By Megan Prydun, 2nd year MDP student
Today we were invited to Kperisi, the
community we will be working in predominantly. Wayne and the Chief of the area
organized an elaborate traditional welcoming ceremony celebrating our arrival
and future work with the people. We arrived in a jam packed van full of
University of Winnipeg and UDS students. We were greeted by the ‘Assembly Man’,
the local government representative of the area. He led us to a mud and stick
building with a design on the front differentiating it from surrounding
buildings. The room was filled with Chiefs, community leaders and elders, and
Tindambas or land-owners. Tindambas are the descendants of the original people
who occupied the land, while at some point in the distant past, others have
moved onto the land. Greetings and the shaking of hands are symbolic and
extremely important in Ghanaian culture. Each member of our party shook the
hands of the recognized men inside. We were offered water, another Ghanaian
custom when meeting someone, and explained our purpose for coming to Kperisi.
The Chief accepted our purpose- to learn from the people of Kperisi and share
with them some of what we know.
Next, we were led to the Prince of the
community’s home. We slipped off our shoes to enter the hut. Inside an elderly
gentleman sat comfortably on a sturdy chair. Chairs arched around him in the
shape of a horse shoe and we shook his hand before taking a seat. The Assembly
Man explained that this Prince is the oldest member of the community and holds
much knowledge and wisdom. Because of this, we shake his hand and honour him.
After this we are led to the traditional healer’s hut. He is known throughout
Ghana as the man who fixes bones. We are told that people come from as far as
Accra to have their bones healed and that people who have seen Western doctors
often visit the traditional healer later to receive better results. We are led
to a small, hot room where a man with a bandage around his thigh is sitting
with two members of his family, a pile of unused wheelchairs and walkers are
stacked in the corner. It appears he broke his femur and is recovering after
receiving help from the healer. On the day his bone was set, a chicken’s leg
was broken. It is believed that when the chicken’s leg heals, so too will the
man’s leg be healed. A proud community
member flashes a hand written notebook at us, leafing through pages and pages
of the names of people who have sought services from the healer and where they
have come from.
We are led through narrow dirt paths
between mud and stick homes, to a fourth and final house. Some leaders are
already there waiting for us. We remove our shoes again and shake each hand.
Another sachet of water is presented to us. This is where the spiritual leader
of the community practices. Although Kperisi is predominantly Muslim, the
community is considered mixed, respecting both Islamic and Christian faiths.
Regardless of belief system, all communities respect the guidance of the chosen
spiritual leader. The Imam fills a calabash of water and pours it out upon the
ground in four dips of the bowl. Water is life no matter where you are. He
murmurs prayers to appease the ancestors under his breath. We watch in
stillness.
And then we are moving again, this time
toward the towering mango tree shading rows of community members with its
reaching branches. The men and women sit in separate sections around the tree.
The women sit with children sprawled all around them, wrapped in colourful
swaths of cloth. There are empty chairs waiting for us to fill them. Music,
hand-made drums and pipe flutes, flood the air. People are dancing, gyrating
their bodies in ways that confound me. Suddenly I am up on my feet, community
members cheering for me to join the dancing. I imitate their actions, pathetic,
but honest in its attempt. My feet shuffle to the rhythm as my hands move in
circles. A women rushes towards me and drapes me with her yellow head scarf.
The fabric covers my head and billows around my body as I cling to the white
embroidered flowers stitched on the edges. There is a beautiful breeze. A group
of us dance toward the row of Chiefs and leaders seated before us. I mimic the
movements of my new friends. Leaders begin pulling out 1 cedi bills and place
them on our foreheads; they stick from the sweat trickling down our faces. This
traditional act of honour brings laughter and cheers from the crowd and we
continue dancing.
The next several hours bring speeches, from
leaders and from us. We express our deep gratitude for the warm welcome and
share some of ourselves with a people who have showed us so much of them. After
more dancing and prayers, we are whisked away from the crowd to a hut in the
heart of the village. A traditional meal is waiting for us, TZ, a thick
cornmeal that kind of looks like mashed potatoes, and cassava leaf soup. We
wash our hands in bowls of water before using them to eat the meal. A week ago
I was in Winnipeg and now I sit in a small village in northern Ghana. The
moment is surreal and I am filled with such gratitude it is difficult to
express in words. As the celebration comes to a close and we drive away, the
dust kicked up from our tires swallows the village and I am left with the feelings
that come from a warm Ghanaian welcome.
