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July 25, 2005
Kumasi Daytripping
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A mother and baby in Kumasi's Central Market |
By the time everyone had finished breakfast and gotten organized for the day, it was approaching 10am. Liz, Hang, Ohime, David and I were planning to go to Kumasi for a few hours, primarily to check out the palace of the Asantehene, the Ashanti king, and the Kumasi Central Market. We had about an hour drive to Kumasi, give or take, so we'd probably arrive sometime before noon.
We crammed into David's pickup truck - David driving, Ohime riding shotgun, Liz, Hang and I in the back - and hit the road for Kumasi. David asked if we had any interest in shopping; I said I might want to buy some kente cloth, perhaps check out some wood carvings, while Liz and Hang had their shopping lists as well. David suggested we stop at the craft village of Bonwire, one of the major kente cloth centers in Ashanti. It was a short side trip off the main road to Kumasi, very close to the Besease Ashanti shrine, a UNESCO World Heritage site.
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Weaving Kente cloth in Bonwire, Ghana |
Entering the room, I was immediately struck by the sound of the looms. Three or four guys were working their looms furiously, opening and closing the loom in rapid succession each time they entwined another layer of thread into the weave. The motion of the loom and the tugging on each roll of yarn created a loud squeeking noise - like a group of children jumping up and down on springy dorm beds at camp. There were a handful of radios in the room, all tuned to the same station, allowing everyone to hear the same song and work the loom to the beat. One weaver chose to carrying an old walkman instead, whistling and singing to himself as he wove faster than anyone else in the room.
I started taking pictures and shooting video clips of the weavers. The lighting wasn't great, so many pictures were taken at around 1/20th of a second. Looking at the results in my viewfinder, it was quite extraordinary to see their hands completely a blur, moving the looms so rapidly. It almost looked like they were doing it in fast-forward.
There were a number of other men in the room, each one eager to get a commission by selling kente to us. The cloth was all quite beautiful - you could really see the craftsmanship that went into each piece. The most impressive cloth was made of double- or triple weaves layered on top of each other, creating a thicker - and more expensive - cloth. Larger cloths seemed to be priced 150,000 cedis and up - just under $20. I wasn't sure what I'd do with a full-sized cloth, so I looked at some of the strips instead, usually worn hanging around your neck. Single weaves started at 20,000 cedis ($2.50), doubles at 40,000 ($5) and triples at 50,000 ($6.25).
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Kente weaving looms |
Hang and Liz, meanwhile, had no such headache, apparently, and began bargaining hard for cloth, necklaces and bracelets. The sellers thought they smelled blood in the air and wanted to sell them a lot more, telling sob stories about how their purchase would help them achieve their dream of going to college. But Hang and Liz stood firm, buying only what they wanted and ignoring pleas for more purchases.
Back in the truck, we got back on the main road to Kumasi. David asked us where we wanted to go - like we were the experts - so I suggested we try the palace first. This, in retrospect, turned out to be a bad idea. The palace was on the far side of the city, and we spent almost two hours navigating horrific traffic. By the time we approached the palace it was well past 1:30pm, so Ohime suggested we get lunch. I would have preferred to have visited the place before eating, but my stomach and headache caused me to back down.
A moment or two later we arrived at a truck stop - perhaps the most Americanized place in all of Ghana. Inside we found what felt like a rest stop on the Jersey Turnpike - a modern facility with a 7-Eleven-like convenience store and rows of western fast food restaurants. Actually, that last statement is a little misleading. None of the restaurants were American brands - they were local twists on American brands. This meant we could choose between the Ghanaian versions of Sbarro's, Chick-fil-A, Boston Market and Burger King. I went for Nando's (the Boston Market poseur) and ordered a spicy chicken and rice dish, simply because it was the only thing on the menu that looked like someone in Ghana would normally eat it. In retrospect I wish I'd actually ordered the chicken fingers or something, because the rice was really greasy - and it caused me to remember that I'd basically been eating variations of that same dish all week. Why that never occurred to me is quite beyond me.
