The Ntonso Experience

Today we are going to Ntonso Village, about an hour from our hotel in Kumasi.  Ashley packs a backpack and says, “Let’s just take one.  We can share mine”.  This is her home-turf and she feels a sense of responsibility for us. We head downstairs for breakfast.

We have the time today and so we plan to take a TroTro; a small van used for public transportation. It is more fun than taking a taxi.

We walk the three miles to Kejetia (pronounced Catch-a-tia) Market to find our tro-tro.  This market houses thousands of vendors. It is widely advertised in the travel books and websites as the largest open-air market in Africa and a great place to buy crafts: Kente and Batik fabric, find a seamstress, buy fruits and vegetables, trinkets and a myriad of things that traveling vacationers or local Ghanaians might want to purchase.

Ashley warns to not bring anything of value here as there are many opportunists looking for a vulnerable traveller.  I concede we might look like a good target and so Janyn and I use our pockets for our IPhones and money; cargo shorts come in so handy.  She securely fastened her pack in front of her as we move through the crowd and toward the buses. 

It is interesting to read travel books.  I've learned that one must leave expectations behind and that most of what is described is left to interpretation whether it be food, tours, sightseeing or just the culture in general.  It is likely that many would not enjoy the experiences that I have loved.  And, many would love Kejetia.  I have no interest in this market other than to find a bus to Ntonso. Although I felt very safe, I took no pictures of Kejetia Market, but picked one off the internet.

Kejetia is not my thing.  I’m not a shopper, but will buy when given an experience.  I had an experience when I went to the bead factory and another when we drummed at the Cultural Arts Center. Today we are seeking an experience in Ntonso.  I like stories that go with my souvenirs. Otherwise, they are things that sit on shelves that I must dust. I have found Ghanaians are better at providing an experience than most countries I've visited.

We quickly find a bus and board waiting for every seat to be filled.  It fills quite fast.  We are in the back and seated next to women who want to get to know us.  They are curious. I wish I had asked to take their picture. Only one of the women knows English so there is some translation going on between them.

Ashley speaks Twi, but Janyn and I only know a few words.  When I say, “me din de Ama” they laugh. (Ama is my Ghanaian name as I was born on a Saturday).  I find that Ghanaians are happy when they learn we know something about their language.  

The women want to know where we are from and what it is like in the United States.  We talk about traffic.  Ghana rivals the traffic in Los Angeles. We talk about food and our experience with their cuisine.  We talk about work and what we are doing here. We talk about their commute. Just normal conversation among people who live polar different lifestyles. This is what riding public transportation is about.  It is learning the culture, meeting the people and being part of everyday mundane activities of daily life.  By the time we arrive we have become fast friends.

The women point to the side of the road.  “Get out here!”.  The van stops and the door opens.  We climb over several passengers working ourselves out of the van before walking up a dirt road.

Ntonso is a place where Kente Cloth is made.  In addition, the Ashanti People also do Adrinkra Stamping in this village.  This is the reason we have come.   As we approach the building we see a familiar word, “Akwaaba”, meaning “welcome”.

There is cloth everywhere.  Hanging outside as well as an entire room filled with various clothes.  We must use our IPhone flashlights when inside as there is no electricity.  I am so happy we found this place.  Two men greet us and give us a tour of the ink stamping process.  The Ashanti people make dye using the bark from the Badie Tree.  The pieces of fibrous bark are soaked in water for 24 hours before being pounded into a mortar.  Pounding takes about three hours.

I have noticed that pounding things with big sticks is a theme in this country. They pound fufu, tree bark and glass. 

Janyn makes an attempt at using the bamboo to crush some of the bark, remarking “I don’t have to eat it”, a reference to last night’s fufu dinner.  If you listen to the video carefully, you will hear him calling us "mommy".  This is common in Ghana - another mystery, but I have a theory.  I think it's what they call "older women".

Once this process is complete the mortar is poured into a pot and boiled for four hours.  It is then strained and boiled again for another four hours before it is ready to be used.

The stamps are carved symbols.  Each symbol has a meaning and when placed together they tell a story.   In the "olden times" they used cassava to carve their stamps, however, they did not last long.  They now use calabash to create stamps.  He said they last 18 years.  Then he said the stamps on the table were 25 years old. I'm not quite sure where these numbers come from. Time seems to have little meaning in Ghana. I quietly let this go and concede calabash stamps last far longer than cassava stamps.  This makes sense.

Just beyond the stamping area were men weaving Kente Cloth.  We watch them as they weave the bundles of thread with precision.  At one point Ashley sat down and attempted to weave, finding it quite difficult.

We decide to purchase cloth and stamp our stories onto it.  There is so many pieces to choose from that it is overwhelming  They even have Kente woven into an Obama Portrait.  It's an amusing novelty and I quickly decide against that piece.

I chose two clothes.  One for me and one for a friend.  Then I stamped them.

Janyn chose two as well.

Then Ashley decided to take her dress off (wrapping herself in Kente) and stamp her dress.  This was fun!

I had taken the before picture of Ashley in her dress at breakfast.  And now, here is the after picture as well as a few other pieces drying in the sun.

We spent considerable time there and made a few purchases and were "dashed" others.  A dash is something that is an additional item given as a bonus for the purchase.  

They walked us out to the highway to catch a ride back to Kumasi.  We purchased a couple of bags of water.  Water is sold everywhere on the street. Women carry large buckets of cold water on their heads.  I bite the corner of the bag and quickly drink it, while doing what everyone else does with the empty bag.  There are thousands of discarded empty bags on the streets of Ghana.

The men flag a taxi for us.  But it's not a real taxi, its a line taxi.  This is a mystery.  A line taxi is a taxi that travels straight through to a single destination at quite a distance.  The fare is the same as a bus.  If this were a real taxi, the fare would probably be at least GHS 150, but since it's a line taxi, the fare is only about GHS 5 per person.  There is nothing marked to say it's a line taxi.  It looks exactly like a taxi. I'm not sure how one distinguishes the line taxi from a regular taxi. Like I said, it's a mystery.

We get off in Kamasi and stop to buy a coconut on the street.

Our next stop is one of two museums we visited in Kumasi to learn about the Ashanti people and their king and queen.