Witchcraft in Northern Ghana

I think witchcraft is one of the most confusing and interesting aspects of Ghanaian culture, or even African culture for that matter. Although I think that each country has its own unique experience with witchcraft and Ghana is no exception. My introduction to Ghanaian witchcraft came from Help the Aged Canada, where I learned that HTAC was going to be facilitating a CIDA-funded project in one of the witch settlements in northern Ghana. When we arrived in Ghana, Jody and I realized that the proposal had not actually been approved and we wouldn’t actually be working with this marginalized group of older women. The situation as we learned it was that when someone fell sick in a village, an older woman would be accused of inflicting witchcraft on that individual. The accusation could even be made if someone experienced what we would think as bad luck but what Ghanaians see as some form of spiritual intervention, similar to a karmic vendetta. One such example was of an old woman who was begging a farmer for money. He refused her twice and then got bit by a snake on his farm later that day. She was accused of which craft because of this incident. Once a woman is accused she is sent from her village to a camp, which is mainly a settlement of other witches in a village that has taken these women under their wing.

So in order to learn more about the situation, Jody and I were compelled to visit the camps when we went to the north to listen to the stories of these women. Before leaving, I made contact with a Canadian whose number was left behind by last year’s HelpAge Ghana intern. He directed to a Ghanaian man working the CIFS office – funded by CIDA. When I arrived in the north I met with him, Charles Atia and he offered to bring me to a settlement of witches in Gushiegu later that week. The settlement was being supported by a Canadian who was helping fund a housing project for the women. We were interested in getting a range of perspectives about this interesting issue so we decided to visit the Gambaga settlement on Friday of that week and then I would go to Gushiegu with Charles on Saturday.

On Friday we set out to the Gambaga settlement, a bus ride from Wale Wale that took longer than expected down a very bumpy and dusty road. We arrived in Gambaga around 3:30 pm. The bus that dropped was heading to the next village and then would turn around and head back to Wale Wale, leaving us with 30-45 minutes maximum to get the information we wanted from the women. We were led to the chief’s son in the village who was the first to be able to speak English to us. He brought us to his father who were told would accept a libation from us in order to grant our permission into the camp. Once we paid our respects to the chief we were escorted to the camp and were able to speak with the leader. We ended up leaving with more questions than when we came. We were told a whole manner of things that confused us, like the women believed they were witches, some still practiced witchcraft, that as soon as they arrived at the settlement they were given an herbal remedy to cure them, that they couldn’t tell us how they came to the camp because it would reveal their secrets, etc. We were so turned around by conflicting narratives and what we believed were fabricated translations from the chief’s son. The two of us were exhausted by our late return to Tamale, but I was anxious to set out on the road the next morning to seek more answers in Gushiegu.

Jody left Saturday morning for Accra, so it was just Charles and I that headed out to Gushiegu at 6 am on Saturday morning. After getting lost in a thick brush and maze of thatch roofed villages, we arrived in Gushiegu three hours later. We were welcomed by a man, named Abukare who has been caring for the women and I guess acting as a contact for them to Charles. Immediately, I could sense that I would learn a lot more from these two men that I could from the chief’s son a day earlier. Abukare and I immediately started talking about the fate of the older women in the village, the social and cultural norms that precipitate their accusations and abandonment and a number of other issues related to the rights of rural women in general. I should also mention that this conversation was had over a nice groundnut soup with guinea fowl and rice. After we ate and chatted, I was brought to the women who had all congregated to speak with me. None of them could speak English so I started to ask questions through Charles and Abukare. The women were eager to show me their daily activity of separating grain from rocks that they had swept up from the marketplace. The technique was primitive and the grain they were actually able to keep was meager, but they were determined and hard-working. When I asked if any would share their stories, one piped up right away, unlike our odd response from the chief’s son in Gambaga. The vocal woman shared that she had been accused of witchcraft because someone in her village fell ill (who coincidentally happens to be strong and healthy now). Even her own children would not defend her and she was forced to relocate to Gushiegu. The women seem happy to be here however, because they fear facing their villages and what might happen to them if they try to return. There are some accounts of the women being beat to death when they try to return to their villages. This also sparked a discussion about the role that education plays in the rights of these women. If they were educated or had money and were accused of witchcraft they would be able to defend themselves against such accusations, but the fact is that many of these older women have neither of these tools in their defense.

Then Abukare, Charles and I drove out to the housing project to see the progress that was being made there. Charles asked if I would take pictures of the construction so he could send them back to Canada. As always, I had no problem with this as I am often on the right side of the camera lens for this job. The project was impressive and coming along well. The building stood on 5 acres of land and consisted of 8 houses with three rooms each. They were in the midst of building mud urinals between each of the buildings when we arrived. This meant that there were 24 rooms at the settlement and Abukare presented the challenge he was going to have filling them because there happened to be around 90 accused women scattered around Gushiegu. This roughly means 3-4 women a room. This happens to be the current arrangement for the women, but their current structures are damp, poorly constructed and vulnerable to collapse in natural disaster or spread diseases. I will not deny the challenges that Abukare will face when it comes time to separate them. The story of me and Gushiegu does not end here so stay tuned to hear more in the near future.

