Beyond Words
My African Women Speak teacher, Esi Sutherlad, invited my class, of four girls, to what she called a theatre festival. That’s kind of what it was. We drove to a village about three hours outside of Accra. It felt so good to get out of the city. The village was exactly what I had pictured in my head. There were small houses all lined up, lots of children running around, and goats roaming freely. However, the look of the village is the only thing that did not surprise me. The festival was in fact, a funeral for a woman who was a great story teller in the village. She was honored last night when members of the village told her favorite stories and sang her favorite songs. Though I did not understand the language, I understood the messages behind each story. The music was full of life, and each performer was dramatic and engaging. I did not expect to be so moved. Another unexpected event: I feasted with the village chief at his palace. Next came the actual funeral. After listening to some songs, I went into a small building. With out warning, I followed my teacher on the stage and found myself standing between the bodies of the two women in the village that had died. All I could do was take some deep breaths and listen to the mournful voices of the village. Though I did not understand the language, I could feel the sadness. It was in each voice, each pair of eyes, it permeated the room. So many emotions were felt throughout the night. I got home at 4:30am, I felt drained, and so lucky to have been welcomed into such an amazing culture.
