“No. Stay here,” was the abrupt reply.
Ama went to her room. She was washing away the dust of the journey when she heard voices in the courtyard.
“Ama,” she heard Konadu Yaadom call.
“Nana, please I am bathing. I will come in a minute,” she called back.
The High Sheriff was waiting for her.
“You are called Ama?” he asked her.
“Yes, please,” she replied.
“I have orders to search you and your room. Nana, with your permission.”
Let them search, thought Ama as she waited. What could they find amongst our paltry possessions?
The High Sheriff stood chatting politely to Konadu Yaadom as his men conducted the search.
“What is this all about?” Konadu Yaadom asked him, knowing that Ama would hear.
“Nana, we have information that a quantity of gold has been stolen.”
The policemen emerged, one of them triumphantly holding a small leather bag in the air. He gave it to his master, who handed it to Ama.
“Open it,” the Chief said to her.
“I have never seen this bag before. It is not mine,” protested Ama.
“Open it,” he ordered again.
She untied the leather thong.
“Look inside,” he told her.
“Please, it is full of gold dust,” she said.
“You are under arrest. My orders are to take you straight to the Asantehene's court. You had better take your things with you. You may be away for a long time. Nana, with your permission?”
Konadu Yaadom nodded. Ama tried to catch her eye, but she looked away.
“Do as the man says,” was all she said.
* * *
The Great Court lay at the end of a broad colonnaded passageway in the innermost depths of the Palace.
It was surrounded on all sides by a gallery of plastered columns with shining ornamented bases.
Koranten Péte, Regent of Asante during the minority of the Asantehene Osei Kwame, sat on a raised platform. His wood and leather armchair was studded with brass and decorated with gold. It was shaded by the multicoloured royal umbrella. The ceremonial gold sword of war hung on the right of the chair, the sword of peace on the left.
Ama was hustled to a corner to await trial. Apart from her guards, no one paid any attention to her.
Koranten Péte was flanked, left and right, by nobles, important officials, generals, linguists, chiefs. Each of these was supported by retainers and each had his own umbrella, surmounted by a different gilded carving: a bird, a lion, a baboon. Before Koranten Péte sat court criers, every one of them deformed or maimed in some way and each wearing a monkey skin cap with a gold plate attached to the front and the tail hanging down behind. They created a constant buzz of noise with their cries of ‘Silence in the Court! Pray hear! Be quiet.’ Alongside them sat a squad of long-haired, bearded policemen, colleagues of Ama’s guards. From time to time they would add to the general hubbub by calling the praises of the young (and absent) King.
A new law was being proclaimed as Ama entered. The Chief Linguist recited it several times, once to each member of the royal family who was present and then to the whole assembly.
“It shall henceforth be illegal for any ambassador or messenger of the King, in any country of the realm, including tributary states, to demand food from the inhabitants, without first offering to pay a fair price.”
As the assembly was applauding the sense of justice and fairness of the young King, the Queen Mother entered, with her attendants. All, including the Regent, rose and remained standing until she had taken her seat. Esi, with Opoku Fofie on her back, took up a position within call. Ama waved to her friend, but one of the guards slapped her arm down.
The law was recited again for Konadu Yaadom to hear. There was fresh applause.
Then Ama was brought before Koranten Péte.
“The slave girl, Ama Donko,” said the prosecutor, “Is accused of stealing a bag of gold dust worth two peredwans, the property of her mistress, our esteemed and beloved Asantehemaa, Nana Konadu Yaadom, who is the owner of the girl. She returned only today from accompanying her mistress on a tour of her gold mines. It is thought that she might have acquired the gold there in return for certain favours to persons unknown. On receipt of information by the High Sheriff, her room was searched and the bag of gold was found.”
“Has the accused anything to say in her defence?” asked Koranten Péte.
Ama turned to look at her judge. She looked him straight in the eye. He returned her look without flinching. He knows I am innocent, she thought. He set this thing up this morning with Konadu Yaadom. It has nothing to do with this gold. It is about the boy, Kwame Panin, King Osei Kwame. He knows. That is why he sent Mensa to call Konadu Yaadom back to Kumase.
For a moment she was tempted to turn her back to him, face the assembly and tell them the truth.
“This case has nothing to do with a bag of gold,” she would say. “I am here because I am the lover of your King and because the Regent and the Queen Mother do not approve of our relationship.”
She wondered where the boy was, whether he was aware of these proceedings, whether he had done anything to try to save her. Probably not, she thought. Men are such cowards.
She thought, if I tell them all the truth, what will I achieve? They will surely find an excuse then to torture me as well as kill me. And the boy might also be made to suffer in some way.
She was still looking into the depths of Koranten Péte's eyes. It is you who brought me to Kumase, she thought, and now I am an embarrassment to you.
“I have nothing to say,” she replied.
“In that case, since you have stolen the property of Nana Asantehemaa, which is the property of the Asante state, the law requires that I sentence you to death,” said Koranten Péte.
“No, no!”
