Efua Sutherland
NEW LIFE AT KYEREFASO
Shall we say
Shall we put it this way
Shall we say that the maid of Kyerefaso, Foruwa, daughter of the
Queen Mother, was as a young deer, graceful in limb? Such was she,
with head held high, eyes soft and wide with wonder. And she was
light of foot, light in all her moving.
Stepping springily along the water path like a deer that had
strayed from the thicket, springily stepping along the water path,
she was a picture to give the eye a feast. And nobody passed her by
but turned to look at her again.
Those of her village said that her voice in speech was like the
murmur of a river quietly flowing beneath shadows of bamboo leaves.
They said her smile would sometimes blossom like a lily on her lips
and sometimes rise like sunrise.
The butterflies do not fly away from the flowers, they draw near.
Foruwa was the flower of her village.
So shall we say,
Shall we put it this way, that all the village butterflies, the
men, tried to draw near her at every turn, crossed and crossed her
path? Men said of her, 'She shall be my wife, and mine, and mine and
mine.'
But suns rose and set, moons silvered and died and as the days
passed Foruwa grew more lovesome, yet she became no one's wife. She
smiled at the butterflies and waved her hand lightly to greet them as
she went swiftly about her daily work:
'Morning, Kweku
Morning, Kwesi
Morning, Kodwo'
but that was all.
And so they said, even while their hearts thumped for her:
'Proud!'
Foruwa is proud...and very strange'
And so the men when they gathered would say:
'There goes a strange girl. She is not just the stiff-in-the-neck
proud, not just breasts-stuck-out I-am-the-only-girl-in-the-village
proud. What kind of pride is hers?'
The end of the year came round again, bringin the season of
festivals. For the gathering in of corn, yams and cocoa ther were
harvest celebrations. There were bride-meetings too. And it came to
the time when the Asafo companies should hold their festival. The
village was full of manly sounds, loud musketry and swelling choruses.
The pathfinding, path-clearing ceremony came to an end. The Asafo
marched on toward the Queen Mother's house, the women fussing round
them, prancing round them, spreading their cloths in their way.
'Osee!' rang the cry. 'Osee!' to the manly men of old. They
crouched like leopards upon the branches.
Before the drums beat
Before the danger drums beat, beware!
Before the horns moaned
Before the wailing horns moaned, beware!
They were upright, they sprang. They sprang. They sprang upon
the enemy. But now, blood no more! No more thundershot on
thundershot.
But still we are the leopards on the branches. We are those who
roar and cannot be answered back. Beware, we are they who cannot be
answered back.
There was excitement outside the Queen Mother's courtyard gate.
'Gently, gently,' warned the Asafo leader. 'Here comes the Queen
Mother.
Spread skins of the gentle sheep in her way.
Lightly, lightly walks our Mother Queen.
Shower her with silver,
Shower her with silver for she is peace.'
And the Queen Mother stood there, tall, beautiful, before the men
and there was silence.
'What news, what news do you bring?' she quietly asked.
'We come with dusty brows from our pathfinding, Mother. We come
with tired, thorn-pricked feet. We come to bathe in the coolness of
your peaceful stream. We come to offer our manliness to new life.'
The Queen Mother stood there, tall and beautiful and quiet. Her
fanbearers stood by her and all the women clustered near. One by one
the men laid their guns at her feet and then she said:
'It is well. The gun is laid aside. The gun's rage is silenced
in the stream. Let your weapons from now on be your minds and your
hands' toil.
'Come maidens, women all, join the men in dance for they offer
themselves to new life.'
There was one girl who did not dance.
'What, Foruwa!' urged the Queen Mother. 'Will you not dance? The
man are tired of parading in the ashes of their grandfathers'
glorious deeds. That should make you smile. They are tired of the
empty croak: "We are men, we are men."
'They are tired of sitting like vultures upon the rubbish heaps
they have piled upon the half-built walls of their grandfathers.
Smile, then. Foruwa, smile.
'Their brows shall now indeed be dusty, their feet thorn-pricked,
and "I love my land" shall cease to be the empty croaking of a
vulture upon the rubbish heap. Dance, Foruwa, dance!'
Foruwa opened her lips and this was all she said: 'Mother, i do
not find him here.'
'Who? Who do you not find here?'
'He with whom this new life shall be built. He is not here,
Mother. These men's faces are empty; there is nothing in them,
nothing at all.'
'Alas, Foruwa, alas, alas! What will become of you, my daughter?'
'The day I find him, Mother, the day I find the man, I shall come
running to you, and your worries will come to an end.'
'But Foruwa, Foruwa,' argued the Queen Mother, although in her
heart she understood her daughter, 'five years ago your rites were
fulfilled. Where is the child of your womb? Your friend Maanan
married. Your friend Esi married. Both had their rites with you.'
