{"id":1157,"date":"2021-03-06T14:28:01","date_gmt":"2021-03-06T14:28:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/udbjorg.wordpress.com\/?p=1157"},"modified":"2026-02-07T23:54:57","modified_gmt":"2026-02-07T22:54:57","slug":"nene-osai-den-sjette-en-yilo-krobo-hovding","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/?p=1157","title":{"rendered":"Nene Osai den sjette &#8211; en Yilo Krobo h\u00f8vding"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/nene-david-udbjoerg-den-1.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/nene-david-udbjoerg-den-1.jpg?w=1024\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2606\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Nene Osai 6 &amp; Nene David 1<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>I can\u2019t quite remember how we first made contact with the Yilo\u2013Krobo people\u2014most likely through the friendship association Krobodan, which had done projects with the Krobos before. I knew a couple of folks from that group, so even though they didn\u2019t come along on our visit, they probably brokered the introduction. Smede refused to join\u2014he didn\u2019t think it sounded remotely exciting. Odd, because he usually elbowed his way to the front whenever adventure was in the air. But that day he declared he\u2019d rather go look at old motorbikes. And so it was just Lars, Matthew, and yours truly who set off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>By then, we\u2019d already bought a car for Matthew, which meant we finally had reliable transport for exploring the country. We drove up to Koforidua, the main town in the Krobo Hills, a couple of hours inland from Accra. We\u2019d arranged to meet the mayor outside the local police station at precisely ten o\u2019clock. To be safe, we left home at an ungodly hour and still arrived a full hour early\u2014plenty of time to poke around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>There wasn\u2019t much that felt new. We were already saturated with the everyday markets\u2014endless flip-flops, fish, vegetables, ever-present chickens, and everything in between. The Koforidua market added another verse to a song we already knew by heart. The town itself was a mix: mostly one-storey buildings, a few courageous two-storey ones; the \u201ccivilized\u201d houses poured in concrete; and some older ones in clay, later smothered with a skim of cement render and painted\u2014a universally bad idea, but people have to try a thing before they learn not to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The Minister of Works and Housing\u2014whom I\u2019d met earlier\u2014was right: you can build excellent houses with earth. But there\u2019s a stubborn social barrier. Try persuading ordinary families to live in \u201ccheap\u201d materials, and you immediately hit status. Even the poor don\u2019t want to be seen in clay houses because clay is read as poverty. Hence the fashion for wrapping earth walls in cement mortar. It looks crisp for a moment, then the bond fails, and the fa\u00e7ade drops off in large, sulky flakes. Add to that a general reluctance\u2014across much of Africa\u2014to spend time on maintenance, and an early patina turns to ruin with depressing speed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As an architect, the whole thing kept scratching at me. How do you spread the good word about earth blocks? I began thinking: don\u2019t start at the bottom with the poorest families; start at the top. Build a grand villa for the most powerful man in town. Let him brag\u2014relentlessly\u2014about how inexpensive it was. Host screenings showing the making of the blocks, serve punch, parade the machinery, and mix praise with shameless swagger. Layer in some very practical education about what the cement industry is trying to sell you: materials that cost ten times more yet often deliver worse indoor climates. Earthen buildings can last millennia\u2014there are examples in Africa that have stood for over five thousand years. Hard to argue with that. And remember: at that time, roughly 90 percent of all buildings in Africa were made of unbaked earth. But because there aren\u2019t big profits in clay, there isn\u2019t much interest. Convincing people to return to earth would be an uphill slog\u2014on several fronts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We\u2019d come to Koforidua in the hope that the mayor we were due to meet would understand this line of thinking\u2014and embrace \u201cEse Ne Tekrema,\u201d the Adinkra symbol for friendship. We knew he\u2019d worked well with the Danish friendship group. At ten on the dot, a young man approached us and introduced himself as Joshua. He was a trained teacher and served as the right hand to Nene Osai VI. He reassured us that \u201cthe chief\u201d was on his way and that we\u2019d all go to the village together. A village? That was news to us\u2014and frankly sounded far more interesting than a formal audience at the police station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Joshua told us he\u2019d helped set up an internet caf\u00e9 so local youth could learn computers. This was around the year 2000, when the internet in much of Africa was still an infant. Two young Danes, placed through Krobodan, joined our little party. Then a young \u201cprincess\u201d arrived\u2014she\u2019d studied at Silkeborg H\u00f8jskole in Denmark and proudly produced a diploma for us to admire (I\u2019m ashamed to say I\u2019ve forgotten what the diploma was in). At last, the chief arrived. He was around sixty, a striking figure in mirrored sunglasses, crisp white shirt, good trousers and shoes\u2014style without trying. Even his voice had poise: quiet, considered, with nothing wasted. He chose me as the object of his attention, which suited me fine, and we fell into an easy conversation. He spoke openly about the Krobos and his own history, from present day back to the era of the slave trade. I told him it was a sorrowful chapter in Denmark\u2019s past\u2014one we\u2019re still ashamed of.