Witness to Community Singing

What keeps the WTIG cohort alive, excited, energized and refreshed while on the road? Music! Community music!

Music calls us to attention ! Music has the the power to transport us back in time, calm our worried minds, or boost our moods!

Each Cohort, this summer, learned at least one Ghanaian song.  Then there are the songs sung as the groups traveled from place to place.
As a participant and music teacher of the groups, i taught by playing with the hope that all will learn by ear.  Some songs were taught by rote, and one by reading music.
Ghanaians learn songs often by listening and repetition. North American and Ghanaians alike heard and learned some of the songs for the first time.
As a group we encouraged  and helped each other, each person doing creative renditions of the songs in our own individual ways.


The approach we used involved some written music and, most often, printed lyrics.  We sent the words of the songs to cohort members through WhatsApp. When time allowed we learned the tunes first, then the words. Most songs were practiced on the bus.
A smile. Agoo. Words of encouragement. Humor. And learning begins!

I first Introduce a song by singing it through entirely. Afterward, I have cohort members sing a  verse in phrases. I interpret each line after it is sung, slowly bringing the song and its story to life.  The melody continues to build up too.


When the majority of the cohort members are feeling sufficiently confident with the words, it is time to sing the whole song together, slowly at first, matching the lyrics with sound so that the song feels  familiar to the tongue. I make sure they sing the melody in a range that is comfortable for everyone, not too high and not too low. Then I introduce the djembe drums and frekyiwaa to hold the rhythm together.


In Ghanaian community singing, nothing is sung wrongly. Every sound is community.
Whether you pronounce words right or wrongly, it is all music!
Here is community singing with Cohort Sankofa!

Daniel N. Agyei ( Kwasi).
Kpohe D/A Basic school.
Mathematics and Creative Art.
Ningo-prampram District, Ghana

Confronting the Heartbreaking Truth at Elmina Castle

As I approached Elmina Castle, its towering presence seemed to stand as a silent witness to the horrors that had unfolded within its walls. The waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashed against the shore, as if trying to drown out the anguish that still lingers in the air. The weight of history settled heavily on my heart and a provocative hush enveloped the surroundings, as if the very soul of the place was in angry mourning. 

And yet, walking through its gates felt like entering sacred ground, my steps, a pilgrimage to pay homage to the suffering endured by black souls. 

The walls whispered songs of pain, drained of hopeful notes, stripped of hope and humanity. I listened.

Beneath the facade of beauty of the castle, the dungeons awaited, dark caverns where over 400 men,  crammed into suffocating darkness. The hot damp air, unmoving , seemed to echo their silent cries, and i could also see their anguished whispers etched into the stones that held the castle together. 

The dungeons are a stark testament to the inhumanity that human beings are capable of inflicting upon one another. It will remain a blot on history, and this fact struck me to my core.

While the enslaved were confined to narrow, overcrowded dungeons with poor ventilation and dire living conditions, the slave masters enjoyed comfortable accommodations, good clothing, and well-ventilated rooms above them.

The presence of a nearby fort for the slave masters' accommodations adds another layer to this disturbing arrangement. The stark proximity of the fort, built to ensure the security and comfort of those in power, emphasizes the deliberate planning involved in the maintenance of the Transatlantic Slave Trade. It also expressed the vast power imbalance that characterized this era. This glaring juxtaposition highlights the systemic dehumanization and exploitation of the enslaved Africans, relegating them to mere commodities.

On top of the male dungeons, stood a church, a shadow of its role but a reminder of the role Christianity played in encouraging the slave trade. Here I hope the teachings of peace, humanity, and “love your neighbor as yourself” was preached and yet the cruel reality of practice didn’t reach beneath the church’s foundation. 

The presence of the church on top of the dungeons is a powerful illustration of the hypocrisy that existed during the era of the Transatlantic Slave Trade. While religious principles of compassion and kindness were being preached, the inhumane treatment of enslaved individuals continued below. This contrast underscores the disturbing capacity of human beings to justify and perpetrate immense suffering while upholding seemingly noble ideals.

The governor, the embodiment of authority, used his power to subject female slaves to a fate unimaginably cruel. He selected some of these women and ordered them to be cleaned, washed down, and shaved, for his selfish carnal desires. 

