A LETTER TO COHORT SANKOFA
Tete Cobblah
Dear Friends,
As you embark on this journey, I will be with you from afar in Massachusetts. However, I am compelled to say Akwaaba because I will be close to you in spirit and through technology. As I experience excitement and hope for you, certain words and phrases come to me as I think about some commentary and suggestions for this cohort.
Our world: I find myself holding on to two truths at once. The goal of the Witness Tree Institute is to seek the best in humanity—to learn, to listen, to witness joy, creativity, memory, and hospitality across this land that receives all of you. This you will find. You will find out how hospitable the people of Ghana are. It fills me with pride that despite the many changes my native land has undergone, that spirit of hospitality and warmth remains. And yet, I cannot ignore the very conditions that threaten the future of our shared human family, or the hearts of our children, our students and the generations to come. Alternatively, I cannot unsee the pain of despair, anger, fear, sorrow in the videos showing flooding of many parts of Accra and greater Accra recently; the images of death and destruction are still on my mind. As I wrote in our last newsletter, our hearts go out to the children, women, and men who have suffered the pains of emotional, psychological and physical loss.
The message of Witness Tree is simple, even if the work is not: if we are to attain even a measure of peace and wholeness, we must learn to hold hands across difference and feel each other’s heartbeats, as we are, quite literally, made from the same cloth. We cannot do without one another. Ubuntu Philosophy explains that "Belonging is the culture of shared humanity. We are made of the same fabric, meaning no one is an island, and no one is an outsider by nature." So, the pain of Ghana is ours too.
A Different Mirror: During this program in Ghana, remind yourself that the world you come from doesn’t define the rest of humanity—a reminder that no single place contains all truth, all sorrow, or all hope. Every land sings a part of the same unfinished human hymn- a song of hope and peace.
Listen: In a world increasingly shaped by reductive conversations and hardened arguments—as Kara Swisher reminds us—we hope you are challenged to resist simplification. To embrace what is new and different. To remain curious and respectful. To listen not only to others, but to the quieter voices within us, with purpose. Listen to the air between words and breaths.
Learning deeply: There is a kind of learning that requires openness without guilt, reflection without paralysis. Whoever you are, your identity will shape how you interpret Ghana, her history and culture. We are called to explore—even to step toward and touch what is in shadow and what is not yet understood. This experience may allow you to merge with more hope than determination to become an agent of change.
Questions: This journey will ask questions of us, especially as we experience joy, uncertainty, pride or even guilt. Why do “empty” historical places like Elmina sometimes lend themselves to reflection, contemplation and presence? In a world filled with noise, how do we move toward deep focus on what matters most? And how do we respond, with grace and love, to systems where wealth can distort belonging and even attempt to own the souls of countries and people? And perhaps most importantly, ask yourself: What stories do you hold on to when you are feeling displaced? What of yourself has emerged? Let those questions travel with you.
Gratitude: From experience, I offer this gentle guidance: find a way to ground yourself in vulnerable moments on this trip. Look around you each day and offer gratitude. Draw strength from the fact that you are loved, and that you are held within a wider human story. Keep your eyes and heart open for grace in simple things.
Prayers: We begin, as we always do in Ghana, with prayer and offering of libation—words that connect the seen and unseen, the living and the remembered:
Yɛfrɛ yɛn adɔfoɔ nkaeɛ ne wɔn honhom a ɛda so te ase—wɔn a wɔka yɛn ho nnɛ ne wɔn a wɔadi yɛn anim. Momma wɔn agyapadeɛ nnyini wɔ yɛn mu sɛ ɔdɔ a ɛnsa da.
Momma wɔn honhom nhyɛ yɛn den wɔ amanehunu mu, na wɔmma yɛn akoma mmrɛ. Na sɛ abufuo anaa ɔsɔretia hyia yɛn a, momma yɛde ayamye, fafiri, ne mmɔborɔhunu mmua.
Momma saa nhyiam yi nhyɛ aseɛ wɔ nkaeɛ, nkabom, obu, ne asomdwoe mu. Akwaaba. Momma yɛnhyɛ aseɛ.
We call upon the living memory and enduring presence of our beloved ones—those who walk with us today and those who have gone before us.
May their legacy grow within us as a lasting harvest of love, giving us strength in hardship and hope in sorrow.
When we face anger or opposition, may we answer not with resentment, but with generosity, forgiveness, and mercy.
May this gathering begin in a spirit of remembrance, strength, community, respect, and peace. Akwaaba! Let us begin.
-Tete Cobblah is Founder and Director of Witness Tree Institute of Ghana