A Deer Hunting We Will Go

Dearest friends,
The following entry tells the story of my experience with the Deer Hunting Festival, Aboakyer, this past weekend. The deer hunting festival is one of Ghana’s most famous and brings people from all over Ghana as well as all over the world.

This morning I was thankful that the taxi was waiting at America House for me, making my favorite sound “Legon 1, Legon 1” meaning that as soon as I sat down the shared taxi would set off to campus. I stared out the window of the car imagining what this festival was going to be like, perhaps we’d get to help hunt the deer or maybe I’d get to witness native dances and songs. Considering that I had been waiting since the beginning of the semester for a festival, I couldn’t wait to get to Winneba.

I met up with Dana on campus and we headed down to Kaneshi Station to catch a tro-tro to Winneba. We arrived at the last stop to see a line of tro-tros along the road as well as a large dirt patch off the road filled with at least a hundred tro-tros going to different places. “OK, now the fun part of finding the Winneba tro begins,” I told myself. Dana and I walked along the road asking, “Winneba, Eye Hen” (Winneba, it is where?). Every person just pointed us to walk farther along the road, urging us to go to front. Eventually we reached the tro-tro in the front, which would drop us at Winneba junction, but it was empty. Anticipating that we might get a more full tro-tro inside the station, we ventured into the station itself. Walking among piles of refuse and over overflowing gutters, we got to the dirt patch that characterized tro-tro stations. Again we asked “Winneba, Eye Hen” and we were directed to a man under a tent that told us that the Winneba car was not yet here. So we walked back to the roadside and sat down in the now filling tro-tro headed to Winneba junction.

After about an hour, the mate shouts out Winneba junction and Dana and I alight. By the roadside are several shared taxis that will take us to Winneba for 40 pesuasas, says the Bradt guide. Spotting a taxi, we sat down and headed towards Winneba. Driving into the city we saw banner after banner with Aboakyer Festival in large letters, some with a deer and men hunting in the background. Loud music was blasting from every corner, and all the restaurants and hotels were festivally dressed with banners and streamers. Unfortunately, neither Dana nor I had brought the Bradt guide with us so I had written down some names of hotels and numbers. We asked the taxi to drop us near Sir Charles a very large hotel that we hoped would have space. We alighted at a junction and walked towards Sir Charles. A pleasant run-down hotel right on the beach, but unfortunately no one was at the reception to greet us or tell us if there was a room. There’s tons of other places, we told ourselves. Walking down to the Lagoon Lodge, a nice hotel the Bradt guide described as essentially “Budget, but beautiful”, we came across this very fancy hotel by the side of the lagoon that costed 30 cedis per night, well out of our range. Walking back towards Sir Charles, we wanted to check again at the reception. This time we met someone who told us, sorry it’s full. Walking along the roadside we began to get concerned as every hostel we stopped at was booked for the night. Frustrated and hot, we stopped at Halo Halo Drinking Spot to get some water and ran into a wonderful lady. She didn’t know a place for us to go but she hailed down a friend of hers that was a taxi driver and asked him to take us to a hotel of a friend of hers for one cedi. We stopped at that hotel, but it was also full. What then occurred was driving to every hotel, hostel, and motel in the area only to find they were full. We even pulled into one hotel that was half-completed. The whole front of the hotel was still under construction but there were a few rooms in the back that were finished, even this hotel was booked. Out of frustration we called back Lagoon Lodge, but even this was full. Crap!

Seeing our frustration the taxi driver noted that he knew the owner of Royal Beach and that it would probably be fine for us to sleep there. At that point sleeping on the beach sounded like a great option to ending this stupid hopeless chase. We arrived at Royal Beach and paid our three cedis at the gate to gain entrance. We were greeted by a dancing party of at least 20 men next to the bar. One interesting thing about this country is that a group of 20 dancing men is not strange to see, even if they seem to be almost grinding, it’s nothing sexual. Regardless, we grabbed ourselves a beer a sat on the beach, “At least we have somewhere to sleep”. We drank our beer and ventured into the ocean. This beach was aweful! Filled with trash and rocky on the bottom. We ventured cautiously over sharp rocks and occasionally were hit by either a diaper or a floating bra. Dana spotted a strange bungalow in the distance and we set out to go check it out. We crossed a lagoon and walked along the beach to this structure. We found a half completed structure with no walls and only the bottoms of the toilets. The left side was missing half the floor, but at least there was a roof. We looked at each other and decided, “It’s better than the beach itself”. This abandoned bungalow would be our home for the night.

Wanting to get setup before dark, we trekked back to where we had left our bags with two nice old men. Thankfully the bags were still there, so we grabbed them and they asked us, “Have you found a place to sleep?” And we responded, yes we have. Not wanting them to know where we were actually sleeping, we headed walked behind them towards the structure. In order to reach the bungalow we’d have to cross the lagoon with our bags. Putting them on top of our heads, we ventured into the chest deep lagoon, much to the amusement and confusion of the Ghanaian family on the shore. We trekked back across the beach and set up camp in our home for the night. We took our valuables out and buried them underground in plastic bags in the fear that armed robbers might come by at night. As it got dark, we set up pillows our of towels for ourselves and talked until we fell asleep. Barely an hour later, it started raining and only half of the bungalow had a roof that could sustain the rain. Dana woke up in a wet blanket, so we moved to the otherside of the bungalow and slept uncomfortably on the wooden floor.

