This is my first story for adults to be published here.
On the first Monday morning of Sepember when
the gods returned to the shrines after the celebration of the Yeke-Yeke
festival marking the long trek of the ancestors of the Ge, the Chief Priest,
Hunoga Sasu Dogbe, a white calico cloth wrapped around his thin waist and
surrounded by the smells of gin and corn dough, perched on the Hunoga’s stool
before the awesome protruding roots of the gnarled ancient nim tree which stood
in the middle of the shrine of Togbe Asu at Keta Asukope, a village southeast
of the tiny West African country of Togo, thanking the ancestors in a long
prayer for a successful commemoration. A smallish half-albino with a receding
forehead and thick red hair, Hunoga Sasu intoned a song and the assistance sang
the refrain.
Soon a fetish priestess—vodusi—got
possessed by the gods and fell into a trance. She yelped like a whipped puppy.
“A development is going to happen in the village,” she spoke in the language of
the initiate, the white of her eyes rolling upwards. “It’s a river at flood:
the top is deceptively calm, underneath is swift as a gazelle. Caution is
needed.”
Looking towards the stone deity of
Togbe Asu, the ancestor of the village, wrapped in a white calico soiled with
drink, oil, and food, Hunoga Sasu wondered what message the ancestors were
sending him again now that he had given up selling Togbe Asu’s stool when they
had spoken through a possessed vodusi after he hadn’t taken heed of
their signs of warning.
“We’ll have to investigate this matter further,”
he said in his soft, drawl-like voice to his fat assistant, Hunovi Wobube
Kuevigah, who nodded in agreement.
On the main laterite road running
along the eastern edge of the village, Afefa Selormey, a medium-sized woman
with a lot of curves, alighted from the Toyota
minibus which had brought her from Lomé, the capital city when the sun was
sliding down the horizon. She felt like someone who had found a long-lost
precious item. She was finally going to get better and maybe realize her dream
of getting married.
“Is this the Asukope?” she whispered
to herself with a mixture of surprise and awe as the bus whipped up more red
dust on rumbling northwards towards Zowla, the next village. The nauseous smell
of dust and badly-burnt, adulterated gasoline from the old engine filled her
nostrils and she clutched her slim nose. Coughing, Afefa cleared her throat and
bent down and kissed the ground. Instantly she felt the perpetual pain
disappear from her forehead.
Getting to her feet, Afefa raised the dark
eyelashes curving over round smiling bright eyes to see jumbled tombstones in a
cemetery to the right. Is my ancestor buried here? she wondered. Beyond the
cemetery stood a school building behind which farms and probably a sacred
forest stretched into the distance. On the left straggled a group of
rectangular mud huts, a few covered with straw but most roofed with rusting
aluminium sheets. Afefa walked towards a group of children and women struggling
around a pipestand. The place smelt wet and stale.
Afefa approached a lanky lady and asked her
way to the palace of the Chief of the village. The lady told her to walk a
little ahead and then turn left into the main path to the village. Afefa did
so, walked between huts and came to an open space which she suspected to be the
village square. On the left about a dozen women sold food products in an open
market, surrounded by half that number of customers. The smells of fresh fish
and spices, especially red chilly pepper and onions, made her swallow. The sellers
and the buyers fixed curious gazes on Afefa and wished her welcome. She
exchanged the long traditional greetings with them and to her question they
indicated a large compound that she had also assumed to be the Chief’s palace.
It was an unpainted storey building surrounded
by huge mud huts themselves hemmed in by a high stone wall. Three giant almond
trees interspersed with ancient coconut and palm trees waved lazily in front of
the palace. Afefa stepped into the open yard and walked towards a Portuguese-style
verandah where some palace attendants lolled. She asked for the Chief and they
gave her a seat to sit down and a tall man disappeared into an archway.
The tall man soon returned and waved
Afefa in. Afefa followed him into a cemented courtyard encompassed by rooms.
The man led her into a hall where the Chief, Ga Etsri Togbe-Asu VI, robed in a
white toga-like dress and wearing a white fluffy cap, sat in state with some of
his elders. He stared at her with his slightly large brown eyes. Afefa felt inspired
and awed.
“I’m from Keta,” Afefa began in the
accent of the ancestral land where Togbe Asu, the founder of the village, had
come from over three centuries ago and the people sat straight and gaped at
her. “Since childhood I’ve been suffering from a strange disease which
sometimes makes me act like I had lost my mind.”
The people exchanged glances.
“Not able to stand it any longer I
was sent to a shrine at home a month ago,” she continued. “There, the deity
revealed that one of our ancestors, a twin and a hunter, went eastwards in the
olden days with one of our gods.”
The Ga sat straight, rubbing his
gleaming forehead.
“They said it is this god which is
asking me to be its priestess before I can have peace.”
“Blood is thicker than water,” one
of the elders observed with pride. “Surely the ancestors never die.”
