LONG LIVE THE DEAD !

zyxwvutsrqponmlkjih

Changing Funeral Celebrations in Asante, Ghana

MARLEEN DE WITTE

Aksanr
Academie Publishers
200!
 Table of Contents

Preface and Acknowledgements rx zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWV

lntroduction 1
A successful funeral 1
Funerals in Ghana 5
Anthropology and the study of death 8
Ethnographic context: Asante-Bekwai 13
An anthropologist in the field 17

1 Person and Death: Future Remembrance 23

Conflicting conceptions of death 23
The social person: living and dying as a career 36
Person, imagery, and memory 39 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfed

2 Family and Death: zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

'Abusua D1 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONML
Funu' 51
The abusua 52
A death in the family 59
The abusua and the modern family 71
The family performed 76
ISBN 90 5260 003 I

3 Community and Death: Attending Funerals 81

© 2001, Aksan t Academ ic P u b 1ish ers The hometown 82
A death in town 84
All rights reserved. Alternative communities 97
No part of this publication may be reproduced without permission of the publisher.
4 Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' 103
The growth of the funeral industry 103
Cover design: Jos Hendrix Services in the funeral industry 107
Lay-out: Hanneke Kossen Consumption, lifestyle and identity 126

Aksant Academie Publishers

Oudezijds Achterburgwal 185, 1012 DK Amsterdam, The Netherlands
 5 Chur ch an d Death : Christian Bur ial zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
133
Christianiry in Ghana 135
A Christian burial 139
Controlling funerals 151 To [oana, Nana, and Yaa Mansah

6 State and Death: Funeral Regulation 158

Historical background 158
Controlling funerals in contemporary Ghana 168
The national state 173 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Odupon kesee atutu, Oturnfuo Opoku Ware's burial 182

7 Concluding Remarks: Death and the Negotiation of Culture 186

Glossary 193
Notes 200
References 204
 Preface and Acknowledgements

In October 1995, after two years of studying anthropology, I travelled to Ghana to

do volunteer work. It was my first visit to Africa and I did not know much about the
continent. I remember the excitement I feit when I saw, from the aeroplane, people
walking on roads of red earth amidst green shrubs and fields, and brightly painted
buildings. Small roads that did not follow a structured pattern, but had resulted
from years of practical use by people tak.ing the most convenient way from A to B.
"u'o"r.a,Mr. i..o .. _._,,..._ zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Yet I saw Ghana without the sounds, the scents, the flavours, and the humid warrnrh
)Mnlft'..a~ Ma~ll~~I
that have become so familiar now. I also remember the crowd of black faces outside
<."IIH~tl'w~J,-,..S..t"t_~~ w ~, zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONML
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba
·&:>-•~
otntt. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
<,il!Cl' c,·a o.. ud YK"_,.. ,,-_..,
"-'-Anet ... , \In,·..,.""-·
the airport in nocturnal Accra and wondering how to find among thern the one face
IIIIOnw.llli a Hl!ITl!""'1 S.. .t C....,. Na. waiting for me and my friend. Those first impressions were the beginning of a love
-- . - ....... A<m. ~ .-.....-
1/'1.\.--·-IJPIIA,T-"""""'1 Aged 52 year.. for a country and its people, that have since then greatly influenced my studies and
~--·"-"1.-- ~ zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHG
my life and will continue to do so.
"'"""-ll r<.
...... -.~~Mc.
ltllO- C-,Muà ..... Vk-A,)c- · ISA. Mn. ~'-.\Mi~ T_.,aolt Mr:
lld\o-'IH/,«,,.. ,èJ zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
My sincere thanks go to the following people in Ghana. Joana Gyau adopted me

-------"--"'-..c:."
,__, .. ._.._,.1<--l<.Al>i)lo"--:o..i-O.-,',~-""·'C.~~-"'"'"'"'"-- ~-
,.,..., A Nlnlllk - Moiot Uyww"" ~ -lliT ~~ K.o..;.""""" S..,#; l(<M·lk>•w J,w,

----T-.it.11- . . . . .
k-'-"'--"""''·"-"'-·'l.>a,- lioä.l, -x..-i . - Jol>i. """""'-Adl.rw..,udt.>o,,,
k<to.f-A••i·No--Op,l11W-Scboct
...t'ftlotlld.,1-, ~-Nm.
~llî
as
She
her daughter during my first stay in Trede, an Asante village just south ofKumasi.
gave me the warmth of a family and guided me in the practicals of Asante cul-
ture. It was in Trede that I got struck by the importance of funerals in Asante social

1
tllllll' Nelt'lllitrMt NMl~V... K...-..., act_,......_ ,.A~ .,;,W,,:,.._ ,:,._MIÎ_
-"-"""".u.r ... -ai-••..,.._._._""'""'1 i.ortr,"(w.(""""" !Col\ H«-"""-.r• life and culture. When I returned to Ghana in July 1998 for seven months of field-
...,.,.,_~-~"............ _,_)_""""'1.Mo.~~-11·-
•"--•if'lmr.«_,.,.. .. C..,. No, r,....An1..-.-l._· ~l'<!ll"°" ~IJ'L\: work, I chose to stay in my mother's hometown, Bekwai. In Bekwai, I thank my
Mt.,.K."-"-,.._.-.,.,_,AN!l!!j,otM..._l-..i~~N:lC"~,._...,-...,..

-~ . . . . --·-""--0.r.ln.-. .-.".-. . . . . . ..,IN,I__

Clwte- i~- 4-·- lin< ~ ,w.,..i. ·r.i.r- 'l•l-(",ffi,' T-ah. Manot Va:.

ca....,_,_._ow--"-- .....
..... ~s..,,.~ 111,~ .u....._ ,Y<1"r..1. A1><M~-.~-9M<*'1.'oll ot~k-.-.1--. .
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
S,// ffu Co,lt•lli
AGNES NANA AKUA AFRIYIE ANKOBIAH
1
"-""'1>.lic'NyO. .... -Á-
9••11,;.,.
grandmother, N ana Akosua Agyapomaa, from whom I got my Asante name. I did
not stay with her, but her compound house was my home. In our daily conversa-
tions she has been my main teacher ofTwi and of Asante norms and values. I miss
her fafa with 'abereuia nkwan' (grandmother' s soup, palm nut soup with bush meat
and dried fish). With Nana Yaa Mansah, my second grandmother and bayerehemaa
('queen' of the yam traders), I enjoyed the fun of selling yams in the market. Almost
every Saturday I attended funerals with her. She taught me how to dress, how to
walk, how to greet, but most of all how to dance. It is to these three women that I
dedicate this book. Mentumi nka dea moaye ama me. Nyame nhyira mo (I have no
words to express what you have done for me. May God bless you). Nana Asiedu
Okofo II, kuntirehene and acting president of Bekwai Traditional Area at the time,
always welcomed me in his house to share his knowledge and wisdom with me.
Further I want to thank Mark Gyau, Maame Akyeampomaa, Atta Asare-Bediako,
Adwoa Augustina, 'Teacher' Kwame, and Papa Kwasi, WJfa Atta, Adoma, Maame
X Long Live the Dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

Dufie, Sister Ama, 'Soldier', Auntie Irene, Sister Monica, Martha, Kwasi, Alma
Mavis and Adwoa Mercy, Bekwai edwam bayerefoJ (the yam sellers of the Bekwai
marker), and all the people of Bekwai who ha.:e contributed to make me fee! at
home and who have shared with me their lives, their experiences, and most of all
their moments of grief. Outside Bekwai I received much support from Kodjo Senah Introduction
at the University of Ghana, Nana Annoh-Oprensern, shiawuhene of Obo-Kwahu,
and Nana Ampadu. Meda mo ase pii!
This book is not only the outcome of a long relationship with Ghana, but also the
culmination of six years of training in cultural anthropology. For me anthropology A successful funeral
is a fascination for people's actual cultural pracrices, for what happens at the grass-
roots, where hundreds of feet passing by make the grass fade away and small paths Everybody in Bekwai is wearing black on Tuesday morning October 27th, 1998.
appear, defying any imposed structure. To watch and to wonder so to say. This in- There must be ayie, a funeral, in town today. Nana, my grandmother, is the first to
terest has been nurrured by various people at the University of Amsterdam. I am tel1 me that 'Captain' s sister' has died. Agnes Ankobiah alias Akua Afriyie lived and
mosdy indebted to Birgit Meyer, who has been a source of inspiration and feedback worked as a teacher in Tema and her family in Bekwai heard the news by phone. She
for me not only during the process of research and writing, but also during earlier died unexpectedly in her sleep, one week ago, at the age of 52 years. Today the family
years of my studies. Her enthusiasm and continuous encouragement and confidence is celebrating nnauatuie da, weekday, in the family house at Roman Down. Nana
in my work have contributed to a large extend to what this book has become. It is a went to greet thern early this morning already, so I go with her friend Akyeam-
pleasure to share with her my passion for Ghana. My fascination with Asante funer- pomaa. I worry about my clothing, which is, though dark brown in colour, not a
als I have also been able to share with Sjaak van der Geest. His comments on earlier proper funeral dress, but Akyeampomaa assures me chat it is all right, since it is only
versions of some chapters have been very valuable and constructive. Much I have the week celebration, not the real funeral (ayie pa). I tie one ofNana's black head-
also learned from Johannes Fabian. Looking back, I realise that his rhoughts and scarves around my head and we set off to greet the family. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPON
theories on 'popular culture' have been a major guidance throughout my studies. I
would also like to thank Karin Barber for her careful reading of the manuscript and WEEK CELEBRATION
stimulating comments.
My close involvement in the Asante exhibition in the Kindermuseum/Tropen- The loud music indicates the house from afar. We enter the courtyard, where hired
museum in Amsterdam has provided a great environment to share my Ghana enthu- plastic chairs and canopies provide shady seating for all sympathisers. In the middle
siasm with colleagues and friends. It has also stimulated me to reflect more on the a large framed black-and-white portrait of Agnes in her thirties is exposed on a chair
representation of culture. In the Kindermuseum we try to have children experience covered with !ace. The sight of this healthy and beautiful young woman makes me
rather than just view another culture. The experience of culture involves all senses at fee! sad. A few women are wailing heartrendingly. Sisters, Akyeampomaa says. We
the same time. A museum, and this one in particular, can at least approach this by go round and greet everybody by shaking hands. Amidst all people in black or dark
linking the materiality of culture - objects - to stories, rhythrns, music, or dance. brown mourning cloth, sits the mother, dressed in white and staring straight ahead
My work there has made me realise all the more that a written text can never capture without shedding a tear. She is, like all parents who loose a child, not allowed to
the gestures, movements, colours, odeurs, flowing words, sounds, rhythms, tastes mourn her daughter.
and textures thar make up an Asante funeral. Akyeampomaa and I sit down and watch the nmoomkoro group perform their
People in my surroundings have in many ways supported me. I thank Erin van songs and dances. The dancer demonstrates her dancing skills by dancing towards
Broekhuisen, Irene de Bruin, Miriam Jillissen, Marlies Leijtens, Richard Nyaku, Agnes' portrait and several people press a yocc-cedis note on her forehead. The
Harriët Swanborn, Merlijn Trouw, and Frits de Witte for their various contributions. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
nnioomkoro alternates with highlife songs blasting from the big loud-speakers and
several short speeches and announcements. The master of ceremonies announces a
donation of schnapps and beer, the date of the funeral, and shows the blue-and-white
cloth the family has chosen for the thanksgiving service after the funeral. Everybody
who wishes can buy it and wear it that Sunday. Until the day of the funeral, almost
three weeks from now, Agnes' body wil! be kept in the 'fridge' in Tema.
2 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
A few days later funeral posters announcing Auntie Aggie's funeral appear in
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
town. Her full coloured portrait picture stands out between the usual black-and-
white pictures of other deceased persons and raises expectations about the oncoming
funeral. Several tailor shops in town are busy tailoring the blue-and-white thanks-
giving cloth into fancy dresses.
LAYING-IN-STATE
The burial and the funeral of Agnes Ankobiah take place on Saturday November
14th. When my other grandmother Yaa Mansah (Nana's half-sister by the same
father) and I arrive at the family house at six in the morning, it is already crowded.
We greet the mpaninfoJ, the elders, who are seated in the front row, and then go
round to greet the rest. Some people wear a black T-shirt with Agnes' portrait
printed on it. Agnes is laid in state in one of the rooms and the signs 'in' and 'out'
regulate the flow of people. The viewing room has been beautifully decorated with
!ace, plastic plants and flowers and colourful kente cloth. In a big shiny, golden bed
Agnes is lying in state like a bride. She wears a white wedding dress, white lace
gloves, lots of golden jewellery and beads, a wig and heavy make-up. Earlier this
morning the family has congregated around the body to pour libation and pray to
the ancestors. Now the Roman and the Anglican priests and a group of church-
women come in. We stand around the bed while the priest blesses the body and say
the Lord's Prayer and ten Hail Marys. The women start singing church songs from
the hymnbooks they have brought. Everything is recorded by one of the hired video
men, while his assistant Iets his bright lamp shine on Agnes' body. Now wailing
starts. Women walk around the dead body, lamenting on this terrible loss, address-
ing the deceased, and throwing their arms up into the air in despair.
Meanwhile at the courtyard a DJ Iets highlife hits and gospel songs blast from
huge loudspeakers. The music is interrupted by the presentation of the adesiedee, the
'burial things'. Blue-and-white cloth, boules ofDutch schnapps, white hankies with
money tied in one corner and a ring ried in ·the other corner, are being presented on
silver trays and announced to the public through the microphone. But more than
the things itself also the givers are being presented. Agnes will take the things with
her on her way to the world of the ancestors, so that she can buy some water during
the journey and share some of the presents with those who have taken the lead and
who are expecting something from their living relatives. All things are collected in a
big bag by the family, who will symbolically put a few items into the coffin and share
the rest among themselves.
The master of ceremonies announces the arrival of the coffin and seven men, one
of whom is Agnes' son, carry a classy gold painted coffin with golden decorations
and put it in the courtyard. Utterances of admiration. They say it is imported from
Europe. Behind a curtain Agnes is laid into the coffin. A man takes a sip of schnapps
into his mouth and sprays it over Agnes' face three times. A piece of blue-and-white
lntroduction 3
clorh is torn into strips, some of which are put into the coffin and some tied around
the wrists of family members, as a sign ofbereavement. Then rhey close the coffin.
BURIAL
Yaa Mansah takes me to her house for breakfasr, otherwise we will faint duringmass,
she says. When we come out on the street, we notice the crowd outside the family
house. There are many women in fancy dresses, wearing high heels and fashionable
head ties. There can be no doubt they are from Accra. They have parked their beau-
tiful cars right in front of the house. Big signposts have been placed all over town to
direct visitors to the house, the church, and the funeral grounds. On the way to
church some women distribute small, coloured portraits of Agnes to be pinned on
your cloth and colour printed funeral programmes with the 'highlights' of the
funeral, the programme of the burial mass, the biography of Agnes and the tributes
by brothers and sisters, children and friends thar will be read out in church, and
some pictures. People rush to get one of the glossy booklets.
After the burial mass in the Roman Catholic Church, more or less a standard
mass, followed by tributes in both Twi and English, we walk in procession to the
cemetery, singing. The coffin is transported in an army vehicle; Agnes' brother is a
captain in the army. The atmosphere is peaceful, solemn, almost holy. How differ-
ent from the chaotic, boisterous, even a little violent way to the cemetery of Yaa
Mansah's 29 year old nephew two days before. When he was buried people were
drunk, made all kinds of noise, started fighting and went out of their senses with
grief. Now there is nothing of rhis, Agnes' funeral passes orderly.
At the cemetery a woman urges me to take a picture of the empty grave, which is
cernenred and whitewashed, one more status symbol. When the coffin arrives and is
lowered into the grave, people cry quietly, totally different from the wailing this morn-
ing. A.fter some prayers the priest blesses the grave and drops the first scoop of earth
into it. Then he presents the wreaths and puts them onto the coffin. 'From mother',
'from father', 'from husband', we read on the printed notes attached to them.
FuNERAL RITES
The funeral celebration takes place that afternoon at the police headquarters'
grounds in the town centre. I go there withJoana and Nana. Nana doesn't like going
round the whole square to shake hands with everybody, but Joana, her daughter,
says this happens to be amammere, custom, and moreover, it is important to greet so
that everybody notices your presence. So we go round and greet and during this
many meetings take place, especially between Joana, who comes from Bekwai but
doesn't live here any longer, and old friends and acquaintances. The members of
Agnes' family are easily recognisable by the plain red mourning cloth rhey are all
wearing. The funeral is very well attended. All queen-mothers of Bekwai have come
4 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
PRESENTATION OF 'BURIAL THINGS'
AT THE COURT YARD DURING THE BURJAL CEREMONIES
Introduction 5
to pay their respects. People have travelled from all over Ghana to Bekwai to be pres-
ent. They sit together and chat; the atmosphere is one of a happy meeting again.
T ears and wailing are absent now.
A military brass band provides swinging music for people to dance. They take
turns with the drummers and singers of the nmoomkori group. A professional dancer
skillfully dan ces towards the chief, who praises her dancing skills, as do many others.
It is a beautiful piece of culture, people say. In between the music, a woman takes the
microphone to announce donations to the family by the guests. The names of the
givers and the amounts of money given are loudly made known to all zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedc
present.
Usually the donation one makes depends upon the drinks and the food being served.
The more one receives, the more one will give. But now no drinks are being served,
and no food, only water. The chief ofBekwai has recendy prohibited the serving of
drinks and food to suppress funeral expenses. But although drinks are lacking, the
whole funeral shows chat this family has money, and chat they do not hesitate spend-
ing it to give their beloved Agnes a befitting farewell.
Auntie Agnes' funeral was a successful one. There were lots of people, important
people too, and their donations were high. There was good music, performed by rwo
groups, and good dancing. In the morning plenty of tears were shed, locs of gifts
were presented and the coffin was outstandingly beautiful. Everything was very well
organised. Moreover, three video men had covered the whole celebration from min-
ute to minute. Indeed, as people kept on saying, yen u/ere mfi AkuaAfriyie da, we will
never forget Akua Afriyie. The family has clone well, abusuajoJ aye adee paa. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSR
Funerals in Ghana
Since my first stay in Ghana in 1995 I have been fascinated by the great importance
Asante attach to funerals. In the course of three subsequent stays in Asante I at-
tended more than fifty funeral celebrations.' Although every funeral was different
and that of Agnes Ankobiah was classier than average, the over-all image of most of
them was much like the one described above. In Ghana one sometimes gets the im-
pression chat people care more about their dead than about the living. The elaborate
funeral celebrations during which no trouble or expenses are spared contrast sharply
with the daily struggle for the primary necessities of life. People spend amazingly
much time and money on funerals. They are great public events, where families
compete for prestige and respect by showing off wealth and by publicly conforming
to norms of solidarity and respect for the dead. Weeks or even months and millions
of cedis' are spent in organising an event, which impresses everybody. A funeral,
more than a wedding or any other ceremony, should be grand and successful.
Every Saturday is funeral day. In every mid-sized town there are two or more
funerals. Hundreds of people come together to pay their last respects to a deceased
loved one, or to sympathise with a bereaved friend. People dress up and travel to visit
6 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
a funeral in another town or village. In turn, they expect the bereaved family to
entertain them with show, music, dance, drinks, and sometimes food. In the eve-
ning it can be hard to find transport back to town, when trotro's (minibuses for
public transport) are stuffed with funeral guests going home. And in Kumasi every
Saturday night people dressed in black and red funeral cloth flock together in Hotel
de Kingsway to end the day's funeral by dancing to the tunes of highlife music.
Funerals are at the heart of Asante culture and social life.
Asante funerals are also the terrain of great creativity, where diverse forms of
expression and art come together. Cultural groups perform traditional drum music
or songs; a funeral is the place to show your dancing skills; highlife musicians make
popular songs especially for funerals, commenting on the deep sorrow caused by
death; pieces of poetic oratory teil of the life of the deceased; portrait paintings and
sculptures are put on the grave; photographs are enlarged, framed and exhibited or
printed on T-shirts; video shots are taken and edited into a beautiful document;
people dress up in the latest funeral fashion; and sometimes parts of the life of the
deceased are acted out in theatre. Death, more than any other life event, seems to
inspire people to artistic creations. A funeral celebration is a big explosion oflife. I t is
an experience, which involves all senses. The music is so loud one cannot possibly
hear one's neighbour. Visibiliry, seeing and being seen, is the core of every funeral.
The abundant use of'schnapps', akpeteshi (local gin) and beer makes the air heavy
with alcohol. Shaking hundreds of hands gives a tactile impression of every person.
Visiting a funeral means immersing oneselfin an atmosphere loaded with emotions.
The importance and scale of funerals in Ghanaian - and specifically Asante -
society today strike many visitors to Ghana. But also in the olden days funeral cel-
ebrations have impressed and surprised foreign travellers and researchers. It is from
their descriptions that we can get an impression of what a funeral used to be like
before the advent of sound systems, mortuaries, video cameras, and the like.
'The whole time is spent in firing guns, drumming, dancing, and singing. The
widow sits beside the body, fanning away the flies, and sleeps beside ic when she is
exhausted. Everyone generally becomes very drunk, hut we should not pass a very
severe judgement on rhis account. [ ... ] these rites may seem to the uninstructed
somewhat heartless shows, as mirth and jollity are not altogether absent' (Rattray
1927: 151).
A contributor to The Gold Coast Review of 1925 comments on the Akirn-Abuakwa
(another Akan group) funeral custom,
'which plays such an important and, as many consider, undesirable part in the life
of the people. [ ... ] The body is washed, enveloped as far as the arm pits in fine
clorhs, and laid out on the bed. Personal property is conspicuously displayed. The
family group themselves about the body and friends come to view it. Burial is
Introduction zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQ
7
usually performed on the following day. The young men fire guns day and night,
play drums, and drink. Ordinarily this revelry lasts for four days and is the cause of
much drunkenness and debt, contracted by the relatives of the deceased, who bear
all the expenses' (Shaw I92f 62).
Documents like these show us that in the olden days the importance attached to
funeral ceremonies was also great. The basics underlying the cencrality of funerals in
Akan culture seem to have been rarher constant. So too does the delirious atrnos-
phere so often witnessed today. Descriptions of'revelry', 'drunkenness', 'jollity' and
'show' are recognised in modern day funeral celebrations. The scale of funerals,
however, seems to have been much smaller in the olden days and the form quite dif-
ferent. Many of the traditional practices have disappeared and many new customs
have been incroduced.
One could expect a traditional ritual, centred around the extended family and
around beliefs about death and ancestorship, to reduce in importance under the
influence of moderniry, including individualisation, urbanisation, market econo-
my, and Christianity. The opposite scenario is taking place in Ghana. Funerals are,
more than any ether ceremony, only gaining more and more in scale and impor-
tance. Technological innovations like mortuaries, mass media, and electronic appa-
ratus have enlarged possibilities and have given the funeral new dimensions. This
funeral expansion entails high expenses and gives rise to a hot debate in the media, in
the churches and among people themselves about the disproportionate cost of cur-
renc funeral practices. Also, there are attempts to curtail these, especially by Tradi-
tional Councils and churches, bur also by individuals. How funerals should be car-
ried out is much debated upon. After every death a whole process of discussions and
negotiations starts about what should be clone, where, how, and by whom. Things
that seem obvious suddenly become points of conflict. At many of the funerals I
attended, I heard disagreeing voices, sometimes outrighr quarrels.
Here we are dealing with a phenomenon which is, for most Asance themselves, at
the heart of their culture and tradition and which proves to be, at the same time, very
absorptive of new forms and practices. Also, it is a practice chat, in spite of its cul-
tural and social centrality, clearly has no fixed scenario, but needs constantly to be
negotiated. It is a phenomenon chat evokes much discussion and seems to ask for
regulation and curtailment. A phenomenon like this immediately calls a lot of ques-
tions to mind. Why are funerals so important? How does a funeral performance get
its particular form? Which parties are involved in 'shaping death'? How do they con-
tribute to the funeral performance? What is their agenda, their interest? What do
they want to express? What is their place in society? How is all this related to
social-historical and cultural developmenrs?
Fascinated by the funeral phenomenon, with a lot of questions in mind, and in
the conviction chat funerals offer a fruitful vancage point from which to view con-
temporary Ghanaian society (cf. Venbrux 1995), I wem back to Ghana in July 1998
to do seven month s of ant hro pological fieldwork in the Asant e region. This book
describes how Asant e in present-day Ghana shape and give m eaning to their fu neral
celebrations. It aim s at understanding cur rent tran sfo rm ations of fu neral practices
in a way that leaves ro om for creative int eraction and fo r the dynam ic natu re of
Ghan aian fu nerals. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Anthropology and the study of death
RITES OF PASSAGE
The large amount of time, effort, and money that people spend on funerals is by no
means unique for the Asante. The elaborate attention devoted to funeral rites by peo-
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
ples all over the globe has always occupied anthropologists. Many studies of death
rituals are inspired by a paradigm rooted in Van Gennep's analysis of rites zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
de passage
(1909) and elaborated by Turner. Van Gennep saw the death ritual as a symbolic rep-
resentation of the ambiguous, liminal status of the deceased during the transition
from life to an eternal existence after death. This ritual transition starts with the sepa-
ration of the deceased from earthly existence, after which s/he enters a phase of limi-
nality, being no Jonger of this world, but not yet fully of the other world, and ends
with the incorporation in the world of the dead. This tripartite analytica! scheme can
be widely applied and has therefore become an anthropological classic. Yet it cannot
provide much insight into the specific forms ofburying the dead, such as the exuber-
ance of Ghanaian funerals. Why should the transition to an existence after death be
marked by vitaliry, and not, as is the case in most Western societies, by concealment
and modesty? And what to make of the video men, the portrait pictures, the newly
bought thanksgiving cloth, the glossy funeral programme and the golden coffin we
saw at Agnes Ankobiah's funeral? How to understand the libation to the ancestors
prior to the Christian prayers, and the prohibition of serving soft drinks? And why
was this particular funeral considered such a successful one?
Several studies in the anthropology of death (Metcalf & Huntington 1991; Bloch
and Parry 1982) show that funerals, more than other rites de passage, are closely
related to life values, symbolically as well as sociologically. Rather than beliefs about
death and about life after death, it is the ideas and attitudes people have towards life
chat may help us explain why Asante funerals are as grand and elaborate as they are.
During the funeral celebrations the focus is mainly on life on earth, more on the
continuiry of the living than the continuity of the dead. Metcalf and Huntington
(1991: no) state that the emphasis on life and vitality may be a universa! aspect of
funeral celebrations. For thern the relevance of Van Cennep's tripartite scheme is
the 'creative way in which ic can be combined with cultural values to grasp the con-
ceptual vicalicy of each ritual' (ibid.: 112). Bloch and Parry, primarily interested in
the symbolism of sexualicy and ferriliry in mortuary rituals in relation to the organi-
sational aspects of society, take as a starting point chat mortuary practices reflect not
so much a 'society' responding to the 'sacrilege' of death, but are themselves occa-
sions for creatingthat 'society' (1982: 6). With a focus on cultural values of!ife and
the idea of creating society we can look at Asante death rituals as a creative process
rather than a series of strictly prescribed symbolic actions.
This is what Turner (1969) did when elaborating on the liminal phase of rites de
passage. He argues chat actually the whole ritual process is liminal, because all phases
happen in a time outside 'normal' time and in a space apart from 'normal' space. For
Turner not the liminal status of the deceased is important in the first place, but the
liminal time-space in which the whole community is situated. Liminalicy is a
moment oucside the usual social order, during which the daily order can be turned
upside down, reflected upon, or transformed: a so-called anti-structure. Turner's
concept of liminality provides an entry to understand the funeral celebration as a
kind of ritual space, set apart from daily reality and freed from its restrictions, to
negotiate social identiries and relations and to reflect upon and playwith desires and
imaginations. This may be a very fruicful starting point from which to view Asante
funerals. But rather than seeing the funeral as a liminal space in which 'secular dis-
tinctions of rank and status disappear or are homogenised' (Turner 1969: 95), I wil!
focus on death as an occasion for the elaboration of differences, the cornpetition for
status and power and the negotiation of culture (cf. Masquelier n.d; Venbrux 1995).
STUDIES OF AKAN FUNERALS
Not surprisingly, Akan funerals have attracted much attention from social scientisrs.
However, up til! now there are very few elaborate studies. Moreover, many accounts
give a rather statie image of 'the' funeral. The British government anchropologist
Rattray devoces one chapter ofhis classic study of theAsante (1927) to 'funeral rites for
ordinary individuals'. His elaborate description of the Asante funeral is most valuable
for the detailed information ic provides on funeral practices in the first decades of the
20th century. The genera! image he gives us of a well attended celebration with a lot of
music, dancing, drinking and wailing can still be found in a contemporary funeral,
but many of the practices that he describes, such as genera! fasting, firing of guns,
placing of food for the deceased, and widowhood rites, have practically disappeared.
Rattray's work still serves as a major source of information for scholars writing on
Asante funerals (e.g. Arhin 1994; Manuh 1995) and also for 'traditionalists' in Ghana.
After Rattray many others have written about Asante funerals from different per-
spectives. I wil! mention a few important studies and the questions they leave open.
Vollbrecht did anthropological fieldwork in an Asante village and devoted her disser-
tation (1978) specifically to Asante funerals. She sees the significance of funerals in
their function of reinforcing communitas and confirming social struccure. Her inter-
pretation of the importance of funerals in Asante goes beyond the often raken-for-
granted truism chat ancestors are important. She argues that funerals are increasingly
JO Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
significant today, because they serve as an area of defence against outside threats of
village structure and unity. Although she eays considerable attention to social and
cultural change, my problem with her account is her representation of this change.
First she gives a thorough analysis of the harmonious 'traditional structure' of an
Asante village, characterised by the close intertwinement of cosmology and social
structure. Change only comes with the 'threats to traditional structure': Chrisrianiry
and modern, secular, European-derived institutions. The Asante people themselves
are in this process no more than onlookers, passively undergoing the -onslaught of
modernity. The funeral celebration is like a last defence, symbolically restoring the
village unity. Vollbrecht's analysis, then, does not leave much space for internal con-
flict, individual interests, people's own creativiry, and cornpetition for status.
A similar narrative of modernity implicitly underlies Owusu-Sarpong's study of
Akan death (1992). She provides a linguistic analysis of texts and visual symbols col-
lected mainly at royal funerals. She argues that words, objecrs, and ritual gestures are
entirely subjected toa 'gigantic work of persuasion that affirms that the dead are not
dead', the victory of life over death, the myth of Akan survival. Her work provides
very rich ethnographic material and an insight into the deep roots of funeral prac-
tices in an extensive body of local traditions, concepts and beliefs. Yet her lament
that 'Akan funeral texts and ritual gestures carry in thern the traces of a disappearing
world ( the Akan world), bur deserve to be saved from oblivion, because they can still
serve as a model for a world that is dehumanised by becoming uniform' (1992: 39,
original in French, translation MdW) does not help us to understand contemporary
funeral practices. Such a concept of culture is too statie and too closed, and such a
view of cultural homogenisation of the world too negative to grasp the creative
forces that account for the dynamics of mortuary practices at the grass roots. When I
listen to the texts ofhighlife songs, dirges, laments and eulogies, I don't heat blunt-
ness or dehumanisation. When observing the numerous people contributing special
gifts, a performance, a song, tears or mere presence to the funeral, wearing a variery
of mourning cloth and funeral fashion, I don't see traces of a disappearing world or
uniformity. Among the people in Bekwai I have not met any victims of modernisa-
tion, merely surviving the destruction of their culture. Contemporary Akan funeral
culture is not only very much alive, hut also specifically Akan.
Arhin (1994) leaves much more room for current transformations in Akan
funeral practices that come with the socio-economie processes of modernity and for
the active role of the people in shaping these transformations. Focusing mainly on
the economie aspects, he argues that the scale of funeral celebrations has been enor-
mously enlacged as a result of the money economy, improved communication and
technology and migration. He acgues that the persistence of funeral rites is due to
the fact that they still combine various functions in a 'total social phenomenon',
even as changes occur in the forms in which the ideas underlying thern find expres-
sion. He sees these transformations as a shift from a predominantly sacred event to a
profane one, where concerns of money, wealth and status have replaced religious
lntroduction II
beliefs in the performance of the funeral. Although interesting, I think his analysis
of change is too much limited to economie concerns. Also in earlier times did ex-
changes, display of wealth and status concerns play an essential role in funerals.
Moreover, at present too, religious beliefs, whether traditional, Christian or both,
do frame mortuary practices. Would it not be more a question of scale and form
than of a replacement of religion by economics?
Of patticular importance is the work of Van der Geest, who did extensive field-
work in Kwahu. His writings on the image of death in Akan highlife songs (1980,
1984, 1985) wil! be drawn upon and discussed later. In two articles on old age and
funerals (1995, 2000), where he mainly emphasises the aspect of care in the context
of the position of elderly in the society, he also states that a 'secularisatiori' of the
Asante funeral has taken place, chat the emphasis is now more on the social and po-
litica! than on the religious. It is the prestige chat funerals bestow upon the living
rather than the care and respect for the dead chat explains their present exuberance.
Van der Geest's work is very illuminating and I wil! make use of it throughout the
chapters. I particularly share his view that the way funerals are celebrated is induced
more by life values than by beliefs about death. My question, however, is whether
this can be understood as a shift in time from a religious way of dealing with death to
a socio-politica! way.
A DYNAMIC APPROACH OF DEATH
In this rich body of data and analyses regarding Akan death and funerals, what misses
is specific attention to the cultural meaning of recent developments such as commer-
cial services, consumption pracrices, new technologies and modern media. Descrip-
tions of such developments remain limited to the observation that they increase the
cost of funerals and thus the status of the deceased and the bereaved family. Although
this financial aspect is of much importance and also constitutes one of the major top-
ics of discussions in Ghana, it is too narrow to come to a deeper understanding of
transformations in funerary practices. ItzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
surprises me chat in descriptions of the 'tradi-
tional funeral' questions of cultural meaning, symbolism and local beliefs are elabo-
rately discussed, but as soon as one deals with modern forms and Western-derived
practices these ace taken for granted and local cultural patticularities neglected. Why
should this be so? It may be due to three implicit, hut still persistent assumptions
about modernity. First, that people's encounter with modernity makes religion disap-
pear or at least move into the private sphere away from social, politica! and economie
institutions. Secondly, that modernity in Africa (and elsewhere in the world) would
follow the same trajectory as in the West. And thirdly, that Africans are in this process
just passive onlookers, victims of modernity encroaching on and destroying their cul-
ture. Within this paradigm, modern aspects of funeral celebrations - business, con-
sumption, rechnology, media - ace secular Western institutions and practices trans-
planted onto Africa and lack any cultural specificity and ritual-religious significance.
 1 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Long live the deadzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
I2
This simplistic and Western-centred assumption, however, does not lead us very
far in understanding how people at the grass roots transform funeral practices to
express new imaginations and create new meanings chat come with the process that
brings the contemporary world so close together and may be called globalisation.
Rather, it is in the interaction between the local and the global chat new cultural
forms and meanings arise. Asante death is shaped with the materials chat have come
with Asante people's encounter with modernity. Even the most 'traditional' village
funeral is informed by a long history of globalisation (cf. Piot 1999), which in-
cludes consumption, commoditisation, mass media, and Chrisrianity. I understand
'globalisation' as people's increasing involvement in global economie, political, cul-
tural, and religious streams of world-wide circulating products, practices, and ideas.
Globalisation does not auromatically lead to cultural homogenisation or 'Ameri-
canisation', but ir is through the localisation of global cultural streams, that new cul-
tural forms arise and old ones transform. As a matter of face, local traditions are very
often denied time in the same way as non-Western societies have been placed out-
side history (Wolfr982). But what is experienced at one point in time as local, has
evolved over a long period of time. Local practices of consumption, the use of media,
or the purchase of services, as I wil! show, both come from outside and are at the
same time deeply rooted in culrurally specific, but constantly evolving patterns of
social organisation, exchange, and belief.
To provide insight into how Asante in present-day Ghana shape and give mean-
ing to their funeral celebrations I propose that the relation between the form of the
funeral - of objects, actions, or texts - and its meaning is never given, but is created
by people interacting and grounded in time and space. The socio-politica! and the
ritual-religious aspects of this interactive process are inseparably connected. Hence,
I take a view of death as a field of interaction, providing the ritual context 'for the
meaningful elaboration of identity and diversity [and] the reevaluation of social
values and relations chat could not take place in life' (Masquelier n.d.: 26).
I see the ritual-religious significance of Asante funerals not in the first place in reli-
gious doctrines or religiously prescribed rites, but in the work of religion as a free
space for the dialogue between sacred and profane, between imaginations and
worldly reality. This entails a move from a concept of ritual as 'tightly structured per-
formances of prescribed actions accorded sacred or religious meaning' (Keesing
1981: 343) to a much broader concept of ritual, Drawing upon Turner's concept of
liminality and anti-structure, I suggest chat death and the practices surrounding it
offer people a ritual time-space, marked as distinct from every-day routine with its
every-day limirs, to reflect upon the status quo and to play with desires and imagina-
tions. This space of death is a powerful site for creating memory, restating history
and tradition, and negotiating meaning, a 'theatre' for staging images. These may be
images induced by ideals and desires that are not practicable in daily reality, like
those of wealth and beauty, of close unity and mutual support, or of modern life-
styles. But during funerals chings are also possible chat are not acceptable in normal
Introduction IJ
life, like excessive drinking, conspicuous display of wealth, public wailing, or rolling
on the ground. The drama tic event of death creates a liminal space for staging visions
of life that may contrast sharply with the reality of life outside this ritual space.
As a funeral never follows a fully fixed scenario of prescribed actions, the images
to be created may always be contested and contestation implies strategies. Strategies
that people follow in pursuing their interests. This is the socio-polirical dimension
of death and funerals. Studying strategies, then, asks for an actor cencred approach
in which not the product - the final form of 'the Asance funeral' - appears central,
but the process - how people get to that form. It is not the rules that teil us how
funerals are celebrated, but the strategies. Insread of trying to understand how cul-
ture makes people act, we have to focus on how people interact to make what even-
tually becomes their culture. Rules, then, are significant only as part of strategies:
how supposed rules, or 'custorns', are manipulated and used to legitimise certain
practices. The interests people have in funerals are various. Different parties are
involved - individuals, groups of people, institutions - and all zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZ
have their place and
history in society. The extended family, customarily the 'owner' of a funeral, the
nuclear family, churches, community groups, and states all have their images to
stage and vie for the appropriation of the management of death. The end of an indi-
vidual's life incites competing ways of remembering, of claiming idenriry, and of
assessing meaning. Gaining control over (part of) the performance of a funeral is at
the same time a way oflegitimising social, political, mora! or religious authority. At
various levels, then, the ends people seek to achieve in funerals have to do with social
relations, power, social prestige and social pressure, conflicts and cornpetirion.
In short, I will approach Asante funerals not as an institution present in society
to be studied and described, but as a field of interaction, in which tensions arise, dis-
cussions and negotiations take place and imaginations are turned into images.
Whose imaginations these are and by what means this happens is a question of
power. This 'polities ofimagination' is at work in a series of communicative funeral
events, situated in a field of tensions between different 'parties' in society. Behind
the images of community and solidarity presented at funerals, conflicts, different
interests, and power games are played out. The analysis of these events (and of docu-
ments, as materialisations of such events) will teil the story, or ethnography, of the
Asante funeral. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ethnographic context: Asante-Bekwai
The place where the people figuring in my story live and the events described took
place is called Bekwai. Asante-Bekwai. Ït is a middle seized town some 35 kilometres,
but one-hour drive due to the bad road condition, sourh ofKumasi, the Asante capi-
ta! and second largest city of Ghana. It is the capita! of the Amansie-West district
and counts, according to very rough estimates by some administrative officials,
I4 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Introduction IS

Bekwai is built on a hilltop. Approaching the town from the north, from Kumasi,
Ghana zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA one only sees the pink and yellow court hall surrounded by high palm trees and the
-- lnl~Nl•o"al bouhdaty
high broadcasting mast. You have to branch off the main road to the south, the
-·- Rc,v10t1 bcxmd.,., zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

__
__ .....
*
0
Nahol\61«pit.al

..,...., zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
R,,o,on c11p11al

zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
'highway',
the marker
to know that here is a lively town. The two main streets, the bus station,
and the main buildings are close together in the central area and the rest
of the town is spread out down the hills. Being a district capital, there are quite some
city-like buildings in Bekwai, many of which remind of the colonial past. There are
the District Administration buildings, called the 'rninistries', the court hall, the
police headquarters, the Ghana Commercial Bank, and the post office. From the
apparently chaotic, but in fact very well organised bus station, trotro's and shared
taxis leave to surrounding towns and villages, Kumasi, and even once a day to Accra.
On Wednesdays, marker day, the big marker dominates the whole central area of
the town, as traders from the surrounding villages flock to Bekwai to trade their
ware. A new marker, a modern, concrete rwo-storey building, was being constructed
during my stay and was to be the pride of the town. Recently I heard that, three years
later, it is still not finished and the marker women still spread out their onions,
tornatoes, dried fish, spices, and cosmetics on their woeden rabies and empty sacks
on the often muddy ground.
Situated in the cocoa producing area and on the railway line connecting Kumasi
to the coast, Bekwai is a major cocoa distribution centre, were middlemen and agen-
cies buy the cocoa from the farmers and sell it for export. During harvest time the
smell of fermented cocoa penetrates one' s nose as one passes the Cocoa Marketing
Board or the storage depots down at the railways.

Gult of Guinea

... --~·~
about ten thousand inhabitants. Bekwai is conceptually and for many also geo-
graphically located between city and village. For the people in Kumasi, and espe-
cially for urban migrants originating from Bekwai, Bekwai is a backward village.
Going to Bekwai means moving out of the city into the bush. The once tarred, but
now often muddy road full of potholes only reinforces this feeling. But for the
people living in the small villages around, Bekwai is where it happens, the site of
·modernity and the first gate to the wider world. Bekwai is where one goes to get
documents and papers, to have pictures made in a photo studio, to bring money to
the bank, or to catch transport to Kumasi and further. MAP OF BEKWAI AND KUMASI AREA
 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
r6
Walking through the main streets one encounters a lot of small businesses.
There are many trading enterprises, like 'Cool Çuy' who sells all kinds of imported
and locally produced consumption goods from biscuits and batteries to shampoo,
candles and canned food stuffs, or so called 'cold stores' selling frozen fish, chicken
parts, and meat. Orhers trade in old refrigerators, second hand cloches and shoes,
medicines, agricultural requirements, enamel or plastic wares. At three or four com-
munication centres people can make and receive their phone calls. Telephone at
home is a luxury not many people have at their disposal. I always went to 'Oheneba'
to receive mine, where the girls operating the phones were either watching The Bold
and the Beautiful or sleeping behind the counter. Bekwai counts several drinking
bars, some of which get lively mainly in the evenings, like the 'Star Nice Club', and
some of which attract customers mainly during the day, like Auntie Ireen's 'Ghana
Bar', built of wood and corrugated iron sheets. Food stalls on the streets sell fried
plantain, yam, and fish and at the few chop bars you can eat local dishes like fufu
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
with 'light soup', ampesie and kontomire, or banku and okra stew. Eating regularly in
such places, however, is not socially acceptable. It means you are lazy or not properly
cared for at home. At the ubiquitous tailor shops, like WofaAtta's 'Onyame na ays'
(it is God who has done it), you can have your material sewed into a dress, at the
beaury saloons and hair dressers your hair plaited or straightened, at 'Kyere me
(show me) photo studio your picture taken. Carpenters make you the furniture and
the coffins you want. Funeral undertakers, video men and sound systern ren tal corn-
panies provide the additional services you need. All these activities are concentrated
in an area of a few hundred square metres.
Turning left near the end of the main street, you getto the chief's palace, the
ahenfie. I quite well remember my first visit to the palace. Armed with my tape
recorder, notebook, and, as custorn demands, a bottle ofDutch jenever, I arrived at
the big two-storeyed palace for my first official meeting with the chief. I almost feit
like an anthropologist. Standing in front of the huge gate, I found the place suspi-
ciously deserted. When I woke the man up who was sleeping on a wooden bench
next to the gate and asked him whether the chief was there, he looked at me as if
nobody could ever ask amore stupid question. It turned out that the palace had been
hardly in use since the death of the paramount chief a year ago. Due to a chieftaincy
dispute, there was no pararnount chief at the time and the kuntirehenewho acted in
his place did not stay in the palace, but in his own house. He told me later chat since
the destoolment (impeachment) of the last chief bur one rhere has been a disagree-
ment over who should succeed him. A new chiefwas enstooled (enthroned), but he
was not accepted by apart of the royal family. Therefore, when he died, no new head
of the traditional area could be ensrooled as omanhene, paramount chief, until the
. dispute is solved. In the olden days Bekwai was a powerful state, but now 'there is no
peace in Bekwai', people complained.
A landmark in the centre of town is the big Catholic Church with its towers of
corrugated iron, called 'cathedra!'. Because the Roman Catholic missionaries once
Introduction I7
were the first to come to Bekwai, the roman church is still relatively big here. But locs
of other churches are also represented. The Anglican, Methodist, and Presbyterian
churches, the Church of Pentecost, and the Seventh Day Adventists are all quite big.
Beside these there are several smaller, mainly pentecostalist churches, like the House
ofFaith Miniseries, or spiritual churches. When you walk in town on Sundays you
hear church singing coming from one or another church at every street corner and
you see everybody dressed up beautifully for the three-hour masses. Apart from the
large Christian population, about 90% zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONM
of the total population, there is a small per-
centage of Moslems. Most of thern are immigrants from the northern part of Ghana
and live in 'Zongo', the area on the ether side of the 'highway'. That's also where the
mosque is.
Being a relatively rich area, the Asante Region attracts many immigranrs. Bekwai
too, although predominantly Asante' and according to some people a 'typical Asante
town', is inhabited by different ethnic groups. Many come from the north and work
as agricultural labourers, caretakers, or traders. Others come from the coastal or
southeastern regions, like the Fanti and the Ewe. They usually rent aroom and live
as tenants in compound houses. Imrnigrants, though sometimes living in Bekwai for
generations, do not consider it as their hometown. Your hornetown is where your
family originates from and for thern that is elsewhere. Similarly, people who have
moved from Bekwai to other towns decades or generations ago, will still see Bekwai
as their hornetown and will come home for important funerals, or, finally, to die and
be buried here.
On different sides of the town there are newly built residential areas, were it takes
people years to build their own houses. Mostly these are natives from Bekwai who
have migrated to Kumasi, Accra or abroad and spend their money on a big villa in
their hornetown, the ultimate and most visible proof of being successful. It was in
such a house that I was living during my stay in Bekwai. 'Salve Regina' is written in
big capitals in the face of the house and before I moved in the Catholic priest blessed
it to protect me against evil spirits. It is the house of my mother Joana, with whom I
lived and worked during my first stay in Ghana and who adopted me as a daughter.
She comes from Bekwai, but lives and works as a nurse in Trede, a village on the way
to Kumasi. She invests the 'little little money' that she earns in this house, that her
father started building eleven years ago, just before he died. Now, Joana's big pride is
almost finished. When I moved into the house, only tap water and electricity were
still to be connected. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
An anthropologist in the field
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFE
In the course of my seven months of anthropological fieldwork I seldom feit like a
'real' researcher. But what should chat be, a 'real' researcher? I was often troubled by
an indefinable feeling chat I should 'do' more. The research I carried out in Bekwai
18 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
and surroundings was an enrirely qualitative research, based mainly on participant
observacion. Alrhough, afcer five years of training in anthropology, I had made a well
founded choice for such a research method and was convinced of its merits for
understanding human behaviour, it turned out that 'real research' for me, uncon-
sciously, still meant something like having structured interviews and collecting ob-
jective, quantitative data. This surprised me. Apparently, the 'hard' methods of
positivist science that have theoretically fallen into discredit were still lingering on in
mymind.
The aim of my research was to gain insight into funeral practices as part oflocal
daily life. My research method therefore has been centred around the interaction
berween me as researcher and the people in the 'field', what anthropologists use to
call 'participant observation', practical participation a daily life world of people. But
what does the so often taken for granted term 'participant observarion' mean in
practice? The rwo parts of the term seem to contradict each ether. Participation
means reducing the distance between researcher and researched; observation implies
taking distance. For me the aim of anthropological fieldwork is gaining insight in
other people's ways of doing by learning how to do it yourselfby participating. But
how can you participate in something you don't know yet without observing? The
basis of learning and appropriation is imiration. This is the way children learn and
are socialised into their culture and this is also the way an anthropologist learns. An
Asante proverb says ohohoo te se abofra, a stranger is like a child. People often told me
I was like a child, referring to the way I did certain things, trying to imitate what I
saw people doing. But before you can imitate sornething, you first have to watch
someone else doing ic. In order to knowhow to cook, weed, greet, sit, walk, or carry
headloads properly, I carefully watched other people do it, and then tried to do the
same thing. This is observation. People also took great pleasure at teaching me, not
by explaining, bur by having me do things. Tying my headscarf, pounding fufu,
dancing at funerals or delivering a short 'forrnal' speech in Twi. This often rook the
form of playfully testing me, evoking great enthusiasm when I passed and hilarity
when I failed, but always laughter.
In my experience doing fieldwork means not only reducing the distance between
researcher and researched, but going beyond this very distinction to the point that it
is unclear who is the researcher and who is the researched. Of course there is a differ-
ence in the sense chat as an anthropologist I had specific research questions in mind
and aimed at reflection and conceptualisation, but the people in Bekwai observed
me at least as intensively as I observed them. They carefully watched everything
I did, how I did ir, where I went, and with whom I had contact. They attentively
listened to what I said, and how I said it. Both out of curiosity for my 'otherness' and
as a way of testing my 'Asanteness', they asked me where, what, when, and most of
all, why? They discussed their observations with each other, analysed thern, and
drew their conclusions. And I observed them, listened to thern and asked them ques-
tions. I discussed my observations with others and had them comment. I was a bit
lntroduction 19
more reluctant, however, in drawing conclusions. Observation as part of the field-
work praxis is always rnutual observation. Observation is part of people's daily life
world and not reserved for the fieldworker. As such, it does not impede participation
and can be the basis of an open communication.
Practical participation in the daily life of the people means reducing the distance
between yourself and the people you are living with as much as possible. This means
adapting yourself as much as you can to local life, and local norms. This, however,
has its limitations and can sornetimes be at odds with the aim of doing research,
namely to get to know as much as possible about something. Adaptation means
doing as little as possible that is not good rnanners, like sticking one's nose into
everything. This I experienced for example with the events around the dead body
prior to the public ceremony, like transporting the body from the mortuary to the
house, bathing and dressing it. I already feit a certain reserve concerning such events
and as soon as I noticed that my hesitating request to be present evoked any resist-
ance or doubt, I immediately, somewhat relieved perhaps, let go of my plans with-
out further insisting. Participation always has its limirs, especially where it concerns
sensitive, embarrassing, precarious matters. An Akan proverb beautifully expresses
this: oboboo nsoa funu ti, a stranger does not carry the head of a corpse.
But ifI did not carry a dead body's head, then what did I participate in? Partici-
pation is in the first place 'being there'. When I went to Ghana for the first time to
work as a volunteer in a village clinic, I did not yet realise chat this was the start of my
fieldwork. For five months I had nothing else to do than assisting with everything
going on in the clinic, from first aid and malaria treatment to deliveries and circurn-
cision of baby boys, accompanying the nurse, Joana, on home visits, practising my
Twi by ralking with people, going to the mar ket, cooking, washing clothes, indeed,
being there. No research to carry out, no specific things to get to know, no inter-
views to do, my only objective was living with the people and trying to understand a
little bit about their lives. Being part ofJ oana' s family, I as a matter of course partici-
pated in the daily chores, in going to church and to funerals, in eating and laughing
and quarrelling. It was there, in Trede, that I started to develop what Bourdieu calls
a 'fee! for the game'. In retrospect I would say one could have no better basis for car-
rying out an anthropological research.'
When I returned to zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCB
Ghana in J uly 1998, however, I hesitated to go and live with
my family in Bekwai. I feared a tension between my role as granddaughter and my
role as researcher. Being part of a family is very important for being accepted as part
of the community, and therefore for an open cornmunicarion with the people, but
at the same time, it restricts your research activities. Eating in other people's homes,
talking extensively with people you don'r know, being in a bar at night - where
interesting things may take place - or hanging out on the streets in the clark are all
activities that do not fit a self-respecting family. And especially if you are the only
white in town, everybody is constantly keeping an eye on you and of course, just
those things that are not all that respectable will be immediately reported to your
20 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
lntroduction
2I

family. 'Agyapomaa, I have seen your granddaughter drinking beer in the Ghana
interpretations, including my own. What I have clone is arranging them and reinter-
Bar!' 'Adwoa, it's late, go home and if somebody calls you, don't answer', Adwoa,
preting them within a broader framework and on a more conceptual level.
adee asa, kJ fie na obifre wo a mmua, my grandmother instructed me time and again.
The structure I employ to organise my story is generated by the fact that a coher-
'Yoooo', I always responded obediently and then went to visit someone in town.
ent, singular, commonly shared culture does not exist by the reality of different view-
The next day my grandmother would teil me off. I always had co compromise on
points, different interests, and different practices, by the negotiation and manipula-
what my family expected from me and what I wanted co do myself.
tion that goes on in the process of creating culture. It leaves room for the inconsist-
I visited my grandmother, Akosua Agyapomaa, almost daily. We had numerous
encies and ambiguities oflife. Each chapter is devoted to one of the social 'fields' thar
conversations, in Twi, sometimes about just anyrhing, sometimes about a specific
play a part in shaping the funeral. Of course, these fields cannor be separated from
subject. I ate with her, helped her with the household chores, and witnessed daily life
each other as may be suggested by such an arrangement. They are, however, units
in a family compound house. There were four ether elderly wamen whom I also vis-
employed by the local people when talking about the organisational structure of
ited regularly at home co 'sit with them' (tena unn nkyen) and chat (di nkommiï,
society. I wil] open each chapter with the description of a communicative event or a
Of course I went co every funeral in town. I visited about forty funerals, burials,
document objectifying such an event, illustrating the role and significance of that
and memorial celebrations. Very aften I went with Yaa Mansah, my grandmother's
particular 'field'. I will put the field in a broader cultural and historica! context, ana-
sister, who knows everybody. I dressed in mourning cloth, made, as is the custom, a
lyse its relation with death and funerals, and examine the links wirh ether fields. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba
donation to the family, and rook part in the dancing. During the ceremonies and
In the next chapter I shall start wirh the field most closely involved in death, the
celebrations, but also afterwards, I asked people questions about what was happen-
individual person. How is the deceased person during the funeral celebrations, after
ing and why, about the life of the deceased, and about the family. In that way I tried
his or her death, constituted as a person? Conceptions of death and personhood,
to get as much background information with what I experienced. People's reactions
ideas about good life and remembrance will be discussed here and linked to certain
to my frequent funeral visits were unanimously positive. At a certain moment a
funeral practices. Chapter 2 will be devoted to the family: how does a family consti-
woman cold me 'wope ayie k» paa, nti obiara pe w 'asem' - you like going co funerals,
tute and present itself during the funeral that she organises? What are the conflicts
that's why everybody likes you. Visiting funerals is a much appreciated social act.
and tensions behind the image presented? This is closely related to the subject of
Appreciated by the bereaved family, because you come to mourn with them, co help
Chapter 3, community. How is community creared, reinforced or undermined? A
rhern with your presence as well as with your donation, and appreciated by the other
funeral is an occasion for both unity and competition. Reciprocity and rows, dona-
visirors because you participate in social life.
tions and gossip play apart. Particular attention will be paid to migration and city-
In the first week of my fieldwork I started selling yams at the Wednesday market
village differentiation. In Chapter 4 I will examine the 'funeral industry', the small
with Yaa Mansah. She is the bayerehemaa, the leader of all yam sellers. Besides the
businesses and services that all play their part in shaping death. I will discuss the
pleasure that laughing and talking with everybody and being in the centre of activ-
commercialisation of funerals against the background of the growth of a modern,
ities the whole day gave me, it had additional values for my research. In the first
urban lifestyle of consumption, fashion, and amusement. The fifth chapter will be
place contacts and friendships. Both the market and funerals are main sites of social
devoted to the role of the churches in the performance of funerals, to the part they
life, and most of the market wamen are regular funeral goers. Secondly, the market
play in the organisation as well as to their voice in the funeral debate. In Chapter 6zyxwvutsrqponmlk
is an important source of stories, gossip, and information about specific funerals and
I will analyse how the state, that is both the traditional authorities and the national
family relations. Last!y, spending one's time at the market is a perfect way of learn-
government, influence the funeral practice by making laws and by organising big
ing and practising Twi. Only a few market wamen speak English and they are all
funerals for prominent people. In the last chapter I will present my concluding
more than eager co talk. Language, the prerogative for communication, is the most
remarks and reflect on Asante death and processes of cultural change.
crucial thing in participation. Therefore I spent much time in the field learning Twi.

It is upon these experiences that I base this book. But using subjective experiences as
'data' means reflection not only on your information, but also on yourself. This
raises the question of about whom I am writing. About the people in Bekwai or
about myself? Whose story is it? It is the product of the encounter between me and
people in the field and therefore it could be said to be 'our story'. But in fact it is not
one story that I write down here. They are many stories, of many people, and many
 CH APTER I zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUT

Person and Death:

Future Remembrance

It was one of the first times I visited a laying-in-state ceremony.' A commercial

funeral undertaker had decorared the 'display room', which had already been freshly
painted in bright blue and pink. The ceiling and the walls were hung with lace, col-
oured plastic flowers were all over and a big golden bed with china ornaments and
small electric lights was standing in the middle. The body of Nana herself was
wrapped in a beauriful piece of kente zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPO
clorh and abundantly decorated with gold
chains, precious beads and rings. The display of the body was a display of grandness,
glamour and luxury.
Women were walking around the bed, vehemently wailing and weeping, 'Nana
awu oo, Nana awu oo, yen ani abre oo! ', Our grandmother has died, our grand-
W OM AN M O U RN IN G H ER DECEASED FATH ER
mother has died, our eyes are red (i.e. we are in serious trouble). They threw their
arms up in the air in despair, their eyes were literally red, tears were flowing across
their cheeks. A video man was recording all this from close by. In front of the camera
the wailing got even more dramatic. Still somewhat reluctantly I asked the sister of
the deceased for permission to take a picture of the dead body. 'Yes, of course, but
wait till my sisters and I are ready', she told me. A few minutes later she gave me the
sign to follow her and her sisters to the bed. They started wailing heamendingly and
immediately their tears were flowing down. I stood there, with my camera in my
hand, a little uneasy and not really knowing what to do. 'Twa no!', snap her, the
woman sitting beside the corpse whisking away the flies urged me to take the picture
of the body and the weeping women. So I did and immediately she produced that
unmistakable and typically Ghanaian sound of appreciation, 'èbèèè'.
I never again asked for permission to photograph dead bodies or crying people. I
didn't even got the chance to. As soon as people saw me at a funeral, they asked me
'Adwoa, where is your camera? Come and snap me one', pulled me to where the
deceased was lying in state and posed beside the dead body.

