Efua Sutherland NEW LIFE AT KYEREFASO Shall we say Shall we put it this way Shall we say that the maid of Kyerefaso, Foruwa, daughter of the Queen Mother, was as a young deer, graceful in limb? Such was she, with head held high, eyes soft and wide with wonder. And she was light of foot, light in all her moving. Stepping springily along the water path like a deer that had strayed from the thicket, springily stepping along the water path, she was a picture to give the eye a feast. And nobody passed her by but turned to look at her again. Those of her village said that her voice in speech was like the murmur of a river quietly flowing beneath shadows of bamboo leaves. They said her smile would sometimes blossom like a lily on her lips and sometimes rise like sunrise. The butterflies do not fly away from the flowers, they draw near. Foruwa was the flower of her village. So shall we say, Shall we put it this way, that all the village butterflies, the men, tried to draw near her at every turn, crossed and crossed her path? Men said of her, 'She shall be my wife, and mine, and mine and mine.' But suns rose and set, moons silvered and died and as the days passed Foruwa grew more lovesome, yet she became no one's wife. She smiled at the butterflies and waved her hand lightly to greet them as she went swiftly about her daily work: 'Morning, Kweku Morning, Kwesi Morning, Kodwo' but that was all. And so they said, even while their hearts thumped for her: 'Proud!' Foruwa is proud...and very strange' And so the men when they gathered would say: 'There goes a strange girl. She is not just the stiff-in-the-neck proud, not just breasts-stuck-out I-am-the-only-girl-in-the-village proud. What kind of pride is hers?' The end of the year came round again, bringin the season of festivals. For the gathering in of corn, yams and cocoa ther were harvest celebrations. There were bride-meetings too. And it came to the time when the Asafo companies should hold their festival. The village was full of manly sounds, loud musketry and swelling choruses. The pathfinding, path-clearing ceremony came to an end. The Asafo marched on toward the Queen Mother's house, the women fussing round them, prancing round them, spreading their cloths in their way. 'Osee!' rang the cry. 'Osee!' to the manly men of old. They crouched like leopards upon the branches. Before the drums beat Before the danger drums beat, beware! Before the horns moaned Before the wailing horns moaned, beware! They were upright, they sprang. They sprang. They sprang upon the enemy. But now, blood no more! No more thundershot on thundershot. But still we are the leopards on the branches. We are those who roar and cannot be answered back. Beware, we are they who cannot be answered back. There was excitement outside the Queen Mother's courtyard gate. 'Gently, gently,' warned the Asafo leader. 'Here comes the Queen Mother. Spread skins of the gentle sheep in her way. Lightly, lightly walks our Mother Queen. Shower her with silver, Shower her with silver for she is peace.' And the Queen Mother stood there, tall, beautiful, before the men and there was silence. 'What news, what news do you bring?' she quietly asked. 'We come with dusty brows from our pathfinding, Mother. We come with tired, thorn-pricked feet. We come to bathe in the coolness of your peaceful stream. We come to offer our manliness to new life.' The Queen Mother stood there, tall and beautiful and quiet. Her fanbearers stood by her and all the women clustered near. One by one the men laid their guns at her feet and then she said: 'It is well. The gun is laid aside. The gun's rage is silenced in the stream. Let your weapons from now on be your minds and your hands' toil. 'Come maidens, women all, join the men in dance for they offer themselves to new life.' There was one girl who did not dance. 'What, Foruwa!' urged the Queen Mother. 'Will you not dance? The man are tired of parading in the ashes of their grandfathers' glorious deeds. That should make you smile. They are tired of the empty croak: "We are men, we are men." 'They are tired of sitting like vultures upon the rubbish heaps they have piled upon the half-built walls of their grandfathers. Smile, then. Foruwa, smile. 'Their brows shall now indeed be dusty, their feet thorn-pricked, and "I love my land" shall cease to be the empty croaking of a vulture upon the rubbish heap. Dance, Foruwa, dance!' Foruwa opened her lips and this was all she said: 'Mother, i do not find him here.' 'Who? Who do you not find here?' 'He with whom this new life shall be built. He is not here, Mother. These men's faces are empty; there is nothing in them, nothing at all.' 'Alas, Foruwa, alas, alas! What will become of you, my daughter?' 'The day I find him, Mother, the day I find the man, I shall come running to you, and your worries will come to an end.' 'But Foruwa, Foruwa,' argued the Queen Mother, although in her heart she understood her daughter, 'five years ago your rites were fulfilled. Where is the child of your womb? Your friend Maanan married. Your friend Esi married. Both had their rites with you.' 