My mouth slick with oil, I desperately needed a dessert to get the flavor out of my mouth. Over at the convenient store, I found a freezer full of ice cream and frozen candy bars. I grabbed a bar of Mars Bar ice cream - like the original Mars Bar but with chocolate ice cream in the middle - and a Coke. Talk about hitting the spot. The ice cream got the Exxon Valdez out of my mouth, while the Coke gave me an infusion of caffeine that helped my headache subside.
After lunch, we got back in the truck and drove the last kilometer to the Ashanti king's palace. David and Ohime dropped us off, saying we'd need less than an hour to complete the tour. Hang and Liz got student discounts, while I sadly did not.
Inside, we were greeted by a small troupe of peacocks and peahens wandering the courtyard. They squawked constantly - that whiny yell that once you've heard, you'll always recognize it. In front of us was the old palace, constructed by the British in the early 1900s. The current Asantehene lives next door in a more modern facility, while the old palace is maintained as a museum. Signs along the front of the palace warned us "Photography is forbidden." Par for the course here in Ghana, which is more photo-phobic than almost any country I've ever visited.
At the inner gate, a woman took our tickets and directed us to a tour guide. He, in turn, sat us in a room to watch a VHS tape covering the history of the palace. I didn't retain much of what I learned because the tape flickered terribly, and those peacocks kept squawking. The guide then said he'd take us around the house.
"This is included in the ticket price, right?" I asked, having been warned about "extras" like would-be guides attaching themselves to you when touring Ghanaian sites.
"Yes, it's included," he replied.
"Never hurts to ask," I said.
The guide began by showing the king's talking drums, which were over 100 years old. The drums were used in ceremonies, as well as to alert the community during times of emergency. Inside the house, we saw the royal office, used through much of the 1900s. A giant green fountain pen sat on the desk - the Asantehene always signed documents in green, apparently.
There were several rooms full of gifts given to the kings from around the world, including lots of china sets and paintings. The palace was surprisingly modest, more reminiscent to a British official's residents rather than a king's home. In some rooms, we found live-size replicas of previous kings on their thrones. The replicas startled us more than once as we entered the room.
Much of the house was dedicated to the kings' turbulent history with the British. At one time they were on good terms, but by the late 1800s things deteriorated fast. It got so bad that the British foolishly demanded that the king give up his golden stool - the very symbol of his royal position. The king refused, and fighting began to bring out. Eventually the British seized the stool - or what they thought was the stool, since the Ashantis wisely made a replica and let the British take possession of it instead - then exiled the royal family to the Seychelles for nearly 30 years. Eventually, their differences were resolved, the bogus stool returned, and the royal family allowed to go home.
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Entering Kumasi's Central Market |
"I wouldn't do that," Ohime said. "They'll kill you if they catch you." I laughed it off and covered my camera lens, hoping that he wasn't being literal.
Eventually, Hang and Liz purchased a few samples of cloth to make some skirts; we then walked back through the market to the truck. It was amazing how many people could occupy such a small space; the human traffic was worse than Kumasi's auto traffic. I was also amazed by how many stalls of machetes were on sale. Though Ghana is a perfectly safe and stable place, I couldn't help but shutter and think of Hotel Rwanda with each blade that twinkled in the sun.
Back in the truck, I mentioned that I'd still like to look for some woodcarvings. I was hoping
We would simply drive to another side of the market, but instead we went to a neighborhood further afield. There were several shops selling carvings and statues, but the quality seemed cheap and touristy. I'd seen better pieces for sale back at the telecentre, so I figured I'd buy from them instead.
By now, it was approaching 5pm. We'd run out of time to visit the Ashanti Cultural Centre, which was a real shame. But at least we'd gotten a taste of Kumasi. Driving back, we saw many men walking around in silky black togas, apparently returning from funerals. I couldn't help but comment on how majestic their outfits looked. I felt like I'd just scratched the surface of Ashanti culture; hopefully I'd get the chance to return and learn more. -andy
Posted by acarvin at July 25, 2005 12:26 PM
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