Conflicting conceptions of death

To understand Akan mortuary practices we have to pay attention to people's ideas

about death and dying. However, one coherent, unambiguous, commonly shared
DEAD M AN 'S HAN D AD O RNED W ITH GO LD
24 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 25

view, 'the native point of view', does not exist. There are several native points of
(1978: 170), however, states that 'after death, the kra leaves the body and, now known
view (native only in the sense that they are held by local people, not that they are
as saman,' climbs the steep rnountain of death to asamando to join the ancestors in a
local in origin), which conflict and intermingle according to how people use them.
life very similar to life on earth.' Apparently, no agreement exists on whether it is the
People by no means have a singular view on what death is and on what happens
sunsum or the kra that is going to live on after death. Clear is that after death, the body
after death. These ideas vary from person to person and from situation to situation
is no Jonger that of a human being, because that which makes a person a human being
and are full of inconsistencies and obscurities. To simplify the matter, I shall distin-
(both sunsum and kra) has left the body. A corpse is referred to by the impersonal pro-
guish three discourses with regard to death: first, traditional beliefs about ancestors, nomina! prefix s- (it) rather than the personal prefix J- (he or she).
Asamando ( the land of the dead), and reincarnation; second, the Christian doctrine
ofheaven and hell andJudgement Day, as preached in churches, public buses, and TABLE l The Akan triadic concept of the universe and the person
popular Christian literature focused on the bible; and third, the view of death as (based on Bartle 1983: 106)
expressed in highlife songs and on some prinred mourning cloths: death is the ab-
Universe Spiritual being Essence
solute end of all life.
Land, earth Red Asaase Yaa Fecundiry, abundance,
(asaase) (kJb) (Mother Earch)
TRADITIONAL AKAN COSMOLOGY AND THE CONCEPT OF DEATH
danger, seriousness,
dirt
Water White Spirits, lesser gods
In many descriptions of Akan traditional religion (e.g. Rattray 1927; Sarpong 1974; Fertility, viccory, joy,
(nsuo) lfufoo) (abosom)
Amponsah 1975), an image is presented of a statie, unchanging core ofbeliefs. How- purity
Sky, air, fire Black Ancestors
ever, also traditional ideology does not exist, and has probably never existed, as a Dynamics, history,
(mframa) (tuntum) (nananom nsamanfo)
fixed pattern of values and ideas. In this section I shall discuss chose traditional Akan power, time, change,
beliefs of personhood, death and dying, that are relevant for current funerary prac- Onyankopon (God) destiny
tices. In so doing, I shall draw upon what people in Ghana have cold me and upon
Person Origin
the writings of Rattray (192 7), Sarpong (197 4), Amponsah (1975), and Bartle (1983). Cultural dimension
In Akan cosmology it is thought that a person is composed of three elements: Blood Red Mocher Lineage, common
blood, a spirit, and a soul, coming from three different sources. Mogya (blood) one (mogya)
mernbership, land,
acquires matrilineally, from the mother. It is through one's blood that one is related property, inheritance
to all living and dead members of one's (matrilineal) family, one's abusua. The Spirit White Father Personality, moraliry,
sunsum (spirit) derives from the father at the moment of conception through his (sunsum) puriry, fercility
semen. The sunsum gives a child his personality. The kra (soul) one receives from Soul Black God Destiny, timeliness,
God at birth, as a 'goodbye gift': It is a small parti de of God making the person a (Jkra) _e_ower
human being and giving him/her a destiny (nkrabea). Bartle (1983) elaborates on this
cosmological trichotomy and shows how it parallels the three physical elements of Centra! in traditional Akan religion is the belief in ancestors (nananom nsamanfo),
the universe, earth, water, and sky/air; the three categories of spiritual beings Asaase and in the existence of asamando, the land of the dead. When a person dies his
Yaa (Morher Earth), spirits and lesser gods, and the ancestors and the supreme being sunsum or his kra goes to his ancestors, that is, the dead members ofhis family or lin-
Kwame Onyankopon (God); and the three ritual colours red, white, and black (see eage (abusua). The concept of ancestors is closely connected to the concept of farnily
Table 1). The colours red, white and black recur in many ceremonies. All three and blood relationship, as it is in the first place kinship ties that continue after death.
colours are, as I will show later, used in funeral celebrations 'to identify situations, to Ancestors are more often referred to and addressed (in Iibarion) in the plural
separate categorîes ofbehaviour, and to mark stages in recognising changes in status' (nananom), as the community of family ancestors, than individually. This is also
(ibid.: 88). expressed in the funeral dirges collected and analysed by Nketia (1955). In dirges that
After death, the three elements that make up a person have different destinies. refer to ancestors, kinship affiliations of the deceased with his ancestors and lineage
Sarpong (1974: 22) writes that when a person dies his body goes into the ground 'to be or clan history are rnentioned to bind the group togerher and to give the deceased a
the food of ants', his kra returns to God, from whom it first carne, and his sunsum con- place in the ancestral community. When particular ancestors are narned, it is be-
tinues to live much the same way as the integral person has lived on earth. Vollbrecht cause of their contribution to the corporate life of the group. By mentioning
26 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
glorious ancestors' narnes and accomplishments, the dirge establishes the living
members' pride in their lineage.
Kotoku man and grandchild of the Vanguard of Kotoku
Grandchild of Ampomaa: our lineage originates from Kotoku
Grandchild of Baabu: our lineage hails from Kade
Grandchild of Ofori Amarnfo: you are a Tia person
Grandchild of Ampomaa: our lineage hails from Dankyira Mmorobemu
Grandchild of Sasu Dam hails from Sankubanase
Grandchild of Abeam Danso and offspring of the Biretuo clan of Sskysre
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
[ ... )
(Nkeria 1955: 22)
Belief in the existence of ancestors, then, expresses more the continuity of the farnily
across the boundacy of death, than the continued life of the individual person. Ic also
indicates chat a person's being is strongly determined by his/her membership in the
abusua.
Death is like birth, the dead person is bom into another life. That's why the doch
given toa deceased must always be white and dead bodies are sometimes laid in state
in white. Death is perceived as the transicion to the position of ancestor, as a journey
to asamando. Hence the practice of giving a dying persona sip of water, to be able to
climb the steep hill leading to asamando. One's existence in asamando will be very
much like one's existence on earth. One will have the sarne position one has had in
life. A farmer on earth will farm the land in asamando; a chief on earth will be a chief
there. One will also have the same materials needs as on earth, Therefore the
deceased is given consumer goods and money ('burial things') to enable him/her to
provide for him/herself after the arrival in asamando. Por their nutricial needs, the
ancestors remain dependent upon their relatives on earth. By pouring libation and
putting aside food, the living can feed their relatives in asamando.
Not everybody, however, will be admitted to the land of the ancestors. Only
chose who meet certain criteria concerning a successful life can enjoy the position of
ancestor after their death. Deceased persons who are not admitted will be roaming
about as ghosts (saman twentwen) and come back to trouble people, especially their
relatives. With the beauciful things and money the deceased takes wirh him in the
coffin, he will be able to prove his success in life upon arrival in asamando. Not all
things are actually buried with the deceased. This might have been more common in
the past, as people told me, but now some people said chat it is the 'spirit' of the
things that goes to asamando with the spirit of the deceased, while the 'body' of the
things is shared arnong the living (i.e. the family). The practice of presenting 'burial
things' (adesiedee) expresses a concept of death as travel.' The following words typi-
cally accompany the presentacion of adesiedeeduring the Iaying-in-state ceremony in
the farnily house:
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 27
'agoo, nananom/abusuafoJ Agoo, elders/family
mesangyina ha biom zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
I am standing here again
ê)' ê ...
it is ... [name of giver, relation to
deceased, personal message)
Akua Afriye tu kwan na yen adJjoJ a wadi Akua Afriye is travelling and our loved
kan bebisa no: ones who have taken the lead will ask her:
"edeen na wade bre yen? " 'what have you broughr for us?'
Enti yerekuta ne hanky, ne sika, ne So we are holding her handkerchief, her
aburokyire schnapps, ne ntoma ne ne money, her European 'schnapps', her
mpetea. doch, and her ring.
yede gya no kwan, We see her off with ir,
yede to nsuo anom. ' we use it to buy water to drink.
This is comparable to the common practice of giving things like foodscuffs to a travel-
ler departing from home and going toa place where relatives or acquaintances stay. A
traveller should never go (and come) empty-handed. This is also very clear when
Ghanaians living abroad come home fora visie. They bring locs of beaurifnl gifrs for
their relatives and so prove their success abroad. Without chat they can' t come home.
If they cari't afford rnuch, they rather don't go than go with too few things. Even
when you are coming home from a day trip to town, Kumasi for example, people wil!
always ask you 'What have you brought for me?', edeen na wade bre me?
Just as the things the dead person brings with him or her, so also the scale and per-
formance of the funeral are a measure of success in life and thus influence the posi-
tion and power of the deceased in asamando. Above all the number of visitors is
important, but also, among others, the availability of food and drink, the kinds of
music or bands, and the quality of the dancing are ofinfluence. In the evaluation of a
funeral, these things are counted. Ayie no bae, 'the funeral carne', people say about a
successful funeral with plenty of people.
Lastly, the way one dies is ofinfluence for one's position after death. Asante make
a distinction between a good death and a bad death. A good death is a natura! death
at high age, after having brought forth many children and contribuced significantly
to the family well-being. When one dies young, in an accident or of an 'uncleari' ill-
ness, and has not completed one's life, this is considered bad. People who die a bad
death (JtJjoJ) bring shame upon rheir family and don't get an elaborate funeral. In
case of a shameful death, there is nothing to show off, nothing to be proud of. But
often, in such a case the family organises a big funeral to conceal the bad death, so
chat the distinction berween good and bad deaths has become blurred.
Bad deaths are traditionally attributed to evil forces, like witchcrafr, or juju. Also
if the immediate death cause is clearly known, an accident or a disease for exarnple,
there must be a spiritual cause behind rhis. People may consult oracles to find out
the cause of the death. Also, the ancient practice of 'carrying the corpse' (afansoa)
was directed at finding the witch responsible for the death. The dead body itself
28 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
would be carried through the town on the shoulders of a few men and would lead
the carriers to the house of the witch. This practice was out!awed by the colonial
government (see Chapter 6) and is no longer clone today. During the burial proces-
sion of a 28 year old man, however, a group of young people was running through
the crowd, singing 'onsee bayifoJ, wo na wakum no', let him destroy the witch, ir is
you who killed him.
The idea of good and bad deaths may be clarified by the counterexample of a
child' s death or sodoo, the first time parents lose a child, whether this child is an adult
or not. When a child dies, parents are not allowed to mourn. For a dead child no
funeral, in the sense of a public celebration, is organised. The child is not laid in state
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
and is buried in a simple wooden box, not even referred to as 'coffin', The parents
wear white cloth, a sign of joy and happiness, and are not allowed to cry. They are
made to eat fufu,' which means they are not fasting, and to perforrn a ritual of eating
et: and egg (a symbol of fertility) to make thern forget the child. During the small
gathering in the family house no music is played, few people come, and their dona-
tions are put in a covered bowl. The child's grave is unknown to most people and
certainly to the parents. No memorial celebrations are held. They say when you
mourn your <lead child, the spirits will come and take another one. That is why
bereaved parents are urged not to cry and to forget what happened as soon as possi-
ble. This scenario is exact!y opposed to the funeral of an adult, which is a big public
celebration, whereby s/he is lavishly laid in state, put in a decorated coffin, and bur-
ied in a grave identified by a tomb stone with the name, and often a picture. There is
loud music and a crowd of people in black and red. There is crying and, tradition-
ally, fasting (which in practice means abstaining from the staple food fufu), and
donations are publicly announced. Several memorial celebrations follow. A child's
funeral is characterised by concealment, privacy, and silence. All is about forgetting.
An adult' s funeral in contrast is characterised by visibiliry, publiciry, and noise. lt is
remembrance that matters. In short, someone who dies in dignity after a long and
successful life that can serve as an example for ethers will be admitted to asamando
and remembered and honoured as an ancestor.
Just as the ties with relatives travelling abroad are usually not cut off, so also the
ties with relatives travelling to asamando, with the family ancestors, continue. Al-
though the ancestors stay in their own place, they retain a functional role in the
world of the living, especially in the life of their relatives. A family could therefore be
seen as a community of both the living and the dead members (cf. Kopytoff rçzr:
121), a kingroup across the boundary of death. The ancestors have mystica! powers
and aurhority and their influence on the well-being of their living relatives may be
positive as well as negative. Because of this it is important to maintain a good rela-
tionship with one's ancestors by showing thern respect and remembering them. A
big funeral and the subsequent memorial celebrations are essential to this end. Rela-
tives neglecting this dury could arouse the deceased's wrath, who, in the position of
ancestor, can cause misfortune or even death.
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 29
Another aspect of the traditional view of death is the belief in reincarnation.
Deceased persons who are not admitted to asamando, become ghosts and wander
about to frighten people until they are conceived and bom into the world again. But
also those who have become an ancestor in asamando, may be reincarnated. Sarpong
explains that 'any ancestor, who considers that his work on earth was not complered
before he died, may decide to come back to complete it. Many people are thought to
be reincarnations of ancestors' (1974: 39). In this respect too dying is like migrating.
Most migrants travelling to the ciries or abroad to find greener pastures do so in the
prospect of coming back. 'Mekoaba,' people say when rhey are travelling, whether to
a town nearby for just a day or abroad for an indefinire period, Til go and come.'
And most do indeed, after having made enough money, come back to complete
their life and eventually die at home. The process of death, ancestorhood, and
rebirth is like the process of rnigration, living in the cities or diaspora, and return to
the hometown.
The traditional view of death is not as coherent as it is described by many schol-
ars. It is full of inconsistencies and insecurities. People disagree on whether reincar-
nation from asamando is possible. The spirit of a person is thought to make a long
journey before reaching asamando, hut at the same time it stays among the living.
Some people say that after death the spirit stays around for forty days, before leaving
for asamando. Hence the custorn of opening the deceased's boxes (to inspect his or
her properties) and appointing a successor not earlier than the fortierh day celebra-
tion. Orhers say it does not matter when you open the boxes, the spirit will notice
what you do to ir anyway. But the greatest insecurity is wherher one will be admitted
to asamando at all. The grounds on which one will be admitted as an ancestor, suc-
cess in life, are ambiguous and open to different inrerpretations. Moreover, one is
also dependenr upon ethers, especially one's family, since the way one's funeral is
celebrated also influences one's position in asamando. The ideas people have are rhus
very vague. They don't really know what will happen after death. Nobody has ever
witnessed it, nobody can tell, Yet, it occupies them and seems to be a source of great
insecuriry,
CHRISTIAN TEACHINGS ABOUT DEATH
Churches offer people a clear view in the face of the insecurity of life after death.
Although the view of death propagated by churches, of course, derives from the
bible, it is not so much the bible irself thar provides people with this clear view. The
bible too is full of contradictions and ambiguities and can be interpreted in a thou-
sand ways. Moreover, no clear reference to life after death can be found in the bible.
Ït is more the Christian teachings about life after death as preached in churches,
especially during burial masses, and in popular Christian literarure sold on the
street, that are of interest here. These teachings focus on heaven (Jsoro), hell (Jbon-
sam kurom), and Judgement Day (atemmuo). The promise of a straight way to
30 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
heaven, if only one is a good Christian, gives people something to hold on to, a kind
of security. At the same time churches fill thern with fear: the prospect of going to
heli if you are not found to have been a good ·Christian on J udgement Day. By
promising heaven to churchgoers and threatening non-churchgoing people with
heli, church leaders try to bind people to the church.
A leaflet by the Bible Society of Ghana, entitled Owuo akyire WJ nkwa ( there is life
after death), teaches people about the nature of death and the hereafter. It consists of
headings in the form of short, unambiguous statements about death and life after
death, followed and founded by bible texts, Together the statements form a clear
summary:
Owuo akyiri un nkwa.
Obiara nni b: a obetumi adwane owuo; obiara beuru.
Obiara beuru preko, na eno akyi unbebu no aten.
Awurade ba a oreba: w:m a unaura WJ Kristo mu.
Owu akyi mmeae mmienu pe na eu» ho ma yen: ibonsam kurom anaa isoro.
Obiara remfi awufoJ mu mba mmebo ateasejo: kJkJ.
Se onipa benya owuo akyi daa nkwa no gyina Jgyee a Jgye die se Yesu uiuie de pata
maa yen anaass Jnnye nnie.
Yesu, me ourusire ne nkwa no.
Se obi bepo Kristo, na enti wawu ne b:me mu no kyere se me onyankopon ntam
atete.
Kwan foforo obiara nni b» a unnam so bebu obi bem onyankopon anim gye se Jgye
di, Yesu so na w:mam nya nkwa.
There is life after death.
Nobody can escape death; everybody will die.
Everybody wil! die once and rhereafter s/he wil! be judged.
The son of the Lord who is coming: chose who have died in Christ.
Afeet death there are only cwo places for us: heli or heaven.
Nobody will leave che dead to come and visit che living.
Whecher a person will have ecernal life afcer death depends on whether he
believes or does not believe that Jesus died for our reconciliation.
J esus, he is the resurreccion and the life.
If somebody puts Christ aside and dies in sin, ic means that his bond (oach) with
God is broken.
There is no other way for a person to be justified in front of God than to
believe, through Jesus one wil! have life.
The message is clear: death is inevitable and irreversible, but after death one will
have eternal life in Jesus. But take care: only if you believe in Jesus you will go to
heaven; if not, God will send you to heil.
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 31
The threat of going to heil if you are nota good Christian is reinforced by the way
6
the bible is translated into Twi.zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
In the Twi bible (Anyamesem) the English word
'heli' is translated as abonsam kurom (the devil's hometown) or as asamando: Na
untoo owuo ne asamando twenee ogya tadee no mu. Yei ne owuprenu no (Adiyisem
20:14): Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is
the second death (Revelation 20:14). Na omaa n'ani soo WJ asamando no, na JWJ
animnyannee mu, na ahunuu Abraham akyirkyiri ne Lasaro se otuiere ne kokom (Luka
16:23): in hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away,
with Lazarus by his side (Lucas 16:23). The association of asamandowith heli and the
devil label traditional religion, in which asamando is a centra!, but certainly not a
negative concept, as devilish. In this way the translated bible warns people that hold-
ing on to traditional religious beliefs wil! make you go to heli.
From a street vendor in Kumasi I bought the Christian booklet Life after Death,
written by the American evangelist Gordon Lindsay. This kind of Christian litera-
ture is very popular in Ghana. Ït is sold on every street corner and circulates widely
among Christians. This particular booklet tells of visions ofheaven and heli by a eer-
tain Marietta Davis who left her body for nine days and then returned, an eyewitness
oflife after death so to say. 'Her story is a solemn warning to all who tread unheeded,
the paths that lead to death and who follow after the false pleasures of the sinful
world; lest they leave the body they may be drawn by the law of evil attraction
and are plumrneted into hades, the nether world, the land of lost hope' (Lindsay
1997: 19). Marrietta's journey into the realms of darkness begins as follows:
'Suddenly all the brighrness deparced as she descended into che regions of dark-
ness. In great fear she found herself plummeting down into a deep abyss. There
were sulphurous flashes, and then in the serni-darkness she saw floating abouc her
"grim-spectors enveloped in the fires of unhallowed passions." [ ... ) There were
burscs of laughcer, utcerances of revelry, of wicry ridicule, polished sarcasm,
obscene allusions and terrible curses. There was no water "to allay fierce and intol-
erable thirsr." The fountains and rivulecs that appeared were only mirages.
Fruitage rhat appeared on the trees burned the hand chat plucked it. The very at-
mosphere carried the elemencs of wrecchedness and disappoincmenc' (Lindsay
1997: 24-25).
Pamphlets like this one circulate all over the world as part of a global Christian
popular culture and grant people a view of the clark hereafter. The existence of heli is
envisaged not only textually in Christian pamphlets, but also visually in popular
paintings sold on the streets. It is agreed upon by many anrhropologisrs today that
products of popular culture can offer us an insight into the fears and desires of the
masses in modern times.' Many popular art expressions in Ghana are characterised
by a strong Christian morality. The paintings by 'Almighty God' Kwame Akoto, a
popular painter in Kumasi, are a striking example. His fantastic representations
32 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
of heil depict a dark, bush-like environment inhabited by monstrous creatures
cooking, eating and torturing human beings. Paintings like these make terrifyingly
visible what orherwise remains invisible. Almighry, who allegedly was delivered by
Jesus Christ from eighteen year of slavery to an agent of the Devil, explains: 'My
paintings area warning to everybody that Satan is everywhere; and it is only Jesus
who can save us.'
Another image visualising heaven and heli is described by Birgit Meyer (1999a).
This picture, entitled 'the broad and the narrow path', was highly popular in Pietist
circles and was brought to Ghana in the nineteenth century by German Pietist mis-
sionaries as a lithograph. Now various modern versions of this image are on sale in
Ghana, mostly full coloured posters. The image shows rwo possible parhs of life: a
broad one characterised by worldly temptations and bodily pleasures, leading to
heli, and a narrow one characterised by the absence of all this, by soberness and pov-
erty, eventually leading to eternal life in heaven. 'Then, on Judgement Day, the
damned would be sent to heli and the saved to heaven. The picture represents this in
a very unambiguous way, thereby producing a certainty which the Bible itself could
not provide' (Meyer 1999a: 33).
Images and pamphlets like the ones described simplify the complexity of the
Christian doctrine to provide people wirh a clear-cut framework for their ideas
about the hereafter. This kind of security is attractive for many and may explain why
the idea ofJ udgement Day, heaven and heli has gained such a strong foothold. They
also show us chat this view of death is very much alive.
The main differences berween the Christian and the traditional concept of death
concern the ties berween the <lead and the living. The traditional belief in reincarna-
tion, in the influence of the dead on life on earth, and in the influence of the behav-
iour of the living on the destination and well-being of the departed spirits all point
to the close honds berween the living and the <lead across the boundary of death. In
the Christian doctrine however, the <lead are not believed to have any direct influ-
ence on earth, neither to return to earth. Also, one's destiny after death, heaven or
heil, is totally independent of any behaviour of family members; it is only one' s own
belief and righteousness chat counts. The living and the <lead are separated; one can
only hope for reunion with loved ones in heaven. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Onipa wu a na wawu.
It is these differences that form the topic of many discussions. On local radio sta-
tions one can often listen to religious discussion programmes dedicated to specific
themes. I heard a discussion on a Kumasi station about life after death. A panel of
wise people, pastors, and priests in the studio reacred to listeners who called in with
questions, opinions, or personal experiences. Especially the question as to whether
or not reincarnation is possible evoked much disagreement. The message of the
radio panel was chat reincarnation is not possible, and they tried to prove this by
referring to the bible. Most callers did not seem to agree with this idea and recounted
their personal experiences with children being a reincarnation of someone they had
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 33
known before. This was often proved by a certain body mark of the deceased person,
which reappeared on a new-bom baby. But not only do convictions vary from per-
son to person. Also people's personal interpretations are often contradictory. Joana
told me, when we were talking about the radio discussion: 'I know a woman in
Bekwai who was bom with such a mark, showing chat she was truly reincarnated,
bur me myself, I don't believe in reincarnation.' There appears to be a big difference
berween genera! abstract beliefs and concrete, personal experiences.
Both traditional religious beliefs and Christianity offer people solace in the face of
death. The conviction chat after death one will live on in another world, whether
envisaged as asamando or heaven, or return on earth, helps people overcome the
painful experience of the death of a loved one and cope with the prospect of one's
own death. When one listens to the texts ofhighlife songs, however, a totally differ-
ent view of death appears.
'HIGHLIFE' VIEWS OF DEATH
Highlife is a form of popular culture chat encompasses music, songs, dance, and
theatre. It started at the very beginning of the 20th century with the music of the
dance-orchestras on the Ghanaian coast, who combined indigenous rhythrns, the
brass music of the Brirish army and the rhythms chat Ghanaian soldiers brought
back from the Caribbean into a new African musical sryle." From a somewhat elite
cultural good, highlife developed into a popular 'rnovement' that penetrates all cor-
ners of society, a 'vita! part of contemporary Ghanaian lifestyle' (Brempong 1986:
253). Highlife songs are usually sung in Twi. They comment on contemporary Gha-
naian society and on the problems chat many people have to cope with in their daily
lives. The songs have the fascinating capacity to say it all straightforward, to saywhat
can't be said. Van der Geest has collected, transcribed, and translated abour a hun-
dred highlife songs, many of which are abour death. In the following song by Alex
Konadu, the definitive character of death is explicitly mentioned:
Onipa wu a, na wawu - Alex Konadu If someone dies, he is dead
When a man dies, it is the end.
Me d, ara na awu a manhyia no baabiara, I have never met my lover since she died,
nti na megye ne di, so I believe it,
Onipa wu a na wawu When a person dies, it is the end.
Me maame awu a manhyia no baabiara, I have never met my mother since she died,
nti na megye ne di. so I believe rhis,
Ysse obi ba ma yen, If we say the deceased is coming to send
yeboa. us sornething, we !ie.
Anaase obi betu/ere yen, Or when we say chat the deceased wil!
yskyi oo. write to us, it is a big !ie.
34 Long Live the Dead! Person and Death: Future Remembrance 35

Se onipa wu a na wawu. [If someone dies, he is dead. people different solutions, Different situations require different beliefs or dis-
Awiase yi mu. In this world!] courses. The fact that in highlife one sings of the definitive character of death does
Asamando paano un hJ a, If there is bread sold in the other world, not exclude that in ether situations people do fee! the presence of ancestors. One can
amanjoJ ee, se obiara nni bi da. I don't know anybody who has eaten it. deeply mourn the eternal loss of a loved one in the earrhly, personal sphere, but at
Se yede asikyire na yeye o, Whether it is mixed with sugar, the same time believe in amore genera! concept of ancestorship (cf. Yankah 1984).
se yede nkyene na yeye o, whether there is salt in it, no one knows. As Nketia points out, this paradox is also expressed within the body of traditional
eye me se obiara nni bi da. Nobody has ever eaten it. funeral laments. 'The pathos of mortaliry and the vanity of some of these beliefs are
Se onipa wu a na wawu. Death ends everything. expressed in some dirges and songs' (Nketia 1955: 6-7). When I talked with Joana
Awiase yi mu. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
[in chis world]. about highlife songs about death (and in particular the song Abusua d1 fonu pre-
(Transcription MdW) zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
(Van der Geest 1980: 160) sented in chapter rwo), she stressed a continuity of highlife with traditional dirges
rather than an opposition. 'These songs are so popular, because rhey really touch
In this song the possibility of any contact wirh the dead or of a return from death is you, they refer to true feelings. They are just like traditional funeral songs', she said.
explicitly denied. Death is the absolute end of all life on earth (awiase yi mu), so the Indeed, the texts of some dirges provided to me by a friend in Bekwai bear very close
living can never know what afterlife is like. Other songs too stress separation and resemblance to some of the highlife texts on the mother's death Van der Geest pre-
emphasise that after death there is nothing, only misery, sorrow, and despair. 'No sents. I give one of them; the others are similar."
song expresses the idea that death is not the end, thar the deceased will stay on with
us as an ancestor or wil! come back to life as another person. The idea that there is no Meda auierehoo mu oo I am lying in sorrow
return from death is omnipresent' (Van der Geest 1980:161). No solace is derived Maame eei, meda atoerehoo mu oo Oh mother, I am lying in sorrow
from any idea ofliving on in another world or of returning on earth, Dead is dead. Maame nni ho, paapa nni ho, Macher is not there, father is not there,
The same message can be read on some printed ayie ntoma (funeral cloth): Owuo efie ho ab: the home is desolate
ye ya, asamando yenleo - death huns, to asamando we shall not go; owuo dee yebeiou, Meda aioerehoo mu saa I am lying in sorrow so much
na asamando na yenle: - as for death, we shall certainly die, but to asamando we shall Maame eei eei eei! Oh motherl
not go, or owuo akyi ye au/erehoo - afrer death is (only) grief. Another one however Paapa eei eei eei! Oh father!
reads onipa WJzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
baabi kJ, man has a place to go. Eei wo mma resu oo mmobo mmobo Oh, your children are crying sorrowfully
Funerals are an important market for highlife music. Musicians make songs espe- Eei wo mma resu oo, akoda awisia Oh your children are crying, orphans
cially for funerals, sometimes fora specific individual or about their own experience, San bra behu/e wo mma oo Return to look after your children
sometimes more genera!. Highlife musicians are financially dependent on the suc- Maame eei eei eei! Oh mother!
cess of their songs. This means they have to appeal to popular taste and express (Transcription Atta Asare Bediako) (Translarion MdW)
popular feelings. Highlife songs about death are indeed very popular. At every fu-
neral highlife tapes are played loudly and people sing along and dance and wail to Many highlife songs on death address the same therne of the misery of an orphan
the tunes of the songs. Because they are so popular, Van der Geest takes the ideas and in similar words. The following song cited by Van der Geest can, alchough corn-
expressed in the texts as being more in accordance with the real beliefs and feelings posed in the seventies, still be heard at many funerals today.
people have than with the 'official' Akan ideology. 'Highlife songs wil! present a
truer picture of popular beliefs about death than do myths, traditional songs, and MaameAdwoa- NanaAmpadu
modern poetry' (1980: 147, emphasis mine). Oh morher Adwoa, your death pains us and makes us worry.
The opposition berween cosmological ideas as described by 'people who know Your children are weeping.
rradition' and the views as expressed by highlife singers points to the ever present Oh mother Adwoa, what are we to do now?
discrepancy berween official ideology and reality. But I think the picture is more Your children are weeping.
complex than a too hierarchical division between the 'official' view voiced by tradi- Oh mother Adwoa, because you are absent now
tionalists and scholars and expressed in traditional funeral dirges, but in which 'the Your house will be filled with dirt,
people' do not believe, and the 'true beliefs' existing at the grassroots would suggest. and your children will be miserable.
Different discourses that exist next to each other and sometimes intermingle, offer (Van der Geest 1980: 152)
36 Long Live the Dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
More examples will be given later. Here it suffices to say thatthe destructiveness and
torment of death stressed in highlife songs is jiot peculiar to popular music alone.
There rather seems to be a continuity between traditional funeral songs and highlife
as a way of expressing sorrow and dealing with the agony of death.
Moreover, although I fully agree with Van der Geest that 'popular art expressions
much more than either elitist art or traditional art[ ... ] should be regarded as signifi-
cant reflections of what ordinary people think, wish, and fear' (1980: 170), also the
popular view of death seems to be full of contradictions. In locally produced video
movies, another popular art expression, ghost appearances and contact with dead
relatives are a common theme. In Fatal Decision for example, a man who has had a
hand in the death of a woman, Sarah, is later pursued by her spirit. Special effects
make these ghost appearances drama tic events. Meanwhile, Sarah' s son has close
contact with his dead mother. In many other films too, bad characters are troubled
by angty spirits seeking revenge."
Popular depictions of heaven and hell, special effect ghost appearances in video
movies, and scepticism about life after death in highlife songs, all point to that com-
plex of ideas and beliefs about death which lies behind the many practices and
expressions that surround the death of a person. Clearly, there is no single, un-
equivocal discourse with regard to death. Conflicting discourses are constantly in
discussion, even literally, as in radio discussion programmes. The ideas people have
and make use of vaiy with the situation in which they are employed. The inconsis-
tency of this corpus of beliefs makes it flexible and open to practical manipulation
according to individual needs and interests. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The social person: living and dying as a career
The idea of ancestorship may, today, be more a reconfirmation of shared norms and
values concerning good life by actively and collectively remembering esteerned per-
sons than a real fear of the direct influence of dead parents or grandparents. Ancestors
are the guardians of norms and values. As Mends writes, 'the dead are periodically
remembered and their memory is always kept fresh, for they sustain the tribe and its
mores' (Mends 1978: 83). Only those, whose life can serve as an example for others
will, after their death, be rernernbered and respected by the living as reputable people.
Stucki (1995) proposes to view the process of the passage through life, growing old,
dying and becoming an ancestor as a 'career', for which people make choices and
actively make use of social ambiguities. In the process of becoming an ancestor,
elderhood is an essential step. 'Much of the way in which Asante conceptualise
elderhood is a reflection ofwhat it means to be judged as an ancestor' (Srucki 1995: 82).
The Akan concept of apanin, which may be translated as 'eider', is not a matter of
sheer age, hut of authority and status (cf. Van der Geest 1998b). ÏtzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
is a social identity
one acquires by personal qualities and achievements in life. It is thus a flexible con-
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 37
cept and leaves room for manipulation. There is however also a degree of uncer-
tainty in such an understanding of elderhood: not everybody growing old will be
able to attain the position of 'elder' and the accompanying respect and support.
Stucki underlines the importance of individual action and choices and focuses on
the strategies the elderly follow to acquire and retain power and authoriry, and as
such a favourable position as opanin. To become an opanin one must, besides living a
long life, gain honour and respect and prevent any disgrace. To acquire respect and
status, one has to have success in life and this is first of all thought of in terms of
accumulation of wealth and resources and control over people and their labour.
Those who are not able to gain prestige by accumulating wealrh and 'clients' have to
manipulate the norms concerning life career and success to prevent the disgrace of
being classified as 'useless',
ACCUMULATION OF PEOPLE
One of the things that struck me most about the obituary posters announcing
deaths and funerals in town are the numerous names ofindividuals written on it. A
typical obituary poster mentions a whole list of people announcing the death of so-
and-so, followed by a picture of the deceased, his or her full names, and the funeral
arrangements. Then a long list of 'chief mourners', children, grandchildren, nieces,
nephews, uncles, aunts, and other relatives, their places of sojourn and their occu-
pations, fills a big part of the poster. Some names appear twice or even thrice,
among the 'announcers', the 'chief mourners', and some category of relatives. Such
obituaries make clear that a person's social esteem, especially at death, consists
largely of the (number of) people related to him/her. They are an expression of
what Battaglia in her ethnography of mortuary practice in Sabarl Island (Papua
New Guinea) calls 'relational personhood': 'the self defined and experienced
through an array of significant relationships with others, past and present, living
and dead' (Battaglia 1990: 188).
In Asante, as almost anywhere in Africa, what has been termed 'wealth-in-
people', the control of a person over ether individuals' labour, reproduction, and
property, is an important marker of social success. The 'career oflife' therefore con-
sists largely of binding people (nnipa) to oneself. In the first place this means getting
children, raising thern well and holding on to thern. But the accumulation of de-
pendants also entails fostering other people's children, offering patronage, or sup-
porting needy people. This can be clone financially, by the payment of school fees
for example, or by providing food or housing. Building a house or gaining control
over a (family) house are significant in this respect. Many people build a house in the
prospect of providing housing for family members, especially children. So does
J oana. She is not planning to live in her new house herself, at least not in the near
future, hut to let her sons live in it, 'so that the whole family can be rogether.' Many
Ghanaian migrants staying abroad build houses in their hometown so that their
38 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
sisters and other family members can stay there. It is a way of binding people to one-
self by creating reciprocal obligations. • tions. For many, then, migration to the city or abroad is a way to escape from the
Being a person in relation to others always entails the fulfilment of social expecta-
tiens and obligations, living to the rules of reciprocity. I shall comeback to this mat-
ter in the next chapters. The point I wish to make here is chat maintaining strong ties
with dependants is of essential significance for people's preoccupation with a 'fitting
funeral'. Por one's funeral one is dependent upon children and ether kin and organ-
ising a funeral is matter of reciprociry, Children organise a big funeral for their dead
parent in acknowledgement of the care they have received. The family honours a
person wirh a funeral in recognition of his or her contributions to the family well-
being. Ic is at death that, ideally, one's success in building a network of dependants
becomes publidy visible and one' s social esteern is presented. But if one has not been
successful in this respect, ic is at death chat the family tries to mask this failure by
organising a big funeral anyway ( the issue of family interests will be elaborated upon
in the next chapter). zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
AccUMULATION OF WEALTH
Another important criterion of success in life, and thus a condition for being judged
an spanin, is the accumulation of material wealth, Material success in life determines
the respect one receives. Being a sikani, a rich man, is something many people dream
of. McCaskie (1983) makes dear chat in Asante history wealth accumulation has
always been dosely related to culrural identity and cosmological ideas. He stresses
the enduring importance of wealth as an aspect of achievement and authority in
Asante society. Sika, money (gold in the olden days), traditionally has a symbolic
value for the Asante and riches is a high good. For women, and toa lesser extent also
for men, wealth also takes the form of the number and quality of cloths, chat she is
able to collect during her lifecime. Barrels writes chat it is at a woman's funeral chat
all her cloths are displayed to publidy confirm or raise her social status (1990: 66).
Although building up large collections of doths is very common, I have never seen
chose cloths shown at funerals in Bekwai. Cloths presented were always newly
bought (or even hired), and were part of ceremonial exchange berween (groups of)
people (see Chapter 2).
Alrhough wealth is valued, it is not unambiguously good. Ic is only appreciated
when it is distributed and shared among others, Generosity is a highly valued moral
norm. Rich people who do not share in their wealth are acting anti-socially and may
be suspected of witchcraft." Therefore there seems to be an inherent contradiction
in accumulation of people and accumulation of wealth: accumulation of people
entails sharing in one's wealth, This tension between individual achievement and
family obligations is a recurrent problem. Many people experience the demands of
the family as an impediment for individual achievement. As soon as one is (finan-
cially) successful or presumed to be so, everybody comes to get his share. As an Akan
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 39
maxim says: sika fre mogya, money calls blood, or wealrh attracts one's blood rela-
burden of the extended family (see Chapter 3). Material wealth and wealth-in-
people are, however, not necessarily at odds. The accumulation of wealth also en-
ables one to bind people to oneself, as sharing in wealth, of which providing housing
is just one way, always creates obligations. As Stucki puts it: 'the real power of wealth
lies in its use to attract followers and support dependants' (1995: 46). It is in this
sense chat the accumulation of wealth and the accumulation of people go hand
in hand.
Wealth accumulation and redistribution are deeply embedded in the local
habitus and are centra! constituenrs of personhood. The public aspect of ic is crucial,
and especially so at funerals. Ic is at death chat a person's success in life is evaluated
and publidy presented (and often exaggerated) to establish the deceased as a success-
ful person. The more wealth and beauty are exposed, indicating wealth accurnula-
tion, and the more tears are shed, indicating accumulation of people, the beteer the
funeral. The wealth shown at many funerals I attended consisted of a nicely painted
and decorated house, a corpse covered with expensive doch, golden jewellery, and
beads, a large number of children, grandchildren, and other dependanrs wearing
fine doch, and an inexhaustible supply of crates of beer and minerals to be distrib-
uted among the guests. All such things attested to the accomplishments of the
deceased person. 'Funerals provide explicit displays of the ideals of ancestorhood
and the normative structure of generational relations' (Stucki 1995: 23). zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZ
Person, imagery, and memory
The importance of being remembered after death may be a universa! aspect of
human reactions to the end oflife. The necessity of creating images, especially photo-
graphs, to this end is well expressed by the Ghanaian photographer Joseph K. Davies
in the documentary film Future Remembrance by Tobias Wendl and Nancy du
Plessis (1998): 'If you don't photograph yourself and you die, you have died forever.
Nobody will remember you. Nobody will know you.' So although traditional belief
in ancestorship may have become less pervasive, due to christianisation and rnod-
ernisation, the importance ofliving on by way ofbeing remembered by one's family
members and the community is still very strong. Stucki (1995: 120) points to the
'hope chat everybody, especially the younger generations, will remember your
name.' Death can be seen as the transition from being a person in the community to
being remembered as a person by the community. A major preoccupation of people,
and especially of elderly people, is being remembered not just as a person, but as a
successful person. Not surprisingly, one has to meet the same criteria to become an
ancestor as to be remembered as a successful individual. Death is the most crucial
moment for the creation of future remembrance. How you appear at your own
40 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Person and Death: Future Remembrance 4I

funeral will largely determine how you wil! live on in the memory of your people. From Van der Geest's conversations with elderly people (1995) it also appears chat
And in this people depend on their kin to give them a fitting burial and create the elderly Asante, in thinking about death, seem to be more worried about their funeral
necessary images of'person'. than about death itself. They may worry about the state of the house and fee! that
they 'cannot die like this', meaning their corpse cannot be properly displayed in a
THE PERSON LAID IN STATE poorly maintained house. The laying-in-srate ceremony is one of the 'highlights' of a
funeral. The <lead body is at the centre of public attention and evaluation and should
On the last day of my stay in Bekwai, Nana asked me during nkradie, the ritual of say- thus be 'very nice'. Laying a <lead person in state means transforming the body into
ing goodbye, to send her a watch from Holland. 'I need it when I die. I wil! !ie on the an image of beauty and good life.
bed like this .. .' [and she bent backwards and put her arms across her chest) 'and they Usually, shortly after a person has died, the body is washed by (elderly) female
will put thewatch around mywrist and I wil! look 'fine paa' [very fine]!' Da a mawu a relatives and taken to the mortuary. The issue of who is to wash the body or to be
mehia. Meda mpa so saa na yebede wakye bye me nsa mu na ebeye fine paa. I promised present may cause confusion, as an account of a (Ga) funeral in Teshi reveals:
her the watch, but made her promise not to die before I will have returned.
A successful funeral and being laid in state beautifully is a concern of many One of the [deceased's) daughters joined the older women [who were washing the
elderly themselves. The hope of a mother to be laid in state by her children is ex- body) on the porch with her three sisters. The women wanted to know if the
pressed in the following highlife song: daughters knew thern: ifVeronica and her sisters had been sufficiently attending
funerals of other relatives, they would know the older women's names, their histo-
Owuo Deefoi -Alex Konadu Merciless Death ries. The daughters knew their faces, but not much else. So the women cold the
daughters chey could not wacch the bathing ceremony unless they paid a fine.
Owuo deefo:i, owuo konfanko, Merciless death, wicked death, Veronica and her sisters huddled against a nearby wal! and decided they wanted to
wo na wosei adee oo paa, owuo ee. you are a great destroyer, death. pay a $5 fine. The wamen wanted more. The two groups negotiated a payment,
Me maame aun me, run me baako pe, zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
My mother gave birth to me alone, and the daughcers were allowed to watch the ceremony (Buckley 1997).
au/oi biara nka me ho no other child joined me
Na n 'ani da me so se And her hope is on me chat This incident reveals a struggle over the body, whereby the <lead body is more the
me ara na mesie no, I shall bury her, 'properry' of the elders of the family chan of the deceased's children. In Asante this is
na me nso, wo nko ara na mesuro, owuo. but me, I am only afraid of you, death. often equally so.
Agya, medwene oo, owuo ee Father, I am worried, o death People in Bekwai take their <lead to the mortuary hospiral in Kumasi. There the
Mesre wo eda, ma mensie no ansa na I beg you for time, let me bury her before I body is kept in the fridge until preparations for the funeral have been made. This
mewu. die. may take weeks or even months, Some families choose to have their deceased relative
embalmed to keep the corpse even better preserved, but rhis is quite an expensive
Nea obaatan biara pe ne se oun ne ba, Every woman wants to get a child, thing to do. Normally the frozen body is taken from the mortua1y to the family
daakye nouda no, so that on the day she dies, house one day before the burial. Before laying it in state ir is prepared to make it pre-
ideda ne fefeefe akyekyere adosoa s/he wil! lay her out beautifully to show sentable. I once witnessed and assisted in this process. During my first stay in Ghana,
ansa na yesie no. adosoa" when I worked in a village clinic, a very old woman <lied. She was the mother of a
Nea obaasan biara pe no no. before they bury her. good friend of J oana, Yaa, and therefore J oana, being a nurse, offered her friend to
Ade nti me maame aun mea, That is what every woman wants. help her prepare the body. I, as her assistant, went with her to the house, where the
na» me se, daakye obeuru no, So my mother gave birth to me, body ofNanaAkosua was lying on an old piece of cloth in a clark room. I lit a kero-
adeda ne fefeefe so chat when she will die in the future, sene lamp and Joana drove away the children who were peeping through the small
ansa na maste no. I will lay her in state beautifully window. We had to straighten the body, which was a linie difficult, because it was
Nti owuo ee, me sre wo eda, before I bury her. too stiff. Then we used brown day, which we had found outside, to camouflage the
ma mensie no ansa na mewu. So death, I beg you for time, damaged skin on the hands and forearms. These should be presentable, because of
let me bury her before I die. the big golden rings and bracelets that would adorn the body. While we were trying
(Transcription and translation MdW) to find the right colour of day, a quarrel developed between Yaa and her sister, who
42 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
should have bought rwo pieces of clorh to decorate the corpse and had bought only
one. Within a few minutes the room was filled with shouting women. Another
decoration item was brought up: gold dust. În the heat of the struggle Yaa walked
away furiously with a packet of gold dust, which she said she went to bring back,
right now. Joana followed her to calm her and prevent her from boarding the trotro
to Kumasi. Later she explained it to me: Nana Akosua, and for that matter Yaa too,
was relared toa chief somewhere, meaning the family has 'royal blood'. The gold
dust had been sent by this chief, who demanded the body to be rubbed with it, as is
the custom for royals, a sign of royalty. But he also said chat he would not contribute
to the funeral expenses and that Yaa should negotiate a loan to pay for the funeral.
Yaa did not accept this, saying that he sent the gold dust only to show off his own
status. Her sister had agreed to use the gold dust on the body, hut Yaa was deter-
mined to bring it back to that chief.
After J oana had ralked to Yaa, we went back to the family house. The funeral
undertakers had broken Nana Akosua's legs so that they could be straightened. Her
hair was combed and dyed black, and a little lipstick and eyebrow pencil were
applied to her face. For younger women often a lot of make-up and a wig are used,
hut this was not appropriate considering Nana Akosua's high age. A grandson car-
ried the body out of the room were it was still lying to the bed in the next room,
while the funeral undertakers were busy transforming it inro a 'display parlour'.
Nana Akosua's body was wrapped in a beautiful piece of kente cloth. Often, gold
embroidered velvet, and other expensive cloths are used. Men can also be laid in
state in a (hired) suit, and women, especially younger women, in a white wedding
dress. At her wedding, a woman is considered to be most beautiful in her life. A
white Christian wedding is the dream of many young people and the white bridal
gown is the utmost symbol of beauty and good life. Although a woman may never
have married in white, she may be laid in state like a bride. Besides, the colour white,
I was cold, is the colour of new life and joy and symbolises the rebirrh of the deceased
into the next world. Colourful kente, as used on Nana Akosua's body, also comes
under the categoty of 'white' (Bartle 1978: 395).
After laying her on the bed and arranging the cloth, the body ofNana Akosua
was, as befits a lady of her age and status, abundanrly decorated with golden jewel-
lery. A big gold necklace and strings of precious beads were put around her neck.
Several bulky rings and bracelets were put around her wrists and fingers, carefully, so
not to damage the skin again. The gold dust was not used. Men's bodies too are
often decorated with beads and golden jewellety in such a way. Sometimes specific
things symbolising parts of the life of the deceased are used on the body. I once sawa
woman's body decorated with a typical Fante hair-do (a wig). This woman was an
Asante from Bekwai, but she had lived on the coast for a long time. The coastal
Fante wig symbolised that period of her life. A judge whose funeral I attended was
laid in state with his judge's gown put beside him on the bed. Chiefs and sub-chiefs
often have ceremonial swords put on their body to express their chiefly status.
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 43
The bed N ana A.kosua was lying in was a fancy golden bed with china ornaments
and elecrric lights connected to a generator. People who have slept on a mat on the
floor for all their lifetime are laid in state in luxurious beds, hired from funeral
undertakers when they die. Once I saw a dead man laid in state surrounded by doz-
ens of coloured, flickering Christmas lights. New and increasingly popular are cof-
fins that convert inro a bed. Folding down the sides of the coffin makes it a white
satin-clad display platform. To put the body into the coffin, only the si des must be
folded up again. Vety convenient, people explained to me.
Much attention is devoted to decorating the display room. This is usually done
by funeral undertakers who bring their own materials. Many houses have a kind of
alcove or platform at the courtyard especially for the purpose of laying dead people
in state. If such a place lacks a room is used. Often the whole house is painted and
new !ace curtains are hung in front of every room. When there is no electricity yet, ir
may even be connected for the occasion. Eise a generator is hired to provide power
for light and music. Ironically, a freshly painted house with bright lights is often a
sign of death. The walls and the ceiling of the display room are covered with !ace and
kente. Plastic flowers and plants, framed porrrait pictures of the deceased, religious
pictures, and wreaths decorate the room. The bed is standing in the middle so that
people can walk around it. After the body has been removed and buried, people
often leave the room decorated for one more day 'for people to come and look at ir'.
During the laying-in-state ceremony, the dead body is constructed as an image of
good life. It is the showpiece of the celebration. That the image matters much to
people may be clear from the struggles over how to decorate the body, over the
image to be created. The main activities around the displayed body are wailing and
taking pictures or video shots. They should fix the image of riches and beauty, hut
what this image consists of always remains to be negotiated.
THE PERSON IN PICTURES
Photographs abound at most Asante funerals. First, there are the portraits of the
deceased on the obituary posters all over town. Framed pictures of the deceased, and
sometimes of some family members too, are on display in the family house and at
the funeral grounds. Small pictures to be pinned on your cloth or headscarf are dis-
tributed to the guests. Sometimes funeral programmes containing photographs have
been printed and are also distributed. Family members may wear black memorial
T-shirts with a portrait of the deceased printed on it. Others may wear old T-shirts
in memory of a deceased relative. Apart from this, at almost every funeral photogra-
phers, video men, or both are present to cover the ceremonies. They shoot all the
guests present and, most importantly, the corpse. Vety often people asked me,
knowing I had a camera, to snap the dead body. What happens at funerals, then, is
taking pictures of the dead body and displaying pictures of the living body at the
same time.
44 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
An important function of photographs is the realisation of a dead person' s transi-
tion from being a living person to being rernejnbered as a person. Wend! remarks
about photography and rites of passage: 'As a ritualised practice, phorography stands
close to these rites of passage that mark the end of life and thereby reconstitute the
social person in a new way' (Wend! 1998: 4 5, original in German, translation MdW).
Photographs are used at funerals to reconstruct the deceased person in such a way
that s/he can live on in the memories of the living. Before elaborating on this point,
let us look at the use of photographs during lifetime.
Photography farms part of what Wend! calls a 'culture of remembrance' (Er- zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
innerungskultur). People are busy immortalising themselves during their liferime, as
part of their 'carreer' in the prospect of growing older, dying and becoming an an-
cestor. In almost every house a photo album lies on the table in the 'living room'. As
soon as you enter a house to visit someone, you wil! be given the album to glance
through. Such albums contain pictures of family members and friends, usually in
beautiful clothes at special occasions or in photo studios and have become an inte-
gral part of the rirual of the visit, There is no chronology or other logic in the ar-
rangement of the pictures, They are scattered through the album arbitrarily, some
are double (for exchange purposes), or up side down. Pictures have come to serve as
family chronicle and have as such (partially) replaced the oral genealogy. Time and
time again I went through the albums of my grandrnothers with thern. This proved
to be a very effective means of eliciting family relations and hisrory. Yaa Mansah's
album contains black-and-white pictures of herself when she was young, many pic-
tures of her daughter and grandchildren in the us, pictures of other relatives and
pictures of church events, marriages, and funerals. On the foreheads of the people in
the album who have died in the course of time, she has drawn a !itrle cross.
Nana did not have an album, bur kept her photographs in an envelope. She was
very delighted when I gave her an album and she showed me her pictures again and
again, indicating her relationship to all persons portrayed. Her rwo dearest picrures,
however, she keeps in a box. Ït are rwo old black-and-white pictures of her mother
and her eldest brother, enlarged and 'framed' on a piece of cardboard. The picture of
her mother was taken not long before she died. Nana explained: 'She didn't want to
be phorographed at all, but we, the children, we wanted to have her picture for when
she would die. She was old, you see. So then my brother called someone to come and
take the picture and we made her sit down on this chair, here at home. Because of
that, she is still with me now.' When I was taking pictures of everybody in the house
before I lefr to the Netherlands, she asked me to snap-her mother and her brother too.
Besides keeping pictures in an album, many people have framed pictures on the
walls or on the floor in their 'living room'. Whereas an album mainly contains pic-
. tures ofloved ones, a person's room is often decorated with her or his own enlarged
portraits. J oana, for example, has five big size photographs of herself on display in
her room, one ofherself and her husband, and one of her deceased father. Such pic-
tures are not mere decoration; they area person's own strategie contribution to his
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 4S
or her future funeral. This became clear to me when Akyeampomaa gave me an old
picture of herself as a young woman. She wanted to have it enlarged and framed in
the N etherlands, 'because there the quality is better, so that when I die, and they wil]
do my funeral, they wil! put it here, at the courtyard, and it will be very beauriful.
And when Kofi's [her son's] child wil! ask his father "where is grandma?" he wil!
show him this picture and say "here is grandma. "'
This process of self-immortalisation, initiated by a person while alive, culminates
in the funeral practices performed by the family members after his or her death,
when a portrait of the deceased becomes almost like an object of religious worship
(cf. Wend! 1998: 46). They do not just display framed pictures, but dance towards
thern, address them, and carefully pass them on. In the video made of Agnes
Ankobiah's funeral (see introduction}, a still of her portrait, displayed on a lace-clad
chair in the centre of the courtyard, is repeatedly edited berween shots of relatives
and guests, and special effects are used to mix her portrait with shots of her mother.
Apart from using a beautiful framed photograph to create a kind of altar during
the funeral celebrations, a picture is chosen to print posters, funeral invitations,
programmes, calendars, and newspaper obituaries. The obituary posters in town
with the porrraits of the dead stay on the walls until sun, wind, and rain have made
thern perish. This may take a few rnonths to a year, depending upon the quality of
the paper and the glue used. The obiruary photographs in The Pioneer, an Asante
weekly, fill pages (see Chapter 4). Akyeampomaa showed me her collection of
funeral programmes, about forty in five years time. She keeps thern carefully in a
box, bur cannot read the texts. It is the picrures on the covers and inside rhat matter
to her and remind her of the persons concerned. A person's portrait may also be
printed on T-shirts to be worn by the family on an appointed day during the funeral
celebrations, handkerchiefs to be used in dancing and in church, or, in case of a rich
family, special memorial cloth. Sometimes even all kinds of nicknacks like buttons
and battle-openers with a small picture of the deceased are produced. All these
things are distributed among relatives and others for thern to keep as a memory.
Lasrly, photographs or paintings after photographs on used tombstones, usually
made one year after the death. Many of the tombs at the Bekwai cemetery display
porrraits of the dead, either painted, in relief, or as a photograph. In the film Future
Remembrance, too, attention is paid to the making of a representation of the de-
ceased to be pur on the grave in the form of a statue or a large painring, which is
cheaper. In bath cases a photograph of the living person is used as an example. Ma-
terial symbols of a person's life, such as working tools or chiefly regalia, are then
added to the image. The sculptors in the film express great concern for resemblance
as wel! as for the beauty of the image they create. 'What we want is beauty, it must
look attractive' one of thern says. Another important aspect of visual representations
of the person on the grave is their relative immunity to time. 'Coffins [which some-
times also depict things of a person's life, see Chapter 4) are only permanent in
photographs, whilst tomb paintings last forever.'
 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
46 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
AGNES ANKOBIAH LYING IN STATE
After death a person is photographed or filmed for the last time, when s/he is lying in
state. In taking such post-rnortem pictures particular attention is paid to the decora-
tiens of the corpse, the bed, and the room. A photographer in Future Remembrance
expresses it as follows:
'They [the relatives] will love to stand by the bedside just to have a photograph to
prove how the body was wel! decorated. This serves as a memory. We in our cul-
ture, we normally take interest in the dead person, more than the live ones. So
when someone dies, people try to put up their maximum. As for future rernern-
brance.'
Post-rnortem pictures zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
fix the image of the displayed corpse, the image of beauty,
success, and good life projected on the body of the deceased. Family members keep
the pictures and the videotapes as a memory, to look at once in a while or to show to
visitors, and send thern to relatives and friends abroad who were not able to attend
the funeral.
The image of the person thus produced transcends boundaries of time and space.
In contrast to a living person, the image of a person travels easily across great dis-
tances, circulates among many people and is present everywhere at the same time.
Moreover, the image does not change with time as a living person does. The image
of a person is a static, fixed image. Wend! comments on death and image that 'to dis-
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 47
pel the terror of death, the cultures of the world have always interpreted and framed
it, displaced and inflated it, and ultirnately put up the image against the wounds chat
it left behind: the image that honours the dead and passes on the afterworld, the
image as a substitute for what has been lost and at the same time as a sign of this loss'
(1998: 46, original in German, translation MdW). A photograph is thus always a
pseudo-presence of the dead person and a sign of the absence of the living person at
the same time.
THE PERSON BEWAILED
The theatrical wailing and weeping of wamen around the bed in which the dead
body is laid out strikes a Western visitor. The drarnatic expression of emotions, the
noise of screaming, and the uncontrolled body movements are, for many West-
erners, not compatible with the solemn occasion of death. In Ghana, however, cry-
ing vehemendy, lamenting loudly, dancing wildly, drinking liberally, and behaving
madly are proper ways of showing how much one is affected by the loss of a person
(see also Chapter 3). But not only is this way of expressing one's feelings considered
appropriate, public wailing is also socially expected, required even. How surprised I
was when during one of the first funerals I attended the woman sitting next to me
stood up and said Tm going to cry, 1'11 be back immediately' irnereessu, mereba sesei
ara). She went to the middle of the place and started weeping and lamenting as if she
could never stop again. Then, after five minures, she stopped as suddenly as she had
started, returned to her place and said to me 'I have finished' (mawie). In the event I
described at the beginning of this chapter, the wamen asked me to 'wait til! we are
ready' and when they were ready, they went to cry. As soon as I had taken the pic-
ture, they stopped and wem to sit down again. Such incidents make clear that tears
are not only personal; they are first and foremost social (cf. Van der Geest 1990).
T ears are part of the cultural pattern of rules about funeral behaviour. They can be
evoked when they are expected, produced when one needs thern. Whenever I left
home to attend a funeral, the people in my house would ask me 'wobt:su?', wil! you
cry? Crying is something one intends to do.
By pointing out that crying is socially expected and tears can be evoked, I am not
saying that the emotions people express are not real, or chat their tears are not genu-
ine. People do have feelings of deep grief, of course. The point is chat, as Van der
Geest (1990: 63) remarks, just as the rules indicate how to express one's grief, they
also indicate how to conceal one's real feelings. At Dutch funerals the distinction
between those who swallow their grief and those who don't fee! any griefbecomes
blurred. The cultural tears at Ghanaian funerals make that one never knows who is
really affected by the death and who is not. Apart from that, people aften make use
of the mournful atmosphere and the sight of a dead body to cry for other deceased
loved ones. Obi ayie ase na JESU yen ni, 'at the funeral of another person we mourn
our rnother', Asante say. People told me this after I had experienced it myself and
48 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
calked about ic with others. At the funeral of George Baffour, the 28 year old nephew
of my grandmother Yaa Mansah, the thought of my friend Roos in the Netherlands,
who had not so long before <lied in an accident at about the same age in my absence,
and the crying crowd surrounding me, made my tears start flowing easily. I had
never known George personally, I had never even met him, but at his funeral I cried.
I cried for Roos, but also for George, for his brothers and sisters, for his friends, for
his parents, and for Yaa Mansah. It was the first time I participated in weeping
around the corpse and it was at chat moment chat I feit and understood chat tears
evoked can definirely be real.
Although many people stressed chat it is important to express one's emotions and
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
not keep thern inside, it may be clear chat crying at funerals is culturally appropriate ry is a perpetually actual phenornenon, a bond rying us to the eternal present; his-
behaviour as much as an expression of personal emotions. The fact chat weeping in
public is considered more appropriate for women chat for men, only underlines this
cultural aspect. An outright denial of the need to express one's personal grief is the
taboo for parents to cry when they have lost a child. As I described above, when a
child dies, the parents, however deeply grieved, are not allowed to shed even one tear
in public. When they are crying, people urge rhern to stop, because else 'the spirits
will come and cake another one.' One shouldri't mourn a <lead child, but forget the
death as soon as possible and focus on the living children. I found ic hard to under-
stand chat in a sociery where expression of grief is so prominent and so much valued,
the deepest feeling of grief one may have, namely at the loss of a child, one must not
express. Thinking and calking about this paradox, however, led me to the irnpor-
tance of rernernbrance, and for chat matter forgetting, and to the close link between
crying and remembrance. Not crying is supposed to make one forget; crying makes
one remember.
This association between crying and remernbrance, then, clarifies why it is so
important chat, in case of an adult person, people cry at his/her funeral. Whereas the
activities following the death of a child are all directed at forgetting, a funeral of an
adult person is meant to create remembrance. Wailing and weeping, as part of the
funeral, prove chat the deceased was someone special. T ears make the life of the
deceased important, maybe even more important than it actually was. They show
chat the deceased has, during his lifetime, been able to bind people to himself, peo-
ple who come to his funeral to mourn his death. Tears and lamentations thus make a
funeral successful; they make the <lead person a successful person and that is how
s/he will be remembered. The family of the deceased may even hire professional
mourners to come and cry at the funeral (see Chapter 4). The more tears, the beteer
the funeral.
This cultural meaning of weeping, makes it easily understandable why filming
and photographing weeping people around the bed is so common and much appre-
ciated, something which often surprised people in the Necherlands when I cold
thern. In the Netherlands, as in many other Western countries, crying in public is
something to be ashamed of and thus not to be photographed, especially not by
Person and Death: Future Remembrance 49
scrangers. In Ghana, pictures and video fix the tears chat mark the successful life of
the deceased and are thus much welcomed by the family.
THE PERSON REMEMBERED
Commenting on the difference berween memory and hisrory, Nora clarifies chat:
'Memory is life [ ... ] Ic remains in permanent evolution, open to the dialectic of
remembering and forgetting [ ... ], vulnerable to manipulation and appropriation.
[ ... ] History, on the other hand, is the reconstruction ofwhat is no longer. Memo-
tory is a representation of the past. Memory [ ... ] only accommodates chose faccs
chat suit it [ ... ]. History [ ... ] calls for analysis and criticism. Memory enstalls
remembrance within the sacred; hisrory, always prosaic, releases it again. [ ... ]
Memory takes its root in the concrete, in spaces, gestures, images, and objects' (Nora
1989: 8-9, emphasis mine).
I have shown in the previous paragraphs chat it are the spaces, gestures, images, and
objecrs at an Asante funeral celebration chat create the memory (nkaee) of the per-
son. The use of the spaces of the family house and the display room, tears and ges-
tures of grief, pictures of the deceased person, of the body lying in state, and the
over-all image of the celebration, objects of wealch and beauty, all contribuce to the
person remembered. A written biography of the deceased person, a praccice I shall
pay attention to in Chapter 5, is more what Nora calls history, a reconstruction of
what is no Jonger, a representation of the past, an analysis.
I have proposed to see the passage from life to death as a transition from being a
living person in the community to being remembered as a person by the commu-
nity. A rite of passage must make this transition possible, a rite which consists of the
kinds of practices, attributes, and images I have described chat create the fucure
remembrance of the deceased person. But this is a particular kind of memory. It is
not so much the person as a person chat is remembered, but the person as an image.
Siegel makes chis point very clear. He argues chat 'Javanese funeral phorography
operates against memory: it is the person as an image, and not the person connected
with memories ofhim chat survives' (1986: 260). Although Ido not want to contra-
dict this statement, looked at it from the Ghanaian perspective, the aim of photogra-
phy is exact!y the opposite. People make idealised images of chemselves in the hope
chat this image does stay connected to their person in the memory of rheir relatives.
Still, the image created is a statie, fixed image. 'Death brings with it a degree of re-
spect and idealisation of the deceased chat s/he was unlikely to have gotten by birth
or achievement' (ibid.: 261).
While Siegel uses this fixation of an ideal image to explain the absence of grief in
Javanese funerals, which clearly cannot be said of Asante funerals, the same kind of
50 Long Live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

idealisation applies to the Asante practices of deco rating the body and taking photo-
CHAPTER 2 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTS
graphs. Family members of the deceased persqn like to show appreciation to the
spirit of the dead. The decoration of the body not only is a final sign of respect, bur
constitutes the future memory of the deceased. This memory must consist of an
image of beaury and perfection, for that is how the deceased person wil! live on. Family and Death:
Therefore the relatives like their photographs being taken at the bedside of the dis-
played corpse, 'to show how wel! the body was decorated, as a memory.' The con-
'Abusua D:J Funu'
struction of images of the body is the production of memory of the person.
Battaglia also concentrates on the aspect of person and memory in her ethnogra-
phy of mortuary feasts in Sabarl Island.