'Yes, Mother, they married and see how their steps once lively now
drag in the dust. The sparkle has died out of their eyes. Their
husbands drink palm wine the day long under the mango trees, drink
palm wine and push counters across the draughtboardsall the day, and
are they not already looking for other wives? Mother, the man I say
is not here.'
This conversation had been overheard by one of the men and soon
others heard what Foruwa had said. That evening there was heard a
new song in the village.
There was a woman long ago,
Tell that maid, tell that maid,
There was a woman long ago,
She would not marry Kwesi,
She would not marry Kwaw,
She would not, would not, would not.
One day she came home with hurrying feet,
I've found the man, the man, the man,
Tell that maid, tell that maid,
Her man looked like a chief,
Tell that maid, tell that maid,
Her man looked like a chief,
Most splendid to see,
But he turned into a python,
He turned into a python
AND SWALLOWED HER UP.
From that time onward there were some in the village who turned their
backs on Foruwa when she passed.
Shall we say
Shall we put it this way
Shall we say that a day came when Foruwa with hurrying feet came
running to her mother? She burst through the courtyard gate; and
there she stood in the courtyard, joy all over. And a stranger
walked in after her and stood in the courtyard beside her, stood tall
and strong as a pillar. Foruwa said to the astonished Queen Mother:
'Here he is, Mother, here is the man.'
The Queen Mother took a slow look at the stranger standing there
strong as a forest tree, and she said:
'You carry the light of wisdom on your face, my son. Greetings,
you are welcome. But who are you, my son?'
'Greetings, Mother," replied the stranger quietly. 'I am a
worker. My hands are all I have to offer your daughter, for they are
all my riches. I have travelled to see how men work in other lands.
I have that knowledge and my strength. That is all my story.'
Shall we say,
Shall we put it this way,
strange as the story is, that Foruwa was given in marriage to the
stranger.
There was a rage in the village and many openly mocked saying,
'Now the proud ones eat the dust.'
Shall we say,
Shall we put it this way
that soon, quite soon, the people of Kyerefaso began to take notice
of the stranger in quite a different way.
'Who,' some said, 'is this who has come among us? He who mingles
sweat and song, he for whom toil is joy and life is full and
abundant?'
'See,' said others, 'what a harvest the land yields under his
ceaseless care.'
'He has taken the earth and moulded it into bricks. See what a
home he has built, how it graces the village where it stands.'
'Look at the craft of his fingers, baskets or kente, stool or mat,
the man makes them all.'
'And our children swarm about him, gazing at him with wonder and
delight.'
Then it did not satisfy them any more to sit all day at their
draughtboards under the mango trees.
'See what Foruwa's husband has done,' they declared. 'Shall the
sons of the land not do the same?'
And soon they began to seek out the stranger to talk with him.
Soon they too were toiling, their fields began to yield as never
before, and the women laboured joyfully to bring in the harvest. A
new spirit stirred the village. As the carelessly built houses
disappeared one by one, and new homes built after the fashion of the
stranger's grew up, it seemed as if the village of Kyerefaso had been
born afresh.
The people themselves became more alive and a new pride possessed
them. They were no longer just grabbing from the land what they
desired for their stomachs' present hunger and for their present
comfort. They were looking at the land with new eyes, feeling it in
their blood, and thoughtfully building a permanent and beautiful
place for themselves and their children.
'Osee!' It was festival-time again. 'Osee!' Blood no more. Our
fathers found for us the paths. We are the roadmakers. They bought
for us the land with their blood. We shall build it with our
strength. We shall create it with our minds.
Following the men were the women and children. On their heads
they carried every kind of produce that the land had yielded and
crafts that their fingers had created. Green plantains and yellow
bananas were carried by the bunch in large white wooden trays.
Garden eggs, tomatoes, red oil-palm nuts warmed by the sun were piled
high in black earthen vessels. Oranges, yams, maize filled shining
brass trays and golden calabashes. Here and there were children
proudly carrying colourful mats, baskets and toys which they
themselves had made.
The Queen Mother watched the procession gathering on the new
village playground now richly green from recent rains. She watched
the people palpitating in a massive dance toward her where she stood
with her fanbearers outside the royal house. She caught sight of
Foruwa. Her load of charcoal in a large brass tray which she had
adorned with red hibiscus danced with her body. Happiness filled the
Queen Mother when she saw her daughter thus.
Then she caught sight of Foruwa's husband. He was carrying a
white lamb in his arms, and he was singin happily with the men. She
looked on him with pride. The procession had approached the royal
house.
'See!' rang the cry of the Asafo leader. 'See how the best in all
the land stands. See how she stands waiting, our Queen Mother.
Waiting to wash the dust from our brow in the coolness of her
peaceful stream. Spread skins of the gentle sheep in her way,
gently. Spread the yield of the land before her. Spread the craft
of your hands before her, gently, gently.
Lightly, lightly walks our Queen Mother, for she is peace.'
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/garrison27
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