Most of the people who lived in my village when I was growing up were divided, generally speaking, into three categories. We were either farmers, fishermen, or goldsmiths. According to how far one lived from the coast, the fishermen usually lived in the villages along the coast and the farmers occupied the villages inland.
One could always tell an adult's occupation by knowing when that person was not working. According to the tradition of the elders, it was taboo for fishermen to fish on Tuesdays, and for farmers to go to the farm on Fridays. This system made it easy for families to get together with each other.
The rainy season was the life blood of our community, because all the activities necessary for survival depended on the rains. When the rains were late, the crops suffered, and when the rains refused to come, there was famine and total disaster. It was therefore expedient and prudent for families to have extra food in storage and available for the lean times.
Since there was no refrigeration, most foods were prepared for storage simply by drying and or smoking. Fishermen exchanged their catch for crops from the farmers in a simple barter system. This system worked well unless one of the partners got greedy or dishonest, then all hell broke loose and the system would break down.
These processes had kept the Ga people honest and trustworthy for many generations, to the extent that the integrity of a Ga had become legendary. This was true , according to my grandparents, until the Ga people met the Europeans on their beaches over two hundred years ago. The cultural exchange and contact challenged and modified some of our traditional ways and values.
A notable quality among the Ga people I grew up with was their pride, their self reliance and their willingness to share what they had, and a commitment to the wholeness, integrity, and welfare of all. It was said that a Ga would give you the clothes off his back if he found out that you needed it. People looked out for each other and were willing to share whatever they had. Not just neighbors, but even strangers were welcomed like family.
Among the Ga people it was said that there were no orphans nor strangers. No children were ever rejected and the whole village Was responsible for all young people. It took the whole village to raise a child and every grown woman was called a Mother and every grown man was called a Father. Gas lived like one big extended family. Children had no cousins; all cousins were brothers and sisters, and the young men and young women were uncles and aunts to all children.
All the people shared their wealth and all the villagers came to each others' aid to fish and to farm. When there was a task to be done, all the people came together to help and when one saw something to be done one went ahead and took care of it without any questions being asked.
Mutual respect, care, concern, and reciprocity were the major traditional characteristics of our community. As long as there was food, no one had to go hungry. However, even in such a community as ours, there occasionally appeared a selfish individual who, because of selfishness and egoism, did not live or abide by tradition.
My mother told me the story of such an individual. She began her story with the popular saying that if one does not like Kwe's mother then one should not eat her food...
One fine Tuesday, a fisherman called Abokobi visited his relations in our village. The walk from the coast to the village took some time, and when he arrived at the village, there was no one at home. All the villagers were in the fields preparing for the planting season. Generally the Ga people planted their staple foods such as cassava, yams of all kind, peanuts (groundnuts), okra, all sorts of hot peppers (Gas love hot peppers), spices, beans, and corn (maize) to mention just a few. There were peppers, yams and cassava drying outside on raised platforms when Akokobi arrived. These were some of the ingredients used for the daily meal. After days of thorough drying all these ingredients were ground on a grinding stone and then stored for use in the daily preparation of food. Therefore, it was very important for the drying process to be carefully monitored. The foods being dried had to be brought inside every night in order to keep them as dry as possible. This became the custom because on the Accra Plains, the clouds could quickly became dark without warning, and soon after the rains would come.
On this fine Tuesday, when it started raining Abokobi retreated into the house and waited for his relatives to return from the fields. He got hungry but did not find anything in the house to eat. He looked outside and saw the cassava being dried but did not have the common decency to bring them in from the rain.
Soon the relatives arrived and after the traditional exchange of greetings and news the family asked Abokobi if he brought the drying cassava in from the rain.
He had the audacity to attempt to defend his lack of concern and selfishness by reminding his relatives that he was a fisherman and not a farmer. The family asked him to hold on to that thought and they went inside and got some cassava flour from their stock and prepared their midday meal and ate the meal without inviting Abokobi to join as tradition demanded.
Angrily Abokobi got up to go without saying a word. As he left, the Matron of the family was heard saying to him, "Abokobi, now when you return home do not forget to tell the whole story. The fact that we did not invite you to eat as is our tradition is only one part of the story."
And so it has been since that fine Tuesday so long ago. When one is asked to tell the whole story, it means to tell the whole truth, for the Ga people strongly believe that "the truth does not need any embellishment; it can stand all on its own".
How true of the delightful loving Ga poeple. It was my privilidge to work in Tema in Kortu Gon between 1973-78. My days in Ghana with the Ga people were the happiest in my life.
Sadly one of the Saddest was this January when I learned of the death of Julie Nii-Moi. She was regarded as my sister. She was 12 years older but my wife and I brouight her to Scotland twice after we left and she saw our two daughters in their infancy. I was heartbroken to learn of her death as I was wondering why her annual Christmas card was late or lost in the post.
Hejawle hanye - Nunchaulekewahenshee
Not well spelt I know and I dont know why I was sent to Abetefi toi lean Akan Twi when I was to work in Kortu Gon but I was so glad so much of my life and praers have been spent with the Ga tribe.
Peter I felt I had to let my heart out to you as I feel I really did loose a sister in Julie Nii-Moi. You are so right in relating the truth about the very special Ga people.
Yours
Oburuni Kwabena Yeboah alias Miller Caldwell
Peter, I liked the story as it had a lot of information and such. But..I am sorry, but what is a GA people? Thank you so much for your reviews on my White Washed Stones. Will continute to read you as often as I can, Thanks again Peter. Samdavid1
Very nicely written. I enjoyed your story very much! (By the way, thank you for the kind review on one of my stories, it was sweet of you to take the time!)
This is a great story and the moral is one all people should practice. If only the world lived sharing like this and followed common sense traditions. This is an excellent write Peter and I thank you for sharing it.
Amor
Reviewed by Joseph Healey
7/17/2002
An enjoyable and provocative African story with a good teaching moral at the end.
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