“Togbe Asu has three gods here,” the
Chief spoke through his linguist, gaping at Afefa with his moist, penetrating
eyes which constantly made her lower hers and pop her knuckles. “First, food will be prepared for you. After
eating you’d be sent to Togbe Asu’s main shrine for divination to know which of
the gods is calling you to its service.”
Soon the Chief’s youngest wife who
comes from a northern warrior family brought Afefa a steaming meal of akume—a
cooked corn dough—and ademe vegetable soup. After Afefa had eaten, the
Ga sent a messenger to Togbe Asu’s shrine to call Hunovi Wobube. At the palace
the Hunovi listened to Afefa’s story and asked: “Did the ancestors reveal
Asukope to you?”
“No,” Afefa said, shaking her head.
“At Keta we know that the departing ancestors first went to Anloga.”
“That’s right,” the linguist said
and the people nodded. That story was part of their oral history.
“So I first went to Anloga and they
directed me to the next place. At each new place they gave me the next place
the ancestors stopped at. It was in this way that I followed their line of
migration, notably Agbozume, Denu, Be, Baguida, until at Glidji royal house it
was revealed that this was the village founded by my ancestor. My headache
stopped immediately I stepped here.”
The gathering broke into a song of
praise of Togbe Asu and the gods, clapping their hands and beating their chests
to the rhythm. Some jumped up and danced, tapping their feet on the ground and
bending and unbending their midriff.
An elder poured libation, thanking
the gods for bringing Afefa to where she must find peace and asked them to
accord her perfect peace and an unforgetable stay among them.
“Take her to the shrine,” the Ga ordered Hunovi
Wobube as if Afefa were a VIP. “She should be sent back to the palace
immediately after the divination. She’d be sleeping here.”
“Of course, Ga, nobody sleeps in the shrine,”
Hunovi Wobube observed and left with Afefa.
They turned northwards and soon were strutting
along a beaten path on the outskirts of the village. They came to a mammoth
baobab tree around which the path curved to the left and down an incline
towards the Gbaga river flowing nearby. At its bank, three yards, one round, two
square, were built in a triangle. A giant tree stood in each one. The land
immediately around the shrine was bushy, giving the place a weird look. Leaving
their footwear outside, Hunovi Wobube led Afefa into one of the square
compounds where Togbe Asu’s deity rested. The people there fixed their gazes on
Afefa and wished her welcome. After the Hunovi had introduced her, the Hunoga
indicated a place beside him and Afefa fell onto her knees into the beach sand.
Hunoga Sasu, after listening to Afefa’s story, picked
up a gong and beating it on the ground, prayed: “Togbe Asu, your daughter from
the old home has come here to find out which of your gods she should serve. She
needs peace; kindly accord it to her.” Then he picked up three halves of white
cola, shook them in his right palm, showed them to the deity and asked, “Will
she find peace?” then threw them on the ground. The assistance cried with joy
when two of the colas fell on their backs. Hunoga Sasu grinned, showing small
teeth stained brown with cola and spices. “You said she will have peace,” he
said again, showing the cola to the stool, “In which shrine? Here?” He threw
the cola and two fell on their insides.
“No,” the assistance chorused.
“In Dzobu’s shrine?” He threw the colas again.
“No,” the assistance shouted again as the
former combination came again
“We’re left with Nyigblen,” the Hunoga said.
“Is it the right place for her?” He threw the colas.
The people shouted with joy as two colas fell
on their backs.
“Is it really there?” the Hunoga said again and
threw the colas. The god confirmed it. “A pot standing on three legs cannot
tumble over. Ancestor, do you reconfirm Nyigblen’s shrine?” He threw the colas.
And on the reconfirmation, he intoned a song of praise of the deity and the
assistance picked it up and broke into wild dance.
The Hunoga next poured libation with
gin, then soft drink, and finally water. Then he launched into a long prayer
which kept the assistance raising their eyebrows at each other. Afefa heard
somebody whisper behind her that never before had the Hunoga prayed so much at
a preliminary divination; was it because she was a stranger?
“Ga said she should return to the
palace as soon as the ceremony was over,” Hunovi Wobube whispered to his
superior when after the ceremony, he engaged Afefa in a conversation.
The Hunoga waved to his assistant to
keep quiet.
Soon the Chief’s linguist arrived at
the shrine. “The Ga wants to know if the preliminary divination is not over
yet.”
Without looking up, Hunoga Dogbe
muttered, “We aren’t finished yet; does he want to continue himself?”
“I’m only a bearer of a message,”
the linguist said. “I’ll pass on your reply.”
Minutes later, an elder came. “Ga
wants to know why the divination ceremony has lasted so long.”
Hunoga Sasu lost his temper. “The Ga
should do Ga’s work and the Hunoga Hunoga’s work. I don’t interfere in his
work, why is he butting into mine? Tell him I’ll release her as soon as I’m
finished.”
“I’ll convey your message to our
Ga,” the elder said and left.
Soon another elder, much older, came
with the Chief’s staff which he raised into the sky meaning obligation to take
Afefa away.
“If you insist on going away with
her when I’m not finished, then do the rest at the palace yourselves,” the
Hunoga grumbled.
