Thursday, 29 September 2016

Thumb, the Tell-tale




Retold by

Akoli Penoukou


Instructions:    To say this African nursery rhyme, stretch your left fingers. Then use your right forefinger to touch them as you call their names.

(Touch the thumb):                    This one cries: Ne! Ne! Ne!
(Touch the forefinger):              This one asks: What is the matter?
(Touch the middle finger):         This one replies: It is hungry.
(Touch the ring finger):              This one says: Food is in the fridge.
(Touch the little finger):             This one says: Let us eat it.
(Touch the thumb again):           This one says: I will tell Mama.
(Bend and unbend the thumb):  The thumb really told Mama.
                                                   The thumb is a tell-tale.
                                                   The thumb is a tell-tale.
                                                   The thumb is a tell-tale.

Beyond the Forbidden Frontiers



      Traitor, concubine, sacrilegious person, they called her. Of course, they didn’t say it to her hearing, but thirty-year-old Mrs. Golda Achraoui knew that those words lurked behind the scowls and snarled on the murmuring lips.
      What former Miss Dayan thought would be a normal marital life when she and her husband Zaad Achraoui returned to the Holy land turned out to be a war of nerves. This was not unexpected. The Jewish state did not accept nor recognised marriages between Israeli Jews and Palestinian Moslems and Christians; most Israelis and a few Palestinians also did not favor it; but she had not expected such severe reactions to their union.    
      It all began at the Tel Aviv Ben Gurion international airport. Zaad carried their nine-month-old daughter Wafa, babbling happily on his left shoulder, and fondly linked arms with Golda as they strutted toward the Border Control Hall. People gawked at them, but they ignored them and tightened the grip mutually. But the more people muttered things, the more Golda felt Zaad’s fingers disengaging from hers until at the Customs control she found herself groping desperately for them. Not finding her husband’s fingers, Golda’s hand dropped limply by her side and she swallowed hard.
              “You’ve excess duty-free items for individauls,” the unsmiling customs official said when they declared their personal effects.
      “They’re for me and my wife,” Zaad said.
      The officer pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Five hundred Shekel,--” A little over $100--he muttered.
      Zaad and Golda stared at each other. As couples they could bring in what they had duty-free. But according to the law, their mixed marriage was illegitimate.
      The corners of her mouth turned down, Golda grabbed Zaad’s arm as he dug into his pocket for his wallet. “I’ll pay this inhuman tax,” Golda blurted out. A sudden pounding came from her heart, under the green wool turtleneck. A lump jumped into her long throat and her fingers twitched as she fished for the money in her purse. Golda found the bills, ignored the official’s outstretched hand, and banged them on the counter top and pouted.
      Zaad squeezed Golda’s hand but she jerked it from his grip.
      Soon, they headed for the Palestinian territories. The same acrimonious behavior from the Israeli soldiers till they reached Nablus where Zaad’s family lived. They passed by a group of Palestinian adolescents. Golda clutched Wafa tightly to her chest and cast stealthy
glances about. Having been told for years that Palestinians were vile and blood-thirsty, it became a reflex to get tense in their presence. But Golda’s hold on Wafa soon slackened as the group answered Zaad’s greetings brightly.
      Zaad’s family hugged them and and kissed Wafa all over. For the first time since her return to the Middle East, Golda felt relaxed.
      Grand-daughter of Austrian and Hungarian Jews who had fled Europe to Israel during the Second World War, no statistics could have predicted Golda meeting Zaad, orphan born in exile of parents part of the 415 Palestinians deported from Gaza by the Israeli army.
      Curios about Palestinians, adolescent Golda attended a conference at a local cultural center about the occupied territories. After the talk by the eminent speaker, some of her misconceptions about Palestinians vanished like bubbles into thin air. At home, she sought answers to other questions but got only more lectures on how terrible and primitive Palestinians were. But the more lectures she received, the less convinced she became, so much so that when time came for her obligatory military service, Golda fled to Australia in order not to have to fight Palestinians. On her return, she joined a voluntary aid group working in the occupied territories. There, she met Zaad and it was, as they say, love at first sight. Her parents were deeply shattered by the news and tried hard to dissuade her. But Golda had found her heart’s desire. A year later she joined Zaad at Beit El, near to Ramallah. Two years later, they decided to get married at Cyprus. From there they flew to Germany. They were returning after a year and a half’s stay. Golda wanted to raise Wafa in Middle Eastern culture.