Mr. George Owusu Agyeman has <lied. Because he was a royal to the Bekwai stool,
'On one level at least, segaiya [the series of mortuary feasts) actually elicits the story
his funeral is held in front of the palace. On Saturday afternoon, February 6th, I go
of the meaning and "value" of the dead to their society. But at the same time a new,
to the funeral grounds with my Dutch sister Ama. All members of Owusu Agye-
edited image ofthe person-a collectively, but ultirnately "felt" memory of the dead
rnan's large family are dressed in plain red cloth. A group of elderly family members
as an absence delineated by the collectivity of relationships expressed and enacted
is sitting togerher behind and nexr to the donation table. The widow, clad in black,
concerning it - is being constructed" out of respect" for that person' s past comribu-
is sitting next to rhern, On the other side are the children of Owusu Agyeman. They
tions to society. It is this process that gives someone '.r memory a new and usefalfature
are sitting on the ground with their legs stretched forward and are traditionally
as an ancestor. Remembrance, then, as a "productiviry" of memory, is a strategy for
dressed in a red piece of cloth draped over their shoulders and a black hip doch,
overcoming furiliry' (Battaglia 1990: 10, emphases mine).
black rubber sandals and headbands adorned wirh cowry shells. Other (female)
family members are busily walking around serving all the guesrs. Everybody has his
This process of editing a new image of the person is the same process of idealisation
task in the performance of the funeral. The image is one of family solidarity, co-
Siegel points to. But memory also entails forgetting. Eves comments on this in his
-operation and unity, The main event during the celebration is the presentation of
book The Magical Body. 'In this process of forgetting there is a redefinition of the
adekyeredee ('show items'), gifts of the 'in-laws' to the family of the deceased. A line
relationship between the living and the dead, entailing erasure. Since it is engaging
of women shows the presents to the public and another woman announces thern
in acts of sociality with others thar makes a person, when this capaciry ends the per-
through the microphone: three golden pots with decorated bordes, three bowls wirh
son is erased or 'finished'. [ ... ] the concern is not solely with forgetting but also
cloths, royal sandals, and bottles of schnapps, five crates of minerals and beer, a
with renewal in that new memories wil! be created during the feasting process (Eves
white ram with a red ribbon around his neck, and a plate with big golden necklaces
1998: 235-36). The person as a social being, with its mistakes, irritations, tensions, is
and strips of kente. These necklaces are called aioisiads Corphan's love') and are pre-
somehow forgotten. A new kind of person, a person to be remembered, is created.
sented to the children, who lost their father, by rheir husbands and wives as a sign of
And in this process the reality of everyday life is transcended and the imagination is
consolation, The necklaces are put around the necks of the children and then some-
called upon. The space of imagination generates idealised images of good life.
thing happens. Two video men are recording the scene and Ama asks one of the
Images of wealth and riches, of beauty and perfection, of people accumulated.
family members we know wel! for permission to film this event. This is gramed
These desires and imaginations are projected on the body of the deceased. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ït is espe-
without any objection, but when she starts filming, the widow gers angry and urges
cially the body of the deceased, more than the bodies of the living, which provides
her to stop. This surprises me, because people always like to be filmed or photo-
the material for the embodiment of imagination, because it is in a liminal state
graphed at funerals. Of course, Ama immediately stops, but the next day, after the
between being alive and being remembered and therefore freed from the bounda-
thanksgiving service, an argument develops between J oana and the widow. Ama
ries of everyday existence.
apologises and explains that she had been given permission by the family, but the
widow doesn't accept her apologies and says to Joana: 'they take it to Europe to
As I have already touched upon in the course of this chapter, a person is always a
show their people how my children are sitting on the floor like bush people!' The
person in relation to others. In the next chapter I shall take a look at the primary unit
small event develops inro a big case with a lot of people mingling in. The widow and
of social organisation and identity, the (extended) farnily, and its relation to death.
the children shout ar joana and us and some ether family members take our side and
say they shouldn't be so troublesome. When I later recount the incident to my
52 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Family and Death: 'Abusua D1 Funu'
53
grandmother Yaa Mansah, her reaction is meaningful. Thursday it had surprised me
that Yaa Mansah, who is also a member of the royal family and usually attends every hers, caring for older family members, contributing to family events, and assisting
funeral in town, had not been to the laying-in-stare and the burial ceremonies. Sar- needy relatives. At the head of the lineage as a polirical unit stands the abusuapanin,
urday she also wouldn'r attend the funeral rites and when I asked her why, she said the head of the family. He, or in some cases she, represents the fami!y in official
'asem kakraka WzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
J ho (there is a big problem), hut didn't want to explain more. Now
affairs, manages family property, is finally responsible for the well being of the fami-
ly, and judges in family matters. Ritually, the abusuapanin acts as the intermediate
she says: 'ioahu? Akasakasa W J ho. Abusua yi nye', you see? There is quarrelling. This
between the living and the <lead members of the family by pouring libation on fami-
family is not good.
ly ceremonies. Although Christians may take the ritual of pouring libation to the
This incident made me realise that when talking about families and funerals,
family ancestors less seriously, it is still widely practiced, especially on funeral occa-
there are always rwo sides to take into account: the publicly presented image of col-
sions, and experienced as an act of respect.
lective sharing and unity and the tensions that may arise behind this ideal image. In
Kinship extends far beyond the group of relatives one actually knows to comprise
this chapter I will concentrate on the following questions. How does a family consti-
the whole clan (abusua kesce, large family) of all persons descending from a com-
tute and present itself during a funeral celebration? What kinds of conflicts are play-
mon, mythical ancestor, and thus 'sharing the same blood'. Every Asante belongs to
ing a role behind the screen? zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
one of the eight clans. Although the actual blood relation between members of the
same clan is mostly very far or unknown, they are regarded as brothers and sisters
and are therefore not allowed to marry each other. At present this rule is not always
The abusua
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
observed, hut the idea of clan brotherhood is still experienced in pracrice, In Bekwai,
as in many towns, several clans have formed associations. Such associations are
Asante society is organised around matrilineal kin groups, the mmusua (sing. abusua).
mainly meant for mutual assistance and promotion of clan group interests, hut also
The abusua consists of all persons related through the mother's bloodline. The chil-
apart from the official clan associations clan membership is still significant for many
dren of a man thus do not belong to his own family. The children ofhis sister, on the
people. Again, this is especially so at the occasion of death and funerals.
ether hand, do. This extended family forms the basic unit ofidentity and of social or-
The marriage (awaree) bond berween husband and wife is often perceived as less
ganisation. A person is always seen as part ofhis or her family. One's family fora large
strong than the honds they have with their own family. Obligations to the family are
part determines one's individual status and esteem. Somebody without a family
not altered by marriage. Husband and wife often don'r live togerher, hut stay in their
would be nobody. Knowing one's family history and knowing the names of impor-
own hometown or with family elsewhere. They both manage rheir own finances and
tant ancestors in the family is therefore essential for 'being someone'. The most tan-
most women work to earn their own income. Many women I talked to expressed the
gible point of reference for the abusua is the family house in the hometown of the
view that marriage is primarily necessary for getting and raising children, hut as soon
family. The members of the family may be spread all over the world; they have a com-
as the children are grown up, or even earlier, they prefer to be independent and stay
mon foothold in the hometown and the family house. The importan.ce of the family
with their family. 'Mabre awaree', I am tired of marriage, they said. Divorce
house is clear during funerals, when it is often clone up and decorated.
(awareegyaee) is quite common and nota shame. Many divorced women, especially
The social structure of the abusua is based on norms of intergenerational reci-
elderly wornen, were in face proud that they could now mind their own business
procity, social acceptation, and family solidarity. The abusua is not only the funda-
without being harassed by a man. This confirms Bartle's observation that 'conjugal
mental unit of kinship; it is also the basic economie, political, and ritual unit (cf.
residence must be viewed as merely a stage of a domesric cycle which is only part of
Vollbrecht 1978: 126). Economically, 'the lineage, abusua, is ] ... ] a properry-owning
an overall matrilineal organisation' (1983: roa). Recent!y, emphasis is gradually shift-
corporation with corresponding rights and obligations' (Arhin 1994: 309). Being
ing from the abusua to the nuclear family (I shall come back to this development
part of a family means sharing responsibilities and fulfil obligations. Abusua ye dom,
later). The responsibility of a father in the upbringing of his own children, then,
says an Akan proverb, the family is like an army, meaning that the family is extended
may conflict with the responsibilities he has towards his own abusua, especially the
and has a wide range of support systems to make for efficient functioning. Family
children of his sisters. The main duty of the father is to pay the school fees; most
mernbership, however, is highly fluid and subject to negotiation and reinterpreta-
ether expenses rest on the shoulders of the mother and her family. Although a mari's
tion (cf. Berry 20m). Like the properry relations implied in thern, family ties are
children do not belong to his abusua, they are important, and especially so in his old
continually in the making, most critically, as I will show, during funerals. Family
age. Joana once told me, after we had visited an old and neglected man in Trede: 'we
membership is defined by a network of obligations. These obligations may concern
have a problem in Asanre: the men often don't take their responsibilities as father,
assisting in the education of children, providing accommodation for family mem-
with the resulr chat when they are old, rheir children also don'r care for thern. This
54 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu'
55 zyxwvutsrqponm
man too, he left his children with the mother, and now they don't care about him.
[ ' Alm a Agyapornaa
They even stay in the village here.' This has cop.sequences for the funeral a man will
!
Kwalm Akomea
get, because although the responsibility for the funeral is with the abusua, the contri-
butions of the wife, children and grandchildren are significant and help make a great
I Kwabena Gyira Maame Dufie* (Bekwai)
/',. Ewureku* (Bekwai)

funeral. o AdwoaDufie
/',. Kwaku Fosu
o Maame Agyapomaa
NANA AKOSUA AGYAPOMAA AND HER FAMILY
Î Afua Akyaa (Accra)

My grandrnother in Bekwai, Nana Akosua Agyapomaa, considers herself an aberewa, A Nana Boakye (Accra) /',. Patrick Tawiah (Kumasi)
an old lady. By this she means that she has attained the stage in life where she does Tawiah
o Adwoa Agyapomaa
not have to support ethers anymore, but is in turn allowed to rely on her relatives. Joana Gyau (Trede) (Bekwai)
When I asked her about her age, she said 'I don't know, they didn't teil me. Ask ~ ~/',. Ben Gyau (Kumasi)
Mark Gyau (Odaho) /',. Evens Gyau (Kumasi)
Joana, she will know.' Nana is 72, the last bom of her rnother's ten children. Now, /',. 'Soldier'* (Kwasi
/',. Stephen Frimpong
she and her brother Soldier, who lives with her in the house, are the only two left. Manuh) (Bekwai) (Trede) zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZ
F rom what N ana told me about the family relations and hisrory, I have tried to make
Î Ama Konama (Kumasi) /',. Francis Gyau (Trede)
a family tree (see Table 2). Nana's eldest brother, Kwabena Gyira, built the family
house. He was, and is still referred to sometimes as the abusuapanin, the head of the A Gyau /',. Kwame (Accra)
family, but he died some years ago. His daughter Maame Dufie, named after his Kwabena Bio
rnother, also lives in the house with her two-year-old son Ewureku.
À YawNsiah
î [
/',. Kwabena* (Bekwai)
t 14-08-'98 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
O Martha (Bekwai)
'Soldier' (Kwasi Manu) is the second of the siblings. Nana told me that he went
to fight in GambiaduringtheSecond World War, and when he carne back 'his head
Adwoa Dufie ... o Nana Dufie (Kumasi)
was not good', ne tiri nye. Joana told me more about Soldier.
o Yaa Brefi (USA)
Kwadwo Nsiah
'During his lifetime, Soldier went out to travel around, to marty and to spend his
/',. Kofi Wadie (Ivory Coast)
money outside, to enjoy life. When he gor older and his money got finished, he o Akosua Nyama (Obuasi)
Kof Nyame t '89 Adoma* (Bekwai) /',. Boadi (Obuasi)
carne back home to the family for support. His soldier' s pension of crooo a day is
not sufficient, so before the end of the month his money is finished, because apart Akosua Agyapomaa* Yeboah (Obuasi) O Kyeipornaa" (Bekwai)
(Bekwai)
from food, he also needs soap, clothes, and ether petty things. He never contrib-
o Nana Akua (Accra) o Venus* (Bekwai)
uted anything to the family, because he always was away, and now the family has to 0

take care ofhim. That's why Nana always fights with him. Anything you give to
Nana, she wil! have to share it with him. We don't even know his children. They
I /', . Akyeampong (Kumasi)

may be three or four. Nana said they carne to the house once and they said they
would comeback later, but they never carne. They may be in Kumasi, but we don't
know thern. So we have a problem with Soldier, because when he dies, we can't f
Yaa Mansah (Bekwai)
'l"----------+-1'> .
... (Bekwai)
to
o Joana (usx)
(Kumasi) zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPON
(Kumasi)
/',. Kwasi (Bekwai)
trace his children and the family wil! have to pay for the coffin and the whole

!
Baffour (Bekwai)
funeral. He is about 90 now. For someone like Soldier, we organise a small funeral, "' George Baffour t 3-u-'98
because not many people will come to contribute, And even those who carne will ... (Bekwai)

carne for us, the family, and nor for Soldier himself. When you organise a funeral o Afua Kuffour (Bekwai)
you always have to calculate how many people will come and conrribute. If you
don't estimate it well, you will incur a debt.' * staying in the family house in Bekwai

TABLE 2 AKOSUA AGYAPOMAA'S FAMILY TREE

56 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Soldier is, according to Joana, an example of an stemanmuhunu (lit. he stays in the
country without use), an eider being classified.as useless, because he never contrib-
uted anything to the family and moreover, ne tiri nye. his head is not good.
When Kwabena Gyira died, the third brother Kwabena Bio inherited the position
of abusuapanin, because Soldier could not take the responsibiliry. This man also died
on August 14th 1998, just before I moved to Bekwai. Joana explains: 'Kwabena Bio
has worked very hard for all his life. Soldier just went to enjoy life and that's why his
body is stronger. He didn't work hard. So Kwabena Bio, although he is younger than
Soldier, he died earlier.' After two brothers and four sisters who all died very young
co mes Akosua Agyapomaa. She inherited, for lack of a suitable male, the position of
abusuapanin and fiewura (house owner, landlord) from her brother Kwabena Bio.
Nana has nine children, out ofwhom, Nyame adom (by the grace of God), no one
died, seven daughters and two sons. She said that because she is her mother's only
daughrer, God has blessed her with so many daughters, to guarantee the continuiry of
the family. Almost all her children have migrated from Bekwai. Two daughters stay
in Accra, two in Kumasi, and one in Aburokyire,' but in which particular country she
doesn't know. Joana, the second daughter, tells me her sister is in the us. Joana her-
self stays in Trede, a village nearby and another daughter, Adoma, stays with her
mother in Bekwai. One son is held to be in 'Frenchi' (Ivory Coast), but Nana has no
contact with him and complains that he is 'not good'. She doesn't like talking about
him. Her other son stays in Accra. His wife died and now his nine-year-old son
Kwabena stays with his grandmother in Bekwai. He doesri't know his mother is dead.
Migrants are expected to return for visits and to support their mother, but sorne-
times realiry is different from what is perceived as the norm. The ideal of close family
solidarity and strong interdependence, the way 'the African family' is often depicted,
is not always found in practice, It surprised me that Nana has no contact with her
children abroad. Of all the children it is only the eldest sister who is in contact with
the sister in the us. Nobody knows anything of the brother in IvoryCoast. Joanasays
the family once sent him money to enable him to come home, but he went back soon
and never sent any message again. But also the children in Accra do not often come to
their hometown Bekwai to visit their mother, a trip of only three to four hours.
Moreover, they do not send her money to buy food and clothing. Nana does not talk
much about this situation, it seems a source of shame for her, but when she does she
complains with indignation: 'Asanteioo des, yenhuie aberewa', as for the Asante people,
they don't look after the old lady. Interestingly, she makes a genera! statement here
applying to all Asante. She does not just express a personal experience, which contra-
diets genera! norms offamily care (as expressed in numerous proverbs), but makes it a
genera! truth of the same level. Her words express a fear related to the Asante obses-
sion with a fitting burial, the ultimate form of care for which one, especially a
wornan, depends on one's children. So although 'traditionally speaking, in Ghana
the bond between parent and child does not weaken after the child's marriage and it
is this continuiry of relationships with the extended family throughout the individ- zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
•
Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 57
ual's life which affords some form of securiry in old age' (Apt 1996: 21), this is by no
means always self-evidenr and unproblematic. The case ofNana's family makes very
clear that 'migrarion causes separation of family members including and especially
the aged, creates gaps in the remaining family structure and reduces the volume and
intensiry of social interaction berween generations' (ibid.: 37).
When walking around town with Nana, she often pointed out numerous ether
brothers and sisters to me. This confused me at first, because I thought that Soldier
and she were the only two left of all the children of her rnother. At a funeral of a
young man,' it became clear to me. The mother of the boy wore white cloth, because
it was the first time she had lost a child isodoo. see Chapter 1). To my surprise, my
grandmother also wore white at the funeral and sat close to the mother. When I
asked her why, she answered that the mother was her sister and she was hel ping her.
'What kind of sister?' I asked her. 'She is an Ekuona', she said. Now I understood
that all her brothers and sisters are members of the same Ekuona clan. Nana took this
occasion to tel1 me about our clan, because being considered her daughter's daugh-
ter, I also belang to her clan. Only she had not told me before. The Ekuona clan is
the clan of the buffalo. The buffelo is the totemic anima! of the clan and refers to the
clan's origin myth. The EkuonafoJ (members of the Ekuona clan) are also called
ahtoenee nanalmma, (grand)children of the beads. You can often recognise them by
the precious beads they wear, especially at official clan occasions. At funerals of
important clan members the clan presents itself as a group, with everybody wearing
beads and a handkerchief with a buffalo printed on it. The clan representative carries
the clan staff with a buffalo with a red ribbon around his neck and the clan people sit
together under a red flag with the words 'Ekuona abusua kuo, ahioenee mma,
Ekuona clan association, children of the beads.
THE FAMILY HOUSE
The family house (abusua fie) where Nana stays is called aburuburo nkosua fie ('the
3
eggs of a dove' house) and was built by her eldest brother. It is a compound house
with a big inner courtyard, ten rooms facing the courtyard and three more facing the
street and sharing a veranda. When Nana's husband with whom she stayed died in
1989, she was sent away from the house by his family and came to live in her
brother's house. Her mother lived in the room next to hers, until she died in the
early nineties. The current fiefoJ (the people of the house) are ten, plus some chil-
dren. Some rooms are occupied by family members, others are rented out to tenants,
Nana is the house eider, the fiewura. Soldier lives in one of the rooms facing the
street. He is cared for by Nana and ethers in the house. His sister cooks for him, but
keeps complaining that he wanders around town all the time, spends his money on
drink, and is not responsible. He lives of a small soldier's pension, ct30,ooo a month,
which WJfaAtta gers for him at the bank and Nana keeps for him. Adoma, Nana's
daughter, lives in the house with her daughter Kyeipomaa. Her other two children
58 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 59

stay with her husband, who lives in Obuasi and co mes once in a while. Adoma sells of a child cannot reach the shelf, nor can the hand of the eider get through the neck
plantain in the marker. During my stay in Bekwai she was pregnant and just before I of the gourd on the shelf.' Adults, elderly, and children depend upon one another,
left she gave birth to a girl, Venus. Nana's grandson Kwabena, who is under her Elderly people are a source of experience and pass on their skills and morals to the
direct tutelage, goes to school and does some household chores for N ana, like sweep- children. They assist the adults in taking care of the children, while the parents are
ing, fetchingwater and emptying the dustbin. WJfaAtta is no direct family, but he is away. Children in turn provide company for the elderly and, depending upon their
of the same clan and Nana sees him as her son. He comes from a village in the neigh- age, may help in the household. Adults provide economie support for both the chil-
bourhood, has a tailor workshop in town and rents a room in the house. He assists dren and the elderly. The traditional family system is an informal care system based
Nana in her organisational duties as head of the family. His wife lives one street fur- on both short term and long term reciprocity. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIH
ther. Maame Dufie, a daughter of the man who once built the house, lives there with
her son Ewureku. She makes doughnut halls, which she sells in front of the house.
Sometimes her husband comes to visit her. Sister Ama is a tenant. She is a Fanti from A death in the family
Swedru and lives with her stepdaughter Adwoako. She makes ice creams, which she
and Adwoako sell on the street. 'Tailor' is also a tenant. He owns a sewing machine The following highlife song by Nana Tuffour was very popular at funerals during
and works as a tailor in the house. the time of my stay in Bekwai and expresses the tragedy of a death in the family and
Actually the house consists of several small households. Everybody has an own the feeling that a deceased relative, especially a parent, is irreplaceable.
water reservoir, an own stove, pots and pans, and an own dustbin. The women in the
house pound their own fa.fa, or cook their own other meals, but share some of their Owuo sei fie- Nana Tuffour Death destroys a home
food among the children. The male tenants usually go and eat with their wife or
somewhere else. There are three 'bathroorns' in the house and it is strictly determined Yadeda wo fefeefe yi a You have been laid in state beautifully
who should use which bathroom. Also the use of the toilet is strictly regulated. Only Yasiesie wo se ayeforo yi They have decorated you like a bride
WJfaAtta is entitled to use the toilet ofwhichhe keeps the keyand forwhich he pays. Na mefre wo a wommua me yi But when I call you, you dori'r answer me
The others go to the public toilet some few hundred metres away, Nana too. Maame eei na wogyaa me sen nie aa Oh rnother, how are you leaving me behind?
Nana forms a household with her daughter Adoma, her brother Soldier, and the Yadeda wo fefeefe yi a You have been laid in state beaurifully
grandchildren Kwabena (9) and Kyeipomaa (7). She shares her room, and her bed, Yaka wo ma agu wo bJ yi They have put your hands on your chest
with Adoma and the children sleep on a mat on the floor. The interior ofNana's Na mefre a wommua me yi But when I call you, you don't answer me
room consists of a double bed, a wooden sofa, an old fridge that doesn't work any- Wode me gya hwan nie aa Whom are you leaving me to?
more, asmall table with a jarof drinkingwater, asmall wal! unit in which she keeps a Owuo seifie Death destroys a home
few items like a mirror, some jars of cream and powder, and her photo album, and a Owuo deda amansan kJn mu oo Death is around the neck of eve1y person
pile ofboxes in which she keeps her cloths and the rest of her belongings. Nana and Wamma manka m 'asem ankyere me He has not let me teil my children what I
Adoma usually share their meal, though rhey do not eat from the same bowl. The mmayi have to teil thern
food is always distributed in portions in separate bowls. Soldier gets his food in his
room. Sometimes Adoma goes to her husband in Obuasi fora few days. Then Nana Owuo a yeka ne ho asem a entwa da yi The death we are talking about never comes
takes care of the children. Only after Adoma gave birth to her baby, she went to stay Owuo konfanko ee wo na woye across
in a separate room in the house. Odomankoma Corrupt death, it is you who are the Creator"
Most houses in Bekwai are like Nana's house. Ït is a kind of family house, which Efiri se wode wo te sii me so ee Because you have blinded me
is very common in Asante. Different generations live together in the same com- Mani nnye me wiase I am not happy about this world
pound and some rooms are rented out to tenants. Intergenerational interaction is, Na erna m 'ani aye me yayaaya And it makes me very dismayed
ideally, based on the support berween young and old. 'The most important attribute
of the traditional extended family is its inner dynamics, chat is, the social relations M'asetena aye basaa My life is a mess
and interactions among kin groups and roles and responsibilities assigned to differ- Dec Jpee me anya me oo The one who wanted me has got me
ent age groups. In a typical family house one finds adults, elderly persons, young Agya eei owuo trimu ye den Father, death is wicked
people and children' (Apt 1996: 18). There is an Akan proverb, which says 'the hand Maame eei na wogyaa me sen nie aa Mother, how are you leaving me behind?
60 Long live the dead! Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 61

Owuo seifie Death destroys a home , Funeral rites at a public place (a square, a park, or another open space)
Owuo atu/edee WJ hJzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
yi sec na obaako The ladder of death is there and ir is not (ayie kesee or ayie pa).'
nforo oo climbed by one person alone - Sunday > Thanksgiving service in church (aseda. asJre);
Owuo seifie zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Death destroys a home > Continuation of the funeral rites, at a public place or in the family

(Transcription Acta Asare-Bediako) (Translation MdW) house.

Monday > Settling the accounts.
Upon the death of a family member, a fitting funeral should acknowledge his/her In the week following the funeral: thanking the mourners (kJ aseda).
unique and special role taken away by death. Reciprociry is the basic principle gov- The fortieth day celebration (adaduanan), appointment of a successor (JdedifoJ).
erning the organisation of funerals within the family. Children organise a fitting The one-year celebration (afehyiada.), often the occasion for unveiling the tomb.
funeral for rheir dead parent in recognition of the care rhey received from him or her
during his or her lifetime. A big funeral is also recognition of a person's contribu- In the past things were quite different. Especially the advent of mortuaries has radi-
tion, financially or reproductively, to the abusua as a whole. Organising a proper cally changed the sequence and scale of funeral ceremonies. Before mortuaries were
funeral fora dead relative is seen as the ultimate form of care and because care is basi-
common in Ghana, a person was usually buried very shortly after death. Because of
cally organised within the family, a funeral is first of all the abusua's business. Be-long distances and lack of communication and transport facilities, most relatives and
cause funeral ceremonies are the most important expressions of solidariry wirhin the other social relations could not be informed in time to be present at the burial,
family, it is very important to attend and contribute to funerals in one's family. which was, consequently, a rather small event. It was at the occasion of the funeral
A funeral is the ultimate expression of communal feeling of the abusua. A death in rites a week or forry days later that the whole family and many visitors carne together
the family is the occasion for members of the abusua who have dispersed all over fora big celebration. Also if the person was staying in a place far from his hometown,
Ghana and abroad to carne home to engage in collective action. It is a period in s/he was buried there. I was told that some strands of hair and nail parings were then
6
which one shares a lot, with regard to organisation and finances as well as with re- sent to the family to perform the funeral (cf. Rattray 192T 159, n. 2). Today still, if
gard to emotions. This strengthens and expresses the sense of belonging to a group, somebody dies in the diaspora, a messenger may be sent to Ghana with a bit of hair
ofhaving one's roots in the hometown and of mutual dependence and solidariry (cf. and some nail parings of the deceased to announce the death and the day of the
Vollbrecht 1978: 327). funeral (Van Dijk 2000: 207).
N owadays, keeping the body in a mortuary allows a family to plan and raise funds
for an elaborate celebration. Usually a Saturday is chosen, which is convenient for
THE ORGANISATION OF A FUNERAL zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
werking people, and laying-in-state, burial, and funeral rites, and thanksgiving ser-
An average Asante funeral requires a lot of time, effort, organisation, and money. It vice are all combined in the same weekend. This allows all relatives and friends who
is a long process starting from the moment of death and ending with the last celebra- have to come from far away to participare in the whole sequence of events. If they
tion after one year, incorporating several ceremonies and events. A 'rypical' sequence stay overnight or even a few days, it is the family' s task to provide them with lodging
of events following a death in the family could be: and food.
- Informing relatives by sending personal messengers. Funeral costs (and organisational tasks), of course differing with how elaborate
- The conveyance of the body to the mortuary. the family wants the funeral to be, and thus dependent upon the social esteem of the
Family meeting to plan a date for the funeral, if necessary appointing a funeral deceased and the financial resources of the family, may include the following. The
committee. prices stated in brackets refer to the cost of an average funeral described below
- The one-week-celebration innauntwe da,). (q:1,000 was about $0.60 at that time).
F riday: > Bringing the body from the mortuary to the house ( or very early Satur- Mortuary fee for storage of the body (q:96,000 fora week).
day morning); Transportation of the body to and from the mortuary (q:180,000).
> A small, private wake-keeping in family house (since the traditionally Announcements on the radio, in newspapers and through a loudspeaker van
elaborate wake-keepings (apssie) are now prohibited). ( q:200,000 for the loudspeaker van).
-'- Saturday , The laying-in-state-ceremony in the family house (ahoda.e); Printing announcements/funeral invitations for distribution within the social
, A burial service in church (owuaSJre); network.
> Interment at the cemetery (afomie); Printing a funeral programme for distribution among guests.
62 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
A coffin, normally bought by the children (<t-350,000).
- Morticiari's or undertaker's fee for the preparation of the body (croo.ooo).
- Hiring materials for laying the body in state, including a bed, bedding, flowers,
curtains, !ace (this is aften included in the mortician's fee) (<t,120,000).
Painting (and repairs) of the house (croo.ooo).
- Renting a generator (in villages with no electricity) (<t8o,ooo).
- Renting chairs and canopies, plus their transportation (<t-180,000).
Drinks and snacks for visitors (<t-400,ooo).
- One or two musical groups (a gospel or highlife band, a nnioomkoro or adowa
group) (cêo.ooo).
Hiring a DJ and a sound system (<t8o,ooo for two days).
- Hiring video men.
- Buying mourning or thanksgiving cloth,
- Printing T-shirts.
- Buying or hiring adesiedee and adosoa items (<t-150,000).
- Receipt hooks (croo.ooo).
- Cemetery fee (<t-50,000).
- Lodging and food for guests staying overnight.
- Church fees.
THE DEATH OF JPANIN KoFI AFARI
About a month before I moved to live in Bekwai, the uncle of my friend Auntie
7
Patience, whom she had been living with in the family house, died.zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
When I carne
back from my trip to Mali, I heard that Dpanin Kofi Afari had died in August and
they had just clone his funeral. Although I did not personally participate in this
funeral, I will teil the story of the death of this old man, because of my close contact
with Patience and her farnily and easy access to further information on his death, the
organisation of the funeral and additional events, Moreover, the process of mourn-
ing does not end with the 'final funeral rites'. I have been involved in the aftermath
of the funeral and the subsequent events and actions, more than in any other fu-
neral. The following account is compiled out of what Patience, her mother Afua
Adukyiwaa and her brother Adu told me and a written account by Patience.
Afua recounts about the death of her brother, a story she aften told people who
carne to 'greet' (offer their condolences) her after the death: 'I was alone in the house
with him. He was lying in bed in his room. He asked me for a glass of water and I
went to get it for him. Then I went back to my room. When I carne to his room
again after one hour, he had died. I didn't know what to do. First I informed my sis-
ter Abena [who stays elsewhere in Bekwai], who carne immediately. Then I in-
formed the other family members as soon as possible. Then they brought him to the
mortuary in Kumasi.' That she mentions the water, and she mentioned this every
time she told the story, is significant. Traditionally a dying person is given a sip of
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLK
Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 63
water to be able to climb the steep hili to asamando. It is considered the duty of the
close relatives present to give this last sip of water. Rattray (1927: 149) states that 'an
Ashanti lives in dread of "passing over" without someone to perform this last pious
rite, and it is considered a disgrace to the relatives to have omitted to do so.' Appar-
ently, although this practice may have diminished (Arhin 1994), its importance is
still feit. By including this element in her account, Afua shows that she has fulfilled
her duty. That she then went back to her room and left the man alone to die is not a
failure. It is not required that somebody is present at the bedside at the actual
moment of dying. There exists a notion that people should be left alone to die in
8
peace.
Three of the tenants in the house were sent as messengers to inforrn the relatives
in Kumasi, Abuakwa and Accra. Direct family in the house is not allowed to travel.
The relatives carne as soon as possible, the same day or else the next day. After con-
sultation with the ones who carne first, the body was sent to the mortuary by Adu in
a hired car. 'We did it simple, his funeral was not too big,' says Patience, 'we put him
in the fridge only one week.' The farnily carne together to plan a day for the funeral
and as soon as the day was frxed, announcements were made trough the loudspeaker
van and the local box-radio. 'Also, we wailed in the house, so that the people know
that we are bereaved. Earlier, you have also cried, when you received the message,
before you set off. But now we cry again, all together. Then sympathisers carne to
the house.' Wailing is also a way of announcing a death. They did not print an obi-
tuary poster because they could not find a suitable picture. After the announcements
the actual organisation of a place, chairs and canopies, music, drinks, and a coffin
begins. The abusuapanin, Afua' s other brother Nana Sarpong, who stays in Kumasi,
had the final responsibility for the organisation of the funeral. But in practice Afua
'decided on what to do and how to do it, because she stayed with him throughout
his lifetime.' Sarpong and Afua were assisted, theorerically, by Afua's and Abena's
children. But since most of them live elsewhere, Adu and Patience, who both stay in
Bekwai, did most of the practical organisation. Kofi Afari' s own children also helped
in the organisation of the funeral, hut they did not have the responsibility. As is the
custorn, the children bought the coffin and they also contributed some more to the
expenses.
The funeral was held one week after death. The body of Kofi Afari was conveyed
from the mortuary the day before, hut there was no public wake-keeping, as holding
wake-keepings has recently been prohibited by the chief ofBekwai (more on this in
Chapter 6). The close relatives held a small wake next to the body in the room.
Patience writes in her account:
'He was laid in state in the house, in the big hall [an alcove at the courtyard], early
in the morning. The children brought someone to dress a bed and decorate it. At
5:00 am the families and the children carne round to pour libation with schnapps.
We pour libation for all these who have died before and we pray that no-one may
64 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
die again. It was led by the abusuapanin. After the prayer the old lady in the house
started crying. Then everybody joined and when people heard the crying they
started coming to mourn with us. Burial rhings, cloths, rings, and schnapps, were
presented from the children, family and loved ones. Abena's friend did the presen-
tation, The cloths were torn into pieces and shared among the children, the fami-
lies and loved ones.'
Chairs and canopies were hired from a woman in town. A brass band was organised
through a nephew, who plays the trumpet in the band. There was also a DJ, who
brought his own sound systern and music cassettes. Approximately 300 people carne
to the house before the burial. Kof Afari was not an active Christian so no church
service was performed. After the gathering in the family house, the body was put in
the coffin and brought to the municipal cemetery. Patience writes: 'On that Satur-
day morning it rained heavily, so we hired a pickup Nissan car, which cost us
<t,25,000, to the cemetery. If not the rain, the children and their friends will carry the
coffin on their shoulders to the cemetery.' The funeral rites took place in the after-
noon from 1:00 p.m. at the open space next to the Broadway bar in the centre of
Bekwai, a place often used for funerals. The band and the DJ played different kinds
of music while the funeral guests carne to greet the farnily, made their donations and
were served with soft drinks. On Saturday and Sunday, when the celebration was
continued, over 500 people carne. In all it was, according to Patience, a moderate
funeral. But she also complained that 'funerals are very expensive, Asante custom
rnye koraal' Asante custom is not good at all.
To organise the funeral individual farnily members contributed some money to
start with. Patience said she gave <t,200,000, a sister of hers also paid rhat amount.
After calculating the expenses and donations on Monday, there turned out to be a
debt of <t,200,000, but the funeral was not over yet. More donations and more
expenses would follow. When I proposed to make a contribution, Patience said I
should buy special funeral cloth (brisie) for Afua. I should not give money, because I
was not just a visitor. The custom is that the grandchildren and the husbands of the
daughters buy cloth. By asking for cloth instead of money, Patience claimed my spe-
cial relation to her family and close involvement in her uncle's funeral. Her husband
and her sons had also bought cloth, Brisie is a purple-brownish shining cloth irn-
ported from China. It is the type of cloth that bereaved people have to wear. Every-
body complains about this custom, because the cloth is very delicate and not colour-
fast and gets easily spoiled when it gets wet, but 'we are forced to buy it when we are
bereaved', Patience says. At the market in Kumasi I bought six yards of brisie and a
black headscarf for Afua and had the cloth made into a dress for her.
After the funeral, Afua kept on wearing black mourning cloth in public. 'In pub-
lic', however, is subject to negotiation. When she went to church, to the marker,
passed through the centre of town on the hilltop, or traveled to Kumasi, she wore
black. When walking round the back to my house or to other places where she did
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONML
Famiry and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 65
not have to pass through the town centre, she did not wear black. Officially she
should wear black for one year, until the ayie (in the sense of mourning period) is
over, but her ideas of when and where to wear black changed in the course of time.
For travel to another town for exarnple, she soon replaced her mourning cloth by
normal cloth with a black headscarf and after some time she also left the black
headscarf.
On a Friday in September the fortierh day celebration (adaduanan) was held in
the family house. Early in the morning the family carne together in the house to
pour libation and to pray. It was a day to commemorate the death of Kofi Afari.
Afua kept on telling the story of how her brother <lied to visitors. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONM
It was also the day
on which his room, which had been locked until that time, and his property boxes
are opened. It is believed that after a person dies his spirit wil! stay around for forty
days. Thereafter it leaves for asamando and the family may appoint his successor and
share his property. When Afua opened the boxes of her brother, she was struck by
disappointment: there was almost norhing in his boxes. Even the beauriful kente
cloth he was still wearing on a picture taken not so long ago was not found. Afua
accused her brother of having sold the cloth and spent all the money. She corn-
plained with indignation: 'uiany'adee koraa', he has not clone well at all. He should
have left something for the family. On that day too, the family 'sat down together'
(abusua tena ase) and agreed on choosing Adu as heir to succeed his uncle.
In the afternoon visitors carne to the house to participate in the celebration and to
mourn with the family. Again chairs and canopies were hired to provide shady seat-
ing for everybody. The DJ played cassettes with traditional funeral dirges and the
same brass band carne again and played. There was a lot of dancing, mosdy by
women, but also some men danced. No softdrinks were served this time, but there
was schnapps and Adu went round with the bottle to serve everybody. There were
more donations, like the <t,15,000 from the family of Afua's late husband. Getting to
the end, the atmosphere got sadder and it was time to wail. First the daughter of Kofi
Afari started wailing in the middle of the courtyard. Then Patience and her sisters
followed and then also Afua, sitting in front of her room, started larnenting over her
brother' s death. At six o' doek the celebration was suddenly over. The music
stopped, people started leaving, the canopies were taken down and the chairs carried
away. It was getting clark. Afua was still crying and was consoled by her daughter.
The costs of the fortieth day celebration were estimated at <t,200,000, bur the
extra donations were then still to be subtracted. And then there was still the debt of
the funeral. 'Tomorrow morning we will sit down to calculate everything and we
will share the debt among ourselves', Patience said at the end of the day. Later she
told me that, after the final calculation, rhere was no debt, donations have covered
the funeral expenses.
The year celebration in August 1999 marked the end of mourning, the last stage
of the funeral. By that time I had left already, but Patience wrote me about it in a
letter.
66 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 67

'We have finished my uncle' s funeral. Wich his funeral chere was no debt, buc wich
the one-year celebracion chere was, because we had expected his children to come
and help us, but they didn't come. Out of the fivè or six, only one carne. Wich the
funeral, yes, chen chey carne. They boughc che coffin and concribuced some more.
Then chey had co, because ifyou don't do chat, you know Asance people, theywill
talk and talk and make you asharned. Buc wich afehyiada, chey didn't come. They
carne to teil me mocher chat one had travelled, one was sick and so on. Even the
eldest didn't corne, she said she had to care for her husband who was sick. And my
mocher said "well, it's OK, you can go." You see? That's how chey are.'

fAMILY SOLIDARITY

A death in the family is the main impetus to come togecher and share, for family soli-
dariry. Relacives who live dispersed over the country, or even over the world, come
home to play their part in the organisation of the funeral and share in the grief. They
sit together for hours and hours, talking and sharing ideas. Ic is death chat brings
people together. This is most visibly expressed by the red doch worn by the family
members.
One of the first visual impressions chat strike a foreign visitor to an Asante funeral
is the plain red doch worn by many people. F rom the red colour of the doch one can
see chat the person is closely related to the deceased. All family members wear red
mourning doch, called kJbene.9 The use of this colour has a symbolic and a social
meaning. In discussing the Akan concept of person in Chapter 1, I have already
touched upon Akan colour symbolism. Barcle (1983) made clear chat the three el-
ements of person, blood, spirit and soul, parallel the three elements of the universe
and the three ritual colours red, white and black (see Table 1). Here I wil! elaborate
on the use of the colour red. With regard to the person, red stands for blood, and for
the socio-economie dimension of common membership (the abusua), land, prop-
erty, and succession. As regards the universe, red represents the physical element of
land, the spiritual element Asaase Yaa, and the deeper essence or qualiry of danger,
seriousness, abundance, and dirt. We see then chat the red colour of relatives' funeral
doch symbolises the seriousness of their grief, the danger of being polluted by their
close involvement in the transition from life to death, and their blood relationship.
In the olden days, and still roday on important traditional funerals, bereaved rela-
tives smear( ed) red day on their face, shoulders, and forearms. T oday it is most!y red
doch and red head bands chat are used, but at one funeral I even saw red ties, a red
parry wig, and red stockings. The symbolic meaning of red also figures in speech.
The expression m' ani abre, zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
'rny eyes are red', means chat one is in serious trouble,
deeply worried, or seriously busy doing something.
The red doch of the deceased's family members also has a social meaning. lt
expresses one's blood relation to the deceased, but just as much one's relation to the
ether mourners. The red colour shows chat one belongs to the same kin group and
ROYAL MOURNERS AT THE DORMAAHENE'S BURIAL
shares in the painful loss. Whether to wear black or red is negotiable, though. More
important than to express the accual blood relationship to the dead person, is to wear
the same doch as the rest ofyour (kin) group. Joana once wasn't surewhether her sis-
ters would wear black or red to a certain funeral, so she put on black and put a red
kobene cover doch in her bag in case her sisters were wearing red. When we arrived at
the funeral ground, this happened to be the case, so Joana quickly, before going
round to greet the people, put on the red doch. Manipulation of funeral doch shows
the flexibiliry of family ties. To the funeral of the mother of a very good friend J oana
choose to wear red to express her close relationship with chat friend, not so much the
relationship with the mother. 'She is like my sister, so her rnother is also my mother.
I should wear red, it's a sign of respect.' A group of people wearing red doch,
whether real blood relatives or nor, present itself as a group, as 'the abusua'. Ic makes
immediately clear chat these people belang together, a public sign of uniry and
solidariry.
The use of clorh to express family uniry is further visible in the custorn ofbuying
identical blue-and-white thanksgiving doch for the whole family. This common
practice has taken root only quite recent!y. Usually the doch chosen is shown to all
family members at the week celebration. Then everybody can buy this doch and
have ic made into a dress. On the Sunday after the funeral, they all wear the same
doch to church and to the gathering afterwards. Again, a clear and public statement
is made of who belongs to the family group and who doesn't, and again this is sub-
ject to manipulation since also close friends can chose to buy and wear the family
68 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
cloth, The common cloth also serves as a memory: 'this was the cloth we bought
when so-and-so died.' Rich families, who can afford it, may have special memorial
clorh printed with the portrait and name of the deceased on it. This can be white
clorh to be worn for thanksgiving or red doch to be worn at the funeral. Thus, it
is during funerals that family membership is publicly on display, when attendance,
gifts, clothing, and contributions reflect and constitute social relationships. But it
is also then that family membership may be most pressingly challenged (cf.
Berry 2001).
fAMlLY CONFLICT
Although a death in the family is commonly regarded as a period of sharing and soli-
darity, and this is also how the family presents itself a funeral is often an occasion
where conflicts arise. Such conflicts are, however, carefully hidden from the outside,
because quarrelling in the family over the death of a person is regarded as disrespect-
ful and may bring disgrace to the family. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
'If there is quarrel within the family, the
people will talk', ntokioa WzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
J abusua mu a, yebekasa; I was told several times. But since
a funeral is never performed according to a protocol already fixed by tradition, dis-
agreement may naturally arise about how to carry out the funeral, or how much
money to spend. In the previous chapter I have described Yaa' s anger about the gold
dust sent by a chief and the row between two sisters about the amount of clorh
bought. Often, such conflicts are a matter of control. Those who have taken care of
the person for a long time may fee! they have the right to determine how to do the
funeral, while orher family members may appeal to their particular relationship to
the deceased or their position within the family to support their claim to organise
the funeral. This was also the case with Yaa. She was the one who had lived with and
taken care of her mother for years and now a chief who never even carne to visit thern
tried to interfere with her plans for her mother's burial.
Also where to bury the person, where to lay him/her in state, or where to do the
funeral may be a topic of discussion. This is especiallyso when a family Jives in dif-
ferent place and has several houses that are considered a family house. Sometimes a
compromise is reached berween different parties. A hairdresser in Trede had a
rnother who stayed, as many of his family members, in Sunyani. They originated
from Trede, however. When the rnother died, the Trede part of the family wanted
to bury her and do her funeral there, in her hornetown. The Sunyani people
objected that the mother had never stayed in Trede and said they should bury her in
Sunyani. In the end she was laid in state in Sunyani and her funeral was celebrated
there. The next day she was taken to Trede and buried at the village graveyard.
A major cause of trouble is people refusing to contribute to the funeral. This
often concerns relatives staying abroad, who are expected to contribute much not
because they are closely related to the deceased, but because they are supposed to be
rich. When they, staying abroad for a long time already and having contact with
Family and Death: 'Abusua D, Funu' 69
only their immediate family, are requested to conrribute a huge sum of money to the
funeral of some aunt they hardly know, they may refuse this to the anger of the fami-
ly. I have witnessed on several occasions that a far family member abroad was after
the death of an old man orwoman suddenly included in the category 'childreri'. The
people organising the funeral were then furious that rhis person did not contribute
(or contributed less than they had wanted) to the funeral of his/her 'own father/
mother', This also surprised me, but when I kept asking the deceased turned out not
to be a parent at all. In one instance the accused 'son' was the son of the daughrer of
the sister of the rnother of the deceased man. There were many more persons simi-
larly related to the deceased and there had not been a special relationship berween
this man and the deceased. The difference was that he was rich and successful.
How to share the debt of the funeral and how to share the inheritance are two hot
items closely related. Family membership is widely recognised as legitimare basis for
making claims to family properry, such as land and houses. But, as we have seen and
as Berry also points out, because family membership is often far from self-evident,
access to family property is just as subject to negotiation and contest among family
members. Funerals are so important rhen, because 'in coming together to honor the
dead and share funeral expenses, people assert claims to family membership and the
right to share in the enjoyment of family property' (Berry 2001: m). It is usually
accepted that chose who share in the funeral debt are entirled toa part of the inherit-
ance (Arhin 1994). This also explains the genera! notion that there should be a debt
after a funeral and chat also if donations have covered the expenses or people have
even made a profit, they will prefer to say that there was a debt. That succession and
inheritance remains a very difficult issue and a cause of much family conflict appears
from the huge number of inheritance cases pending in court. I shall come back to
the question of inheritance in Chapter 6.
I have found it difficult to obtain clear information on conflicts in a family about
a funeral. Very often I noticed chat there was some kind of conflict on the scene, but
the exact backgrounds were hard to get at. People were not willing to talk about this.
This is not surprising when a funeral is the occasion fora family to present itself in
the most respectful way. Quarrelling is always the denial of the much-valued ideal of
family solidarity and rnutual aid and understanding, but even more so in times of
mournmg.
lNTER-FAMlLY RELATIONS
Not only is a funeral the occasion for strengrhening and negotiating internal family
honds and solidariry, also boundaries and ties berween families are negotiated. Dur-
ing funerals 'the fullest expression is given to the reciprocal relationships and obliga-
tions established berween the kinfolk of a man and a woman upon marriage'
(Manuh 1995: 188). In comparison to funeral celebrations, marriage ceremonies are
rather small-scale and simple. Marriage is considered more a private matter, whereas
70 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
death is regarded as a matter of public concern. It is at funerals, then, that the mar-
riage ties that bind families together are publicly elaborated and reconfirmed.
The clearest expression of this is the ritual called adosoa, the presentation of gifts
(adekyeredee 'show items') to the bereaved family by the 'in-laws' iasee, pl. nsenom).
This spectacular show takes place during the public funeral celebration in the after-
noon, when a group of women carry a train of items on their heads and walk round
to show ir to the public, often accompanied by drummers and sometimes also by a
dancer, usually a young girl. One woman announces the gifts and the givers one by
one through the microphone: 'meregyina ha ama kunafoJ, mma ena mmarima', I am
representing the people of the widow(er), women and men. The givers are the fami-
lies of the widow or the widower and of the spouses of the children. The items they
present may include: boules ofimported spirits, crates of softdrinks and beer, differ-
ent types of cloth, pillows, mats, traditional leather sandals (ahenema), a 'decorated
sheep' (wearing a red ribbon around his neck), piles of bank notes, and maybe some
other imported luxury artides like whiskey glasses or handkerchiefs in kitsch cases.
There may also be imported consumer goods like tins of milk, soap, shampoo, per-
fumes, tinned foodstuffs, and biscuits. Everything is presented on shiny plates or in
golden bowls, decorated with rib bons and foil. A special gift sometimes included in
the items is a huge necklace consisting of two golden discs pending from a string of
precious glass and gold beads. It is called aunsiado, literally 'orphan' s love', and is
presented to the children who lost their parent by their spouses as a sign of consola-
tion. Hanging the necklaces around their necks is part of the show. And a show it is.
Mostly, the arricles presented are hired or borrowed to make a display for the occa-
sion and should be returned afterwards (see Chapter 4). Mourners may be hired to
carry the 'donations' around. When I asked the significance of this practice, people
said thar the in-laws have to show their sympathy and their sorrow with these gifts.
Interestingly, the bottles of schnapps, whiskey, gin, or cognac are referred to as
nsa fufuo, palm wine, even though the show boules may even contain a mixture of
water and coffee. Rattray (1927) gives a detailed account of the donations each party
should bring as a contribution to the funeral. He states that all contributions by peo-
ple outside the abusua (the widow(er), in case of a man the children, the in-laws,
friends etc.) come under the category of nsa, 'drink'.
'The expenses in conneccion with a funeral, for which the family primarily is re-
sponsible, are known in Ashanti as ayi asi 'ka, i.e. funeral debts which bind or hold.
Voluntary concribucions towards these expenses made by strangers, as an ace of
friendship or courtesy, are called nsa. They are kept separate and distinct and do
not in any way make che donors liable for funeral expenses, for the debcs of che
deceased, or conversely give a claim to share in any surplus of the escace. The con-
cributions, even where more or less obligatory, of the spouse and the children and
grandchildren (i.e. in case where the deceased is a man) also come under the car-
egory of nsa' (Ratcray 1927: 155-156).
Family and Death: 'Abusua D, Funu' 7I
The term nsa echoes the ancient custorn of visitors bringing pots of palm wine as a
contribution to the funeral to be used in pouring libation and shared among the
mourners. Nowadays, sympathisers donate money instead of palm wine (although
bottled beer, schnapps or minerals may be added), but this donation is still called
nsa. Today still, nsa marks the boundary between inside and outside the abusua.
When Patience did not want money for her uncle's funeral, she in fact claimed a
kind of family relationship with me. The money I used to buy the brisie cloth was
clearly a different kind of money than the money given by 'srrangers'. The fact that
even the fake drinks presented at funerals today are still called nsafufuo, shows that it
is not so much the use of the actual artide that matters, but the artide as an expres-
sion and confirmation of a relationship. Nsa fufuo symbolises the bond between
families, and the type of nsa fufuo (expensive cognacs and whiskeys, moderately
priced schnapps, or cheap real palm wine) shows how this relation is valued. The
aim is to make a 'fine funeral' and the part of the in-laws is crucial. Adosoa, then, is an
expression of the interdependence of families: an abusua depends upon irs in-laws to
see their deceased member off in a great way. Of course, the adosoa show is a source
of prestige for both families and an arena for competition between families. The
amounc and the quality of the items attest to the esteem of the deceased and of both
families.
The marriage bond between rwo families does not stop when one of the partners
dies. During the fortieth day celebration of Kofi Afari, there was a donation of
<t15,ooo by the family of Afua's husband, who <lied ten years ago, as a contribution to
her brother's funeral. Patience, her sisters, and I, as representarives of Afua's family,
later went to thank her husband's family for the donation. The gift and the accepta-
tien of it by expressing gratitude area public statement that both parties still consid-
er the relationship as existing and meaningful. At many other funerals I witnessed
families of long deceased husbands or wives making a donation as a family, not as
individuals. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The abusua and the modern family zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZ
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
A CHANGlNG FAMILY SYSTEM
The traditional kinship based social structure is undergoing significant changes with
the social-historical developments of moderniry: individualisation, the growing
prominence of the nuclear family, the growing influence of market economy, ur-
banisation and transnational migration (increased mobiliry), and romantic love as
basis for marriage. All such developments contribute in the weakening of the signifi-
cance of the extended family in favour of nuclear family of husband, wife, and chil-
dren. Many people, especially migrants in the cities, experience the obligations and
expectarions of their extended family as very oppressive and as an impediment to
72 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
their personal career. For many, then, migration to the city is in fact an attempt to
disengage themselves from family responsibilities and devote their time and energy
to cheir nuclear families. Many observers nocice a breakdown of the kinship system
as a system of social securiry.
The modern nuclear family is strongly propagated in Pentecostal churches, which
are becoming increasingly popular. Church leaders advise their followers to concen-
trate on marriage and nuclear family life, even to the extent of breaking with their
own family. When church members come to a pastor with one or another problem,
it aften happens that he accuses an old woman in the family, usually one living in a
village, as a witch and the cause of misforrune. Being too much attached to one's
family is presented as backward and not fit to modern life, even dangerous.
Also in popular films the nuclear family is expressed as the modern ideal (see
Meyer 1997). In many films the hero is the tender lovingwife and mother. The mar-
riage bond between husband and wife is most cherished, while members of the
extended family ( usually of the man), especially an old mother or aunt in the home
village, are mostly depicted as bad characters employing bad magie to destruct the
nuclear family of cheir son. The extended family is chus presented as a threat to the
source of happiness chat the nuclear family is to be.
Maybe the most oucscanding sign of the nuclear family life ideal is the modern
house, a big villa with a high fence wal! around ic and a wacchdog. Such houses are
built in new residential areas in almost every town in Ghana, moscly by migrants in
the diaspora who invest cheir money mainly in the construccion of houses. Also a lit-
rle oucside Bekwai bungalows are rising. Building such a house is the utmosc life ideal
for many Asante, the most visible symbol of success in life (cf. Van der Geest 1998a).
Compared wich the open compound house, where people can easily walk in and out,
the closed, fenced bungalow or rwo-storey house is a clear expression of a new, indi-
vidualised lifestyle. N ana Asiedu, kuntirehene ofBekwai, commented on chis topic:
'Ina compound house, there are always people around. If someching happens, you
shout and immediacely your people or your neighbours will carne and help you.
They see and they hear whac is going on. Buc in such a modern house, wich a high
wal! all around and a warning at the gate thac a ferocious dog is proteccing the
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
place, who is coming to help you when something happens to you? Nobody!'
Interestingly, a person may have built and lived in a beautiful modern house during
his lifetirne, but when he dies, he will mosrly be laid in state in the family house, pro-
vided at least that the family house is presentable enough. That's where the funeral
ceremonies take place, not in the private residence of the deceased. This is just one
indication chat modernisation and the changing family system do, contrary to what
one might expect, not diminish the importance of funerals as a family occasion.
That the traditional family structure is still of great importance, is clear from the
elaborate way funerals are celebrated.
Family and Death: 'Abusua D1 Funu'
73
TENSIONS AND SQUABBLES
On the one hand we see that the social organisation of society becomes increasingly
based on the nuclear family. Daily matters like accommodation, educarion, work,
care etc. are increasingly, above all in the cities, organised individually, independ-
ent of the larger family. On the other hand we can see that the extended family does
not lose control over the major life event, namely the funeral. Not surprisingly,
conflicts and tensions may arise as a resulr of this conrradicrion, Of course, this ten-
sion is not altogether new and also in the olden days the interests of the wife and
children of a (dead) man were not the interests of his matrilineal family. Widow
rites whereby the widow was confined in the house, denied food and ether things,
and had to undergo harsh treatrnent by the family of her deceased husband illus-
trate this (see Fiawoo et al. 1978). The point, however, is that in most areas of life
the nuclear family is gaining control, but as regards death and funerals, the abusua
seems too strong to conquer. And it is exacrly this contradiction that frequent!y
gives rise to tensions at funerals. Such conflicts between the abusua and the nuclear
farnily are most!y a matter of co nero 1, of family polities. The Ghanaian philosopher
Kwame Appiah touches on the hearc of the matter when he states: 'Of course the
widow and children of a dead man are part of the furniture of an Asante funeral.
Buc they do not concrol it' (Appiah 1996: 183).
Let me come back to the opening event of chis chapter. This is probably exacrly
how Owusu Agyeman's widow felr: being pare of the furniture without ha ving a say
in the matter. Especially her children, sitting on the floor and hung wirh traditional
funeral paraphernalia like aunsiada necklaces, leaves and cowry shells, were the
major showpiece of the traditional funeral performed for rhis prominent man of
royal blood. Ït may well be that the widow and her children had been neglected in
the process of organisation of the funeral. It may also be that they, modern, edu-
cated people, most of whom were staying in England, had not wanted to choose for
this traditional form. When my sister Ama asked one of the wamen of the family
for permission to film, the widow was again passed over and deprived of contra!
over the siruation, She goc angry, said that it was very impolite to film her children
'sitting on the floor like bush people', and that she knew that we were going to take
the tape home to Europe to mock at thern. The face that three video men were
already recording the scene was no argument. The family probably hired thern,
again without the widow's consent. The - according to most people - exaggerated
reaction of the widow and her children may have been an expression of personal
frusrration and grief, for which there was no room in the funeral as shaped by the
royal family.
Kwame Appiah gives a beautiful and telling account of the squabbles that sur-
rounded his father's funeral in the epilogue ofhis book In My Fatber's House (1996).
After the death of Appiah's father, Paa Joe, an important public figure in Ghana,
two parties were fighring over the con trol of the organisation of his funeral. On the
74 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
one side there were his children, Kwame Appiah and his sisters, and their British
mother. They wanted to perforrn the funeral accqrding to the father's wil! and had
the church and its leaders on their side. On the ether side there was the abusua, and
in particular the father's sister, Auntie Vic, who was the wife of the Asante king
Otumfuo Opoku Ware II and tried to misuse his power to push the abusuds plan
through. Paa Joe had left a codicil, which stated:
'The exhibition of <lead bodies to all and sundry prior to burial and subsequent
unnecessary and elaborate funeral celebrations have always distressed me; there-
fore, I solemnly request that these abominable trappings be avoided at my pass-
ing away. I wish my family and friends to remember me as I was before my de-
mise and to clothe themselves in white instead of the traditional black and <lark
browns that portray mari's inevitable transition as a gloomy specter' (Appiah
1996: 184, quoted from Joe Appiah, joe Appiah: The Autobiography of an African
Patriot).
The conflict berween the children and Auntie Vic that followed the death of Joe
Appiah initially concerned the date of the funeral, hut 'the issue was not conve-
nience, hut control' (ibid.: r84). The children and the church funeral committee
wanced to do the funeral as soon as possible to be able to do it according to the
father's wish. The abusua tried to postpone ic to gain control over the funeral, do it
the way chey wanted and gain prestige. What followed was an outright row in the
palace of the Asantehene, ritual sacrifices on both sides, suspicions of poisoning, and
threats to the widow, hut in the end Joe Appiah was buried as he had wished. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ic
turned out from newspaper articles and editorials chat Kwame Appiah and his sisters
had popular sentiment on their side, bur clearly, 'removing the abusua from normal
control inevicably entailed an element of public disgrace' (ibid.: r83)
What we see in this case, and supposedly also in Owusu Agyeman' s case, is a clash
of values of a modern, Western educated and oriented nuclear family, for which in-
dividual rights were at stake and an extended royal family whose interest was above
all to defend community values and family honour. More and more people are
adopting a somehow individualised lifestyle, but, as a proverb says, abusua dua
yentwa, 'we do not cut the family tree.' It is exactly this tension between individual
desires and communal values that creates the arena in which modern funerals are
'foughr out'.
fUNERALS AT HOME AND ABROAD
For people who migrate to Aburokyire, Europe, Japan or the us, the distance tends
co loosen cheir ties wirh their family at home. In the diaspora, they organise their
life without direct involvement of their family. They may send money home and
occasionally visie Ghana, but for most this is quite limited. Normally their life
Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 75
evolves independent of their families at home. Ic is funerals, then, that bind dis-
persed families together. A death in the family is the major occasion to come home
or to send money as a contribution to the funeral costs. Relatives staying abroad
often bear a great part of the funeral expenses. They are expected to contribute
largely. In his srudy of Ghanaian migrants' assistance to relatives at home, Arhinful
(1998) shows that Ghanaians in the diaspora, Amsterdam in this case, tend to spend
much less money in Ghana on education of children, hospita! bills and subsistence
than on funerals. They claim, however, chat funeral support is the least important
form of assistance. A Ghanaian friend in Amsterdam told me that she cannot visit
her sick mother in Ghana, because she does not have enough money to buy the
presents her family is expecting from her. When her rnother would die, however,
she could go, because then the family would not expect so many presents, as the
funeral is the reason of coming. Apparently, when there is a death in the family, it is
so obvious chat someone would come home, that presents are not expected. If this is
not the case, however, the person comes ofhis own free will and thus should bring
'something'.
Migrants also perforrn funerals abroad for family members who have <lied in
Ghana. Whether rhey have attended the funeral at home or not, another funeral is
organised for relatives and friends in the diaspora (see also Chapter 3). Another
friend of mine, Abena, went to Ghana for her father's funeral in Kumasi in February
r999. Her sister, who stays in the us, was also present. Now the sister wants to organ-
ise anorher big funeral for her father in the us. Abena, however, says that her sister
only wants to do this to enhance her own prestige and that she will therefore neither
go nor contribute. She added: 'If I was somebody I could have done my father's
funeral here. I could have invited people to come and drink and chey would have
given me money. But ... ' Also if somebody dies abroad, two funerals may be held,
one abroad and one by the family at home in Ghana. I heard of a Ghanaian man
who died in Amsterdam. He was buried in Amsterdam and his relatives did the
funeral both in Amsterdam and in his hometown in Ghana. They made sure the rwo
funerals were performed at exactly the same time. What also plays a role for many
migrants is krataasem, 'paper problems'. Migrants who are illegal cannot go to
Ghana fora funeral and comeback and thus have to find another way to perform or
participate in the funeral.
Very important in 'transnational funerals' is the use of video. Often a video
recording is made of the funeral in Ghana and sent to relatives abroad, who couldn'r
be present. Also, a video can be made of the funeral organised abroad and shown to
visitors during the funeral in Ghana. An example is the anniversary celebration I vis-
ited of a deceased member of a family in Trede. Part of the family is staying in Lon-
don and after the funeral in Trede anorher funeral was performed in London. One
year later the video of the London funeral was shown to the visitors during the anni-
versary celebration in Trede. A television, a video deck, and a generator were hired
for the occasion. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
76 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The family performed zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
the family status which is at stake rather than the status of the deceased. 'Respect for
CüMPETING FOR PRESTIGE
I have shown rhat in spite of the diminishing influence of the abusua and develop-
ments like individualisation, migration, and Western education, the extended
family still maintains its prominent position when it comes to death and funerals.
The funeral as a source of family prestige and status seems to zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
grow in importance
rarher than to decline. A funeral is, generally, a display of the family. It is the events
and practices following the death of a person that constiture his or her family as a
'respectful farnily'. Let me review briefly by which means a family competes for
prestige.
Funeral practices that convey prestige upon a family give expression to different
'family values': accumulation of family wealth, having family members abroad,
family solidarity, and respect fora dead family member. Wearing the same cloth, sit-
ting together as a group, and each one performing his task are public signs of family
solidarity, uniry, and co-operation, In radio announcements and on funeral posters
the emphasis is often on family members abroad and their occupations. But most of
all, a funeral is a show of family wealth, Several gifr-giving riruals like adosoa and
adesiedee emphasise the symbolic role of family wealth. Also the family house, the
symbol of family property, is of great importance during a funeral, when it is freshly
painted and repaired and equipped with electriciry, new curtains, and other decora-
tions. Spending money in these and other (visible) ways (buying new doch for the
whole family, buying special gifts for the guests, or printing glossy funeral pro-
grammes), not only testifies to the wealth of the family, but also to their willingness
to spend it on a great funeral for their deceased relative, and thus to their respect for
the dead. Keeping the corpse in the mortuary for a long time, hiring a commercial
funeral undertaker to deco ra te the body, or paying a photographer or video maker to
record the whole scene, all add to the costs involved and, since people know the
prices of such services, to the prestige of the family.
The more money is spent, the better the funeral. The funeral has become an occa-
sion to show off family wealth and unity and gain prestige in the competition for
family status. This point is also stressed by Van der Geest in an article entit!ed 'Fu-
nerals for the living', where he argues chat 'the deceased and his or her dead body,
though apparently at the center of the funeral, are primarily symbols, ritual objects
that the family needs to perforrn a ceremony for itself (2000: toy) and that 'the body
becomes a corpus festi, a ritual object, an indispensable 'party good' fora proper cele-
bration' (ibid.: 124). Although I think this statement is too provocative, misses the
real feelings of grief that people have, and denies the exiscence of any respect for the
deceased, Van der Geest surely hits the point that by displaying the body in an
elaborate fashion and organising a spectacular celebration, a family mainly increases
her own prestige and by not doing so, destroys the good family name. It seems to be
Family and Death: 'Abusua Do Funu' zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZY
11
the dead' is the framing narrative families use to celebrate their own excellence. As a
proverb cited by Van der Geest puts it: yede kente daadaa Junu, 'with kente cloth we
deceive the dead' (2000: 124).
'THE FAMILY LOVES A DEAD BODY'
When I worked as a nurse assistant in Trede and visited sick people at home, I often
witnessed chat the families of old or sick people could not afford the necessary medi-
cines or hospita! fees and decided not to buy the medicines or not to send the sick
person to the hospital. It happened twice (and it probably happens very often) that
the person concerned died a short time afterwards. Now the family had the money
to organise a big funeral with locs of drinks and show and a painted house. Suddenly
the money was flowing from wealthy family members abroad, from bank loans, or
from anywhere. No expenses were spared to give the persona 'befitting farewell'.
The medicines s/he badly needed when still alive could however not be afforded. I
found this a very distressing aspect of the way funerals are celebrated.
I am not the only one. Ic is precisely this aspect that is most!y criticised in the
debate on expensive funerals that is currently going on in the media. In an article
titled 'Human Vultures', a contributor to The Mirrorcompares the funeral practices
of many Ghanaians to che dietary preferences of vultures.
'At the age of 50, Uncle Ayikwei suddenly died, killed by a soaring hypertension.
This silene killer was no doubt brought on by the great stress accompanying the
worries of chis life. And just what hadn't he clone to make life a little bearable for
his beautiful wife and four intelligent kids? Simultaneously holding four different
jobs, he had practically slaved in an attempt to give life a semblance of dignity.
With his room almost bare, he died gasping for air at the Police Hospital. His
funeral was comparatively a grand affair. 0 yes, it sure was! There was the funeral
committee chat met regularly to plan. There were all the nice and expensive cars
that carne. There was also the service held at a place hired for thousands of cedis.
Ironically, Uncle Ayikwei had had more help and support in death chat he could
ever hope for in life. We just needed him to die to show how much we really
cared. In thousands of homes and families all over the country, the above story is
retold over and over again in diverse ways. Will our resources, money, time and
comfort not serve a better purpose when given out before the deaths of our rela-
tions? Is ic nota sad reflection on our society chat a pauper suddenly has millions
flocking to his funeral when chose same millions could have contribured in no
small way to make his life a little comfortable? Certainly, we need a serious re-
thinking of some of our values both as individuals and as a society. If you are ever
ready to keep a corpse company through the night, chen your company would be
beteer appreciaced beside the sick bed. You could also spend some quality time
78 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Family and Death: 'Abusua DJ Funu' 79

zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
with the young children of the sick parent. If you don' t mind donating generously [Sung}
to the family of the deceased, then please help settle the frightening medica! bills Mete ase a abusua kyiri me tan me Wh en I am alive, my family dislikes me
or assist in the procurement of drugs. Ifyou have such organisational abilities nanso mewu dee ara and hates me, but when I die
needed to raise mighty funds for a funeral, then surely, you should not have a enye anka ese w 'ani you will be there to witness it
problem teaming up wirh others to set up a business thar could employ hundreds Na anka unbenya adagye aye m 'ayie they will get much time to make my
if not thousands. Though the above will not stay the crushing hand of death, it frenkyim oo funeral vety fine
will at least not make us a people who cherish death more, much like the vu!tures I M'awieee oo Omyend,
saw' (Sodzi-Tettey 1998). Abusua do funu oo The family loves a <lead body
Menni sika ena mennya ntoma I don'r have money and I haven't got cloth
There is a Twi proverb that points exactly to this contradiction: abusua do funu, the Nanso me wuda ara ho but the very day I die
family loves a <lead body. It means that it is the abusua's responsibility to organise a anka wadeda me 'adwenasa' they will lay me out with adwenasa"
fitting burial for their <lead member, but it also implies a critique on the inclination Mennya kete nna so mpo I haven'r even got a mat to sleep on
of families to spend more money on funerals than on care for the elderly and the sick Nanso meda hJ a yede dadee mpa but when I !ie in state, they will put down
and to take a death in the family as an opportuniry to display family wealth, enhance besi ho a metal bed
family prestige, and even make money. The following highlife song by the Asante Abusua do funu ntera The family rruly loves a dead body
Brothers is titled after this proverb and expresses this critique straightforwardly. lt is Abusua kyiri eka ntera The family doesn't like debt
an old song dating from the seventies and I have never heard it at funerals today. Abusua pe adee oo The family likes property oo
Wh en I worked on it with Joana she told me that it was quite popular at the time, Me nko ara m 'atoieee oo 0 my lonely end
but I suppose not at funerals itself.
Abusuapanin, mo nso obesore agyina The head of the family will get up boldly
Abusua do funu -Asante Brothers The family loues a dead body Jbeka ntam se 'momfa m'adee mma me' He will swear and say 'give me my thing'
'Momfa me funu mma me' 'Give me my corpse'
[Spoken] Jpe se osi ne konko oo He wants to commercialise it
- Barima Osei - Barima Osei M'awieee oo 0 myend
- Menua - My brorher
- Se mpaninfoo ka se abusua do funu a zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
- If the elders say that the family loves Driver Kwasi Manu Driver Kwasi Manu
unrnmoa a dead body they are not lying. Jfiri Ahafa Ayomuso He comes from Ahafo Ayomuso
- Ebaa ne sen? - How did it come about? [teil me] Jka n 'asem bisa a Wh at the family has to say upon his
- K:J bioe se nna no mema me ntoma so, se - Go and see, one of these days I put on dea abusua nim ara ne se questions is
mereko ayie ase. Temanmuhunu bi ayie ase my cloth to go to a funeral. Ït was the 'bra, ma yenni' 'come, Ier's share'
na mekoe oo. funeral of a worthless person that I Enye 'bra, ma yenko pe' Ït is not 'corne, let's go and work for it'
K:J bioe barima da h», kente yede abuabua attended. I went and saw the man lying in Wawu a anka ato adidie mu ma abusua But if he would die, the succession would
ne ho. state, and the kente they used to cover his manso bring misunderstanding within the family
Jte asee nsoso sempoa mpo wnya bi nni. body. But while he was alive, he didn't 'Wu na menni w 'adee' nti Because of' die and let me inherit your
- Awiase nye de saa oo. even have a pesewa to eat. Se woda abusua mu property'
- Yeeeee! Yenye yen ho ayie ansa na yewu. - The world is not sweet like that. na se woyare a If you are part of a family and you are sick
- Abusua do funu. - Yeeeee! We have to mourn ourselves Yenni sika yede a htoe wo They don'r have money to look after you
before we die. Wowu nso dee ara, yede sika ye w 'ayie paa But if you die, they get money to make
- The family loves a dead body. agye nsabodee your funeral successful to receive
Abusua do funu ntera donations
Abusua kyiri eka oo, Akwasi The family truly loves a dead body
M'aioieee oo 0 the family doesn'r like debr, Akw asi
80 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ayeeee, hmmm, abusua do funu paa Ayeeee, hmmm, the family loves a dead
Meye me ho ayie oo b_ody very much zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
0 I mourn myself
(Transcription and rranslation Joana Gyau and MdW)
In this song the discrepancy berween lack of care for sick or old people and lavish
funerals is expressed and criticised in plain terms. To explain this paradox between
what he calls 'pre- and post-mortem care', Van der Geest (1995) makes a distinction
between the private and the public sphere. Care for infirm elderly is more or less a
private affair, which stays out of sight for the rest of the community. Although insuf-
ficient care for elderly family members is disapproved of, ir results much less in pub-
lic disgrace (Van der Geest 1995: 38). Public disgrace is a vety sensitive point and
everything is clone to avo id this. In the same way, good care for one' s family does not
yield much public recognition, and 'public honour is of greater importance than pri-
vate welfare' (ibid.: 38). From good post-mortem care, however, one does gain pub-
lic honour. Fora funeral is held in the public sphere. A funeral is a community event
and the displayed wealth and the number of visitors are visible to everybody.
Funerals are the occasions for families to enhance their social prestige. Ït seems to be
less about respect and care for the deceased than about self-glorification of the family
and care for the continuity of the family status. 'A good funeral not only confers
prestige upon the family in the sense chat it demonstrates that the members of the
family are successful in life, and are respected and admired by ethers: it also makes a
public display of solidarity within the family' (Van der Geest 1995: 38).
The funeral as a big family celebration may be an attempt to make up for the dimin-
ishing family coherence and solidarity in present times. A funeral offers a kind of
time-out to reflect on norms and values and the changing reality. Although the
modern nuclear family is cherished by some as the modern way of life, traditional
family ideals of mutual care and co-operarion are still much alive in the minds of
many people. Just as the dead person is at his own funeral recreated as an ideal per-
son (Chapter 1), an image of the ideal family is publicly presented at family funerals.
And this ideal image ccnsists of a wealrhy family whose members travel abroad to
make a career and earn money, but who are still close and come together in harmony
and rnutual understanding to share in their grief and to jointly express their respect
for their dead loved one. The funeral may wel! be the only life event from which the
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
family can gain prestige as family. Therefore families are eager to defend their con-
trol over this event and exploit the occasion when it comes.
CHAPTER 3 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDC
Community and Death:
Attending F unerals
There are three funerals in town today, September 26th 1998. Yaa Mansah and I
will visit all of them. I go to her house to dress up (siesie ho). First we eat fufu, while
Yaa Mansah's granddaughter is already busy ironing the black funeral cloth, We
put on our cloth, and tie a headscarf on our heads. Yaa Mansah teaches me how to
tie it in a fashionable way, with the knot on top of my head. She herself ties it the
'old lady's way', with the knot in the neck, and puts on a watch and a necklace. She
uses kohl to blacken her eyebrows, puts on lipstick, and sprays a lot of perfume on
our bodies. We shine our black slippers and set off. In the srreets we meet some
other mourners, all clad in black. They are friends ofYaa Mansah and we decide to
go together as a group. Before reaching the funeral grounds, we all contribute about
(/:2,000 to the total amount to be donated. Then we go and greet the mourners. We
forma line, the men first, followed by the women, and shake hands with everybody
on the front row, while waving to those sitting behind. When we have found a place
to sit, the women of the bereaved family come to welcome us. New people arrive
and greet us and all ether mourners. A female family member comes and asks us
what we like to drink and we take Coke and Fanta. As soon as we finish drinking it's
time to make our donation. Yenlo bo nsa, Iets go and donate. I collect the money
and Yaa Mansah instructs me: 'rnention all our names, teil them the amount we are
giving, and make sure they write it down.' Another woman of our group and I walk
to the rable where a few male representatives of the family are sitting to receive the
money. I hand the banknotes over to thern, One of thern counts it and puts it in the
wooden box on the table. Another one accurately writes down the name of the
giver, Agyapomaa & co., and the amount given in a note book and a third one
writes out a receipt with the deceased's portrait printed on it and hands it over to
me. As soon as we are sitting down again, some women of the family come and
thank us. Our names and the amount given are then loudly announced to the pub-
lic. A short while later we go and dance with a few women. While we are dancing in
front of the adowa group, some other women join us, waving white handkerchiefs
and making gestures of appreciation. After this we leave for the next funeral. We
have clone what we have to do. People have seen us, we have greeted rhem, we have
been welcomed by the family, we have drunk something, we have made a donation,
and we have danced. We can go now. As we are going, we meet ether people, who
82 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
are, just as we do, going up and down from funeral to funeral. Today, everybody in
Bekwai is busy visiting funerals.
In this chapter I wil! examine how, at one level, community is constituted during
funeral celebracions and how, at another level, conflicts and differences becween
people are elaborated and commented upon. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The hometown
For an Asante, the hometown (korum) is the place where his or her family, chat is the
rnother, comes from. A person may never have lived there, s/he may not even be
bom there, ic is still his/her hometown. And the hometown is part of one's identity.
Mentioning where one has one' s roots is essential in meeting somebody new. People
whose hometown is unknown are always suspicious. The people in your hometown
are, even if you dcn't know them because you have been away for too long, 'your
people'. Just like the family, the hometown is somethingone doesn't choose and can
never change. Ic will always be your hornerown, wherever you go. It zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
is the only place
where you are nota stranger. This counts in life, but maybe even more so in death. Ic
is generally expected chat people who have migrated have to come back to the home-
town when they grow old to retire and eventually die at home and to be buried in the
ground of their ancestors.
Membership in a village or town is based on family membership. Only if your are
part of a family with ancestral roots in the town, you area full town member. Even if
your family has migrated from elsewhere to the town many generations ago, you are
still somehow considered a scranger. Because of the close link becween family and
hometown, 'the hometown is the focus of all abusua events, and most people take
great pride in the village they call home' (Scucki 1995= 47). Norms and values of soli-
darity, honour, and respect are cherefore of great importance in the relation becween
an individual and the people of his/her hornetown.
Every Asante is a citizen of his/her hometown and this implies that people have
obligations towards their hometown. If chey stay in the town, they have to engage in
communal labour, or help the community financially. Everybody has to pay certain
fees and local taxes. Many rural towns for example have set up community funeral
funds. In Kensere, a small town close to Bekwai, every citizen, whether staying
inside or outside the town, has to pay a 'town contribution' of q:300 to the fund
upon visiting a funeral (apart from the donation to the bereaved family). Names and
contributions are recorded in a book. The town council uses this fund to give
croo.ooo to every bereaved family. Even people who have migrated may continue
assisting cheir hometown community. Wealthy citizens may donate money for
development projects or set up certain funds. Another very important sign of one's
roots and continued involvement in the hornetown is to build a house there. Mi-
grants who cravel to make money elsewhere are expected to use at least part of chat
Community and Death: Attending Funerals 83
money to build a house in their hometown. One ofVan der Geest's informants tells
about a very rich man who had failed to do so: 'He had a nice building at the village
[where he had his farm] which could be compared to buildings at Nkawkaw but
because he did not have one in his hornetown, people did not regard him. The corn-
ments people made afrer his death were that he did wel! but failed to put up a build-
ing' (Van der Geest 1998a: 334). He further said that 'you may have many houses all
over Ghana, but if you have none in your hometown it is shameful' (ibid.: 352). A
house is a concrete symbol ofbelonging, of home. It also creates the possibility- and
shows the intention - to evencually return to the hometown. Joana's project of
building a house in Bekwai is also a strategy of establishing a proper place where she
and her children can, in the future, be at home.
That the sense ofhometown identity and solidarity remains strong despite wide-
spread migration is also clear from the hometown or district associations that mi-
grants have formed not only in large towns like Kumasi or Accra (Barcle 1978), but
also in the diaspora. In Amsterdam, there are many associations (fekuo) of people
originating from the same district or town, each headed by a chief and a queen-
mother. I spoke with Nana Osei Prempeh, the chief ofKwabre in the Netherlands.
Some of the goals of such hometown groups are to assist each other in case of need
(death, marriage, sickness), to keep Asante culture alive by organising festivals and
celebrations, and to assist in the development of their town by providing goods,
money, or organisational assiscance. Such groups inceract with the associations from
the same district in England, Germany, Belgium, and the us. Ghanaian hometowns
have been extended across international borders.
Bekwai, we can say, is a town between city and village. Many people living in
Bekwai have their hometown elsewhere, a village close by or some place far away.
Many people originating from Bekwai, too, live elsewhere, mosdy in Kumasi, Accra,
or abroad, and come home once in a while. I know very few people who don't have
one or more relatives abroad. Connections with outside are thus plenciful. Yer, the
sense of town community is qui te strong. People know each other and are associated
wirh each other. They are involved in each ether' s forcunes and in town matters and
evencs. Social control is strong and so are tattle and gossip. The two main streets in
the centre of town are the place of public activity. That is where the market is, the
bus and taxi station, where street commerce goes on, and where most shops and
small businesses are. Ic is there chat people meet and pieces of news are exchanged. Ic
is also at one of the open spaces in the centre that most funerals take place. People
walking around town cannot be unaffected by funeral celebrations going on. At the
same time, a funeral in town is a major reason for urban migrants to come home. As
Barde also notes in his study of rural-urban migration in Kwahu (1978), the irnpor-
tance of funerals in maintaining hometown identity is great, especially when the
community is dispersed by migration.
 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Community and Death: Attending Funerals 85
84 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

a day or two in attending the actual funeral; they make a donation to the family; and
they drink together. In the olden days fasting was generally clone by all people of the
community, which made thern physically even more involved in the event of death.
Today, this is not clone any longer and it is usually only old and dosely related peo-
ple who may fast. The most important thing in 'helping a bereaved family to mourn'
is physical presence. The actual length of the stay, in the family house or at the
funeral, is not so important; being there is what matters. Visiting a funeral is vety
much a matter of presenting yourself, of seeing and being seen. As Joana made dear
when we visited the funeral of Agnes Ankobiah (introduction), the 'greeting ritual',
whereby arriving mourners go round the whole place to shake hands with everybody
(kyiakyia), is essential for being seen. The absence of certain groups or individuals is
noted and commented upon, not only by the family, hut also by the other mourners.
Video again plays an important role here, as it records the people present. The inter-
est in being seen then extends into being recorded and having your presence fixed
for future review. A video man cold me chat the first rule for making a funeral cover-
age is to make sure chat everybody appears on the tape. I have watched several of
such tapes and indeed the main part of the video always consists of people passing
by and people sitting down. Not very interesting for an outsider, hut all the more
for chose concerned. My co-watchers' comments on the funeral videos generally
concentrated more on the people appearing on the screen than on what actually
WOMAN DANCING MOURNFULLY ATA BURIAL zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
happened.
A death in town Being present, however, is not enough. One should also wear the right clothing,
black or other clark coloured funeral doch (ayie ntoma). Most people have several
When a person in Bekwai dies, this is made known to the community by several funeral costumes or clorhs, so chat they don't have to appear in the same doch evety
means. The first announcement of the death is the wailing of people in the house. Saturday. The doch should be matched with a black head tie (for women) and black
The news will furrher spread from rnouth to rnouth. As soon as the family has slippers. By wearing black one shows respect to the bereaved family and to the dead.
decided upon the date of the funeral, they will announce this through the loud- Not wearing black (or red) is a sign of disrespect. Once I attended a funeral where a
speaker van chat goes around town, through the town announcer in the main srreet, madman in a white shirt walking around funeral ground was loudly chased away by
through one of the regional radio stations, or through posters with pictures chat they a woman. When I asked why, the answer was 'Htoel Yen ani abre saa na wahye fi.taa!'
post up all over town, It will not take long before the whole community is inforrned Look! (an expression of indignation) We are seriously bereaved and he is wearing
white! The white shirt was considered a big insult and this should be made dear to
of the death chat has occurred.
everybody.
Spiritually, black and other clark colours (tuntum) are related to God and the
COMMUNITY BUILDING
ancestors and point to power, dynamics, time, changes, and destiny (Bartle 1983, see
A death in town, and especially the death of an important or well-known person, is a also Chapter r). This can also be seen in the blackening of ancestral stools or the use
major occasion for town solidarity. For many people it is obvious to attend every of black doch and day in ceremonies connected with time and power changes, like
funeral in town, and to make a donation everywhere. On a Saturday morning a the enstoolment of a new chief or king. Black, thus, does not so much symbolise
woman told me, while looking at the funeral posters on a wal!, 'we have four funerals mourning and grief, as it does in Western cultures, hut the changes in the life cycle,
today, we'll spend money! What will we eat tomorrow?' Enne yewJ ayie nnan, yebeb, death, reincarnation, the power of the ancestors, the course of time, history and tra-
ka oo! Na ,kyena yebedi deen? But not attending the funerals was no option. dirion. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ic is rather the colour red and the absence of white chat point to the sorrow of
A death brings together the people of the town in certain ways. They visit the be- the mourners. But the black colour of funeral doch is not only the conventional
reaved family to offer their condolences; they all wear black funeral cloth; they spend symbol for death, the bond with the ancestors, and the passing of time, hut also an
86 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
expression of the bond between the people of the town, an icon of the solidarity
norm. Everybody wearing black shows that s/he is committed to the misfortune that
has befallen one family in the community, that s/he is sharing in the grief.
Another crucial act of solidarity is to make a financial donation (b:J nsa) to the
bereaved family as a contribution to the funeral costs. Giving an amount of money,
usually a few thousand cedis per persen, and having it announced to the public is
one of the major happenings at a funeral celebration. The people of the community
not only share in the grief, but also bear part of the financial burden of death. The
donation system is an intricate game of accountancy. The donations are accurately
written down and receipts are written out for the givers, so that both the givers and
the receivers have the amount given black on white. The amount people choose to
give often depends upon the quality of the drinks and maybe snacks they get. Being
served with beer or spirits requires a higher gift rhan a soft drink, which is most com-
mon, or, even cheaper, a bag of water. When I asked Joana at a certain funeral how
much we were going to donate, she said 'well, let's see, the meat pie and the chips
may have been cr.ooo, the coke zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
ct6oo, so we will add sorne and donate cs.ooo
rogether. At another funeral ic surprised me chat Yaa Mansah did not cake a drink
when offered one. 'No,' she said co me, 'I won't drink, I am not going to donate.'
But as the visitors weigh the drinks againsc the donacions, so do the family members.
Usually, while they serve the guests, they keep notes of who drinks what and these
may be compared to the donation receipt book when they make up the balance later.
At the moment icself, explicitly going to chank the giver for the donation is a public
acknowledgement of the donation and of the obligation to make a return gift on a
future occasion.
Visiting funerals and making a donation are obligations based on the principle of
reciprocity. Someone who never attends any funeral and never contributes anyrhing
to the costs wil! be blamed for lack of respect and cannot count on a high number of
visitors at his/her own funeral. And since the number of visicors largely determines
the success of the funeral, this is not a very good prospect. Fulfilling social obliga-
tions and expectations to ensure the success of one's own future funeral or a funeral
in one's own family is therefore an important mocive for attending funerals in the
community. Funerals, as the most important social events, are about creating, main-
caining, and strengchening relationships. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
As Kwame Arhin strongly puts ic: 'The
public aspects of funeral rites area substitute for the parcies of business men.'
Ina society where many chings in life are organised through informal networks, it
is not surprising that investment in social relations is high. People spend a loc of
money on people instead of saving it. Money is the social binding agent in reciprocal
relationships. Money that circulates is not only the glue chat binds rwo people - the
donor and the recipient - , but the whole community. By publicly giving money one
cakes part in the systern of money circulacion and so legicimises one's place in che
community. I have strongly experienced this during my fieldwork. My grandmothers
were very fond of boasting abouc their white granddaughcer. Whenever one of thern
Community and Death: Attending Funerals 87
told visirors that I carne from Bekwai and they would not believe it, she would legiri-
mise her claim by saying 'sure she is from here, she goes co every funeral to donate
money', :Jfiri ha ampa, :Jk:J ayie biara ak:Jb:J nsa. Then the matter would be closed.
And whenever I walked around Bekwai in funeral doch, especially during the begin-
ning of my scay, when my presence and activicies were not yet known to everybody,
people would ask me 'u/aba ayie?', have you come to the funeral? The next question
always was 'ioabo nsa?', have you donated?, followed by 'sen?', how much? Giving
money in Ghana is nothing like the taboo-like affair ic is in the Netherlands, where
giving money as a present is already a bit suspect and banknotes to be presented
should always be in a sealed envelop. In Ghana it is exactly the public nature of
money giving that makes ir meaningful (cf. Van der Geest 1997).
The social ties that are maintained by exchanging donations and drinks at a
funeral are furcher strengthened by the thanksgiving round, k:J aseda, that takes place
in the week following the funeral. Members of the bereaved family then go to peo-
ple' s houses to thank thern for having come to mourn with thern at the funeral. Peo-
ple may travel quite far for aseda. When I was still staying in Trede, Nana carne to
thank all Trede people who had come to the funeral of her brother. Nana, Joana and
I visited about ten houses. In every house we spent only a few minuces, did not sit
down, and thanked the people concerned with a handshake. Again, physically
thanking someone is important. A phone call or a post card would not do.
From the forgoing account we can see chat the main acrions entailed in visiting a
funeral in the community are direcced at maintaining and strengthening the ties with
individuals, families, and with the community as a whole. Vollbrechc also states in
her srudy chat a funeral brings together the people from the village and strengthens
cheir community spirit, because the ceremony blurs categories that otherwise distin-
guish people and give thern status. All are equal because all wear the same funeral
clothes, all must contribute to the funeral through physical presence and money, and
all must fast. A funeral so reconfirrns the cosmology and social values of solidarity and
good life on which the society is based (1978: 326, 333). Her concluding statement is
that 'the full participation of the village members in this single ritual expresses and
reaffirms their commitment to asense of sharedcommunity' (Vollbrecht 1978: 342).
A similar statement is made by Nana Annoh-Oprensern, commenting on the
advantages of Ghanaian funerals:
'Funerals bring the rich and the poor rogether. They mix without discrimination.
Three weeks ago I, as head of family, attended a funeral in a village. The village is
without pipe-borne water and electricity. The road leading to the village was not
good. However, people carne in their Benz and BMW. Ochers walked long dis-
tances to the village. People carne from as far as Kumasi, Accra, T akoradi, Kade
etc. There were some university students, secondary school pupils, students from
the Polytechnics, business men, soldiers, farmers - all shared in the grief' (Nana
Annoh-Oprensern, personal correspondence).
88 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Although this aspect of common participation and shared grief stressed by both an
outside researcher and an inside commentator cannot be overlooked, my experience
is that a funeral is at the same time often the occasion for acting out the differences
between people, just because it brings thern together in a single ritual. Differences
and conflicts that exist berween the people of the community itself- between different
families, berween rich and poor, between different church groups - and differences
that distinguish villagers from city people.
CONFLICT IN THE COMMUNITY
Once during my first stay in Ghana, a funeral visitor asked me 'Why are you not
wearing black?' I had walked into the village without knowing there was a funeral
going on. Joana had not told me and thus also had not given mea black dress to put
on, because there was a long-standing conflict berween her and the family con-
cerned. 'So because they are giving me these troubles, I don't want to be solidary with
thern', she explained to me later and the split with this family extended, of course, to
me, being her daughter. Consciously not wearing black was a clear and deliberate
expression of the conflict between the rwo families. To wear black would in this case
have been more than an act of respect, an attempt to reconcile. Just as wearing black
and attending a funeral are signs of solidarity, not wearing black can be an outright
sign of quarrel or discord. While at one level the equality of death and the ritual con-
text of a funeral may strengthen the sense of community, it is at the same time the
context in which differences are emphasised and conflicts are played out.
The funeral of Mr. George Owusu Agyeman (see also Chapter 2) was a funeral
that elicited much talk in town and brought to the surface some of the conflicts in
Bekwai. Certain people did deliberately not attend this important funeral. Yaa
Mansah, who normally attends every funeral, refused to go because of an 'asem
kakraka' (a very big case). The entire traditional council did not attend either, The
asem kakraka turned out to be closely related to the chieftancy dispute going on in
Bekwai for eight years already. There are rwo parties in the chieftancy dispute. On
the one side there is the royal Oyoko abusuapanin Nana Kwasi Aboraa and his fol-
lowers. He is supported (or, as some people say, exploited) by the influential
paramountchief of Essumegya, N ana Oduro N umapau. The late Owusu Agyeman
and his family were on his side. On the other side there is the rest of the Oyoko clan
and the traditional council. The history of the conflict, as told to me by N ana Asiedu
II, kuntirehene of Bekwai, is as follows.
Eight years ago the chief at that time, Nana Osei Kwadwo, was destooled because
of some crimina! activities. The head of the royal Oyoko clan Nana Kwasi Aboraa
was supposed to nominate a new chief.' There were rwo candidates, but 'out of fear'
he did not make a choice, but mentioned both names to the 'kingmakers'. They
then made their choice and started with the enstoolment ofNana Tutu Akate II as
the new paramountchief (omanhene) ofBekwai. He was, however, not accepted by
Community and Death: Attending Funerals 89
the abusuapanin and apart of the royal family. The case went to court in 1993 and
the kuntirehenewas summoned to postpone the enstoolmenr until a judgement had
been made. The kingmakers were already in the middle of the enstoolment process
and continued with it. Mr. Owusu Agyeman had by then retired as a judge already,
but, being on the abusuapanin's side, he influenced the judge in charge of the case,
who sent six members of the traditional council to prison, because they had ne-
glected the court's decree. They served one month in prison, but appealed to the
High Court afterwards, won the case concerning their imprisonment, and were
retrospectively cleared of charge. Due to this conflict, however, the kingmakers
could not complete the full cycle of installation ceremonies before Nana Tutu Akate
died in April 1997. His funeral too, then, was subject to much conflict, because the
people who had never accepted him as a legitimate chief tried to prevent the royal
burial the council was organising for him. Threatening letters were sent to the
kuntirehene to stop the burial, but they went on with the preparations. After much
delay, the dead chief, who had been in the fridge for over a year, was buried in J une
1998 according to an omanbenes status. NanaAsiedu showed me the video. 'We did
a very successful burial. So many people carne', he said. While watching the video,
he continuously stressed the big crowd of people present, thereby proving the popu-
larity ofNana Akate and legicimising his position as omanhene and his own right in
organising a royal burial for him. The case as to whether he was a legitimate chief or
not, however, is still pending in court so no new chief can occupy the vacant Bekwai
2
stool. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
'There is no peace in Bekwai', people complained about this ongoing conflict.
These tensions played up during the funeral of Mr. Owusu Agyeman. During a
conversation I had with Nana Asiedu one day before the burial, he rold me he still
blames Owusu Agyeman and his family for him having served in prison unneces-
sary. Because of that he would not attend his burial and funeral and he would nei-
ther allow any member of the traditional council to attend. And although he is a
royal, Owusu Agyeman may also not be buried in the royal mausoleum. They would
prevent this by any means. The funeral on Saturday, on the other hand, would be
held in front of the palace, as all royal funerals. But, Nana Asiedu commented, not
where your funeral is held is important, hut where you are buried.
The controversy about Owusu Agyeman's place ofburial has much to do with a
dividing line within the community, which was of much bigger significance in the
olden days than it is now, namely chat between chose who are blood relatives of the
stool occupant, the 'royals', and chose who are not. The royal family is the lineage
chat 'owns' the ancescral stool of the town and from which the chiefis chosen. In the
olden days the distinction between 'royals', 'commoners', and 'slaves' divided the
society in three segments for whom different rules counted (Rattray 1929). At pres-
ent, in daily life the difference berween being a royal and not being a royal is very
small, hut at death one's royal status becomes crucial for the ceremonies performed.
A person of royal blood is laid in state 'according to his/her royal status', with gold
dust, golden jewellery, and ceremonial swords. The funeral is held in front of the
90 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
chief's palace and the body is not buried at the communal cemetery, but at a special
burial place in the bush, which is surrounded by secrecy. Nobody knows the exact
place, burial takes place in the middle of the night and nobody, except close family
and a few insiders, is allowed to go. While the kuntirehene told me he would not
allow the family to bury Owusu Agyeman in the royal mausoleum, thereby denying
his royal status, a niece of the deceased told me they would by all means bury him
there. 'He was a royal, so he can not be buried at the normal cernetery. Theywill take
him to that place around midnight and nobody wil! go with thern. From seven or
eight in the evening everybody wil! go home. They will run away out of fear. They
will chase the people away and throw salt.' When I asked her whether I could be
present, she hesitated, but agreed that it would be an interesting occasion for me to
write about. When it carne to the crunch on Thursday evening, however, the ten-
sion was in the air and my request to stay met so much resistance with everybody,
that I was forced to go home. When I later asked people where he had been buried, zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
all they would teil me was 'I don't know, they took him toa secret place.'
Although most people held themselves far from the secret, nocturnal burial, the
celebrations prior to and following ir were a matter of much public concern. For peo-
ple of the community and for people of the royal family irself too, like Yaa Mansah,
not showing up at any of the funeral ceremonies for Owusu Agyeman was a public
sign of which party in the chieftancy conflict they sided with. This funeral also gave
people cause to express their discontent about the ongoing conflict, and to gossip
about the royal family. Such gossip, at least as far as it reached my ears, mainly con-
cerned wealth, opportunism, unjustifiable pride, connections with powerful people,
selfish behaviour, and genera! disapproval of the quarrels within the royal family or of
royalty as such. The death of Owusu Agyeman made very clear that big funerals of
important people are major arenas for expressing politica! support or opposition.
Gilbert analyses the competition over control of the funeral of a rich Ghanaian
businessman in her article 'The Sudden Death of a Millionaire' (1988). When chis
powerful man unexpectedly died in Germany, his wealth, prestige, and status, reli-
gious adherence and community affiliations all became subject to negotiation. He
descended from rwo opposed towns chat borh claimed him as a citizen. His wealth
and power gave him, although a commoner, a kind of chiefly status. He associated
himself, however, with the Presbyterian Church (the 'establishment' Christians),
something incompatible with traditional chieftancy (in Gilberr's account at least).
He had four wives and educated his children in Europe. Gilbert beautifully describes
how during the preparations for his funeral the ambiguities and contradictions in his
multiple affiliations carne to the open.
Masquelier writes in her clarifying account of burial conflicts berween religious
groups in a rural town in Niger chat death 'has become an occasion for the display of
difference, inequality, and cornpetition rather than the expression of communal
identity' (n.d.: 26). The same applies, as I have shown, to the Asante case. It is not
only uniry and solidarity that are celebrated at funerals. There is more to it rhan the
Community and Death: Attending Funerals 9I
mourning cloth the whole community wears, the financial contributions everybody
makes, and the dance in which most participate. Behind this scene of communality,
things may be going on that divide people in the community and that become espe-
cially delicate when an important person has died. I believe there is always a tension
between the ideal image of oneness and the realiry of division and conflict. And ir is
at funerals more than at any other occasion, that this tension is reinforced, because it
is a time that both public images and hidden conflicrs become very significant.
CoMPETITION
Another somehow controversial funeral, be it for different reasons, was that of Agnes
Ankobiah (see introduction). While at Owusu Agyeman's funeral it was mainly a
politica! conflict that divided the community, here it was more a matter of rich and
poor. Agnes' funeral was a ve1y big, well-organised, well-atrended, and classy funer-
al. The golden coffin from Europe, the decorations of the body and of the house, the
car that took the body to the cemetery, the beautiful cars of the visitors, the special
sign boards all over town, the full coloured posters and funeral programmes, the
take-away food served on Sunday, everything about this funeral was a bit more, a bit
bigger, or a bit nicer than is usual in Bekwai. It elicited whispers, 'have you seen the
coffin? They say they have brought it from Europel', rumours about the husband
who stays in Aburokyire and couldn't be present, 'they say it's because of the Green
Card, but ... That's how they are when they go and enjoy life over there,' and out-
right criticism, 'why should they spend so much money? They just want to show
that they are bogas [people who have been to Europe].'' People looked at it with a
mixture of admiration, criticism, and envy. According to some people it was far
overdone. But when I later asked people what would be a good funeral according to
thern, many referred to this one as an example of a 'very fine funeral', a funeral one
would dream of so to say. Maybe in Kumasi it had not been so special, but in Bekwai
it was.
In Chapter 2 I have described the funeral as a source of family prestige. Families
wil! be measured by the way they see their dead off. In organising a funeral, then,
many families do their best to outdo other funerals in the neighbourhood or town.
This competition is aptly articulated by Nana Akwasi Agyeman, the mayor of
Kumasi, who stated chat 'if he found anyone performing a funeral more elaborate
than what he did for his mother, he would celebrate his rnother's funeral again and
again' (quoted by Nana Annoh-Oprensern, Daily Graphic July 25, 1998). The coffin,
the kind of entertainment, food and refreshments provided, the house, the decora-
tions, the adosoa show, all are objects of competition. Agnes Ankobiah's funeral
would not be easily outdone by other funerals in Bekwai. If there were one rhat
could rival it, it would be Owusu Agyeman's funeral. This kind of cornpetition
between families has nurtured a trend of increasingly grand and expensive funerals.
Consequently, when there are more funerals in town at one day, the funeral prornis-
92 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
ing to be the most entertaining attracts the highest number of visitors. This has in
turn fuelled attempts by chiefs to curtail fll)'leral spending (see Chapter 6).
Wichin this overall funeral game of families surpassing each other in grandness
and style, each funeral itself is an arena for competition between individuals. Fu-
nerals are about seeing and being seen. The mere time spent in dressing up indicates
already chat attending a funeral is presenting yourself. First of all clothing is what
people gain status from. Some women make ic a point to show up in new funeral
cloth (ayie ntoma) every Saturday, or at least at every important funeral. Preferably
this should be Dutch Wax, the best quality cloth, very expensive and highly desir-
able. They match it with jewels and accessories, make-up and perfume and make
sure everybody sees thern. But for men too clothing is important. Where for women
the size of the sleeves is a status indicator, for men ic is the size of the entire doch.
With pompous gestures and much elegance rhey repeatedly drape their ntoma in
folds around their bodies. I will come back to funeral fashion in the next chapter.
Here it suffices to say that a funeral is where people try to come to the fore by pre-
senting chemselves as successful individuals.
Ic is however not only a show of beauty and riches chat people attract attention
with. At several funerals I have seen people wailing excessively, rolling on the
ground, running around or shocking the public in others ways. By showing deep
grief conspicuously they present themselves as being the person most affected by the
death. One funeral I attended in particular was such a theatre of extravagant expres-
sion of emotions. It was the burial of George Baffour. George was the nephew of my
grandmother Yaa Mansah, the son of her brother who runs a chemica! store in the
main street in Bekwai, next to the family house. He died of a throat tumour at the
age of 28. Because he was so young, his funeral was very dramatic. Ic was the most
poignant funeral I have experienced. Ït attracted a crowd of people, among whom
many friends, students from the 'Polytech' in Kumasi where he was studying, and
teachers and pupils from the school where he was teaching. George was laid in state
in his father's family house. Bekwai's main street was closed off with barriers and a
crowd had gathered in front of the house. A brass band was playing on the street. At
the courtyard people were forcing their way through the crowd towards the bed,
pushing each other and fighting to see the corpse. In several ways boundaries were
broken. People got out of their senses of grief. Both women and men were crying
vehemently. Some guys threw firecrackers into the public, causing panic. Others
were rolling on the Boor, pouring water over themselves or making noise by scream-
ing, hitting bells, or tooting horns. Some young people, friends I believe, were
dressed remarkably. A few men wore plain red women's dresses. Others had their
head and face covered with a big black scarf, red stockings, or a red party wig.
George's sister wore a chain of condoms around her neck while waving with more,
because he was not mar ried yet, she said. One boy was holding a plastic container as
if it was a video camera and 'recorded' the scene. Many people were drunk. The bar
next door, the 'Star Nice Club', was totally integrared in the over-all scene of chaos,
Community and Death: Attending Funerals
93
hysteria and drunkenness. Several times small fighrs broke out. A drunken boy
evoked trouble when he picked up the amplifier of the guitar band, put ic on his
head and started dancing with it. When the empty coffin was brought in, the lid
broke when people tried to grab it. When George was put into the coffin behind a
curtain, one ofhis friends was denied access and tried to fight his way in. Friends and
brorhers fought about who was to carry the coffin. Amidst all this tumult, the Angli-
can priest tried to say his prayers over the coffin and the church choir sang their
hymns, but nobody seemed to pay much attention, On the way to the cernetery,
young men were pushing and pulling the coffin, which was transported on a hand-
cart. A group of young people were running up and down, pushing through the
crowd while singing 'msei bayifo, wo na wakum no' (let him destroy the witch, it's
you who killed him), thus reminding of the old practice of 'carrying the corpse'
(afunsoa) to find the witch responsible for the premature death. When we arrived at
the cemetery, a boy was standing in the grave and refused to come out. Three men
were needed to pull him out before the coffin could be put in.
Later, my friend Atta wrote me about the practice of soroku:
'Of lare, from the late 8os coming, when a youch between the age of 18 and 40 dies,
a soroku brass band is hired and all the youth dress funnily. Some boys would wear
blouse and handkerchief, paint their faces black and put red band on their head
and wrist, signifying chat chey are in serious business. Their female counterparts
put on men's dress such as trousers with red bands allzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHG
over. Normally their dresses
are black-black or red-red. Wich this they go on procession while dancing, jump-
ing etc. This is becoming fashionable of late. Afrer chat they would try to beat
or insult the deceased's rnother for killing him. Always, their point is chat the
deceased's death was untimely' (Acta Asare-Bediako, personal correspondence).
One ofVollbrecht' s informants states very clearly chat 'when someone is upset, they
do not obey the rules. If they do, chat shows they are not really upser' (1978: 315). Not
keeping rules therefore, is a sign of real sorrow. Many people disapprove of such
unruly behaviour, but at the same time it is also good, because it is a sign of a strong
emotional bond wich the deceased, which is much valued. Although the above-
described burial of George Baffour was an exception, at many funerals I attended
some disturbances or breaking of rules occurred, usually due to drunkenness or sud-
den outbreaks of grief.
When a person dies young, as in the case of George, the death may be attribuced
to evil forces. The witch responsible is usually thought to be somebody related to the
deceased. Not crying or showing sorrow otherwise could thus rise suspicion.
Although I have not experienced this myself, I was told that the dead, while lying in
state, may be addressed by one of the mourners and asked to point out who killed
him or her. Somebody among the mourners is indirectly, via the dead body,
accused. Showing excessive grief, then, is a way of pleading innocence. I am not verv
94 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Community and Death: Attending Funerals zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSR
95

sure of the extent tozyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIH

which such witchcraft beliefs are still alive and influence rnourn-
ing behaviour. Many people I talked to expressed a vague notion of spiritual death
causes, but I have heard no concrete stories of witchcra:ft accusations or suspicions.
As far as I know George's morherwas not 'beaten or insulted for killinghim', neirher
did the people running up and down and singing really accuse somebody of witch-
craft. Bayie, wirchcrafr, is first of all an idiom for streng, dramatic language. Bur
whether witchcraft beliefs are involved or not, displaying extravagant grieving
behaviour remains a way of competing for the favour of the dead and, through him
or her, of the rnourners.'

CITY AND VILLAGE

Another difference acred out at funerals, especially in rural towns, is that between
city and village. Like in most of Africa, towns in Ghana have grown rapidly over the
last decades due to an intensifying rural-urban migration stream. The urban popula-
tion increased from 23.0 percent of the total national population in 1960 to 31.3 per-
cent in 1984 (Apr 1996: 35). What makes people decide to leave their village for a
town or city is a combination of the pull of employment and education opportu-
nities and urban identiry and the push of village constraints like the obligations to-
THE BURIAL OF GEORGE BAFFOUR wards the extended family and the hardships of village life (akuraase abrabJ). Young
people in villages dream of the brighr city lights and many young people in the cities
dream of the paradise of the West. The differences between city and village' are
indeed big. Cities swallow up most of government investment and public good.
Urban residents have access to safe drinking water, electricity, frequent transport,
communication facilities, healrh care and other amenities, which most villages lack.
From the city perspective the village is looked down upon as backward, and dispar-
agingly called 'the bush'. From a villager's perspective the urban residenr's access to
cash rises expectations. Urban migrants should regularly send money home, build a
house in their hometown, and sponsor friends and relatives there ( cf. Arhinful 1998).
Failure to fulfil these expectations may give rise to all kinds of suspicions, rumours
6
and accusations. For the majority of urban migrants, however, city life is far from
easy. Many are forced to rake different low-paid jobs at the time while spending
most of their money on high rents and expensive food. The expectations and de-
mands of their rural relatives ofren area great burden. For many people living in the
city, there exists a tension between the urban way of life and modern identity and
the persisting ties with the home village. On the one hand people want to be modern
and do away with anything they experience as backward or traditional; on the other
hand they ofren have parents and other family members living in the rural areas and
cannot fully break with the village.
This tension between city and village, then, is particularly played out during vil-
lage funerals, since it is then, and almost only then, that city dwellers and villagers
THE BURIAL OF GEORGE BAFFOUR come together in a single, public event. An important funeral in the hometown is a
96 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
major occasion to come home to participate in it. Precisely for the reason of city and
village people coming together, people staying in the city and organising a funeral in
their hometown are much concerned about painting and repairing the house where
the funeral is held, even to the extent of connecting electricity. The numerous visi-
tors from the city will now see 'from where you are' and thus who you actually are
(cf. Van der Geest 1998a). For the visitors, a funeral in the village is also an occasion
for showing one's success and modern city lifestyle. Fine clothing, ornaments like
watches, handbags, sunglasses and high heels, and shiny Mercedeses all testify to the
desirable fact that one is a successful and modern city dweller, if not a boga. The
bodies of visitors from the city become icons of modern city life. Especially in vil-
lages without tap water, electricity and other basic amenities such an appearance
only widens the gap between village and city, contrary to Nana Annoh-Aprensern's
statement that 'they mix without discrimination.' Casually drawing a pile of fresh
bank notes from under one's elaborate cloth to distribute among relatives and
friends or to make a large funeral contribution shows that one is not reluctant to
share one's success with those who are less forrunate, but also strongly emphasises
the difference between the haves and the have-nots.
Although (financial) success in life and redistribution of wealth are highly valued
goods, this kind of showy behaviour is usually frowned upon by the nkuraasefo, (vil-
lagers). On several occasions I heard people express a strong critique on what they
refer to as 'the Accra girls'. When I was talking with joana, for instance, about a pic-
ture I had made of some fashionably dressed visitors at a funeral we attended in
Trede, I asked her who these people were and where they were from.
'They are from Accra. See rheir fancy dresses and sunglasses! As if they are going to
party! You know the man was staying in Accra, they are from there, The Ga peo-
ple, they dress up so proudish. Theywear big earrings, necklaces, kitas [nail polish,
cutex], high heels, even in the presence of the corpse! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
As for the Akans, we dress
simple in the presence of the corpse, nicely, but simple. And the Ga's, they eat and
drink a lot at their funerals! We don't eat when the corpse is there. We went to the
funeral of Patrick's aunt in Accra; we went so humble, bur they, o! all dressed up
like a show!'
Interestingly, she explains the different 'funeral dress code' as a cultural difference
between two ethnic groups and accuses the Ga's of having no marmers and no
respect for the dead. But in Accra you hear the people say chat the Asante are proud
and fond of showing off. It is true that traditionally Asante have to dress very mod-
estly at funerals, as a sign of mourning, but today, in Asante too, funerals are about
making strong identiry statements, using symbols of modernity chat distinguish
people from one another.
But inequality berween people evokes jealousy, especially when this inequality
concerns wealth, and jealousy is closely connected to witchcraft and other representa-
Community and Death: Attending Funerals zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSR
97
tions of evil. Many people staying in the city, then, fear the villagers' envy of their city
life and comparative wealth. The same, probably even stronger, applies to people
staying in Europe. Abena, who stays in The Netherlands, told me: 'My mother stays
in Kurnasi and when she visits a funeral in a village and she wears doch I have sent her
from Holland and someone says 'ioo ntoma no JE: fi,' your doch is beautiful, she says
'mat, new, Kumasi, I have bought it in Kurnasi. She doesn't want them to know it's
from Holland. Ir will make them jealous.' So while some people make efforts to show
chat they are people of the city or of the world, others try ro keep low profile, espe-
cially when visiting villages. A death in a rural town is the occasion for city people and
villagers to mix, but not without discrimination. And it is exact!y the physical close-
ness and visibility of different people who otherwise live separated, that makes people
display the inequaliry, but makes this tension rhreatening at the same time. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcb
Alternative communities
GROUP IDENTITIES ACROSS LOCAL COMMUNITY
At almost any funeral celebration one will meet groups of people that exist across
town boundaries or within the community. They will arrive at the funeral ground as
a group, greet the mourners in a single line, sit together, and make a common dona-
tion. They may do some kind of performance and have or wear certain insignia. It
can be a professional association, like an association of taxi drivers or lawyers. Usu-
ally the deceased person practised the same profession and they come to mourn and
pay their last respects to their departed colleague. Vollbrecht writes of such groups
acting out their profession in front of the corpse.
'When, for example, a mason died, the other masons in the village carne with trow-
els and bricks and other tools of their trade. Fora few minutes they acred out rheir
profession in the presence of their farmer fellow-mason. They said chat if they did
not do this, then the masons of the village would "lose the money roughly" chat
they earned from their work. [ ... ) Through this forma! separation ritual, they per-
form once more, in the presence of their colleague but without him, the work chat
they had previously shared with him and now wil! carry on in his absence'
(Vollbrecht 1978: 304).
I have never experienced such performances in Bekwai, but people said it sometimes
happens. Whenever a professional group carne to the funeral of one of their mem-
bers, often from different towns across the region or even the country, the members
carne togerher and in recognisable cloches. The group of judges and lawyers at
Owusu Agyeman's funeral wore Western, dark grey or black suit and tie. The
teacher' s association at the funeral of a young teacher wore T-shirts with the name of
98 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
their association on it. Quite often too, such a group gave a tribute, either orally or
written in the funeral prograrnme, to the deceased and praised his or her good ac-
complishments in the profession. Financial donations of professional associations
are often high. Many associations have a funeral fund to which its members contrib-
ute and have stated the arnount to be paid to the farnily in case of death of a member
or in case of death of the mother, the father or a child of a member.
Other groups to be present at funerals are church societies. Many people are not
only a member of a church, but also of a particular society within that church. At
death of one of their members, a church society usually comes in the morning to the
family house, wearing their specific, usually white church clothes, to sing hymns and
say prayers in the presence of the corpse. They may also present gifts of food like cas-
sava, plantain and tomatoes to the farnily while singing church songs, as I saw a
group of women from the Seventh Day Adventist Church doing at a funeral. Mem-
hers of the sarne society from other towns may come to join. Church groups take
an active part in the burial rites at the graveside more than any ether group. In
Chapter 5 I will come back to the role of the church and church groups.
School groups and other youth groups may also present themselves at a funeral.
I visited the funeral of a woman in her early thirties in a small village. Her husband
was a headmaster in a nearby town. A big group of school children from his school
carne to the funeral, went round to greet and sang a few songs. Then anorher group
of children and youth carne. It was a kind of Scout Association of which the women
used to be a member. They carne in a big wooden truck in their scout uniforms, per-
formed a dance and sang songs. Ata certain point in the dance the three strongest of
them took the widower on their shoulders and danced with him while carrying him
around.
Crucial in all such group performances, whether danced, sung, spoken, or writ-
ten, is the presentation of group identity to the public. By arriving and greeting as
group, wearing the sarne clothes, sitting together, making a common donation which
is announced on behalf of the group, and using insignia as flags, printed handker-
chiefs or uniforms, people make immediately clear to all that they belong together.
The members of the group show that the deceased was part of thern, they perforrn a
part of the identity of the deceased. But the individual members also present their
own identiry and affiliation. Clearly, apart from the family and the hometown, there
are more points of reference that matter to people and these become part of the pres-
entation of self at funerals.
Nimako traces the development of alrernative forms of organisation back to the
seventies. 'At that time Ghana was not only stricken by political and economie insta-
bility, but also by the collapse of its social institutions. At the same time new "soli-
darity nerworks" arose, that offered help and support in a society that was strongly
subject to erosion' (Nimako 2000: 126, original in Dutch, translation MdW). From
1971 to 1977 the number of youth associations rose from 23 to 350. The number of
religious organisations too grew exponentially (ibid.). Increased mobility and corn-
Community and Death: Attending Funerals 99
munication facilitated the forrnarion of groups that were not based on Iocaliry, as are
farnily and hometown, hut on, for instance, profession, religious or political convic-
tion, or age. Of particular interest here is the rise of so called funeral societies. This is
a voluntary saving systern, a kind of funeral insurance. Members of a society contrib-
ute a fixed arnount of money to a fund on a regular basis. This is then used to assist
the individual members upon the death of a close relative or to assist the farnily of a
member upon his/her death. With the current trend of increasingly expensive funer-
als, it has become very attractive to join a funeral society. Some societies focus en-
tirely on funerals, ethers have several aims of which funeral assistance is only one.
Many such associations too, were initially founded for funeral purposes, hut have
come to comprise more functions. But apart from funeral societies, almost any vol-
untary association, whether a church society or a professional group, has some sav-
ing system to assist members in case ofbereavement. Although they have an impor-
tant influence on the way the funeral is celebrated and contribute subsranrially to
the expenses, 'if the deceased has joined a voluntary association or funeral society, it
is still his abusua who is in charge of the funeral' (Miescher 1978: 394). Also in the
colonial days people organised rhernselves along lines that cut across blood and
hometown ties and the establishment churches have of course fulfilled thar role
much longer already. I believe, however, that in post-colonial times such new net-
works of solidariry, or alternative communities, have gained significance as new
sources of identiry, coexisting with or perhaps partly replacing the farnily group and
the hornetown as primary points of reference.
Vollbrecht argues in her dissertation that the traditionally cohesive wholeness of
the Asante community is challenged and undermined by Christianity and modern
institutions like the state, the national army, the police force, schools, and modern
professions and that as a result of this the funeral has acquired greater significance as
a kind of defence mechanism of the unity of the community. 'I wish to suggest that it
is precisely in reaction to the undermining influences of government and church in
the Ashanti villagers' sense of group, and on the values the traditional group and its
structure represents, that the funeral has acquired such importance' (Vollbrecht
1978: 57). There can be no doubt that next to the abusuaand the village or town com-
munity other, maybe 'modern', sources of idenriry have developed and gained in sig-
nificance. People may associate and identify more with professional groups, often
'modern' professions like lawyers, teachers, or policemen, Christian groups, school
groups, etc. than, let's say, half a century ago. I would suggest, however, that funerals
are not events where the traditional sense of group is reaffirmed and defended against
such 'undermining outside affiliations', but rather events where people publicly
present their multiple group affiliations as existing next to each ether.
A person is always a member of several groups at the sarne time. J oana, for
instance, belongs to her direct farnily group and to the larger Ekuona clan. She is also
a member of the Catholic Church and within the church of the St. Theresa Associa-
tion and of the Christian mothers' association. Then she is part of the midwives'
IOO Long Live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
association, of the group of diocesan health workers, and of the nurses' group of
Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital, where she was trained and worked before. Yaa
Mansah is, apart from her family and the royal Oyoko clan, an active member of the
Anglican Church and the leader of the yam traders at the Bekwai marker. For all
such groups, a funeral, and especially the funeral of a deceased member, is the occa-
sion to present group identity, using group symbols like uniforms, handkerchiefs,
headscarves, corsages, flags, beads, clan staffs and the like. For individuals, a funeral
is the occasion to show their commitment to the groups they idenrify with. The
dividing lines between such groups are always fluid, since people belong to different
groups at the same time. At many funerals I saw people wearing the symbols of dif-
ferent groups at the same time. The white blouse of the Methodist church, the
printed handkerchief of the teacher's association, and the beads of the Ekuona clan
for example. I also saw people joining different lines to greet the crowd, walking
with different groups they belonged to. Clark writes about group membership in her
study of Kumasi mar ket women:
'Many traders also belong to church women' s groups and choirs that attend mem-
bers' funerals in uniform, singing. They gain further prestige by fundraising and
attending church services together in uniform. Asantes value group membership as
such, since for many ceremonial purposes groups are virtually interchangeable. At
one funeral I accended, a middle-aged woman remarked appreciatively that the
dead woman had belonged to four ekuo, or groups: cwo church choirs, a commod-
ity group, and a benevolent society. All four groups attended en mass to make a
grand funeral such as anyone might aspire to' (1994: 269).
I have always been surprised by Ghanaians' love for uniforms. There can be no vol-
untary association or the members (especially women) try to put some money to-
gerher to have a special cloth prinred or sown into a dress of a specific design. I think
this has to do with the same importance of social relations mentioned earlier. Group
affiliation counts more than individuality. Emphasis is on mutual dependence,
establishing social bonds, a sense of belonging together and knowing that one can
count on each other in times of need. But the love for uniforms also has something
to do with the competition for prestige between different groups. From a 'fine cloth'
an association can gain recognition. Ït shows that the individual members are ready
to invest in the communal interest and this is still a highly valued good.
DEATH IN THE DIASPORA
In Chapter 2zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
I have already touched upon funerals at home and abroad in the con-
text of dispersed families. Here I wil! briefly address the relationship between death
and funerals and the creation of Ghanaian co mm uni ties in the diaspora, which have
become particularly significant since the second half of the eighries.
Community and Death: Attending Funerals IOI
Ina volume of collected essays on Africans in the Netherlands, Nimako (2000)
states about the rise of the Ghanaian community in the Netherlands that death was
the major impetus for Ghanaians to organise thernselves in (hometown) associa-
tions. Such associations were initially founded to help their members to organise
and finance funerals or a trip to Ghana to attend the funeral of a deceased rnother or
father there. Money is raised through contributions and when one of the members is
confronted with the death of a close family member, s/he can lay claim to financial
help. He says chat ic is not surprising chat in the beginning ic were particularly the
Asante who successfully organised themselves in chat way, because their funeral cel-
ebrations are more elaborate rhan chose of other ethnic groups.
Van Dijk in the same volume (2000) examines the relation berween money and
identiry in the Ghanaian community in The Hague. He argues rhat ic is in the circu-
lation of money that the own identity is most strongly expressed, especially at fu-
neral celebrations (ibid.: 206). In the Ghanaian communicies oucside Ghana, these
celebrations, which are independent of the place of sojourn of the deceased and of
the accual burial, have over the past years developed into true invescments aimed at
making profit for the organiser. This profit is then sent to Ghana to support family
there, Large numbers of Ghanaians from other Europeans cities may come and the
number of visitors may rise to 1500. A celebration usually starts around midnight
and continues til! daybreak wirh music, dancing, and drinks. As at funerals in
Ghana, here too, a crucial element is the donations of visitors, which are written
down and announced to the public. Gifts range from f 50,- to f 500,- per person and
the entire proceeds may amount to f 50,000, from which the expenses are still to be
deducted. Such financial gifts work, just as they do in Ghana, as social glue in the
community, bur in the European context, this has the additional significance of
emphasising the Ghanaian identity in a foreign society. 'The aim of the celebration,
the different parties concerned, and the fact that it is mainly about the money gifts
with which social ties are forged, make these celebrations hardly accessible for out-
siders. In short, the circulation of money and the concomitant crearion of social rela-
tions area frame for emphasising the Ghanaian identiry' (Van Dijk 2000: 207, origi-
nal in Dutch, translation MdW).
As I have tried to show in this chapter, community is a larger and more cornpli-
cated entity that it was before. Indeed, community can no longer be seen as a single
entity. There are many cornmunities, stretching across each other and flowing into
each other, of which people are part at the same time. New communities have arisen
with rnoderniry, characterised by increased mobiliry, migration, and cornrnunica-
tion. Traditional norms of solidarity, uniry, and mutual assistance apply to both the
town community and orher 'cornmunities' people may identify with. I have dis-
cussed how at funerals this solidarity norm is embodied by the members of the
group, in rheir movements, clorhing, and performances. Special significance is given
to the circulation of money for the creation of community, whether this concerns
the (home)town, professional or other associations, or new communities in the dias-
I02 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

pora. I have shown how, behind this image of solidarity and unity, funerals are also CHAPTER 4
the arena for conflicts and cornpetition and the public display of inequality.
Funerals are, above all, about the presentation of self and group, about making iden-
rity statements. And that is always a matter of both belonging and differentiation. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Business and Death:
The 'Funeral Industry'
L!JRiiî-A~::&:ä.:&A~§i..'®\Ç:-A§j;~:Jm zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

.
<>BITUAR~
Nana Anlwi Boaote~o Betonkod,kro Ekoona Abu$uapenin o ..,. Kwaku. Essumeja, Amos
Ntem (l(wadwo Manu, lormer Check W81gh,n9 Clerk. COCOBOD-Takorad1 Mr. Yaw
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFED
On a roadside somewhere in the centre of Kumasi there is a painted signboard,
c;JJ Sarlmd,e. Bu5tness E,ecuhve-Accra. Abo ky, Opanin Kofi Oonkor, EssumeJa. Peter Adu.
Te3Cller, Opan,n Bosompem Ch1ef Dnver-Betmxo Kwadv,:, Danso Behnko Akosua Addae. which reads:
Al<osua Al<yaa. Y841 Agyare. Amma Konadu announce w,th deep sorrow the death of their
beloved·
Party Service
for all your funerals, weddings,
outdoorings, etc.

