Anticipation

(Mabel Dove-Danquah Ghana)

NANA ADAKU II, Omanhene of Akwasin, was celebrating the twentieth anniversary of
his accession to the stool of Akwasin. The capital, Nkwabi, was thronged with people from the
outlying towns and villages.
It was at the night on the cocoa season, money was circulating freely, and farmers were
spending to their hearts’ content. Friends who had not seen long time were renewing their
friendship. They called with gifts of gin, champagne, or whiskey, recalled old days with gusto and,
before departing, having imbided, were happy. Coast costumes. The men had tokota sandals on,
their feet, and rich multicolored velvet and gorgeous, hand woven, kente cloths nicely wrapped
round their bodies. The women with golden earrings dangling with golden chains and bracelets,
looked dignified in their colorful native attire.
The state drums were beating paeans of joy. It was four o’clock in the afternoon and people
were walking to the park where the Odwira was to be staged. Enclosures of palm leaves decorated
the grounds.
The Omanhene arrived in a palanquin under a brightly patterned state umbrella, a golden
crown on his head, his kente studded with tiny golden beads, rows upon rows of golden necklaces
piled high on a chest. He wore bracelets of gold from the wrists right up to the elbows. He held in
his right hand a decorated elephant tail which he waved to his enthusiastic, cheering people. In
front of him sat his “soul”, a young boy of twelve, holding the sword of office.
After the Omanhene come the Adontehene, the next in importance. He was resplendent in
rich green and red velvet cloth; his headband was studded with golden bars. Other chiefs came one
after the other under the brightly colored state umbrellas. The procession was long. The crowd
raised cheers as each palanquin was lowered, and the drums went on beating resounding joys of
jubilation. The Omanhene look his seat on the dais with his elders. The District Commissioner,
Captain Hobbs, was near him; Sasa, the Jester, looked ludicrous in his motley pair of trousers and
his cap of monkey skin. He made faces of the Omanhene who could not laugh; it was against
custom for the great Chief to be moved to laughter in public.
The state park presented a scene of barbaric splendor. Chiefs and their retinue sat on native
stools under state umbrellas of diver’s colors. The golden linguist’ staves of offices gleamed in the
sunlight. The women, like tropical butterflies, looked charming in their multicolored brocaded silk,
kente, and velvet, and Odaku headdress, black and shiny, studded with long golden pins and slides.
Young men paraded he grounds, their flowing cloths trailing behind them, their silken plaited
headbands glittering in the sun. The drum beat on……
The women are going to perform the celebrated Adowa dance. The decorated calabashes
make rhythm. The women run a few steps, move slowly sideways and sways their shoulders. One
dancer looks particularly enchanting in her green, blue, and red square kente, moving with the
simple, charming, grace of a wild woodland creature. The Chief is stirred and throws a handful of
loose cash into the crowd of dancers. She smiles as the coins fall on her and tinkle to the ground.
There is a rush. She makes no sign but keeps on dancing.
The Omanhene turns to his head linguist.
“Who is that beautiful dancer?”
“I am sorry, I do not know her.”
“I must have her as a wife.”

Nana Adaku II was a fifty-five and he already had a forty wives, but a new beauty gave
him the same thrill as it did the man who is blessed - or cursed – with only one better –half. Desire
again burned fiercely in his veins; he was bored with his forty wives. He usually got so mixed up
among them that lately he kept calling them by the wrong names. His new wife cried bitterly when
he called her Oda, the name of an old, ugly wife.
“This dancer is totally different,” thought the chief, she will be a joy to the palace.” He
turned round to the linguist:
“I will pay one hundred pound for her.”
“She might already be married, Nana.”
“I shall pay the husband any money he demands.”
The linguist knew his Omanhene: When he desired a woman he usually had his way
“Get fifty pounds from the chief treasurer, find the relatives, give them the money and
when she is in my palace tonight I shall give her the balance of the fifty pounds. Give the linguist
staff to Kojo and begin your investigations now.”

Nana AdakuII was a fast worker. He was like men all over the world when they are stirred
by feminine charm, shapely leg, the flash of an eye, quiver of a nostril, the timbre of a voice, and
the male species become frenzy personified. Many men go through this sort of mania until they
reach their dosage. The cynics among them men with a little flattery, blend tolerance, and take fine
care not to become seriously entangled for life. Women, on the other hand, use quit a lot of
common sense; they are not particularly thrilled by the physical charms of a man; if his pockets
are heavy and his income sure, he is good matrimonial risk. But there is evolving a new type of
hardheaded modern woman who insist on the perfect lover as well as income and other necessaries,
or stay forever from the un-bliss of marriage.

By 6 p.m. Nana Adaku II was getting bored with the whole assembly and was very glad to
get into his palanquin. The state umbrella danced, the chief sat again in their palanquin, and the
crowd cheered wildly, the drums beat. Soon the shadows of evening fell and the enclosures of
palm leaves in the state park stood empty and deserted.

The Omanhene had taken his bath after dusk changed into a gold and green brocaded cloth.
Two male servants stood on either side and fanned him with large in his private sitting room. An
envelope containing fifty golden sovereigns was near him. He knew his linguist as a man of tact
and diplomacy and was sure that night would bring his wife to help him celebrate the anniversary
of his accession to the Akwasin Stool.
 He must have dozed. When he woke up the young woman was kneeling by his feet. He
raised her onto the settee.
“Were you pleased to come?”
“I was pleased to do Nana‘s bidding.”
“Good girl. What is your name?”
“Effua, my lord and master.”
“It is a beautiful woman, too. Here are fifty gold sovereigns, the balance of the
rage dowry. We will marry privately tonight and do the necessary custom afterward.”
Nana Adaku II is not the first man use the technique. Civilized, semi-civilized, and
primitive men all over the world have said the same thing in nearly the same words.
“I shall give the money to my mother,” said the sensible girl. “She is in the
corridor. May I?” the Chief nodded assent.
Effua returned.
“Nana, my mother and other relatives want to thank you for the hundred pounds.”
“There is no need, my beauty,” and he played with the ivory beads lying so snugly on
her bosom.

“They think you must have noticed some extraordinary charm in me for you to have spent
so much money,” she smiled shyly at the Omanhene.
“But, my dear, you are charming. Haven’t they eyes? “But, Nana, I cannot understand
myself.” “You cannot, you modest woman. Look at yourself in that mirror on there.”
The girl smiled mischievously, went to the mirror, looked at herself. She came back and
sat on the settee and leaned her head on his bosom.

“You are a lovely girl, Effua.” He caressed her shiny black hair, so artistically plaited.
“But my master, I have always been like this, haven’t I?
“I supposed so, beautiful, but only saw you today.”
“You only saw me today?” “Today.”
“Have you forgotten?” “Forgotten what, my love?”
“You paid fifty pounds…..and married me two years ago