Dear Osagyefo,
I hope the peaceful rhythms of Asamando are treating you well, because over here in the Midwest, the drums have been beating so loudly they might have woken the ancestors. I am writing to you straight from Chicago, where the Asanteman of Chicago and the Midwest decided to remind the white man’s land exactly what royalty looks like.
Over the weekend, they enstooled their new chiefs including Nana Kwame Abayie and the Ohemaa Nana Afia Duruwaah Nhyira. To ensure everything was done with absolute customary precision, the Otumfuo sent a heavyweight representative: Akwamfuo Asafo Boakye Agyemang-Bonsu, the head of the Akwamu Division of the Kumasi Traditional Council.
Osagyefo, it was a masterclass in organization, a pure explosion of pomp, pageantry, and rich culture that has officially raised the bar as the event of the year. I rate it a solid 4.95 out of 5.
Day One was a sight to behold. Everyone was dressed like kings and queens, and the air was thick with majesty. The atmosphere was elevated by the recital of gripping traditional poems and appellations, or apae, which shook the hall and traced the glorious lineages of our people. Then came the unexpected thrill of the masquerade dance a vibrant, swirling spectacle of color and coordinated mystery that had the crowd cheering. But the true emotional peak was when Nana Abayie was lifted shoulder-high after swearing the sacred oath. It struck me with a sudden wave of pride; with all this modern democracy we preach today, it is easy to forget that long before the white man ever set foot on our shores, our ancestors had already perfected a grand, sophisticated system of governance.
Of course, no grand gathering of the Republic is complete without proper safeguarding, and the organizers thought of everything. The Ghana Nurses Association of Chicago was fully stationed on the ground, uniforms crisp and ready to handle any health needs or sudden spikes in blood pressure from all the excitement and dancing. It was comforting to know that while we celebrated the traditions of the past, the frontline healers of the present were watching over us.
Yet, as grand as the chieftaincy was, the absolute star of Day One, or so I thought at the time was the koko and koose lady stationed outside the premises. Osagyefo, you should have seen the diaspora boys. They converged on that joint, devouring the hot corn porridge and bean cakes with such relish that for a few glorious moments, the entire gathering completely forgot they were abroad. It tasted like home.
Day Two shifted from traditional majesty to pure class with the Kente dinner dance. It was a rare, beautiful sight, a sea of handwoven Kente spinning under the ballroom lights to the sweet, nostalgic sounds of yesterday’s years. Amakye Dede’s tunes were playing low in the background, and even the foreigners in attendance were swaying along during the Kente dance, totally captivated by the culture. There was good food and an open bar, though the true Chicagoans in the room did whisper a small prayer for a bottle of Yellow Tail wine, which was conspicuously missing.
Now, I must correct the ledger on the timing of the feast: the kitchen was actually blameless and stood ready to serve with military precision. Instead, it was the guests who arrived late, operating on that most traditional of timetables. Because the ballroom filled up well past the scheduled hour, dinner was naturally pushed back.
And that, Osagyefo, is how the koko and koose lady outside earned her status as a national savior for the early birds, claiming the remaining 0.05 points on my rating scale.
As I rushed outside to salvage my stomach while waiting for the latecomers to settle in, I literally crashed into a white man and his entire family standing right there at the koose joint. Apparently, the pre-dinner hunger had spared no one, and they too were looking for something to munch on. I watched them eyeing the spicy bean cakes, and a deeply protective instinct rose within me. I looked at them and thought, “You have already taken our gold, our land, and our brains… but you will not take my koko and koose!” It was a magnificent weekend. Cheers to Asanteman, , cheers to the organizers who pulled off this flawless showcase, and a grand cheers to Nana Abayie for a truly historic enstoolment. We have shown them that even in the freezing winds of the Midwest, the fire of the golden stool burns as bright as ever.
So long,
Ato_KD
More Pictures Later