“I came here with troubles,” Afefa
said with a sad face on raising herself to her feet and faced the deity,
popping her knuckles, “Togbe, don’t let anybody create more for me.” Then she
touched her forehead and chest. Although vexed, she decided not to show her
real feelings to either of her suitors in order to have peace to live in the
village.
“You wouldn’t find more,” the Hunoga
promised. “Only peace will be your companion.” Then he pulled Afefa to a corner
where the Hunovi knelt. “Have you had intimate relations with a man in the past
two days?” he asked her confidentially.
“No,” Afefa said, her eyebrows raised.
“If I asked it’s because one must
remain pure for three days before tomorrow’s ceremony.”
Afefa lowered her eyebrow in
self-pity. “I don’t know when I last met a man.”
The Hunoga swallowed, his Adam’s
apple bobbing up and down, as if tantalized by a delicious meal.
“I’m not aware of this injunction
for tomorrow’s ceremony,” the Hunovi observed as the elder led Afefa away with
the staff still raised high.
The Hunoga chortled. “It was to
discourage the lady from doing anything with the Ga.” He winked
conspiratorially. “One must be careful with a womanizer like him.”
The Hunovi’s thick eyebrows jacked
up. “Do you like her?”
“I think I’m falling in love with
her,” the Hunoga said in an embarrassed tone.
The Hunovi’s eyes widened. “When the
holders of powers in the village fall in love with the same woman then there’s
going to be fireworks.”
“Do you think the Ga is also in love
with her?”
“From the attention he is giving
her, that’s clear as day.” The Hunovi scratched his beard. “Was that the
prophesy the gods sent us this morning?”
The Hunoga cocked his head to the
right as if listening for a sound, his greenish eyes staring into the distance.
Then he levelled his head. “The Ga has five wives,” he said. “My only one is
sick and bed-ridden. I need to find another one who may give me an heir. Is the
Ga the only man in this village?” he muttered and stalked off in a huff, vowing
that he wouldn’t allow the Ga to wrench from him a desirable woman that the
ancestors had sent in response to his prayers. Leaving him Afefa was like
letting an easy prey escape from one. If only the ancestors would make Afefa
his he would be happier than a jackpot winner.
The next day the Ga sent for Hunovi Wobube and
gave him money to go with one of the palace attendants to buy the articles the
Hunoga had instructed Afefa to bring for her purification ceremony.
The Hunovi and the attendant rode
on a motorcycle-taxi to Glidji, the nearest town. They went past the Portuguese-style Catholic
Church and entered the market with its long, high stalls of concrete pillars
and zinc roofs with holes. Women laid out their wares on tables and in baskets
and bowls and shouted to attract the customers who jostled each other in the
narrow alleys. The pungent smells of fragrant spices, especially cardamon,
cloves, and allspice hung everywhere. The Ga’s emissaries first bought a sheep,
a hen, a cock, a pigeon—all white--and smaller items of cola, cardamon and
others and rode back to the village.
The Ga asked them to take the items
and “my wife”—which he said with a titter--to the shrine.
In the shrine, the Hunoga checked
all the items and said to Afefa, “Did you buy them with your own money?”
Afefa shook her head and her braids
swirled around her thin shoulders. “The Ga did.”
“Did you touch the money?”
She shook her head again.
The thick moustache seemed to
flutter over the Hunoga’s small mouth in an imperceptible smile. “Then the
ceremony will be worthless,” the Hunoga said and turned towards the Hunovi:
“You know that injunction for this ceremony, why did you go and do something
different?”
“I can’t oppose the Ga,” the Hunovi
said apologetically.
“I’m not asking you to challenge
him,” the Hunoga said. “You know what happens here and shouldn’t hesitate to
say so anywhere anytime and to anybody.”
“We’ve already bought the items,”
the Hunovi said with a shrug, “what are we going to do with them?”
“You know they’re as good as
worthless. We need fresh ones.”
Afefa threw her hands over her head.
Next she was popping her long fingers.
The Hunoga plunged his hand into a
pot. “Voduga,” he said with a lot of respect, “allow me to borrow money for the
good of your daughter’s ceremony.” He extracted some bills, gave them to Afefa
to rub her palms over and say a prayer over. The bills felt like a lover’s
caress as Afefa closed her fingers over them and eyes closed, whispered a
prayer over them and gave them back. The Hunoga also whispered over the money and
handed them to Hunovi to return to Glidji.
“This is going to be a twin
ceremony,” the Hunovi observed.
“What twin ceremony,” the Hunoga
retorted. “The Ga’s items don’t count; we’ll send them back to him.”
Hunovi Wobube’s eyelids lifted.
The group sang and beat their chests
to the rhythm while the Hunovi and a shrine attendant went to buy the articles.
Afefa lowered her head in thought, her chest full of pain for such a destiny.
The singing and the clapping increased in intensity about two hours later when
the two returned with the articles. It was then Afefa began to breathe with
some relief.
The Hunoga recited a long prayer in
front of the deity, imploring the ancestors for a smooth ceremony. Then he
asked Afefa to strip her cloth to her waist and tie a white calico over it.
