Taking cocoyam to Fanteakwa
Begro, capital of the Fanteakwa District of the Eastern Region, is one of the most famous towns in Akyem Abuakwa.
It is the bastion of the Western (Benkum) division of the Akyem Abuakwa Army. In ancient times, the Benkum part of the Akyem Abuakwa state was more exposed to hostile states than any other state. The Asante, the Kwahu, the Akwamu, the Krobo and even parts of Eweland had borders with Akyem Benkum. So the people there knew all about warfare. And their valour was valued greatly by the rest of Akyem Abuakwa.
In 1943, I encountered the Benkum Army in person! It was purely accidental: the King of Akyem Abuakwa, Nana Sir Ofori Atta, had “gone to his village”. This “village” was called “Banso”, and when the King “went” there, he never returned to his capital, Kyebi.
Everyone in Akyem Abuakwa (apart from strangers) understood this to be code for “the King has died”. Nobody dared express the idea in plain language: in case some hostile group heard it and attacked our state, because without a King, it would be presumed to find it difficult to fight back.
We were at Asiakwa, in the Nifa (Eastern) division of the state. We were supposed to be great ‘rivals’ with the Benkum people when it came to warfare, with each division vying with the other to record acts of valour in war, the better to become well-known as great warriors throughout the state. But in actual fact, we respected each other and co-operated well, because when the rightwing and the leftwing of an army worked together in unison, they could work out and execute more effective strategies.
But only the warriors knew this; they were brothers-in-arms, but the rest of the Akyem community maintained the fiction that “Nifafuor ne Benkumfuor nnka!” (the Rightwing and the Leftwing hate each other’s guts!)
Now, when Nana Ofori Atta “went to his village” in 1943, all villages and towns in Akyem Abuakwa were supposed to send delegations to Kyebi to perform ceremonies pertaining to his funeral. No town knew when what delegation would pass through its environs on its way to Kyebi, and one morning, my family was on its way to our farm, as usual, when on rounding a bend, we came face to face with the Benkum delegation, on its way to Kyebi.
We, the children, were the first to see them. In their war attire, they were so frightening to look at that we just cried and ran into the bushes to hide. It was almost unbelievable – they made noise whatsoever as they marched, and one minute we were chattering merrily as usual, when, in the next, we were face to face with the fully armed Benkum army.
Amazingly, my father didn’t join the rest of us in running into the bushes. Instead, he took one look at the army and went forward to meet its leaders. We all thought he was done for. But he shook hands with the warriors in front and passed through them to go and greet their chief, the Benkumhene.
From my hiding place, I watched the proceedings. Benkumhene was a fearsome-looking man, with a bushy, full beard. He wore a hat with many amulets woven into it – all round. My heart nearly came into my mouth as I watched my father go near him, right hand extended.
Behind me, I heard my mother mutter under her breath that my father was “too forward”! What was he doing leaving his family and going to greet the fearsome warrior?
I had one of the most pleasant surprises of my life when instead of ordering his guards to cut off my father’s head (as my mother’s words of fear had made me expect!) Benkumhene smiled at my father, shook his hands warmly. They chatted for about three minutes. And then, the delegation resumed its march towards Kyebi.
We were all full of questions for my father. He patiently explained that as the Okyeame (spokesman) of our Queen Mother, he often met the Benkumhene and his entourage when they all went to Kyebi for a state council meeting. He had given him a message to send to our chief, the Nifahene. He wouldn’t tell us what the message was. It was from one chief to the other and no-one else should know about it (my father said.)
From then on, I adopted the Benkumhene as my friend, and whenever Akyem chiefs gathered, I looked for him and greeted him in my head. As far as I was concerned, no chief was as regal in looks as the Benkumhene, and I judged other chiefs by the closeness or otherwise of their chiefly mien to his own.
As a result of my encounter with the Benkumhene, I got into several fights with my age group at Asiakwa. We had inherited a derisory taunt which we directed at the people of Begro, implying that they were only good at growing very nice cocoyams.
The taunt went like this: if one swallowed a larger than usual ball of fufuo during meal-times, and the ball made a loud noise, GOROH!, whilst making its way from the throat to the stomach, one declared a rhyme to go with the “GROH!” sound, as follows: “Meko Begoro!” (I want to go back to Begoro!) In our childish imagination, cocoyam always clamoured to “go back home”! That was our “Coal To Newcastle” type of wisecrack, so to speak.
Benkumhene had convinced me with his nobility of appearance that this wisecrack was disrespectful to Begoro. And I got into fights, defending my rather unpopular opinion.
Recently, I heard that because galamsey had destroyed many of their farms, the people of Begoro sometimes have to buy cocoyam from Accra, to take to Begoro!
I must say I don’t believe a word of it. And I am prepared, once again, to get into a fight with whoever repeats it to my hearing.
BY CAMERA DUODU