      Their arrival coincided with the sparking off of Intifada by the Palestinians.
      That evening the streets of Nablus bustled with angry Palestinian youths yelling: “Wipe off Israel!” Golda sat tense in a couch, breathing hard. Her small eyes narrowed into slits. Wafa bawled and Zaad clutched her to his bosom.
      The children now hurled stones at the Israeli soldiers who fired sporadic shots at them.  Soon ambulances began to wail. Golda grabbed her head. She wished all this was a piece of writing on a blackboard, to be wiped off with the stroke of a duster. Instead she jumped at each peal of gunfire and soon was gripping her dark hair and tearing the profuse tufts descending right to her backbones.  Golda gritted her teeth now and stamped her feet at the screaming of the women and the dying. Was Zaad torn between the Jews and Palestinians like her? she wondered. In the glacial calm of his long face, she couldn’t tell.
Golda retired to bed wishing she didn’t belong here! Zaad fondled her to calm her down after he had coaxed Wafa to sleep, but Golda felt as if a stranger ‘s cold hands crawled over her body.
      The next day, Israel declared Nablus “closed military zone.” Each day more Palestinian children poured into the streets, and more Israeli soldiers penetrated into the occupied teritories. More people got injured on both sides and more Palestinians died. Golda recoiled so much into herself that after three days Zaad stopped trying to cheer her up.
A lull came at the end of a week.
They moved to Ramallah.
Then the Intifada picked up steam.
      Months passed. Then it was time for the feast of Aïd el Kebir. Zaad wanted to celebrate it at Nablus. The occupied territories had been cordoned off. The only way to reach
Nablus was by foot. That was some four hours of trekking over mountainous paths and bare countryside. Golda was pregnant and that worried Zaad. Could she manage?
Golda nodded.
      They set off  the following day at dawn, backpacks strapped to their backs. Zaad carried Wafa on his shoulders. In the beginning they hurried and exchanged some words. Soon their lively conversation turned into silence. Zaad occasionally spoke a word of encouragement. Golda grunted in reply.
After walking for one hour, the sun’s searing rays flooded the naked landscape. It became hard to go up the mountainous paths. Sweat drenched their clothes. Wafa, who had been sleeping, woke up under the heat and began to bawl. They stopped occasionally to give her milk or some biscuit. Soon, Golda felt her feet getting heavy. Her delicate soles burnt in the hiking shoes.
“Could we take a rest?” she whispered when they came to a fig tree. The thin lips fluttered and the slim nose twitched.
Zaad nodded and took down her bag. He wriggled out of his as Golda sank to the stony ground with Wafa. She breathed hard and Zaad took off her shoes.
“You’re okay?” Zaad asked. Globules of perspiration hugged her forehead.
Golda nodded. Zaad stared intently at her. She felt as if she was seeing his dark, inquisitive eyes, long nose ending in medium nostrils, and the large ears standing off his head for the first time. And her heart blossomed for him again.
Zaad rubbed ointment on her soles. Golda felt a searing pain and then a soothing cold, and the pain was gone. She smiled at Zaad who smiled back. “Okay?” he asked.
Golda nodded. “I’m okay,” she said. It came out as a raucous croak and she cleared her throat. She watched Zaad stare into the distance, triangular lines at the corner of his eye. What was he thinking of? The distance? Maybe the ordeal. Golda herself was wondering why she accepted it. Being of bourgeois parents, and armed with a Master of Arts degree in International Affairs with a concentration in Middle Eastern Studies, she could easily have lived well in Israel. But love made her choose to tread this torturous path.
“Ready?” Zaad said.
“Yes, let’s continue.” It would be good to cover a good distance before the sun became unbearable. She gave him her arm and he dragged her to her feet. Golda felt giddy for a while and then she was okay. She took in a deep breath, released it and they set out again and reached Nablus shortly before ten.
Golda heard a tick tock tick tock in her ears like a clock ticking in there. She realized the sound matched her heartbeat. Her back, shoulders, and legs ached. As for her waist, she thought it had been pummelled with clubs. The sweat dried on her arms, leaving fine deposits of salt. Golda sank into the big leather chair offered her.
Zaad’s family members grouped around them and stared at them with curiousity.
“We’ve been walking for four hours,” Zaad breathed.
The family howled and turned their incredulous, compassionate looks on Golda.  Zaad’s aunt dropped on her knees before Golda, hugged her and rocked with sobs. Golda threw her arms around her and sniffled too.