Hunovi Wobube sprinkled dried anyanyran leaves on a pot of fire beside
Afefa and thick smoke engulfed her, almost smothering her. She prevented
herself from coughing.
The Hunoga took his seat on his
stool before Togbe Asu’s deity and slapped a six-tongue bell on the
floor, reciting incantations. At the end, he said, “The voduwo welcome
you.”
Afefa kissed the ground, touched it
with her fingers, and stroke her chest and forehead three times. “Have pity on
me, ancestors,” she said, “because I’ve come to see you about a matter dear to
my heart.”
“The voduwo need a sheep, a hen, a cock,
a pigeon,--all white--gin, sodabi,--” the local gin “--beer, soft drink,
and 5,000 francs—” about $10 “--to do the work for you.”
“We have them here,” the Hunovi
responded and brought in the articles and Afefa feverishly counted the bills
and gave them to the Hunoga who laid them in front of the deity.
With a coconut cup the Hunoga scooped
water from an earthernware pot buried before the deity. He balanced the
cup in his left palm and spoke to the god: “How are we to purify her, by ritual
bath water?”
The cup dangled and tumbled on its
circumference into the pot. The Hunoga scooped the water again and twice
the god confirmed that ritual bath would be appropriate.
The Hunoga slaughtered the animals
and collected their blood into earthenware pots. Then he passed drinks around
and the people shared it while singing. Afefa squeezed her face at the strong
taste of the sodabi, but the others threw back their heads, hurled the
drink down their throats and sighed with pleasure. However the gin tasted
smooth to Afefa and the soft drinks made her lick her tongue.
The Hunoga crawled into a corner of the shrine
to prepare the ritual bath water with water from the Gbaga river into which he
poured libation with the drinks. Then he plonked cowries into the water and
poured in perfume; after he macerated a mixture of herbs into the water. The
smells of chlorophyll, perfume, and alcohol filled the shrine.
When the ritual bath water was ready, the
Hunoga passed around cola and cardamon seeds. Afefa again squeezed her face at
the bitter cola and the pungent seeds.
Contrary to tradition the Hunoga himself,
instead of his assistant, led Afefa into the other square compound to take the
ritual bath. When she finished the Hunoga again led Afefa back to the Chief’s
palace.
The Ga summoned him and wanted to know why the
items he bought had been rejected.
“For the success of the ceremony,”
the Hunoga said.
The elders observed that the Hunoga
should have informed the Ga about it to take the necessary action instead of
doing so himself.
“The Ga isn’t a stranger to this
matter,” the Hunoga snapped back. “Even if he was, nothing prevents him from
asking.”
The Ga bounded to his feet. “I’m the leader of
this village; nobody speaks to me like that.”
“Ancestors, have you brought me here to create
havoc?” Afefa wailed, clutching her head.
The elders convinced her not to worry and
implored the Ga to sit down. They fined the Hunoga to pay back the sum the Ga
had used to buy the articles plus a bottle of gin and a sum of 10,000 francs.
“That’s unjust,” the Hunoga thundered, thinking
of the Ga as an inconsiderate leader of his people.
“Don’t you also fine offenders in the shrine?”
an elder said.
“I don’t. The ancestors do. I only interpret
their will.”
The elders lowered their heads and scratched
their heads.
“I’m not only a living ancestor,”
the Ga said, “but also the mediator between the living and the dead. If the
Hunoga cannot respect me, I don’t know how he can the ones that he cannot see.”
That seemed to knock out any more
argument the Hunoga had. Afefa lowered her head, shaking it from side to side.
She had come here to look for tranquility, but it looks as if she was going to
find more calamity. Yet she couldn’t leave Asukope. Really she didn’t feel for
neither the Ga nor the Hunoga yet she was wary of revealing her true feelings
to them. That may be like giving up a grueling race when one was only
centimetres from the finishing line. Besides, having lived in pain all her life
she loathed hurting people. Since she was to serve Nyigblen, maybe she should
stick to the Hunoga who can teach her the secrets of the trade.
Two days later, the village, and especially the
open yard in front of the Chief’s palace, milled with crowds right from dawn.
It was time to perform the purification ceremony in the royal stool room for
the departed chiefs. The Ga wanted to seize this opportunity to show off to
Afefa, the woman who was going to make his long-cherished dream of being
connected with the ancestral land a reality.
The day before the attendants at the
palace had been busy polishing and cleaning the regalia, drums, and ancestral
stools under the vigilant eye of the Ga who kept Afefa by his side instead of
his eldest wife. In the evening the mythical skull drum rumbled to announce the
great day and talking drums joined in to summon the people and rouse the royal
ancestors from their long slumber to participate in the celebration.
The day for the ceremony itself, the
Ga, accompanied by the usual select people made up of the custodians of the
stools, the elders, the Hunovi—who the Ga had to summon with his staff
when he refused to take his boss’ place—and a few favoured people including
Afefa, went to the stool-house situated at the southern edge of the palace.