~1 This signboard of a small catering business beautifully summarises a development

AND that has significantly altered the way funerals are celebrated in Ghana, the rise of a
i - - whole array of local entrepreneurs who have started small businesses providing all
~
kinds of goods and services for funeral and other celebrations. With a lot people will-
KWAKU OWUSU OSEIBOnsu ing to spend more and more money on grand funerals, the funeral business is boom-
AGED: 74 AGED: 60 ing. In this chapter I wil! try to understand these commercial developments in
Asante mortuary practice.
fUIIEJll AUAIIGEIIIEIITS m as FOLLOIUS:
WAKE·KEEPING: Fnday 6th November 1996 at Kyekyewere

BURIAL: Saturday, 7th November 1998 at Kyekyewere The growth of the funeral industry
KWAKU OWUSU'S CHILDREN: Mr 01e,-Owusu-Agric Extens,on-Bekwai. Osei Kwame
(Koo Osel). Driver-Bekwai Yaw Amoako fAgya Owusu), Driver Abo foo Station. Ernest COMMERCIALISATION OF DEATH
Amankwah, Qualrty 0Mst00-Cocobod Bekwa1, Diana Addo- Trader Bekwai. Hanna Owusu-
Trader Bekwa1, Tutuka- Obuas,. Afua Frema Kwad- Sarkodre Adwoa Nyantah. Abena
Aberaf, A~UA A~ëRN'I (AKIM Ar:.osCJ) In 'the olden days" everything about a funeral was dorre by the family itself or by
OSEI BONSU'S CHILOREN: Akua Konadu (Trader-Kumasil Abena Afriyie (Trader- other close relations. Nowadays more and more parts of the funeral are contracted
Obuas11 Kot, Amoako. Akwas1 Agyeman. Akwn, Ampong Kwaku Aluahene. Afua out. This is what I call the commercialisation or professionalisation of funerals.
Amankwah Kwacf\/\/0 Bonsu Akosua Achraa
Instead of members of the family and of the community performing certain sacred
NEPHEWS & NIECES: Mr Kwabena Alla (Farmer-faaase). Tawiah (Ptumber-Water &
Seweraqe Kumasr) SA Yeboah )Businessman-Sonyani) Kwarne Ns,ah Kwabena Afriy1e,
tasks like bathing and clothing the corpse, digging the grave, carrying the coffin,
Kwa" Addae which creates a sense of community (Vollbrecht 1978), such 'sacred tasks' are now
WIOOW M.,dam AfuJ Sarpong (Essumeja) dorre by 'strangers' who specialise in those tasks and make it their job. What is the
consequence of this development? Does this mean the experience of community, of
sharing, is undermined?
The growth of the funeral industty should be understood against the background
of the evolution of a money economy, which started with the introduction of cocoa
OBITUARY POSTER at the beginning of colonial rule, and the accompanying development of marketing,
I04 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
paid services, paid labour (with its emphasis on education, skills, and career), indi-
vidualism, and the press. Arhin sees the commercialisation of funerals as a result of
social changes like urbanisation, migration, expanded transport and communica-
tion systems, the public health sector and changes in religieus belief. 'The cumula-
tive effect of these changes is that 'the great transformation', the installation of
money at the centre of social relations, proceeds at an increasing pace, so chat funeral
rites have become opportunities for money-making' (1994: 313).
Alrhough ic cannot be denied chat socio-economie developments in the 20th cen-
tury have opened new ways to the acquisition of cash and enlarged people' s possibil-
iry to purchase, I think Arhin sees the commercialisation of funerals too simple: as
if the 'traditional' system of reciprociry is torally replaced by a Western system
of money-relations. His concept of transformation comprises a more or less statie
point of departure, the 'essentials of funeral rites', based on Rattray's descriptions
and presented in the past tense. The 'essence' is thus located in the past and is
changed only by 'modernity' coming from outside. A notion of modernisation (of
which commercialisation is part) as a development whereby 'the Western system'
introduced by colonialism destroys and replaces the local system is still too often
taken for granted. The idea of a 'great transformation' suggests a total break, a switch
from a non-monetary economie system to a monetary one. McCaskie (1995) has
shown in his historie study of pre-colonial Asante chat also in pre-colonial times,
money played an important role in the social-cultural system. Moreover, nowadays
the exchange mechanism of reciprocity is still very important, especially in organis-
ing funerals. Many tasks are clone, without any payment, on basis of social relation-
ships and the hope of future reciprocity, like preparing food, making announce-
ments, transport etc. The transformation may not be so great as supposed. The pro-
cess is much more complex.
The essays collected by Parry and Bloch (1989) cast a doubt on the assumption
that money has a revolutionary and determinate impact on society and culture.
They focus on the ways in which money is given a place and is symbolically repre-
sented within existing world-views and economie patterns. Parry and Bloch, then,
argue in their introduction that what explains people's cultural ways with money is
nota difference berween (Western and non-Western) cultures, nor between 'tradi-
tion' and 'rnoderniry', but the coexistence of rwo separate, but related transactional
orders within a society. They distinguish berween a cycle of short-term exchange,
the do main of individual - often acquisitive - activity and competition, and a cycle
of long-term exchanges concerned with reproduction of the social and cosmic
order. What makes the rwo organically essential to each other is the relation
berween the individual human life and a symbolically constructed image of the
social and cosmic order. This relation (see also Bloch & Parry 1982) inspired my
approach of an individual's death as the occasion for the re-negotiarion of society
and culture. In our case of Asante funerals, the reconstruction of a person's life at
the moment of his/her death (see Chapter 1) involves money, cornrnodities and
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' IOS
paid services. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ït is with these that people at the same time recreate social relations
and cultural values.
When services or products for a funeral are bought, this happens within social
patterns of responsibilities, of who should contribute what or take care of which part
of the funeral. Contracting out a funeral is not centralised as it is in the West,
whereby the whole thing is organised by the undertaker and one single bil! (includ-
ing the coffin, the cake and the cemetery fees) is presented to the family representa-
tive. In Ghana parts of the funeral are contracted out separately, wirh different peo-
ple responsible for different tasks and payments. Commercialisation of funerals
(consumption of funeral products and services) does not mean that the local system
of organisation is destroyed and replaced by a Western, commercial system. Com-
mercial practices are rather incorporated in the local habitus.
This is not to argue that essentially nothing changes. I only want to stress chat the
assumption of a 'great transformation' would blind us for the culturally specific ways
in which people make creative use of money exchanges, commodities and paid ser-
vices in the context of death. The professionalisation and commercialisation of death
certainly mean a significant change in the way of celebrating funerals, a change chat
is also experienced as such by local people and evokes strong criticism.
fUNERAL ECONOMICS DEBATED
Not surprisingly, 'making money out of death' is an issue chat evokes negative senti-
ments. 'Much of contemporary Akan popular culture that has crept into funeral cer-
emonies can be viewed as commercial exploitarion. [ ... ]The creeping commercial-
ization is transforming bereavement into a largely monetized venture' (Aborampah
1999: 268). Money and death seem to be at odds with each other. Already since the
1940s there have been protests at the commercialisation and the increasing expendi-
ture of funerals.' This has taken the form of detailed funeral regulations by chiefs,
which I shall discuss at length in Chapter 6. The commercialisation of death has also
evoked a fierce discussion in the media. It seems to be a tug-of-war berween chose
who argue chat funerals are contributing to the economy and these who say that
funerals are only swallowing money bad.ly needed for other purposes, like the
improvement ofliving conditions and socio-economie development. NanaAnnoh-
Oprensem stresses the economie advantages of funerals in an article in The Mirror
(1995): 'Funerals make the economie wheel revolve- the breweries, the butchers, the
foodstuff sellers, the transporters and others all benefit.' The following reaction was
published:
'Ido not in any way believe in Nana's proposed funeral economy and would like
to ask him if he has thought about the following: the economie effects of people
(skilled and unskilled labour) getting drunk at funerals and getting involved
in motor accidents; the economie effect of hang-overs; the economie effect of
I06 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
spending roo much on funerals when a lot of enterprising young people could be
helped out of their misery with these funds; the economie effect of certain vices
such as wife snatching, teenage pregnancy ~te. [ ... ] I have heard weird things in my
time, but not economics that thrives on funerals' (Michael Dedey, The Mirror
December 2, 1995).
Arhin argues chat funerals contribute to the economy. 'Contrary to popular impres-
sions and to the views of the chiefs of Ashanti, the transformations in the rites sup-
port certain industries and stirnulate new services' (1994: 307). He explains chat 'the
increase in the quality and scale of funeral rites has stimulated the carpentry, brew-
ing, distilling and paint trades, and has promoted such service industries as chose of
the mortician (a Ghanaian version of the undertaker), the suppliers of canopies and
seats, and music and dance or cultural groups' (ibid.: 318) and concludes chat 'on
balance, they are economically useful' (ibid.).
The discussion in the media mainly seems to revolve around the question of
whether funerals are (economically) wasteful or useful. This also implies a mora! cri-
tique. Many people morally reject wasting money on grand funerals while this
money could also have been used to ease a person's living before death.' Here, in-
stead of judging whether the way funerals are celebrated nowadays is good or bad, 4 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
I there wasn't much left from what I earned. Little by licde I bought my own things
rather want to concentrate on how people make use of services and commodities to
shape their funerals and in so doing, to stage an image oflife. First I shall describe the
work of the entrepreneurs in the 'funeral industry' and then relate this to the perfor-
mance of lifestyle and identity at present-day funerals.
COFFINS POR SALE
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' IO? zyxwvutsrq
Services in the funeral industry
THE BODY DECORATOR
In Chapter 1 I have paid considerable attention to the decoration of the body for the
laying-in-state ceremony. In the olden days the preparation and the decoration were
done by elderly women in the family. Nowadays, especially in towns and cities, it is
very common to have this job done by professional, specialised people who call thern-
selves funeral undertakers, morticians, or body decorators. They do not organise and
direct the whole funeral as do their European colleagues, but first of all take care of
the presentation of the body. Sometimes they engage in additional services such as
the sale of coffins, wreaths, gowns or suits. Usually they bring all the materials needed
and the family can leave ic all to them. In Bekwai, for instance, you can hire 'perpet-
ual funeral services' to come and 'decorare' your dead relative. In Kumasi, Auntie
Amoanimae, an experienced body decorator, cold me about her work.
'I started my work as a funeral undertaker fifteen years ago. By then I didn't have
so many things, so I had to rent all the chings I used in decoracing a body, so that
and now I have everything I need. Whenever I lay a body in state, I use only my
own things, not the things the family may have. Also the jewellery I use is my own.
Ic may be chat the family has not shined theirs, so I can't use ic. I often do chiefs
and queen-rnothers. I did the Bekwaihemaa five years ago. For a chief I usually
make three rooms: one where the body is lying in state, one where the coffin is
standing and one where all kinds of things and properties are shown. In the olden
days the coffin of a chief was never shown, we say "obene adaka yenkyert" [a chiefs
coffin is not to be shown], but these days people bring beautiful coffins from
Europe and they want to exhibit thern, to show off. Usually I ask the family to gec
the body from the fridge three days in advance, so that the block can defrost. The
body has been embalmed before ic went into the fridge. Then with a bit of exercise
I can move the limbs so chat I can cloche the body. In case of a chief, I have to
change the clothing a few times during the funeral. The removed cloths are then
shown in the ether room.' She shows all kinds of things she uses for 'royal' body
decoration: swords, knives, fly whisks, an ouiare game, a warrior's costume, san-
dals, and a crown. Most of the things are bad quality fake, much like old theatre
stage properties. 'Normal people I usually lay in state like a bride or a bridegroom,
in a big white wedding dress or a suit. I also have to provide someching to drive
away the scene. And I have to deco race the room with kente and lace, and flowers in
every corner. The only thing I don't have is a bed. There are so many types ofbeds
and every time people want a new type. It's fashion. In the third room, in case of a
chief or a queen-rnother, I put the things chat symbolise his or her life. Like the
regalia, a warrior costume, wooden guns, and a small dining table. For a woman I
I08 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
use cooking utensils and ingredients, toiletries like powders, lavender, shea butter,
all nicely packed in a jawa pot ("golden" pot), strings ofbeads bound together with
a piece of shiny material and laid out, so that rhey know how many she had. And
then pieces of cloth, nicely folded and arranged on jawa plates. When the body has
been buried we leave the decorations and the things for another day, for people to
come and look at it. On Monday I come to get my things. For the decoration of a
paramount chief I ask </;1,000,000, for a normal person <t:250,000 to <t:300,000.
The price is always discussed with the family and depends on how they want it. If
it's family of a friend, then I ask only small small money. Usually the family mem-
bers don't participate in laying the body in state and decorating 'ic. They leave
everything to me. Often I do ic rogether with my son. The family co mes to look at
it to see if they are satisfied before the people come. The body should be present-
able. That' s it. Chiefs or queen-mothers or normal people, anything they ask me, I
will like ic, because ic brings me money.'
Some funeral undertakers also engage in the sale of wreaths and sornetimes coffins.
The presentation of wreaths, which used to be the preserve of the urban elite, has
now become a genera! custom. There are small workshops specialised in making
wreaths. They are made of coloured and white ribbon wrapped around circular,
square or heart-shaped frames and sometimes decorated with artificial flowers. Most
important!y, a white rib bon or paper mentioning the name or relation of the giver is
attached to it. The wreaths are put in front of or on the bed during the Iaying-in-
state ceremony and their presentation to the public by the priest or the family head is
one of the highlights of the rites at the graveside. Not infrequent!y the wreaths are
left in plastic foil even after they have been left on the grave. Only on very classy fu-
nerals one wil! see wreaths made of real flowers. I saw them once, at the funeral of
Mr. Owusu Agyeman.
Hiring a body decorator is often considered a task of the children of the deceased.
Patience stated in her account ofKofi Afari' s funeral: 'the children brought someone
to dress a bed and decorate him. It cost them </;120,000 including drinks.' In accord-
ance with Akan custom, the people doing the 'body decoration' should be paid in
nsa, drink. This is related to the ritual potency of alcohol in transforming the
deceased into a spirit, making it the most potent symbol and medium of cornrnuni-
cation with the spirit world (Akyeampong 1996: 39; see also Chapter 5). Now that
this task is commercialised, payment in money is the rule, but this is often supple-
mented with the customary drinks.
The latest development in funeral undertaking I heard of is a new funeral parlour
in Accra, intended to provide a place where people can lay their <lead in state and
have a ceremony. I wondered whether this would be a success, given the great
importance of the family house in funerals. This facility rhen seemed to be primarily
meant for migrants who rent rooms as tenants and would not be allowed by their
landlords to bring their dead to the house.'
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' 109
THE VIDEO zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQ
MAN
I have described in the first chapter how the originally colonial studio photography
was locally appropriated to shape a 'culture of remembrance' and developed from an
exclusivity of the urban elite toa widespread popular practice. Many Ghanaian pho-
tographers rook the opportunity to take snapshots at funerals and other celebrations
to earn a living. Since the early nineties it seems chat video is catching up with pho-
tography in popularity and many of thern are now combing photography with video
making.
There area few video makers in Bekwai who do funeral coverage. Kwaku Gyebi,
of Hope Video Production, is the best known. He <lid the video of the funeral of the
Bekwaihene in June 1998 and took this opportuniry to advertise his own business.
During the last half-hour of the video he made his name, address and phone number
appear on the screen several times. Kyers Me [show me] Photo Studio also does
video coverage. I spoke with Kwaku, a young video maker who runs his own video
production business.
'When a family asks me to cover their funeral, I discuss wirh them which particular
events I must shoot. Most!y I have to do the whole ching, first the week celebration,
then the funeral day itself, and sometimes also the forry days. Usually I go with one
or two assistants for the light, in case the body is inside, and maybe a second camera.
Ic is a thing you have to learn. You should know what is important. You must know
all the time what is going on and what is going to happen. Sometimes too, rwo
things are happening the same time. Like for instance, they are praying at the bed-
side and at the same time some important guests are coming and shaking hands.
You have to shoot both. That is why I may choose to bring a second camera, but
only if they pay more. As for the guests, you have to make sure chat everybody
appears, especially the important ones. You also have to have an eye for details, for
decorations. Like how they have done the room, the kente, the flowers, and the jew-
els they have used for the body. You have to shoor all. After the whole thing we have
a lot of rnaterial, so many hours. So then I start editing with the decks [i.e. copying
shots from the original tape to another). Somerirnes I use special effects, like mixing
shots, to make the thing more dramatic. With this one, for instance, I took the shot
of the picture of her as a young lady and I mixed ic with the shot of the mother,
because it was so sorrowful. The point is chat I have to make a very fine video out of
it. Then I make as many copies as they have asked for, for thern to distribute among
themselves and to send it abroad. I keep the original here, so chat they can come and
order more copies if necessary. Ifit is a very nice video, more people maywant it.'
 II O Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
THE MUSIC BAND
A funeral without any type of live music is· not considered a good funeral. There
should always be at least one drumming group (keteor adowa), a nnwomkorJSinging
group, or a popular highlife, gospel, or brass band, but preferably rwo or even three,
to provide the best entertainment possible. For many musical groups, then, funerals
are major performance occasions and a source of revenue. Same groups perform
mainly at funerals, like those making traditional nnu/omkoro music, whereby a group
of wamen sing praises to the deceased, lamentations, and religious songs, while one
of them dances. In the past the members of a (traditional) music band were, like
body decorators, rarely paid for their performance at funerals (Aborampah 1999:
267). Now they are hired fora fee agreed on in advance, but usually they are also
given (and requesting) plenty of drinks. This does sometimes result in drunkenness,
which worries chiefs and church leaders (see Chapters 5 and 6). Drumming groups
and popular bands may perform at other occasions too, but funerals are more fre-
quent than any other celebration.
In Accra I joined the 'Peace & Love Cultural Group' when they went to perforrn
at the wake-keeping and funeral of a relative of one of the members of the group, a
79-year old police offreer. 'Peace & Love' is a Legon based group of about thirty boys
and gids who come together a few times a week to rehearse their repertoire of tradi-
tional drum rhythms and dances. They also train some talented children in the area.
They are amateurs and perform mainly for the fun of it. With thirty people in a
minibus and the drums on top of the roof, we get to the funeral house around nine
p.m. First we greet the family at the courtyard and take a look at the body lying in
state. Outside on the street, a police band is playing popular highlife and gospel
songs and people are dancing. We are given aroom to dress and rest and are served a
meal. Around midnight we start drumming, right next to the police band. The more
noise the better fora wake-keeping. After half an hour we quit, however, 'because we
draw away all the attention from the other band and they don't like it.' The police
band plays until 2zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
a.m., after which cassettes are played, and there is a lot of dancing.
We dance with the mourners, walk up and down the srreet, and hang around in a
nearby bar. Around three in the morning we go and sleep, i.e. we lie down on a piece
of cloth on the floor of a courtyard a few meters away, while the loud music goes on.
After a bucket shower and a heavy breakfast of kenkey and stew, provided by the
family around six a.m., the members of the group start practising. They keep away
from what is going on at the courtyard. When the family and guests leave for the
cernetery for burial, the group members try to sleep some more. In the afternoon,
when all the guests have come, they give a performance of an hour and a half at the
courtyard of the house. The performance is mainly meant as a 'piece of culture' to
entertain the guests. They play traditional rhythms and dances from different
regions of Ghana, no special funeral music or dances. After that the party goes on
with popular music and lots of food and drink. Around five o' doek we return to
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' III
Legon. In the bus the drumming continues. The group was paid <1:70,000 for their
performance, plus food and drinks (plenty of both). They have used the advance
of <t:40,000 to buy some new instruments. The rest, <1:30,000, is just enough to rent
the bus.
While the 'cultural performance' of this group in Accra was first of all entertain-
ment, the presence of musical groups at Asante funerals is usually more than that.
Music is essential to create a mournful atmosphere. It has the ability to evoke tears.
Mourners do not just sit down and watch the performance, but get up and, either
alone or in a small group, dance and wail to the music. Dance is a way of expressing
emotions, and a source of consolation. Moreover, music and dance area way of pay-
ing respect to the deceased, of seeing the dead off
The choice fora particular kind of music is often determined by the connections
a family has with one or the other music group. For the funeral of Kofi Afari, the
family hired the brass band in which a 'nephew' plays the trumpet. They paid the
band, consisting of five members, <1:80,000 for the day. The brother of Agnes
Ankobiah, who is an army captain, organised a military band for the funeral of his
sister. However, a family may also choose to hire a particular type of music band for
a funeral that they consider fitting for the deceased. For active Christians, a band or
choir is often organised through the church. At funerals of very old people, tradi-
tional drumming and singing groups are more frequent than popular bands. In
Bekwai I attended the funeral of a roé-year-old woman. There were both a drum-
ming group and a nnu/omkoro group, but no cassettes were played. When I expressed
my surprise at the absence of a DJ, my grandmother Yaa Mansah commented that
'because this woman was so old, they want to make her funeral traditional', obaa wei
no wanyin paa nti na ysps se yeys n 'ayie te se atetesemdee. Interestingly, 'tradirion'
(atetessm, 'matters of the olden days') then becomes like a thing people may deern
appropriate for a certain occasion, whether to pay respect to the deceased or to pro-
vide entertainment, and choose to hire. One ofMiescher's inforrnanrs comments on
the recent innovation of hiring 'cultural dance companies' to make a funeral look
more 'traditional'.
'When last year somebody died, the celebration included the people from the
Kumasi Cultural Centre, this is something quite strange to everybody. Because we
had never, never this ... That was the first time in my life I have seen these people at
a funeral, which is a new thing .. .' (Miescher I99T 539-540).
This entails a 'reinventiori' of traditional culture as a fixed body of, among other
things, music and dance. But also what people perceive as 'traditiori' is subject to
change. Ina Twi publication on nmoomkoro, itself part of the process of restating
culture, Aning writes about the transformation of 'traditional' nmoomkors groups,
in the past made up exclusively of women:
II2 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' II3

'Nowadays in some big Asante towns like Kumasi or Mampong, people have Jbaatan wuo ye ya The death of a mother is painful
founded nnioomkors groups into which th:y have even accepted men. [Previously) nanso awisia, uiobeye no den? but orphan, what can you do about it?
if somebody among the people who frequent!y met to make music died, they Enti fa
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
m 'auierekyekyere So take my consolation
could go and play at his/her funeral. As for today, the groups they have founded na gyae su oo awisia and stop crying orphan
can use nmoomkoro to tour different people's funerals in town and they can play at
Christmas or at the various festivals in the country' (Aning 1975: 9, original in Twi, Obi awisia due oo, due na bye den oo Sornebody's orphan, condolences and keep
translation MdW). Adee akye abia ao, nipa ne awu yi strong
Wo ni, w 'aabaatan The morning has come again and a person
Traditional music and dance, embodied by people who specialise in 'culture', Odomankoma wuo se obioeinos no has died
so-called 'cultural groups', have thus become an integral part of the funeral business. Your rnother, your mom
the Creator's death wanted her
THE DJ AND THE HIGHLIFE SINGER Ampa a monso mu o monsi mu oo Ic is crue, so all of you come together
Eno ako ats A rnother has fought and fallen
Although popular highlife singers most!y do not perform physically at funerals, they Enne dee dee osuo tJ a eh» fa no a From today on, the place chat was moistened
do play a big part in the funeral business. As mentioned in Chapter 1, highlife music ëhJ ntumi mfi biom oo by rainfall cannot get moist anymore
is a very popular and widespread musical sryle. It is mainly through the numerous
cassettes that highlife singers cater for the music marker. Funerals form an impor- Dee JkJm de wo a ioobeko ne hJ no nso a The way to the place you went to whenever
tant marker for highlife music. The whole day highlife songs blast from huge loud- ëhJ kwan na asie yi you were hungry has been blocked
speakers. The DJ, a young man between twenty and thirry years old with a suitcase Dee wofiri sukuu ba no nso The one you threw your clothes at when you
full of music tapes, is present at almost any funeral. Sitting behind his sound system, eye a tuouiori to'atadee to gu ne so no a carne from school
he almost incessantly plays songs, sometimes shouting something into the micro- on: na wagya wo ho ko asamando yi she has left you there to go to asamando
phone or responding toa remark or request of the public. Also in the bars where the Na awisia uiobeye no den? But orphan, what can you do about it?
funeral goers gather to drink and in the clubs where they go to dance after the Woka se ioorebioe dee owuo ayë wo yi a If you say that you are looking at what death
funeral, highlife is played and people sing along loudly. Many highlife songs, then, wobedi atoereboo asu saa has done to you, you wil! be so sad and cry
are about death and the pain and misery a death causes (see Van der Geest 1980, Ebet: da na wo nisuo asa A day wil! come that your tears get finished
1984, 1985). Some are composed fora specific case and have gained wide popularity énti gyae su na bye den oo so stop crying and keep strong
later. Others are about the genera! pain and misery of death. Highlife songs on death Fa au/erekyekyere firi me nkyen Take consolation from me
provide the context for mourners to express their sorrow and help deal with the loss awisia, hye den na gyae su oo orphan, keep strong and stop crying
of a relative or friend. I have already given some song texts in previous chapters.
Here is one more well-known song. 'Gyae su' (stop crying) by NanaAmpadu, one of Obi awisia due oo, due na hye den oo Somebody's orphan, condolences and keep
the most fameus highlife singers ever, was composed in the seventies, hut it is still Nbuie dee owuo ayë wo yi strong
played at funerals today. As most highlife songs on death, it addresses the suffering Mfa aketekyiwa nkata wo ti Don't look at what death has clone to you
of the children of a deceased and offers a way of expressing grief. The agony oflosing Don't cover your head with a palm wine pot
one' s mother is stressed, hut the orphan is also encouraged to accept the painful real- [i.e. don't get drunk)
ity of death and keep streng. Na ma w 'ani nna Jam oo And be sober
Na ayie aba yi a At a funeral like rhis
Gyae su - N ana Ampadu Stop crying nknfoJ nom nsa bo yi people drink and get drunk
Obiara nim dee esi ne bukyia akyi They all know what is ready for thern at
Gyae su, obi ba, gyae su Stop crying, sornebody's child, stop crying Okusie se obetena JkwantenpJn mu a home [food]
mmensu awisia don't cry, orphan ee onni ammirika a A rat sitting in the middle of a road
Owuo ye afetewakye Death is like the 'hat' of the afetewa-frui na JWJ akokoduru Either he can run
éso ipanin na eso abJjra It is on adults and children alike Or he is brave
II4 Long live the dead!
Na wo nso dee But as for you
dee anka Jbefre wo adidie yi the ~ne who would have called you to supper
mo nti na amanfoo nyinaa gyam wo yi it is because of her chat everybody condoles you
Enti gyae su na bye den So stop crying and keep strong
na JazyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
wo mem nyinaa ma Onyame and leave all your problems to God.
Tuiiediampon na waye se asoroboa no who is like a monkey in the trees
Wok:J b:J ne yonk» a wo k:Jt:JkJJ nka soro If you befriend hirn, your hook will not get
Awisia hye den oo zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
stuck up there [i.e. you will always get fruits
from above]
Me JJnkJ awisia gyae su wae Orphan keep strong
Na saa na owuo beys onipa biara My friend, orphan, stop crying
Because chat is how death treats every person
(Transcripcion Nana Ampadu) (Translacion MdW)
But it is not only songs about death chat are played at funerals. Any song that is
popular at the moment can be heard. Two top hits at the time of my stay in Bekwai
were 'yeekodi buronya' (we are going to celebrate Christmas) by Kaakyire Kwame
Appiah, about how at the end of the year everybody dresses up and goes to town to
party, and 'Aben WJ ha' (something hot, i.e. ready to be eaten, is here) by Oaddy
Lumba. 'Aben WJ ha' was a controversial song because of the sexual connotation it
carried (sex is commonly spoken of in terms of eating), but it was immensely popu-
lar. Whenever it was played at funerals, everybody got up to dance.
There area few DJ's and sound system providers in Bekwai. 'Yesu Mo Sounds [well
clone Jesus] is a shop selling all kinds of electrical parts, music cassettes and co's.
They do electrical repairs, but you can also book thern for music at funerals and other
parties, At Kofi Afari's funeral, the hire of a DJ and sound system had cost the family
<t8o,ooo for rwo days. With the establishment of this kind of music provision, the
youth has acquired an active part to play in funerals, whereas twenty years ago the
youth was delegated to the bars. Van der Geest observed at funerals in Kwahu chat
'Funerals, which always have been the preeminent occasion for the elders to
"shine", are being taken over by the younger generation. At present, enormous
amplifiers spew out the sounds ofhighlife music, which have drowned the drums
and dances of elders at the funeral ground. The traditional tasks of addressing the
mourners and announcing their gifts are now carried out by a "jamboree", a kind
of disc jockey or entertainer, who mourns at funerals and makes jokes at wedding
parties if you pay him. During funerals, the elders and their culture are literally
blasted away by the technological and commercial advances of the new age. One
may find them sitting quietly, watching the eclipse of rheir world' (1999: 488).
I think Van der Geest views it too pessimistically. Elders, in Bekwai at least, do still
play the leading part in funerals, not only in the organisation, but also during the
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' IIS
performance. It was usually elderly women who did the presentation of gifts. Elderly
men were sitting behind the table to receive the donations. At most funerals I
attended traditional music provided the atmosphere for elderly wornen, but also
men, to present their dancing skills. My grandmother Yaa Mansah was very fond of
this. At numerous funerals I danced adowawith her and other elderly women to the
rhythm of the drums. But we also danced to the highlife songs, which she loudly
sang along with. Instead of' quiet!y watching the eclipse of their world', many elders
took an active and creative pare in funerals. However, Van der Geest, right!y points
to the difference between the generations that is worked out at funerals. The young-
er, professional generation has indeed acquired apart to play that it did not have in
the past. Music in particular is an area of the funeral where relations between the
elderly and the young are re-negotiated.
THE 'GIFT SHOP'
In the second chapter I mentioned the practice of certain groups of people, espe-
cially in-laws, to make presentations of gifts to the bereaved family, the so-called
adosoa or adekyeredee. This traditional custorn has developed into a surprising busi-
ness, namely the rental of such 'gifrs' to the givers at considerable fees. At 'King' s and
Queen's, NanaAbrafi Mensah Enterprise', a shop near the king's palace in Kumasi
selling all kinds of chiefly regalia, one can hire a complete adosoa set, including a
dancer, at the cost of ct150,ooo. The items are on display in the shop, all packed in
golden pots. They include expensive cloths, nicely folded and decorated with rib-
bons, bottles wrapped in shiny coloured foil, and empty bottles of luxury import
spirirs like J ohnny Walker and Remy Martin to be filled with a mixture of water and
coffee to imitate the colour of whisky and cognac. They also have some awisiado
necklaces to be presented to the children, but these will add to the costs. The in-laws
of a deceased person can hire the 'gifts' fora day, afterwhich they should be returned
immediately. Together with the items Nana Abrafi Mansah provides a dancer ro
liven up the show. She has her picture in the shop: a young girl in a colourful piece of
kente and adorned with necklaces, bracelets and anklets of gold and beads. She will
dance to the rhythm of the drums that accompany the presentation of the gifts. All is
intended to 'make a fine show'.
Like the cultural groups one can hire to make a funeral traditional, adosoa is a simi-
lar 'piece of culture' available for funerals. But ir is more than chat. Since the show is
bought by a particular group of people (the in-laws) and ceremonially presented to
another particular group (the bereaved family), it reveals the interdependence ofboth
groups and shows how this relation is valued. The amount and the quality of the
items, the beauty and skills of the dancer and the vigour of the drummers, attest to
the esteem of the deceased, the family, and the in-laws. The fact chat these things are
just hired for the occasion does not at all devaluate the presentation. In the arena
where families compete for prestige the more beautiful the show, the better.
II6 Long live the dead] zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
A similar thing seems to happen to the culturally required tears at funerals I
described in the first chapter. Although I have, as far as I am aware, not seen this in
Bekwai, I have heard that in Kumasi it i; becoming fashion to hire mourners to
come and cry at your funeral to set the mournful atmosphere required for a good
funeral. Certain funeral undertakers mediate berween bereaved families and groups
of women who 'know how to cry', using the appropriate words, laments, gestures
and body language to express the grief of orhers.
THE CARPENTER
In the past the dead were generally wrapped in a mat to be buried. For a king a kind
of coffin made out of the great flat buttress roots of the silk-cotton tree could be used
(Rattray 1927: 159). European traders on the coast introduced the European type of
coffins, but these still remained reserved for chiefs and elite. Since the beginning of
the 20th century the coffin has become common. This has given rise to numerous
carpenters specialising in coffin making. Very often one can see a row of coffins on
display along the roadside, the workshop locared just behind.
Kumasi is known as the centre of the coffin business. A lot of carpenters specialis-
ing in coffins are concentrated in one 'coffin street' (An toa road). Most of the coffins
on sale there cost berween ct:250,000 and ct:400,000. A classy coffin averages berween
ct:600,000 and ct:1,000,000, a year's salary for some people. In Bekwai there are two
coffin makers. The stall of the carpenters in the main street bears the slogan 'au/ieee
ne asem', the end is the problem. Most of the people in Bekwai buy their coffins from
them. But there is also a big coffin workshop at Anwiankwanta junction, four kilo-
metres from Bekwai. Different types of coffins are put on display at all sides of the
junction. Some are qui te simple, made of naturally varnished wood with a few small
ornaments at the corners. Others are painted and plastic white or light blue and
elaborately decorated with 'golden' hand.les and ornaments flowers, glass windows
in the sides or in the lid. The inside is lined with white sarin and lace. There are also
folding coffins that convert into a bier, the latest innovation in coffin making,
becorning, as I was told, quite fashionable.
Another trend in coffins are the so-called fantasy coffins, which have nowadays
acquired international fame (see Secretan 1995; Beckwith 1994). These are expensive
design coffins in the shape of an aspect of the deceased's life. A cocoa farmer may be
buried in a cocoa pod coffin, a successful fisherman in a fish, an international busi-
nessman in an aeroplane, and a mason in a trowel. They are almost exclusively made
in Paa Joe' s workshop in Teshi, a fishing village near Accra. Paa Joe has already made
his own coffin: a carpenter's plane. Ir was the carpenter Kane Kwei who in the sixties
developed this coffin art, when it became fashionable for rich people in the area to
show how they had become rich with coffins that were symbolic of worldly success
and elevated social status. At their funeral everybody could see how successful the
persen had been in his/her trade, job or position. Moreover a fantasy coffin adds to
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' II7
the exclusivity of the funeral and the status of the deceased. Although the trend is
still alive in the Ga area, Paa Joe, Kane Kwei's most distinguished successor, now
produces more coffins for Western art galleries and collectors than for Ghanaian
funerals. In Asante such coffins are very rare. I have never seen one at a funeral
myself, but I was told that Asante people sometimes order rhem.
With the production ofbeautiful fancy coffins in Ghana, but even more so with
the import ofluxury coffins from Europe or America, the practice of putting coffins
on display at the courryard of the family house has taken root. The coffin is pre-
erninently what the children can gain prestige from, because whereas the funeral as a
whole is the abusua's business and prestige, it is (in case of a man) the children's re-
sponsibility to provide the coffin. As Arhin states, 'the coffin and ether burial objects
from the bereaved children are evidence of the fulfillment by a man of the obliga-
tions [to provide educarion for his children] and a testimony to his standing as a
man, or of his "status'" (1981: 179). So since 'the coffin is a special symbol of the
farher-child bond, it is the status of the children, more rhan rhat of anyone else
involved, which is, as it where, on trial; and the children will make every effort to
furnish their dead father's abusuawith a coffin that everyone will consider appropri-
ate for his dignity' (Chukwukere 1981: 65). The coffin thus has become an essential
showpiece in the game of status and esteem. That is why I doubt whether the new
folding coffins will be a success. They are convenient, people told me, as there is no
need for roeving the body from the bed into the coffin. But it is not quite conve-
nience that Asante funerals are about. With such coffins, rhere is no coffin to be
shown, since the body is laid in state on it. Moreover, they make the ceremonial bed,
another status symbol, superfluous.
THE PAINTER
The practice of putting painted portraits on graves, which I have described in the first
chapter, is a source of work, be it a small one, for many painters. Kwame Akoro, alias
'Almighty God', for example, has his workshop in Kumasi. He specialises in what he
calls 'creativiry art' (see also Chaprer 1), but to make a living, he also takes customers'
orders, like signboards for small businesses in the area, slogans on cars, banners for
church activiries, and tomb plates for bereaved families. When a family asks him to
paint a portrait fora grave, they bring a picture of the deceased, 'so that it will resem-
ble well.' He rhen draws a screen over the picture and carefully enlarges it on a sheet
of metal. If necessary, he may change the colour of the dress to make it better, but the
face should always resemble the picture as much as possible, alrhough a little beauty
may be added. Mr. Ankrah, a grave painter in the film 'Future Remembrance', says
'you have to beaurify it very well, together with resemblance. You have to srudy the
face to resemble the real person. After that you apply the colour to match it beauti-
fully.' The name of the person, the day or year ofbirth and of death, and a saying like
'rest in peace' or' da yie' (rest well) are added, all in consultation with the family. The
place will either be nailed on a woeden stick and put on the grave like chat or be fixed
onto a larger tombsrone, which is the way ir is usually clone in Bekwai.
Work for another kind of painter is painting the house. As zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
I said earlier, the house
not only provides the setting for laying the dead body in state and receiving visitors,
it is the utmost symbol of success, both of the deceased and of the abusua. A beauti-
ful, well-rnaintained and decorated house confers prestige upon the dead ~d his/
her relarives. The house is part and parcel of the presenration of good life that a fu-
neral is. Much attention and money is therefore devoted to painting (and sometimes
repairing) the house both inside and outside to make it 'presenrable', Bright colours
like pink, blue or sea green are preferred.
THE SCULPTOR
Until recencly most graves were indicated by just a small sign mentioning the name
of the persen buried there, hut nowadays many people who can afford it choose to
have a tomb(stone) erected on the grave of their deceased relative. This is work for
another type of artists, the (cement) sculptors. 1 visited one sculptor in Kumasi. His
workshop was full of pictures of his work: portraits in relief of plaster or cement,
busts or full statues, some bronze or gold painted, some narural. He also makes use
of photographs and aims at high resemblance. Another major concern is durability.
Unlike coffins, which should be beautiful only on the day of the funeral, grave sculp-
tures or tombs should last very long. The grave tomb is the most lasting, tangible
proof of the deceased's status and it is visible anytime people visit the cemetery for
burial of another dead.
Usually the tomb is made one year after the death, when the official mourning
period has carne to an end. This also allows for the raising of additional funds to
finance an elaborate tomb. The pracrice of making large tombs on a grave has given
rise to a new ceremony, the unveiling of the tomb on the one-year celebration. This
may be done in the presence of a large number of people on the day of the celebra-
tien itself or a bit earlier. On the one-year celebration of the death of woman in
Bekwai, rwo framed pictures of her tornb, which had been unveiled the day before,
where put on display and passed around later. It was a cement tomb with a portrait
of the deceased and a cross in bronze relief. The text read: 'In laving memory of
Akosua Nsiah (Akosua Kayeya), bom 1928, died 14-5-97, R.I.P., God takes away our
loved ones from our homes, but not from our hearts.'
THE CHAIR SUPPLIER
In the last chapter we have seen the importance of sitting down at funerals. In any
context, being accorded a seat is an essential sign of welcome. 'Akonnua un h,,' there
is a seat, is the first thing said when one receives guests, whether announced or not.
Asante are noted for their hospitality and they are proud of chat. A stand-up recep-
tion would be unthinkable. To provide shady seating for the numerous funeral
guests, people hire chairs and canopies from local entrepreneurs, aften bars, or from
Kumasi, where the chairs are nicer. During the funeral they carefully watch whether
there are enough seats for everybody and if not, get somebody to bring more. Being
short of seats would be a disgrace.
The type of chairs and canopies hired is, not surprisingly, an indication of the
status of the deceased. There is a big difference in social esteern berween the com-
mon woeden folding chairs, made by local carpenters and aften quite uncomforr-
able, and plastic import chairs, usually hired from Kumasi. In small villages canopies
are aften made of bamboe and palm leaves. In Bekwai this is considered bush-like
and not clone. The canopies in Bekwai consist of metal frames and dark blue cotton
cloth. From Kumasi, however, one can get really nice canopies with 'roofs' of a taur
silvery material, heat-resistant and never leaking. Of course, prices also vary consid-
erably berween the various types of furniture.
THE 'PARTY SERVICE'
Just as guests are accorded a seat, they are also being served at funerals. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWV
'If you are
going to funeral like chat, they serve you', it was explained to me when I once reacted
somehow surprised to the question whether I had been served already. The expecta-
tion of service on the part of the guescs is streng. YaaMansah's frequent demands for
quicker service co people who had just lost a relacive and were running up and down
co serve everybody were always embarrassing co me, buc co the bereaved family chey
seemed perfect!y legitimate.
In the first instance rhis service entails drinks, buc despite the Asante cradition of
fascing in times of bereavernenr, ic has become more and more common, mainly in
the cities, to provide funeral visicors not only wich drinks, buc also wich snacks or
meals. Arhin attributes chis trend to other ethnic groups when he states chat 'under
the influence of the Ga and Fante citizens of Accra, Cape Coast and Kumasi, rneals,
as rich as possible, have replaced the erscwhile Asante fase' (1994: 316). The food to
be distributed among the guests may be cooked by wamen in the family or friends,
buc since recently this job can be conrracted out to specialised catering services, also
called 'party service'. Such enterprises provide snacks like meat-pies, fried chicken,
spring rails or plantain chips and peanuts, or, if required, full meals of rice and
meat, but I have rarely seen chat in Bekwai. At the one funeral I visiced in Accra 1
did and I was cold chat it is also getting common in Kumasi. Food provided by
catering services is always served in individual portions in disposable containers or
paper bags, sometimes rogether with a disposable fork and a paper napkin, which is
a very Western way of serving food and contrasts sharply with the Asante way of
eating. Eating wich the (right) hand from a common bowl, before and afcer which
the hands are washed with water, is still preferred by many people. Moreover, in
Asante it is a taboo to eat in public. One should always eat inside and preferably in
I20 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
the own home. Most people, then, took their portions home to share it with their
families or eat it later. Sometimes a special place like a school building was ap-
pointed for funeral guests to eat rheir food in private, even if it was only a bit of
crisps. Also for drinks, people are often taken to a more secluded place away from
the funeral grounds.
The new trend of serving food at funerals has evoked the critique that people are
rushing for food as soon as it is distributed, instead of mourning with the family.
Another problem mentioned by some was that when people will expect being served
with food, not serving food wil! be a public sign of poverty and thus a disgrace. And
of course, not everybody can afford a catering service.
THE 'FRIDGE'
The mortuary, or the 'fridge' in popular speech, which is usually attached toa hospi-
tal, is a major item in funerary expenses. Storage fees are high and usually rise with
time, so that some people try to move their dead relative from mortuary to mortuary
every week. Still, with the generally long periods spent in planning a funeral, people
tend to spend huge sums of money on preservingtheir 'stiffs'. Critique on this trend,
however, is frequently heard. Audrey Gadzekpo, a columnist in The Mirror, wrote a
column entitled 'Let us bury our dead':
'Much of traditional Ghana spends weeks and months planning how to get rid of
their "stiffs", [ ... ]On average we love to freeze our dearly departed fora month or
rwo before we consider them ready to go six-foot deep. [ ... ] The consequence of
this bizarre cadaver worship is that our mortuaries are spilling over and stinking for
lack of storage facilities. Try as they may, hospita! authorities just can't seem to dis-
suade us from storing our mortal remains as though they were part of a cryogenics
(scientific study of use of very low temperatures) experiment. They have devised a
punirive pricing system meant to hit us were it hurts - the pocket, forgetting that
in death, no expense is roo much. Mortuary accommodation rates rival circle hotel
prices: first week, (/:1,000 a day; second week, <t:5,000 per day and third week,
<t:10,000 per day. [ ... ] For the average month-long freeze period for the Ghanaian
stiff we seem to think necessary in order to accord our proper respects, the price
comes to q:182,000 in mortuary fees alone. For the seven-rnonths-long frozen
chief, the mortuary bill alone must have been a staggering <t:7 million (enough to
buy a modest Lada car, I'm sure). I am not the one to teil people what to do with
their dearly departed, but surely, spending 4:7 million on cold storage with no
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
hopes of reviving the person at some future date is rhrowing money down the
drain' (Gadzekpo 1995).
Prices stated here are those of 1995. Patience told me that with the funeral of Kofi
Afari the family had spent <t:96,000 on mortuary fees for one week. Embalming,
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' I2I
which used to be clone by local herbalists, is now also clone in the mortuary. New
techniques are used to keep the body better preserved. This is more expensive than
just keeping the body frozen and also more expensive than embalming it the tradi-
tional way. But so much value is put on planning an elaborate celebration and hav-
ing the body present that people are willing to pay a lot. Moreover, keeping a body
in the fridge for a long time adds to the prestige of the funeral and the status of the
deceased and his/her family, since people know mortuary prices.
Apart from the discussion about the high costs, people's ambivalence towards
mortuaries further appears in stories in the newspapers about wrongly identified
bodies, disappeared bodies, people frozen to death in mortuary fridges and ether
unusual events during the process of storing a dead body. I read a story in The Parrot
of November 17th 1998, 'Mortuary men fight over corpse', about a fight between
two mortuary attendants about who has the right to attend to the corpse that broke
out when mourners carne to collect the body of their deceased relative for burial.
When the reporter later questioned one of them as to why they had to fight over a
corpse, he said: 'my brother, the salary is not enough so when people die it is our
chance to make some extra cash.'
THE CARRIER
The same maxim seems to hold for car owners and drivers. Before the advent of cars
on a large scale, corpses were carried to the place ofburial on the heads or shoulders
of a few people. Sometimes special stretchers were used. This posed limitations to
the distances covered. I have already mentioned that increased transport facilities
have had a significant impact on funerals. It has become possible, even in the vil-
lages, to bring deceased persons to the mortuary in order to organise a big funeral
instead ofburying the person quickly. It has become possible to bring people home
who have died 'sornewhere', instead ofburying thern there and sending only some
hair and finger nails home for 'burial'. But now that transport has become (almost)
generally available, the actual vehicle used in conveying the corpse, has become
more rhan a practical mode of transportation, a status symbol.
When I once took the once-a-day trotro to Odaho, a small and remote village, I
was not surprised by the long delay before departure. I was surprised, however, when
all the passengers got down and a dead man, covered by a sheet, was brought from
the hospita! and laid at the back seat of the car with his naked feet sticking out of the
window. When all the people were squeezed on their seats again and his coffin was
fixed on top of the roof, we set off to the village. For people in the towns, such a way
of transporting a corpse would be an attest to poverty, a great disgrace, destroying
their public image. Most people prefer to pay high prices to hire an ambulance or a
pick-up car to convey their dead relative from the mortuary to the home and, more
irnportantly, from the home to the cemetery in a public procession. Transport own-
ers exploit this concern with public image and can ask as much as q:200,000.
I22 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba
123

