The Benefits of Magic and Murkiness

Before heading to Ananse Akuraa (Spider’s Village), our group went on a quest for magic berries — rare, indigenous to Ghana, and officially unnamed. Even though chances seemed slim that a bush would be fruiting at the exact time we needed it, two scouting parties set out from the bus. Philip ended up the hero of the hour, returning with a branch of 16 berries, while Ama, Dela, and Kwasi made a valiant effort to recover two. Amidst cheers for Philip and appreciative ribbing for Kwasi, Dela, and Ama, we set out to Ananse Akuraa, the rest of us still waiting to find out what exactly the berries did or signified. 

At the end of our visit to Ananse Akuraa, amidst the fruit and trees that Prof. Kofi Asare Opoku planted on the property to promote environmental sustainability and to educate future generations about plants and their medicinal uses, a plate of orange slices circulated around the group. Sweet and refreshing, we thought the slices were a simple snack to enjoy during our reflection. However, they turned out to be the baseline for our magic berry experience/experiment. Initially, sucking the flavorful pulp off of the berries felt like an experience in and of itself. Then, a fresh orange slice arrived in our hands, and the true “magic” began. The magic berries amplified the sweetness of the orange, bringing the baseline up an octave. Wide eyes and wider grins abounded.

For me, the beauty and magic of the berries reside in their ability to amplify and call attention to something that already exists but seems common or routine. One of the magical and beautiful elements of Ghanaian culture and society resides in its peoples’ abilities to amplify and create space for everyday stories and values. The answers to questions come through narrative. The current of communication flows towards the lesson at the end of the conversation. The voices of ancestors join in. The invitation to engage and be present is extended as soon as one enters a new space. The combined sound, rhythm, and movement of dance communicate a message. The sweetness of the stories lives in the collective wisdom and modes of sharing.

Another lesson at Ananse Akuraa, delivered by Prof. Pash Obeng, came in the form of — you may have guessed — a story (proverb) about how lotus bloom from murky waters. 

The beauty in so many people’s stories and cultures exists alongside or as a result of responding to murkiness and challenge. As a white woman of European decent with resources, alongside the joy and curiosity traveling to Ghana cultivates, I have encountered my own murky waters. My internal dialogue has never been so active. On day two, while on a stroll in Accra with another white cohort member, questions and reflections kept circulating in my head: I’m recognizing that people are looking/staring at me. What are they thinking? Positive or negative? Do I have permission to take a picture? What gives me permission to take a picture or not? Am I doing the right or expected thing? How do I establish relationships so that I am not “touring” others’ lives? Am I making assumptions about how much or how little impact my decisions and actions have? When I am in the United States, my internal dialogue ebbs and flows and does not necessitate as much mental energy to navigate public spaces, which many people cannot claim.

Like the berries from the beginning of my post, this opportunity with Witness Tree Institute not only amplifies the beauty, learning, and sweetness of Ghana, but also the “bitter-sweetness” inherent in the challenges faced comprehending my own roles and responsibilities when I arrive anywhere new, but particularly somewhere where I present as “other” so immediately. At the end of our experience, I am sure that my own lotus, fed by the myriad of moments and reflections, will contain its own sort of magic that I can carry with me to enrich how I show up in my communities and the perspectives of my students.

Emma Creeden, 7th grade English and Team Leader The Carroll School, Lincoln Massachusetts