'Yes, Mother, they married and see how their steps once lively now drag in the dust. The sparkle has died out of their eyes. Their husbands drink palm wine the day long under the mango trees, drink palm wine and push counters across the draughtboardsall the day, and are they not already looking for other wives? Mother, the man I say is not here.' This conversation had been overheard by one of the men and soon others heard what Foruwa had said. That evening there was heard a new song in the village. There was a woman long ago, Tell that maid, tell that maid, There was a woman long ago, She would not marry Kwesi, She would not marry Kwaw, She would not, would not, would not. One day she came home with hurrying feet, I've found the man, the man, the man, Tell that maid, tell that maid, Her man looked like a chief, Tell that maid, tell that maid, Her man looked like a chief, Most splendid to see, But he turned into a python, He turned into a python AND SWALLOWED HER UP. From that time onward there were some in the village who turned their backs on Foruwa when she passed. Shall we say Shall we put it this way Shall we say that a day came when Foruwa with hurrying feet came running to her mother? She burst through the courtyard gate; and there she stood in the courtyard, joy all over. And a stranger walked in after her and stood in the courtyard beside her, stood tall and strong as a pillar. Foruwa said to the astonished Queen Mother: 'Here he is, Mother, here is the man.' The Queen Mother took a slow look at the stranger standing there strong as a forest tree, and she said: 'You carry the light of wisdom on your face, my son. Greetings, you are welcome. But who are you, my son?' 'Greetings, Mother," replied the stranger quietly. 'I am a worker. My hands are all I have to offer your daughter, for they are all my riches. I have travelled to see how men work in other lands. I have that knowledge and my strength. That is all my story.' Shall we say, Shall we put it this way, strange as the story is, that Foruwa was given in marriage to the stranger. There was a rage in the village and many openly mocked saying, 'Now the proud ones eat the dust.' Shall we say, Shall we put it this way that soon, quite soon, the people of Kyerefaso began to take notice of the stranger in quite a different way. 'Who,' some said, 'is this who has come among us? He who mingles sweat and song, he for whom toil is joy and life is full and abundant?' 'See,' said others, 'what a harvest the land yields under his ceaseless care.' 'He has taken the earth and moulded it into bricks. See what a home he has built, how it graces the village where it stands.' 'Look at the craft of his fingers, baskets or kente, stool or mat, the man makes them all.' 'And our children swarm about him, gazing at him with wonder and delight.' Then it did not satisfy them any more to sit all day at their draughtboards under the mango trees. 'See what Foruwa's husband has done,' they declared. 'Shall the sons of the land not do the same?' And soon they began to seek out the stranger to talk with him. Soon they too were toiling, their fields began to yield as never before, and the women laboured joyfully to bring in the harvest. A new spirit stirred the village. As the carelessly built houses disappeared one by one, and new homes built after the fashion of the stranger's grew up, it seemed as if the village of Kyerefaso had been born afresh. The people themselves became more alive and a new pride possessed them. They were no longer just grabbing from the land what they desired for their stomachs' present hunger and for their present comfort. They were looking at the land with new eyes, feeling it in their blood, and thoughtfully building a permanent and beautiful place for themselves and their children. 'Osee!' It was festival-time again. 'Osee!' Blood no more. Our fathers found for us the paths. We are the roadmakers. They bought for us the land with their blood. We shall build it with our strength. We shall create it with our minds. Following the men were the women and children. On their heads they carried every kind of produce that the land had yielded and crafts that their fingers had created. Green plantains and yellow bananas were carried by the bunch in large white wooden trays. Garden eggs, tomatoes, red oil-palm nuts warmed by the sun were piled high in black earthen vessels. Oranges, yams, maize filled shining brass trays and golden calabashes. Here and there were children proudly carrying colourful mats, baskets and toys which they themselves had made. The Queen Mother watched the procession gathering on the new village playground now richly green from recent rains. She watched the people palpitating in a massive dance toward her where she stood with her fanbearers outside the royal house. She caught sight of Foruwa. Her load of charcoal in a large brass tray which she had adorned with red hibiscus danced with her body. Happiness filled the Queen Mother when she saw her daughter thus. Then she caught sight of Foruwa's husband. He was carrying a white lamb in his arms, and he was singin happily with the men. She looked on him with pride. The procession had approached the royal house. 'See!' rang the cry of the Asafo leader. 'See how the best in all the land stands. See how she stands waiting, our Queen Mother. Waiting to wash the dust from our brow in the coolness of her peaceful stream. Spread skins of the gentle sheep in her way, gently. Spread the yield of the land before her. Spread the craft of your hands before her, gently, gently. Lightly, lightly walks our Queen Mother, for she is peace.'