Golda raised her head to see all the others wiping tears from their faces. Her heart rose for the compassion yet her conscience troubled her. Wasn’t it the army of her country which has imposed the blockade on the territories, forcing them to walk?
Aïd itself was an unforgetable experience. There was so much to eat. The shrill quality returned to Golda’s voice and she became carefree like a child and laughed a lot. Her small, dark eyes lit up, brightening the serious face. If she had to walk each year to celebrate the Aïd at Nablus, Golda told herself that she’d gladly do it.
Golda now worked as coordinator at Ramallah for HelpThePeople, a British not-for-profit organization. Zaad still served as foreman in a construction firm. Wafa was already six, with long dark hair, keen eyes, and loved school. Hussain, a boy much like his father in looks, was a little over three years old and in nursery school. The last born, another boy called Akbar, light-complexioned, was turbulent. But that didn’t worry Golda. Wafa was putting further strain on her marriage. 
“Why don’t you take me to my grand-parents?” Wafa would ask at times.
When Golda said that was impossible, she asked why.
Golda would sigh and swallow hard. “They’re ultra-orthodox Jews and wouldn’t want to see you or me, much less Papa,” she would explain.
“Why?” Wafa insisted one day.
She might as well tell her now. “They don’t like Palestinians,” Golda said and Zaad stared sharply at her.
“I know,” Wafa said, her round face bright with recognition. “They’re afraid that Papa would bomb them.”
Golda and Zaad stared at each other with raised eyebrows and burst into laughter.
Another time she asked: “Would I serve in the tsahal?”
“No, you’re Palestinian.”
“That’s better,” she said in her childish, feminine voice, “because I don’t want to shoot at Papa’s people.”
Golda breathed hard. She could live as Jew whenever she wished. But were her children to be torn between Palestine and Israel, experience more internal turmoil than her?
Or another time when Wafa asked, “What’s my religion, Mama?”
“You don’t have any,” she said. “I belong to Judaism and Papa is Moslem. You’d choose yours when you grow up.”
Or the most serious when another crisis broke out: “Mama, why do we and Israelis fight all the time?”
“”It’s a long story, dear. I’ll tell you about it one day.” In fact she didn’t know exactly what to say without taking sides.
Daily Golda realized that if it was easy for the heart to cross the forbidden frontiers, on the other hand it wasn’t so for the body and the mind to run away from the painful realities of the Israelo-Palestinian conflict.

Traditional Marriage in Africa



WARNING: Although this piece is about Marriage in Africa, don't extrapolate what is described here to the whole of the African continent. Even within a single country, marriage can be as different as day and night.

For a girl in traditional Africa, the prerequisite to marriage is her first menstruation. Therefore when Ama, an Ashanti girl of Ghana in West Africa experienced her first period, her mother woke her up at dawn and made her take a cold bath. Then the mother went about the village beating a gong. The villagers came to her house to find Ama seated outside. An elderly lady lifted and dropped Ama three times unto a stool. Then the gathering broke into song and dance until the family head arrived to perform the rest of the ceremonies.
Since it is a man and rarely a woman who proposes to a man in traditional African societies, it happened that at this time Kofi Kyei was ready to get married. He first spoke discretely to Ama Jantuah who appeared interested in him. He then asked his parents to ask for her hand for him. This is the normal procedure. But sometimes parents or relatives, impressed by a girl’s exemplary character, will suggest her to their son and then proceed to engage her for him.
 Generally marriage is a union between a man and a woman; but it is the way this wedlock is effected which differs from one society to the other. However one can claim that the general aim of marriage is to live with someone of the opposite sex and to have companionship and children with that person.
In traditional African societies marriage is an elaborate affair often involving complex ceremonies. As noted above, it is not simply a business between the partners who have fallen in love; it involves the lineages of the couple and even concerns the whole society in which it takes place.
People marry either within their own clan or lineage or outside them. However, most Africans today refrain from marrying their close kins. Nevertheless, in matrilineal societies people marry their close paternal kins while in the patrilineal a pretty close maternal kin like a cousin could become one’s wife.
In a cross-cousin marriage, a man marries his paternal or maternal cousin. To some tribes, this marriage is ideal. The partners may have grown up together and thus known each other well. In a culture where marriage often precedes love, this kind of marriage was exceptional. Besides, the parents of the partners are their relatives and this builds a bond of solidarity within the marriage. And when quarrels erupt, the in-laws, wielding double influence over the couple, easily settle the differences.
