Features
Festivals and human stomachs
Festivals are supposed to be an important part of our lives such that once in every year, every single soul in the capital is supposed to go back to his or her people to celebrate, drink fresh palm wine and crack grass- cutter bones.
But how many people think of going back to celebrate the festivals of their origin?
Perhaps if we had a Secretary for Festival Affairs with plenary powers to ensure that once in a year, everyone goes back to his grandfather’s village to celebrate the festival of his people, the importance of festivals might be more appreciated.
It is so sad to note that because of financial, mourning and ‘brokages,’ many don’t dare go back to their villages during annual leaves and festivals.
Festivals as we know are inseparable from our culture and as such, indissolubly linked with our roots.
Anyone who is therefore a hopeless ignoramus as far as the festivals of his people are concerned is in a cultural wilderness, lost and cannot be found. A search-party would be on a wild goose chase unless he himself retraces his steps to his origin to learn the ways of old.
Since most people have taken the capital of Sikaman as their hometown, many Anlos for instance do not know about Hogbetsotso, the northerners, bom and bred in Accra have never witnessed the Dambai festival; Oguaas forget the Fetu and the Ada’s, the Asafotufiam. Instead, every- one becomes well-acquainted with Homowo.
The very first time I joined the Gas to celebrate their Homowo festival was way back in 1973, I was a little kid. As I had many Ga friends, I was in high spirits. I took my time and consumed an unholy quantity of kpokpoi, the cherished traditional meal for the festival. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, but I was uninformed about the dosage.
It was getting close to midnight when I realised that kpokpoi was not only a very delicious festive dish, but also a rather powerful traditional purgative.
It took me some four hours to get through since it was a wake-keeping of commuting from my bedroom to the lavatory to cope with the frequency of my free bowels. The following year I was more cautious and took the right dosage.
Quite ironically, I have celebrated, or should I say, witnessed more Homowo festivals than the Yam Festival of my people. But that does not make me ignorant. We used to look forward to it every year and the most interesting aspect was the contests organised to select the most attractive, largest or weightiest “new” yam. It was a sort of beauty pageant where yams were the exuberant contestants.
Today, when my people are celebrating the Yam Festival back home, and I’m unable to go, I also celebrate mine quietly in the capital with my mother, brothers and sisters. We eat otor, yam slices, yam fufu and chicken soup, with yam-balls as dessert. We don’t have drumming and dancing, though.
Most festivals are celebrated following the harvest season in farming and fishing communities. The festivals are celebrated to praise and acknowledge the blessings of the gods for the bountiful harvests bestowed upon us mortals. With poor harvests therefore, the celebrations become lukewarm. Man must chop!
Traditional African societies have superstitious beliefs associated with folkways, norms and general manner of life. The celebration of festivals is therefore not entirely free from certain taboos and superstitions.
The reader would please, allow for a little digression. A child who grows in the capital of Sikaman knows nothing about the taboos associated with his origin. He, for instance, refuses to believe that some clans do not kill snakes just because it is their belief that a snake had something to do with the perpetration of their clan. Others do not eat corn because they believe one of their great chiefs was poisoned through a meal prepared from corn etc.
Other taboos are observed because the gods say they must be. There is a river god in Sikaman which forbids anyone going to the river at night with lantern.
A white man on tour who said he never believed that ‘superstitious nonsense’ since he was a devout Christian who had been fully baptised and receives communion regularly, defied the villagers and took a lantern to the riverside one night.
Of course, what he met at the place, I can’t quite describe. Fact is he himself could not even describe it because he had to do a fast sprint to escape the monster that pursued him. Since then, our Kwasi Broni friend has learnt to respect some of our dos and don’ts. I know he had quite a story to tell his countrymen when he went back, unless he wanted to stay here forever to do thorough research into African taboos.
It is a taboo to be seen eating newly harvested yam before the fetish priest performs the necessary rites that usher in the celebration of the Yam Festival at my area. This is to ensure that the gods taste of it before dwellers of the land take their turn.
I had occasion to talk to Togbi Teiku (V), Dufia of Matse Dzeve (not my hometown), known in private life as Mr Joshua Addo. The Yam Festival celebrated at his area, he says, are preceded by certain rites, which he cannot ignore irrespective of his Christian background and intellectual attainments.
He does not take alcohol, not even occasionally. But when it comes to performing the rites associated with the stool and the land during festivals, he must forget about his healthy conscious habits and let the palm wine descend his throat, enroute to the stomach.
Indeed, festivals have a meaning to our lives. However, receptive we might be to the impact of western culture, we must not forget that we have our own culture which we must enrich through the endeavour of going back from where we’ve run.
What would be the meaning of our lives as a clan, tribe or people when we cannot find time once every year to revel in festivity for the enjoyment of it, to meet old friends, and make more acquaintances, get used to our folklores and customs, and above all rejoice the blessings of good harvests and the like?
Festivals are also useful to non-resident citizens of every locality. It affords the city dweller the opportunity to ascertain the true condition prevailling in their rural communities so that when the Town Development Committee comes out to say that non-resident females must contribute GH¢1,000 and their male counterparts GH¢1,500 for development projects, they cannot grumble.
You certainly wouldn’t complain because after a heavy festive meal you will sooner or later need the services of a KVIP since you cannot carry the stuff in your stomach back to a city water-closet.
And when you realise that there is no KVIP around, except for a dangerous-looking pit-laterine that had been constructed half a century ago, you’ll understand that if you do not contribute the specified amount you may not be able to retire to the village to spend your pension days, when it is due.