A cry rent the air. It was Esi. She stepped forward. Opoku Fofie started to bawl. Esi stopped as she reached Konadu Yaadom's chair and loosened the cloth which bound the child to her back, allowing him to slip gently onto his mother's lap.
Then she was standing beside Ama.
“It is not possible,” she said.
She spoke without waiting for permission, “I know Ama better than I know my own sister. It is impossible that she should steal. If the gold was found in our room, it must have been put there in our absence by some one who wants to be rid of Ama.”
Koranten Péte gave a sign to the High Sheriff. One of the police pinned Esi's arms behind her back while another put a gag in her mouth and tied it behind her neck.
“The court is adjourned for a short time,” Koranten Péte announced.
He rose and led the way to a private room behind the podium. Konadu Yaadom followed him. So too did the members of the Inner Council, the Minister of War, the Commander-in-Chief, the Minister of Finance and the Chief Executioner. As each rose, an attendant turned his chair or stool on its side.
There was a buzz of conversation in the court. Everyone present was clearly puzzled by this case. On the surface it seemed to be a trivial matter. Yet it was clearly of sufficient importance to merit a special private session of the inner cabinet.
“Esi, you fool!” Ama hissed, “Why did you have to get yourself embroiled in this thing?”
“Do you also want to be gagged?” a guard demanded of her.
Ama and Esi looked at each other silently. There was both love and sadness in that wordless exchange.
The councillors returned and the chairs were hurriedly set upright
“The pawn known as Esi, who took it upon herself to interrupt the proceedings of this court, is also sentenced to death,” announced Koranten Péte. “However, at the specific request of Nana Asantehemaa, who is to be commended for her compassion, both sentences are commuted to transportation. There is no place in Asante for these women. They will be sent to the coast and sold to the white men at Elmina.”
* * *
&nbs
p; The guard took Ama by the elbow.
He pushed her roughly through the doorway and left her in the dark room. She stood quite still. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that she was not alone.
“Ama,” said a voice she recognised, “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
It was Koranten Péte. He was sitting in an armchair. The only other furniture in the room was a stool. She did as he had directed.
Koranten Péte cleared his throat. Ama thought he sounded nervous..
“I know you did not steal that gold,” he said. “I had it planted in your room; and it was I who told the High Sheriff to have you searched.”
Ama said nothing. This was not news to her: she had already guessed as much.
“I am truly sorry that I have had to do this to you. I believe that you are not at fault, that you have simply been the victim of circumstances. In a sense, I am to blame. If I had not given you to Konadu Yaadom, this might never have happened.
“You must understand that Asante is more important than any single person. It is more important than me. It is also more important than you. Ama, you are being transported to the coast for reasons of state. I hope you will understand that.”
Ama did not reply. She was not really interested in what he had to say. She had already moved into the next chapter of her life.
“While you were away with Konadu Yaadom, Nana Asantehene came to speak to me. He had not been told that you would be leaving Kumase and he was distraught. He told me that he had seduced you. He said that he loved you and that he wished to make you his wife, not even his first wife, he said, but his only wife. I understand your position. Even though he is still a boy, he is the King and you are only a slave. I realise that you would have been afraid to resist his demands.”
In spite of herself, Ama was amused at Kwame Panin's brazen male impudence. So he seduced me! Ha! The boy was a virgin! If there was any seducing, it was I who did it.
“This is a critical period in our history,” continued Koranten Péte. “Osei Kwame is our King and at the same time he is not yet our King. He is much too young, ignorant and inexperienced to take on the heavy responsibilities of state. What we are doing, Konadu Yaadom and I, and others too, is to prepare him, to train and educate him. We all agreed that we could not allow you to supplant us as the major influence on him at this time. Some of the councillors would have had you summarily executed. Both the Queen Mother and I argued that that would make it extremely difficult for us to exercise any influence over the boy.”
So that is why you commuted my sentence, thought Ama. But still she said nothing.
“These matters are, perhaps, beyond your comprehension. However there is one simple matter which I have to make you understand. You must never talk to anyone of what passed between you and Osei Kwame. If you do, and if it should come to our ears, I have to warn you that your life would not be safe. Let me repeat what I have just said. Never speak of your relationship with Osei Kwame to anyone. If you do, you will be sealing your own death sentence. Do you understand?
“Ama, you will never see my face again. I would not like you to take your leave on such a harsh note. I cannot foresee what future awaits you. The white men will no doubt send you across the great water. I do not know what lies on the other side, but whatever it is, I wish you well.”
He rose and she followed suit.
“Will you shake my hand?” he asked as they came to the door.
CHAPTER 12
“In the beginning,” said the storyteller, “Onyame, creator of all things, made three black men and three whites. To each of these he gave a woman of the same colour. The six blacks were our first ancestors and the others were the ancestors of the whites.
“Onyame set before them two things: a large clay pot and a piece of paper, folded and sealed. Then he made them draw lots and, the black men winning, he gave them the first choice. They discussed the matter amongst themselves.
“The first said, ‘Of what use is a piece of paper?’
“The second replied, ‘None, and the pot is large; in it we shall surely find everything we need.’