An advertisement in a Ghanaian daily for hearse rentals stated 'American Cadillac ,. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
hearse; Thursday renral <t90,ooo per day; Fri & Sat rentals crro.ooo a day' (Yeboah- ACC<)MMÖDÄ. TION
Afari 1997: 6n). At the Komfo Anokye T caching Hospita! in Kumasi one can hire a WANTED
beautiful hearse. lt is a black ambulance with curtains of kente behind the windows
and an inscription that reads 'adee pena hiring hearse. Adee pena means 'sornerhing hree Bedroom Accom- FUNERAL ANNOUNCEMENT
CHIEF MOURNERS: Ekuona Abusuapanin Akwasi Nsiah; Kofi
modation in (preferably; Boadi, Teacher Nyame, Kojo Tuffour, Kwame Adasi, Kwabena
which is difficulr to get' and therefore very valuable. I have not asked of the price of Kyei, Madam Akua Achiaa, Maame Mansah, Akosua Kru wah,
ut not necessary) th Abena Boakyewaa, Akrowa Obapanin Nana Ayaa Nkansa, Ank ase
this hearse, but the inscription may be a hint. Obaapanin Nana Akosua Anane and Ekuona Abusua; Madam Yaa
ollowing areas: Bayaa, (Suarne); Maame Abena Koo, (Bohyen) regret to ann ounce
Drivers and transport owners also profit from the transportation of funeral guests. the sudden death oftheir beloved:
BANTAMA
Funerals are greatly stimulating mobiliry, being one of the main reasons for people to SUNTRESO
travel. Most traffic accidents appear to happen on Saturdays. On Saturdays after a KWADASO
funeral, whether in towns or in villages, there is often a lack of transport. Drivers may PATASE
rise their prices to bring visitors back home. Sometimes a group of funeral goers hires SANTASE
a minibus or a taxi, especially when the funeral is in a small village without frequent ASUOYEBOA and
transport. Hiring a bus to transport funeral guests from the family house to the ~BREPO.
church, to the cernetery and back to the funeral grounds is, when necessary, the re-
Give the necessary
sponsibiliry of the family. But also if the distances are small, they may prefer to hire a
information to Elizabeth zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGF
bus. Ata funeral in Trede, for instance, the distance between the family house and
Jipl:. 26140.
the church was about 200 metres walk, but we should by all means take the brand
new air-conditioned bus that drove the mourners straight across the village. FIRST
ANNIVERSARY
Asona Abusuapanin Opanin
Kwabena Pie, Opanin Kwaku
THE MEDIA Tuffour, Mr. Amponsah Marfo,
(M.D., Ewiase Spare Parts, Ku-
masi); Mr. C.K. Boailey, Nana
OBAAPANIN AKUA
Open any edition of the regional Asante weekly The Pioneer and you will find half of Sepon Panin Nyamaah Sarfo,
Asaamhene, Mr .. K.K'.Trimpong,
FRIMPOMAAH
(Kantamanto Marker), Mr. Rob-
Aged 81.
the pages filled with obituaries and memorials with photographs of the deceased. ert Owusu-Asare, Snr, Account-
Funeral arrangements are as fellows:
THERE WILL BE NO WAKE-KEEPING.
Also in the national dailies every day around eight funeral announcements appear on ant, Dompoase Sec. Sch.,
LAVING-IN-STATE: Thursday, January 21, 1999 from 4 a.m. to
Maamenom Afua Gyamfuaah, 11 a.m., and thence to Akrowa Cemetery for BURIAL.
the page with advertisements for entertainment and change of name. Newspapers Akosua Pokuaah, Abena Konadu
FUNERA L Rl"I;ES: Saturday anuary 23, 1999 at Akr owa Offu i-
and the entire fämily wish to an- so Road from 12 noon to 6 p.m. ·
have made it possible to give wide publicity to the deceased's achievements in terms nounce for the infonnation of the
CHILDREN: Osel Francis, Kofi Amakye, (London); Kofi Boye,
genera! public that the FIRST
(Bondplex); Bonsu, Centra! Market, Kumasi; Osei-Owusu, (M.D.,
of culturally accepted criteria of success. The advertised death has gained a promi- ANNIVERSARY of their
White Orange Hotel, Bohyen); Akoto, Spare Parts Dealer, Suam c;
beloved: ·
nent place in the way death is incorporated in the process of shaping modern identi- Afua Adumasa, (alias Ogya, Centra! Marker, Kumasi); Akosua
Pokuaa, (Londen): Anti Ama Yeah, (7 & 8, Kwnasi Stadium );
ties, which favour elite standards. There are three rypes of 'death advertisements': Anti Yaa Achiaa, (Yam Seller, Centra! Market, Kwnasi); Adwoa
Ayiwa, (London); Atwimaa Mansa, (Maakr o); Am a Duku,
the obituary, which announces the death of a person (under the heading 'home call', (Suame); Yaa Nkrumah, (Suame); Abena Saa, (Akrowa); Kofi
Appia-Akoto, (Gold Crest, Kumasi); Owusu Kani, (Clearin g
'transition', 'ar rest' or 'obituary') and the particulars of his/her funeral arrange- Agent, Airport, Accra); Madam Adwoa Fosuaa.
GRA ND CHILOREN: Madam Ama Kromah, (Cement Seller,
ments, the memorial, and the 'thanks for sympathy'. A rypical obituary starts with a Railways, Kumasi): Ama Konadu, (Pat, Trader, Asafo Market, Ku-
masi); Akwasi Boadi, (London); Kofi Tutu, (London); Akosua Ko-
list of names, titles and positions, of the people who 'regret to announce the sudden namah, (Accra); Akua Nyarko, (Centra! Market, Kumasi); Ama
Bemah, (London); Kojo Nsafour, (USA); Nana Afriyie, (London);
death of their beloved', followed by the name of the deceased. Then his/her other Esther Mensah, (Nurse, Mampong-Ashanti); Margaret Mensa,
(Teacher, Kwadaso); Afua Pomaah, (Suame); Nana Yna Akyiaah ,
names (alias ... ), age and day and place of death ('which sad event occurred on ... MAAMEADWOA (LISA); Abena Agyeman, (USA); Kwaku Dua, (Car Dealer, Ofo-
at ... ) are stated, When the person occupied an honourable posirion, his/her occu- POKUAAH rikrom, Kumasi); Aisha, (Suame); Gordon Oppong Mensah,
(alias Florence Appiah} (Londen); Ama Adwubi, (USA); Richard Achampong, (USA);
pation may also be stated. When one looks through the national dailies, there are wil! be observed on SA T- Komfoo Serwaah, (Akrowa); Abena Achiaa, (Centra! Market, Ku-
masi) and Mrs. Ntirn-Duodu, (Australia). _.
strikingly many ministers, managing directors, engineers, officers, chiefs and queen- URDA Y, zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
23RD JANUARY, IN-LAWS: Nana Oyokohene Kusi Agyekum, (Kumasi); .Nana
1999 ai the Family House, Korkyirem 111, (Gomua Ankamu); Mr. Mathew Kofi, Mr. Acham -
mothers among the advertised dead. Then follow the funeral arrangernents, usually Asaam, Marnpong-Ashanti pong, (Ekumfi Asaafa, C/R); Kojo Boadi, (Kwam ang, ex-Chief
from 1 p.m. to 6 p.m. Driver. Accountant General's Dept., Kumasi).
starting with the announcement 'no wake-keeping'.' After the arrangements an- All friends and sympalf1isers GREAT GRAND CHILDREN: Over 100.
are cordiafly invited: All Friends and sympalhisers are cordially invited.
other list of names, which usually takes more than half of the advertisement space,
124 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
rnentions the widow(er), children, brothers and sisters, cousins, nephews and nieces,
(great)grandchildren, in-laws and, lastly, tp.e chief mourners. These area group of
influential people (related or not), like chiefs and town elders, family heads, church
pastors and officials, who associate themselves with the funeral, wherher they wil! be
actually present or not. This long list also states occupations, companies and places
of sojourn of the relatives, with emphasis on those who stay abroad or have high
positions with big companies. All this enhances the social status of the deceased.
The memorial ('in memoriam' or 'in ever loving memory of) is quite different.
The name of the deceased is followed by a short text containing a looking back on
the moment of death and the vacuum and sorrow that followed and a reference to
the belief that the deceased now rests with God. A bible quote may be added. The
concluding saying is usually something like 'fondly remembered by you wife, chil-
dren, brothers, sisters and the entire family.' The actual names of all zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
the relatives
lack. In the 'thanks for syrnpathy' advertisements the relations of the deceased, again
without their names menrioned, express 'their sincere appreciation to all friends and
well-wishers who in diverse ways sympathised and mourned wirh thern during the
death, burial and funeral rites of rheir beloved ... ,' followed by 'may the Almighry
God richly bless you all.'
It seems to be mostly the elite (both traditional and modern) who uses the nation-
al dailies to publicise their deaths. Advertising death is advertising self and family. In
obituaries and memorials, people highlight Western education by using quotes from
English literature and Christianity by using bible quotations, references to God and
social ties with pastors. Further, job careers, upward rnobiliry, social networks and
migration are publicised. These are the symbols of success, needed in the construc-
tion of selfhood in modern society. Lawuyi states in his arricle on obituaries in Nige-
rian dailies that 'obituary and congrarulation advertisements are not only about
power, but are also attributes of status' (1991a: 248) and that it is' difficu!t to appreci-
ate death symbolism without understanding the emergence of modern individualis-
tic morality and the new cultural premises that have resulted' (ibid.: 249). This is
certainly true, but in Ghanaian obituaries the focus is both on individualistic attrib-
utes or criteria of success and status and on values of family, community, and accu-
mulation of people.
Radio is also involved in advertising the dead and their families. Radio announce-
ments are more common (and cheaper) than newspaper obituaries, but not very dif-
ferent in content. A typical funeral announcement on the (regional) radio mentions
also a whole lot of names complete with places of sojourn and occupations, followed
by the name and age of the deceased and the funeral arrangements. This is repeated
several times a day. Radio is also used as a medium to express rhanks for syrnpathy,
but I have never heard memorials.
Tobias Wendl rnentions an interesting development in the use of the media in
the context of death and funerals to enhance prestige. He writes that a television
entrepreneur in Accra is currently preparing the first 'Funeral Channel' in the world.
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Jndustry' 125
It will, interrupted by commercial breaks and at very high prices, bring about the
exclusivity of elite funerals. 'This marks the beginning of a new era of televised
necrology, and it is to be expected that the feedback effect of the media will further
add to the potlach-like character of Ghanaian funeral celebrations' (Wendl 1998: 49,
original in German, translation MdW).
THE PRINTING SERVICE
Apart from the established media of newspapers, radio and television, people also
make their own small 'media' to publicise their dead relatives. At printing service
shops in larger towns (there is none in Bekwai) they have not only the usual funeral
programmes, invitations, and posters printed, but also snack bags, T-shirts, handker-
chiefs, key holders, bottle openers, and even plates. For all these things pictures of the
deceased are used. The items are usually distributed among family and friends. At the
year celebration of the death of a woman in Bekwai, all guests were given a meat-pie
in a bag with the portrait of the woman on it, a silvery plate with her name and a bot-
de opener with a passport size colour picture and an inscription. In case of the death
of a big chief, the production of such memo rial nicknacks may be commercialised. At
the burial of the Dormaahene, T-shirts, headscarves, buttons, calendars, mugs, and
clocks were being sold to the public. When the Asantehene Oturnfuo Opoku Ware II
died in February 1999 an announcement appeared in the papers that nobody was
allowed to use his picture for the production and sale of such items. The royal family
created a monopoly for itself on the commercial exploitation of the Asantehene's
death and engaged in merchandising all kinds of memorial gadgets.
AND THE BANK
With the growth of all those small services and businesses engaging in death, funer-
als have become an extremely costly affair. Funeral societies described in the previ-
ous chapter have come to play an important part in the financing of grand funerals, a
form of funeral insurance. But not everybody takes part in such a collective saving
programme. When bereaved families don't have the money required for the funeral
they intend to organise and have difficulties raising funds from well-to-do friends or
acquaintances, some banks grant thern 'funeral loans' to pay for the expenses. Arhin
has added a note to his article, stating that 'The rural banks specialise in such loans.
For example, the Nwabiagya Rural Bank at Bare-Kese, of whose board of directors I
happen to be chairman, advances a maximum of 150,000 cedis (about Ezyxwvutsrqponmlkj
156) to a
family for funeral rites on condition that the donations, nsa, are surrendered to the
bank immediately after the funeral. The head of the family and another persen are
also required to stand as surety. Interest on the loan is 5 percent at the Nwabiagya
Rural Bank' (1994: 320). So not only individuals who run small businesses, but also
larger companies like banks profit from the Asante funeral obsession.
I2 6 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Consumption, lifestyle and identity zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
the social meanings of rites of passage, and not simply symbolic markers of these
Having described the funeral industry from the entrepreneurs' point of view, I shall
now turn to their customers. Speaking of funeral services and entrepreneurs in terms
of 'industry' and 'business' might suggest that it is mainly a matter of production
and consumption on sheer economie terms of supply and demand. However, the
funeral industry - as I believe does all economics - amounts to more than this, Of
course, the entrepreneurs I have just described provide their services and products in
inreraction with people's needs, wishes, and willingness to buy. But to understand
how people actually deal with and make meaning of certain consumption practices,
we have to pay attention to consumption - of goods and of services - as a cultural
practice (cf. Appadurai 1996; Friedman 1994; Miller 1995). Only then can we recog-
nise the 'diversiry created by differential consumption of what had once been
thought to be global and homogenising institutions' (Miller 1995: 3). Local articula-
tions, negociacions and creative appropriations of consumption are part of the con-
struction of a local Asante modernity.
'WHITE MAN'S THINGS'
Most Ghanaians have a strong preference for products from abroad, Aburokyire
nneema, or 'white man's things'. A much higher value is placed on imported goods
than on locally produced goods, as indicated by the preference for serving bottled
beer, Coca-Cola, and Fanta to palm wine. Anything coming from the West, from
building materials and furniture to cloches and cosmetics, is regarded as more beau-
tiful and qualitatively beteer than anything local is. White rnan's things are thus
highly desirable. Yet, it is not sheer copying chat consumption of Western products
is about. Consumption of Western goods is generated by a desire to appropriate the
West and to incorporate it in the being of the consumer (cf. Rowlands 1994). West-
ern consumer goods are thus incorporated in a particular local cultural practice, the
funeral in our case.
Appadurai remarks chat 'in many societies, important rites of passage have con-
sumption markers' (1996: 68). This is clearly so in Asante funerals, where key
moments, as I have described earlier, include the donation of (imported) consumer
goods like shampoo, canned milk, and bottles of gin and doch by the in-laws, serv-
ing beer, soft drinks and sometimes 'take-away food' to the sympathisers, and the
viewing of the decorated corpse and display room. Such consumption practices are
not mechanica! exchanges following a fixed set of rules, hut, Appadurai argues 'stra-
tegie interactions' (ibid.: 69). People follow certain consumption strategies to attain
specific individual or group ends. These needs have much to do with social prestige
and social pressure. 'What affects social salience is the nature, timing, scale, and
social visibility of the material transactions chat constitute the ritual process of these
rites [ ... ] The socially organized periodicities of consumption [ ... ] are constitutive of
Business and Death: The 'Funeral lndustry' 127
meanings' (ibid.: 70). The consumption practices at Asante funerals do not just
serve to symbolically mark the transition of the deceased from life to death, hut have
a strong social significance, closely connected to the life of the living.
When we look at the use of irnported products outside the funeral context, we
can see chat the products chat people present as gifts to the bereaved family on
funeral celebrations are the same kind of products that they exhibit in the showcase
in their (living) room. Alrnost every house or private room, also in villages, has such
a showcase among the furniture. Ic has several compartments, some of which have
glass doors, and is often placed next to or in front of the sofa or armchairs used to
receive visitors. Next to the never used set of pans, whiskey glasses and cutlery car-
rousel, the visitor will see imported consumption goods like canned foods (sardines,
cornedbeef, and beans in tomato sauce are popular), eins of condensed milk, packets
of biscuits, and cosmetics such as shampoos, perfumes and creams, all nicely ar-
ranged behind the glass doors. These products are only seldom used for nutritional
needs or personal hygiene. They serve more as room decoration and attest to the
owner's capacity to consume thern. The same kind of products, when donated at
funerals, are not meant to be an actual contribution to the receiver's nutritional
needs, hut add to the status of the giver, the receiver and the dead, because they pub-
licly testify to the giver' s ability and willingness to buy and present chose things. The
face chat gifts like bottles of imported spirits may be hired and returned afterwards
only shows chat it is indeed visibility and show chat matters, and not actual intake. In
both cases, the things on display symbolise a lifestyle of consumption of imported
goods many people aspire to and are as such a materialisation of what ic means to be
modern and successful.
Arhin (1995) argues chat up to the colonial period money or wealth was a means
for strengthening the community as a whole (by way of redistribution of wealth).
The colonial regime, with its concomitant tendency towards individualism reversed
rhis, Money (and consumption) became a way of enhancing individual power.
'Today, the rich, by virtue of conspicuous consumption in marital and funeral
observances, tend to exercise more social power and "respect" than formal custom-
ary authoriry-holders' (Arhin 1995: 107). Ogbuagu similarly argues chat 'burying in
Nigeria has become an example par excellence of extravagant show-off of one's
wealth, "abilities", and social status. Ic has remarkably departed from the deep ritual-
istic but much less expensive methods of yesterday. People, instead of concentrating
on sympathizing with the bereaved family, these days seem to focus attention on the
type of casket, how many tiers of bed decorations, type of lace material used espe-
cially for room curtains and how wel! the "death" show room is decorated with
flashy and luxurious items to reflect class and distinction of the bereaved families'
(1991: 31). I would argue, however, chat the elaboration of consumption practices
can not be seen as a radical reversion brought about by colonialism. Consumption at
funerals is not only a matter of showing individual power and status. lt happens
I2 8 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
within existing exchange patterns of social relations and obligations. Parry and
Bloch's distinction between short-term an.d long-term exchange (1989) can clarify
the process. At Asante funerals the two things happen at the same time. In practices
like the adosoa show, the presentation of adesiedee; the display and use of (imported)
schnapps, or the purchase of a fancy coffin, people buy or hire goods in a (individ-
ual) competition for status. But they do this within a cultural pattern of exchange
and social responsibilities, which reproduces the social order. Following certain
exchange strategies, they at the same time negotiate this order of relations between
(groups of) people. Moreover, the exchanges taking place at the end of every (adult)
person's life refer to cultural notions of the cosmic order, which is not reproduced as
being the only cosmology, but reproduced in the sense that it is cornmented upon.
Purchase may have become a way of self-realisation (cf. Barber 1995) and individual
distinction, but it is through the performance of group relations and identities at
funerals that this is communicated.
BuYING SERVICES
Consumption here refers not only to the consumption of goods, but also of services
arising from the commercialisation and professionalisation of the 'death industry' in
contemporary Ghana. Keeping the body in the mortuary for a long time, hiring a
commercial funeral undertaker to lay the body in state, or paying a photographer or
video maker to record the whole scene, all add to the casts involved and, since peo-
ple know the prices of such services, to the prestige of the family. The more money is
spent, the better the funeral. Spending money (wastefully) has become an important
status marker.
The Asante value of wealth accumulation and redistribution has taken on new
farms with the emergence of modern ideals of a Western-inspired consumptive life-
sryle. Where in the past status derived from the accumulation ofwealth and its redis-
tribution among family and other relations, success is now also measured by one's
abiliry to spend. Much value is therefore placed on buying services, especially in
order to make a great funeral for one's deceased relative. Hiring professionals at high
cost instead of having certain tasks carried out by family members themselves is a
sign of a lifesryle based on individual achievement and abiliry to purchase, a way of
communicating one's success in modern life.
In the beginning of this chapter I asked whether contracting out certain parts of
the funeral to 'strangers' undermines the experience of community, which used to
be created by communal participation in 'sacred' tasks (Vollbrecht 1978). As I have
shown in the previous chapter, the sense of communiry stimulated by death and
funerals has not disappeared. A funeral is still the occasion for much sharing, circula-
tion of money and goods, forging of social relationships, and expression of group
identiry. But the value placed on the consumption of services shows that the funeral
has also become the occasion for the expression of new values of individualiry. Not
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' I29
having a relation in Bekwai doing a certain task, but hiring a professional from
Kumasi, implies that one departs from a system of reciprocal help and interdepen-
dence toa system based on individual abiliry to purchase and independence. Yet,
many tasks at funerals are still carried out on the basis of reciprociry. And also when
a professional is hired, the question is who pays for ir and this is aften part of a recip-
rocal relation, such as when the children of a dead man hire a body decorator to lay
him in state in recognition of what he has done for rhem during his lifetime. The
experience of communiry is much less undermined than a simple view of a 'Great
Transformation' might suggest. Rather, the interplay between the value of commu-
niry and the value ofindividualiry is one that constantly reappears and is worked out
in the celebration of funerals.
fUNERAL FASHION
Anorher expression of individualiry and a particular kind of consumption is the
Ghanaian funeral fashion. When I carne home with my newly made funeral dress,
my housemates reacted enthusiastically: 'EiAdwoa, ioobo laif!', literally 'you make
life', meaning, in this case, you are fashion-conscious. It is an expression I aften
heard in the context of funerals, with special reference to clothing and dressing up,
but also to dancing and enjoying life (in the positive sense). Indeed, funerals are
aften like a fashion show, where seeing and being seen is what matters. A consider-
able part, then, of most people' s wardrobes consists of funeral outfits and those who
can afford it will do their best to appear in a new dress any time rhey visit an impor-
tant funeral. The fact that I had only one funeral dress and thus appeared in the same
one every Saturday did not please Joana and she insisted on lending me some of hers.
A woman's funeral outfit consists of a long tube skirt (slit), a blouse (kaba, from
the English 'cover', to indicate that it covers the shoulders in contrast to the tradi-
tional doch wrapped around the body), and a 'cover cloth' (akatasoJ), which may be
wrapped around the hips, used to carry babies on the back or worn, by unmarried
wamen, as a turban on the head. Especially the kaba's tend to be very fashionable
and the object of much creativiry. Fashion is changing fast, with new designs (of
kaba's as well as materials) coming out each year. These designs are given specific
names, 'happiness' for instance. Usually they have huge and elaborate sleeves and are
shaped to accentuate the female farms. Very fashionable at the time of my sray were
small strips at the (bare) back combined with a flat collar and a zipper at the front.
Queen-mothers and elderlywomen may dress the traditional way, wich one piece of
cloth worn as a wrap-around skirt and another one draped over the upper part of the
body (dansinkran). A man's outfit consists of one large piece of doch ('full piece')
draped loosely over the body, worn with much elegance and constantly readjusted.
Men's dress, then, is less susceptible to fashion, since it is more the rype and the
amount of material used that matter, with a very large and sumptuous cloth, rather
than the latest design, bestowing status upon the wearer.
IJO Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Wamen almost always wear a duku (headscarf). There are many styles of tying
duku. Most common is the simple way wjth the knot in the neck, but these who
want to be fashionable turn their head into an Easter egg with a big bow right on
top. Tying the duku is an art and my ability to tie my own duku in different sryles,
especially the fashionable ones, was considered a big step forward, 'new you are
really an Asante girl.' A funeral dress may further be matched with accessories like a
watch, a handbag, jewellery, shoes (instead of slippers), and even sunglasses and a
hat. The whole is completed with make-up and perfume.
Traditionally it is not clone to doll oneself up like that for funerals. When one is
mourning one has to dress modestly, without jewellery or any other finery. It is a
sign of respect, for the dead as well as for the bereaved family. At royal funerals sup-
posed to be 'very traditional', one may not even be allowed to wear a duku. Ideally a
woman should shave her hair, but most use a black hairnet to cover their hairdo.
When I attended the burial ceremonies for the late king of Dormaa, I did not know
this and was perplexed when one of the abrafo» (traditional soldiers, 'executioners',
those who see that laws are carried out) snatched my duku and ran off with it. Nana
Konadu Rawlings, the first lady of Ghana and herself of royalAsante blood, caused a
hot debate in the press when she showed up at the burial ceremonies for the late
Asantehene wearing a headscarf, golden jewellery and even sun glasses. It was con-
sidered a highly disrespectful act, especially so for a royal Asante woman. At non-
royal and less traditional funerals, however, dressing up fashionably is very com-
mon, though many older people still dress modestly and do not wear jewellery and
dressing up too much may evoke criticism.
Fashion is a particular type of consumption, directly pertaining to the body and
to the self as constituted through the body. Consumption of fashion is generated by
a desire to establish an identity space, a lifestyle based on an image of good life
(Friedman 1994). Ghanaian funeral fashion is about making statements of modern
identity, especially since it is, except for the colour, so contrary to traditional funeral
dress codes. In the olden days ir was also at funerals that identity played a role and
was expressed with clorhing, but this pertained in the first place to family and clan
identiry, to one's relation to the deceased expressed with raffia, shells, leaves, and the
colour of one's cloth, Now the way one dresses at funerals is much more about in-
dividual identiry and personal style and choice. 'This process [of modern consump-
tion] is rooted in the dissolution of fixed social identities [ ... ] and the emergence of
the modern individualized subject, bereft of a larger cosmology or a fixed self-defini-
tion' (Friedman 1994: 168). This has much to do with the distinction berween city
and village (or 'bush') described in the last chapter, between being traditional (or
backward) and being modern, embedded in the discourse of progress and civilisa-
tion. By dressing garishly one not only shows one's individual, modern lifestyle, but
also explicirly breaks with the traditional rules concerning funeral dress. Ic is a clear
statement that one does not care about traditional customs, but shapes one's own
individuality with the accessories of modernity.
Business and Death: The 'Funeral Industry' I3I
ENTERTAINMENT
Every Saturday night there is a 'funeral dance party' in Hotel de Kingsway in Kumasi.
It starts around 6zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDC
p.m., when most funerals in town have come to an end and mourn-
ers gather there to continue to party. They wear their finest mourning clothes, drink
beer and dance to highlife music. After midnight most funeral goers go home and
other people start coming and the scene turns into a 'normal' dance night. In Bekwai
something like this does not exist, but chatting, drinking, and listening to music in
bars is part of every funeral and many funerals end in a small dance party at the funeral
grounds. On a Saturday evening a friend of mine rold me that he was 'in the funeral
mood', referring to feeling like drinking and dancing. I have also heard of people in
Kumasi who on Saturdays put on their funeral cloth, go to town, ask the first funeral
goer they meet in the street where the funeral is and visit the funeral of a person they
don't know. Others may take their car and drive around to visie even five or six funerals
on their free Saturday. Not because so many people they know have died, but because
they enjoy the sociality of funerals. Funerals have become a form of entertainment.
In the past too, funerals had recreational aspects, as Nketia (1955) points out.
Mourners wore their best clothes and drummers, dancers and singers were expected
to excel in their performances. A funeral provided a setting in which to exhibit artis-
tic and aesthetic standards. There was competitive dancing and drumming. Today it
seems chat sometimes entertainment is the main reason for people to visie funerals or
for bereaved families to organise certain activities. Funeral guests expect to be enter-
tained and catered for. Funerals chat promise to be exciting - usually the funerals of
rich and important persons - will attract crowds of people, as did the funeral I
attended in Accra, where the family hired a cultural group to provide the guests with
a show of traditional drumming and dancing from all parcs of Ghana.
We should place entertainment in the context of the distinction berween work-
ing time and leisure time that carne about with the introduction of wage labour. The
idea of leisure and recreation, originally a foreign concept in Ghana, rook root with
the colonial system and especially with the development of civil service and a colo-
nial, Western-oriented elite. The 1920s saw the growth of paid entertainment in the
field of music, dance and theatre, the entertainment business. At first, it was only the
elite who could afford the high entry fees, but in the course of the 20th century the
idea and the possibility of going out after work or in the weekends spread to larger
parts of the urban population. Entertainment such as going to the movies, toa dance
club, or going out for dinner, has now become part and parcel of the urban Ghana-
ian lifestyle. Mainly weekends are reserved for this and Saturday' s funerals, though
quite something else, have become an integral part of the lifestyle pattern of work
during the week and recreation in the weekends. In Bekwai entertainment is limited
toa few bars and one video house where predominantly foreign movies are shown. It
is mainly the young who patronise those places on Friday and Saturday night. For
most people, then, weekend entertainment evolves around church and funerals.
r32 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
When casually talking with people in Bekwai about oncoming funerals, I noticed
that people are often really looking forwar1 to Saturday's funeral.
Modernisation in Ghana brought with it a transformation of the habitus, new
lifestyles and ideals. The ideal of wealth accumulation has got a new impulse by the
increased interactions with the West, the enlargement of possibilities, and the mod-
ern ideal of a Western consumptive lifestyle. Traditional norms and values are in the
modern context expressed and transformed by modern means. Imported consump-
tion goods are more valued rhan locally produced goods. Money has always had a
symbolic value for the Asante, but this has been greatly increased by the growrh of
the market economy and has acquired almost magical dimensions. Conspicuous
consumption and wasteful spending seem to have become the visual markers of
social status. Funeral celebrations, being the main public events, are the best occa-
sions to communicate these signs and establish one's esteem. 'Clothes, furnishings,
and the serving of food and drink can be seen as statements about the nature of suc-
cess and impregnable position of the owner' (Rowlands 1994: 163). Cultural values
such as family honour, prestige, wealth accumulation, and generosity connected
to modern ideals of irnported products from the West and a consumptive lifestyle
explain much about present-day Asante funeral practices. They are ways of fulfilling
desires chat are identified with highly valued lifestyles, a visual and material realisa-
tion of the image of good life. Public consumption at funerals is a way of producing
selfhood, establishing a modern identity and social success, but within the context of
traditionally accepted norms of sharing and respect for the dead.
'Modernity', then, is not something simply taken over from the West. Practices of
'rnoderniry' such as consumption and commercial enterprise are locally appropriated
and transformed to suit existing cultural patterns of exchange and life values, which
are in turn also transformed. The adosoa show hired by the in-laws, the display of con-
sumer goods, the imported coffin provided by the children are only three examples of
modernitywithin tradition. Cultural groups to provide entertainment, imposed tradi-
tional dress codes at royal funerals, and, most remarkably, hired tears show us that 'tra-
dition' is in this process just as wel! reconstructed to fit contemporary cultural prac-
tice, that tradition exists only within modernity. The commercialisation of Asante
funerals is not a sudden change of the last decades, but a long-term process of gradual
and fluid transformation, which cannot be explained by an assumption of a Great
Transformation, based on the opposition between tradition and modernity. The prac-
tices here examined urge us to get beyond this very opposition to realise chat both 'tra-
dition' and 'moderniry' are locally constructed in contemporary cultural praxis.
The changes in scale and quality of funeral practices described in this chapter
have led to interference by authorities. Church leaders, traditional rulers (chiefs) and
the national government all try to curb funeral celebrations. In the next two chapters
I shall examine how churches and states respectively play their part in shaping death
and constructing contemporary funeral culture.
CHAPTER 5 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Church and Death:
Christian B urial
Jpanin Theophilus Kwaku Busumbru was the Ekuonahene, the chief of the
Ekuona clan, the clan of the buffalo. He also was an important eider in the Catholic
Church. On the 17th of November 1998 he died at the high age of 84 years. His
funeral is held one monrh later, on the 19th of December. He is not laid in state in
the family house, as is usually clone, but in the 'cathedra!'. He lies in a white coffin
in the middle of the church. I t is already closed and covered with lace when I arrive.
A group of 'church mothers' is standing around the coffin singing hymns. The
women of the Ekuona family, wearing headbands of kente, sit on the floer around
the coffin. Jpanin Busumbru has been a member of the St. Anna association and of
the 'Kwaku ne Akua Kuo', a church association ofWednesday-borns.' Both groups
are present and recognisable by their uniforms and common T-shirts. All mourners
are wearing white, because of the high age of the deceased. Burial mass is celebrated
according to Catholic protocol (see funeral programme on page 143-145 for details),
with a sermon by the priest, bible readings, hymns, prayers, collection, and corn-
munion. Then his biography is read out by a member of the family, followed by a
tribute by the family and a tribute by the children (see funeral programme). After
this a man, clad in black cloth, performs a traditional oath swearing ritual. With his
cloth rolled down, holding a ceremonial sword over the coffin, he swears his alle-
giance to the departed Ekuonahene. Interestingly, this part is not mentioned in the
'order ofburial mass'. Neither is his former position as Ekuonahene included in his
biography. It is a very emotional moment for many. People around me are crying
quietly. From the crucifix behind the altar Jesus looks down on the scene. After the
oarh the coffin is carried out of the church and put in an ambulance. The mourners
walk to the cemetery in procession, the church choir singing, a brass band playing,
rwo mass servants holding burning candles and the church associations singing and
dancing. When the coffin has been lowered into the cemented grave, the priest says
a few more words, blesses the grave with holy water and the mass servants blow out
their candles. A prayer is said and the priest shovels the first scoop of earth onto the
coffin, the abusuapanin the second. Then the wreaths are presented and put in the
grave. One of the sons throws a roo-cedi coin on the coffin. While most people
are leaving, the St. Anna-mernbers gather around the grave. The female eider
(Jbaapanin) gives a short speech, they hold hands, say the Lord's Prayer and sing
IJ4 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Church and Death: Christian Burial IJ5

a hymn. Then everybody leaves and the grave diggers start removing the wrearhs
and closing the grave.
Christianiry has gained a very strong foothold in the southern part of Ghana. The
church is of great importance in the life of many people and being a good Christian
is a major concern. Since the first missionaries carne to Ghana, Christian churches
have tried to mingle in the way funerals are celebrated and have indeed had a strong
impact on chat. Yet, as I have shown, many practices considered 'pre-Christian' or
'pagan' by churches are prevailing and new non-Christian practices have been intro-
duced, often to the dissatisfaction of churches. In this chapter I wil! address the
question of how people shape the relation between Christian churches and the cel-
ebration of funerals. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

Christianity in Ghana

HISTORY AND DEVELOPMENT

As Obeng (1996) shows in his scudy of Asante Catholicisrn, Christianity in Ghana

started with the early Catholic mission churches of the Portuguese traders, who
TO THE CEMETERY landed on the Gold Coast in 1471. These first churches remained limited to the trad-
ing forts along the coast. Ic was not until a century later chat systematic and inten-
tional missionary work was carried out in surrounding towns and villages. The Por-
tuguese were followed by French, Spanish and Belgian missionary efforts from 1673
to the beginning of the 18th century, but results remained very limited (ibid).
Protestant mission dates back to 1737 and was carried out by, among ethers, the
Basel Mission, which later became the Presbyterian Church of Ghana, the Wesleyan
Methodist Missionary Society (later Methodist Church of Ghana), and the Nord-
deutsche Missionsgesellschaft, which later (in 1954) became the Evangelical Presby-
terian Church (Meyer 1999a). The pioneering work of Protestant missionaries, who
entered the hinterland to reach local people, made use oflocally trained evangelists,
wrote down local languages (e.g. Christaller 1881), stimulated 'legitimate trade' (as
opposed to slave trade), and gave recognition to local religious and cultural beliefs
and practices, also paved the way for the eventual success of the Catholic mission
which resumed activities in 1880 (Obeng 1996: 103).
During the first period of missionary activiry, a marked division line existed
between Christian and non-Christian and an identiry developed around being
Christian as separated from the 'heathens'. Christians lived in nuclear family houses
in separate parts of town (salems), wore European clothing and did not marry non-
Christians (Meyer 1999a; Middleton 1983). Despite the ideal of 'adaptarion' of the
church to the customs of the African people (Obeng 1996), missionaries condemned
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
many traditional practices as 'pagari'. Concerning funeral rites, missions prohibited
PRESENTATION OF WREATHS certain 'pagan' pracrices like firing of rnusketry, putting objects and money into the
I36 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
coffin, slaughtering animals, making 'noise' (lamentations, drumming), afunsoa
(carrying the body around town to identify the witch responsible for the death) and
other 'unruly behaviour'. The abolition of such practices was seen by most of the
people as a serious infringement on their religious system (Middleton 1983) and met
opposition. For others, the comparatively cheap Christian burial and the fact that
Christians feared the dead less than heathens did was one of the reasons to convert
(Meyer 1999a: n).
As a result of missionaries' efforts in establishing schools and providing health
care and Western medicines, their emphasis on literacy and their world-wide orien-
tation, missions and Christianiry became strongly associated with progress. The
'White Man's religion' offered opportunities for social mobility and new wealth
arising from the development of the educational and mercantile system which fol-
lowed the introduction of cocoa by the Basel Mission in 1858 (Middleton 1983).
Christianity was for long associated with the Europeans and their seemingly un-
limited power. Being Christian became equal to being modern and civilised, while
not being Christian was regarded as being backward.
In the context of economie decline, colonial rule and the nationalist reaction
against it, African independent churches emerged, also referred to as indigenous
churches or spiritual(ist) churches (Mullings 1979). Some resulted from a split from
a mission church, others were newly established by individual prophets. Already
since 1862 independent churches were founded (Asare Opoku 1990), but it was not
until the 1960s that such churches became attractive to a great number of people and
competed with the established mission churches. These independent churches
formed part of a syncretistic movement, which sought to 'Africanise' Christianity
and, while rejecting 'traditional religion' as such, introduced and reworked African
cultural elements, such as spirit possession, healing, and traditional musical forms in
an attempt to create a 'place to fee! at home'.
This mixing of traditional culture and Christianity did, however, not only occur
in spiritual churches. Rev. Peter K. Sarpong, bishop of the Kumasi diocese since 1970
and a cultural anthropologist, has become internationally known for his ideas about
Africanising the liturgy of the Catholic Church.' In an effort to re-establish people's
pride in Asante culture, he pleads for the introduction of traditional cultural elernents
in Catholic worship, such as Twi songs, dancing, drumming, as well as traditional
symbols and material culture. This move entails a reified notion of traditional culture
as a clearly defined body of practices, objects, symbols, and music. In a recent book
(Sarpong 1996), he defended the practice of pouring libation as an African way of
prayer. It is the words accompanying the libation rather than the action itself which
make it Christian or not. The libation at Agnes Ankobiah's funeral (see introduction)
and the above described scene of the oath swearing ritual during )panin Kwaku
Busumbru's burial mass in the Catholic church can be seen in this light. However,
Sarpong's innovations have met resistance both within and outside the Catholic
Church. For many people it is the abstinence from 'traditional' practices and symbols
Church and Death: Christian Burial 137
that marks the difference berween Christians and 'pagans'. The introduction of such
elements in Christian worship makes this distinction fluid and is as such threatening.
The eighties and nineties saw the rapid emergence and growth of a great number
of Pentecostal churches, both established Pentecostal churches (like the Assem blies
of God) and new autonomous pentecostally oriented churches, also called charis-
matic churches (like Christian Hope Ministry or House ofFaith Ministries). Where
the earlier spiritual churches were mainly locally oriented, focussing on indigenous
culture, Pentecostal churches are part of an international movement. They explicitly
break with traditional culture and propagate 'moderniry', but at the same time in-
corporate local notions of witchcraft and evil spirits in the concept of the Devil
(Meyer 1995; 1999a).
These developments have led to the presence of a wide variety of different
churches in almost every town. In Bekwai, the Catholics were the first to establish a
mission post in the early 1920s. In the course of time Anglicans, Methodists,
Apostolics, Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah's Wimesses, and several Pentecostal
churches carne to the town, but the Catholic Church is still the biggest.
CHURCH AND IDENTITY
Being a Christian and belonging to a certain church is a very important constituent
of most people's life and a pillar of their identiry, Wok:J asire ben? (which church are
you attending?), is often one of the first questions asked when meeting somebody
new. For many people, taking part in church activities is the major form of enter-
tainment and social life. Not only do people attend church service on Sundays and
on weekdays and take part in prayer or healing sessions, many are also a member of
one or more of the many church related groups, like societies, prayer groups, and
choirs. Among the groups within the Catholic Church in Bekwai, the church I was
most involved in, are societies formed around a particular saint, like the St. Theresa,
St. Mary, and St. Anna Societies; groups based on the day ofbirth of its members,
such as the Kwaku ne Akua Kuo (association of Wednesday-borns); the Christian
Mothers' Association; and the Men's Fellowship. Such groups take upon them eer-
tain responsibilities in the church, like cleaning, decorating the altar or cooking for
visiting priests, but they also function as self-help groups, providing social security
for the members. Church groups are significant at funerals of rheir members, when
they play a central role in the performance of certain parts, especially praying over
the body and at the graveside and singing hymns during the laying-in-state cererno-
ny and the final funeral rites. Often they also make a substantial contribution to the
funeral casts or donate foodstuffs to the bereaved family. Many people are a member
of several groups at the same time and at their funeral, as was the case with )panin
Kwaku Busumbru's funeral, all of these groups are present to show that the deceased
was part of thern. It is then that a person's rich social life and close involvement in
the church is publicly attested to.
138 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
More than a person's affiliation with a particular church or church society, the
significance of Christian identity relates _to the very concept of personhood that
churches offer people and that departs from Akan notions of person (see Chapter 1).
In Akan thoughr a person's identity is primarily based on birth-derived particular-
ities of blood (mogya, abusua), land (hornetown) and ethnic origin. These extend
beyond death to asamando. A person's character and life course are also partially pre-
determined by his/her sunsum (spirit). The Christian concept of personhood, on the
ether hand, does not comprise cosmological predestinarion and emphasises a per-
son' s individuality and responsibility for decisions and wrongdoings. Rather than
on family, hometown, or culture, Christian identity is based on one's own deeds and
mora! behaviour. Before God all people of the world, no matter one's cultural, re-
gional or social background, are equal. Being a Christian, rhen, means belonging to
a world-wide spiritual community of Christians, the 'Kingdom of God' ( cf. Sarpong
n.d.), based on universa! Christian love and brotherhood and the acceptance ofJesus
Christ as one's personal saviour.
Whereas on a universa! and spiritual level every Christian is part ofGod's family,
on a local and social level, the church can also be seen as a secondary family. Mem-
bers of a church are like brothers and sisters and there exists a sense ofbrotherhood
between members of different branches of rhe same church or church society in och-
ers towns. This is expressed, among ether things, by visiting funerals in the same
church community elsewhere. When a pastor of the Church of Pentecost in Bekwai
died, a large delegation of pentecostfos from Obuasi and from Kumasi carne to his
funeral and made a common donation of q:200,000. When a member of the St.
Anna society in Obuasi died, Nana went wirh the St. Anna society ofBekwai to her
funeral, alchough she had never met the woman before.
People's loyalry to their church may conflict with their family loyalty and respon-
sibilities. Many things that some consider typical 'family matters', like marriage,
housing, or travel, can also be arranged rhrough the church community. The church
offers a way of coping with all kinds of problems, wherher healing sessions, prayer,
counselling, or practical support. In return people make financial contributions to
the church, which can be qui te large, often to the disapproval of family. Members of
a church community may thus feel a greater loyalty to fellow church members, even
in other towns, than to rheir own lineage members. In Pentecostal churches this
takes the radical form of explicit!y breaking with one's extended family to free one-
self from any evil powers deriving from grandmothers or aunts in the village, as it is
preached by Pentecostal pastors (Meyer 1998). zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
As concerns death and funerals, a church also acts as a secondary family, taking
over part of the organisarion and direction of the funeral from the abusua of the
deceased. Upon the death of a church member, a church funeral committee may be
formed to arrange part of the funeral, in particular the burial service, procession and
interment. This committee usually consists of the pastor and some elders of the
church. In co-operation with the family they select the music to be played, the
Church and Death: Christian Burial 139
hymns to be sung, and the bible readings, bur rhey may also try to have a hand in the
over-all planning of the funeral. This may lead to conflict when the church has dif-
ferent interests than the abusua, as was the case in Appiah's example of his father's
funeral (Chapter 2), when the church funeral comrnittee sided with the children to
carry out the father's wish of a simple funeral and the abusuawanted to make it a big
event. Also financially churches play their part. The Catholic Church in Bekwai has
a funeral fund to which members contribute and which is used for the burial of
church members. As I already mentioned, church societies too establish funds,
which are used upon the death of one of the members or a relative of a member. zyxwvutsrqpon
A Christian burial
Given the strong impact of the church in many people's lives, it is not surprising that
the church plays an important role in the organisation and performance of funerals.
It is at death that one's Christian identity and church affiliation are publicly recog-
nised with a Christian burial. Vollbrecht states in her dissertation that 'the differ-
ences between Christian and non-Christian funerals have been accepted in the same
way as those between funerals of the wealthy and the poor, the old and the young,
twins and non-twins' (1978: 341). I think this statement detracts too much from the
importance of the Christian character of a funeral. Though I would not say chat the
Christian character is the most important distinguishing feature of a funeral, for
many people themselves being accorded a Christian burial is a major concern and
Christian and non-Christian are indeed meaningful categories to them. A church
burial is much more prestigieus and one reason for converting to Christianity is to
have a 'fine' funeral (cf. Gilbert 1988). I have heard some cases of old people in
Bekwai who became a church member only a few weeks before their death. Church
leaders also put pressure on people, threatening thern chat if they are not a good
Christian, they will not get a church burial. Only if you area good church member,
i.e. if you regularly attend service and pay your church contributions, the church
will bury you. Having one's body brought into the church building before burial is
considered highly respectful and moreover, a 'ticket to heaven', just because it is an
affirmation of your good Christian life.
When Mr. Owusu Agyeman died (see Chapters 2 and 3), the leaders of the
Catholic Church, of which he had been a member, refused to have a burial mass for
him in church. They said he never attended church, not even when he was in
Bekwai, and thus could nor be considered a full church member. His relucrance in
attending mass was confirrned by his niece, who explained to me rhar he had feit a
conflict between the content of the church sermons and his work as a lawyer. She
said, however, rhat he had always paid his church duties, even while he was living in
Accra, and thus should have his body taken to church. With the help of some Catho-
lic friends she atternpted to persuade the church leaders to give him a Catholic burial
I40 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
in the church, yede no kJzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
asoredan mu, 'like Agnes Ankobiah' s burial, saa na eyeft paa,
like that it is very beautiful.' Mr. Owusu Agyeman's body was not taken to church.
A burial mass was said, however, at the courryard of the family house by, surpris-
ingly, the bishop himself, Rev. Thomas Mensah, wh/o carne from Obuasi for the
occasion.
Although what exact!y a Christian burial entails is always contested and con-
stant!y adapted to different situations, some major ingredients fora Christian burial
can be distinguished.
THE PASTOR
In the Catholic Church the role of the pastor (or priest) in the burial rites already
begins before death, when he administers the last sacraments toa dying persen. The
sacrament of the sick is given to strengthen a person's bond with God. Thereby it
enlarges a dying person's chance of going to heaven. This is compared to the tradi-
tional practice of giving a last sip of water, meant to enable the persen to make the
journey to asamando.
During the laying-in-state ceremony, the pastor usually pays a visit to the family
house. He prays over the body and blesses ir before it is put in the coffin and taken to
church. At the funeral of Agnes Ankobiah, the Catholic priest blessed the body with
holy water and led the church members who had gathered around the bed in prayer,
one Lord's Prayer and ten Hail Marys. All was recorded on video. At the funeral of a
member of a Pentecostal church, I saw the pastor screaming over the body to cast
away evil spirits from it. Obeng emphasises the supervising role of a pastor at a
wake-keeping and during subsequent activities to ensure chat the funeral is clone in a
Christian way, since the (Presbyterian) church is opposed to 'excessive drinking and
unruly activities that mark some funerals' (1996: 87). But it is also considered a big
honour for the deceased and for the family when the pastor attends the whole
funeral. It testifies to the deceased' s close involvement in the church, a highly valued
thing. As staced in the biography of the late Madam Mary Appiah (Burial and Final
Obsequies), 'Akosua became a staunch member of the Church of the Lord Brother-
hood International, Bekwai-Ashanti. The role she played in the church is eloquently
manifested over here roday by the pastors and the entire congregation of the
Church.' Ït also happens that families pay a lot of money to the church to have the
pastor present.
BURIAL SERVICE
As soon as the coffin is closed it is brought to the church, where a service is held for
the deceased. The church building itself is of particular importance. A big structure
of concrete and cement, nicely painted in bright colours, provides the perfect sur-
roundings for a fine funeral. The coffin is put in the middle of the church, covered
Church and Death: Christian Burial 141
with a piece of kente or white !ace. The service fellows a standard order and is con-
cluded by several speeches by relatives. In the sermon, emphasis is usually on new
life after death. When Bishop Thomas Mensah celebrated burial mass for George
Owusu Agyeman, he wore a green stele, symbolising, as he explained, new life for
George. 'Jbra no nsei, enyira, eresesa, life does not get spoilt, it does not get lost, ic
changes, he said, 'life changes from mortal to immortaliry.' In another burial sermon
the pastor recounted the biblical story ofhow J esus raised Lazarus from the dead and
assured the mourners that everybody can be raised and have eternal life. He rhus
reminded the bereaved family not to grieve for too long, but to hope for the resurrec-
tion of their dead relative. Prayers are devoted to the deceased, his/her resurrection
and eternal life in God's besom. The church choir and the entire congregation sing
appropriate hymns and psalms, usually in Twi.
After the service a representative of the family reads out a written biography of the
deceased, summarising the deceased's accomplishments and success in life. This
may be either in Twi or in English. Other relatives (children, widow, brorhers and
sisters) and representatives of certain groups (professional associations, church, tra-
ditional council) read out tributes and eulogies, also praising the deceased for his/her
good character, outstanding qualities and exemplary deeds. In front of the assem-
bied mourners and sympathisers, the deceased's life is reconstructed as a great suc-
cess (see below for more details), also if this life has not been a success at all. The
burial service is the last chance to publicly 'create' the persen. Not only the content,
but also the number of the eulogies is an indication of the deceased's life success. If
the family can afford it, they will print a funeral programme, including the biogra-
phy and the tributes, and distribute ir among the mourners just before the burial ser-
vice starts.
fUNERAL PROGRAMMES
At the more important Christian funerals, the mourners are provided wirh a printed
funeral programme. I received some at the funerals I attended andAkyeampomaa's
collection of about thirty pieces provided additional material. A rypical funeral
programme begins with the 'arrangements' or 'highlights', stating when, where and
at what time the specific ceremonies (laying-in-state, burial service, funeral rites,
thanksgiving service) are taking place. Then fellows a very detailed 'order ofburial
service', often including the titles of all songs to be sung. The biography of the
deceased may take up one or rwo pages, followed by the full texts of tributes by the
family, the children, the widow(er) and, in some cases, friends, the church or associ-
ations of which the deceased was a member. Several pictures of the deceased are
inserted in between. The last page is usually devoted to 'thanks for sympathy' or 'ap-
preciation', thanking all sympathisers for having come to mourn with the family. In
contrast to the church services and the rites at the grave, about which detailed infor-
mation - sometimes the words of the selected hymns and psalms fill pages - is given,
142 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Church and Death: Christian Burial 143 zyxwvutsrqpon

no details about the ingredients of the funeral rites are provided. The printed funeral
prograrnmes are strongly connected to zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
the Christian part of the funeral.
From the booklet Burial, memorial & tlianksgiving service for the late Theophilus
Kwaku Busumbru I quote his biography:
BUKIAL, NEMORIAL lt
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXW
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfed
'The late Theophilus Kwalm Busumbru was bom on August 1914 to Madam THANKSGIVING SERVICE
Oheneba - Obaapanyin Akosua Serwah of Okuana farnily, and Okyeame Kwabena /or the late
Busumbru Kyere, a senior linguïst to Nana Bekwaihene. He was baptised in the
year 4th October 1925 at Akrokeri Adanse in the church of Secret Heart [sic] and
had his first communion at the same church in the year 1927. At the same year he
has his confirmation in J une 6th. THEOPHILUS
He married his present wife in 30th November - by Rev. Father Acquaye at the
church of St. John the Evangelist - that is this very church. The wife the maiden KWAKU
name of which was Akua Benewaah who hails from Ayasi Bretuo clan in Adanse.
He started life with his father who was a cocoabroker at Akrokeri. In the year 1921,
BUSUMBKU
(Alias Kwaku Pomah)
he started school. He left Akrokeri 1929 when his father was not capable to see him
Aged 84,yrs zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWV
been admitted into Amisano Seminary.
From that time he lived with the various missionaries who carne to work in the
Catholic Mission like Rev. Father Medber at Akrokeri where he worked as a stew-
ard and a cook for these white Catholic priests. His father had wanted him to be a At the
ST. JOHN'S THE EVANGELIST ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH
linguïst but he refused. He stayed or spent most of his life with these missionary BEKWAI - ASHANTI.
priests until 1938. He joined the Government Railways now Ghana Railways as a
fireman. He resigned from Railways after 9 years in service. Date
SA.TURDAV 19TH - SUNDAY 20TH DECEMBER, 1998
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
In 1946 he left Gold Coast to visir his brother Mr. ].K. Aidoo in Ivory Coast and
worked for compagnie Francie dela cote d'evoire [sic] u.A.c. for 16 years and carne OFFJCIATlNG MINISTERS
back to Ghana and started his present poultry farm. Rev. Fr. Andrews Addai (Parish Priest)
Rev. Fr. Bernard Ampong (Assist. Priest)
In 1975 he won 1st, 2nd & 3rd prices during the Agricultural show. He was Agric
Rev. Fr. Clement Amofa (In Residence} ·
Adviser to Amansie District. A member of Church Committee for 3 years. Presi- Mnsgr. Dr. Patrick Akol
dent 3 times and Harvest Chairman 3 conservative years. Mnsgr. Michael De-·Graft:
He was invited to the Papal Mass during the Pope's visie to Ghana and pre-
MUSIC
sented with a gift ofHoly Rosary from Pope John Paul II. His hobbies were soccer, ST. MARY'S GUILO &. ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST CHOIR
athletics and a good draft player. He left behind ro children and 46 grandchildren.
He has fought a good fight and finished the race and kept the faith. May his soul
rest in Peace.'

'.Jpanin Kwaku Busumbru's biography contains all ingredients fora successful and
exemplary life. First of all his Christian career is emphasised: baptism, communion, JOBIO PRESS · TAKORADI
confirmation, work for white missionaries, holy matrimony and later active involve-
ment and even a leading position in the church. This was crowned with the gift from
the pope. His professional career included a government job, work abroad and, cru-
cially, his return home. After his return he became very successful in farming, and
not only for his own profit, but he put this success to the service to the community A FUNERAL PROGRAMME
 I44 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Church and Death: Christian Burial I45

ORDER 2.E BQRIAL ·Mf1SS ln 1975 he wom 1st, 2nd &. 3rd price5 during the show.
FU N E~ L A RRA ~ G EM E N TS zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
IN'l'lWDVC'l'qJ.O.' Rll'BS BIOGRAPHY OF THE LATE Ag,icut:ura /

l, Pr<icesslnal Soog Heaven ye anigye kuro ' Theophilus Kwaku Busumbra Hf: was Agric AcMse- to Amansle District . A member d Ovuc:h
C.ommUtee for 3 years . Président 3 times and Har;est O\ailrman for
2. Opening ""'9 o God oor help 1n ages .pàst -c.H.274 (Afias Kwaku Pomah) 3 con5efVBt1veyears.
3. l'en i~ J'~ '
4. Ky,je Márlllm l>lass Aged 84 He was ifWlted to the Papal Mms duril'lg the Pope's vlstt ID Ghana and
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Saturda11· 19th ~ [Tlbérfl998 at the St. John .the· · 5.
Open!~. ..,_,
The Theoph\lus '8te l(wafw 8o$umbruwas bom on AUgtJst 19H prese,,t<d - a gift otHoJy Rosal'f rrom PopeJotv, """n.
Evangelist catho11e Chl(!Ch, Bel<wal from s.oo am, .Ll'l'VICGl' dF ria: lt'()J(a otllekwaib:>Màdam0h<neba-~Akos<0-of "" - wen, soo:e,; lthletia and • good <hft "'8'I'<
He lelt behfnd 10 Chlldreri and 46 GrandchllchQ. "1e hllls fought a
to 8.30 a.1)1. ' Okuana fa{n lty, ànd Okyea~ K~ Busumbn.t. K~ a 9e:01or
li\qu tsuo Nana BekwaJ hene . He Wasbaptl:9ed .ln tbe year 90od flQht and nn~ tne 1ace and kef>t the falth.
-, zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA 4th Oclober, 1925 at Alo'Cilceri ~ lnJhè diurch of:Secret
Heart aod hed hls first c.ommun1on at the Ätnechurdl In the year-
May his Soul Rt!St in Pet1c~
1927. IV. thesame ve;,, he has tils o:,ntlrmatJon ,n Junc 6th.
Burial Mass ._ · TillBOTE BY TttE FfiMILY
~m::=i.;·~~=lst~~~~-
very churdl. The wife-lhe maiden name.ofwhlch ~sAküa
To The Late
Theophilus Kwaku Busumbru
- ri~ tioils lro\TI Ayasi e«:wo dan in Adon,e .
(Alias Kwaku Pomah)
He .~ llfe-wlth hlS.fatherwhO was; c:ocoebnJker at~ .
0111 Uncle or, Fathe< or, Nana, why thb caiomlty ,,i, ,.... entlre fàmlly

2.
In the year 1921, He-school, He ieft- 1929"!""'
hls fother was not capa ble ID ,.. hlm been
Amlsano'Semklaly. '
adm-
inln
'·
wtly, why and why ""'9y - - - bu,ying yoo ,~ ~
'"''"'" hom
on you.
l(u""'"
The_., Poly, the - death had ll>')ay h~ lcy handi;
the Poln th111hos-. lnftlctod lntolhelieortsofa.11
3, m<mbeB of the f>mily, the wldow and y<JIJl' chlklr<n ln sd·- ·
Ftom that tiniie. he'1Ned w\'th the val1ous missionarfes·wt,o came
4.
In wori< in the c,thoi~ Mlssion lll<e AeY. fothe- Medbef at Mr. Busumbru, 'Wofa ~ as he was affe::6onatety c-, was.e man ' .
s. Akrokeri whi!re he VfO(ted as a steward and e CXIOk ror these of hógh morollty ..... - CMstian .
~- white cathoHc Prtestes, Hls father· had wanted hfm to be a
Lingulst but he refus<d. He stllyed or spent most of hls IKe Hb O>rlstlan back 9"'Und modo hlm O><hlbited high ....,. ,,, .-.tly.

SUJ\day 2~ ~mber art

zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Thanksqiving Seivièe
the
'\
co~ qi,, JUTE ,,
St. Joh n the evangelist
Cethol'\f Church, ~ iat 9. 30 a.m.
•l.
2.
3.
4.
The l.onf s J)Rller
Slgn of peaa,
Lamln)f God
'·
- -medoici,se
- Martam Mass ,
Communlon songs • 1, ~ hömliro o1'> ho nde
2. Menè nl<wa paanoo
witli tl1ose """'°'>arY Priests unt!l 1938. Heje;ned the --
ment RaOways now Ghana Rallways as a,tnman. He reigned
rrorn Rzitlways atter 9 vears 1n service .
tn 19% he lelt~ Coast to vlsJt hl, brother Mr. J. K. Aidoo iri
lVOty Coast aod ~ for compag nie Fraocle dela C'Otl!!:
d'evoire U. A. c. tor 16 year.; and carne bad( to Ghar'lf and
started hlso,esent"""'"' farm.
-·
He was a con ftsa nt, llO advl ser and a peace makerto nmt people In

By ho dea<h he hos aeoteda ver, big vacuum in the family

~ win be very difflcu lt to fiN .

3. Magy,?n'kwa pa
WOFA DAMRIFA DUE. DUE !!
(j) zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
"~
1-

TRJBUl'E..~
TiUBOTE BY TttE CttlLDïtEN
1. Song - Owu edzl onua IN MEMORY OF
2. Blography Agoodnamelsbe#i,r~rtches - ~7,la,
3. Song - Bom nantsew THE LA.TE
4. Trtbutes/Anwonsem ThJs Is ~the 6iblè'sarys and we tol<e ~ il\ the ~that the
........,JehlN!:d thls goa/1n hl> 1ilê Hme boca..,. he hàd • ~
,f ....,f1.EC14'l"t . ~\\
FT/1/A L COMMENDATION & FARBWELL
heaven hwan na ompe
Ylewof~~-

Nevertheicss, humir°'.;;, we ..-.,.lhe.!llin and shod< is st111 In our hearts ~~- ~~::
Song - Ao
and wèmlss- yoo ~ v,ittl eod,.pM>it)g day. 1/ldeed Y!lO< sudden
depa,t,Jri; has lelt a !lf"'I' ,i>cuCJm lrf our~ v.l,ct, oooè eocept yoo
ltHANKiVJTHY.OUUSs,<J11iROUGflOOT
MUCIJ FOR MOU.RN~G "41
OUR
. 1. Introduction ". canfUI. 1-~IÓ~ -,:-, - .. ·~
2, Spl1nklng & lncensfng the body \ MQMEI!/TS OF GRIEF.
~- Responsing & Prayer Noor heart:s are full of\~ end_ oor f:1/e'S are Med ~,tears, we ~
ll. Ple'Jesu" areena,ur.,gl!d by the fact-Jhat W<e·lhe Apostler.O! ..... hOYe fol>ghr "
5. Farewell the good l!gllt and""'·•~ mee /n yoo, life time. You< 1llil9 llnd
,5. Blessing
7. Processing to cemetary -Y~ yèn nam
~;.,.~~""~·:~~~~
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA wcare~ ,
.G11A1'1f'.S1DB .. . As we ~lil' yoo t,oçame a lrtend and • CO<\,fid<lnt We 51\aU ~
Song ~~~- ~. /isomdwoe mu ~!lla
y1e
:i=.,t".,;..~~~~~~~
Bless ll1g·oftbe
-Inteimen t Grave
,' 1 •.'- ~
..
-• ' • Uiat,iccompo,,Jed
all the goed senshi human i,uU yot/f COIIQ~
- of our 1""5 . As a""'1Selot y6u ~ pooa, anc1··
Genera ( Îhfercesslon andalwayshBd•-dl>f.a,mfor · ·
h C:.Overlng or the G(ilve ·' ) '; "
adylce, ltls ror these r:easctl s uu
US wfth.sudl-a n<>bie ;.s',1'npathet:ic
MÄY THE G00D LO~D
2. L.aytng of wreaths
3, Vote ofThanks
- ... "-"'-':...,... "::"'t,;
,vour S<Jdd\!,l departure hos i-> great lo<S,I<> al espedaliy.,öa,;~
BLESS,AND KEEP'YOU
~, 4. Olsm\sSals ' • ~lklten who you ~ s:o food ot. 'fours nuinetOu5 ftiends you made ALWAYS
5. Song 1. Kwantunl wasl kwan so
2. Melii bun rnu'are
.,.,_ .
yojlr ,te time 'land b:> moum . "1l!1 us. :-.
• Amen!
At thls dlff.:uittt,,è we-0<ea,mfon,,d by the fact - yoo .k. otfl<O(>!
- yoor mà\f!I: and - .. men.
M3y the Atr>iit,,
~
God plaa,you'weil ln ""' - ·
ot the hoty ones. . JOHN S:28 • 29
- "" the