Afefa flinched when the Hunovi threw the door open and they entered the dark,
stale, musty-smelling, gloomy room. A
large black blanket covered the stools placed on a dais at the far side of the
room.
The Ga lowered the cloth from his
shoulder right down to his waist, slipped the heavy sandals from his feet and
stood on them. He bowed in respect and his gendarme’s voice boomed, echoed by
the high roof: “Has the day broken, Spirits of great ancestors? We’re here
again to honour you. Allow us to have a peaceful ceremony.”
“Amii!” The assistance chorused.
The Hunovi slid forward and removed
the black blanket. Eighteen stools were placed on their sides by order of
succession. He fetched a small jar of water into the room and poured it into a
coconut shell cup. The Ga picked up the cup, and still crouched, poured the
water on the floor, saying, “Ancestors, here is water for you to wash your
hands.”
“Amii!” The assistance chorused.
The Ga straightened himself and the Hunovi
tended him a bowl of yeke-yeke—a mashed corn dough meal. The Ga scooped
a handful in his large palms and stepped forward towards the oldest stool—that
of Togbe Asu—and Afefa began to shiver. “Eldest ancestor,” the Ga said, “today
is purification day, come and eat this yeke-yeke.”
“Amii!” The assistance chorused.
“Watch over this village.”
“Amii!”
“Give the men strength to work
hard.”
“Amii!”
“Let the women bear a lot of children.”
“Amii!”
“Give health to the sick.”
“Amii!”
“Give peace to all those who call upon you.”
“Amii!”
“Give peace to Afefa here—” He turned towards
her. “—seeking your favour.”
“Amii!” the participants chorused and
the Ga’s and Afefa’s gazes met and he smiled at her, revealing the gap in the
middle of his top teeth. Afefa nodded in appreciation. She was beginning to
feel some affection for the Ga.
The Ga took more yeke-yeke which he
placed on the other stools and then all the participants walking backwards, he
scatterd the rest on the floor of the stool room—for the spirits of the
departed stool-carriers—and outside of it. Then they filed back into the room.
Now the Hunovi brought in a bleating sheep. The
Ga took a pointed knife and raising it towards the stools, proclaimed, “Here is
sheep for you,” and then stabbed the animal on the throat. Afefa flinched and
shut her eyes. She opened it seconds later to see the Hunovi collecting the
gushing blood in an earthenware pot until the sheep’s convulsion stopped. The
Hunovi hurled the animal through the door. It fell with a thud and its head
pointed towards the river.
“Amii!” The assistance chorused as
someone observed “The ancestors have accepted the sacrifice at once.”
Palace cooks raced up and hauled away the sheep
to be cut up. The Hunovi, who had followed them, soon returned with little
wooden skewers threaded with roasted choice pieces of mutton. A palace cook
tagged behind him with the blood in the earthenware cooked into clots.
The Ga skipped from stool to stool placing a
skewer of meat and clots of blood on each one saying, “Here is meat,
ancestors.”
Now the Ga returned to his place and the Hunovi
brought a bottle of gin, poured some into the coconut shell cup and handed it
to him for libation. Beginning with Togbe Asu’s stool, the Ga poured some drops
on it saying: “Supreme Being I call you; Earth I call you; Ge gods I call you;
gods of Asukope I call you; Togbe Asu, I call you; here is drink for you; we
don’t know our enemies, if anyone wishes us evil, let the mischief fall on his
own head.”
“Amii!” The assistance chorused.
“Protect us from unclean diseases”
“Amii!”
“Protect my Afefa here from unclean diseases.”
The assistance stared at each other with raised
eyebrows and Afefa heard her own voice above the few who answered “Amii!”
When the Ga finished going round the stools,
the Hunovi poured him a cupful of the gin which he drained in a gulp. The
remainder of the drink was served round and one could hear people sighing after
drinking it. Then all filed behind the chief in a procession to the palace amid
singing, drumming, and ovations from the frenzied crowd outside. Some people
stepped forward and their heels rang on the ground in an enthusiastic dance,
throwing up dust which rose right up to their shoulders.
Back in his hall the Chief thanked his retinue
for their participation and invited them to the second part of the ceremony in
the evening: the paying of homage to him by the priests and priestesses
followed by the holding of the big ancestral banquet.
At sundown a procession of priests and priestesses
clad in rich lace dresses and smeared with clay and adorned with heavy beads in
the neck, on the wrists and around the ankles danced from the three shrines on
the northwest, southwest, and east of the village through rows formed by the
followers of the gods of the shrines towards the Ga’s palace. They sang slow
songs in the language of the initiates, danced stamping their feet lightly on
the ground and throwing their arms slowly from side to side. The people clapped
their hands and beat their chests to the rhythm, singing the refrains to follow
each stanza chanted by the priests and priestesses. At the palace itself, the
Ga sat in state surrounded by his elders and invited guests, including Afefa.
One seat remained empty, that of the Hunoga who had declined to assist in the
evening ceremony since he had not been invited to the earlier one.