“The third said, ‘Let us take the pot.’
“So they took the pot. But when they broke it open all they found was a piece of gold and a piece of iron.”
The story-teller paused to wet his throat.
“Now it was the turn of the white men. When they opened the paper and examined it they found it told them everything there was to know.
“Then Onyame gave this country to the blacks. Leaving them in the bush, he took the whites to the mouth of the great water and taught them to cut down trees and build a ship. When the ship was ready they boarded it and sailed away to a far country which Onyame had prepared for those who would select the paper.
“Many years later the descendants of the first whites returned to this country with goods to exchange for gold and slaves. It is from that paper that they had learned to make the goods.
“That is the end of my story.”
There was silence around the camp fire as the slaves and their guards reflected upon the significance of the tale.
“These white men,” Ama asked a guard who had become her friend and who sat nearby, “What are they like?”
“They are very tall, twice as tall as we are, and very ugly. They are so ugly that it hurts ones eyes to look at them. Indeed, if you look at them for too long, you are sure to become blind.”
Ama shuddered.
“What do they eat?”
“They eat all the things that we eat. Like us, they like meat best. But their favourite is human flesh.”
Ama started. She had heard this once before.
“I don't believe it,” she said.
“Well,” he replied, “When we reach Elmina you will see. And another thing: they like woman flesh pass man.”
Ama decided that he was having her on; but a small doubt remained in her mind.
“When will we reach Elmina?” she asked.
* * *
Kwadwo Akyeampong, the Asantehene’s ambassador, trade representative and rent-collector in Elmina, was waiting for them at Manso.
The town reminded Ama of Kafaba. The slave market was subdivided into fenced compounds, each with a few rickety sheds to provide a modicum of shelter from the elements. The slaves sat around, immobilised by chains and shackles, depressed, uncertain of what future awaited them. Traders from the coastal states would come and buy them. They would then take them south either for resale to the resident Europeans, who kept stocks in their dungeons, or to wait for a passing ship whose captain might come ashore looking for bargains.
Ambassador Akyeampong received no salary from his King but, provided that he met his obligations to Asante, he was free to enrich himself as he saw fit. So he also worked for the Dutch, collecting a commission on all purchases which he arranged for the Governor. When the demand was heavy, he would travel to Manso himself to meet a caravan.
He addressed the slaves, “You have already been sold to the Dutch governor, my friend De Bruyn. When you reach Elmina you will see the great stone castle there. None of you has ever seen a building of such size. On the coast, the strength of the Dutch is like that of their castle. In the whole country it is only Asante which is more powerful. The Dutch are our friends. Governor De Bruyn has asked me to tell you that if you behave well he will be your friend too and treat you well. If you are disobedient and rebellious, he will see to it that you experience the might of the Dutch King - on your backs.”
He flicked his wrist, miming the use of a whip, in case they did not understand.
“We leave at dawn tomorrow. We shall be in Elmina in three days.”
* * *
Kwadwo Akyeampong called a halt in the early afternoon.
They camped near a small village in the hills behind Elmina. The slaves were given soap and sent to bathe and wash their cloths in a stream and their heads were shaved.
“Why are you doing this to us?” Ama
asked the woman who was shaving Esi’s head.
“It is for the white man,” came the enigmatic reply.
Early next morning Akyeampong checked the inventory. Then they set off.
“Ama, look!” Esi exclaimed as they topped the crest of a hill.
A scene of the utmost strangeness and beauty presented itself to them. In the middle distance, row upon row of coconut palms; beyond the palms a strip of white sandy beach; beyond the beach, the great white-flecked expanse of the Atlantic bounded only by the curve of the horizon; above the horizon the paler blue tropical sky decorated with brilliant white fluffy clouds. The breakers rolled in upon the shore with a distant roar. Beyond the breakers, stretching far into the distance were canoes, some moved by sails, some stationary. In the canoes, they saw tiny figures.
“Is that the . . . ?” Ama asked the guard, her eyes and mouth open with wonder at the scale of it all.
Even on the open savannah in the dry season, one could not see so far into the distance. And out there there were no hills and trees to block the view. She had imagined that the great water would be like the Volta River, only wider.
The guard laughed, amused at the astonishment of this simple country girl, as he always was at the slaves’ first sight of the Ocean.
“That, my sister, is indeed the sea, the same sea of which we have spoken.”
“And you say that that is all water?”
“I do. But it is salt water, indeed so salty that if you try to drink from it, it will make you vomit.”
She looked at him. Not for the first time she suspected that this man was pulling her leg.
“Why would anyone want to put salt in it? There must be a lot of water there. Where would they get so much salt? Next you will be telling me that it is blue because someone has poured accassie into it.”
“No one put the salt into it. It has always been there. As for the colour, it is not caused by dye. That is just its colour, like green is the colour of plants. Except that in the rainy season, when there are storms, its colour can change to a kind of green, too.”
Ama thought, there is much here that I do not understand. The guard looked at her curiously. He thought, this is a strange girl, with all her questions.
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