HOWEVER, we were a little late, arriving around 8:20AM and it was overcast. We went to the chief’s house whom we had met and chairs and benches were brought out to welcome us. After 10 minutes of organizing and greeting and so forth, we were told that the people had not arrived yet from the other villages, “But you wait small, they will not come until 8:00.” As he was saying this, the speaker (one of the chief’s elders) looked at his watch and saw that it was 8:30. “Oh,” he says, “the weather has made them think it is not time yet.” I thought that was funny, but it was, in fact, the best excuse for Ghana Maybe Time I've heard so far.
So, we waited small. The chief offered us a beverage – and he wanted to give us a real beverage, not just water. So, I had a Fanta (yep, orange soda) and Rose had a Coke. Then he had one of his kids bring out another bottle – a Coke bottle, but not containing Coke. He pointed to it and explained that it was Ghanaian gin. I’ve written about this before (http://skitocoast.blogspot.com/2008/12/village-people.html) – it is distilled Palm wine and very strong. I know it as Akpeshie, it’s Twi name, but this is a Krobo chief, so he gave me the name in Krobo, which I have forgotton, but it started with an “o”, if that helps.
Anyway, the kid who brought out the Akpeshie disappears for a second and returns shaking water out of a glass (just washed? or rinsed?) - something between a shot glass and a juice glass. He pours some liquor in the glass (it’s still 8-something AM) and hands it to the chief. He holds the glass up ceremonially and begins chanting what I think is some sort of blessing or prayer – in one of the many ways old traditions have melded with new religions - with his advisor beside him seconding everything he says in the way you might imagine a gung-ho deacon amen-ing the preacher. Every few phrases, the chief dribbles a bit of liquor on the ground at his feet as an offering to God. Finally he finishes and pours the rest on the ground in a flourish and he and his advisor throw their hands up in the air in a final sort of hurrah.
Then the young man, who has approached as the blessing was coming to a close, pours him a real glass, full, and he downs it in one go.The youth fills the glass again and hands it to the person on the chief’s right. I was about the fifth person to get the glass and I had watched carefully, so thanked them for their hospitality, poured about half on the ground and to their great surprise, drank the rest. It was remarkably good for such a strong drink. Palm wine is very sweet to begin with, so is a good candidate for distilling I guess, and the result was far smoother than I would have expected for the product of a hole in the ground (palm wine) and a couple metal barrels (distillation).
Then, the chief, having finished the circle by drinking a second glass and feeling his morning libations, told a young girl something I didn’t understand. She went away and came back with a shell – like a medium sized seashell – which she dipped in a bucket of water and began shaking, just like the other guy had shaken the glass (so I’m thinking the glass was “washed” in a similar way). She handed it to the chief, who put the big end with the hole to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and blew. Or should I say sputtered. He kept trying and just about the time I got the camera rolling, finally got one long blast and some nice short toots, then more sputtering. Satisfied, he said that would call people in. It didn’t.
The shell then became a source of entertainment as one man after another tried to blow it to little effect. One guy would puff up and blow, get no result, then turn the shell around and look at the other end as if to see what was wrong with the shell. Finally, they had all given it a try and everyone was laughing (150 proof at 8:30AM will do that), so I looked at the chief and looked at the shell and back at the chief and sort of shrugged and smirked playfully. He was a very animated guy anyway, but he immediately starting talking fast and pointing and suddenly the shell was in my hand.
Although I played the saxophone in school, which requires a different embouchure (use of the mouth muscles) I did manage to scratch out reveille, come ’n’ get it, and taps on the bugle every day for one summer at camp, so I looked at the shell and looked at the chief a couple of times. He egged me on like I knew he would, so I put it to my lips (still unsure what exactly would come out), tightened my diaphragm and my cheeks and blew. I got a nice long deep sound and then did a few single accented toots for good measure. The cheering and laughing and pointing was a lot of fun – made even more entertaining for them since it was coming from a woman. I had to repeat my performance every time someone new came along.Before I get too big headed, however, my shell blowing didn’t bring the people to the meeting any faster than the chief’s so we didn’t get started until after 9:00 and even then only two of the chiefs had arrived. They did finally all arrive and we made our sales pitch to the workers who had come to help with the school, asked the chiefs for help in selecting agents in each of their villages, set appointments for gong-gong meetings in each village, and presented the traditional bottle of Schnapps (no flavor, just plain Schnapps "imported from Holland") to each chief. Then we asked permission to leave since we were late for our route visits to our existing agents.
However, leaving a chief who enjoys his liquor as well as being the center of attention is not that easy. The chief had sent a “small boy” back to his house to get a glass (likely the same one) and before we left, he wanted his elder/advisor (the one from the beginning) to break open the Schnapps and perform another traditional blessing ritual. So he did, after first ceremoniously stepping out of his "slippers" and standing foot to earth. And in a friendly symetry, the chief, to my left, backed him up the whole way, taking on the energetic deacon role.
When the ritual finished, they poured Schnapps for each of the chiefs, who either emptied most of it on the ground (the polite way of not drinking but also not offending) or dashed it back. And finally, I was offered a glass, of which I poured 90% and drank a sip just to see what it tasted like. I bought the good stuff, not knowing it came in five different grades ranging from about $2.50 to the top $7.00 a bottle, so it was actually pretty smooth. Then, somehow the shell appeared and I was an organ grinder’s monkey for a few minutes, again to hoots, hollers, and amazement. All in all, a great introduction to six new villages.
XO
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