Aboakyer Festival

Aboakyer, also known as the ‘deer hunting festival’,  is organised in honor of the tribal God of Winneba. In this festival, Penkye Otu, their God, receives the sacrifice of a deer. During last week’s AFS trip to the Central Region, we had the fabulous opportunity to experience the climax of this festival.

The Aboakyer festival originated about three hundred years ago, when Winneba was first settled. The people believed they were only able to establish their homes through the instrumentality of their God – who still protects the people of Winneba. This festival expresses their gratitude towards him.

Initially, human beings from the royal family were sacrificed. But as the royal family slowly died out,  the people pleaded with their God to accept a live leopard. The God agreed, and for some time live leopards were offered.

But over time, the leopards injured many and claimed several lives. The people made a desperate appeal to Penkye Otu to accept deers instead of leopards. Legend says that Penkye Otu accepted their request because the blood of deer and leopards is similar to that of man.

The Aboakyer festival involves two groups in Winneba, the Tuafo and the Dentsifo . They compete among themselves to go into the bush and be the first group to catch a deer.

The festival begins in the evening with a brass band marching through the streets of Winneba, singing and dancing. The whole town seems to be involved in the parade, and it goes on as far as the eye can see.

The next day consists of rituals. Libations are poured, prayers are said, and ceremonial guns are fired. The Tuafo and Dentsifo men purify themselves by bathing at the beach. Priests shave their heads and smear themselves with oil. Members of each group offer sacrifices to ancestral spirits for help in the following day’s deer hunt.

The next morning, both groups march to Penkye Otu’s shrine to have roots and herbs be sprinkled on them to ensure their safe return from the hunt. They smear themselves with clay, and wear protective charms and amulets.

After seeing the Omanhene [supreme traditional ruler], they begin hunting for deer. The first group to go is the Tuafo. Armed with only clubs, the group with the first catch rushes back home with war songs and shout of victory. The deer is presented to the Omanhene who places his bare right foot three times on it. After completing this ritual, the deer is lifted up and carried through the town streets by singing and dancing men. Their destination is the shrine of Penkye Otu.

The final act of the festival involves the Tuafo and the Dentsifo coming together before their God to sacrifice the deer.

According to mystics if the first group, the Tuafo, catches the first deer there will be peace and prosperity in the coming group. But if it is caught by the second group, it will be a year of famine and war.

A last word… I’m not really sure why – but many men at the festival could be seen dressing as women. I asked several people for the reasoning for this, but nobody knew. “Whatever,” I thought. “If you’re willing to run into the bush and kill deers with clubs, there’s no reason to question your manhood.”

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Click here to see more photos taken at the Aboakyer festival.

	

My Kente Quilt

I’ve wanted to buy a kente quilt [read: blankey] ever since coming to Ghana, but have held off due to the high cost of  the fabric and not knowing who to buy from. But last week at Tafi Abuife the kente was plentiful, the price was right, the stars were aligned, and I just couldn’t resist.

The following patterns, passed down through multiple generations, were selected for my quilt. Despite appearing simplistic, each of these abstract designs take 5-9 hours to complete a two yard strip. Altogether, the nine strips of kente I chose took a whopping 62 hours to weave.

Steps (Togbe) :

Birds (Afala) :

Hills & Sugarcane (Eto) :

Our People’s Footpath (Mat) :

Life’s Direction (Mor) :

Unity (Ashe) :

Unity #2 (Dekaworwor) :

After paying Aikins for the cloth, we rode motorcycle taxis over to a well-named tailoring shop in a neighboring village. Mary, an extremely nice seamstress, began sewing the kente cloth together strip by strip.  Earlier that day, I had carefully arranged the kente strips to make an evenly laid out design with a very diversified color scheme. It was a very nice layout, but I forgot to tell this to Mary. She stitched the strips together according to what she thought would look good, which I was completely okay with. After all, she’s the expert! After 45 minutes, Mary finished sewing my quilt without breaking a sweat [or removing her hair curlers]. The end product looks decidedly more original and ‘African’ than the almost symmetrical layout I had planned, and I am glad that I ‘let’ a Ghanaian arrange the kente design. Special thank you to Chris & Aikins for introducing me to their wonderful village.

Tafi Abuife Kente Village

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_o68hQB9rm4

Kente weaving is an ancient art, its roots dating before 3000 B.C. This past week Drew, Adriana, and I visited the largest kente village in Ghana – Tafi Abuife.

Aikins, our friendly guide, gave us a tour around the village of 3000. Every child is taught the art of weaving kente upon reaching the age of seven – as a birthright, responsibility, and means of making money. The ‘click clack’ sound of looms can be heard across the village.

Kente weaving was inspired by intricate spider webs in the ancient forests of Ghana. Legend says that two hunters found an exceptional web, and studied its designs and patterns for two days. Afterwards, they returned to their village to implement what they had seen. Kente was known as the ‘cloth of kings’ due to the cost and time required to weave it. Even with modern-day technology, it is still woven by hand. Each strip is classified by the number of weaves used to make it. A single weave takes five hours to complete, a double weave takes seven hours, and a triple weave takes a whopping nine hours.

Everything about kente is symbolic – the colors, symbols, and geometric designs. Common designs include those of unity, birds, hills, and our footprints as human beings.

My favorite part of the tour was getting to see the ‘weaving houses.’ These sweatshop-like buildings were built by the government to ensure that kente could still be produced during the rainy season. There are three of these buildings in all.

Kente sellers were eager for us to try on their goods to potentially make a sale. Their tactics worked; I now own the two satchels seen in the photo below.

All in all, it was great seeing kente being produced firsthand. I would have loved to stay overnight in the village for a weaving apprenticeship, but my time was limited. But that didn’t keep me from ordering a custom-made kente blanket, the subject of tomorrow’s post!

What Money Can’t Buy

Cape Coast Castle, a nearly 500-year-old slave castle, sits on the edge of the picturesque Atlantic ocean. From my seat in the Castle Restaurant, I gazed at the enormous waves crashing onto the rocky shore – while eagerly awaiting my bowl of coconut curry.

The rocks on the shore formed a natural staircase, winding around the back of the castle. Six foot waves crash into the rocks, flinging wide-eyed crabs high in the air. The previous day, Drew and I attempted climbing around the rocks – but we made the mistake of going barefoot. After 30 minutes we gave up, our feet begging for mercy.

After several minutes of staring absentmindedly into the ocean, I noticed a figure move from the shadows of the castle towards the main rocks. His legs were scantily thin, his face gaunt, and his clothes noticeably ill-fitting. The man’s face had a distinct five ‘oclock shadow. But despite all the telltale signs of him living in some form of poverty, his stride had a certain ‘bounce’ to it.

I watched the man as he strode towards the puddles lying on top of the rocky shore. Wasting no time, he removed his clothes and began to bathe himself. Having nothing to use as a washcloth or sponge, he used his muscular hands to voraciously scrub his skin. After several minutes of washing himself [without any soap], he was finished.  He dunked his face in the water several times, giving off the energy of a new man.

He paused for a few seconds, staring into the horizon. He wore nothing except his self-pride. The man proceeded to carefully wash his clothes in the sea.   He  had no change of clothes, so he dressed himself with the damp clothing, and began walking away.

Somewhere in the middle of this, a traditional drumming band started their daily rehearsal. The rich beats and intense chanting breathed new life into the ancient castle. The crabs scurried on the rocks; the waves were energized; the air somehow became lighter.

The last I ever saw of the man was him dancing behind the castle.