The alarm went off, “Thank God”, I told myself. I had been rolling all night trying to stay comfortable on the hard wood floors. It was 5am and it was time to head to the actual festival which was starting at 6am. We awoke by moon light and crossed the cold lagoon with our bags. Changing by the bushes, we were ready to tackle the day, but really had no idea what was to come.

We walked out of the beach and followed the large group of people headed toward the center of town. Passing by goats along the way and a large pile of trash with both people and a cadre of pigs looking for valuables. Arriving in town, the streets were lined with people as if waiting for a parade. Suddenly, a group of 10 men marched by chanting, banging drums, and waving planks of wood and sticks. Another group marched by with their entire bodies painted in red. Another group of blue and white men and women walked by as the women in front held wooden swords and the men behind yellow planks and wooden deer antlers. This was the parade of people heading to the bush. Asking where to go, a small girl joined up with us to show us around. It seemed that most of the people were heading one direction so we decided to follow. Through the crowds lining the streets we walked through the town with the parading hunters. We asked our friend where they were going and she said to the Bush, so we decided we wanted to go to. We walked among a large group of individuals wearing red towards the mountains. This was the red team. For the Deer Hunting Festival there is a red group and a white group and every individual in the down is in one of the two groups based on family descent. We were following the hunters and members of the red group in pursuit of a Mountain way in the distance. Both the red group and white group send hunters into different parts of the bush to catch a live antelope. The first group to return with two live antelopes to the chief is pronounced the winner.
Most of the group stopped beside a large lake, that only a few were crossing. “Only men can go into the Bush, “ our friend told us. Wanting to get pictures and see the actual hunting, Dana and I agreed that I should still go. I gave her my backpack and all my valuables and ventured through the lake. At times it became deep and the mud below made you sink an additional two feet. Nearly falling several times, I leaned on the man next to me for support. Reaching the other side I realized that I had also left my sandals with Dana. Nonetheless, I walked with a group of men wearing red that were heading to the Bush. Walking over sea shells and mud without shoes was not comfortable, but I was excited as we inched closer and closer to the Bush. Suddenly, within a hundred yards of the bush I heard the loud beating of drums and whistling as a parade of over 400 people emerged from the woods. In the front was a man with a live antelope held in both of his hands. I stood to take pictures and was pulled into the excited mob. Marching and shouting with the other hunters, I was frequently smiled at and encouraged. “You are a real man,” some said, “Not many Obrunis come all the way to the bush” said others. Some took a more physical encouragement and took the red paint from their sweaty faces and wiped it on mine. By the time we came to the large lake again I was covered in red paint and sweating like crazy! Those on the other shore line saw we were arriving with the antelope and excited ran to the bank to meet us, realizing that we must hurry to meet the chief before the white group we ran the entire way through the lake and all the way back to the town. I broke off from the group trying to find Dana in this mob of over 2,500 people chanting and running. She wasn’t where I had left here and she unfortunately had my phone.

A friend I had made in the mob and I went around asking where the Obruni with red hair was. Most said she had left with the crowd. We ran from the very back of the line through marchers who laughed as they saw I was covered in paint from the Bush. As I stood on top of a large hill, I spotted her and sprinted towards her. The rest of the march back to the village we made together.

As we returned to the town of Winneba we paraded through the streets with the proudly held antelope in the front. It was an incredible feeling. Being pushed forward by this huge mob of excited dancing people that were chanting in Fante. I caught on with a couple of the chants and yelled as well. We marched through town as a mob for at least 30 minutes before we reached the Queen Mother’s house and then the chiefs house. As we marched toward the chief’s house, the chants became less powerful so I started loudly shouting the last chant “Yanim Soldja”. Hearing that an Obruni was chanting, people began responding “Kwasi Bruni” and the chant continued. As I continued the same chant I got closer and closer to the front until I was shouting the the entire procession and those in the front who could hear were responding.

All the kids in the crowd found this amusing, and ran up to the front to shout “Kwasi Bruni” when I shouted “Yanim Soldja”. As I continued chanting the group of kids grew to about 50 and we marched through the streets ahead of the group chanting on our own. The people along the streets seeing an Obruni leading kids and chanting were laughing and cheering me on. As we continued in the direction of the chief’s house and the ceremony for the Antelope/Deer, I was stopped by a TV station and a microphone was stuck in my face. “How are you enjoying the festival…What do you think of Ghana…How long have you been here…” I did my best to respond as I was sweating and was loosing my voice from shouting all morning.

After about half an hour of shouting at the top of my lungs leading these kids I was tired. My voice was gone, I had been running barefoot through the town for about 2 hours over rocky streets, and I was drenched with sweat. I waited for my wife (Dana)-she was my wife for the day just for simplicity and so I wouldn’t get so many marriage proposals and neither would she. When Dana arrived we sat, ate, and just relaxed to recover from what was an extremely crazy morning.

Best,
Ben