While the talking drums were reciting the
worthy deeds and the praises of the dead chiefs, each priest and priestess came
forward, genuflected before the Ga, kissed his staff held at his side by the
staff-carrier and swore to be faithful to him in life as well as in death. The
Ga then shook hands with them as a sign of acceptance.
Then came the moment the people adore and which
bad chiefs dread: the lampooning liberty accorded to each individual to
publicly criticize anybody, especially the mistakes, villainies, and fraudulent
deals of those in authority so that they can change for the good of the
village.
At this moment a teacher who had taken to
drinking heavily on his retirement stepped forward, tottering and a clamour
went up from the crowd. “Admired and respected Chief,” he began in a loud,
clear voice, “if you’d look to your right you’d notice an empty seat. And it’s
no ordinary seat.”
The crowd hummed.
“That’s the seat of the Chief Priest of our
village. People not seeing him in it might take him for sick or worst dead.”
The crowd snickered.
“But he is neither of these. Hunoga is livelier
than a snake.”
The crowd burst into laughter.
“The trouble is that you are struggling with
him for a woman who hasn’t come here to find a man but an ancestor.”
“The Ga is also an ancestor,”
someone shouted from the crowd.
The crowd burst into hilarious laughter.
Afefa felt embarrassed. But as the lampooning
moved on to other matters not concerning her, she forgot her troubles and sat
thoughtfully through some and clutched her sides in hilarious laughter through
others. The banquet further provided an occasion for all to forget the
discomfort of the evening. They ate and danced till exhaustion and fatigue
drove them home.
Crawling wearily into bed, Afefa told herself
that although the way the Ga had sidelined the Hunoga did not let her
appreciate him, his prominence and majesty and his attention to her throughout
the day’s ceremonies made her slip into sleep with fond memories of him.
On Friday the preparations for the installation
of Afefa as Chief Priestess of the Nyigblen shrine began. At the first
cock-crow, the villagers, especially young men, cleared the overgrown path to
the shrine southwest of the village singing ancestral songs. Meanwhile women
collected white clay from the Gbaga riverside to decorate the walls of the
shrine. The Hunovi removed the old, soiled, white calico cloth tied around the
giant acacia tree standing in the shrine and fastened a new one in its place.
Soon the place which has been neglected since the death of the last priest five
years ago and the refusal of the chosen young man to replace him because he was
Christian began to shine and look lively.
At the Ga’s palace, his elders,
having tried in vain to convince him to associate the Hunoga as usual in the
preparations for the installation of Afefa and to dissuade him from getting
actively involved in them himself, hardly took any part in the hustle and bustle.
The Ga’s wives also kept their distance. Afefa herself had tried in vain to
make the Ga change his opinion. Instead the Ga sent the Hunovi here and there
to buy a cow, sheep, chicken, pigeons for sacrifice, and herbs and perfumes and
other items. The Ga also sent emissaries to the guardians of other shrines in
Togo and in the nighbouring countries of Benin and Ghana. But the elders
opposed the Ga vigorously when he designated the Chief Priest of Ge lands, the
Maatse, to chair the ceremony. Unknown to them the Ga didn’t want to give his
rival the opportunity to shine before Afefa.
The following day Hunoga Sasu went
before the first cock-crow to see Afefa, and contrary to custom did not go in
to greet the Ga in his own palace. “You’re a stranger here and do not know
about some of our customs,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “This
ceremony would not have much significance without the participation of the
Hunoga.”
“Everybody knows that I don’t agree
with the way the Ga is handling matters,” Afefa said, almost on the verge of
tears. “But as you’ve observed, I’m a stranger here and don’t know much about
your customs.”
“All the Ewe people have almost the
same customs,” the Hunoga cut in. “At Keta, I can’t imagine anybody ignoring
the Chief priest of a locality to call another one to perform spiritual rites
there.”
“What should we do now?” Afefa
pleaded.
“If Ga realizes his mistake and
calls me I’ll come. But if he doesn’t ...” The Hunoga got to his feet and waved
to Afefa. The most difficult thing he had had to do was oppose the Ga, the
highest authority in the village. But he thought it was worth it in order to
better serve Togbe Asu as the unsatisfied need for a wife and a male child has
been making him absent-minded.
Popping her fingers, Afefa kept her
head down for a long time, wondering why all of this was happening to her. Then
she bounded to her feet and under the malicious gazes of the Ga’s wives, went
in to see him. “I prefer to go back to Keta and become insane than face other
problems here,” she bluttered out when the Ga had asked his entourage to go
away when she had asked to see him alone. Only the staff-carrier remained.
The Ga’s head shot up. “You wouldn’t
go back to Keta and you wouldn’t face any problems here,” the Ga said on coming
out of his stupour.
“But why don’t you want to associate
the Hunoga?” Afefa burst into tears.
“He is too proud and must know where
power lies,” the Ga said with pride. His duty as Ga was to ensure the
well-being of his citizens but he wouldn’t mind creating misery for Hunoga Sasu
if that could assure him the race for Afefa’s hand.
“Don’t forget he has spiritual
power.”
