Anxious anticipation gripped us that Sunday morning. A 90-minute ride to a remote Ghanaian village for a supposed 60-minute meeting with the village elders/chiefs? Why did Wisdom get us beautiful and elaborate outfits, but not one for Brian? Hmm... something must be up.
The driver, Precious, drove like the African Mario Andretti — eyes clear and intent. He downshifted the Sprinter Van to pass, hit 135 km/hr in fifth gear on roads pockmarked with three-foot craters. Good thing we had seat belts on.
When we arrived in Krobos, it was warm — really warm — but exhilarating to be greeted by so many smiling faces.
We met Wisdom's mom and and grandmom, and Wisdom gave us a tour of the village. Amidst basic housing and few material possessions were some of the happiest people that we've ever seen. Our group was warmly welcomed, and the kids followed us on our tour — happily posing for pictures along the way.
Rather than cats and dogs, we saw goats and pigs. Drums were the musical instrument of choice. We were less fearful here than at a mall in America.
We thought this was going to be a short visit, and we were not expecting to have lunch. With great pride, containers of chicken and rice made by our hosts were served.
During lunch, we watched the village women making foo foo (pounding a plantain mixture). They politely withheld their laughter as our group took turns trying, unsuccessfully, to match their technique.
From lunch, it was time to head to the big event — there was an aura of excitement surrounding the village.
Traditional drums pounded — almost as loud as our hearts — and hundreds of hands clapped as we are walked to the village square.
Little did we realize that our son was about to be paid the absolute highest honor that this village can bestow a person. We felt it. We were soaking in every minute. Pure joy!
After a brief introduction and the other chiefs taking their seats, Brian was marched away.
Several minutes later, he returned in traditional garb looking very regal. Walking back in, the crowd was brought to its feet, accompanied by cheers and smiles as Brian made his way to becoming a new chief.
The village women presented him with a beaded bracelet that's reserved only for traditional chiefs, and he was given his traditional name — Nene Kwesi Mateu Tsu the First.
With great fanfare, each of the village chiefs did a ceremonial dance involving much foot stomping, hopping and knife slashing. No surprise, they expected the new chief to also dance around the square — and Brian did not disappoint.
They then brought the blade to the new chief's dad, and it was the moment of truth — dance or bring great shame to Nene Kwesi Mateu Tsu the First. So, we danced! The drums pounded and the crowd laughed with glee. This day we were Ghanaians!
The entire day was a surreal experience and one that we will never forget. I wonder if we should invite our new family for Christmas this year...
