Kumasi is the second largest city in Ghana with a population of about 1.5 million people. It is the capital of the Ashanti Region and for three centuries has served as royal capital of the Ashanti tribal state, which is the biggest tribe in Ghana. I did not think that I could explain the feel of the city better than my Bradt tour book so forgive my copying what it says. “Kumasi is one of the most hectic cities we’ve visited, far busier than Accra (the capital of Ghana), and the mood is emphatically modern: the surging throngs of humanity and constant traffic jams that emanate in every direction from the market and lorry station feel positively overwhelming if you arrive from the relatively provincial, traditionalist north of Ghana (where I live).” Overwhelmed is an understatement of how I felt as soon as I stepped off of my bus at the lorry station. This is a city that truly stimulates all of your senses. But despite its hectic atmosphere, the city grows on you and it has been one of my favorite places to visit.
Thursday, 15 August
We had an early start to our trip today leaving Nalerigu at
4am. Asubonteng, William (his 12 year
old brother), and I took a private car to Tamale, 2.5 hours away where we met
the bus to Kumasi. The bus does not
leave at a certain time, it waits until it is full before leaving (and by full
I mean with extra people sitting on stools down the center Aisle). We finally left Tamale around 9:30am and
arrived in Kumasi around 5:30pm . . . it was a long journey. At every road check point, people would sell
food to the travelers through the windows of the bus which was quite the sight
with, bread, hard boiled eggs, bananas, ground nuts, and water being passed
through the windows. Every so often the
bus would pull over to let the passengers out to run into the bush and go to
the bathroom.
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| Our trusty bus to Kumasi . . . It's name was "The Believers" . . . if you did not believe before you defiantly would believe after arriving safely in Kumasi. |
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| Eating fufu |
Today was a long day filled with new experiences for me,
including the first time I have used a squatty potty in Africa. I have been living here a long time, but have
always gotten away with finding a real bathroom until now. I have to say I am not talented in this
department and I left both times with urine all over my feet. I have a feeling I am not going to be
drinking much this weekend and am going to be grateful I have developed a surgeon’s
bladder.
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| Dinner with Seth (left) and Asubonteng (right) |
Friday, 16 August
Today I toured Kumasi.
I am sure I would quickly have gotten lost in the throngs of people,
cars, buses, and goods being sold everywhere, but I had Asubonteng as my trusty
tour guide. The history of the Ashanti
people is rich. Their pride in their
kingdom and history is palpable in the city.
We visited many historic sites today.
Some streets of Kumasi
First we stopped at Kumasi Fort, which was built by the
British in 1897 out of granite blocks transported on the back of slaves to
Kumasi from the coast. The fort now
hosts the Armed Forces Museum. Most
interesting was the artifacts and weapons collected from Gold Coast Regiment
(an army made of up soldiers from Ghana and the surrounding countries) and
learning about the role they played during the World Wars. Our history books tend to focus on the
European and Pacific fronts and we are taught very little about the war that
raged across northern Africa. The Gold
Coast Regiment that was primary made up of Ashanti warriors fought the Italians
in Ethiopia and the Japanese in Burma during WWII. What was also shocking was the way the
soldiers in this colonial army where treated . . . the British forbade African soldiers
in the regiment to wear shoes!
Wearing a Japanese helmet from WWII
Asubonteng at Kumasi Fort
In one of the cells in the fort
We then went to Manhyia Palace which was built by the
British in 1926 for the Ashanti leader Prempreh I when they allowed him to
return from exile in the Seychelles. I
found it interesting that the British colonists built the palace as a present
and a way to say sorry for his exile, but Prempreh I would not move in until he
paid the British in full for the palace and grounds. During the tour I learned all about the
Ashanti leaders and their history. 
We then went to Okomfo Anokye Hospital which was amazing and
puts our little district hospital to shame.
On the property of the hospital is housed the Okomfo Anokye Sword. According to ledged it has been stuck in the
same position in the ground for 300 years and it is said that when it is
removed it will be the fall of the Ashanti.
The sword marks the spot where the “Golden Stool” initially descended from
the sky to the first of the Ashanti leader, Okomfo Anokye. The Ashanti people had a great amount of
gold, thus the interest the colonists had in the area. The Golden Stool is only seen when it is used
at the enstoolment of a new leader or Asantehene as it is called, the last was
placed into power in 1999. This Golden
Stool actually caused the Ashanti people lots of trouble and great wars where
fought against the British when they refused to hand the Golden Stool over to
the colonists. 