It is in the area of inheritance that cross-cousin marriages appear logical. A matrilineal man in a cross-cousin marriage who knows that his property will go to his sister’s children, consoles himself that his inheritors are potential marital partners of his children who will therefore enjoy the property with them.
Polygamy (one husband and two or more wives) is widespread in traditional African societies.
Among some tribes, it is taboo for a menstruating woman to cook for her husband; so while she is in her period, the man would need a “clean woman” to cook for him, hence the need for a second wife.
Often, sexual intercourse with one’s wife is forbidden about a month to childbirth and between three months and two and a half years thereafter; and to enjoy still all the services a woman may provide, the man takes a second wife.
Another reason for the existence of polygamy in traditional African societies is that one’s honour hinges on the number of children one has. And since most Africans in the village farmed, the more wives one has the more children one could hope to have; and the larger the number of one’s children, the more hands one could have for farm work.
 Among the Zulu of South Africa, a man may marry his dead brother’s wife. However the widow remains the wife of the dead person and any children issuing from the new marriage are the children of the defunct. This custom differs from widow-inheritance practised in Ghana. Here, a man marries his deceased brother’s wife and she becomes his real wife and any issues from the marriage belong wholly to him.
Women could also marry their dead sisters’ husbands, acting either as wives for their sisters or replacing them entirely.
In “women marriages,” a rich woman, a barren one, or a bereaved daughter may “marry” a woman and give her to her kinsman to have children with her. Any children from the marriage belong to the rich woman. If the woman “married” the wife in her dead father’s name, who, for example, may not have had a son to perpetuate his name, then the issues belong to the deceased and will carry his name.
 In “ghost marriages,” if a fiancé dies or if a man dies without having been engaged or married, a kinsman marries a woman in his name and produces children for him.
Also, a man, either out of barrenness or otherwise, may “marry” another man to beget children for him. Of course, this is not homosexuality because there is no sexual relationship between the two men. Rather, the man who is “married” has sexual intercourse with the woman his partner offers him.
“Infant marriages” are also common in certain African societies. A girl-child is betrothed to a man who may take charge of some or most of her expenses and marry her when she becomes nubile. In the north of Ghana, Togo and Benin, and in Burkina Faso, Niger and Mali, this is the way some tribes marry. But in other societies, an “infant marriage” may only be a promise to a man or a girl about whom a parent is impressed; this becomes a proper marriage only when the partners agree later on to unite in matrimony. Hence, in this case, the promise can easily be broken unilaterally.
Traditional Africa treasured moral values. Thus bachelors were expected to be totally ignorant of sexual matters until they were matured enough to get married. In order to check juvenile immorality, some tribes practise a test of virginity. On the next morning of a girl’s wedding night, the couple must produce a blood-stained bedspread, proof that the hymen had not been torn up before. Failure to produce a soiled bed sheet was often punished by the dissolution of the wedding contract by the bridegroom’s family; and in the olden days by flogging in public, by ostracism or by death organized by the relatives of the bride who feel disgraced. Therefore to keep his wife, it is said that some young men cut themselves to produce the blood for the stain!
It is in this connection that traditional African societies attach taboos to sex and marriage. Thus fornication, incest and cohabitation or sexual intercourse outside the house or in strange surroundings such as the bush were all forbidden.
Who may marry in traditional Africa?
Anyone who has undergone initiation rites or attained physiological puberty may marry. Since either of these two events often coincides with the girl’s maiden menstruation, the marriageable age was between 12 and 15 years for girls and sometimes a bit older for boys.
Initiation ceremonies or nobility rites ushered the initiand into adulthood. By this fact the way was open to sexual life, hence marriage.
Nobility and initiation ceremonies differ considerably from one African society to the other. While in some tribes they are simple and may last only a day, among others it involves elaborate rituals stretching from three months to two years.
During initiation, neophytes may be circumcised and tribal marks cut on their bodies. A girl who has been initiated should no longer behave like a child.
Initiation ceremonies are religious affairs, especially in East Africa. For months, the neophytes, between the ages of 8 and 16 years, are secluded in the bush and taught things they were ignorant about when they were children. For the Ashanti girl of Ghana, the ceremony takes only six days to complete; lasts 30 days for the Bemba girl of Zambia; and requires not less than six months for the Nuer of Southern Sudan. But for others the instructions stretch between one to three years.
All initiation ceremonies are characterized by a test of endurance. The neophyte may be made to fast or kill a wild beast all alone; and often candidates may be circumcised with crude instruments at noon. Female clitoridectomy is performed in certain tribes for girls. During the operation the patient should not exhibit the slightest sign of pain; otherwise he or she will be treated as a child and may never find a spouse.