1 tD AGYA .QA YIE

0
146 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
in his role as an agricultural adviser. Last but not least, he got many children and
grandchildren. In the tributes by the family and by the children, emphasis is on the
great vacuum he leaves, his Christian background, his effons in educating his chil-
dren and teaching them Christian moraliry, and his role as a counsellor and peace
maker in settling disputes.
A biography is always an idealised life history, a reconstitution of the person,
mentioning accomplishments that make him or her a successful person (see also
Miescher 1997). The cultural criteria of success and achievement differ for men and
women and relate to socially expected roles (cf. Lawuyi 1991b). In meri's biogra-
phies, emphasis is on success in farming or trading, work for the government or a big
company, setting up a business, (overseas) travel, educating children, and settling
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
disputes. In women's biographies too, success in farming and trading is praised. Fur-
ther, women are praised for their role in caring for her (and sometimes other peo-
ple's) children and her husband, and acting as an advisor for relatives and friends.
For both men and women, Christian life, church accivities and Christian values of
hard work, honesry, alcruism and humility are emphasised.
The construccion of a biography entails not only including certain events or
deeds, buc also omiccing ochers. In Kwaku Busumbru's biography, for example, his
farmer posicion as Ekuonahene (chief of the Ekuona clan, represencing the clan in
the traditional council) was not mentioned. Ic was mentioned on the funeral invica-
cion, however, and people referred to ic in inforrnal conversations. What was
emphasised in his biography on the ocher hand, was his refusal to become a 'lin-
guisc' ,3 what had been his father' s wish, and his choice to stay wirh the missionaries
instead. His traditional office of clan chief might have been found incompatible
with his posicion of church president. Miescher (1994: 510) mentions the case of a
retired Presbyterian pastor who refused to accept an official posicion in his abusua,
because as a farmer pastor he should not 'mingle with heathen praccices'. In Kwaku
Busumbru's case too, his leading roles in both the church and the traditional council
caused a cension, which could not be written down in black and white in his biogra-
phy.' During the ceremony in church, however, an oath-swearing ritual was per-
formed, a public acknowledgement ofhis traditional leading posicion.
Funeral programmes point to the close connection berween Christianity and lit-
eracy in English, buc also to the intertwining of orality and liceracy. In the funeral
booklecs use is made of different literary genres. From Akan oral literature and praise
poetry, phrases as wJfa, damirifa due (uncle, condolences), kwan so kose kose (condo-
lences on the way), odupon kesee atutu (a mighty tree has fallen, an expression used
on the death of a chief) and waye bi ampa (he has really accomplished someching) are
taken. From St. Paul, the phrase 's/he fought the good fight, finished the race and
kept the faich' is used in many biographies. One also encounters Shakespeare's 'Out,
out brief candle, life's but a walking shadow, a poor player chat struts and frets his
hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more' (Macbeth), Horace's 'momentum
more enduring than brass', or texcs like 'Oh! Death, why hast chou rob bed me of my
Church and Death: Christian Burial 147
only possession? Or is it his desciny? However, the LordAlmighty is my only hope in
this midnighc of my age.' Bible quotations are used in abundance. The closing pare
of the tribuce to Agnes Ankobia by her brothers and sisters, read out in church by her
brother and printed in the funeral programme was as follows:
Sister Aggie, fare thee well
Akua Afriye, da yie
Nana Akua, damirifa due
Due ne amanehunu
Onyame nfa wo nsie
Indeed, only the good Lord
Knows what is best
God grant you eternal peace
The Twi phrases in the text may be translaced as: 'Akua Afriye, rest wel!, N ana Akua,
condolences, condolences on this suffering, may God take you and keep you.'
Owusu-Sarpong, in an arcicle on genre in Akan funeral texts (1998), pays atten-
cion to che alteration of genres from traditional praise poetry (apaee) and dirges to
church eulogies. She writes chat this alteration entailed a change of ritual context
(the church) and a code swicching from an orally performed texc to a written text
read out. The interrelation between the funeral dirge and the funeral eulogy con-
cerns the use of praise names, the general tone of the lament, and praising the
deceased's accomplishments. She sees this alteracion of genre as a 'fundamental cul-
tural change: from oral literature to wricten literature, from tradition to rnoderniry'
(ibid: 14). Her argument is inspired by the 'Great Divide' paradigm, which sees a
clear-cut dividing line between orality and liceracy, and between oral cultures and
literate cultures. However, the faccs that the texts are ofcen written in English, buc
performed in Twi, and that other oral performances continue to play an important
role at funerals, indicace that the change may not be so fundamental as Owusu-
Sarpong presents it. Moreover, a Great Divide berween 'oral tradition' and 'written
moderniry' disguises the specific way in which liceracy products such as funeral
programmes are incorporated in local culcural praccice.
Akyeampomaa, a staunch member of the Catholic Church, has a large collection
of funeral programmes, carefully kept in a box together wich other Christian liceracy
products. Although she is illiterate and cannot read the content, she looks at the pic-
cures and keeps chem as a souvenir of the deceased. Of many programmes she has
two copies. She cold me she has ofcen been given a second copy when she did the
announcements of donacions for the family. For her, they were therefore also closely
connected to her own role in the parcicular funeral. When I calked with her about
the booklecs and the funerals, the first things she mentioned abouc each one were the
name of the deceased and the particular church the funeral was held. Sometimes she
asked me to read something for her, especially the names of the officiating ministers
r4 8 Long Live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
and the hymns sang during the service. Apparent!y, the booklets, not so much be-
cause of the content, but because of what \hey represented, were a strong reminder
of the Christian part of the funeral. Printed funeral programmes are not only a trib-
ure to and a memory of the deceased; they are at the same time items of Christianiry.
As I have also shown in the case of newspaper obituaries in the previous chapter,
there is a strong connection between Christianity and literacy.
CATHOLIC PRIEST WAITING AT THE GRAVESIDE
Church and Death: Christian Burial 149
THE CEMETERY
After the burial service all sympathisers join the procession to the cemetery for
burial. Usually the arrangement of the procession is wel! defined. The pastor, the
choir, the church brass band, the societies, all have their place in the double line.
People join the choir in singing hymns and dance to the rhythm. Two mass servants
carrying burning candles usually accompany the pastor or the catechist. The coffin
itself, almost always transported in a car, is somewhere in the middle of the proces-
sion. At the edge of town the car leaves the procession to take the tarred road (the
'highway'), while the people take the small bush road parallel to it. Upon reaching
the cemetery women disperse and stop at other graves of loved ones, wailing, mov-
ing their bodies in grief, and even throwing themselves onto the graves.
At the Bekwai municipal cemetery all churches have their own section where they
bury their members. One small piece of land is for the 'pagans', and nobody wants
to end up there. That section is less wel! maintained and is looked down upon.
Within the plot of the church concerned a grave has been dug and people gather
around it. At the burial of Agnes Ankobiah, I was pushed forward through the
crowd as soon as I arrived and urged to take a picture of the empty grave and the pas-
tor standing beside it. The inside of the grave was coated with whitewashed con-
crete, clearly a status symbol.
The coffin is carried on the shoulders to the grave and lowered into it. People may
cry sofcly and a brass band may play. The 'rites at the graveside' include the blessing
of the grave by sprinkling holy water and waving the censer, prayers, and hymns. The
pastor then casts the first scoop of earth into the grave, the abusuapanin, a brother,
uncle or another male relative the second. The presentation of the wreaths is also a
task for the pastor. He reads out the names and maxims on the ribbons and lays the
wreaths on the coffin. Some people throw leaves or coins into the grave. The coins are
needed to pay the transport fare to the other world and the leaves should protect the
spirit on his way. The abusuapanin then says a short word of thanks to the sym-
pathisers. As soon as people start leaving the wreaths are taken out again. The grave
<liggers immediately start filling up the grave and then put back the wreaths.
The cemetery and the activities that take place there are clearly Christian influ-
enced. In the olden days people were buried at a burial ground at the edge of the vil-
lage or in the house, a practice abolished by the colonial government. KB. Asante
writes in an article entit!ed 'Why not plan your own funeral?':
'Ic may be observed chat wichin living memory, many buried cheir dead in the
house. The colonial government out!awed the praccice. Buc a way was found to
defeat the law. A coffin scuffed wich doch was carried to the cemecery while the
<lead was buried in the house. The government got wind of chis and suspected cof-
fins were opened by sanitary and other auchorised officials. The unpleasant conse-
quences put a stop to the practice' (Daily Graphic August 4, 1997).
ISO Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
When the dead person was buried at the burial ground in the bush, there were no rites
at the graveside and no identification sign "".:as put on the grave. The gravesite was not
a memorial spot. Remembrance was through libation and the ancestral stool was con-
sidered the dwelling place of the spirit of the deceased (Vollbrecht 1978: 308-309).
Under the influence of Christian churches people carne to be buried in a churchyard,
in graves with a tomb, a cross or another memorial sign. Christianity has thus pro-
vided new ways of remembrance, more linked to the individual person. Whereas liba-
tion was directed mainly at the community of family ancestors as a whole, Christian
remembrance is through a grave tomb with a phorograph, written biographies and
memorial services in church. For Christians, burial in the churchyard became a grand
affair, with all mourners marching in procession and the coffin conveyed in a hearse.
Coffins, first introduced by the churches for all Christians, became objects of prestige
and the rich started importing their own coffins from Europe.
T oday still, some people, Christians as wel!, do never visit the grave of a loved
person. Nana for instance never went to her late husband's grave, neither that of her
brother. She doesn't even knowwere exacdy ir is. It will be overgrown with plants by
now, she told me. But for many people, the burial of someone else is an occasion to
visit the graves of relatives, Others combine a visit to the grave with pouring liba-
tion. I went with Daniel, who stays in the Netherlands, to visit the gravesite of his
father at the cemetery in his hometown Kumawu. He poured libation on the grave
(which had been artistically moulded and decorated by his sister) with his father's
favourite drink, imported Lucozade, and informed him that he had got a son whom
he had named after him.
As I mentioned earlier, the tombstone is usually not erected immediately after the
burial, hut one year later. A new ceremony has taken root: the unveiling of the tomb-
stone and the laying of new wreaths as part of the anniversary celebration. Not only
does this ceremony provide the occasion to collectively remember the deceased, it also
highlights the beauty of Christian burial and adds to the grandness of the affair.
THANKSGIVING AND MEMORIAL SERVICE
On the Sunday after the burial a thanksgiving service is held, meant for the bereaved
family to thank the church for having mourned with thern and to thank God for
having taken their beloved into his bosom. A memorial service, meant to remember
the deceased by mentioning his name, may be held later, hut often the two are corn-
bined. All relatives and other mourners dress in white (blue-and-white wax-print)
on chat occasion. Sornetimes the family has bought new 'rhanksgiving cloth' which
all members wear. The deceased is mentioned during prayers or announcements and
the pastor conveys condolences to the family on behalf of the church. Usually the
special attention to the deceased and the bereaved family is not more than that, Dur-
ing the thanksgiving service for George Owusu Agyeman, however, the priest rook
the occasion to preach against the conflict within the royal family (Chapter 3) and
Church and Death: Christian Burial ISI
urged the bereaved family to finally stop quarrelling among themselves and let peace
come to Bekwai.
A striking feature of the thanksgiving service is the so-called 'Kofi ne Ama' offer-
tory. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Ït has become a custom in Catholic, and also in other churches, to have a sec-
ond offertory, called 'Kof and Ama', whereby the church members donate accord-
ing to their day name.' People dance to the fore together with their 'day rnates',
starting with the Sunday-borns, and put some money into the offertory bowl in
front of the altar. The amounts given are immediately counted and announced to
the community, which.applaudes for every group, but mostly for the winners, the
group who gave the highest amount of money. With thanksgiving services it is
common that the whole bereaved family joins the day of the deceased. During the
thanksgiving service of Jpanin Kwaku Busumbru for example, all his relatives
joined the Wednesday-borns, so chat Wednesday easily won the cornpetition and
their donation was announced and received with a thundering applause. The dona-
tion of the bereaved family is meant to thank God for having blessed them with the
deceased's life, but it is of course also a display of money. The spectacle around it
only adds to the show of how much money the family is able and willing to spend
on the church. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Controlling funerals
'Christian burial' is by no means taken for granted; it is a highly contesred category.
In this process of negotiation church leaders have made great efforts to define rules
as to what is Christian and what is not and to control the way funerals are celebrated.
The stance of churches towards funeral celebrations as such is made clear in the
introduction of the leaflet Owuo akyire WzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGF
J nkwa (there is life after death) by the Bible
Society of Ghana, distributed at the burial of the Asantehene:
'êkama aye se wiase mma nyinaa se obi wu a WJJE no ayie de bye no animuonyam. Ne
saa nti yewJ akwan bodoo a yefo. so ye ayie sedes amanee ahodoo no tee. WJn a wJgye di
se onipa wu a ne kra kotena asamando WJ amanee bodoo a WJJJ de pia unn gyidie yi.
Baabi dee uode sika kJkJJ nwinie ne ntoma a no boi ye den na esie oioufo» no. [. . .]
êwom se ayie JJ mu na yekyere yen amanee dee nanso asem biako ua ho a ense se yen
were fire. Ene se ese se yebisa se. So ayie no tumi JJ dec wawu ne kra ho biribie ma esesa
ne nkrabea?'
'It is so that with all children of the world, if someone dies, s/he is glorified wirh a
funeral. And because of that we have various ways to do a funeral according to vari-
ous customs. They who believe that when a person dies, his soul goes to stay in
asamando, have several customs to express this belief. At some places, they use gold
and expensive cloth to bury the dead. [ ... ]. In doing funerals we may show our
152 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
culture, but there is one thing we must not forget. That is that we must ask: Can
the funeral do something about the soul of the deceased to make his destiny change?'
In traditional Akan beliefs the difference berween people extends beyond death and
the kind of funeral determines one's status in asamando. Christian doctrine, as indi-
cated by the rhetorical question, teaches that the destiny of one's soul does not depend
on the rites performed at one's funeral, because in front of God all people are equal
and are judged according to their own deeds on earth. The way funerals are celebrated
in Ghana is a 'cultural thing' (amanes dee), hut for the church it has no theological or
ideological meaning. Funerals are delegated to realm of'custom' and 'culture'.
The process of defining 'Christian burial' entails the negotiation of culture
(amanee), tradition (amammere), and Christianity (Kristosom). Churches thus create
a distinction between what is Christian and what is unchristian or 'heathen'. They
distinguish between what should be done because it is Christian, what practices can
be allowed because they happen to be customary and what should be abolished
because it is considered direcdy opposed to Christian norms. Members of the Evan-
gelical Presbyterian Church, for example, have to sign the following 'burial rites dec-
laration' on their membership certificate (Meyer 1999a: 148):
i. I ( ... ) having acceptedJesus Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour herebyvow
to abstain from all heathen practices and rites in my life time; and that no person
or persons shall in any way undertake any of these on my behalf during sickness.
ii. At my death I want my body to be buried according to the rules and regulations
of the E.P. Church. [ ... ]
iii. After my burial, no person or persons shall perform any heathen practices. [ ... ]
The EPC is not the only church that seeks to control funerals by abolishing certain
practices condemned as 'heathen'. In this section I shall describe some funeral prac-
tices rhat are problematic to Christian churches and are considered unchristian.
WAKE-KEEPINGS
Until very recendy the public wake-keeping preceding burial was an essential part of
every funeral. During my first stay in Ghana in 1995 almost every Friday night there
was a wake-keeping going on in the village. While the body was lying in state, a lot of
people gathered, !oud music went on all night and there was a lot of dancing and
drinking. Ït usually was a very boisterous event. Now, only a few years later, almost
every funeral announcement or obituary starts with the phrase 'no wake-keeping'.
In the seven months I spent in Bekwai I haven't witnessed even one wake-keeping.
The public wake-keeping has generally been replaced by a private in-door wake-
keeping by the close family and the laying-in-state ceremony in the morning. Some
years ago this would have been unthinkable as wake-keepings were considered an
Church and Death: Christian Burial 153
indispensable part of the funeral. Churches have had a major hand in rhis significant
change. The major reason for churches to abolish wake-keepings has been the
unruly nature of it and the drunkenness that often occurred, hut also the high cost
involved in buying drinks and food and hiring music was problematic. Since the
change has not occurred everywhere and people still hold and attend wake-keepings,
it continues to be a topic of attention for churches. A radio announcement on
August 30th 1998 made public that 'the Presbyterian Church of Ghana abolishes
holding or attending wake-keepings for funerals.'
ALCOHOL USE AND UNRULY BEHAVIOUR
At most of the funerals I have attended, at least a few people were drunk. The smell
of alcohol permeates one' s nostrils at almost every funeral celebrarion. Sharing a
drink (nsa) is part and parcel of mourning together. As zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTS
Akyeampong puts it in his
study of the social history of alcohol in Ghana 'drinking at funerals was, at the same
time, an expression of grief and solidarity among the living' (1996: 39). Akpeteshi, a
very cheap local gin made of (illicidy) distilled palm wine or sugar cane juice, is
drunk a lot. Imported and locally brewed 'schnapps', beer and sometimes palm wine
(nsa fofoo) are also consumed. Many people complained about the frequent car acci-
dents on Saturdays resulting from drunkenness.
Churches are direcdy opposed to Akan tradition with regard to alcohol use. For the
Akan, being drunk is a sign of deep grief, of how much you loved the person, of how
much you are affected by the loss. Cornpletely abstaining from drink at the funeral of a
relative would rouse high suspicion among the mourners (ibid.). The more you drink,
the more you show how much you have loved the deceased. So, traditionally, the more
drunkenness, the better the funeral. Moreover, alcohol numbs the feeling of grief.
Akyeampong also stresses the ritual potency of alcohol in transforming the deceased
into a spirit. Throughout the funeral alcohol is used to stay in touch with and bid fare-
well to the deceased. 'In this close contact with the spirit world, nsa is the most potent
symbol and medium of communication' (ibid.). Alcohol is used in pouring libation to
communicate with the ancestors. But also these washing the corpse were, in the olden
days, paid in nsa, drummers were paid in nsa, and the contributions of sympathisers
are called nsa. Vollbrecht too points to the symbolic meaning of nsa, as representing
the sunsum, the spirit. Villagers share nsa 'to unite them to their ancestor whom they
must now approach spiritually' (1978: 325). In Akan tradition thus, alcohol has a very
strong social as well as ritual significance.
Christian churches do not recognise this. For churches, drunkenness is unaccept-
able, uncivilised and does not fit in a modern, civilised Ghana. Akyeampong de-
scribes the conflict chat arose around 1900 between Gold Coast Christians and
chiefs over the ritual use and the meaning of alcohol. The temperance movement,
most explicidy expressed in mission-linked temperance societies, became a symbol
of'social progress' and 'rnodernity' and a means for defying the traditional authority
I54 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
of chiefs. Alcohol became a major, but intricate topic in the definition of''Christian-
iry' against 'paganism'. 'The Christian churches, in the face of Gold Coast cultures,
were struggling to define proper Christia~ life for their congregations, and[ ... ] the
customary celebration of rites of passage[ ] - in which the ritual use of alcohol was
centra! - had to be tackled delicately. [ ] Thus [they] could not agree whether
"ternperance" meant "rnoderation" or "abstinence", and the debates over "total pro-
hibition" and "partial prohibition" carne to characterise discussions on the "liquor
question'" (Akyeampong 1996: 72). So while the Catholic Church, the Basel Mis-
sion and the English Church Mission 'saw norhing wrong with palm wine, comrnu-
nion wine, and beer' (ibid.: 86) and opted for moderation, the Wesleyan (Method-
ist) Mission adopted a stern policy on teetotalism. Many early spiritual churches,
several of which were breakaway sects from Methodism, also advocated a strict tee-
totalism, and some, such as the Memeneda Gyidifa (Sacurday Believers), used water
instead of wine in communion.
As concerns funeral celebrations, ir is especially the disorderliness and uncontrol-
lable sicuations chat consumption of alcohol may cause, and indeed often causes, chat
are problematic to churches. An example of the 'unruly behaviour' chat churches
scrongly disapprove of was the burial of George Baffour described in Chapter 3- By
not keeping rules and behaving oucrageously George's friends, brothers, and sisters ex-
pressed cheir deep sorrow. Within the Asante understanding chat if you have really
loved a deceased person, you show this by losing yourself, alcohol is an effective and
approved means to achieve this. For the churches chere is nothing good about ic. They
are concerned with rules and orderliness. Churches like funerals to proceed smoothly
and peacefully, without any disturbances or extravagancies. The situation should al-
ways be controllable. Church leaders therefore unite to condemn the use of alcohol
and formulate specific laws concerning alcohol use at funerals. Vollbrecht quotes from
a letter by a Catholic pastor sent to the town ofDonyina in November 1973:
'About the funeral celebrations: there is now a strict rule to be observed that no
alcohol (no beer, wine, spirirs or palm wine) is to be served at funeral celebrations of
Cacholic burial. This has been agreed upon by all Christian churches in Kumasi and
surrounding villages, and the Bishops and other Heads of the various churches have
accepted and confirmed this rule. So it is not good fora Christian to accept beer at a
funeral celebration, even ifhe or she <lid not ask for it' (Vollbrechc 1978: 323).
Vollbrecht adds chat 'The next Sacurday there was a non-Christian funeral. The
Cacholics accepted the drinks which were offered to them as chey always had be-
fore. And at Catholic funerals after chat, drinks continued to be served' (ibid.). In
the discussion chat followed, the pastor remarked chat 'Whac people say is chat
maybe they have inviced prominent people to their funeral, and when they come,
you cannot serve chem fanta; you have to give thern important drinks', chus
explaining chat he could not do anything to stop thern (ibid.: 324). Serving and
Church and Death: Christian Burial I55
drinking alcohol, especially beer and imported spirits, the 'white man's drink'
(Jburoni nsa), also has a scrong social significance and is a matter of prestige. This is
underscored by the practice of displaying such boccles, which sometimes contain
even fake drink (see Chapter 4).
In spite of churches' continuous attempts at regulating the use of alcohol at
funerals and the 'unruly behaviour' chat goes with it, alcohol use still seems to be at
the heart of funeral celebracions and drunkenness still causes problems. The scale of
ic, however, seems to have diminished much and for that the churches have had a
great impact. At almost any funeral I have attended, only a few people were drunk
and a lot of people didri't drink any alcohol at all. The face chat churches say chat it is
unchristian to drink at funerals justifies abstinence from alcohol and takes away sus-
picion towards chose who don't drink. Not taking nsa has become a sign ofbeing a
good Christian and for many people this is a big concern. However, beer and streng-
er alcoholics continue to be consumed in large quantities at funerals and thus remain
one of the major topics of concern in the discussion about funerals.
WIDOWHOOD RITES
Another practice ouclawed by Christian churches was the malcreatment of widows
in the rites a widow of a deceased man had to go through before she could take up
normal life again (kunaye). Rattray (1927) describes chat 'the clan, i.e. the blood rela-
tions of their late husband, appear, as customary law would seem to demand, to treat
thern somewhat harshly. They are for the time being, and until they settle down a
new life, just the goods and chattels of the dead man' (Rattray 1927: 171). The gins
she had received from her late husband should be returned to the heir of the man.
During the funeral ceremonies for her husband, a widow was compelled to fase, to
stay inside the house, and to sit or sleep on a mat besides the corpse day and nighc.
She was smeared with red pep per, and made to wear a waist-belt to 'loek her vagina'.
She had to refrain form sexual intercourse for a year, else 'the dead man will come
and sleep with her and cause her either to be harren or to die' (ibid.). For eight days,
she may not bath, not even use a chewing stick (native toothbrush), She had to
remain unclean to prevent the spirit of the dead man from wanting to sleep wich her.
Afrer these eight days she was publicly purified, but remained in a state of widow-
hood fora year, wearing black doch. Afrer chat she may remarry.
Christian churches, emphasising the marriage bond between husband and wife
and respect for all people, strongly condemned the 'barbaric' treatment of widows by
their husband' s abusua after his death. It is mainly under the influence of the churches
chat widowhood rites are no longer generally performed these days. But in spite of
churches' disapproval of any widow rites, many widows do still wear black fora year,
and especially in public places like churches. Churches have to find a balance between
prohibiting and allowing certain practices. This also goes for matters of inheritance, in
which churches also try to mingle. This topic will be taken up in Chapter 6.
I56 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
PAGAN (;HAOS AND CHRISTIAN ORDER
In the early days of the missionary churches in Ghana, many practices accompany-
ing funeral ceremonies, such as pouring libation, praying to the ancestors, slaughter-
ing animals, burying items with the dead, drumming, dancing, drinking, and firing
of musketry were branded 'pagan' and as such abolished. Still, the main rnotives of
churches in funeral debate seem to be suppressing chaos, maintaining orderliness,
and promoting 'civilisation' (anibue, 'opening of the eyes') and 'rnoderniry'. Although
directed at other practices - no Jonger is drumming or dancing condemned - order
remains the concern. Churches' current position vis-à-vis funeral celebrations and
Christians' own ambivalence towards certain practices still echoes the missionaries'
discourse of a strict opposition between 'heathendorn' or 'paganism' and 'Christian-
ity'. Different churches have found different ways of dealing with funeral traditions;
some, like Pentecostal churches, imposing very strict regulations and ethers, like the
Catholic Church, allowing traditional practices even in the church itself
Middleton states that 'the main religious distinction is not between Christianity
and traditional religion, but between 'establishment' and Pentecostalist churches'
(1982: 9). Pentecostal churches have an elaborate ideology concerning sources of evil.
They maintain a strict separation berween good and evil and focus on the fight
against occult, demonie powers in the society, integrated in the concept of the Devil.
They preach a strict moral code to protect oneself against evil. A Christian should
ideally be 'born-again', chat is, delivered from any previous spiritual ties and moral
trespasses and freed from previous social relations, such as the burden of family obli-
gations, to effectuate a complete change in the person's inner self and, consequencly,
in his or her behaviour. The Pentecostal stance towards 'culture' and 'tradition' is
outspokenly negative; all tradition is suspect, because of its potential connection
BEKWAI MUNICIPAL CEMETERY
Church and Death: Christian Burial I57
with demonie or ancestral spirits, with the realms of darkness and chaos. The ex-
tended family, as the embodiment of tradition, is considered problematic and a
major source of evil. Money as well has its clark side, since ic may be achieved by spir-
itual means. This ideology causes great ambivalence towards funeral celebrations as
'traditional' events centred on the extended family. It is impossible to wichdraw from
funeral celebracions in the family altogether, but strict precautions are taken. Alco-
hol is strictly forbidden because of its spiritual connection. No libacion and other
'traditional pracrices' are allowed. And alchough donations are accepted, the money
gifts should be prayed over to free chem from demonie powers (Van Dijk 2000).
Funeral celebrations evoke a continuous dialogue between Christian churches
and doctrine and local cultural practices. For many people, a Christian burial is the
ideal, but at the same time a loc of non-Christian funeral practices are very strong. In
order to define what is a Christian burial, people try to come to terms wich 'culture',
'tradition', and 'Christianity'. All are cacegories creaced in this process of negotia-
tion. At funerals there is a constant tension berween order and disorder, between
order keepers and unruly (drunken) people, between civilisation and chaos. It is in
the tension becween 'pagan disorder' and 'Christian order' that funerals are fought
out. A 'beautiful' church burial is a source of prestige, but this 'Christian beauty' at
the same time always has its limits.
The negotiation of Christian burial entails a Christian notion of personhood and the
construction of memory. This is a particular kind of memory, much more linked to
the individual person and his own deeds than to group identities of family and home-
town. In Christian doctrine the type of funeral performed cannot change the destiny
of the deceased's spirit. A person's selection for either heaven or heli entirely depends
on his/her own individual actions, decisions and moral life. Practices which within
Akan conceptions of personhood are necessary to safeguard the deceased's arrival and
good position in asamando, like keeping a public wake, putting items into the coffin,
or using alcohol to communicate wich the ancestors all emphasise that the deceased is
part of a community which stretches over both the earthly and the spirit world. For
Christian churches, stressing a person's individuality and personal accountability
before God, such practices have no cosmological meaning and may be categorised
under the term 'traditiori' and rejected as dangerous or accepced as 'African culture'.
Christianiry has instead provided new 'instruments' for the remembrance of the in-
dividual person: written biographies, eulogies and prayers in church, grave tombs
identified with names and pictures. In consonance with the Asante notion chat one's
funeral does influence one's destiny after death, local Christians themselves have come
to see Christian burial with its specific objects and practices as a ticket to heaven. Cer-
tain mortuary practices that come under 'tradition' become highly ambiguous as they
could impede acceptance into heaven. At the same time, many of those practices are
still prevailing among Christians. Christian burial, then, entails constant manoeu-
vring between Christianity and Asante traditional practice.

CHAPTER zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
6 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
of all Asante, who occupies
State and Death:
Funeral Regulation
At a certain funeral I attended in Bekwai, a man sitting in front of me was reading a
statement issued by the Asante Region House of Chiefs in the regional newspaper zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The PioneerofFriday September mh 1998. When he finished, he gave it to me and
expressed his approval. What we read in The Pioneer is a very detailed regulation
concerning all stages of a funeral by the traditional authority on a regional (Asante)
level. Apparently, funerals are a matter of public concern to such an extent that the
state, in this case the traditional Asante state in the person of the Asantehene and the
lower chiefs, considers it necessary to minutely prescribe the way people bury and
mourn rheir dead relatives.
Both the national and the traditional state are involved in funerals in rwo ways.
They make rules regulating mortuary practices and they organise big funerals for
prominent people themselves. In this chapter I shall discuss the role of the state,
both the traditional Asante state and the national Ghanaian state, in shaping funer-
als and show how this is related toa wider de bate on and negotiation of' culture'. To
put current funeral regulation in its historica! context, I shall first describe the devel-
opment of the Asante state in relation to the colonial and later the national state.
Historica! background
Two STATE$ IN ASANTE HISTORY
The Asante politica! structure is characterised by a centralised authority of kings
(ahenfo:;) and queen-rnothers (ahemmaa), who derive their authority from the ances-
tral stool they occupy. It is firrnly rooted in the kinship system and family ancestry,
since every stool and its office of authoriry belongs to a particular abusua, from
which the stool occupant is chosen. The elaborate policical order is organised on the
basis of military formation. At the local level a town or village is ruled by a chief
(:;hene or odekuro), assisted by a council of sub-chiefs and elders and by a queen-
mother. He is accountable for his rule to the higher authority of the king of the 'ter-
ritoria! division' (:;man), the imanhene or 'pararnount chief'. Ultimately, all aman-
hene owe allegiance to the Asantehene at the top of the pyramidal hierarchy, the king
State and Death: Funeral Regul.ation 159
the Golden Stool. Despite a period of colonial mie and
the formation of a national state after independence in 1957, the Asanre state still
exists, alrhough modified and limited in its formal politica! power, as an integral
part of the Republic of Ghana. Let me give a brief historica! account of the erner-
gence of the Asance state.
Asante oral tradicion has it that the various Asante clan ancestors carne from a
hole in the ground near to Asantemanso a very long time ago. Written history
teaches that the Asante migrated from the northern savannah area to the southern
forest area in present-day Ghana in the fifteenth century. There they established set-
tlements chat developed into small 'city-states' and extended their power through
warfare against enemies of other tribes. In the course of the sixteenth and seven-
teenth centuries, Asante society slowly cryscallised in its historie form. At that time
Asante was not a unified state, but consisted of many different, independent 'na-
tions' (aman, sing. omanï, each headed by an own king, imanhene, and fighting for
cheir own policical power and wealch.
The crucial moment in the Asante state's formation occurred at the end of the
seventeenth century. Wars against powerful enemies of Denkyira and Dormaa
posed the need to unify and to join forces. Ït were the king of Kwaman-Kurnasi,
Osei Tutu I, and his priest and politica! adviser Jbmfo Amkye, who rationalised
and restructured offices of authority in the Asante hierarchy and tried to bring all
under the leadership of one ruler. The battle of Feyiase in 1701, when the Asante
army under the command of Osei Tutu defeated the rival Akan power of Denkyira
and thus freed Asante from Denkyira rule, is commonly regarded by historians as
the beginning of the Asante state (McCaskie 199s: 2; Rattray 1929; Wilks 1975: m).
However, more than this important victory was needed in order to achieve politica!
unity and that was the appearance (or creation) of the powerful symbol of the
Golden Stool. In Asante oral history and local historiography, it is this event that
marks the birth of the Asante state (McCaskie 1995: 127; Wilks 1975: 112).
On a certain Friday, Jbmfo Anokye called a meeting of all kings and elders and
promised a supernatural stool to be sent by the ancestors to indicate whom of them
they had chosen to be the supreme king of Asante. During the meeting Jbmfo
Amkye got possessed and a golden stool descended from the sky and landed on the
lap of Osei Tutu and all accepted him as the supreme king, chosen by the ancestors,
of the unified Asante kingdom. With a ritual whereby every king provided a piece of
hair and some nail parings to be smeared on the Golden Stool, they all spiritually
connected their identity to the common interest. Osei Tutu was enstooled as the first
Asantehene and since then the Asante state is unified under one ruler and Asika Dwa
Kofi (Friday's Golden Stool) is the spiritual symbol of the Asante soul and uniry. It
ideologically validated the ultimate state power in the new politica! order. 'The
power of the Golden Stool's historica! competence derived entirely from belief in its
supernatural origin, and from its identiry as the embodiment and repository of the
collective sunsum (essence, spirit, 'soul') of theAsante people' (McCaskie 1995: 127).
160 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA State and Death: Funeral Regulation 161

Regulations Governing Funeral Celebrations Within Asanteman zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

(e) Adosoa: This customary praccice in its (ii) Ic was observed chat the one week cel-
simplesc form is recommended. To stop ern- ebration is one of the major contribucing
The debate on expensive funeral celebra- keeping during funerals be abolished excepc barrassing sympathisers, the Adosoahemaa or factors to the high cost of funeral expenses.
tions has of late attracted public discussion. for Chiefs and Queen-mothers. her dancers must not be permitted to pene- Therefore no drinks must not be served nei-
The following is a statement issued by the (e) gying-ln-State: trate the crowd and sit on the Japs of the ther should there be any drumming. The
Ashanti Region House of Chiefs on a deci- Laying-in-Srate for one day is generally former. celebracion must as much as possible be held
sion taken by the Asanteman. abolished. However the corpse can be laid in (f) Drumming/Band: indoors.
Please Read On: state from dawn to mid-morning before (i) Bands and drumming groups should (b) Fortieth lliy Celebration: The sig-
Ata meeting of the Ashanti Region House burial. Chiefs and Queen-rnothers should not exceed rwo at any funeral. However, nificance of this celebracion is for the be-
of Chiefs, presided over by Orurnfuo Opoku be laid in state for not more rhan one day. Chiefs attending a funeral with their Kere reaved family to elect someone to inherit the
Ware 11, Asantehene, ar the Manhyia Palace, (f) Coffm: With regard to the provision (only Chiefs are allowed to use Kere) or any deceased person. The celebracion of the for-
on Tuesday md june 1998, it was unanirnous- of coffins, the cost should not exceed drumming group is allowed and would noc ciech day of the death is customary and must
ly resolved to adopt the underrnentioned ct500,ooo.oo; and it should not be displayed count among the approved rwo groups for the be celebrated. However, che celebration
regularions for funeral celebrations within openly, it must be covered wich Kente or parcicular funeral. must be limited to the deceased family and
Asanteman. any decent doch, which should be removed (ii) Cash in lieu of drink be given to per- relations and chat no drinks shall be served.
(r) Preparation Towards Funeral and recurned home afcer the burial. forming groups. Only drumming will be permitted.
Celebration: (g) Burial: When necessary, ic is custorn- (iii) Ic must be noted chat due to ics violent (c) ~ lliy Celebration: Eighti-
(a) Announcement sf zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
deaths: ary chat the corpse be buried with items like nature, the "Soroku" dance is abolished. eth day celebration must be discontinued.
The usual mode of announcements i.e. a piece of doch, ring, handkerchief and a (g) Funeral Cloches: In consonance wich (d) Celebration of One Year Anniver-
through the print and electronic media small amount referred to as "adesiedie". In Asante Custorn, the traditional mourning ~ Ir is customary co celebrate the one
should continue. It has been decided thar an chat case, the following arrangements should doch of 'Kuntunkuni', 'Kobene' and 'Brisi' year anniversary, however, ic should be lim-
amount of ct:500.00 in lieu of drinks must ac- be observed. Chiefs and Queen-mothers: a must be used at funerals. The habic of corn- ited to the deceased family and relations and
company funeral announcements made co piece of doch not exceeding six yards and pelling bereaved farnily members to buy spe- chat no drumming and drinks should be
Chiefs and Queen-rnothers. one "predwan". Non Chiefs: a piece of doch cial doch of any kind must stop at once. In allowed.
(b) Keeping of Cozyse in Mortuary~ not exceeding four yards and half "pred- case of "Soduo" bereaved parencs must wear (e) Memorial Service: Memorial Ser-
Ic was found chat one of the major causes wan". Bathing arcides should not be shown white doch. vices should be performed at the one year
of expensive funerals is the mortuary ex- in public and expensive tiling of graves (3) Religious Services: anniversary only.
penses. Even though keeping the corpse in the should also be discouraged. (a) Post Burial Thanks: The practice of (5) Sanctions:
morcuary is not customary, ic was however de- (2) Funeral Rites: bereaved farnily cravelling excensively to ex- lt shall be an offence for any person co in-
cided chat a corpse must not be kept in the Ic is acknowledged and appreciated chat press their gracicude to sympathisers should fringe the foregoing cuscomary laws. In case
rnortuary for more rhan four weeks for ordi- performance of obsequies of a deceased per- discontinue. If the Asantehene or his repre- of infringemenc, the family head (Abu-
nary people whilsr Chiefs and Queen-rnothers son is customary and imperative as follows: sentative atcends a funeral, expression of graci- suapanin) shall be held liable and dealt with.
should not be beyond six weeks. (a) Duration Qf Funeral: All funerals cude should be clone at che Manhyia Palace. The Chief of the communiry where the fu-
( c) Decoration of Cozyse: The practice of should nor last for more chan rwo days. (b) Burial Service/Thanksgiving Service: neral may take place would also be cusrorn-
(b) Neither drinks nor food should be Burial and thanksgiving services should be arily held liable alongside the Abusuapanin.
deco rating a corpse gorgeouslywith expensive
materials is abolished. It was decided chat served at any stage of a funeral. combined and performed the same day on the Anyone who wicnesses a breach of the new
(c) Donations !Q bereaved farnily: burial day. cuscomary practices ouclined above, can in-
panelling rooms in which the corpse is laid in
state must be stopped. Much as the House Donations by individuals at any funeral (4) Anniversary Celebrations: voke the great Oath in order co hail the
appreciates the involvement of private under- shall noc exceed ct50,ooo.oo. The pracrice of One Week Celebration: breach and initiate customary proceedings
takers, it was agreed chat where an underraker announcing donacions to general public (i) One Week Celebration is found to be against the offenders.
provides his/her own materials for the decora- through public address system must be in consonance with Asance cuscom and must
tion, she or he should nor be paid more than stopped. Ic must be emphasised, however, be so observed. The significance of this cel- Footnote: 1 "predwan" is equivalent to zyxwvutsrq
ezoo.ooo.oo. In the case of an undertaker nor chat donations shall be made known to the ebration is to remember the deceased and also et 2,000.00.
providing his/her own macerials, the expenses bereaved family only. afford che bereaved family che opporcuniry co
should not exceed croo.ooo.oo. (d) Funeral Articles (adekyeredie): The plan and prepare for the funeral rites of their Issued by: The Ashanti Region House ofChiefi.
(d) Wake-keepmg. The House wake- praccise whereby a train of items hired ac ex- relation. However such celebrations should
keeping to be vecy expensive and energy sap- orbitant fees and displayed at funeral is be very simple.
[Source: The Pioneer, September n, 1980]
ping. It has cherefore been decided chat wake- abolished.
r62 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Thereafter, as a result of effective war strategies, political, economical and cul-
rural achievements, the Asante kingdom developed inro a complex, well-organised
and powerful state, conrrolling most of what is now Ghana.' In the nineteenth cen-
tury the Asante kingdom reached its greatest peak and was feared and respected by
neighbouring tribes as well as by European coastal traders. Throughout the nine-
teenth century relations berween the Asante and the British deteriorated. While the
Asante were inrent on preserving the integriry of their large empire, neighbouring
tribes, some ofwhich were triburaries to Asante, sided with the British in an effort to
escape from Asante dominance. By defeating the Asante in the war of 1874 the Brit-
ish destroyedAsante as a military power and its empire began to break up. With the
last revolt against the British in 1900, the Yaa Asantewaa war,' Asante definitively
lost its independence and became part of the British colony of the Gold Coast.
The period of colonial rule saw the coexistence of traditional aurhoriry and colo-
nial authority. With the British colonial policy of'Indirect Rule" Asante chieftaincy
was given a place within the colonial political system, Through policies like the
'Native Jurisdiction Ordinance' of 1874 and later the 'Native Administration Ordi-
nance' of 1927 (see for example Crowder 1968), the government made use of the
local power and respect of chiefs. They could be chiefs already in power, but often
the British installed new chiefs who, they thought, would be favourable to rheir rule.
Often chiefs were appointed who could, by the traditional rules of succession, never
occupy the stool in question and many already reigning chiefs ended up in the para-
doxical position of a respected leader as an ally of the colonial oppressor. By the
'Native Jurisdiction Ordinance' the chiefs were enabled to enact bye-laws and to
form 'Native Tribunals' to try breaches ofbye-laws and judge civil and minor crirni-
nal cases and cases involving 'superstitieus beliefs'.
In post-colonial Ghana there has always been a tension berween the traditional
Asante state and the national government. After independence in 1957, the first
president of the Republic of Ghana, Kwame Nkrumah, seriously restricted the
power of chiefs in his effort to form a national state and to reduce the power and
influence of Asante in the country's polities (Kantinka 1999: 9). The idea was that
they would only impede progress if rhey were to receive their old privileges and
power. The long ruling president Jerry Rawlings (who was in power until the De-
cember 2000 elections) has involved traditional miers more in governing, but with-
out giving them formal political power. At the local or district level Traditional
Councils co-operate with town or district assemblies. All 'traditional areas' in Asante
are represenred in the Ashanti Regional House of Chiefs, which is presided over by
the Asantehene. The National House of Chiefs, in which the chiefs of all regions of
Ghana are represented, functions at the national level of the government.
Ghana's national constitution guarantees chieftaincy as a tirne-honoured institu-
tion with its values, practices and rraditions (Chieftancy Act). In return traditional
miers have had to cede political power to the elected government. This is in line
with the governmenr's policy of preserving Ghana's cultural heritage (see below for
State and Death: Funeraf Reguûztion r63
further elaboration). Not only is the chieftaincy institution itself regarded as part of
this 'heritage' (rather than as a political institution), chiefs are also expected to play a
main role in the task ofkeeping 'traditional culture' alive through festivals, durbars
and other culrural activities. To underline this policy, president Rawlings repeatedly
appears at traditional Asante festivals dressed in an elaborate kente cloth. Traditional
authoriry is taken seriously, but only partially. Chiefs have no formal legislative
power. For the chiefs, then, this means they have to work within the framework of
the ruling governrnent's policies and to co-operate with subsequenr 'governments of
different shades and orientations without either falling under the dominance of any
of these regimes or generating confrontation with any of thern' (Kanrinka 1999: 9).
During his 29 years reign the late Asanrehene Otumfuo Opoku Ware II zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgf
has dealt
with eight different governments, some military and some constitutional, As the
guardian of peace and unity in Asante, he has never aligned himself to any polirical
party and advised ether chiefs 'not to allow partisan polities to break the uniry which
their forebears fought for and secured for the Asantes' (Daily Graphic March 24,
1999: 2). The problem however is a longstanding political tension berween the Asante
region, a stronghold of the opposition party NPP, and the government in Accra.
Opoku Ware has been accused by some ofhis subjects of'close collaboration' with
the PNDC and its successor regime of NDC of Rawlings ( Chronicle March 1, 1999),
which are perceived as anti-Asante, Yet others have praised him for his imparrialiry,
his true allegiance to his people, the promotion of the chieftaincy institution in
Ghana and the (foreign) enhancement of the 'rich Asanre Cultural Values' (Daily
Graphic March 24, 1999). According toa report by the Washington Post, 'the king
has gained a reputation as mainraining the delicate and peaceful relationship be-
rween the central government and the Ashantis, who had conrrolled a 19th-cenrury
warrior empire' (Pioneer March 19, 1999). Yet despite co-operation this relationship
berween the leaders of the historically powerful Asante state and those of the post-
colonial Ghanaian state remains tense and is treated warily by borh sides.
In the field of tension between the traditional power of the chiefs and kings and
the political power of the national state a debate is going on about the place of chief-
taincy in modern Ghana. Some say that a traditional institution based on blood suc-
cession does only impede the progress of the country. Others argue that develop-
menr can only be successful if the indigenous leadership is taken into account.
Chiefs themselves are very much concerned with modernising the institution and
adapting it to serve the nation. As part ofhis 'modernisation mission' (Daily Graphic
March 24, 1999), Oturnfuo Opoku Ware II has created a new chieftaincy office of
nkosoohene, chief of development, to join the government in its responsibility for the
development of the country. Although chiefs don't have any formal political power,
their authority is still much respected by many people, especially on a local level,
because it is so closely connected to kinship. As one of my informants put it: 'not
respecting the chief and elders of your town is not respecting your own ancestors,
not respecting your own blood. The people of the government, they are like stran-
I64 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
gers who may come from anywhere, but the chiefs and the elders, they are your own
people. That is the difference.'
Colonial rule has left a legacy of a multiple legal system comprising both custorn-
ary law and constitutional law. The constitutional law is modelled more or less after
'British law', as it was implemented by the colonial government. But also 'custornary
law' has been described as a 'product of colonial creation, representing a system chat
colonial administrators used to unify legal practices' (Mikell 1996: 241). By the 1927
Native Aurhoriry Ordinance 'the [paramount chiefs] council received the right to
decide - subject to sanction by the Governor - what constituted customary law'
(Miescher 199T 561). Today still, Traditional Councils and Regional Houses of
Chiefs, as we shall see in the case of funeral legislation, keep on adapting and modi-
fying customary law. What is 'custornary' remains subject to negotiation and
reinvention.
fUNERAL REGULATION UNDER COLONIAL RULE
Funerals have since long been a topic of much discussion and regulation. The colo-
nial government's main concern in mingling in customary mortuary practices was
the protection oflife and property and the promotion of orderliness and civilisation.
An example is the prohibition of the afonsoa custom, the practice of 'carrying the
corpse' to find the witch responsible for the death. In 1918 an 'Order of Suppression
of the "afunsoa" Custorn' was enacted by the Chief Commissioner of Ashanti.' A
preceding hand-written comment to the Chief Commissioner states:
'I remember "Afunsoa" was an old custom of Ashanti by carrying a dead body
around a town or village for the dead body to point out a wicch or wizard chat
caused the death. This custom was causing harm to life and properry and you
stopped its spread. lts prohibition cannot be traced in theAshanti Ordinances, but
I remember the damage the custom was causing and you stopping its spread.'
Rattray (1927) devotes a chapter to 'carrying the corpse' and presents the records of a
court case against a man accused ofbeing concerned in afonsoa, 'which is forbidden
by the English law.' Rattray adds chat 'the evidence which was given to the court on
this occasion was remarkable. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
It seemed to point to the fact that the persons con-
cerned, who appeared to have had every motive not to incriminate the accused, were
not entirely free agents. [ ... ] the tradition of centuries was so firmly installed in the
head of the accused man, that he seemed to have forgotten that he had only to appeal
to the nearest European court to find redress' (ibid.: 167). The accounts of several
men who, against their own will and power, carried the body to point out a certain
man, who shot himself after being accused of witchcraft, reveals a tension between
local belief in supernatural forces and ways of dealing with them and English law,
which regards witchcraft as mere superstition. Something that did not exist could
State and Death: Funeral Regulation I65
not be dealt with under the law. It was rather witchcraft accusations and witch find-
ing practices themselves that were regarded as criminal acts. So whereas in local prac-
tice the supposed witch was guilry (of a death or other misfortune), for English law
the accuser should be punished.'
Manuh (1995) traces the preoccupation of authoriries with the way in which
funerals are celebrated back to the beginning of last century. The introduction of
cocoa production at the turn of the century opened new ways to the acquisition of
wealth and access to cash. This new wealth was paralleled by an increase in funeral
expenses, as a result of changes in the scale and quality of funeral celebrations.
Funerals then became a subject of official concern of both traditional and colonial
authorities.
The first regulation concerned with funeral expenditure I found dates from 1929,
'The Berekum Division Regulation of F uneral Customs Bye-Laws, 1929'. 6 The same
bye-laws were also passed for other divisions in Asante and were made by the colo-
nial state in co-operation with traditional miers. The Regulation of Funeral Cus-
toms Bye-Laws included the following clauses. Under 'funeral custorn divided into
classes' four classes of persons are specified, namely paramount chiefs, divisional
chiefs, other persons, and labourers. U nder 'expendirure on funeral customs limited'
then, the amount of the total expenditure on a funeral, excluding the cost of a coffin,
is specified for each class of people. The clause 'expenditure on spirits limired' states
chat the expenditure on (imported) spirits consumed by persons taking part in the
celebrarion shall not exceed one third of the total expenditure. Finally, under 'duties
ofhead of deceased's family' it is mentioned that it is the responsibiliry of the head of
the family to see chat the prescribed expenditure is not exceeded. A written account
of expenditure is to be kept and produced for inspection by the chief. The 'offence'
is specified as a fine not exceeding f25 or imprisonment not exceeding three months,
with or without hard labour. The bye-laws are thus directed at both the curcailment
of costs and of the consumption of (imporred) alcohol.
Documents preceding the passing of the laws, especially the correspondence be-
tween different colonial officials, give us some insight into the process of negotiation
between colonial authorities and traditional authorities. In a letter to the Colonial
Secretary dared 14th May 1928, the Chief Commissioner of Ashanti writes: 'I have
been approached by several Head Chiefs in Ashanti, for the necessity of introducing
Bye Laws for the purpose of regulating expenditure on funeral customs. [ ... ] The
introduction of such bye-laws will naturally be the means of reducing the present
large consumption of Gin besides curtailing the heavy expenditure which take place
at all funeral customs.' The face chat the laws were a definite suggestion made by
chiefs thernselves, was a strong argument in favour of the laws. However, there was
no agreement among colonial officials on the topic of funeral regulation. This
becomes clear from a reaction of the Commissioner Western Province Ashanti on
proposed funeral bye-laws, dated 28th November 1928: 'Regarding the amounts
which may be expended on spirituous liquor at a custom, I subrnir chat the sums
166 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
rnentioned are far beneath the actual amounts which are spent. [ ... ] For the custom
of people other than chiefs, the money expended is only limired a) by the estate of
the deceased or b) by the wealth of the d~ceased's family. To spend less than that
would be an insult to the dead. A point which must not be forgotten when legisla-
tion is underraken for a people where the worship of ancestors is a great part ofthe
religion. [ ... ] Frankly Ido not think that the sums mentioned would be accepted or
that the experiment would meet wirh success.'
Also the chiefs concerned differed much in opinion, as reported by a Provincial
Commissioner: 'The omanhene of Adansi is strongly in favour of the draft bye-laws.
The amahin and state councils of Offinso, Ejisu, Agona have agreed and signed the
draft bye-laws to signify their approval. The Kumasihene is strongly in favour of
controlling the amount drunk at funeral customs, but wishes to wait fora year until
he has performed the funeral custom for his people who died in the Seychelles before
putting this question before his chiefs. The Oman Council of Agona has suggested
an amendment to the bye-laws. On the other hand, the District Commissioner re-
ports that his amanhin are very much against any such bye-laws and are not prepared
to pass thern for their divisions.' As appears from another document, the proposed
amendment concerned the insertion of the words 'excluding the cost of a coffin,'
because the amounts prescribed 'would not cover the cost of a coffin alone.' As we
have seen above, the amendment was accepted. Shortly before the 'The Berekum
Division Regulation ofFuneral Customs Bye-Laws, 1929' were signed by the tradi-
tional authorities, the Provincial Commissioner wrote in a letter to the Chief Corn-
missioner of Ashanti that 'I have instructed the District Commissioners to institute
intensive propaganda, but [ ... ] I fear Berekum will not pass the laws.' However, the
paramount chief, divisional chiefs, sub-chiefs, headmen and other councillors of
Berekum 'signed' or marked the laws 'after it has been read over and explained to
thern in the Akan language by [ ... ) and rhey seemed perfectly to understand its
import.' The same bye-laws were also passed in other Asante districts.
In the course of time, funeral celebrations seemed to ask for more curtailment by
7
authorities, 'The Akyem Abuakwa Funeral Custom Bye-Laws, 1942' ,zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
for example,
were stricter and more elaborate than these of 1929. The clauses included the follow-
ing. 'No funeral custorn shall be performed or observed for longer than one day.'
'No commemorative funeral custom observable on the eighth day of death shall last
longer than one day.' 'The commemorative funeral customs observable on the forti-
eth and the anniversary day, and entailing expenses, are hereby prohibited.' 'The
purchase or use of any imported intoxicating drink at a funeral is here by prohibited.'
'No group of persons shall go outside the town or village where the death or funeral
took place to render thanks to friends or sympathisers.' The number of classes of
funerals has increased to 22, with the amounts to be spent ranging from f6 for 'un-
classified persons' to f500 for a paramount chief.
Arhin (1994: 313) states that when the Ashanti Confederacy Council and the
Kumasi Traditional Council proposed regulations on the performance of funeral
State and Death: Funeral Regulation 167
rites in the late forries and fifties, they were concerned with 1) maintaining the old
distinction in quality and scale among funeral rites for grades of chiefs, chiefs, and
commoners, and members of royal lineages; 2) curtailing the rising costs of funeral
rites; 3) abolishing 'barbarous' practices connected with widowhood and the custom
of distinguishing berween matrikin and spouses in matter of payrnents for funeral
expenses. Similar concerns seem to have motivated the 'Conrrol of Funeral Cost
Ordinance' passed by the Local Council ofMampong-Ashanti in 1952:'
'In view of the rising costs and the dangers experienced in present day funeral cus-
toms of this State and the country in genera!, thus entangling and dwindling the
economie standard of this State, the Mampong Local Council in session as at 29th
ofMay, 1952, representing all shades of opinion in this State, vehemendy protests
the squalor underlying the principles of the said funeral expenses and deerns it
expedient to effect an Ordinance controlling the huge casts of Funerals.
(1) That in the event of death of eirher a male or female, the period for the perfor-
mance of the funeral rites for this state shall be 3 days and that the 4th day shall
be devoted to fasting by the bereaved family which consists of the in-laws and/ or
widows.
(2) That no drinks shall have to be used towards a funeral ether than beverages,
beer and palm wine.
(3) That donations shall be paid at 21- per male and 1/- per female.
(4) That "in-laws and widows" shall be submerged into the bereaved family as part
of the family and shall share proporrionately with the family, the remaining
funeral expenses incurred chereof.
(5) Thac in failure to comply by any citizen or stranger resident in this state who
occasions a loss to a husband, wife, child, mother, facher, aunt, or uncle of the
above regulations (who receives or donates) shall be subject toa fine not exceeding
fa5 or two months imprisonment, hard labour or both.'
Also after independence, traditional authorities tried to control funerals, without
much effect however. 'In the 1970s the Kumasi Traditional Council again proposed
regulations aimed at controlling expenditure on funeral rites. The proposals were
not implemented. They attracted neither legal nor popular support' (Arhin 1994:
313). Arhin adds the full text of the Kumasi State Council Proposed Regulations on
Funerals as an appendix to his article.9 This document describes and abolishes any
widowhood rites as 'crue! and barbaric' and the practice of adosua kyekyereas 'primi-
tive', curtails the period of mourning and fasts, lays down all kinds of transactions in
money and drink on the occasion of the death of chiefs, and limits the donations
that could be made to commoners.
Throughout the history of funeral regulation emphasis has been on the currail-
ment of the use of (imported) alcoholic drink. In his illuminating study of the social
history of alcohol in Ghana, Akyeampong (1996) describes how from the end of the
I68 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
19th century liquor legislation became a sphere for negotiating relations of power. In
their struggle against the increasing power of 'young men' (nkwankwaa),'zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
0
chiefs
sought to ensure their own access to liquor for ritual and social purposes, but at the
same time prohibit cheap brands of imported liquor popular among young men.
This dashed wich the colonial government's interest in liquor revenues. Chiefs then
sought the missionaries as allies against the young men and drink. Victorian, mission-
linked temperance societies carne to be associaced with progress and social mobility
(see also Chapter 5). Significantly, the first one was formed in 1862 by a man who
later became a paramount chief, King Ghartey ofWinneba. He manipulated aspects
of Western civilisation to the service of temperance and the maintenance of tradi-
tional authoriry. The young men on the other hand, incorporated the temperance
movement, which was linked to Christian missions chat opposed indigenous reli-
gion and culture, as a tool in their political struggle with chiefs and elders. As Indi-
rect Rule in the Gold Coast solidified, the colonial government recognised the need
to support the chiefs' social control. From 1928 restrictive liquor policies were en-
acted. As we have seen, rescrictions on imported drink were a major issue in the
funeral bye-laws made by chiefs in co-operation wich the colonial government from
chat time onwards. I will show chat at present, funeral regulation is still an arena for
the struggle over power between different authorities. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Controlling funerals in contemporary Ghana
PRESENT-DAY CHIEFS AND FUNERAL REGULATION
In spite of the long history of funeral regulation by chiefs, funerals still seem to
escape the boundaries chat have been imposed. At the time of my stay in Bekwai
funerals were again a topic of much concern for authorities. During one of my visies
to the kuntirehene of Bekwai, N ana Asiedu II, we had a conversation on the funeral
bye-laws recencly implemented by the Bekwai Traditional Council. Commenting
on the reasons for the funeral bye-laws, Nana Asiedu said: 'the cost of funerals was
very high and as a result many families got into deep financial problems. They did
not have money to pay for the education of cheir children. Since people prefer to
educate their sons, it were especially the gids who suffered and were restricted from
going to school. The social consequences of chat are very bad. Moreover, people
also did not have money to pay for proper health care in case of sickness. Wich this
lack of funds, they continued to organise big funerals. It affected the social and eco-
nomie welfare of the people. So chat is why we have made these laws, to improve
chat situacion.'
He gave a few examples ofBekwai funeral laws intended at curtailing the cost. Ic zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
is no Jonger perrnitted to make video coverages, unless the family members abroad,
who requested for it, pay for it. Hiring of expensive awisiado necklaces to show chat
State and Death: Funeral Regulation I69
you are bereaved is abolished. 'These necklaces cost <1:50,000 for a few hours, hut
everybody knows chat you are bereaved, so there is no need to show ic with a neck-
lace.' The praccice ofbuying a new sponge, towel and other baching articles to bath
the corpse is from now on forbidden. 'S/he had such items when s/he was alive, so
they should use chat.' No drinks may be served to the funeral guests at any stage and
the purchase and presentation of schnapps, drinks, doch and all kinds of goods is
also prohibited, as is the practice ofbuying new doch for thanksgiving for the whole
family, because 'any white doch will do.' Besides economie concerns, also public
health is a focal point. Wake-keepings are abolished, because they caused 'physical
weakness and bodily disorder. The body needs rest at nighc. When you stay awake
all nighc long it may cause health problems, especially when a lot of alcohol is taken.'
N ana Asiedu is pro ud of the new rules and of the face chat the initiative has been
taken over by other traditional councils as well. 'We [the Bekwai Traditional Coun-
cil] started with these funeral bye-laws about three years ago. I sent my list oflaws to
all traditional councils in area and they followed our example. Now the Asantehene
has also formed a committee to make funeral bye-laws.' Interestingly, he presents it
as something new and initiated by the Bekwai Traditional Council, hut it is, as I
have shown, a much older concern with a long history. When I asked him what was
the difference between these new rules and the earlier efforts to regulate funerals, he
said chat 'before chiefs may have made rules, hut failed to obey them themselves.
Thus the people did also not take it serious. Now when one of us dies, we do the
funeral according to the rules. That it why it does work now.' One of the major
problems, however, is restriction of the sanctions to violacion of the laws. Only cus-
tomary punishment is applicable and this means people can be called before the
council of elders on a Monday after Akwasidae (the day on which cases are settled)
and made to bring some bottles of schnapps, some money, or maybe a sheep 'to heal
the breach'. One can never be sent to prison.
That funeral regulation is part of a larger project of reforming chieftaincy and
customary law in the light of development also appears from a statement by the
Asantehene Otumfuo Opoku Ware." He commented on a programme to 'reform
cercain critical areas of Asante customary law' that 'the objeccive is to create amore
enabling environment for social justice, stability and development of the Asante
region. [ ... ] Aspects of Asante funeral customary rites have been reformed, because
chieftaincy is abouc service and development and not "sorne esoterie ritual exer-
cise" .' He also pleaded for bringing fresh insights into the chieftaincy insticucion and
helping provide solutions to developmental problems.
According to the chiefs concerned, the main motives behind current regulacions
on the performance of funerals are the improvement of the social and economie wel-
fare of the people, the increase of the level of education, especially for gids, and the
improvement of public health. Critics, or cynics, however, say that the bye-Iaws are
intended in the first place to show power to control, to gain prestige, and to defend
the chiefs' own position by legitimising their authority. Chiefs, occupying them-
170 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
selves with the field ofcustom', keep on adapting themselves to changing situations
and shaping the relationship berween the traditional state and society and berween
the traditional state and the national government. This is a continuous historical
process. Funeral regulation is part of present day chiefs' project of modernising the
chieftaincy institution and thereby legitimising rheir position of authority in con-
temporary Ghana.
RECREATING 'cus-roxc'
When we look at the specific rules made by the Asante funeral cornmittee as pub-
lished in The Pioneer, what strikes immediately is chat in comparison to earlier
funeral bye-laws, these new regulations are extremely detailed, pertaining to every
small part of a funeral. From the mode of announcement and the length of time the
body may be kept in the mortuary, to the colour of the doch to be worn and the
prices of individual items and services prescriptions are laid down. Many of the
listed rules are similar to the ones made in earlier times, such as chose concerning the
duration of the funeral rites, the donations made to the bereaved family, the abolish-
ment of adekyeredee, and the memorial celebrations. Also, as was the case with earlier
funeral regulations, a distinction is made berween funerals for chiefs and queen-
mothers and funerals for ordinary people, although only rwo categories are stated
here. Many other regulations are new and relate to practices chat have evolved over
the last decades, like keeping the corpse in the mortuary, gorgeously decorating a
corpse, expensive tiling of graves and the use of a public address systern to announce
donations to the general public.
Throughout the text the term 'custom' is used to legirimise certain rules. 'It is
acknowledged and appreciated that performance of obsequies of a deceased person
is customary and imperative as fellows' (2). What is considered 'custorn', however,
appears to be highly flexible. 'In consonance with Asante custom, the traditional
mourning cloth of 'kuntunkuni', 'kobene', and 'brisi' must be used at funerals' (zg).
The 'One Week Celebration is found to be in consonance with Asante custom and
must be so observed' and also 'the celebration of the fortieth day of death is custorn-
ary and must be celebrated' (4b). The wake-keeping (rd) and the eightieth day cel-
ebration (ac), however, which can just as wel! be regarded as 'custornary', are abol-
ished. The limits of the concept of 'custorri' are directly expressed in the rule that
states that 'even though keeping the corpse in the mortuary is not customary, it was
however decided chat a corpse must not be kept in the mortuary for more than four
weeks for ordinary people' (rb). Most striking, however, is the rule concerning
burial: 'When necessary, it is customary that the corpse be buried with items like a
piece of doch, ring, handkerchief and small amount referred to as "adesiedie'" (rg).
Ic beautifully shows chat the 'custornary laws' leave much room for manipulation
and different interpretations. 'Custorn' may be adapted to 'necessiry' in a given
situation and made to fit people's strategies.
State and Death: Funeral Regulation 171
In practice the rules are indeed manipulated, by-passed or just broken. Although,
partly under the influence of churches, wake-keepings are no Jonger held, and lay-
ing-in-state is generally lirnited to the morning, many of the other rules are fre-
quently broken. Drinks continue to be served at many funerals, although often a bit
secluded. Sornetimes too, however, no drinks are served, but then substitutes are
sought. Bags of 'pure water', sweets or small snacks have replaced the customary
'rninerals'. Receiving guests without serving them anything is so contrary to Asante
norms chat ways are found to by-pass the ban on drinks. At one funeral I attended
even presents of plastic bowls, plates and key-holders were distribured among the
guests. The prohibition of'decorating a corpse gorgeously with expensive materials'
is of course highly susceptible to manipulation, because what one considers to be
'gorgeous' is 'very simple' to somebody else. Whatever the adjective used, I have seen
many corpses decorated with kenteand ether expensive cloth, elaborate gowns, pre-
cious beads and golden jewellery. The same goes for the one-week, fortieth day, and
one-year celebrations, which should be 'very simple' or 'limited to the deceased
family and relations.' They can still be large public celebrations with lots of people
- of course all 'relations' in one or another way -, drinks and drumming or other
types of music. The rule concerning the announcement of donations is very fre-
quently broken. Not surprisingly, because, as I said earlier, it is the public aspect of
money giving chat makes it meaningful. When rules are broken, however, in prac-
tice no sanctions are imposed. I never carne across any punishment. People breaking
the rules also did not seem to fear any punishment or even reprimand. Most people
knew about the new laws, although not in detail, and did acknowledge the need for
such laws, but in actual practice they were not eager to comply.
Considering the long history of funeral regulation without much effect and the
face chat today too many of the rules are frequently broken without any sanctions or
anybody actually bothering, it seems that it is very difficult to implement regulations
on funerals in practice. As long as cultural practices are meaningful to the people
they continue to escape control from above. The bye-laws do have an important
effect, however. When I spoke with my housemate Adwoa about the new funeral
rules, she commented:
'I think these rules are very good. The reason for these laws is chat people were
organising bigger and bigger funerals. They kept the body in the mortuary for a
long time to decorate ic richly for everybody to come and see. They started serving
drinks and even food, even to the extent of pounding fufu! People who could not
afford this got into trouble, because people only went to funerals where they knew
they would be served a lot. That is why the Asancehene has made these laws so chat
everybody does it more moderacely and ic becomes more equal. Ic lessens social
pressure. If people do not serve drinks or food now, it is nota shame, because ic is
not allowed any longer to do chat. So it is nota sign of poverry.'
I72 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Indeed, as Adwoa indicaces, ic is no longer a disgrace when no drinks are served,
when there is no adekyeredee show, when the whole celebration is indeed 'simple'.
The rules give people an excuse for not organising a big show and providing locs of
food and drinks simply because ic is prohibiced by respected authorities. They give
people the possibility of not following the funeral trend of exuberance and ostenra-
tion. Paradoxically, the strict regulations introduce an element of choice. Whereas
social pressure made it virtually impossible not to fulfil certain expectations, the
funeral bye-laws provide a way out.
The Asante funeral regulations may be compared to similar funeral regulacions in
Nigeria. In the Regulations on faneral rites, marriages and other customary matters in
Onitsha by Okagbue (Obi of Onitsha) the following objectives are given:
a) to restate the basic funeral/marriage rites in accordance with Onitsha custorn
and rradirion,
b) to eliminate chose practices which are alien to Onitsha custom and tradition;
c) to reduce the unnecessary and often scandalous waste and the genera! exhibition
of wealth and opulence which have increasingly characterised the performance of
these traditional rites amongst the people of Onitsha and which have tended to
scare the less privileged man or woman from performing these essential rites.
These regulations are intended to improve the way of life and the genera! well-
being of the people ofünicsha and promote order, peace and discipline within the
community (Obi and council 1991: i-ii).
The regulations by the Onitsha traditional authority seems to be incited by the same
concerns of genera! well-being, peace and order as chose made by the Asante state
and in a similar rnanner restate what constitutes 'custorn and tradicion'.
The funeral regulacions by the Asante chiefs area clear example of a state's close
involvement in shaping culture. The Asante stare's practice of adapting custornary
law to current practices is a continuous process of redefining what is and what is not
'culture', a recreacion of 'culture', 'custorn', and 'tradition'. But ic also beautifully
reveals a state's inabilicy to fully shape and contain culture. The state may attempt to
prescribe the whole series of events following the death of a person, but what people
do in local practice can never be fully laid down by any authority. The Asance state's
funeral bye-laws are but one component of the complex field of interaction in which
people organise and perform their death ceremonies, just as are the churches, the
family and the other constituents I have described in the previous chapters. They are
a tool people may be aware of or not and may choose to use, to transform to fit their
purpose, to pass by or to ignore.
State and Death: Funeral Regulation 173 zyxwvutsrqponm
The national state
Whereas with regard to death the traditional councils and houses of chiefs are
concerned primarily with how funeral celebrations are carried out, the national
government, alchough also occupied with the high expenses on funerals (see be-
low), concentrates in legislation mainly on chose practices pertaining to inheritance
and succession.
INHERITANCE AND THE LAW
In 1985 the governing Provisional National Defence Council made new laws on
intestate succession (r-nnc-Iaw nr), on marriage registration (r-xnc-Iaw 112), and
on administration of estates (PNDC-law nj)zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQP
to strengrhen women's positions within
the conjugal family. Here I am concerned with PNDC-law m on intestate succes-
sion, meant to provide fora fairer distribution of a deceased person's propercy, espe-
ciallywich regard to the widow of a deceased man. The Memorandum to PNDc-law
III states chat:
'The growing importance of the nuclear family brings with it its own logic of
mora! justice. Simply put, this argues chat the surviving spouse be compensated for
his/her services to the deceased spouse; ... The customary law conception of mar-
riage did not regard a wife as part of he husband' s economie unit. Therefore, the
wife' s claim on the husband' s property was also limiced .... The provisions of this
Law are therefore aimed at giving a larger portion of the estate of the deceased to
his spouse and children chan is normally the case at present ... ' (quoted in Mikell
1994: 240).
The immediate aim of the national state in formulating the 1985 laws are to confine
customary law practice and to improve the material circumstances of wives and chil-
dren in the genera! interest of mora! justice, the development and modernisation of
Ghana, and the propagacion of individual rights and modern law.
In the traditional systern of inheritance, when somebody dies without leaving a
will or some other written or oral instructions as to how his property should be dealt
with, a successor is chosen from the abusua. When a man dies intestate, not his chil-
dren or spouse succeed him, but his brother or his sister's son. Neither the children
nor the widow have a right to inherit any property. They are only entitled to mainte-
nance by the successor of their facher or husband. His personal property is inhericed
by his own abusua as a whole. It is usually accepted chat chose sharing in the debt
arising from the deceased's funeral have a right to a share in the inheritance. Any
family (abusua) property guarded by the deceased will pass on to the heir, who will
take responsibilicy for it. In case of a deceased woman, her sister or one of her daugh-
ters succeeds her. Neither spouse has a right to the property of the ether. The family
r74 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
heir inherits all property consisting of money, houses, material goods, lands and
farms, but also debrs, responsibilities (such as childcare and education), and, if spe-
cial, the position in the lineage. This customary order of inheritance means that if a
husband and a wife stayed together in one house, upon the death of the man, his
abusua can drive away the widow and the children from the matrimonia! home and
claim the house.
Christian churches too have from the first days of the missionaries up til! today
tried to regulate inheritance. The mission's propagation of Christian life based on
the conjugal family implied that for a Christian there was no need to share his/her
wealth with the abusua. A Christian' s property was thus inherited by the spouse and
the children. The Basel Mission 1902 Gemeindeordnung stated rhat upon the death
of congregation members rheir estates should be divided equally among all chil-
dren and wives and nor, as practised by 'hearhens', among 'distant relatives' or even
'srrangers' (Miescher 1997= 570). The abusua was thus excluded and referred to
as 'discant relatives', In 1929 the Presbyterian Church of the Gold Coast (which
emerged out of the Basel Mission) changed the regulations on inheritance, stating
that a deceased member' s property should be divided into three equal parts; one part
for the widow, one part for the children and one part for the abusua, thus acknowl-
edging claims by the abusua (ibid.: 571). The Catholic Church also integrates the
nuclear family relationship implied in church marriage with the Asante notion of
marrilineality. As Obeng (1996: 179) describes, in supervising the distribution of a
deceased Catholic's property the church pays attention to wherher the deceased
made use of abusua resources to acquire personal property. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
If the deceased used to
farm on abusua land, for example, the profits go back to the abusua.
Mission churches co-operated with the colonial government on the matter of
inheritance, drawing an explicit parallel between church regularions and 'English
law' with regard to the 1884 Marriage Ordinance in the Gold Coast Colony. People
who contracted a monogamous marriage under the Ordinance were no longer gov-
erned by customary law, but became subject to English law of succession, which
meant that upon (intestate) death all property passed on exclusively to the wife and
children (Miescher 1997: 569). The Marriage Ordinance was very unpopular, be-
cause it excluded the customary family from inheritance and very few couples
entered such marriages (ibid.). In 1909 the Ordinance was amended, granting rwo-
thirds of a deceased's property to wife and children and one-third in accordance
with customary law.
The Marriage Ordinance provided some protection for the surviving spouse and
children beyond customary law, bur the provisions were discriminatory as a wid-
ower gor more of his deceased wife's property rhan a widow gor of her husband's
property (FIDA 1991). In 1985 the government of Ghana passed the Intestate Succes-
sion Law (r xnc-Iaw nr), aimed at giving a larger portion of the deceased's estate to
his spouse(s) and children than was the case before. Under the new law, the house
and all the household chattels including jewellery, clothes, furniture, electrical
State and Death: Funeral Regulation I75
appliances and cars, pass to the surviving spouse(s) and children. The rest of the
property is distributed as follows: three-sixteenth goes to the surviving spouse(s);
nine-sixteenth to the surviving child(ren); and one quarter shall pass according to
customary law, which for the Akan means it goes to the abusua. If the deceased is
survived by a parent, one-eighth goes to the parent and one-eighrh to the abusua.
The law further makes provisions for different combinations of surviving spouses,
children, and parents. When a man has more than one wife, all the wives share
equally in the portion of the property that goes the spouse. Second wives of men
who are married under the Marriage Ordinance, however, are not legally recognised
as a wife and can therefore lay no claim to any of the husband's property. The chil-
dren she may have with him, however, are entitled to share the children's part
equally wirh the children he has with his formal wife.
Although the Intestate Succession Law was passed in 1985, many people are still
not aware of its exact provisions and the possibilities it gives thern. In practice many
widows and children do not receive the portion of their husband's or father's estate
they are entitled to or are ejected from their house. This acrually happened to Nana
when her husband died in 1989. She was living together wirh her husband in a house
in Bekwai, but after his death, his abusua claimed the house and Nana was forced to
go and stay in her brother' s house, where she has since lived up til! today. This is still
qui te common, but people are either ignorant of the Intestate Succession Law, don'r
know the details, or are reluctanr to undertake any legal action. The state therefore
uses several media to create awareness of the new inheritance law and to urge people
to make use of it when they are mistreated.
The organisation FIDA Ghana Legal Aid has published a bookler on the Intestate
Succession Law in the 'Women and the law' series, as part of the FIDA Ghana Legal
Literacy Project. This project seeks to 'educate the Ghanaian society in genera! and
women in particular about their rights and obligations and to encourage thern to
assert those rights. [ ... ] the aim is to bring the law in as simple a manner as possible
to all sections of the society' and to 'eliminate some of the ignorance which is imped-
ing the progress of women in our society' (FIDA 1991: 1). The booklet explains in
detail, in plain terms, and with lots of examples and a short cartoon (p. 176) all pro-
visions of the Intestate Succession Law. Such publications, however, are not gener-
ally available and not easily accessible for a large section of the popularion.
Radio seems to be a more effective medium. On December 4th 1998 I heard an
information programme in Twi on intestate succession on a Kumasi regional radio
station. On the basis of concrete inheritance cases of callers, a panel of lawyers ex-
plained PNDc-law III in great detail. Emphasis was also put on the importance of
making wills. Cultural perceptions of what constitutes a wil! cause much reluctance
to making a wil!. In Akan tradition oral testamentary dispositions (samanseë) were
only made in the expectation of death. For the average person, making a written
wil! is thus tantamount to extending a formal invitation to death. Another problem
is the lack of openness about wills. Many people make a wil! secretly without
I76 Long live the dead! State and Death: Funeral Regulation I77 zyxwvutsrqp

