Dzodze

• 30 people.
  
• 3 vans.
  
• 3 rooms.
  
• 4 chickens.
  
• Countless bottles of 100 proof liquor.
  

This was my weekend in Dzodze.


The whole adventure started when our CIEE group found out that our trip to visit the Queen Mother in the Eastern region had been canceled. This change of plans meant that our weekend was suddenly available. Unsure of what we would do with such short notice Grace and I went to our drumming class Thursday morning. It was there that we found out that our drumming trip to a festival in the Volta region still had openings.

After very little deliberation Grace and I ran up to add our names to the list. We asked about the details and we were told: 25 cedis, two nights, we’re staying with families, we’re going to see drumming. Oh and we are leaving at 2 o clock tomorrow.

Well alright then.

Friday came around and Grace and I headed to the pavilion where we drum at the music department. We had never seen the area so empty and the pavilion so bare. Usually there are a good 40 oburonis sitting with their drums between their legs trying to learn one of three songs from our instructor affectionately known as Johnson. Not Mr. Johnson, not prof. Johnson – just Johnson.

We waited around for an hour or so and eventually the rest of the trip members arrived and we were herded off campus and over to the “buses.” By buses they meant vans. Three vans that could hold approximately 13 people maximum. Luckily they were air conditioned because we were sitting awfully close to each other for three hours. Some fared better than others regarding leg room, I can safely say I had one of the better seats.

Two hours later I was beginning to believe this was one of the easiest trips I’d been on… and then… I saw the dirt road that never ends. Twisting, curving and marred by potholes we traversed the varied terrain and a little over an hour later arrived in the dark at our destination: Dzodze.

At this point everyone in the group was hungry, tired and wondering where we would be sleeping and when we would be eating. We blindly followed Johnson with backpacks thrown over our shoulders and a few drums in tow. Eventually we arrived at a housing compound where we were instructed to sit on the benches in the open-air lounge.

What we found out was this: Dzodze is Johnson’s home village, this is Johnson’s family house, and we will be sleeping here (in 3 rooms) and they will feed us.

Enter Apateshie.

Although I am sure I am slaughtering the spelling, it is incredibly important I explain Apateshie in order to explain this weekend. Apateshie is a local 100 proof liquor that is used to celebrate/welcome newcomers, bless the home, bless religious ceremonies, welcome people back home, send people away from home, and in all likelihood a whole host of other things…

So, the first thing Johnson did was welcome us with what? That’s right. Shots of Apateshie. I can’t say it was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted but it was certainly strong and not the first thing I wanted on a night when I had a somewhat empty stomach. However, watching one of my professors throw back multiple shots of 100 proof liquor as he blessed the house and welcomed us was well worth the unwanted alcohol.

Sleeping in three rooms was quite literally sleeping in the rooms. On the concrete ground we each laid out a blanket we brought (while others who neglected to heed the warning to bring bedding slept on the plain concrete) and tried to get comfortable. The heat/humidity was unreal the first night. As my Dad would say the “air felt close.” When I woke up I was already sweating and unbelievably ready for food. Unfortunately our breakfast was one slice of bread each.

I won’t linger on the food issues in my description but I will leave it at this: we did not eat enough on this trip… and oborunis get pretty stressed out when they’re hungry in case you were wondering.

Saturday was the day of the Palm Festival – the reason we came on the trip – and we were all excited to go and see the drumming we had been told so much about.

When we got to the festival there was not a whole lot of anything going on. Even though we were late we didn’t seem to be AS late as those running the festival. After 30 minutes or so the VIPs started to arrive in their cars. I am confused as to who was there, but it looked like some government officials and all the chiefs of the area had come to town.

After a few hours of listening to addresses in Ewe (a language no one in our group speaks except Johnson) the drumming and performances finally got going. During this time Johnson convinced a few of us to get up, walk across the open field serving as a stage and join the dancers… for all to see. Of course I was a part of said group. And don’t you worry the attendants of the festival were indeed entertained. For the rest of the day we would walk around town and people would start laughing, shouting oboruni and mimicking our pathetic attempts at traditional African dances. I did my best to do what looked like the chicken wing dance while I popped my butt out repeatedly… apparently I failed.

Just as the music was picking up – we left the festival. We went from the festival to Johnson’s brother’s house. Johnson’s brother is known as the Mobile Manager. This is because he was the manager of the town’s fill station, and is considered an important figure. Although he has been retired for years the people of the town still call him Mobile Manager (I can’t help but think of the Arrested Development: “Wow I’m Mr. Manager!” “Well we just say ‘Manager’ son…”.)

Now let me pause here because one thing I neglected to mention is the parade of children.
Throughout this whole adventure I had a child attached to both of my hands. Magnetically drawn to my sides these two children, who have no names to me, followed me about town for an entire day. And I was not alone. At least 20 out of the 30 oborunis in our group had two kids a piece…. Stranger children as I have come to call them.
Stanger children: Kids you don’t know, who don’t know you – who follow you simply because you’re a foreigner and they apparently have nothing else to do.

I digress…

After meeting Johnson’s brother we went home and had dinner (or lack thereof) and then promptly left the house again to go and meet the chief. I had never met a chief before… and when we emerged from the allies leading to his house I was surprised to find a man seated in his underwear. This scantily clad man addressed the oborunis about the festival and had an in depth conversation with Johnson in Ewe as Johnson presented him with the traditional gift of Schnapps (it has long been tradition in Ghana that when you meet a chief you are to bring him a bottle of “foreign” Schnapps). He then passed the torch to the man who had been sitting silently off to the
side…

The silent man turned out to be the chief. Captain underpants was just the sidekick.
After the chief delivered a brief history of the town and explained how it got its name we were informed that we had been granted permission to take pictures with the chief. And thus one of the most awkward pictures of my life was taken. How do you pose with a chief? Do you kneel? Do you smile? I did both… and I looked ridiculous – so I recommend a different tactic if you ever find yourself in my situation.

The next morning we awoke to banku for breakfast… banku is a sour corn dough that is served in doughy balls with stew… it’s an acquired taste… and sadly not one I have acquired quite yet. When we finished eating we moved out to the court yard where there was going to be “drumming for us.”

This turned out to be nothing like the drumming performance I expected but instead a traditional religious ceremony. To summarize this experience… there was incredible music, multiple priestesses, a woman possessed by one of the land gods, many shots of apateshie and the sacrificing of 4 chickens to appease the god…

It was definitely the first time I had ever seen anything like it.

When we returned home Sunday evening we showered for the first time in three days, made a massive dinner of vegetables and crawled into our beds full and happy – aware that we had successfully complete quite the adventure.

Oh Africa. You are full of surprises.