 When Ama Jantuah, the Ashanti girl, had her first menstruation, she was washed and shown to the village. Then her family head, an elderly man, poured libation, thanking the ancestors for looking after Ama until she has attained puberty. Then he implored the gods for a smooth celebration. Meanwhile gifts poured into Ama’s house. The villagers brought plates, cups, cooking utensils, pieces of cloth, sandals, food items, and whatever else a future bride may need. Then Ama’s father shaved her head and gave her money, that is, “bought her hair,” to start her own life.
An old lady then manicured Ama, making a few deliberate cuts on her fingers to show her that she was entering a world full of pain. Then she wrapped Ama in white clothes and adorned her with trinkets. While that was going on, Ama’s relatives distributed food items such as yams, plantain, cassava, garden eggs, etc. to the guests as Ama’s gratitude for their participation in her initiation rites.
A strong woman now carried Ama on her back to the riverside. River water is believed to have purification properties. Naked, Ama was immersed three times in the river to signify her coming of age. Then she was given a sponge and a piece of soap to bath thoroughly. Three women then dried her body with dry sponges. Then the procession led Ama half-naked back to the village. This was done to show off Ama’s youthful body to prospective husbands and to prove to all that she has neither been promiscuous nor has been or was pregnant.
At Ama’s house, a feast was prepared. She was first given an egg to swallow whole so that her future labours may be easy. An egg is used because hens are believed to lay them easily and hence Ama’s future child may also come out as easily. Then Ama was allowed to eat for the first time in the day.
Now the drums pulsed. Ama executed a few intricate steps to the applause of the spectators and then she retired into her house.
Ama Jantuah spent the next five days indoors. She was treated like a queen and taught the secrets of womanhood, including menstruation, sex, pregnancy, intimate douching, and married life. On the fifth day, Ama’s friends danced in her house to bid her farewell to royal living. Then she stepped outside her home.
On the sixth day, Ama was dressed beautifully and led by her relatives from house to house to thank the villagers.
Now, Ama has been shown to all that she has become an adult. If she is not betrothed, men asked for her hand. Otherwise, her fiancé was asked to perform the marriage ceremony.
Ama was not betrothed; neither did she have a fiancé. At the moment of her initiation ceremony, Kofi Kyei was ready for marriage. He approached his parents to see Ama Jantuah’s parents on his behalf. At sunset, Kofi Kyei’s parents, his uncle and aunts trooped to the Jantuah house in the neighbouring village. “We have come to ask for your daughter’s hand,” Kofi Kyei’s father said after the preliminary conversation.
A silence fell.
“We’ve heard what you’ve said,” Ama’s father finally replied. “Give us some time to consider the matter.”
This was routine. Prospective parents-in-law wait for three days to three months before giving an answer. Meanwhile each family checked the other family’s background. That is why Ama’s mother called on Auntie Yaa, a friend of hers who knew Kofi Kyei’s family well. “Kofi Kyei’s people have asked for Ama’s hand for him,” she said tentatively.
“She’s entering a good family,” Auntie Yaa said without any hesitation.
Ama’s mother suppressed her joy at the good news. “You know them better,” she went on, “Is there no bad disease in the family?”
Auntie Yaa shook her head. She assured her friend that Kofi Kyei was worthy of her daughter: he was hardworking, respectful and gentle. Kofi Kyei’s people also learnt that Ama could cook, she was industrious and her character exemplary. And each family enquired about a few delicate matters about the other family’s history – such as cases of wife-beating, murder, stealing, mental sickness, divorce, lying, garrulousness, etc. which could make for a successful marriage or lead to catastrophe or divorce.
While the investigations were going on, Kofi Kyei presented gifts to Ama and her family. They accepted the presents heartily, an indication that he would get a favourable answer. However, the girl’s family refunded the gifts should the marriage arrangements fail.
After a week the Jantuahs sent a message that Kofi Kyei could marry their daughter. Kofi Kyei and his people then got ready to go and pay the bridewealth.
The payment of the bridewealth seals the marriage. And then a day is fixed for the woman to leave her parents’ home to stay in her husband’s.
