Saturday, June 4. My hair tied back in a measly pony tail, I meet Anna and Natalie at their place and together we set off to get a Trotro to Kumasi. At the first station we go to, we have no luck. One big Metro Mass bus is just full, the next will take ages to fill up. A driver wants to make us take his Tro, but for some reason decides after a while, he won’t go to Kumasi after all. At the second station, there is a van to Kumasi. It is empty, but one by one, more passengers arrive. While we are waiting, a woman approaches the car and starts preaching. The other passengers don’t look at her, but seem to listen as now and then, they fold their hands, close their eyes or bend their heads all together. Some passengers give the woman money. We wonder whether it is to thank her for praying or to make her stop. The road to Kumasi is bad, full of potholes. In the backseat, I sometimes jump so high that I almost hit my head at the ceiling. Natalie has back problems and is in pains. I find the bumpy ride quite funny. In Kumasi, we take a taxi straight to the next station. We are not keen on spending much time in this overcrowded city. The station is overcrowded as well. Trying to drop us directly at the Tro to Bonwire, our driver has to take a number of angry words and looks. The ground is a mixture of black mud and rubbish. The cars have difficulties in driving off. Our Trotro is full, there is already a queue, but we make good progress and don’t have to wait long. All the passengers are dressed in black and red. There must be a big funeral somewhere.
Our destination is Bonwire, 18 km from Kumasi and famous for weaving kente cloth, the colorful royal and sacred cloth made by Akan people. As we alight from the Trotro, we directly fall into the hands of a few guys who introduce themselves as members of the royal family. We are looking for a guesthouse and the Tro driver couldn’t help us. The men offer us a homestay. They have a big house and often host volunteers. Especially Natalie is skeptical, but Anna and I convince her to at least take a look at the place. It is a big house indeed, bright and friendly and the room they offer us looks comfortable. We are introduced to the queen mother, an old, tiny lady who is not surprised to see us, and decide to stay. As this is settled, Charles, one of the guys, shows us around the small town. Spread along wide roads, it is rather quiet. This weekend it is unusually busy with people dressed in black and red. It really is a funeral they are attending and it is a big occasion. Charles explains that every first Saturday of the month, a funeral is held for everyone who passed away during the last month. Therefore, many different families gather to celebrate together. We are led to the funeral grounds, where music is played. People are dressed beautifully and we feel a little bit out of place in our travel clothes, so we soon leave the place again. Even as we pass more of the funeral’s guests in the streets, I can’t help marveling at their clothes. The cloth the men drape around their body, Charles says, is ten yards. Ten yards in this heat, I am fascinated. They look really good, though. Bonwire’s roads are lined with shops displaying the colorful cloth. Although formerly the cloth was only meant to be sold to kings and worn on times of importance, it is available to everybody now. The owners try to convince passing foreigners to buy from them and every one of them promises a good price. Charles owns a shop, his brother has one, probably everyone has one. I wonder how they survive. Charles takes as to the Bonwire weaving centre, a long, wooden building full with looms. The workers there show us how to weave and we can try for ourselves, although normally women are not allowed to work on the loom. According to the legend, if the loom touches a woman’s stomach, she will never be able to bear children. Along the walls of the building, apart from the scarf-like cloth, also shoes, ties and bags with the kente design are lain out. All the three of us are asked to buy something and we can’t really refuse as they showed us how to weave, although we are not really eager to buy something that is useless to us and overpriced. Each pattern has its name, such as “Good mother” or “Never give up”, even though there often is little correlation between the appearance and the name. They are derived from proverbs, historical events, plants or important chiefs and queen mothers. Each of us with a little new souvenir in our bags, we leave the weaving centre behind to stroll further through the village. We see more men weaving in backyards and the shadows of their homes. Our royal guide introduces us to various relatives and friends and then excuses himself. He wants to smoke. Both Anna and Natalie are smokers and allowed to smoke in front of the house. Charles goes into hiding at a small hut while we wait outside, chatting with other passing young men. One has a bike and claims to have travelled all the way to Kenya with it. I am inclined to believe him. For food, Charles suggests going to the next small town, Ejisu. In the taxi, we pass Bonwire hotel, the guesthouse and the visitor centre we read about in our guidebook. We probably experienced the less touristic version of Bonwire. The spot, Charles brings us to, is not ready for food yet and our new friend asks us whether we want to accompany him to a place just down the road for a drink. Of course we agree although we have to realize again that the expression ‘not far’ has a different meaning for Ghanaians than we are used to. The place is in fact a backyard where a group of men are gathered, all dressed in funeral clothes. An old lady serves shots of the local alcohol. The smell is enough for me to understand how strong this must be. Despite George’s warnings, a member of my companions’ host family, Natalie tastes the drink. ‘Strong.’ Charles has to finish the rest. Back at the spot, the food is ready. I have rice balls and chicken, the other girls go for Fufu and without meat. They saw that a whole chicken was swimming in the soup. Natalie fishes an eyeball out of her soup. Still, the food tastes really good, is extremely cheap, about 6 Cedis for food and drinks altogether, and it is nice to eat with our hands like everybody else does.