After this picture was taken I was surrounded by school children on a field trip. Their teacher had a camera and each kid wanted a picture taken with me. I guess they are all showing their friends the picture they got with the white lady at the sword site!
The sign when you are leaving the hospital grounds.
I rode in a tro-tro for the first time which can best be
described as a metal shell with wheels and benches that can seat about 15
people but many more can jam in if everyone is feeling friendly. We walked through Kejetia Market which is the
largest open market in West Africa. It
is said that over 10,000 traders operate within the market.
Today was the funeral.
It was quite the event.
Asubonteng’s grandmother actually died many months ago, but funerals are
very expensive so they are often delayed many months so that the families can
raise money. There are companies that are
specifically hired to set up tents, seats, music, etc, for the funerals. The morning started with a viewing set up in
the family compound. Everyone was in
black and the guests would come and greet the family and then go and see the
body. There was much lamenting, moaning,
crying. The outward expression of sorrow
made me very uncomfortable. It is so
different from what we are used to . . . hiding your tears and staying “strong.” The body was then placed into the coffin and
taken to the local Catholic Church where a mass was celebrated. The church is very small so most people were
outside and it was crazy disorganization of chairs and people milling around
and talking.
After mass we went to the families burial ground, which was
within a forest of banana and plantain trees.
It was absolutely beautiful. They
have started to bury people the way we do in concrete, but here the family
still does all of the work. After a
short prayer and the coffin was lowered into the ground, the men got to work
mixing concrete to cover the grave.
There is no special marker made until one year, when a monument will be
erected on the spot.
The celebration of life was today and everyone went from
wearing black and red, to white today.
Each generation had clothes made from a certain cloth. The family had a shirt made for me from the
cloth worn by the grandchildren, which was very touching. We went to mass and then another party was
thrown with music and dancing. I felt a
little like I was the character in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” that continually
got duped by the cousins into doing things because he did not know any
better. All weekend, the cousins have
been coming up to me and telling me to do certain things or telling me new
words to say or that certain things meant different things. I think I disappointed them though because I
just told them that I would not do anything until Seth or Asubonteng told me it
was okay. As much as they pleaded with
me I would just smile and stay put, the last thing I want to do is make a
cultural faux pas when his family has been such good hosts.
View above Kejetia Market
St. Peter's Basilica
We spent the evening with Asubonteng’s family for the wake
of his grandmother. The family will stay
up all night tonight to protect the body of their loved one from bad spirits; I
luckily got permission to head back to my rest house around 10ish. Most of the evening, I sat surrounded by
Asubonteng’s younger siblings and cousins, who all had many questions for
me. Then they asked me to tell them a
story. I had no idea what to say and
suddenly all of the many stories I had learned as a child flew from my
head. Finally, I conjured up the story
of Little Red Riding Hood and when I was finished with that and they wanted to
hear another, so I told them of the Three Little Pigs. It was actually a lot of fun to tell stories,
one little kid screamed when I said a wolf leapt from the grandmother’s bed, I
was glad that none of them had heard the stories before though because I am
pretty sure I messed up some parts.
Saturday, 17 August
Today was the funeral.
It was quite the event.
Asubonteng’s grandmother actually died many months ago, but funerals are
very expensive so they are often delayed many months so that the families can
raise money. There are companies that are
specifically hired to set up tents, seats, music, etc, for the funerals. The morning started with a viewing set up in
the family compound. Everyone was in
black and the guests would come and greet the family and then go and see the
body. There was much lamenting, moaning,
crying. The outward expression of sorrow
made me very uncomfortable. It is so
different from what we are used to . . . hiding your tears and staying “strong.” The body was then placed into the coffin and
taken to the local Catholic Church where a mass was celebrated. The church is very small so most people were
outside and it was crazy disorganization of chairs and people milling around
and talking. 
Gathering around the grave site
Cemetery
Working to cover the grave. One of Asubonteng's uncles and son of the deceased is the man without the shirt on, he had been wearing the traditional black cloth, but took it off to help. Asubonteng's father is the man standing next to his uncle with the spade in his hand.
We had a short break from the festivities and had lunch and
rested up a bit for the afternoon events.
Suddenly, before I knew it, the compound was in a fury of activity as
all of the aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended relatives started to bath
and get ready for the afternoon. I felt
like I could not find a safe place to look as people were running around in
towels, robes, etc.
