The beginning of Wisdom Is knowing who you are. Draw near and listen. -- Swahili Proverb.My trip to Ghana was eventful, and eye-opening in many ways. I think every African of the diaspora who can, should make a pilgrimage back to Africa, to see whence they came, to repair the ancestral links broken by the Middle Passage. I made the journey to the slave castle/dungeons at Cape Coast and Elmina, and I have to tell you that there is still there a heavy presence. The photo to the right is of a traditional Akan priest who maintains a simple shrine at Cape Coast Castle dungeon. The castles have been scrubbed and whitewashed, with assistance from USAID. The Smithsonian put up a similarly whitewashed slave "museum" at Cape Coast Castle with an antiseptic sort of feel which had me and others ready to puke. But then you get into the dungeon, and I swear that when the guide came in his narrative to describing the purpose of the little trench that ran the length of the dungeon-- it was where the captives had to go to relieve themselves-- an odor of human excrement wafted heavy and stifling. It was like a punctuation mark, an odor effect that came, hung for a fleeting second or two, then disappeared. I wondered if it was my imagination, which it may well have been, but my friend on the bus said she experienced the same thing in the women's dungeon. The men tried to stay strong, but when we linked up with the women who had gone separately to the women's dungeon, many were weeping as they trudged out. Some had to be supported. My lady friend on the bus was one of them. The next day, when we went to Elmina Castle, she was unable to go into the dungeon. She is spiritually sensitive, and the presence there was just too heavy, too overwhelming. An African of the diaspora cannot go to these places without being moved to the core of their being, all the whitewash notwithstanding, and without at the end also feeling that their return to that spot where our ancestors endured so much suffering was somehow healing, both for them and for the many ancestors whose suffering and deaths went unnoted and unmourned. I bought a T-shirt that read "I returned through the Door of No-Return." That somehow summed up the whole experience: we survived.
As we of the diaspora return, one by one, to make that pilgrimage, to reconnect physically and spiritually with the continent that gave birth to all mankind, that gave birth to civilization, I feel certain that the stage is being set for us to return to that civilizing mission that the Almighty saw fit to repose in the African. The forces of anti-civilization have the planet in a death grip, and the evidence of the slave dungeons is a stark reminder of the crimes, so far unatoned, and unrepaired, that this bad boy the barbarian has committed. If unatoned, reparations at least were paid for Auschwitz; thus far, none have been paid for Cape Coast, Elmina, and the other slave castle/dungeons that dot the West African coast line. Even in South Africa, it would seem as though the only reparations that will be paid by the barbarians who stole the land and labor of the Africans there under the guise of "apartheid" is to appear before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Makes me want to weep. Be that as it may, more important than reparations perhaps is the survival of the planet. Its redemption and release from the death-grip of the barbarian will fall to us, the African of the continent, and the diaspora. I exhort all to make that pilgrimage, and to get in touch with the civilizing values that Africa brought to the planet, and which need to be reclaimed.
There is a strong implication in what I say, perhaps startling to some, that Western "civilization" is actually a form of anti-civilization. I will attempt to explain.
