by Arthur Japin
Under the guidance of the priest we learned that the natural world around us is no different from the nature within ourselves. Mutual dependence is the basis of alliance. This was instilled in our minds by means of a game, during which each of us was blindfolded in turn. The one who could see had to guide the other through the forest, stepping cautiously at first and then faster and faster, until both were running fast. Thus the seeing guide learnt responsibility, and the blindfolded follower learnt to rely on his comrade. Eventually we were both able to run at full tilt, blind and elated, without even holding out our hands protectively. Trust is one of the senses.
The morning after our final visit to Twi we waited outside the city gate for six hours until the trade delegation from Elmina arrived. Although there were occasional scuffles, the mood was on the whole dignified and proud. The storytellers were replaced by the troubadours, who whiled away the lazy midday hours with recitations as old as our people. Each rhyme corresponds to a particular adinkra, a traditional pattern that symbolizes an adage that is sung to the child from the moment it can recognize the lines in its mother’s carrying cloth. I remember this one:
The nkónsónkónsón says: there is a chain
In life
In death
A chain of one people
One blood
We form new links
At birth
At death
Whosoever we are
The nkónsónkónsón is a symbol made up of kidney-shaped links, like two slightly dented eggs joined together, two bodies rolled into one. There is a chain.
Looking back I fancy that it was the nkónsónkónsón that graced my ceremonial dress that day, and that I traced its golden lines with my finger as I listened to the song. But I have no memory of this.
What I do remember is that the sun was well past its zenith when an earsplitting, alien salvo in the forest made the birds take flight in terror and signalled that our patience was to be rewarded at last.
2
Amongst my most private documents, I treasure the report written by Deputy Commissioner van Drunen, officer of the Dutch expedition to the king of Ashanti.
They knew the negroes would not carry more than sixty or at the most eighty pounds, yet orders were given for large palanquins to be constructed. And also the cases and chests, with a very few exceptions, were far too heavy. Some weighed more than four hundred pounds, so that the contents had to be repacked. Still the slaves can only be compelled to carry them by violent means and threats of harsh punishment. Not only that: the palanquins are too unwieldy to be conveyed across the dense jungle. The refusal of certain officers to accommodate themselves to the manner of travel most suited to the terrain has therefore necessitated clearing a path five foot wide from Elmina all the way to Kumasi. Add to this the lack of knowledge of the negro languages, and the immensity of the difficulties faced by such an expedition to the heartlands of Africa can easily be imagined.
On 13 September 1836 we embarked on the merchant ship Princess Marianne. The soldiers received instructions for the voyage, but questions as to the task awaiting us in Africa were left unanswered. Our mission remained strictly secret. After two days Captain A. Plug weighed anchor and set sail for the Dutch possessions on the West Coast of Africa. After calling at Santa Cruz on the island of Tenerife we proceeded without impediment on our voyage until the 26th of the following month, when we dropped anchor upon reaching the Fort of St. Antonio at Axim on the coast of Guinea. Five days later we sailed some little way eastward to the Fort of St. George d’Elmina, which has been in Dutch hands since 1637. There we disembarked and set foot on the Gold Coast.
Our embassy, headed by Royal Commissioner Major-General Jan Verveer, was too numerous to be lodged in the fort. We officers alone found accommodation in the Engineering Corps’ quarters. The privates were directed to the vast storage cellars, which have fallen into disuse since we are no longer licensed to send slaves to our South American colony of Suriname. The men complained about the lack of air, the stench and the chill in the clammy windowless dungeons, and were issued with two barrels of rum.
Fort Elmina has become run down since the ban on trade in West Africans. The financial loss incurred by the ban remains enormous. Although the minister of Colonies is at pains to recoup the loss by recruiting West Africans to serve in the East Indian army, in the first year no more than forty-four slaves were pressed into service. The task of our embassy is to establish a permanent recruitment depot for the provision of at least one thousand men annually.
A few days after disembarking, one of the native assistants was dispatched to the king of Ashanti to advise the sovereign of the embassy’s arrival and to request permission to enter his realm. By mid December both men had returned, accompanied by a caboceer, a sort of mayor, four ensigns and a band of armed men and slaves sent by the sovereign to serve as our escort. They brought the most satisfactory tidings and reported that His Highness hoped to see us in the following month.
On 7 January 1837, at eight o’clock in the morning, we departed from Fort Elmina. Major-General Verveer and myself were conveyed in palanquins each carried by four negroes. The secretary, a physician, the resident of Fort Axim, an official of the coastal administration and Welzing, a mulatto serving as interpreter for the native tongues, were conveyed in hammocks borne by two negroes. Thirty-six negroes were engaged for this purpose, while another 192 served for the conveyance of the goods, rations and other travelling necessities. A band of 380 slaves from the interior bearing gifts for the king of Ashanti had already been sent ahead. They would wait for us to join them in the vicinity of Kumasi.
Verveer’s palanquin was preceded by a petty officer with the banner at the head of our military brass band which numbered thirteen musicians attended by two negro servants. In his wake came the halberdier of Elmina, a brigade of sappers, the engineering corps, the laundry boys and lesser servants with a number of women, followed by the caboceer, four captains and a troupe of seventeen armed men who had been sent by the king of Ashanti to escort us. Our party thus numbered more than one thousand men.