Our tour guide told us that

Women who dared to resist the governor’s advances were subjected to further degradation. Chained naked for 24 hours, they endured the scorching sun, relentless rain and the torment of swarming insects, all while being exposed to the elements. Their bodies and spirits were broken, a horrifying deterrent to any defiance.

As I stood before the infamous "Door of No Return," a heavy silence pressed upon me. This threshold marked the point of no return, where dreams turned to ashes and futures dissolved into a void of uncertainty. The agony of those who passed through this door was palpable, a visceral ache that gripped my heart. 

I, a witness from the future, felt their anguish . 

The weight of their suffering bore down upon me and my tears flowed freely, mingling with my pain and the walls enveloping me. 

To me, Elmina Castle and dungeons aren’t  just a tourist destination. They are a vessel of collective suffering, a crucible of humanity's capacity for cruelty. A holder of grief, history and hope too. 

The sounds of cries reverberated through my soul, and I left Elmina with an emptiness that could only be filled by a burning determination for justice.

In the face of this heart-wrenching history, we must confront our shared past with unflinching honesty. We must feel the pain and allow it to stir our souls to action. Elmina Castle and dungeons stand as a sacred monument not only to the memory of our darkest past, but also as a plea for a future where such horrors are never allowed to be repeated.

Joseph Koranteng, Student Teacher Presbyterian College of Education, Akuapem, Akropong

The Stench of Terror: Unconquered and Rehumanized

Having personally experienced that gut wrenching smell of terror and horror

Contrasted with the most beautiful, scenic view beyond its walls, 

I reflect on how, after feeling all the feels in my very bones,

And connecting all the connects in my very soul,

Hearing the inaudible voices and invisible beings crying out,

How do I ignore the truth of my history?

How do I beautify such a dark story to soothe the white man’s conscience?

How do I not educate my little black boys and girls of their history of endurance, survival, tenacity and resilience?

How do I not educate my little brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews about the ancestries on whose backs they stand, the ancestries who refused to die so that they can live?

How do I not inform the mass of the existence of such a dark history, the atrocities brought about by others, so that this awareness becomes a campaign cry of never again?

Where does accountability begin?

Why force a people, the same people who bear the brunt of this atrocity to denounce it, to pretend it never happened and to applaud the colonial masters for all the good they did for us instead?

In this new form of shackles, slavery by another name, takes on a new form and a new life.

For to teach the white man’s version is to teach that as a people we have no past, no history, and without colonialism we would not be, without colonialism, we would not have thrived, without colonialism we are not a people.

From wholesome lives to dehumanization. From homes to dungeons. 

From the dungeons to the door of no return. 

From the door of no return to the middle passage. 

From the middle passage to worlds unknown. 

From worlds unknown to lost identity. 

From lost identity to generational trauma. From generational trauma to resistance, to strength, to survival, to here.

You dehumanized us, we found the courage to rehumanize ourselves,

You destroyed our culture, we recreated the old into the new,

You brought us darkness, we found light instead, 

You took us to lands unknown, we forged new environments,

You delineated our identity, we rose up anew,

You tried to crush our spirits, we used that very spirit to keep you alarmed,

You tried to stifle our will, we made a way.

You thought you conquered us, unimaginably, we remain unconquered.

We are not who you told us were,

We are not who you broke us to be

We are the souls that live with,

Our. ancestors. wildest. dreams,

Carol Dixon, Academic Coach K-8 , North Broward Academy of Excellence, North Lauderdale, Florida

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

Hope and Determination: A Ghanaian Story

“Agoo!” “Amee!”

Guest speaker Mrs. Gertrude Fefoame shared her journey with us through traditional Ghanaian storytelling. In a call-and-response style, Fefoame chanted:

“Agoo” means “to pay attention or listen up.”

And we, the eager Witness Tree family, responded “Amee!” which means “You have my attention.” Ms. Fefoame’s story is one faced with obstacles but ends with inspiration and hope.

As a young child, Fefoame started to slowly lose her eyesight...she could not see the board. Advised by her teacher to tell her mom, her mom acted quickly to get glasses. But as she got older, her eyesight slowly started to deteriorate further to the point where doctors informed her and her family that there were no more glasses to help her see.

