KOFI AKPABLI
Meanwhile, my walk in ?Wonderland? continued. Strolling through the various ?regions? of? Hessenpark I saw a bakery a tobacco house and a cheese store. At a farmstead droppings from various livestock have been put together. This adds to the smell of village life. The dung is used to fertilise crops. In fact, it is a mark of pride since the more one has the wealthier one is.?
In the kitchens I saw how common tasks such as cooking and food storage changed from food preparation over an open fireplace before the mid-19th century to the evolution of the wood-burning stove.? To save fruits they were dried.? Cow thighs and rings of sausage were hanged over the open fireplace to preserve.? Other food items were pickled in jars. Villagers baked their own bread. They also produced their own clothing. Many households thus had looms for textile production.
Bedrooms were quaint and cozy. But according to our guide sleep was not always an easy affair. In the era before chimneys, the kitchen smoke took over homes. Folks inhaled huge amounts of black smoke and at night lying in bed became a trauma. But science had not explained these things then and the people thought it was a ghost that was haunting their sleep. So they sat up on their bed all night long. The German word for nightmare albtraum is linked to this experience.
I came across a duck pond and a church cemetery. There were places for beekeeping, broom making and cane carving. I stopped by grazing sheep. These sheep are big and furry; white like those you see in Bible story pictures.? Loud strange shouts attracted me to the pig sty. They were bleating like no creature?s business. There were a dozen pigs all looking well-fed. I stood and watched whilst they ate, screamed to the heavens and basked themselves in the mud.
Within minutes there was silence. The pigs were all asleep. Strange. More strangely, I never thought that soon enough I would be having a personal encounter with one of them. An encounter of a very delicious sort.
The next chain of events happened all at once. We had reached the part of the Park which features a small but very old church. A group of visitors were hob-nobbing under a canopy. There was a lonely sheep feeding quietly on a fenced green hill. Suddenly, the silence of the afternoon was broken by a deep musical note. It came from a violin. This soon blended with the melody of a harmonica.
Mystery is solved as two players appeared and stood in front of the chapel. In their costume, they looked comical in a way that doesn?t make you laugh. ?But hey, this is Hessenpark. The song continued; now more definite as the two performers sat down. An almost perfect circle of onlookers closed in.
Then entered a couple looking like no two people you ever met in your life. ?The man, thirtyish, had a head like David Beckham?s on top of his neck. Man and woman both looked like peasants who had trekked rivers and mountains. They carried a variety of baskets at their back.
Every onlooker was entranced. Then the dialogue began. In German. Man holds out white linen. It seemed he wanted to sell it. Woman said nein, nein, nein. That is as much as I understood. For some strange reasons I didn?t want an interpretation. In any case, Ms. Yanina Seyam, my colleague from Belarus had told me that the Deutsche they were spitting is quite archaic.
Suddenly, the actors asked us to come along. We followed. To where, I didn?t know. For what, I had no idea. We continued walking in one large group- musicians, actors and a transplanted audience. The procession, marched through the forested estate passing by ancient landmarks. Then I heard a halting sound. Out of the blue, a man appeared dressed colourfully in military uniform. He went at the couple who are visibly shaken. It is an ambush!
Just like Robin Hood and his gang of Sherwood bandits, other men sprang from the bush with weapons. As we stood still not knowing what would happen next, a commanding figure appeared on the hill on the other side of the path. ??His jacket has red at the frills and sleeves. A revolver hanged at his waist. In my mind I named him Captain Hesse.
He reminded me of ?Fifteen men on a dead man?s chest?. From his high ground Captain Hesse looked down on us and barked out a speech. With a blue skyline behind him plus the angle of his brown sailor?s hat I thought it was impressive. But then at the captain?s feet a white bearded goat was chewing grass.
Then came his signal and our walk resumed. With actors, musicians, ancient traders, bandits and a mobile audience we now numbered about a hundred. Flanked by our captors we were shepherded into the heart of Hessenpark. ?Some of the players were in good spirit and chatted us up. Two asked to know where I came from.
?Ich Komme aus Ghana, aus Accra?. ?Then they asked again, seriously this time, could they walk from their village to my country? That was the point I realised that the role play I was witnessing was more serious than I had imagined.
We arrived at a large open air space with huge warehouse-like homes on both sides. We were ordered to sit on several garden benches. As soon as we settled the menu passed along. Cold drinks followed. Followed by bread. But this is not your modern pastry. It was crude and smelt like Fanti kenkey with a bold but tasteless sauce.
The whole atmosphere was an open air picnic. The supplies came from the big house on our far right. Strong German women dressed in 16th century frocks carried jugs of beers and bottles of wine to serve. They were also actresses complemented by the pirates who were moving about to keep folks in check.
More importantly, all around us episodes of the drama were played out.? One moment, high up at one window of the big house on our left, a guitarist appears to serenade us. ?The next moment, down on the other isle, a heated argument. ?The action shifted to my left as a farmhand sits and snores powerfully to the ground.
A little latter, two women at the far end of the table chattered on. One was braiding the other?s hair. Some men appeared there and next a sword fight- between woman and pirate. There was a big four-wheeled truck full of hay (In its heydays this must have been a four-wheel drive). ?Before long the drama extended there. A pirate and another lady dressed in white. The lady climbed and rested on the grass. The man followed. It went on and on. A seduction scene right by my side, oh God. The man drew his face nearer and nearer. At the stroke of a whisper the long anticipated kiss was aborted. Another argument. Man jumped out, woman chased after. Another round of drinks.
I heard Captain Hesse declare something: Catholic or Protestant everybody should get up. Well, we did; then started another procession. This one led to a different part of the estate. I saw a gorgeous windmill. I also saw the sun was about to set on this romantic setting, like it had set here century after century. We reached the entrance before I realise we were heading into a church. I saw the year 1801written above the old wooden door.
When I entered it was full so we were ushered upstairs. Looking down I could see that that the pirates had already taken up positions. From nowhere a bride and a groom were pushed to the altar. From the look of things the woman was more willing than the man. ?I saw two guns pointed at the groom.
He wasn?t the only unwilling participant in this forced wedding. The priest to do the blessing was hauled before the altar in ropes. His mouth was filled with a piece of cloth. Priest struggled but to no avail. The cloth was removed from his mouth and he started protesting vehemently. A gun to the neck calmed him completely. He was given a second chance to bless the marriage. He chose life.
From nowhere song sheets passed round. The church organ played a tune and we all sang along. Groom kissed bride, bride kissed groom and everyone was happy. The door was opened and we streamed out to a grand celebration. For certain reasons, the priest wasn?t a free man. I saw him gagged, his hands bound and virtually being dragged out. We were led back to where we sat. But before, we all had to greet the bridal party ahead of us. (The two newly-weds could never stop kissing).
More drinks came round. But the bigger thing was the delicious smell of dinner that has overwhelmed the entire space. Night was falling fast but I could see succulent, full-bodied pork rolling on an open air grill. Wunderbar. No one was in a hurry. Neither actors nor diners. ?Not even Captain Hesse or our bus driver who would be transporting us from this world into the cityscape of 21st century Frankfurt.
The writer is author of: Tickling the Ghanaian-Encounters with Contemporary Culture and A Sense of Savannah-Tales of a Friendly Walk through Northern Ghana
