Last week was the anniversary of Bob Marley's death. I was spending a weekend at a beach side cottage with Simone, trying to ease her in slowly to life in Ghana. I thought an ocean breeze might take the edge off the heat, a tease really since she was soon to experience the unforgiving rays of the village.
When I picked her up from the airport I let her know as we were driving through the madness of Accra past sundown- the sea of traffic and pollution and peddling vendors- that we were heading somewhere rather peaceful. "It's very mellow there." I said, thinking of this particular place, where our room was booked, where crimpy haired dreadlocked locals strolled the town, nodding and pounding their fists to their chests- saying "Bless" as you walked by.
"Cool." She said, watching skeptically as two cars almost collided in front of us. "These drivers are crazy, eh?"
In the Greater Accra Region of Ghana, (where we would be visiting) May is reserved as a month of reflection and silence. People take this time to listen and connect to their ancestors, and believe it is essential to ban all noise in order to show respect to the spirits of those who have gone before them. Silence is the best way, they believe, to receive messages and give proper thanks. Locals take this very seriously, it is an ancient custom. The Rasta folk are required to put away all instruments, namely their drums, for the 31 days, and reflect.
It was for this very reason I was surprised to hear, on May 10th, the blasting of a Reggae concert when we pulled up to our cottage. Djembe drums, bass, keyboard, guitars, a few wild men shouting into their mic's "Jah Love! Jah Bless! Hale Selasie! Free your miiiiiiiinnnnnnnd"
I asked the man who gave us our room keys about this.
"They are celebrating Bob Marley. It is the anniversary of his death, did you not know?"
I nodded with my eyebrows, pretended that of course I knew the day Bob died. Common knowledge.
"Will you go?" He asked, motioning down to where all the palm trees were swaying oceanside, in the dark, in the area of the party noises.
Simone gave me a smile so I said yes. We would go.
Before I knew it we were shoeless, sweaty, dancing with a crowd passionate about Regaee music, bouncing and bobbing to a stoned tempo. "Welcome to Ghana!" I yelled to Simone, who had already been swooped up by a dancing partner, so huge he dwarfed her in each movement. I decided to link up with the old toothless crazy man in dirty shorts. He didn't leave my side all night, and slipped me his name and number when I told him at 4 am that it was time for me to go. When I said bye I mentioned to him in Twi that I could be his granddaughter and he laughed so hard spit flew out of his mouth in all directions.
The next day we walked on the beach, met some new friends, asked them about this whole respecting your ancestors thing. How deep did it go if they were now pounding wildly on their drums?
"Oh my Queens" they called us "But you must bow down" they said slowly in their heavy Reagee tones, "it is crrruuuccciiaal. Pay RE-spect!"
We joked how Bob Marley trumped their ancestors, and for a second they could see the humor, but with their deep rooted belief that the singer was close to God status they returned to seriousness. "Oh sistah, for 2 days, we must never forget. Never. For 2 days, we gather, we do some meditation on the greatness of the late Bob Marley, our prophet. Burn da fire Always burn da fire. (Smoke pot) Our ancestors, they understand."
We were speaking to a guy by the name of Jah (God) Bless. When Simone and I got inside later that day she told me it was kind of sad, that his name was "job-less". She noted that he did seem a little aimless. "He said it meant God's blessing so I don't feel too bad." I fell over laughing, and joined me when she realized the miscommunication. It's now our fall back phrase in times of boredom, to instigate some humor.
Later he came to fix the neck of her broken guitar. She asked if this was something he wanted to do for free, or did she need to pay him for his services. "Oh my Queen, you can give a little bit, maybe something from your hut."
She came back to me and relayed the conversation. "From our hut? What hut?" We laughed.
"Did he say 'heart'?" I queried. Simone lipped the words the way Jah Bless would have said them.
"OHHH!!! Heart! Ahhaha! I thought he wanted a little something from our hut, like this.." she said picking up a random knicknack, laughing at the recent misunderstandings.
The weekend was a great one, and Simone being a musician herself, appreciated the lift of the silence ban and the acquisition of all these new "friends".
"Everyone is so outgoing."
"Just wait until we get to Boamadumase" I said, sure that the villagers would love her free spirit.
~~~
On a different note, I just want to mention how blessed I feel to have such wonderful family and friends. When I went to the computer today and read all my emails and saw and felt all the love and support you guys give to me I was extremely touched. Thank you for your kind words, your stories, your one-liner keeping in touch emails, your compliments, your updates, your invitations. You are a beautiful thread in my life and I thank you for that.
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