By Cathy Hird
Tomorrow we fly to Burkina Faso in West Africa. This is a country we have not been to before, but we will meet up with our daughter for the wedding of a family friend. The visit will provide an enriching experience of a deep and complex African culture.
It is intriguing throughout Africa to see the way modern and tribal identities interact. On this trip, we will be part of a village wedding and a church one. The traditions of western family and friends will join with Burkinabe to make this a complex and joyous celebration.
One of the experiences I am looking forward to is shopping for cloth. West African textiles are alive with colour and energy. Again there are traditional and modern patterns, traditional and modern methods of creation. Some is printed locally using wax; some is printed in Holland. The narrow scarves called "kente" are still made with card looms and long strands of warp. I have seen men working in their yard or along the street making these strips, which are sown together for ceremonial garments and daily use.
Most clothes are made by tailors so the choice of cloth and design expresses the values and connections of the wearer. One of the traditions in Burkina Faso is that those close to the bride and groom dress in the same pattern of cloth. Another tradition is that each year, a pattern is designed to celebrate International Women's Day, and people have dresses and shirts made from this cloth. The clothes are worn long after making March 8th an important day in their calendar.
Another experience I anticipate with more solemnity is the encounter with the history of colonialism. Throughout Africa, European powers parceled up the land ignoring traditional tribal boundaries. People of several language groups were thrown together into one country, while borders were drawn between close families. Colonial values and culture caused chaos. The signs of disruption left by colonialism remain.
One of the most disturbing aspects of colonial intervention in West Africa was the trans-Atlantic slave trade. We forget that there were slaves in Canada as well as in the United States and the Caribbean. The memory of that history runs deep in Africa.
In Ghana two years ago, we visited one of the forts where people were held to be sold as slaves and then shipped across the Middle Passage to work the plantations. When I come back from this trip, I am sure I will have reflections to share, but for now let me offer a poem I wrote after visiting that fort known as Cape Coast Castle.
Cape Coast Castle
Our daughter pulls us to this fort
"You need to see the place
to understand."
Guide directs us to a narrow chamber
"I close the light and door
You taste the dark and know."
In the solid black I shiver.
Though I smell the sweat of fear
this is nothing like the shackling of a man
to fifty like him, shoved
into this dungeon
to die.
We slip out to a courtyard
glimpse the sun
descend to caverns under
the church where white people prayed.
A thousand men held here
one window to the sea
a spy hole into each dank chamber
where men bled fear.
Women held apart, nearer the wall
a higher, brighter space,
same shackled fate.
These cells now hold one bat,
old chain marks in the stone
and wreaths
to remember the dead, the taken
reminders for white tourists
heirs of those who sold human bodies,
heedless of their souls
the ones with whips
who shipped once free people
across the Middle Passage
through the Door of No Return.
Cathy Hird is a writer, minister and farmer living near Walter's Falls.