In Africa in general, Ghana being no exception, there is in the culture a palpable sense that God, spirit, and the ancestors are a 24/7 preoccupation. You enter a person's home, they offer you a drink, and your first act must be to pour a libation to those on the other side who have gone before. No deliberation takes place, no decision is taken without first calling on God and the ancestors to witness it, and to guide it. In this way, the African feels that by the time he dies, and reports in spirit for judgment, there would be no dark secrets to weigh heavy on his heart. He lives life in such a way as to be worthy, on death, of joining the company of honored ancestors. I connect this practice-- the African libation--to civilization because I cannot think of a surer requirement of civilization than that the culture that claims to be civilized makes it the habit and custom for all of its citizens, from the high and mighty on down to the lowliest, to invite God and the ancestors to guide and witness every act, large and small, that may ever be contemplated. By contrast, the present dominant world culture really has no notion of what it means to be civilized other than that imputed by meaningless externals, such as the wearing of clothes, habits of hygiene, the mastery of arts, sciences and technology, as if the barbarian who learns rocket science thereby acquires what it takes to attain to a civilized state. I say that such "learning" is neither necessary nor sufficient as a factor that determines whether a culture may be deemed to be "civilized." By contrast, a people who by habit and custom seek always to do right by God and the ancestors cannot fail to be "civilized" in ways that truly matter. I give just two contrasting examples: one, Western "civilization," which, for all its wealth, is founded on the double theft of land and labor--whether by feudal lords, empire builders, slaveholders, colonialists, neo-colonialists, or capitalists--leading to a mountain of misery for some, even as a mountain of wealth may well be accumulated by those who organize the system for their benefit; two, in contrast, traditional African society sought to organize itself communally, which precluded the exploitation of man by man as the fundamental organizing principle of the society, and made unthinkable the premise of, say, Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables," or Dicken's "Tale of Two Cities," namely that private property could take precedence as a fundamental human value over the feeding of the hungry and the dispossessed. In this context, I note also that the symbolism of the cross originated in Africa. In one of its meanings, the vertical represents God and one's ancestors above, and one's descendants below, while the horizontal represents one's extended family --matrikin to one side, patrikin to the other -- present with one on the earth plane. With this view of self and the world, it is easy to see why the African is as communally oriented as he is, in contrast to the European who gives greater value to rugged individualism. It is not seen that individualism is at some level antithetical to civilization. I had some of these thoughts before going to Ghana, but reflecting on the ubiquitous pouring of libations everywhere I went, and the idea behind it, together with the attempt of colonialists to disparage it and all traditional practices as "uncivilized," I had to question really who was more "civilized," the slaver and the colonialist who gave us Cape Coast and Elmina castles, or the supposed savage whose land and labor the colonialist sought to steal.
Making the pilgrimage to the slave dungeons at Cape Coast and Elmina castles made it very easy to make up my mind on that question. A barbarian for the time being with the technological superiority of gun and gun-boat is still a barbarian, not relieved by professions of biblical faith once a week on Sundays. I am more impressed by a faith and a belief system that requires adherence 24/7.
But that aside, I was very impressed by the dignity of the Ghanaians. These people know where they came from, and they have a long history of which they are proud, although they admit to shameful episodes, slavery being one of them. (As Europeans are quick to point out, the African had a role in the slave trade, which the African does not deny, while insisting that African notions of "slavery"--indentured servitude, not chattel slavery--do not entail stripping the slave of his humanity or his human rights, and allow for the "slave," like Joseph in the Bible, to rise from "slave" to become valued citizen, even minister or general. Western chattel slavery, unbeknownst to the Africans who collaborated in the trade, was of a different sort.) Be that as it may, I was struck by the traditional garment that is worn by them called "ntomo." This garment is basically a long cloth, typically kente, which is wrapped in a style reminiscent of a Roman toga. They tell the story of Italians who came to the then "Gold Coast" remarking that they, the Akan people who wear the ntomo, must have copied it from the ancient Romans. The Akan very confidently replied that more likely the Romans copied it from them! The Akan trace their ancestry back to Kamit, and possibly to the people referred to in the Bible as the Akkadians.
I attended two durbars, which are grand occasions presided over by traditional rulers. The ones I attended were by minor chiefs--I didn't get to meet the Asantehene! (see photo at left, scanned from a postcard) --but the traditional protocol and pageantry were nevertheless evident. Everybody dresses up for these events, if not in ntomo, then in some other traditional African garb, like the "akbada," which I wore. Looking resplendent, people seem to behave with added dignity. Fulsome libations to God and the ancestors add to the dignity of the occasion. Then the drummers get into the act, and it is hard not to get carried away with the sense of occasion that is a grand durbar. Then after the ceremonial activities are concluded, what is left is basically a big party, and I do seem to recall hearing a little of Bob Marley coming over the speakers--they love reggae in Africa. Need I add: Africans love to party!
