[By Nishat Parvez]
Last Friday, I was eagerly anticipating a three-day weekend, filled with plans and excitement. However, my mind was also occupied with concern for my family back in Bangladesh, where an anti-quota protest had escalated into an anti-government demonstration. Balancing my thoughts, I carefully descended the stairs while booking a Bolt ride home. In a split second, I lost my footing, and my legs went numb as I tumbled down.
Three minutes later, my internship colleagues rushed to my aid. Within ten minutes, they had me on my way to a nearby clinic. After enduring three hours in the waiting room, a doctor diagnosed me with a sprained ankle. As the realization set in, my first question was whether I could still travel the next day. The doctor advised me to take my medications, use a walking stick, and move with caution. Any reckless movement could prolong the healing process.
Our professor, Dr. S. Senyo Ofori-Parku, reassured me, promising to find a walking stick as soon as possible. Despite the pain that night, my enthusiasm to visit the town of Ada Foah the next day remained undiminished. The following morning, before our departure, Senyo and our guide Sonny embarked on a mission to find a walking stick. Their success meant I could proceed with my plans, albeit with a bit of support.
Walking with a stick and relying on others to move or board the bus felt strange. Nevertheless, we set off on our adventure. Our first stop was the Nkyimkyim Museum, inspired by Ghanaian artist Kwame Akoto-Bamfo. The museum’s website describes it as an experience designed to guide visitors towards healing and restorative justice, addressing the legacies of African enslavement and colonialism. The serene passage through the bamboo garden, baobab and neem trees offered a soothing environment that contributed to my healing.
In the meantime, Senyo arranged for a palanquin-type cart and a cart bearer to ensure I wouldn’t have to walk and risk further injury to my ankle. The cart reminded me of a rickshaw from home, where a person pulls a tricycle to transport people and goods. Initially, I was reluctant to use the cart, feeling it was inhumane to require the cart driver to expend his energy to carry me around. However, my cohort members persuaded me that using the cart was the best option for my leg at that time. Considering my upcoming departure to the States, it was crucial to prioritize healing and ensure a swift recovery.
Named after the Akan Adinkra symbol meaning “twisted and intertwined,” the museum features three statues near its nameplate. These statues symbolize Ghanaian Adinkra symbols, connecting people to their ancestral stories. The Sudano-Sahelian architectural monument, built using modern materials and engraved with Adinkra and Kemet symbols, tells a profound story. The Obelisk, erected in 2019, is adorned with footprints in various directions, symbolizing the different paths individuals take in life. It also features representations of bravery, hard work, productivity, wisdom, and balance. Additionally, a two-headed statue designed by Kenyan artists and placed upside down pays homage to civilization.
The museum, the largest open-air museum in Ghana, is home to beautifully crafted sculptures. The most significant among them are the heads in the ground, created by Bamfo to honor the memory of Africans enslaved during the transatlantic slave trades. These sculptures capture expressions of shock, pain, fear, desperation, and despair, telling the harrowing stories of enslaved Africans. Known as the Sacred Grounds, these areas are dedicated to preserving African history and honoring the victims of the enslavement trade. The life-sized ancestral heads, made from concrete, terracotta, and clay, vividly depict the pain and suffering endured by these individuals.
The museum also includes exhibits that connect African heritage to contemporary contexts, such as the plight of George Floyd. This acknowledgment underscores the ongoing struggles of Black communities worldwide.
As the tour reached its conclusion, we were invited to ring a bell, a symbolic gesture allowing visitors to reflect on their experience and make a heartfelt wish. This moment of introspection offered a chance to acknowledge the profound impact of the journey through history and art. As I grasped the bell, I closed my eyes and made a wish, hoping that the souls of all those who had endured the horrors of enslavement around the world would find peace and empowerment. My wish was for their spirits to rest in power, honored and remembered for their resilience and strength in the face of unimaginable brutality.
Despite the unexpected challenge of a sprained ankle, the weekend gateway turned into a profound journey of discovery, reflection, and healing.
Medasse,
Afia (My Ghanian Name)