Determined, Fefoame was resourceful. She used a variety of methods with the help of family, friends, and teachers to continue learning. At one point using a magnifying glass to help her read and at other times she orally completed her exam.

She ended up going earning a diploma in special needs education for visually impaired persons. Despite her satisfaction with the school, there was stigmatization and discrimination about disabilities and special education. Nevertheless, Fefoame persevered to the point that today she continues to be an advocate for gender and disability rights and the Chair of the United Nations Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Fefoame is the first African woman to hold this position.

In addition to this story of hope, we were gifted and taught how Ghanaian storytelling and music can transform a story, and engage the listeners in a kinesthetic manner. For me this was an ancestral reminder as well as an educational tool.

By Rogene Reid, (she/her/hers)

School Administrator with Toronto District School Board and

Additional Qualification Instructor at Lakehead University

Nkyinkyim

 The Nkyinkyim Museum is the inspiration of Ghanaian artist, Kwame Akoto-Bamfo.  His genius and works also extend across the Atlantic to the Equal justice Institute Legacy Museum in Montgomery, Alabama.

 Through sculpture, murals, performance, and oral history the Nkyinkyim Museum documents the twists and turns of a nation and of peoples that script details, nuance, and honesty to the narrative of Ghana and Africa.  The museum stands on the shoulders of and builds on the traditions of Pan-African leaders that amplify an African voice to counter the prevalent American and European voices.  The narrative authored by the European and American perspective about Africa and countries like Ghana is incomplete and self-serving, emphasizing only the parochial interests of the western world - not the interests of Africa and countries like Ghana.  In authoring a more complete and holistic narrative, the story told at the museum celebrates the various civilizations of Ghana and Africa and their contributions to world culture.  It also charts the twists and turns of Africa - twists and turns that stole generations from these shores to a life of chattel enslavement, and then shackled much of the continent to subservient European colonization.  The legacy of those crimes linger.  That legacy is the past that speaks to the present, and demands restorative justice and reconciliation - a further mission of the museum.  The art and oral history of the grounds of the museum provide space for healing, restoration, and justice.

In Africa, the head of the body keeps the soul.  At the museum, this spirituality expresses itself at an installation where sculptures of countless African heads fill a grove of Baobab trees.  Some are in chains, some in the water (representing the Middle Passage), some appear reverent.  It is emotional and haunting, but there are slivers of hope and beauty in honoring the many and the voiceless.  It tells the story of the twists and turns of a nation and of a continent.  It echoes the voice of Ghana and of Africa.

 My descendants come from Europe, and I was socialized into the unaware and incomplete European and American world view, which tends to predominate in the world at large.  Yet, a visit to the Nkyinkyim Museum reminds visitors that that perspective is only one of many, and each perspective contributes to the mosaic which collectively reveals a greater truth about being and essence and connection that broadens that very narrow and parochial view to which the masses subscribe.  It becomes the duty of the western world to amplify those African voices and learn from those voices.  To quote the esteemed WTIG faculty member Professor Pash Obeng, "I came, I saw, I learned".

 The grove of Baobab trees that guards the souls of sculpted heads screams another Akan proverb.  "Knowledge is like a Baobab tree".  One person alone cannot wrap their hands around the trunk of the Baobab.  It takes many to link hands to understand and absorb a larger collective wisdom.  Coming together to link arms around the trunk remains the mission of the Witness Tree Institute.  We will be wise to that proverb as the journey of Cohort 2 of The Witness Tree Institute of Ghana 2023 begins.  The cohort has chosen the Adinkra symbol Sankofa (learning from the past to move forward) as the emblem for the group.

We will listen to African voices and learn from each other in order to script a new narrative.  We will use resiliency and versatility to survive the twists and turns of the journey which will bring us to Cape Coast, Elmina, Assin Manso, Kumasi, Tafo, Akuapem, and greater Accra.  We will nurture a "gracious space" where spirit and strangers enter and learn.  We will smile, listen, laugh, cry, hold hands, and share.  And most importantly, we will bear witness and be transformed by each other and our community, and return with lessons to enlighten our schools and families.  The Witness Tree casts that enduring shadow.  The twists and turns of the journey of Cohort 2, Sankofa, commences.