Our journey started in a north-easterly direction across the salt plain, past the plantation of one master Simons, where we made a brief halt. The emissaries of the chiefs of Elmina, who had accompanied us thus far, took their leave here, wishing us success with our embassy in a land no regiment had ventured to enter until now.
From there we proceeded on our journey through bush territory, where we observed scattered fields planted with sugar cane and pineapple, and soon came upon the first settlement or crom, named Ameeäno. The population numbered about one hundred and twenty, mostly living in wretched huts made of straw smeared with clay and roofed with leaves of palm or banana. The band struck up as we approached, as they would do upon arrival at every settlement. They usually played our national anthem or some other patriotic tune.
We continued in a north-westerly direction to the settlement of Simmiën in the fertile valley where General Daendels used to own an estate. We were welcomed by the firing of guns. We made a halt to drink the pitchers of palm wine that were o fered to us, in return for which we gave some bottles of rum. Finding a large number of fallen trees on our path we were obliged to cover the distance to the settlement of Afatau on foot. Arriving there around one o’clock in the afternoon, we decided to set up camp for the night. Our three tents were pitched. Two of them served as accommodation for the officers, the third as a kitchen. As a rule we consumed our main meal, prepared by a skilled negro cook, at four or five o’clock. The evenings were spent listening to our musicians, who would play for a few hours in the open air. Sometimes, when it was worth our while, we visited private dwellings.
Reveille was sounded each day at dawn, at which time the bearers and servants were ready for departure. However, the slowness of certain officers in preparing themselves often prevented us from setting off at an early hour, which is imperative in these regions if the oppressive midday heat is to be avoided
. Sometimes we did not depart until ten o’clock.
On the second day we traversed a forest with tall trees. After two hours we arrived in the settlement of Sodo fer, where the local caboceer, surrounded by grandees and fetish priestesses, came forward to welcome us. They o fered us palm wine, and we gave them rum and Dutch pipes in return.
A long winding path led to the large settlement of Abakrampa, the seat of the Fanti kingdom. Our ceremonial entry, which took place at half past two, was unfortunately ruined by a heavy downpour. A band of armed men rushed forward to greet us, firing their muskets and singing war songs. The king of Fanti, a tall, handsome man aged about forty, awaited us at the far end of a clearing within the settlement. He was surrounded by dignitaries, all crowded together in the shade of enormous umbrellas held over their heads by slaves. We passed them one by one, starting with the lowest ranks. We greeted them all, but shook hands only with the king. To do so we had to side-step a huge fellow reeling off the titles, deeds and battle exploits of his master while brandishing a silver-hilted sword in front of our eyes. As it was still pouring with rain, the king invited us into his home. We were led down a narrow passage into a courtyard with four open rooms facing the centre, three feet above the ground. They were all clean and spacious. The earthen walls were whitewashed, the floor was sprinkled with red earth. A few negro stools and a leather armchair constituted the furniture. While we sat there the bu foon continued to leap about and shout at the top of his voice. His master seemed to find this amusing. Meanwhile our tents were pitched. There we received the king’s gift of two sheep, a pig, fifty yams and three pots of palm wine. After a series of tedious expressions of gratitude we sent the king two jerkins of silken chintz, bolts of brightly coloured cotton cloth, each 14 or 16 ell in length, some strings of coral, a few crocks of rum, tobacco and Dutch pipes.
The following day we left Abakrampa, which compared so favourably with other settlements by virtue of the neatness of the dwellings and the cleanliness of the eight hundred inhabitants. We passed the settlement of Akroofoo, where our arrival was once more celebrated with gunfire and where the women were especially welcoming. From there to Tuacua and Ed Jerri our route traversed several hills and the path had not been widened to make room for our palanquins, so that we did not reach the settlement of Paintry until four o’clock, after a most uncomfortable journey. We took to our cots early, but the rain persisted all through the night and the roar of lions, leopards and other wild animals in the vicinity of our tents alarmed us greatly.
The following day, 10 January, we reached Jan Comadie, residence of the king of Assim. Three hundred clamouring negroes milled around, firing their guns dangerously, while the population danced and sang to the beat of our brass band. His Highness was flanked by a fetish priest and priestess with painted torsos and surrounded by a troupe of slaves wearing multicoloured tunics covered in bells. He was presented with an East Indian silken chintz tunic, strings of beads, rum, tobacco and pipes, whereas all we received in return was one cabree or African goat, and eleven bunches of bananas. The aim of our visit was to dispel a rumour that a Dutch general had disembarked at Elmina with a large party of officers to eradicate the Assimers. It transpired that some of our own slaves, young Ashantis, had been spreading the rumour. This palaver lasted for some time and yet we returned to our tents without having resolved the situation. But hardly had we arrived there than the king came with the o fer of a recruit, whom we engaged in the service of King Willem against payment of two ounces of gold (eighty guilders). Here we had our first experience of the great difficulty in reaching agreement with these people on the value of our gold, because of their endless queries about the weight and quality.