For the afternoon all of the family changed into red cloth
and the other guests continued to wear black.
There was music, dancing, and many greetings. Everyone that came would give a monetary
donation to the family. This helps the
family make up the cost of the funeral and in a way the whole community ends up
really paying. I was inviting to dance
and could not really say no. Asubonteng told me everyone is obligated to
dance, so I made a complete fool of myself and after he whispered to me that he
had never danced in his life at a funeral.
The traditional dancing was great to watch. I really enjoyed the day and seeing how life
and death is celebrated differently in Ghana.
Sunday, 18 August
The celebration of life was today and everyone went from
wearing black and red, to white today.
Each generation had clothes made from a certain cloth. The family had a shirt made for me from the
cloth worn by the grandchildren, which was very touching. We went to mass and then another party was
thrown with music and dancing. I felt a
little like I was the character in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” that continually
got duped by the cousins into doing things because he did not know any
better. All weekend, the cousins have
been coming up to me and telling me to do certain things or telling me new
words to say or that certain things meant different things. I think I disappointed them though because I
just told them that I would not do anything until Seth or Asubonteng told me it
was okay. As much as they pleaded with
me I would just smile and stay put, the last thing I want to do is make a
cultural faux pas when his family has been such good hosts. 
Helena, Asubonteng's mother; on Sunday, all of the children of the deceased wore dresses or traditional clothes made from this fabric
Asubonteng and his twin Seth took me to a nice restaurant
for lunch. I tried banku for the first
time and had the best tilapia I have eaten in my life. It had been a long few days and we have to
leave early in the morning so I thanked his family for their hospitality and
called it an early evening. I have been
staying at a rest house not far from his town.
It has been nice to stay there because at the end of each day I can go
and have some quite, finally use the bathroom, and take a real shower.
Asubonteng and I
In front of the restaurant with Seth
Banku is the doughy looking stuff to the right. This entire meal was eaten with my right hand, the Banku you pick up and then dip in the sauces at the bottom of the plate to eat. Like I said . . . it as the best tilapia I have ever had!
Monday, 19 August
We got up around 4 am this morning to get tickets for a bus
north and finally loaded and left Kumasi around 6:30. The bus we took today is a public bus and it
was an entirely different scene from the bus we took before. The bus looked like a city bus you would see
in the states . . . bare bones. They
have assigned seats and we were the second to last row with three seats in the
row and I was smashed in the middle seat.
The luggage on this bus was amazing.
People will go to Kumasi to buy products and then take them north to the
villages to sell and they pack them on the buses. Boxes and bags of good were stuffed under
every seat. I considered the bus pretty
full when we left Kumasi. I was absolutely
shocked when at the first check point people started buying produce through the
windows like crazy. Huge branches of
plantain were hulled through the windows, bags of potatoes, cassava, tomatoes,
etc. Everyone was standing up screaming
out the windows to the sellers, money was being tossed down, products handed
up. Asubonteng had climbed two seats
over to make a deal for some plantain and next thing I knew it he was yelling
at me to come over and grab it from him.
I had no idea where to put it. Then the bus started to go and all of us had
to somehow get settled back into our seats.
When the bus drove off, I was standing on our seat with a branch of
plantain in my hands and a bag a cassava and another plantain branch was on
Asubonteng’s seat, he was still standing two seats over. We spent the next several minutes arranging
everything into the center aisle so everyone could sit down again. When we stopped for a break midway, you had
to walk from seat to seat to get off of the bus because the middle aisle was
stacked higher than the seats with produce.
Yummy street food . . . fried plantain and ground nuts
We got off before the town the bus was officially going
to. We just yelled to the front of the
bus that we wanted to get off and it pulled over and let us out. I think everyone was wondering as I was
making my way up seat by seat trying not to step on anyone, why this white girl
was getting off of the bus in the middle of nowhere. Before we stopped I asked, how we were going
to get everything off the bus because he had bought a ton of stuff and he said
not to worry the people would hand it out the way it came in. Sure enough I got off of the bus first and
walked to the back window, where they handed out my suitcase followed by all of
the produce that Asubonteng had earlier bought through the windows . . . only
in Africa.
I am continually surprised by the new experiences I have and
the crazy things I see here in Ghana. It
was a long and sometimes trying weekend but I am so glad that I went and
honored that Asubonteng and his family were willing to host me for the weekend
and participate in their celebrations.
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