 By David Duane, Witness Tree Institute Program Leader and Chair of the Science Department, The Fenn School, Concord, Massachusetts

A New Quilt

I dedicate this to the memory of my sister Felicia Ayorkor Cobblah who passed away on July 15 at 7:30pm halfway through the journey of WTIG Cohort One. As our ancestors say, "The opposite of life is not death. It is birth." Renewal. 

 

One of the joys of planning the big program is watching the miracle of ideas emerge. Experiential learning, if over-planned, ceases to be truth. It requires faith in the process. It is like watching your child grow into what you invested in them but still wondering with a multiplicity of emotions, as they confront and live their world, if they are prepared. 

 

Standing at the door of the hall where life was outperforming itself through dance, I witnessed a seamless weave of hopeful enthusiasm merged with the collective force of drums and songs until all became one. That was the beginning of the birth of WTIG Cohort one!

 

All of us brought our identities, and the stories we carry to this program-

Stories born out of love, legacies, creativity and also scars. that remind us of journeys taken.  For two weeks we would challenge ourselves and curiously seek to know from each other.

 

Everywhere we went, storytellers shared their stories with us. At Cape Coast Castle and Dungeons, the walls and smells told us what they had witnessed. At Elmina, the sea  soothed the cries of those who still moan in the wind.  

 

Some members of WTIG told their stories with words, some told these stories through their silence, others told the stories by being. All of us gave each other the gift of listening, and throughout the program we experienced the beauty and open-handed generosity of courage, empathy, honesty, humility, and perhaps eventually, trust. 

 

We also assumed responsibility for our learning. Isabel Wilkerson put it directly when she wrote that “We are responsible for our own ignorance or, with time and openhearted enlightenment, our own wisdom."

 

By the second week of the program, we were beginning to sing in harmony, but even if we sang the same songs, and heard the same words, our past and our identities shaped our interpretations, leading to important conversations unplanned, and growth.

 

The four elements of Gracious Space form part of the underpinnings of WTIG:  the Spirit, the Stranger, the Setting and Learning in public. These helped Cohort One to engage the science of feeling with others. I hope that when we encountered a different spirituality that puzzled or didn’t make sense to our own experience, we asked ourselves how these came to be. Perhaps how ours came to be too?

 

What does it mean that Ghanaian languages have no gender pronouns? That there is no word for cousin? That proverbs are important in conversations? That spontaneity is encouraged and time is not static but an event? Why is respect for the elderly important? What has nature been trying to tell us in Ghanaian proverbs and songs? Where did we find echoes of our identity? What voices were present and what voices were missing? What enduring lessons have we learned?  

 

As one of the names for the Supreme Being suggests, “Okye ma ni so”  or  “He who shares what is enough for all.”  The universe has endowed each of us with what it knows we need.  So it is the combination of the gifts we embody, our giving and sharing that ensured a successful program. With gratitude, I therefore want to sew these into a quilt of memory and appreciation and recall-:

 

The unfailing, positive energy of Kelly Sampar, the determination and infectious laughter of LaFrance Carpenter, the gracefulness of our Queen mother Denise Carter Mataboge, Martin William’s can-do attitude and fashion statements, Dela Awutey’s magnanimity of spirit and graciousness, Hetal Amin’s charming curiosity and voice, Kwasi Agyei’s seemingly inexhaustible talents and flexibility, Olivia Williams’s innocence and brilliance, Mawuli Fianu’s creativity and eloquence, Teye Akwadah’s ever-present gratitude and singing voice, Tyler’s humility and smile,  Elise’s caring nature, her “yes” and her filtered water bag.

 

At our final meeting and celebration as a group, I asked you to share with us when you, at a point on our journey, received gracious space from someone. Now I ask you this; When did you give someone the gift of gracious space? 

 

I wish you strength and courage to pursue even the darkest parts of our countries’ histories and also our individual stories. “Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light,” says Audre Lorde.

 

I hope that you take back with you the cumulative impact of small, good deeds. You will need these because the work of understanding the spiritual learning you have received truly begins when you return to the comfort, familiarity and security of your home or country. 

 

There the story continues. 

Shape it as you will, 

and stitch together what was, 

what is 

and what can be 

for generations 

to come.



Tete Cobblah

Director,

Witness Tree Institute of Ghana.

Maynard, Massachusetts USA