The Ga tut-tutted. “I’m
charm-proofed. Let him try it.” He sprang to his feet and crouched as if about
to charge an enemy.
“You’re charm-proofed, what about
me?”
The Ga smiled. “You’d also be
tomorrow. And more so when we get married.” His grin widened.
Afefa breathed hard. The desire to
marry her was causing all the hell. She hoped both the Ga and the Hunoga would
realize that she didn’t belong to them and leave her alone. If only she could
find a way to avoid both of them! Maybe she could have some independence when
she became a priestess.
Although in the night the Hunovi had performed
purification ceremonies in Nyiglen’s shrine to prepare it to receive the
delegations, Afefa slept like a haunted criminal.
Sunday broke bright and sunny over
Asukope. People sang ancestral songs as they went about. Most were dressed in
their best clothes, mainly made of white calico cloth or white lace cloth. Soon
delegations of Priests and Priestesses began to arrive in the village, singing
loudly. When they got down from their vehicles, they formed a procession led by
two flag-bearers displaying the name, insignia, and totem of the shrine; a
young lady followed, carrying an ancestral stool on a cushion and then the rest
of the people joined in, exhibiting majestic ritual dances and displaying their
deities in bowls, pouches, and eartenware pots. Some of the deities were mounds
of clay covered with offerings of dried animal blood, food, palm oil, herbs and
weird objects of wood, skin, iron, and baked clay; others were fashioned out of
stone, iron, anthropomorphic statues, and horns bulls. Most had eyes of cowries
and gaping mouths. Padlocks, nails, feathers, talismans, bells, and mirrors
decorated them. The air felt charged as if with electricity. The smells of
expensive perfumes, including strong-smelling magical ones, invaded the
village.
In the shrine Afefa sat on the left
hand side of the Hunovi and the Ga on his right. All of them faced the acacia
tree. The important priests and priestesses sat directly behind them, reciting
incantations to ward off any evil. Such an event was often an occasion for them
to be charmed or to measure the magical powers of their dieties against each
other. Most of the people stood outside the shrine.
The Maatse came richly dressed in
lace and followed by a attendants and all stood up, except the Ga. The Ga motioned him
forward.
“Where’s the Hunoga?” the Maatse
asked and Afefa sighed and clutched her head.
“It’s said that one cannot force a
horse to drink water,” the Ga said.
“Nothing can be done without him,”
the Maatse observed.
“But you as the highest spiritual
authority in Gengbo can perform the ceremony,” the Ga said with a grin.
The Maatse shook his head. “The gods
do not pardon certain lapses. I don’t want any problems with them. Either you
call Hunoga to chair the ceremonies or I go away.”
The Ga consulted the Hunovi and they
nodded and the Hunovi sprang to his feet and disappeared outside. Soon the
voice of the Hunoga was heard singing:
Who the gods have blessed no one can
curse;
One can do only the task that one is
assigned.
Do we put the cap on the knee or on
the head?
The people clapped to the rhythm; the
Ga kept his head low, scratching it; but a smile flitted across Afefa’s face.
She was finally going to get the right thing.
The Hunoga, robed in white lace
cloth and beads took his place between the Ga and Afefa whom he smiled at. The
Hunovi crouched behind Afefa. The Hunoga invited the other priests and
priestesses to come nearer. There was nothing he loved more than such moments.
Also with this victory over the Ga the Hunoga hoped the Ga would catch his
mistake in struggling over Afefa with him and back out.
“Afefa, why have you summoned all these
important people here?” he asked.
“I’m in search of peace,” the Hunovi whispered
to her and she repeated the words.
“Do you think you can find it here?” the Hunoga
asked.
“The ancestors say so and I believe it too.”
“And what would you do for the ancestors should
they grant you peace?”
“I will serve them till my dying day.”
“Ancestors, you’ve heard your daughter,” the
Hunoga began a long prayer in front of the deity, imploring the ancestors for a
successful ceremony. The Ga sighed audibly at times and fidgeted on his seat.
The Hunoga now slapped a six-tongue bell on the earthen floor, reciting
incantations. The Ga cleared his throat at times. At the end, the Hunoga said,
“The voduwo welcome you.”
Afefa kissed the ground, touched it
with her fingers, and stroke her chest and forehead three times. “Stand behind
me, ancestors,” she said, “so that I can do the work you called me to.”
“The voduwo need a cow, sheep, hens,
cocks, pigeons, gin, rum, schnapps, sodabi,--the local gin--beer, soft
drinks, ... and an amount of 100,000 francs—“ about $200 “--to accept you as
its priestess.”
“I have the drinks and the money
here,” Afefa said, handing the Hunoga the items. “The others are outside.”
“What are they?” the Hunoga asked.
“Four-legged and two-legged
animals—small and big—together with what is needed to cook them.”
With a coconut cup the Hunoga scooped
water from an earthernware pot buried before the deity. He balanced the
cup in his left palm and spoke to the god: “Shall we have a peaceful
ceremony?”