The handicrafts are of excellent quality. The West has fostered a general impression of African incompetence, providing thereby cover for their nefarious colonialist and neo-colonialist depredations. When you examine African handiwork up close, however, whether it is traditional hand-woven kente cloth, wood carvings-- stools, furniture, walking sticks, masks, etc.-- jewellery, metal-work, leather sandals, etc., you cannot help but be struck by the beauty and the solidity of design and execution. It is not hard then to credit what the historical record increasingly reveal. Far from being the ignorant, uncivilized savage that the colonialist felt it convenient to portray, the African is rather the father of mankind and of civilization, and far from lacking in the creativity, sensitivity, and inventiveness that led to the African being first in every art and science, from medicine to civil engineering, from music to mathematics, from dance to religion, from iron-making to boat-building.
They are a healthy, handsome people, quick to smile, usually to reveal good, strong teeth. I don't think they fluoridate the water, so the dental health as compared with Americans must be due I suspect to a healthier diet. Food and fruit are plentiful in the markets. For the equivalent of about two dollars you can buy about 30 lbs of oranges, pineapples, pawpaw (papaya to Americans) and other fruit. Tv advertising is hard at work trying to wean the people away from their traditional, healthy diets to the overly sweet, fatty, processed foods and sugared soft drinks that will be sure to bring diabetes, high blood pressure, dental caries and other typically Western ailments in their wake. Africa does not need McDonald's and KFC, nor Coke and Pepsi. Thankfully, we had some beautiful traditional meals which reassure me that the Ghanaians will not so easily buy into the clever tv advertisments pushing "modern" tastes. Coke though would appear to have come and conquered. Be that as it may, what seemed clear to me, if Ghana is any indication, is that Africa and Africans can feed themselves, if left to themselves, Western media visions of starving Africans notwithstanding.
I saw a spiritualist (see photo at right) who was able to tell me the questions I had in mind even before I asked them, and in another language (Twi) that had to be translated for my benefit. This kind of experience is very humbling, and makes one realize the absolute unimportance of externals in the larger scheme of things. She was wearing a grass skirt and was naked from the waist up, having changed in accordance with ancient custom into the "work" outfit for spiritual readings. It forces one to realize that wisdom, or at least the mysteries of the universe, go far beyond the kind of stuff that my Western Ph.D training gave me.
As with the core definition/requirements of "civilization" earlier discussed, a Western preoccupation with externals, eg. clothes or the lack, and "high-tech" gadgetry will only leave one confused. As Neely Fuller said "if you do not understand white supremacy, every thing else that you understand will only confuse you." That is why as overused a word as "civilized" is in the West, is as poorly defined in the West as it is. It has to be, otherwise the enslaver and oppressor would have no basis on which to claim to be anything other than barbarian. The "civilized world," undefined, of which Western leaders so often speak is not what one might think it is. Suffice it to say that Africa and the Africans are not what the Western world and the Western word portray them to be.
I expect to be back there often and soon, and I urge every other African of the diaspora to make that pilgrimage himself. The wise men of that continent say that when we on this side return through the "Door of No-return," is when the liberation of Africa and the African will begin, and the salvation of the planet from the death-grip of the barbarian along with that.
Which somehow reminds me... I came down with malaria. Not fun. The doctor who treated me happens to be a traditional African priest as well as being a cardiac surgeon. He told me that malaria is a blessing in some ways. First, it is a form of initiation, although not one that one chooses for oneself. Second, he said, without malaria, the African would be in much worse shape than he is vis-à-vis the colonizers. So much so that in at least one African country, I believe Guinea, the mosquito is revered, and there is a special honor called the "Order of the Mosquito" awarded to those who distinguished themselves in the liberation struggle. Small consolation on both accounts, although the idea that I may have been initiated into the Order of the Mosquito has some unavoidable humor in it. In any case, "Onyame adom, me ho ye", as they say in Twi, which means "by the grace of God, I am well." And I am grateful for that.
S. F. Thomas
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