A month ago the Witness Tree Institute made the decision to continue with our educational program in Ghana this summer (July 23-August 5, 2021). This, after two important sessions were postponed due to the Covid pandemic. Times still remain uncertain, but it is our belief, given the current vaccination trends in the USA and Ghana, that we can have a productive and safe program in Ghana.
Since then, I have been reflecting on my return to Ghana. I start making plans, packing and buying my ticket and then, I hear them calling....my ancestors I mean. They call, not with voices, but with songs like stars that show themselves in the absence of the sun. They’ve been present all the time. Just waiting for time to walk by and bow.
I am being summoned and reminded of who I am. It is my hope that the WTIG cohort that visits Ghana this summer would also have been summoned and will be welcomed by their ancestors. Africa is the birthplace of all humans - our past printed and choreographed by lines that walk straight to us, without their meanderings while marked with stories that cannot fade. Every identity can be traced back to those ancient unique voices, songs and stories, while clinging to the one source that ties us inextricably together - our humanity.
One of the spiritual activities that tie me to my ancestors, family and identity is the practice of the pouring of libation. This is an offering and intent to reconnect and call into presence the spirits and memories of one’s ancestors. My father would pour gin and water on the earth at our house to invite my forefathers and mothers to join us on important occasions, for example, when I returned to Ghana after years of being away. This ceremony is also one of the events that WTIG proudly offers on the opening day of our program. The ceremony is performed by priests of the original inhabitants of the coast in Accra, the Gã people, to welcome all WTIG participants.
The ceremony is at once moving, spiritual and affirming, especially for those of us who feel marginalized, misunderstood, judged, diminished, erased or undone. The invitation of ancestors through the soil emphasizes the sentiment that the African soil, which embraces the return of its children, is hallowed ground. That participants of the ceremony would be standing on earth that has given birth multiple times over time, but also soil that has been tortured, shamed, rejected and beaten with guilt, wars, thievery and betrayal. The soil has also yielded the hope and glory we would be seeking in learning and reconnecting. This WTIG adventure would lead to self-examination and acknowledgement.
I highlight the above because, for various reasons, including this global pandemic, some of us will arrive scared and scarred, having kept our heads up above water for so long. Some of us will have a reason to keep searching. Some of us will arrive physically unscathed, but just like the starved inside of dried fruit, we may arrive dried and unanswered. In need and searching, each of us, regardless of difference, will be reminded of our individual powers, our worth and the price our ancestors have paid for us to exist.
At this welcoming ceremony of cleansing, renewal and affirmation, my mother would be on my mind, her voice replaying from the many years before, her shout of surprise at my sudden presence, and the gentle “Pat, pat, pat “ on the mattress of her bed where she spent many hours until her passing two years ago. “Tena ase. Tena ase! Woaberɛ!! Sit down! Sit down! You are tired!!” And I would sit some more even after many hours of plane ride. My mother will welcome me home. “Have some water. Num nsu kakraa.”
Many of us have weathered the unspeakable around the world. I can imagine at this ceremony of welcome, our ancestors will welcome us with bowls filled with our needs. Each ancestral arm that is stretched offers something that has been paid for – something for each person’s healing and hunger.
Part of a Tracy Smith poem evokes the largeness that libations and affirmation of one’s identity and worth can gift a person, especially people who have been called..
....all manner of things
from the Dictionary of Shame—
not English, not words, not heard,
but worn, borne, carried, never spent—
we feel now a largeness coming on,
something passing into us. We know
not in what source it was begun, but
rapt, we watch it rise through our fallen,
our slain, our millions dragged, chained.
I know I always return from my trips and periodic education in Ghana with a mission for the next generation, because I return having touched my ancestors. I return with soul and purpose, and my resilience and hope is even more lit. I return with light, pride and a proclamation again embedded in Tracy Smith’s “We Feel Now a Largeness Coming On”. In spite of all the challenges life has thrown at us, we have built resilience and hope. She asks, “Do you see how mighty you’ve made us, all these generations running?”
So for all people who are joining us on our educational adventure this summer, I welcome you. We embark on our journey and arrive with the deepest gratitude to all our donors, especially to our first “anonymous” donor whose generosity allowed WTIG to be launched successfully. More donations from supportive hearts made it possible for us to fund four Ghanaian teachers to join us, and also two American teachers. We arrive with gratitude to my committed board and council of educators, social activists and thinkers without whose support and encouragement, our vision would have been difficult to see.
When we arrive at the shores of the ancient soil you will be with us, and together we shall hear our ancestors calling us in welcome saying, “The beautiful ones have arrived. Tena ase! Tena ase! Wo aberɛ! Num nsu kakra! Sit down, sit down. You are tired. Have some water!”
Tete Cobblah
(Director of WTIG)