger, just lots of noise!) Other ways to protect a chief include holding an umbrella over his head and calling attention to the fact that you’re carrying a sword.
Above all, funerals are for the living, not the dead. They are an occasion to forge new, re-new, or reinforce relationships. And, they are peaceful: enemies are obliged to treat each other well as they converge for the event.
Samuel claims that one can learn much about the history and current politics of a region by understanding who attends its funerals and why. You must observe the proceedings, which unfold somewhat like a frenzied combination of an American pre-funeral visitation and a Memorial Day parade. Much of the assembled crowd watches the events beneath red and black awnings. And, of course, there is plenty to see: An executioner (in headdress) who demands money or your “life.” Visiting chiefs from “all over.” Dancers. Drummers. And politicians.
Everyone’s destination is the palace where the Paramount Chief’s body lies in state. There were dancers at the entrance.
We encountered a delegation from Dodowa several times throughout the day. Our first meeting was at the Akrofi Christaller Institute, where they were staging for their afternoon of drumming and dancing. We met them again later as they performed, in an alley, for no one in particular, oblivious to our presence, in the sheer joy of percussion and movement.
Tracy had asked me to get a photo of a chief dressed in a particular style of clothing. After watching the Dodowa delegation, Samuel and I introduced ourselves to a chief (Nana) who graciously allowed us to take his photo. Upon completing a few pleasantries, we learned that he works in the US and travels to Ghana twice yearly, always returning to his IT job in Virginia. His people are warriors, as you can see from the rifles decorating his headwear. He was very eager to show us around.
The next two hours were unbelievable. Nana took Samuel and me to his palace where we met diviners. We saw the caretaker chief, ruling until the next chief is installed. He introduced us to dignitaries. We paid our respects to the deceased chief at the palace. (His body was lying on a bed in a gorgeous, gold-decorated, air-conditioned room.) Nana bought us a drink and answered a few of my questions between arguments with other chiefs about migration patterns and past wars. We visited the palace of a chief under him where we were offered and accepted the “local beverage,” a mixture of whiskey and strong herbs. He showed us a special drum made from the skin of a human back. And, we met the chief over him who is responsible for organizing the entire funeral. (I hope I have most of these details correct; it was all quite a blur!) As we walked through crowds, Nana would say (in Twi): “Make way; humans coming through!”
Several people remarked that this funeral is a once-in-a-lifetime event. If that is true for Ghanians, it is doubly true for me. When I look back on today, I’ll remember Samuel’s companionship. I’ll remember Nana’s generosity and hospitality. I’ll remember the drumming. I’ll remember the dancing. And, I’ll remember the red. Everything was red!
—Matt