The cup dangled and tumbled on its
circumference into the pot. The Hunoga scooped the water again and twice
the god confirmed that the ceremony would be peaceful.
The Hunoga went outside and
slaughtered the cow. Then he came in and showed the blood he had collected in
an earthenware pot to the deity. “Here is cow blood.” He did so for the next
bigger animal until five pots of blood stood before Togbe Nyigblen. Then he
passed drinks around and the people shared it, singing feverishly. The Ga had
merely touched the cup and now stared into the distance.
Then came the great moment. An old woman
carried in Nyigblen’s stool. Afefa felt a flutter in her heart. Helped by the
Maatse, the Hunoga lifted and lowered Afefa three times onto the stool. Now
that she has been put into contact with the spirit of Nyigblen which is
supposed to be in the stool she was qualified to perform ceremonies in the
shrine. Afefa smiled.
It was now time for each priest and priestess
to bless Afefa and give her some of their powers. Maatse was first and next
came the Hunoga. He held Afefa’s hand for a long time, staring her direct in
the eyes while he recited the incantations.
“Give way to other people,” the Ga shouted to
people’s astonishment.
The Hunoga stared at the Ga and kissed Afefa’s
hands. Afefa returned the kiss.
The place gasped, when after the guardians of
the shrines, the Ga also stood up to bless Afefa. People began to murmur when
he lasted more than the Hunoga. To finish, he kisssed Afefa’s cheeks. People
had never seen this. The shrine burst into laughter.
During the drumming and dancing which followed
the ceremony at the village square, the Ga and the Hunoga competed to dance
with Afefa. If the Hunoga’s attitude amused the people, that of the Ga shocked
them. During such occasions a Chief never displayed his dancing skills more
than once and only for a short time. If he tried to do more, the elders
jokingly stopped him. But this time the Ga did not heed them. It was then the
Hunoga also stuck to Afefa. The rivals now danced on both sides of Afefa. The
crowd booed but Afefa was too thrilled with her new position as Nyigblen’s
fetish priestess to really mind the attentions the two men were showering on
her.
The following day people filled the Nyigblen
shrine to consult Afefa. It was generally believed that a freshly-installed
priest or priestess brimmed with powers brought from the various shrines. The
Hunoga and his assistant came there since dawn to assist Afefa. Everything was
moving smoothly when the Ga came in as the sun began to rise over the horizon.
He displaced the Hunoga to the Hunovi’s place at Afefa’s left hand side. Some
people slipped out of the shrine. Anytime Afefa’s attention was on the Hunoga,
the Ga will say “Afefa ma chérie, serve me drinks.” People stared with
wide eyes. Apart from ancestral ceremonies connected with the state, one didn’t
see a Ga drinking in public. And even when he did it was with moderation. One
elder after the other came and whispered into the ears of the Ga. Each time he
shook his head and waved them away.
Soon a commotion was heard outside.
One could hear the Ga’s wives ululating and booing. Then they burst into the
shrine. The remaining clients feverishly packed their articles for divination and
pranced out.
“You whore and traitor,” the Ga’s
eldest wife yelled at Afefa, “did you come here to seek peace or to create
havoc?”
The Ga bounded to his feet. “What am
I seeing in my village and from my own household?” he bellowed.
“You’re seeing what you want to
see!” the youngest wife shouted back whilst the others hurled insults at Afefa.
“Out all of you!” the Ga ordered.
“Or I send you back to your families.” Although he loved polygamy, since
Afefa’s arrival the Ga thought he abandon his wives for her and still be happy.
“The one to send away is that
family-breaker!” the youngest wife yelled, rushing towards Afefa.
Afefa threw her hands over her head
at the same time that the Ga dashed towards his wife and the Hunoga wedged his
way between them and reminded each of their position in the village and where
they were at. That seemed to calm tempers. The Ga stormed away followed by his
bellowing enraged wives. The Hunoga turned to see Afefa shaking her head which
she had lowered into her palms. He knelt beside her and patted her shoulders.
Afefa raised her eyes to Nyiglen and cried: “Ancestor, tell me if you don’t
wish me peace. Then it’d be better if I died.”
“Don’t say such things,” the Hunoga
advised. “The ways of the gods are unfathomable.”
Afefa looked about the empty shrine. The place
has been desecrated and would need a purification ceremony. If she wanted it to
be a respected shrine, then it was up to her to take the necessary decision no
matter how unpalatable it would be to the Ga and the Hunoga. She was now a
fetish priestess invested with some power and it was up to her to use it. Right
there Afefa felt emboldened to take a decision.
As for Ga she has to make it clear to him that
she cannot be the joint partner of women who did not hesitate to destroy her
reputation as a priestess a day right after her installation. She’d move out of
the palace that evening. She might as well marry her ailment than wed the Ga.
As for the Hunoga, she can only cooperate with him on spiritual matters and no
more. Patience was the key. One day her Mr. Right would show up and she
wouldn’t hesitate to twine herself around him like a vine. She came to Asukope
to find peace, not to be embroiled in an imbroglio. For she knows: two troubles
do not solve a problem.
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