Yesterday I went to Aƒevaza, the town festival, in which different clans gather together and march one behind the other to the riverside and then they all get into the water to symbolize that they will no longer fight and kill and that there will be peace. Their forefathers instituted the festival and although it was cancelled for several years (due to unruliness, fighting and killing), it has been reinstated and is carried out annually.
Everyone was wearing red and gathered under a mango tree near the government school in the middle of town. Mawuli, my neighbor’s teenaged nephew, and I arrived we saw hundreds of people dressed in all sorts of red garments and cloth, painted faces, leaves wrapped around peoples’ head, drums and anything else that could be used as an instrument being played, people dancing, and plenty of alcohol.
I debated whether to continue in the “festivities” but knowing the history and significance, I really wanted to see it all take place. Mawuli and I walked alongside the people a little ways away and then took a short cut and advanced to the front of the parade. He took many pictures capturing some cultural moments for sure! Old women were pouring libations on the road as the clans walked behind them. Women were throwing salt and one poor old woman looked like she was fighting an imaginary battle as she wielded sticks in both hands. Some were rolling on the asphalt road. I saw a younger woman dancing but it looked as if there was nothing behind her eyes. I’m not sure if she was intoxicated or possessed! The men were walking proudly with chests out.
One man had plenty of alcohol and was dressed in a black women’s top with a pink corset on top with the top of it stuffed. He was wearing pants with a skirt over it. To top off his outfit, he had a black wig with a headband around it. I saw him walking up and tried to avoid his gaze to relieve myself from the expectation to greet him. He didn’t care and walked right up to me and put one arm around my waist and one around my shoulder pinning my arm so I couldn’t move. His body odor mixed with alcohol made me shudder and I shrugged my shoulder until I got free. He came at me again and I moved and positioned myself behind Mawuli. When Mawuli saw my face and that I was uncomfortable, he gripped the man’s arm and would let him advance no further. He laughed but said something to the man in a serious tone and the guy left. From that time on I stayed within an arm’s length from this teenage guy as we walked.
And it was as we walked that I thought about all the men who have stepped in on my behalf over the years and my heart was filled with appreciation. I remember a time when one of my brothers was nearly enraged when he saw the way a man looked at me in Wal-Mart one time. I also remember when one of my brothers declared he would take down the guy I had just confessed that I really liked. And my dad has always been my rock and protector first and foremost. Much of the security that I do have stems from his constant presence and enduring love and protection through the years. When I left home I had several other men, young and old, looking out for me and here in Ghana there are more men and women than ever who step in on my behalf.
It’s just another way that God has truly blessed me and although I feel like many times I do acknowledge my gratitude for men stepping in on my behalf but that doesn’t stop my heart for being so grateful for those who have stepped in for me when they could have chosen otherwise. So to all the men who were or are or will be in my life, helping a sister out…THANK YOU!!!!!
We made it all the way to the riverside and watched everything play out, taking plenty of pictures. I was asked all kinds of questions- Where are you from? Will you give me money? Where are you going? Where are you coming from? Where is your husband? Can I collect your number? How are you? What is your name?
I am mostly glad that I went but will likely never go again! Quite an experience it was!!
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