This article was first published
on Saturday August 25, 1990
Features
The Prophet part 2
“I can see in the spirit, that some of you have been trading for years without seeing any meaningful profits, some young women have been disappointed by men who have either abandoned them and left for foreign lands and forgotten about them, or stopped sending money for the upkeep of their wives and children.
I can see young men who are desperate for visas to travel abroad but have either been duped by visa contractors or refused at the embassies. From tomorrow, I assure you, the visas will be given.
Young women, I have news for you. You will receive telephone calls, and you will hear very good news. Handsome young men with money in their pockets will come and marry you, and take care of you. Traders, you will get big business and big profits from today. From today, you will see that I am a true prophet who has come to deliver you.”
Shouts of “Amen,” “thank you Prophet” and “I receive it” greeted his sermon. After a final prayer, he asked the congregation to come early the following day, and bring others, because there would be many testimonies.
There would also be “special anointing” for great miracles. Although he did not ask for an offering, most of the people came and dropped notes, and coins at the “pulpit.” When they left, Antobam counted the money.
“GH¢900!” he almost shouted, ‘and I did not even ask for an offering. This is fantabulous!’ Going to the Nana Kofi Broni shrine, he told himself, was a very wise move.
He started making plans……He had to choose a few assistants who would carry out his orders……. He had to hire some chairs as soon as possible……He had to find a suitable piece of land and, if possible, build his own church……. He had to start looking for a nice car, befitting the status of a popular preacher …… And, most importantly, he had to select two, three or four nice, young women to take care of his needs, apart from the servants who would cook, wash, iron and do other errands for him.
Abruptly, he told himself, this hungry, scruffy Kukurantumi boy was being transformed into a man of power and money, with some of the most beautiful women in town at his beck and call. Wow!
After a shower and supper, he shut the door to the very small room that served as his bedroom and dropped on the bed. Almost immediately, the shrill sounds, like whispers, began.
This time he did not express any fears. He realised to his great surprise that even though the sounds were not in the form of any language, he could understand them.
Tomorrow there will be testimonies……they will give money……. some rich people are being prepared …….they will bring big money ………. we will give them what they want, and they will bring money ……. big money …….big, big money……the women will also come, a number of them. ‘
He went to sleep smiling and whispering to himself, ‘big, big money, and women!’
He woke up at 5 and took a shower. After a breakfast of tea and several slices of bread he set off. On reaching the venue he saw to his great surprise that the place was full.
Very full, and quite a number of people rushed to embrace him and give him the wonderful news. The excited people narrated the testimonies about big sales, telephone calls from relatives directing them to go to Western Union, and impotent husbands who had miraculously rediscovered their magic powers.
He was truly glad that Nana Kofi Broni’s magic had already started working, but most of his attention was focused on the ladies in the congregation. He noticed to his great delight that some of them were really nice. I must start making my selection, he told himself. Today!
“Give a mighty clap offering to the great, mighty one for his wonders among us!” he started, and the response was very big.
“I said yesterday that you were going to see signs and wonders, and I am very happy that my word has been fulfilled. Even though we have taken allowed one hour for testimonies, many more of you would like to testify.
Tomorrow, I promise you that there will be ample time. I will only preach a short sermon. The rest of the time will be taken up by consultations, after which I will give directions on what to do to ensure that you defeat your enemies, secure your marriage and, most importantly, continue increasing your profits in your business.” His sermon was interspersed with ecstatic shouts of “Amen,” “it is true,” “God bless you” and “I receive it.”
His final word was emphatic; “Big miracles are coming your way. Keep attending church, and don’t forget to give thanks to God.”
By Ekow de Heer
Features
Full Gospel Businessmen Fellowship launches project to transform young lives
The Full Gospel Businessmen’s Fellowship International (FGBMFI) Ghana has launched the Senior High Schools and Colleges Project (SCP) aimed at empowering and transforming the lives of young people.
Speaking at the launch, Professor Mike Ocquaye, the former Speaker of Parliament, emphasised the need to catch them young and train them as the current times were challenging.
He lauded the project, calling on all to support it, saying “In fact, it’s very important to catch them young, train them, lead them, guide them, and mentor them because the times are indeed rough,” Prof. Ocquaye said.
Mr Ekow Egyir Dadson, the Director, Schools and Colleges Directorate, stated that since its inception in 2018, the SCP had reached over 70 educational institutions with countless testimonies of transformation.
“We began with the Presbyterian Boys Secondary School (PRESEC) Legon, and now in 2024, we have visited 74 schools and impacted the lives of over 100,000 students, some of whom were personally mentored and now have graduated from the universities.”
He explained that the SCP, a vision by FGBMFI Ghana, was a bold outreach programme designed to call young people to Christ, train and equip them for the future.
He cited testimony-sharing, mentorship, career guidance, entrepreneurship and counseling as some of the unique approaches to be used in reaching out to the targeted students.
Mr Emmanuel Baba Mahama, the National President of the FGBMFI Ghana, launched the SCP Manual, which would help the FGBMFI Zonal Family Chapters across Ghana in order to adopt schools and colleges within their catchment areas.
The Schools and Colleges project is making a great impact; we have had first-hand testimonies from school heads, teachers, and students (mentees) about the SCP. This project has come to stay, Mr Baba Mahama assured.
He, therefore, called for more volunteers and partners to help the SCP shape the next generation of leaders and citizens.
Findings by the FGBMFI revealed that Ghana’s senior high schools, colleges, and university students face growing challenges like addictions, indiscipline, poor academic performance, pornography, homosexuality, broken homes, and a lack of godly guidance.
That had been a concern to many parents and society, “but the FGBMFI believes there is hope to rescue and restore these young students,” Mr Mahama said. –GNA
