Museums and Mausoleums

Everything was going so well - work was great (just started a research project for Ghana's first President Kwame Nkrumah's centenary), I'd finally got my head around riding the trotros, I even haggled for stuff in the market...then, on Thursday, I was struck down by an extremely unpleasant bout of food poisoning.  Despite all my caution and alcohol handwash, it goes to show that sickness in Accra is all down to luck - but I'm not sure I'll be able to face tilapia, rice and lager for quite a while.  I spent much of Friday lying in bed, apparently a very funny colour, feeling sorry for myself.  By the evening I was well enough to drink some water and rehydration salts and discovered, in a pile of DVDs in our lounge, the perfect tonic - Bridget Jones' Diary.  I awoke on Saturday a little sore but considerably better.

I was relieved to recover so quickly because we had some serious plans for this weekend!  On Saturday morning I went with two friends, Eric and Minsoo, to do some cultural stuff.  We headed for the National Museum of Ghana where one of the other volunteers, Amy, is currently working.  It is a 60s modernist structure and from the inside is potentially an impressive space, with a large rotunda-like space and adjoining galleries.  The collection is clearly rich in archeological pieces as well as examples of Ghana's broad visual cultures.  The text panels, however, are distracting consisting of dense paragraphs which don't appear to elucidate on the objects but dwell on amorphous concepts of inter-cultural exchange, etc.  What I was looking for was some history but what I got was vague discussion.  There's no getting away from the fact that many of the objects on show (even if their display is a little ramshackle) are sublime.  The museum has a large collection of Ife bronze heads, for example and, given my work at Nubuke, I was happy to see Asafo flags on display.  

Without doubt the most amazing piece of all, however, was Kwame Nkrumah's ceremonial seat from the day in which he signed the constitution of the First Republic of Ghana.  A faded, but still glorious, red, green and gold chair with a seat of red leather and adjoining footstool, it sits slightly obscured by a staircase, like a footnote in the museum.  That this was not on a pedestal or in a glass case astounded me.  Indeed Western mores about not touching objects in museums does not apply in Ghana and the result is that objects of national and historical importance, such as this, seem to have deteriorated far quicker than they should have done.  Anyway, Amy and I had a long discussion about museum practice here and its made me realise that the Nubuke Foundation - with its tagline 'record, preserve, protect' - is truly unique, most notably in that it had money (albeit private funding).  The question is then raised as to whether Nubuke is positioning itself as the more equipped guardian of Ghanaian culture or if it has any intention of working in partnership with public institutions such as the National Museum - a question I am sure to ask Kofi this week.

After the museum we headed to Kwame Nkrumah National Park, where Nkrumah's body is interred. A leafy space on the waterfront, with trees recently planted for the Golden Jubilee in 2007, the Park was deserted except for a wedding party having photographs taken in front of the mausoleum structure.  The latter is the shape of a tree stump, evoking the notion that Nkrumah's life was cut short.  There is an adjoining museum in which Nkrumah's various things - from his overcoat to his walking cane and his books to the school trunk - were preserved.  The walls were covered in photographs from Nkrumah's life and, in particular, of all of the key people he met.  Seeing Cassius Clay ('Muhammed Ali') standing proudly in front of an Nkrumah statue reinforced any notion I had of how internationally momentous it was to see a African proclaimed as head of state.  The photograph of Nkrumah dancing with a young Queen Elizabeth was also pretty amazing to see and his portrait with Fidel Castro reminded me just how ridiculously old the latter is.

So after imbibing much history and culture we made a bee-line for a Fan Ice truck (possibly the most amazing vanilla ice cream) and then started to head back to the house.  Rest was needed because latter on Saturday afternoon we jumped on a tro-tro and headed for Kokrobite....the legendary location of the all-night reggae party (I'll save that for the next post).