That evening we invited His Highness for a glass of punch, in the hope of gaining his favour. He arrived with eight musicians playing drums, hollow elephants’ tusks or bu falo horns, and gourds filled with gravel. They wished to enter into a competition with our band! When it was over His Highness was moved to observe that, however pleasing his music had sounded to him previously, it no longer did so. He ordered his men to desist from playing.
The caboceer had a curious way of sharing the drink with his slave boys. They opened their mouths wide as if to shout, whereupon he took a sip of the punch and squirted it straight into their mouths from a considerable distance. His adroitness was such that it was clearly a common practice.
After the departure of the guests we missed a fine goblet from one of the travel cases. News of this was conveyed to the king. An hour later the glass was returned with the message that the miscreant had already received his punishment, consisting of cutting off both his ears.
The next morning found us on a rough track that had not been previously widened. Our progress was slow. The following day the route up to the river Curacio was fair, but when we had crossed to the other side we had to force our way through dense undergrowth. Before we could enter the settlement of Koochua we had to traverse a vast marshland and after fording yet another river we came upon the settlements of Abandu and Fusu. It was in this manner that our journey proceeded for days on end: through rivers teeming with highly dangerous creatures and across hills covered in tall guinea grass, which hampers passage and stifles the breath. At the settlement of Prasso we crossed the river of the same name in a canoe. Having arrived at the other side we entered Ashanti territory at last!
Our journey during the following days took us through a rolling landscape dotted with pools and a small, steep mountain, the only one we saw on our entire journey. The vegetation became progressively less pleasing.
In the settlement of Eduabin our sojourn was unfortunately protracted. First of all we received a messenger from the king of Ashanti, who welcomed us heartily into his territory and also brought instructions for the caboceer. The nature of those instructions soon became horribly clear. Not long after our arrival we saw a multitude of men and several women emerging from their dwellings. We then heard that the king of Kokofu, chief ruler in the realm of the Ashanti king, had died. “His tree has fallen,” is the local expression. The fleeing women were his blood relatives. Within a few minutes two negroes appeared; they had leafy branches around their necks and carried large knives. They searched all the dwellings for slaves that had belonged to the deceased ruler, in order to slaughter them. We were informed that in Bipolsa, a previous settlement where our music had made a very good impression, some sixty men had already had their throats cut.
That same evening we observed how forty men were taken prisoner in order to be sacrificed in Kokofu during the funeral ceremony. At one o’clock in the night several Ashanti officials and courtiers came to tell us on behalf of His Highness that the demise of his highest-ranking subject necessitated his absenting himself from the capital Kumasi; he was due to attend the funeral ceremonies in Kokofu with his entire retinue as well as the full party of dignitaries who had travelled to the capital from all regions to witness the arrival of our embassy. His Highness requested us to remain where we were until further notice.
Messengers from the king came daily, bringing us palm wine and a sheep, and inquiring after our well-being. On 24 January, in the hope of persuading the king not to keep us waiting too long, we sent the halberdier of Elmina and our interpreter to Kokofu with gifts of one chest of loaf-sugar, one chest of wax candles, several pounds of tea and a small porcelain tea service. They returned with disheartening tidings: we were to remain in this wretched place for at least another ten days. On the 26th a hurricane known as Travados struck, with heavy thunderstorms, and we were obliged to abandon our tents and seek refuge in a house. To distract us from the violence of the elements, our palanquin bearers and porters from Elmina o fered us two serenades with dance, which lasted until late at night and attracted the participation of the local population.
On the 29th we were very pleasantly surprised. The king sent us a gift of six young women, all blood relatives of the king, with the notice that His Highness wished them to provide entertainment and con
solation for us officers, and thus to dispel the tedium of our stay in this place. Escorting the women was a great band of torchbearers, followed by one hundred and twenty slaves with bananas, twelve with yams and one with a pot of palm wine. The following day Verveer ordered our thanks to be conveyed to the king. On the 31st we again received six slaves laden with bananas, two ditto with palm nuts, five with beans, three with vegetables, as well as sheep and a pitcher of palm wine. On 1 February the king, believing his gift of women to have been prized by the officers, regaled us with three more of his blood relatives.
This was all very well, but on the 4th we sent an interpreter with the halberdier of Elmina to the king once more, with the urgent request to let us know once and for all on which day we might expect to make our entry in the capital.
That very afternoon we were visited by a cousin of the king, who was a grandee at court, with a large retinue. Their message was the following: that the king, his master, and the Ashantis in general, had the deepest respect for the king of Holland and His Majesty’s subjects; that they all, without exception, considered themselves his servants; that none of them had ever had occasion to meet a man of such distinction and high rank as the Royal Commissioner Major-General Jan Verveer with such a large party of ranking officers and men; that the king was doubly saddened by the loss of his blood relative because of the delay this caused to the embassy’s entry into Kumasi, which was all the more regrettable for the advent of the “evil days.” It seems that a superstition of the negroes forbids all work and consultation during these evil days in the firm belief that everything undertaken on those days will come to nothing. As a consequence, His Highness was prevented from receiving the foreign visitors.