Checking in

I just wanted to report that all is well with me despite my lack of entries. Trust me it has nothing to do with not having anything to write about. Since I returned from the north I've had plenty of things to write about but always experience technical difficulties when it comes time to uploading them.

Things are very busy in Accra right now because of the African Cup of Nations, a fiery football competition that's as big as the World Cup. I was at the Ghana vs. Namibia game last week and hope to see many more in the weeks to come. So far, Cote D'Ivoire and defending champions Egypt are hopefuls to take the Cup this year. Although, if you ask any Ghanaian their response is fiercely patriotic and they say Ghana will take and has to take it hands down.

Anyway, please stay tuned for more upcoming blogs, some on the following subjects: Witchcraft in Northern Ghana, CAN 2008, Liberian Refugee Camp and hopefully a post to celebrate my 24th birthday!

Not that I'm counting or anything but I'm home in 5 weeks! Unbelievable. At this point in time, I'm looking forward to drinking "brewed" coffee, eating bacon and cheese, bra shopping and doing the crossword in the morning paper, the most when I get home. Hope my readers are happy and healthy.

The Great Dry North

Dusty roads, peaceful landscapes, strong dry winds and warm hearts. Nothing can describe the northern parts of Ghana more than these words. I suppose I could add that in my experience the north was also highlighted by hundreds of watermelons, dirty feet, broke down buses and close encounters with God’s creatures. On the 6^th of January, my colleague, Jody and I took a bus to Tamale, the capital of the northern region. One week later we arrived back in Accra exhausted, dirty, lathered in shea butter but ultimately happy. Apart from my dry skin and sore bottom from many uncomfortable bus rides, the north was good to us. We had an ambitious itinerary and by the grace of God were able to see everything we wanted to and more. Our adventure went as follows:

On Monday, we set out for Mole National Park. Our bus was supposed to leave at noon and so we arrived at the station at 11:30 am. Little did we know that the bus was completely unreliable and we didn’t end up leaving Tamale until 4:30 pm! The bus was packed with goods, mothers with babies on their backs, chickens and God only knows what else. So what should happen to us when we’re driving at full speed down the dirt road towards Larabanga? Yes, the driver hits a bump and we break the axle on the front wheel! Now we are stuck on a dirt road in the middle of Nowhere, Ghana. Everyone piles off the bus and we begin the long wait and hope for another bus to come save us. We happened to be traveling with two other Canadians that we met on the bus to Tamale the night before. We passed the time making peanut butter sandwiches and reading chapters from Things Fall Apart (a classic West African novel and an appropriate title under the circumstances). Some two hours later a second bus comes, after thinking that we would be spending the night there. We get to Larabanga and then take the village’s only taxi into the park. Of course, this couldn’t be a smooth ride either, the driver has to drive over a rock and pop a hole in his gas tank. When we arrived we tried to help him siphon what little gas he had left and then he took a bar of soap and shoved it up the hole. We arrived 12 hours after our journey at the station began and we were exhausted.

Tuesday morning we woke up for the 7:30 am safari walk and the rough trip into the park was definitely worth it once we began our early morning stroll. About five minutes in we had already seen our first of many elephants. The park was beautiful and mostly because it was extremely peaceful and being able to watch elephants bathe gracefully in the watering holes while others gathered around to drink was Creation at its best. The afternoon wasn’t entirely peaceful however, because our lookout was invaded by a group of olive baboons, one of which tried to slap me in the face. We spent the rest of the day relaxing in the peace and paid a short visit to one of the first mosques in Ghana in Larabanga, dated to 1421. Our trip to the village also brought us natural shea butter which our thirsty skin gladly accepted. We left Mole the next morning on a very early and uncomfortable 4 am bus. We spent most of Wednesday on the road, as we continued on to Bolgatanga after arriving back in Tamale.

On Thursday, we traveled even further north to Paga, along the Burkina Faso border where we experienced our own Crocodile Hunter adventure. If you can believe it, yours truly, straddled a crocodile and was petting its back! The crocodiles in Paga are said to be spiritual and can hear human voices. They even venture into people’s homes and are said to bring blessings. We also visited a slave camp on the outskirts of Paga, named Pikworo, that served as a stop for slaves coming from northern Ghana and Burkina Faso before heading to the slave market in Salaga. The rocky outcrop left eerie signs of habitation from slaves and their raiders. There were impressions made in the rocks where slaves were forced to carve out bowls to eat. There was even a rock that the slaves would play like a drum with smaller stones and we were able to listen to some men playing the natural instrument while singing songs from the days of the slave trade. Before leaving Paga, we drove to the Burkina Faso border to give Ghana’s neighbour a wave and then we headed back to Tamale.

Friday and Saturday were spent in less of a tourist fashion but ultimately rewarding and also confusing experience. I will share what we did on those days at a later date as I think they will need and deserve their own blog entry. For now you can enjoy the pictures and know that I am back safely in Accra from my northern Ghana experience.

Photos: Jody and the broke down bus; elephant!; standing in elephant tracks; getting friendly with a croc at Paga; bowls carved in rocks used by slaves at Pikworo