We took off from Bonyere and headed towards Beyin. Beyin is where my mother was born. Along the way, I got a family history lesson. How come I never knew that my father was actually born in Allengunzule or that my mother lived in Mpataba between the ages of 6 and 17? All along, I knew “Daddy is from Bonyere and Mama’s father is from Tikobo number 2 but she was born in Beyin and spent her early years in Bassam (Côte d’Ivoire).” In fact, I had never heard the names “Allengenzule” or “Mpataba” before this trip. I requested a pit-stop at Mpataba just to see the village and home my mother grew up in. She hadn’t been back in all these decades can you believe it? Meanwhile, they drive by it every time they go to Nzema!
Anyway, back to Nzulezo. This small village is entirely built on stilts using wood and raffia palm. It sits in the middle of Lake Amansuri which boasts an ecosystem of rare flora and fauna. It is the largest intact swamp forest in Ghana. It can only be reached by canoe. We chose to do the 5km ride with a motorized canoe instead of paddling to save on time. Since in March we are well into the dry season, we had to walk further in to reach water high enough for a canoe to navigate. If you ask my parents, they would say we walked almost all the way. Haha! They were not pleased at all! So be forewarned. The rainy season is April to September thereabouts. Plan accordingly. Still, once we made it into the water it was lovely. The mangrove forest just fell to the side and we were in open water in no time. I would have much preferred the leisurely paddling option. I’m sure it would have been more serene than listening to the sound of the motor, VROOOOOOOM.
Once at Nzulezo we were given a tour. I don’t think we are the ideal tourists. My parents are Nzema and have been there before. Also they are old thus have no reason to use a filter. They criticised often and healthily. When the guide switched to Nzema they would tell him to speak in English because we paid as tourists to come visit. I preferred when he spoke Nzema, not that I understood all that he was saying, but because he couldn’t express himself as well in English. We bought no souvenirs. When we met with the village chief to hear about the history of the village, we challenged his story. When it came time for the “optional donations” (the real reason to meet with the village chief) to help the local school (which seems to be the draw) we asked how the donation from a few months back (when my sisters visited) had been put to use. They couldn’t find the entry in the exercise book they use as a ledger so we sat discussing the issue of “training the local boys and girls to become teachers instead of relying on Ghanaians from elsewhere reluctantly doing their one year public service in this remote village”. They never found the entry. Turns out there were several pages missing. I guess people tear blank pages from the book, leaving loose sheets that eventually fall out and get lost. So, more criticism from the parents. I asked what happened to the tour fees that we paid at the kiosk before making the trip to Nzulezo. I was told that the Ghanaian tourism board takes the majority of it. Now that’s not right!
Nzulezo is about 500 people strong. Local legend says about 400 years ago their ancestors followed their god, which appeared to them in the form of a snail, from the ancient Ghana empire, now in modern-day Mauritania/Mali. On the lake they were protected from attack from slave traders and other ethnic groups. They made it a point to say that on the lake they were protected from fire. Their god, put them into the care of the water god. So there is a shrine to the water god and fishing is not allowed on Thursdays, a holy day. If you are menstruating, you are not allowed to cross the lake.
In his An Account of the Gold Coast of Africa (1812) Henry Meredith describes a small village whose bamboo cane houses are erected in a “very fine lake of fresh water” located about three miles inland from Fort Apollonia. He writes that the original inhabitants “are said to have been composed of disaffected and ill-disposed persons, who emigrated from their native country Chamah, a small state some distance eastward of Apollonia”. The King of Apollonia “first refused them any indulgence” but they persisted and “at length, the King allotted to them a small spot of ground adjoining to the lake, but told them they must not build upon it, but endeavour to erect houses in the lake, so as to be secluded from his subjects”. So there you have it.
Nzulezo consists of one central walkway and on each side are “streets” each being a family unit. In addition to the shrine of the water god, there are three churches of different denominations. Three! My goodness. At the end of the walkway is the school. When we visited the children were on break. Some were swimming in the lake. Others were in the computer lab/library. Apparently, when it gets really dry, they can play football. The school offers only primary education so secondary school pupils must canoe out to the mainland. I wonder if that includes menstruating girls. Hmmmm!
You would think that for a village on water the main occupation would be fishing, but no, they are farmers. Fishing is secondary. The village has several acres of land nearby where plantain, pineapple, cassava and palm are cultivated both for personal consumption and for sale at the Beyin market. Palm wine and akpeteshi (local gin) from the raffia palm are apparently of the best in Ghana.
I enjoyed the trip. I enjoyed spending time with my parents, us together, and without my sisters! I enjoyed their bickering and criticisms. Harsh yes, but always based on truth. I enjoyed the canoe ride and as I mentioned before would do it again with a paddle-canoe. In fact, I would love an Amansuri Wetlands tour that included bird-watching and the like. In terms of the village itself, I didn’t like strolling through as people lived their lives. It felt like I had just opened their front door and walked right through. I do think the Ghana Tourism Board should spend a significant amount of their income from this site on the villagers whose lives are interrupted often by tourists.
A lover of mangoes. A woman - smart, without pretense, lefthanded, Afropolitan - navigating this thing called life. An unapologetic believer in social justice and karma. Choosing to radiate positive energy and be true to myself. Here, my musings.
My Dad (your grandpa) spent some childhood years at Nzulezu and used to recount how those years sharpened his swimming skills. Mangrove swamps are so important to our ecosystem and hopefully city tourists do not end up tossing their plastic garbage into them. Thanks for sharing.