   Among the Ewe’s of Togo, the bridewealth could consist of twelve pieces of cloth, some bottles of assorted alcoholic drinks and an amount of money. But some Northern Ghanaian tribes pay in cattle while the Ibos of Nigeria give out as much as one thousand United States dollars. Some Ghanaian Moslems marry with assorted cloths, head ties, shoes, brass basins, trunks, sets of bowls and plates, and cash. The Amba of Uganda not only swap women as bridewealth, the boy is also made to work for his in-laws for a specified time before getting his woman.
The marriage ceremony itself is simple, especially where the girl has already undergone her nubility rites. It is not performed for women under pregnancy. So an African girl who conceives outside lawful wedlock must wait until she delivers her child before being honoured with this ceremony.
Patrilineal societies pay higher bridewealth than the matrilineal ones. While the Nuer husband may hand over 40 cows for a wife, the Ashanti man may provide only two bottles of palm wine.
The bridewealth is important in traditional communities because in the olden days when there were no books, and even today, it serves as the “document” legalizing the marriage. As for dowry it is uncommon in Africa, since men often paid the bridewealth.
 An idea of exchange exists in marriage in Africa: A husband gets a wife but in return gives something; the family of the bride loses a member but gets some compensation.
However one does not buy a woman by paying a bridewealth for her. The bridewealth simply endorses the marriage. Without the payment of the bridewealth, a traditional African marriage and any children resulting from it are considered illegitimate. A man who has not paid the bridewealth cannot claim adultery fees should his wife be unfaithful; besides, he cannot regard his marriage as legal and his in-laws could easily claim their relative from him at any time. The bridewealth also binds the couple to be of good behaviour. A foolish husband will lose his bridewealth in the event of a divorce while a guilty wife pays it back.
 To have children is the ultimate aim of traditional African marriage. Since women are often blamed for childless marriages, fertility is often crucial for them. The ease with which a wife constantly conceives and bears children is a blessing to the marriage. Besides childbearing, a good African wife must be faithful, obedient, hardworking, helpful, sympathetic and jovial.
 Since the African in traditional settings loves to have lots of children, fertility is vital in marriage. Each African craves for children to carry on his name so that he will not be forgotten on his death. It is because of the emphasis put on children as an asset in marriage and the belief that childless couples harbour some bad disease or are being punished by the ancestors for some wrong-doing (e.g. fornication, abortion) that childless couples are held in contempt. To avoid the curse, childless women often carry dolls on their backs to express to the ancestors their wish to have children.
The African woman who has children must be prepared to care for them. She must see to it that they are well-fed, well-clothed, are bathed daily and have enough shelter over their heads. She must even be prepared to do the same for the children of others. This quality, motherliness, is important for women in marriage because the factors which make for it – hospitality, kindness, fondness of children and sympathy – distinguish them as excellent females.
If traditional African societies craved marriage, however they abhorred divorce. Nevertheless divorce did exist in traditional Africa, but its rate was low. The main reasons for the absence of widespread divorce in Africa are the sense of togetherness or of family, the peculiar marriage customs which involved not only the lovers but bound their families as well, the docility and the simplicity of the traditional African woman and the stoic nature of Africans.
What factors then cause divorce in traditional African societies?
The main causes of divorce among Africans are infertility of any partner, adultery, insanity, garrulousness, laziness, witchcraft, scandalous behaviour, callousness, pugnaciousness and incompatibility.
 Generally a couple is considered divorced when the bridewealth, as seal of the marriage, is returned. Among the patrilineal people, the guilty person pays the bridewealth: since the man paid the bridewealth, he forfeits it if he is found guilty and the woman refunds it if she is to blame. However among matrilineal societies whoever received the bridewealth returns it irrespective of the guilty partner. Since the bridewealth is insignificant among matrilineal people and can easily be repaid, their divorce rate is higher than for patrilineal tribes. Thus a high bridewealth binds marriage better than a low one since both partners are aware that the loss or the refund of the bridewealth is costly.
However the return or the forfeiture of the bridewealth does not constitute a full divorce. A simple ceremony is often necessary to declare the marriage properly dissolved. Among the Ashanti of Ghana, the man sprinkles white clay on the woman.
Despite the stability of traditional African marriage, present-day Africans shun it as cumbersome and backward. Instead they prefer the modernized system of marriage which is part African and part European or the western matrimony outright. This is causing the traditional system to die. But since the aim of marriage is “till death do us part,” one can claim that traditional African marriage is exemplary. It was not just a human institution but a rite for which the people must be prepared. For through it pregnancy results and leads to childbirth. Marriage was and still is of utmost importance to traditional African societies, for without it the renewal of the tribal members and coherence among them could not exist.