CARTOON PROPAGATING PNDC-LAW lII (FIDA) 1991

178 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
informing their relatives. This may cause problems after death. The radio lawyers
stressed that when you make a wil!, it is important to call all persons concerned
together and inform thern of your wishes. In that way any obscurities may be clari-
fied and conflicts solved before death. What surprised me in the radio discussion,
was that women expressed much unhappiness about the law. As J oana also explained
me afterwards, women often don't like their husbands to succeed to their property,
because they fear that it wil! be passed on to a new wife. The idea that another
woman will be enriched by property which ought to pass exclusively to their own
children and abusua is unacceptable to them.
In a video film, which I saw in the Ghana Films cinema in Accra, modern law
concerning property and inheritance is, although not directly by the state, propa-
gated: Trial ofLove by Kofi Ohemeng Owusu (Graceland Motion Pictures). In the
first scene we are at a (Kofi's) burial at a cemetery. A beautiful young woman (Suzy)
stands at some distance looking at the scene. A woman (Kofi's widow) walks up to
her and slaps her in the face. The rest of the film is a flash back to tel1 us how this
carne about. Kofi has died of 'a hole in his heart', He was in love with Suzy and had
wanted to marry her, hut his uncle forced him to marry another woman he had
already arranged for him. Kofi is unhappy with his wife and Suzy is unhappy with
her new, rich lover, who turns out to have an affair with her best friend. When Kofi
and Suzy meet again in a supermarket after some years, they fall in love again. Kofi
tells his wife he has to travel for his work and spends the weekend with Suzy. 'IfI
could spend one night with you, I wouldn't mind dying the following day', he
sighs. They sleep together and the next day Kofi gets a heart attack and dies in
the hospita! with his wife at his side. Kofi's uncle claims, as tradition demands, all
his property for the family and leaves nothing to the widow. He even takes the
house from her. Suzy feels somehow guilty for Kofi's death. She is a lawyer and
wants to help Kofi's widow. She uses PNDC-law III in court against Kofi's uncle and
wins the case.
The message of the film is clear: holding on to traditions too much is not good.
The arranged marriage of Kofi was the cause of all misery and of his death. The
abusua; embodied by the (maternal) uncle, symbolises restrictive and outmoded
custom. Love marriage between two individuals is propagated instead. Moreover,
the traditional custom of succession and inheritance is unfair and backward. Such
traditions do not fit into present-day Ghana. Within the framework of a love drama
the film also creates awareness about the 1985 Intestate Succession Law in the same
way radio programmes do, based on a concrete example that people can relate to.
Constitutional law as created by state is of course only a tool the state uses to
attempt to regulate people's behaviour. In local practice people deal with a complex
of different laws, traditions and practices. Miescher (1997) presents an inheritance
court case of 1943 in a Kwahu customary court, in which people manoeuvre within
the ambiguous space berween rwo orders of inheritance which form part of a dual
legal system created by colonial rule and elaborated in post-colonial Ghana. The dis-
State and Death: Funeral Regulation 179
pure was between rwo men over the ownership of a house. The plaintiff, who had
once built the house, claimed that it had become abusua property when his brothers
had given him some money to help repay the loan on the house. The defendant,
however, stated that the house was sold to the brother and inherited patrilineally
(because he was a Presbyterian) by his children when he died and had thus become
their personal property. The defendant was the uncle of the children and presenred
their interest. The case points to the negotiable distinction berween abusua property
and personal property and berween customary matrilineal inheritance and (par-
tially) patrilineal inheritance as propagated by the church and the state. People make
conscious use of certain orders of inheritance law in accordance with their aims and
strategies.
Mensa-Bonsu writes that 'the Intestate Succession Law has not been very wel!
received, particularly in the matrilineal communities [ ... ].The feeling in these areas
is that it is an imposition of a foreign culture on them and therefore there is a lot of
resistance to its provisions' (1994: 107). He also points to the fear of women that
their property wil! enrich a co-wife or a new wife of her husband after her death. On
the other hand, many second wives or 'unofficial wives' are very happy with the law,
because they can now, through rheir children, share in their deceased husband's
property. Many men are not happy with the law either, because it is considered
downright unmanly to lay claim to a deceased wife's property. Among the other
social-cultural problems with the application of the law Mensa-Bonsu mentions the
tendency of men to have extra-marital relationships, the importance of the extended
family beyond childhood, the difference in perception of the marriage bond union
among the urban elite as opposed to the rest of the society, and the dependency of
patents (ibid.: 126). From a research carried out by Dankwa (1998) it appears that in
practice the law is very often not applied. People rather practice customary inherit-
ance or, in some cases, make wills to avo id the law to benefit abusua members. When
patrilineal inheritance rules are followed it is more often the rules imposed by a par-
ticular church than the national law.
When Nana's eldest brother Kwabena Gyira, who had built the house, died intes-
tate, his brother Kwabena Bio got the guardianship over his property and the house.
When Kwabena Bio also died in 1998, the next brother should succeed him, hut
because of the lack of a capable male, it was Nana who succeeded him as abusua-
panin and fiewura (guardian of the house). Nana's eldest son, Kwasi Owusu, guards
the rest of the family property. Joana told me that when her father, Kofi Nyame,
died in 1989 he had left a wil!. He had started a small cocoa farm and half ofit was for
Nana, his wife, and the other half for his children. Further he had left a plot ofland
to his children. The land on whichJoana has built her house, which was initiated by
her father, was already given to her personally before his death and thus did not
appear in the wil!. The house, in which Nana was living with her husband however,
was taken by his abusua or already belonged to thern, and Nana was, according to
herself, expelled from the house.
I80 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
THE STATE, CULTURE, AND FUNERALS
The National State of Ghana takes an explicit stance towards culture. The govern-
ment directs its cultural policies at the propagation of the national cultural heritage
and the recognition of cultural diversiry wirhin national unity. The state attempts to
restore people's pride in the country by having Ghana's 'rich and colourful culture'
shown on TV, stimulating the celebration of traditional festivals, and teaching pupils
in school about diverse cultural aspects of Ghana's various ethnic groups. This dis-
course has also been referred to as 'Sankofaism', deriving from the Akan symbol of a
bird looking backward called 'sankofa', which translates as 'go back and take it.' The
bird's feet are pointed forward, which shows chat nota complete return to the past is
aimed at, but a use of traditions and past experience and wisdom to build the future,
instead of allowing local culture to be swept away by supposedly homogenising
Western values, fashions and practices. The people's pride in cultural heritage and
history is seen as a precondition for the development of the country. While these
ideas are shared by many intellectuals, artists and some theologians of orthodox mis-
sion churches, they are fiercely opposed by a large part of the population, especially
by pentecostalists (see Meyer 1998).
Ina recent debate in parliament about the new 'Mortuaries and Funeral Facilities
Bill', which seeks to encourage private participation in the preservation of dead
bodies (Daily Graphic J uly 16, 1998), some members of parliament expressed concern
with the high cost of funerals and proposed to link the provisions of the bil! with
regulation on funerals to reduce cost and time wasting. One member, Mr. Nyanor,
queried 'why preserve the dead and spend much money on drinks for funerals? After
all, when man dies, he is dead.' Others too commented on the need to curtail ex-
penses and said the bil! had been long overdue. Only one person, Mr. Korankye,
called attention to funeral regulation chat would consider the cultural practices of
the people. Over the years the high funeral cost has generated a lot of de bate and gov-
ernment concern. Notably during the revolutionary military area there have been
many attempts by the government to regulate funeral spending (Yeboah-Afari 1997),
but without much effect. In the current funeral debate too, it seems chat, for the gov-
ernment, it is more a financial question of reducing cost, than a question of preserv-
ing part of Ghana' s 'rich cultural heritage'. The way people celebrate their funerals
does not come under the heading of 'culture' in the state's cultural policy, as do 'tra-
ditional festivals' and durbars of chiefs. Not the 'corrupted' cu!tural practices, which
are meaningful to contemporary people, but a recreated body of'rich and colourful
heritage', have to constitute the people's national pride.
The state does, however, recognise the importance of funeral celebrations in
another way, which is not reflection and policy making, but participation in funerals
of prominent people, politica! figures or important chiefs. This is most direct in the
organisation of state funerals, where the coffin is covered with Ghana's national
flag and borne and accompanied by a military guard or a special security service.
State and Death: Funeral Regulation I8I
Secondly, the state's funeral participation is clear in state official's attendance at
funerals of eminent people. The presence of President Rawlings, First Lady Nana
Konadu Agyeman-Rawlings, Vice-president Acta Mills and ether dignitaries at big
funerals is frequently covered in colour pictures by the national dailies. They are
pomayed filing past the body, arriving at the funeral grounds, or seated under NDC
canopies and flags. At the burial of the paramountchief of Dormaa in November
1998, the leader of the opposition party NPP, Kuffour, arrived wirh much show on a
truck full of NPP people and was welcomed by the crowd wirh great acclaim."
Funerals of important people are clearly an arena for politica! propaganda. In trib-
utes the President and other state officials may comment on politica! developments
or express views on past or current themes. At the burial of the late Bosumtwi-Sam,
Deputy Minister of Interior, for instance, President Rawlings said chat 'at the height
of slanderous propaganda against the Progressive Alliance, the late depury minister
led the way to the courts for justice' (Daily GraphicJuly 31, 1998).
The direct role of the state in a prorninent's funeral is clear in Appiah's account of
his father's funeral (see also Chapter 2). Both Ghana's national state and the Asante
state had an interest in this funeral. As I have recounted in Chapter 2 already, the sis-
ter of Joe Appiah tried to invoke the power of her husband, the Asantehene, in the
organisation of the funeral in the power struggle berween the wife and children of
the deceased and his (royal) abusua. To the surprise of many, the head of state Presi-
dent Rawlings and his party suddenly appeared at the burial. At the graveside
Rawlings remarked chat 'if we truly wish to honour the memory of a great man, we
wil! not disturb his widow and his children over questions of property' (Appiah
1992: 192). On the meaning of Rawling's presence at this disputed funeral of an
important national character Kwame Appiah cornments:
'In effect, his mere presence at the funeral, which he would not ordinarily have
attended, was a rebuke to the Asamehene and his wife: chat the words he spoke at
the graveside were addressed to the heart of the dispure between my farher and his
sister only made rhis explicit. In the normal business of Ghana, the head of state
and the king circle warily about each other, each aware of the symbolic and ma-
terial resources at each other's disposal. To come to the Asantehene's capital to
deliver this rebuke, Jerry Rawlings had to have a point to make. In the context
of public knowledge, the main politica! effects of his presence were three: first,
to claim affinity with a politician of the independence generation; second, to
underline recent government decrees expanding the property righrs of widows
[PNoc-Law m]; third, to irnply an awareness of the manipulations of the stool for
private ends' (ibid.).
The funeral of Joe Appiah provided the occasion for conflict berween the Asante
king and the head of state, between Asante and Ghana. lt extended to a more
abstract confrontation berween community values and individual rights. But to see
I82 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
in this opposition a conflict berween tradition and modernity would be a mistake.
What we are dealing with here is a politica! scene in which two different states are
struggling for influence and power and tty to exceed control over cultural values,
both within the context of modernity. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Odupon kesee atutu, Otumfuo Opoku Ware' s burial
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
In the last month of my stay in Ghana, when I was no longer staying in Bekwai, but
had moved to Kumasi with my colleagues of the Kindermuseum, something hap-
pened. On the evening of Friday 26th of February somebody carne to tel1 us that
odupon kesee atutu, 'a big tree had fallen.' Whispers and rumours in the streets of
Kumasi: the king is dead. Nobody was supposed to know it yet. People were afraid
to go out on the streets at night as 'they' might catch some people to accompany the
king on his journey to asamando, as used to be the custom. Or rhey might fear that
wicked people would misuse the' chaotic situation' for crimina! activities. The coin-
cidence is bizarre; I was studying Asante funerals and just before I left the Asante
king died, bringing up the 'rnorher of all funerals', as one daily put it, for most
Asante themselves a once-in-a-lifetime event. Indeed, people were very happy for
me, because finally I had the opporcuniry to observe 'real culture.' What I had seen
up til! then had, in their eyes, suddenly become nothing in comparison to this out-
standing piece of culture. The royal burial would take place in the last week before
my departure. I was very lucky.
The death of the Asante king, Otumfuo Opoku Ware II, in February 1999 trig-
gered a debate on the question of what should be the meaning and place of 'tradi-
tiori' and 'culture' in contemporary Ghanaian society. Ït started with the contro-
versy around the quick announcement of the king's death. In Asante tradition the
passing away of a king should be surrounded by much secrecy. When in 1970 the
previous Asantehene Nana Agyeman Prempeh II died, the people were kept igno-
rant until some of thern had been captured to be killed and buried with the king. At
least, that was the story that went round now. The official reading of the embargo on
any report on a king' s death until a formal announcement has been made was that it
affords the immediate circle of responsible authorities to not only recover from the
shock, but to put in place the necessary arrangements to ensure a peaceful transition
(Statesman, March 3, 1999). This time, however, a journalist leaked the news and a
radio broadcast by the BBC on Saturday made known to the whole world that the
Asante king was dead. On Monday several newspapers opened with front-page
headlines like 'The King is Gone!' ( Chronicle March 1, 1999). A big conflict between
the Kumasi Traditional Council zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
(KTC) and the media followed. The chiefs were
furious at this offence on 'a sacred traditional value considered one of the pillars of
the institution of chieftancy' (Statesman March 3, 1999). The National Media Com-
mission and the Ghana J ournalists Association apologised to the KTC for failure of
State and Death: Funeral Regulation 183
some journalists to show respect for tradition, but the chiefs did at chat time not
accept the apology and requested investigations into who leaked the news of the
Asantehene's death to the media. The journalist in question was persecuted and fled.
Later, however, the KTC called on the media to 'forget whatever happened in the
past and join hands with Asanteman to give the Asantehene a fitting burial' (Daily
Graphic March 19, 1999).
Traditional customs surrounding the death of a king had clashed with the princi-
ples of modern journalism. In an article under the headline 'Should customs be
modified or modernity stifled?' K.B. Asante argues that 'the practice ofkeeping the
dead for weeks or months before burial is not part of the custom of any group in
Ghana. It is of recent origin. The practice of not announcing the death of a chief for
days or weeks cannot rherefore be an essential part of custom. [ ... ] The old order of
suppression of news should yield to the new one of freedom to publish and be
damned. Ït is custom which should be modified to accommodate the new order'
(Daily Graphic March 15, 1999). Yet it is not so much a clash between 'custorri' and
'rnoderniry' as such, but more berween two different sets of values, one connected to
the Asante state and one connected to the national Ghanaian state and manipulated
by leaders in the struggle for power.
From Sunday March 21st to Thursday March 25th five days ofburial ceremonies
for Otumfuo at the Manhyia palace grounds brought virtually all business in the city
to a halt. Thousands of mourners from all over Ghana and far beyond flocked
together around the palace. All Asante chiefs and paramountchiefs and many ether
Ghanaian chiefs presented themselves with their whole retinues of sub-chiefs, lin-
guists, sword bearers, umbrella carriers, stool carriers and other court servants, hom
blowers and various drum bands. They arrived in processions, wearing war cos-
tumes, amulets and other regalia to signify their state of deep mourning. They
walked slowly under large, moving state umbrellas, led by the rhythms of the
fontomfrom drums. They all sat in state with their entourages at the appointed place
and according to customary seating arrangements. There were performances of vari-
ous kinds of drumming and dancing, mostly fontomfrom and adowa. W omen sang
mournful dirges and nnioomkori songs. Abrafo (executioners) and asafo (warrior)
companies incessantly fired musketry to show prowess and to scare away mourners
to make way for chiefs. The death of the king is like war. The loss of the embodi-
ment of unity and peace symbolically brings Asante in a war-like state of chaos and
insecurity. But despite this chaos and the huge crowd of mourners, the organisation
was perfect.
On Monday President Rawlings and a 35-member government delegation arrived
at the burial by helicopter and luxurious cars. Theywere the first to file past the body
of the king, who was laid in state in the Executive Lounge of the Manhyia Palace.
Thereafter, the government officials were seated at a special podium and greeted by
the principle chiefs of Kumasi. Much later, Rawlings was commended by the new
Asantehene Otumfuo Osei Tutu II for his help (in cash, kind and presence) in the
I84 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
burial ceremonies ofOpoku Ware. In turn, Rawlings commended the Kumasi Tra-
ditional Council for the organisation and peaceful proceedings of the burial. The
death of the king was the occasion for the leaders of Asante and of Ghana to make
customary gestures of respect towards each other, as part of diplomatie balancing
strategies between both states. But, as indicated earlier, there also was the contro-
versy around the first lady, Nana Konadu Rawlings. By the way she had dressed up
she showed no respect, people complained. Contrary to the dress code issued by
funeral planning committee, which prescribed kuntunkuni (black mourning cloth)
for men and dansinkran (wornen's mourning cloth draped around the shoulder) or
kaba without headgear for women, she wore a headscarf and even sunglasses. For a
prominent lady of royal Asante blood this was highly suspect. Many people ex-
plained her behaviour as outright disdain for the chieftaincy institution and for
Asante as a whole.
Chiefs, royals and the genera! public also had the opportunity to file past the
body of the king to pay their last respects. Watches, chains, earrings and other jewel-
lery and sandals were to be removed as a sign of respect for the king. People queued
for hours or tried to elbow their way through the big crowd around the palace
to enter, which resulted in small fights and minor injuries. At the entrance of the
lounge security personnel had a hard time keeping the pushing crowd in check.
Inside, the royal corpse was guarded by royal body guards who ordered the rnourn-
ers out again before their eyes could even grasp the impressive quantity of gold on
the Asantehene's body. On Wednesday all zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Asante paramountchiefs and Kumasi
chiefs swore the oath of the allegiance to their king. With their cloth down and a
sword pointed towards the dead body, they swore that if it had been at the battle
field, they would have clone everything to save his life, but now that a natura! death
had come to take him away, they could do nothing to prevent it. Outside the palace,
processions, drumming, dancing and firing of musketry continued. In all, it was a
big performance of the greatness and the organisation of the Asante kingdom. In-
deed, as repeatedly reported in newspaper articles and tributes, 'as Otumfuo lays in
state, and as people from all walks of life throng Kumasi and the Manhyia palace to
pay him their last respects, that gives assurance that chieftaincy will survive and
endure. The sacred institution is ever relevant and deeply touches the heart of all
Ghanaians' (Daily Graphic March 24, 1999). But for many people among the thou-
sands of mourners, the happening was not so much about the relevance or sacro-
sanctiry of chieftaincy, but was an impressive spectacle of 'traditional culture', as
media reports also put it, a 'rich cultural display'.
On Thursday the body of the Asantehene was taken to the St. Cyprian Anglican
Church fora burial service, which could be followed on video screens outside. After
that the casket containing the mortal remains of the Asantehene was clad in the na-
tional colours and borne by a military gun carriage to the Bantama Royal Mauso-
leum for a wreath-laying ceremony. This signified the state burial accorded to the
Asantehene by the government in recognition ofhis dedicated service to the nation.
State and Death: Funeral Regulation I85
Ït was described by one newspaper as 'a unique blend of state and traditional burial
activities' ( Times March 26, 1999). 'As the people and chiefs of Ashanti handed over
proceedings to the state at a point, there was no doubt in anybody's mind, that che
man who will be remembered for his tact shrewd diplomacy, and tolerance,
belonged to the nation and not just Asanteman' (ibid.). Indeed, the royal burial
ceremonies provided the Asante state and the Ghanaian state the opportuniry for
strategie demonstrations. The Asante chiefs, in mourning their great king, demon-
strated their power as a kingdom, their uniry, strength, and coherence. For the gov-
ernment it was an occasion not only to demonstrate its concern with cultural heri-
tage, but also to show that the real power of chieftancy lies in the realm of''culture', a
view echoed by media reports of the royal burial. Moreover, by taking over the direc-
tion of part of the ceremonies from the traditional authorities and praising the
Asantehene for his politica! tolerance and non-allegiance, the government claimed
the persen of the king as an executive partner in cultural matters - a cultural ambas-
sador so to say - rather than a politica! opponent. And this co-operation instead of
opposition is exactly why many Asante have criticised Otumfuo Opoku Ware as
being too soft a king.
Processes of elaboration of difference and negotiation of power and prestige that, as
I have discussed in earlier chapters, are at work between individuals and groups on a
local level do in a similar vein operate on the level of the state. Death, funerals, and
inheritance are for both the traditionalAsante state and the national state of Ghana
a field to negotiate their relation to society and the precarious power relation be-
tween each other. Both states are concerned with exercising control over cultural
practice within their respective projects of modernising the chieftaincy institution
and developing the country. This historica! process entails a constant redefinition
of'culture' and 'custorri'. Local practice reveals any state's inability to confine cul-
ture within a specific set oflaws and regulacions. Instead, people manoeuvre within
the ambiguous space between different legal orders and traditions in pursuit of
their own strategies.

CHAPTER
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
7 zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Concluding Remarks:
Death and the N egotiation of Culture
In this study I have examined the ways in which Asante people celebrate their funer-
als and in this process shape identities and lifestyles. The Asante funeral is nota ritu-
al dictated by a fixed 'tradition', a particular religieus framework, or a social 'struc-
ture'. Neither are processes of modernisation simply replacing 'indigenous rituals'
with Western practices and objects. Asante funerals rather form a complex field of
interaction, where people appropriate foreign as well as indigenous materials in a
process of' cultural bricolage' and develop new, local sryles of celebrating death.
The funeral as one specific event, perceived by many Asante themselves as being
at the heart of their cultural and social life, has given us an insight into the intricacies
of contemporary Asante life. Funerals not only reflect transformations in society,
they also offer people a space to work out changing social patterns, differences
berween city and village, lifestyles and cultural preferences, in fact, to stage images of
life. By shaping death and remembrance, Asante at the same time create life. Cur-
rent transformations of funeral practices, then, have allowed us to grasp some of the
ways in which people deal with processes of cultural change in Ghana.
In the course of the 20th century Asante society has undergone considerable
changes. Christian missions, colonial rule and the formation of a national state,
increased involvement in global economy and commerce, Western education, corn-
modities, services and values, urban life, changing social patterns, and expanded
transport and communication facilities have all made society increasingly complex.
Complex in the sense that different alternatives and new possibilities that have be-
come available have increased people's choice, but have also created insecurities and
tensions. With these historica! developments carne new ideals, concepts and images;
new practices and new objects. The nuclear family has for many people become the
exemplary social form of a modern Christian life. An individual' s life course ideally
embraces high education, a professional career, and international travel. Consump-
tion and entertainment have become markers of a modern lifestyle.
The process of globalisation has thus provided people with new materials and
tools to shape life and death. The creative rearticulations of some of these have been
described as expressions of 'popular culture' (e.g. Fabian 1998) and have become
essential in fashioning conternporary Asante death. They include phorography (stu-
dio porrraits and funeral photography). painting and sculpture (grave tornbs), video
zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Concluding Remarks zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONML
I87
(funeral coverage), popular music (highlife), fashion (funeral dress), literacy prod-
ucts (funeral programmes, posters, and obituaries), mass media (radio, television
and newspaper obituaries), and (imported) consumer goeds (exchanged and shown
at funerals). It would be misleading to see these practices and objects purely as for-
eign influences on Asante funeral celebrations, because it is only in local practice
that rhey get their distincrive form and become meaningful.
Asante moderniry, then, also includes a body of practices and beliefs deeply
embedded in local traditions. This cultural baggage that people carry with them and
draw upon, but also challenge, has been dealt with mainly in the first three chapters.
Imaginations of a land of the dead, asamando, and the notion of guiding the spirit of
a deceased to the ether world, whether truly believed, doubted or denied outrighr,
constitute the narrative framework for the performance of funerals. Respect for the
dead is closely connected to the Akan notion of family (abusua) as a group of people
held togerher by bloed ties and extending across the boundary between of life
and death, thus comprising both living and dead members. Bloed descent and the
hometown as the ancestral land of one's family, then, form the basic pillars of one's
identity. An individual's life can not be separated from family prestige and group
solidarity. Cultural values of accumulation of wealth and people connect to socially
constituted exchange patterns based on reciprocity. The centrality and public nature
of funerals should be understood against the background of this cultural habitus. So
do certain recurrent elements of mortuary rites express social and cosmological tra-
ditions: the organisation of the funeral by the matrilineal family, the red and black
colour of the mourning cloth, the donation system, the exchange of gifts among eer-
tain categories of people, the display of wealth, and the whole sequence of particular
celebrations (the week day, the final funeral rites, thanksgiving, the fortieth day cel-
ebration, and the anniversary).
Ït is within this local, culturally embedded habitus of historically evolved tradi-
tions chat globally circulating producrs, pracrices, and imaginations are appropri-
ated. This is, however, by no means a smooth or taken-for-granted process. The
relatively rapid social and cultural transformations have also brought about contra-
dictions in Asante society as a whole and in the individual lives of many people. At
the level of social organisation rhere is a tension between the customary abusua and
the marriage bond as the focal point oflife. Many people experience conflicting loy-
alties. The abusua, clan and hometown bond as basis ofidentiry and social life brings
with it expectations and obligations that often clash with the increased emphasis
on individuality, professional career, and the nuclear family. At the religieus level,
Christian life is feit by many to exclude locally grounded beliefs and practices, which
they can nevertheless not cornplerely leave behind. With regard to the state and leg-
islation colonial history has left a legacy of a field of ambiguities between national
law, customary law and local legal practices. Changes and new situations have thus
caused uncertainties, ambiguities, conflicts, and tensions in society. It is these that
are reflected upon and worked out in the ritual context of death.
r88 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
I have taken a processual approach focused on the actions, views and interests of
the various parries involved in the celebration of funerals. The performance of a
funeral entails, as we have seen, a struggle between people, groups of people and
institutions about the image to be created. The power relations at play in the con-
trol over the funeral performance, over imagination and imagery, make up for what
I have called the 'polities of imagination'. This power game is effectively about ere-
ating remembrance, whereby different parties have different, sometimes compet-
ing, foei and modes of remembering. The individual person, when looking ahead
to his/her own funeral, is preoccupied with an image of his/her successful life, a
public recognition of personal achievement that will ensure his/her future rernem-
brance after death. The family is eager to present first of all an image of its own pres-
tige, wealth and solidarity at the funeral of one of its members. Family funerals are
active memorisations of the abusua as the primary identity group. Communities
and associations, when attending a funeral, also try to embody an image of com-
mon membership and uniry and to claim the deceased as one of them, The entre-
preneurs in the funeral industry, then, provide the means to create these images, the
symbols people need to communicate their values and ideals, the vehicles for
remembrance. Of course such entrepreneurs have a commercial interest in people's
imaginations of success and will thus reinforce these. Christian churches are most
concerned with an image of morality and orderliness - which may conflict sharply
with Asante ways of theatrically expressing grief to install the memory of the de-
ceased -, of individuality, Christian love and brotherhood and equality in God.
Lasdy, the rwo states, that is, both the national government and the Asante chiefs,
want to stage an image of progress and development, and of control and authority.
For the Asante state, funerals of important chiefs, like that of the Asantehene, are
powerful modes of restating tradition and memorising the heroic history of the
Asante kingdom.
It is in the interplay between these different parties that funerals are shaped and
meaning is created. My focus on this interplay has allowed for the heterogeneity of
Asante cultural practice. The factors at play are too many and the interests too
diverse to suppose any standard scenario and predict people's actions and a particu-
lar funeral's course. The ambiguities of a given situation leave much room forma-
nipulation and choice. People do not merely enact ritual roles or obey ritual rules,
but follow strategies, of which such roles and rules may be part. In rhis 'struggle'
about the performance of funerals local cultural concepts are negotiated, recreated,
or redefined, First, personhood and cosmology are worked out in the recreation of a
dead person as an ideal person, based on an ideal image of success and good life. This
is the person to be remembered and to live on in the lives and memories of his/
her relations. Christianity, with emphasis on individual deeds instead of family and
hornetown ties, has provided new ways of remembrance. Grave tombs identified
with name, date and other texts and nowadays photographs, written biographies
and eulogies constitute the deceased as an individual person rather than as part of a
Concluding Remarks r89
large group of family ancestors, as is the case with Asante ways of remembrance
through libation and ancestral stools.
The flexibility of the Akan kinship system and the tension berween the abusua
and the modern nuclear family make that 'family' is not a given, but is rnodifiable
and negotiable. This happens at the occasion of death through the process of organi-
sation of the funeral, the distribution of roles and tasks, the exchange of gifts and
contributions, the use of clothing, and matters of debr sharing and inheritance. In
the race for prestige, the bereaved abusua stages itself as the ideal family: a wealthy
family, with educated members travelling abroad, pursuing professional careers and
making money, but still close in harmony and solidarity, collectively paying respect
to their dead. In defending control over the funeral, the abusua has to compete with
the nuclear family, which in most areas oflife has gained much in importance. Nei-
ther is 'community' a given, single entity ofhometown. New or other comrnunities,
groups of people across or within the hornerown community, follow strategies of
belonging and exclusion in their clothing, donations, and common performance.
Group identity and unity are publicly presented and differences with other groups
are worked out. The fluid boundaries between city and village or rural town urge
(especially city) people to stage a sharp dividing line by means of clothing, acces-
sories, and behaviour as part of making identity statements. In the case of conflict
within a community or between communities, the choice between taking part or
not taking part in a funeral is a clear politica! move.
Business is reshaped in the sense that ir is incorporated in the local habitus of
social exchange. Within a pattern of particular individuals and groups being respon-
sible for certain contributions or gifts, entrepreneurs in the funeral industry provide
the symbols needed to meet cultural values of respect and reciprocity and to express
lifestyles and ideals. Conspicuous consumption of goods as well as services is an
effective status marker. Not only do these goods and services colour the picture peo-
ple seek to create, the consumption of them is itself a sign of people's ability to pur-
chase, of a modern and successful life. But also is 'traditiori' recreated and incorpo-
rated in the funeral industry by people who hire themselves out to perform certain
'custornary' funeral activities, such as drumming, presenting gifts or wailing.
Where people at the grassroots unintendedly negotiate funeral culture, direct
regulation of cultural practice comes from above. Churches and states redefine 'tra-
dition' and 'custorn', adapt legal orders, and reinterpret history in their efforrs to
control the unbridled funeral fascination of the people. In this process 'custom' is
manipulated either positively or negatively to justify rules. By framing funeral regu-
lation within the discourse of national development both state and church leaders at
the same time claim authoriry and legitimise their place in society. For churches this
is a matter of defining what is Christian and should be promoted, what is not Chris-
tian, but can nevertheless be tolerated, and what is anti-Christian ('heathen') and
should be banned. Both the national government and the Asante chiefs try to bal-
ance a recreated body of cultural practices and traditions and the development of the
I90 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
country. The historically delicate power relation berween the two states is worked
out borh in legislative practice and in leaders' participation in prominent people's
funerals. • new, be it jenever from the Dutch sea traders, the Christian God, studio photo-
The persisting and even growing importance of funerals in Asante relates to the
constant need for reflection on and negotiation of social relationships and identities.
In the context of profound changes in society, death emerges as a space for reassert-
ing religious identities, individual status, family mernbership, and community affilia-
tions. Funerals give people a time-out from daily practice. Within the framing nar-
rative of guiding the spirit of the deceased safely and respectfully from the world of
the living to the world of the dead, the tragic event of death provides the ritual con-
text to restate values of life and relations between the living.
These observations have implications for an understanding of processes of cultural
change and globalisation. Funerals as contemporary cultural practice chat continues
to be influenced by an evolving, but distinctly Asante tradition, urge us to acknowl-
edge the vitality and dynamism of Asante culture. This is beautifully illustrated by
an advertisement poster for imported Dutch schnapps chat I saw in a bar in Bekwai.
At the top is written: 'De Ruyter jenever: at the heart of tradition', Then, under an
image of men in traditional cloth pouring libation, we read 'exclusively produced in
Holland'. Can something at the beart of tradition derive exclusively from far away?
Indeed, this poster directly challenges the still common time-space assumptions
implicit in our notions of culture and tradition. Ït shows us that a taken-for-granted
opposition of Western concepts of'moderniry' and 'rradition', whereby the first is
connected to 'global' and the 'present' and the latter to 'local' and the 'past' and the
onslaught of global moderniry would destroy local tradition, is untenable and un-
suited to analyse processes of cultural change. A view of culture as contemporary
practice grounded in local space and as always in the making in an open-ended pro-
cess, on the other hand, does allow for such coexistence ofrradition' and 'rnoder-
nity'. Both are constantly under reconstruction as part of the argument between
people living in today's world, creating their own moderniry. The intricacies of this
process cannot be grasped by marking certain practices as 'traditional' and others as
'modern', by tracing the 'indigenous' or 'Western' origins of the elements of an
amalgam (Asad 1996: 264). Instead, there is a need for an anthropology that focuses
on the ways in which people reconfigurate modernity and negotiate culture.
In his study of the Kabre people ofNorthern Togo, Remotely Global; Charles Piot
(1999) has shown how life and culture in a seemingly isolated village are to a great
extent influenced by centuries ofbeing ried into larger global processes. Kabre ritu-
als and ceremonies, Piot argues, need to be understood within this complex web of
global connections, within the history of the 'modern'. Asante cultural practice too
is as much shaped and given meaning by colonial and post-colonial history and the
threads of global interaction as by anything 'indigenous'. The Asante history of
migration and mobility and intensive interaction with other people(s) accounts fora
Concluding Remarks I9I
long tradition of incorporating things from outside, be it objecrs, practices or ideas,
and giving thern a new place and new meanings. At the introduction of sornerhing
graphes, imported consumer goods, pharmaceuticals, take-away food in disposable
boxes, or rap music, its exoticness or otherness may add extra value, special powers
or prestige to it. Over time new connections are forged and the distinction berween
what carne from outside and what was there already blurs. It is no longer primarily
relevant whether something is indigenous or exotic, because its meaning derives
from the context of local practice. What may be conceived of as new and exotic at
one point in time, may at a later point be part and parcel of'local tradition', and at
still a later point disappear as outmoded or backward traditional practice or maybe
revived as 'cultural heritage'. This depends not on its historical place of origin, but
on its relevance to contemporary life experience. Kwame Appiah gives another beau-
tiful illustration in his discussion of a 'neotraditional' sculpture titled Yoruba man
with a bicycle. 'The man with a bicycle is produced by someone who does not care
chat the bicycle is the white man's invention - it is not there to be Other to the
Yoruba Self; it is there because someone cared for its solidity; it is rhere because it
wil! take us further than our feet wil! take us' (1992: 157). To understand cultural
change we should not look fora singular 'origin' determining the essence and mean-
ing of an object, a practice, or a concept, but rather for the interactive ways in which
people make use of it to shape and make sense of their daily life world, for its practi-
cal relevance.
This raises the question ofwhat 'culture' is. As NanaAnnoh-Oprensem explicitly
srates, 'the aberrations of making silver collections for the bereaved family, long ora-
torical platitudes, concocted testimonies and stories at churches, unveiling of tomb-
stones and displaying drinks, cloches and jewellery during funerals need to be dis-
couraged. They are not part of the Ghanaian foneral culture (Daily Graphic August
13, 1997, emphasis mine). Are they not? I have studied them as meaningful practices
shared by a majority of the local people, indeed, as a significant part of the Ghanaian
funeral culture. My concept of culture differs from what most Ghanaians under-
stand to be 'culture'. Often when I cold people in Bekwai that I carne to study their
culture, they immediately interpreted this as: 'ah, so you are taking lessons in drum-
ming and dancing?' For thern, culture can be kepr in the Cultural Centre in Kumasi
or stored in a museum. It can be performed during the biennial Panafest festival or
you can hire it to make a funeral more traditional. For some educated people with a
particular interest in tradition, culture was something to be studied from Rattray's
books. In this reinvention of 'traditional culture', culture and tradition are located
in the past, not in the daily practices of here and now. êflri tete, it comes from the
olden days, as the title of a Twi publication on Akan culture indicates (Twumasi-
Ankrah 1991). Where culture is still prevailing it is placed in clearly demarcated
niches of institutes, cultural groups and festivals, not in people's everyday practices
at every moment of their lives. I would, however, not see these different views of
I92 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA

'culture' as opposed views. Rather, the ways in which Asante people imagine and
define 'Asante culture', the ways in which they reconstruct it, struggle over ir,
embody it, enact it, teach it in schools and ~ommercialise it, from part of the whole
complex of practices and discourses by which people shape and give meaning to
their everyday life experiences. Glossary
The question, then, is not what culture 'is', but how culture 'works'. In their daily
practices of shaping individual lives and social relationships, people constantly work
out and transform culture. Local discourses of essentialising culture as well as the
conflicts over it, are part of this process of 'work-in-progress' that culture is. As I
Most of the words in this glossary are Twi words; some are corruptions ofEnglish words
have argued, in Asante, it is death that triggers this process of reworking culture
or English words with a specific local meaning. Following linguistic conventions, the
most prominently. But again, my view of funerals as presented here differs from how Twi words in this glossary are arranged by the first consonant of rheir stem, dropping the
Asante people themselves may see it. For thema funeral may not be a 'process of initia! vowel or the nasalised consonants 'rn' and 'n'. The spelling used is that of the
negotiation', a 'complex field of interaction', or a 'struggle over African moderniry'. Asante dialect.
It is rather a way of honouring their deceased mother or father, of dealing with feel-
ings of grief or ofliving up to social expectations. But it is the interactive practices of A

how to honour, and how to grieve, that show us that funerals are about life, about
Accra girls term used to refer to and to criticise city gids who come to a smaller
making sense oflife experience. And this everyday life is one of fluidiry, ambiguity
town (e.g. for a funeral) conspicuously dressed up to show off their
and cultural mixing, just as anywhere else in our contemporary world. A world that
metropolitan lifestyle.
offers people flows of new things and ideas every day and at the same time urges akpeteshi (Ga) locally distilled gin, made out of sugar cane juice or palm wine. Very
them to fixzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
some things to hold on to, by emphasising locality and blood, religion strong and very cheap and consequendy causing much drunkenness.
and group mernbership, by expressing life values and morals, indeed, by reworking
culture. B

Studying, (re)defining, and interpreting culture, then, is not the privilege or

obaapanin female eider, female head of an abusua or ether group of people, e.g. a
exclusive domain of the anthropologist. When we acknowledge that culture is not a
church society.
system 'out there' to be studied objectively by anthropologists, but is created in corn- bayerehemaa 'yam queen', the leader of all yam traders in the marker. Each com-
municative praxis between people, we also have to acknowledge that studying cul- modity group has its leader.
ture is taking part in this communication. As a participant in culrural interaction, bayie witchcrafr
the anthropologist not only shares present time and local space with his or her - 1bayifo1 witch
inreractors, but also brings his/her own cultural background, his/her own percep- aberewa old lady, woman in the period oflife when she does not have to or can-
tions and experience; they are indeed part of the same modernity, in a world of not work anymore and relies on others, especially her children, for
subsistence.
global connections and shared history, where nothing remains fixed and persons and
b1ga someone who has been to Europe, 'been-to'. Derives from Hamburger.
things are always in motion. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The large Ghanaian community in Hamburg has given rise to the cor-
ruption b1ga.
1bomam the devil, wizard, sorcerer
- obonsam kurom zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
'the devil's hometown', heli
bJ laif 'to hit life' or 'to make life', to be fashion conscious, to enjoy life.
Often heard in the context of visiting funerals.
obra / abrabs life in this world, existence, behaviour, conduct
brisie purple-brownish shining cloth imported from China. The type of
cloth bereaved people have to wear. During the final funeral rites it is
combined with red kobene cloth.
abuada (mourning) fast
I94 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Glossary
I95

iburoni white person

2. Asante staple food, made of pounded cassava and plantain or
- aburokyire 'behind the corn fields', the white rnan's country, Europe, America,
(coco)yam and served with soup. Not having taken.fa.fa is considered
anywhere outside (black) Africa. Aburokyire schnapps, gin imporred fasting.
from Europe, usually Dutch jenever. Widely used for ritual and social efanu corpse, body; stomach, belly
purposes, such as pouring libation and funeral exchanges. -efandahJ 'Iaying-in-srare' ceremony. Morning part of most funerals, roughly
abusua (marrilineal) family, lineage, all blood relatives on the mother's side. from 6 to ro am. Also ahodae
(pl. mmusua) Comprises both living and dead members. - efanu adaka coffin. Usually provided by the children of the deceased.
abusua kesee 'large family', matriclan. Also nton. - afansie burial, interrnent
abusuapanin head of the family zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA - afansoa 'carrying the corpse', traditional praccice to find the wicch responsible
for the death, outlawed by the colonial government
D
G
adaduanan period of forty days, fortieth day celebration. Occasion on which the
deceased's properry boxes are opened and a successor is chosen. After agyapadee property, heirloom, heritage
forty days the spirit of the deceased is believed to have left for
asamando. H
damirifa due phrase used to express pity towards a deceased person. Sometimes
translated as 'condolences', but it is only used to address the dead, not Jhene chief, king, stool occupant, head, leader. Often used as suffix, e.g.
the bereaved relatives. To them one can say (mema wo) yaako. Asantehene, the king of Asante, Dormaahene, the paramountchief of
deda to lay out, to lay in state. Usually the responsibility of the deceased's Dormaa.
children. - ahenfie chiefs palace
Jdehyee 'royal', blood relative of a stool occupant highlife popular Ghanaian music, developed from a mix of various indigenous
adekyeredee 'things to show', exhibition, items to be shown at a funeral, gifts by the rhythrns and Western music sryles, mostly sung in Twi. Ic is played at
in-laws to the bereaved family almost every funeral and many songs are about death.
adesiedee 'burial things', items to be buried with the deceased, may be presented ohoho» stranger, outsider, foreigner; guest, visitor
by a variery of relations
di adee to 'take things', to inherit K
- adedie succession
- JdedifoJ heir, successor, appointed by the abusua ka baabi
'to be left somewhere', to die
adosoa 'carrying love', presentation of gifts to the bereaved family by the kabablouse of a three-piece wornen's outfit. Corruption of the English
in-laws 'cover'. Traditional costume leaves one or both shoulders uncovered.
adowa traditional drum music performed at funerals. Nowadays also used for Highly subject to fashion and the object of much creativiry.
other occasions. kae to remember
- nkaee remembrance, memory, memorial
F akasakasa 'talk talk', quarrel, argument, dispute, 'unnecessary talking'
akatasoo 'cover clorh', third piece of clorh of a wornan's outfit, used to wrap
afehyiada anniversary, one year celebration. Often the occasion for unveiling the around the hips, to carry a baby on the back or to be worn as a turban
tomb. (mainly by unmarried women)
fekuo (kuo) group of people, association, society kente expensive hand-woven cloth of cotton and silk. Symbol of wealth.
efie house, household, home, uterine family group Often used to lay a dead person in state, especially an elderly person.
- si fie to build a house kete traditional drum music, especially for chiefs. Often played at funerals
- afiefoJ people of the house(hold) of royals.
- efiepanin head of the house kJbene plain red cloth, worn by bereaved family members during the final
- afiesem household matters, family matters funeral rites.
- efiewura owner or head of the house, land lord kJkJJ red, orange, reddish colours. Symbolic of danger, sorrow, seriousness,
fridge commonly used to refer to a mortuary zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
blood.
fafao 1. white, blue-and-white, ocher light colours. Colour of victory, (spir- akokoraa old man
itual) puriry, and joy
196 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Glossary 197

koroye unity, union. Often used to name voluntary associations, e.g. Kensere messages and news, a crucial and first part of a visit. It is also part of
Koroys Kuo. every funeral when the family comes together.
nkosoo development. Big concernof government and traditional chiefs. The - mmara law, rule, regulation
late Asantehene Oturnfuo Opoku Ware II was much praised for creat- -ayie mmara funeral bye-laws
ing the new chiefly office of nkosoohene, 'development chief', =hye mmara to make laws, legislation
okra 'soul' of a human being, given to each person as a 'goodbye gift' by mogya blood. Of the three elements that make up a person, mogya comes
Onyame (God) at birth from the mother. Mogya ties the abusua together.
- nkrabea destiny, 'place of the soul', manner of death
-kradin weekday name, 'soul' name. All persons bom on the same weekday are N
believed to share the kra of that day and are regarded as brothers and
sisters. nana grandparent; grandchild, descendant; respectful title used for chiefs
kra to say goodbye, to depart, to announce one's departure and queen-rnothers, elders, and ancestors
- nkradie farewell, (official) announcement of one's departure - nananom the elders, councillors; the ancestors
Kristosom worship of Christ, Christianity nnatootuie da celebration held one week after a death to remember the deceased and
- Kristoni Christian to plan for the funeral
kunafo1 widow(er) anibree seriousness, difficulry, sorrow, grief, distress
-kunaye widowhood rites - m'ani abre 'rny eyes are red', i.e. I am in serious trouble, I am seriously bereaved
kuntirehene chief of the kuntire division within the Asante political structure. Sec- anibue 'the opening of the eyes', civilisation
ond in rank to the (1man)hene and his deputy in case of absence or animonyam glory, honour
death. nntoomkoro type of traditional music often performed at funerals. A group of
kuntunkuni black dyed mourning cloth women sing songs accompanied by simple percussion. Sornetimes
kurom town; hometown. A person' s kurom is the town his or her family origi- combined with adowa drumming.
nates from, regardless of whether the person has ever lived there, Onyame God. Also Onyankopon
akuraa small town, village, harnlet, farm settlement. Also used derogatively in -Anyamesem the word of God, Bible
opposition to kurom, e.g. nkuraasejo», villagers, rural people, may have 1nyamesom worship of God, religion
the connotation of'bush people', 'backward people'. The phrase ioako
ne kuraase, he went to his village, is used as an euphemism for 'he is p
dead'.
nkwa life, vitaliry, vigour, health opanin eider. Respectful title for an elderly person who has achieved some-
kwan road, way; means, opportunity (pl. mpaninfo1) thing
- gya kwan to see off, to accompany. Also used to refer to performing a funeral as a apesie wake-keeping
way of seeing the deceased off.
- tu kwan to travel, to migrate. Also used to refer to the journey to the other s
world a deceased is going to make.
- 1kwantuni traveller, migrant nsa drink, liquor, alcohol; funeral donation
kyiakyia to greet (many people), to go round to greet everybody present (e.g. at - bo ma to donate money at a funeral
a funeral) - bo ma to be drunk
1kyeame often translated as 'linguisr', official spokesman of a chief. Chiefs - ma fafao 'white drink', palm wine, schnapps zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTS
adviser and specialist on traditional matters. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
- gu nsa to pour libation
saman ghost, ancestral spirit. nananom nsamanfoo, the ancestors
M - samansee deathbed wish, last will of a dying person
- saman tu/ennoen wandering ghost, not admitted to asamando and disturbing the living
amammere customs, laws, tradirions. From oman mmara= the country's laws. asamando the land of the dead; (in some bible translations) heli
oman country, state, nation, territorial division, 'traditional area', people, Asaase Yaa the female spirit of the earth, 'Mother Earth'
tribe asee (pl. menom) rnother-, father-, son-, or daughter-in-law, also including their fami-
=omanhene paramount chief zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA lies
amannee 1. culture, tradition, custom. From oman dee- 'the country's rhing'. aseda thanks (giving), official rendering of thanks to visitors after a funeral
2. mission, message. di/bJ amannee refers to the (official) exchange of asem word, story; problem, trouble; case, matter
198 Long live the dead! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Glossary 199

asetena living; 'sitting down together', used to refer to funeral gatherings clan are regarded as brothers and sisters, although the marriage taboo
ste to bury; to keep safe is nowadays not always adhered to.
- asieee cemetery, burial grounds · trotro minibus used for public transport within cities or over short distances.
siesie ho 'to decorate the body', to dress up Derived from tro, three pence, the original minimum fare on such
sika money; gold buses.
-Asika Dwa Kofi the Golden Stool bom on Friday, most powerful symbol of the reign Otumfao the Almighry, title used only for the Asantehene and for God
of the Asantehene and the uniry of the Asante kingdom. Believed to be tuntum black or other clark colours. Symbolic of power, the ancestors, God,
sent by the ancestors around 1700 and to contain the soul of Asante. history, change, destiny
sikafaturo zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
gold dust. Sometimes used on the skin of a dead 'royal' lying in state Tuiers Kronkron Holy Scriptures, Bible
- sika kJkJJ gold
- osikani rich person w
slit long tube skirt as part of a woman' s three-piece outfit. Combined with
kaba. auiaree marriage
sodoo the first time parents loose a child, also when this child is already - awareegyaec divorce
grown up. In case of sodoo there is no official funeral, no mourning au/erehoo sadness, grief
and parents wear white cloth. A sodoo death should be forgotten awiase (material, visible) world
quickly. - aioiasefoo people on earth, the living
asire church, denomination; mass, service awisia orphan
osoro heaven, sky, upper world - aioisiado large golden necklace given to the children of a deceased by their
soroku 'violent' dance and brass music performed by the youth upon the spouses as a sign of consolation
death of a young person wJja maternal uncle, mother's brother
stijf popular term used to refer to dead bodies wu to die
su to cry, to wail, to lament, to mourn owuo death
sunsum spirit. Received by a person from the father through his semen and - owuasJre funeral service in church
held to give a person his or her character or personality. - ouiuda the day of one's death
Also: shadow - awufoJ the dead

T y

te ase to live, to be alive ('to be down'); to understand ayie funeral, final funeral rites, whole series of events following a death,
- ateasefi» the living, human beings, rnortals state ofbeing bereaved, mourning
otemanmuhunu useless or worthless person, 'he stays in the country uselessly' - ayie ase funeral grounds
tete (bere) 'the olden days', immemorial times, remote antiquiry. Sometimes - ayie ase ka funeral debt
explained as 'before the white man carne'. -ayieduku black head tie
Also: old-fashioned - ayie kesee/pa final funeral rites, public celebrations usually performed on a Saturday
- atetesem zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
'matters of the olden days', tradition, history, legend -ayie ntoma mourning cloth, black, other dark, or red cloth
c t:J (ritual) dish made of mashed plantain or yam, mixed with palm oil, - ayiefoJ mourners, funeral goers, chose who attend a funeral
groundnuts and boiled egg. Believed to contain spiritual powers. - kJ ayie (ase) to go to a funeral
Eaten in case of sodoo. - nya ayie to be bereaved, 'to get a funeral'
xofoo someone who died shamefully, e.g. through an 'unclean' disease, suï- - ye (obi) ayie to mourn (somebody), to perform the funeral of a person
cide or in childbirth. Traditionally such a person was not granted a big
funeral; nowadays the distinction between good and bad deaths has
become blurred.
ntoma cloth, material. An indication of wealth and status. Dutch Wax espe-
cially is highly desirable, but very expensive. Ntoma is always included
among burial gifts and in other funeral exchanges.
nton matrilineal clan, group of people believed to descend from the same
(mythical) ancestor and thus share the same blood. Members of one

Notes
Notes with the lntroduction zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
1 From October 1995 to March 1996 in Kumasi and Trede, in August 1997 in Trede,
from J uly 1998 to March 1999 in Bekwai.
2 </;1000 was about $0.60 in 1998.
3 The Asante form part of the linguistically and culturally related Akan. Other Akan
groups include the Fante, Akuapem, Akyem, Kwahu, Brong, and several smaller
groups. The Asante are the largest and historically most powerful Akan group.
4 Cf. Bleek's clarifying and frank account ofhis fieldwork in Ghana, Kwahu (1978).
Notes with Chapter I
1 The actual action of laying the body out is always concealed behind curtains, just as
the action of putting the body in the coffin. The public ceremony in the family house
whereby the dead body lying in state is the centra! showpiece is commonly (hut
wrongly) referred to as 'laying-in-state'. That is why I have chosen to use this term in-
stead of the correct 'lying in state'.
2 In Twi the verb kra zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
means to say goodbye, to take leave.
3 Bart!e opts for the translation of saman as 'blood spirit', because it is different from
both the sunsum and the kra in its close association with the abusua (Barde 1983: 95).
4 In his study of urban migration in Kwahu, Bartle (1978) also describes the process of
life, death and rebirth as 'circular migration.'
5 Fufu is made of boiled and pounded cassava with plantain or cocoyam and is eaten
with sou p. It is the staple food of the Asante and not having taken fufu is equal to not
having taken a mea!. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
6 For an elaborate discussion of the translation of religious discourse see Meyer 1999a.
7 See for example Barber 1997; Fabian 1996, 1998; Meyer 1999b.
8 See for example Collins 1989, Coplan 1978, Sackey 1994 for detailed information on
the development of highlife.
9 See also the funeral songs quoted by Rattray (1927: 151-152).
IO See for example Stepdad or Ghost Tears.
II The pursuit of wealth by obscure means is a recurrent theme in many products of
popular culture, e.g. video films or concert party plays. See for example the video
movies Diabolo or The Prince of Doom, in which a 'snake-rnan' makes prostitutes
vornit dollar bills by having sex with them in the shape of a snake.
12 Adosoa is a public presentarion of gifts by the in-laws to the bereaved family. See
Chapter 2 and Chapter 4.
Notes 20I
Notes with Chapter 2zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVU
Literally Aburokyire means 'behind the corn fields'. It is usually translated as Europe,
1
but the term also comprises America, Asia, and even North Africa.
2 See Chapter 3 for a description of this rather boisterous funeral.
3 The name given to the house derives from the proverb aburuburo nkosua, adee a ebeye
yie mee, 'the eggs of a dove, things destined to succeed cannot be destroyed.' It is used
when a person or a rhing survives a crisis and in this case points to the hard struggle in-
volved in building the house. The practice of naming houses is common. Sometimes
this name is written on the house, sometimes it is just known and used in speech.
4 Odomankoma is a byname for God, usually translated as Creator, and refers to his in-
finiry and absoluteness (McCaskie 1995: 279). In this song, however, death is experi-
enced as more powerful than the Creator, as also expressed in the proverb Odoman-
koma b:JJ owuo ma owuo kum no, the Creator created death and death killed him.
5 The word ayie is used both to refer to the main, public funeral rites as to the whole of
ceremonies and practices and the genera! state of mourning following a death. To
specify the main funeral rites, the word kesee (big) or pa (proper) may be added.
6 It is believed rhat hair and nails contain the spirit of a person. They are also used in
magical practices directed at a specific person. A chief should wear sandals at all times
to prevent him from stepping on hair or nail parings that may !ie on the ground.
7 All names in this story are pseudonyms.
8 Also, people might fear that the person could make a last wish (samansee), which is
believed should be carried out by all means, or make any disclosures, which could be
embarrassing or problematic to the family.
9 The Ga and the Ewe usually wear white (i.e. blue-and-white wax print) when an old
person has died, not red and black. In Asante this is seldom clone. I experienced it
once in Bekwai, when an old and respected man had died. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSR
10 Adwenasa is the name of a particular kente weaving pattern. It means 'all ideas have
been used up' and refers toa story of a weaver who was ordered by the king to make a
kente cloth which was more beautiful than any existing kente design. He used all
known patterns and combined thern into one design, hence the name adwenasa. In
this context it also refers to the singer's dismay at the situation.
Notes with Chapter 3
I Usually it is the queen-mother who nominates a candidate from the royal family to
the kingmakers, who then accept or reject her choice. But because the queen-mother
had died and Nana Osei Kwadwo had not enstooled a new one yet, this dury feil in
this particular case on the shoulders of the head of the royal family.
2 That was the situation at the time I left Bekwai in March 1999. I read on the Internet
(www.ghanareview.co.uk) that in July and September 1999 new conflicrs over the
candidate nominated by the abusuapanin broke out. In October, however, a chief
was enstooled.
3 According to the Unofficial Ghanaian Dictionary (http// :www.ghanaweb.com/
GhanaHomePage/ghana/orcT), the word' boga' derives from Hamburger. The large
Ghanaian community in Hamburg has given rise to the use of the corruption boga
for any person who has been to Europe or the us.
4 Sjaak van der Geest, personal communication. See also Van der Geest lCJCJo.
202 Long live the dead ! zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
The categories 'city' (korum) and 'village' (akuraa) are nota fixed, binary opposition.
They are categories, however, that are meaningful for the people thernselves, but the
content depends on the situation and the'perspective, Bekwai for instance, may be
like a city from the perspective of the small rural villages. But for many people in
Kumasi and Accra, Bekwai is a backward village. When not used in an opposition,
the term akuraa may also refer to a very small hamlet or semi-permanent settlernent
in the farms, often far away from the (home)town. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
6 One way of dealing with this tension is the discourse of witchcraft and occult sources
of riches. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
In an interesting article about witchcraft in the Nigerian popular press,
Bastian (1993) describes how the conflict between village and city gives rise to mutual
witchcraft accusations between rural and urban dwellers. Witchcraft is the idiom to
talk about selfishness and wealth accumulation, about the complexity of rural-urban
relations in the modern society (cf. Geschiere 1997; Rowlands & Warnier 1988). For
the villagers, urban residents who do not share their supposed wealth are witches,
since accumulated wealth that does not circulate is anri-cornmunal. For the city
dwellers on the other hand, the witches are found in the village. They are the people
who jealously want to profit from their hard-earned money, while carefully watching
over rheir local power. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Notes with Chapter 4
'The olden days' (tete) is a notion held by local people. Sometimes it is explained as
'before the white man carne'. When I use the term Ido not mean to suggest a period
in which everything was stable and consistent, some kind of 'bottom line', after
which things started changing. It rather refers to people' s experience that at an earlier
(unspecified) point in history things were done differently from the way they are
done today.
2 In the Government Gazette No.728 of July 6, 1940 a detailed regulation of funerals
was published (Nana Annoh-Oprensem in a letter to the Daily Graphic ofJuly 25,
1998).
3 See also the newspaper article by Sodzi-Tettey quoted in Chapter 2.
4 During my fieldwork I was constantly pulled into this mora! debate. The first thing
people asked me when they knew I was studying funerals was whether I found thern
good or bad.
5 Kodjo Senah, personal communication.
6 There is a recent trend in Ghana to drop the customary public wake-keeping prior to
burial. Christian churches have banned wake-keepings and in Asante, traditional
rulers have incorporated the prohibition of holding wake-keepings among their
funeral bye-laws. I shall come back to this in the next two chapters.
Notes with Chapter 5
In Akan custom every person gets a name according to the day of the week on which
s/he is bom, a weekday name or 'soul name' (kra din). All persons bom on the same
week day are considered brothers and sisters (nuanom) in that they share a common
destiny (nkrabea) deriving from the 'soul' or 'spirit' of that particular day, to which
specific character traits are sometimes attributed.
2 For an elaborate discussion of Asante Catholicism see Obeng 1996.
Notes 203
3 The Akan term Jkyeame is usually translated as 'linguïst'. An akyeame is the official
spokesman of a chief, but also an important advisor to the chief and a specialist on
matters of 'tradition'. See Yankah 1995 for an extensive account of the role of
Jkyeame.
4 In (writren) biographies of deceased chiefs, however, their efforts to integrate Asante
tradition and Christianity are usually emphasised and praised (e.g. the biographies of
the Asantehene, Otumfuo Opoku Ware II, and the Dormaahene, Nana Agyeman
Badu II). The difference is that they never have a leading position in the church.
5 This practice is based on the Akan notion that persons bom on the same day have
something in common (see note 1, Chapter 5). I was told that the offertory in church
was named after the two main characters in a well-known reading book for schools, a
Friday-born boy, Kofi, and a Saturday-born girl, Ama.
Notes with Chapter 6
1 Fora derailed history of the Asante state in the nineteenth century, see Wilks 1975.
2 This war broke out after the British Governor Hodgson had demanded the Golden
Stool to sit on. The war was led by a woman, Yaa Asantewaa, queen-mother ofEjisu
and was later named after her. Although she was captured by the British and the war
was lost, it was won in mora! respect, because the Golden Stool, and thus the Asante
soul and spiritual unity, was saved.
3 Defined as 'the rnethods of rule which shall give the widest possible scoop to the
Chiefs and people to manage their own affairs under the guidance of the controlling
Power' (Sir F.D. Lugard, The Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa, quoted in
Rattray 1929: vii).
4 PRAA DG, Kumasi, ARG 11261212.
5 There was, however, no agreement among British administrators upon the question
as to whether witchcraft should be regarded as crime. While some subscribed to the
point of view stated above, orhers maintained thar since witchcraft was a reality for
the local people, it should be regarded as a crimina! offence (Meyer 1999a: 229, n. 16).
6 PRAA OG, Kumasi, ARG 1/26/3/12.
7 NAG, Accra, cso 21/ro/r4.
8 PRAA DG, Kumasi, ARG 1/26/r/67.
9 These regulations are not dared, but from the fact that a particular donation is
expressed in Ghana sterling pound I conclude that these proposed regulations must
date from after independence.
ro Wilks describes the nkwankwaa, translated as 'young men' or 'comrnoners', as 'the
men of well established families who did not have high expectations of attaining to
office or wealth' (1975: 728).
II Ghana Review International News on www.mcglobal.com/History.
12 In December 2000 J .A. Kuffour was elected president of Ghana.
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ARG 1/26/2/2, "Order of Suppression of the "Afunsoa" Custom"
ARG 1/26/3/3, "Native Jurisdiction and Bye-Laws"
ARG 1/26/3/12, "Consurnption ofLiquor at Funeral Custorns"
ARG 1/26/3'15, "List ofBye-Laws, Rules and Orders Passed by Native Authoriry in
Ashanti"

Discography

Nana Acheampong (1996), Huhuhuhu enye mehu. Düsseldorf: Mr. Loverboy

Productions.
African Brothers Band International led by Nana Kwame Ampadu 1 (1998), Special
Selections Volume One. New York: Unie Sounds /Productions.
Asante Brothers led by Osei Vasco, The best ofAsante Brotbers. Den Haag: Agyenim
Video Productions.
Alex Konadu 'One Man Thousand' (1998), Classic Highlife. Hamburg: Akuboat
Records.
Onyame Akwan Nwomkoro (1999), Otumfuo Opuku-Ware Il, Demirifa Due. Accra:
Lucky Sounds.
Nana Tuffour (1993), Genesis. Kumasi: Black 'M' Sounds.