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He stopped, took my arm to stop me too, peered over his sunglasses, and said: the African peoples had long fought one another for land, power, cattle, and women\u2014long before the white man showed up. Arab traders came by regularly and took away the men who hadn\u2019t been killed. In return they brought jewelry, weapons, cloth, other valuables. \u201cTwo birds with one stone,\u201d he said: you rid yourself of enemies and gain riches. \u201cThe white man did not invent slavery\u2014we did that ourselves. The whites just made it easier, and we killed fewer.\u201d When an African chief tells you such things, who am I to contradict him?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Nene was broadly learned, and he was keen for us to do the project with him and the Yilo\u2013Krobo. Had we met him first, we might have done exactly that. As it was, the best we could offer was to explore test builds in his area. He lit up at the idea and suggested weaving it into a broader social project: we could supply blocks to build a school first, and later a clinic and perhaps a local council office near the village. He\u2019d provide land and willing hands\u2014people eager to learn both how to operate the machines and how to build. I kicked myself that we couldn\u2019t simply say yes on the spot. But reality is a stubborn travel companion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We started with a tour of Joshua\u2019s internet caf\u00e9\u2014a small shopfront of about twenty-five square meters, four desktop computers, and a single phone line for internet. It wasn\u2019t good, but it half-worked half the time, and better connections were supposedly coming to Koforidua. It was enough to justify investing in more lines. Joshua\u2019s drive to help his community impressed us. He even gave us a book he\u2019d written about the Krobos\u2014an excellent primer on their unique culture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After that we drove out to some plots where Nene thought we might build the school and other structures. We surveyed the land and poked around for suitable materials, but nothing obvious jumped out. Eventually, we parked down a side road off a side road. From there, the village was an hour\u2019s walk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We felt a bit like Dr. Stanley and his bearers, threading a narrow path through the bush: downhill into tall grass, a patch of scrub, more tall grass, a little stream crossed by tiptoeing over stones, mud in the sandals, then back onto firm ground and up again\u2014until we stepped into a grove of palms: oil palms and bananas. On one side stood the classic round huts with thatched roofs, the kind you see across much of sub-Saharan Africa. On the other side were more rectangular houses\u2014earth walls with corrugated steel roofs. At the far end, on a small rise, stood a more \u201cmodern\u201d building\u2014earth or perhaps concrete block, but certainly finished with a cement render and later limewashed with colored lime. A central recess formed a terrace where everyone gathered. This was where Nene and his wife stayed when they weren\u2019t in town\u2014their country house, if you like\u2014surrounded by the people they worked for and loved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We were invited up to the terrace for tea and biscuits. On the pink wall hung a map of Ghana, flanked by a large painted sign reading \u201cK\u00f8ge og Omegns Ghana Venskabsforening.\u201d Surreal\u2014those Danish letters painted on a wall in the Krobo Hills, miles from anywhere. There were also wonderful old photographs of Nene\u2019s ancestors, which of course I photographed as souvenirs. Once refreshed, we were led down into the original village\u2014the ring of huts\u2014to see the women\u2019s craft. The Krobos are famed for their jewelry, especially their glass beads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\">The bead kiln<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><a href=\"https:\/\/udbjorg.wordpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1600\" height=\"1200\" src=\"https:\/\/udbjorg.wordpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113.jpg?w=1024\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-1161\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113.jpg 1600w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113-1024x768.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070113-1440x1080.jpg 1440w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1600px) 100vw, 1600px\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">The Bead Kiln<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>Their technique is marvelous. They crush waste glass into a fine powder and use round clay plates\u2014about the size of a lunch plate\u2014perforated with bead-sized depressions. In the center of each depression they place a tiny piece of cassava stalk. The plates dry hard in the sun. Then, with great patience, they fill each little cup with layers of colored glass powder. When the plates are full, they go into a squat, round clay kiln that looks a bit like a small pig with a front hatch. A fire is lit beneath, and the glass melts and then cools into beads. The cassava pith burns away to leave a neat hole for stringing. Each family has its own patterns. The beads become belts, necklaces, bracelets\u2014and, depending on the motifs, signal a girl\u2019s status: marriageable or married. I\u2019m hazy on the exact codes, but among the Yilo\u2013Krobo the traditions are strong. Watching the process was genuinely thrilling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\">David and the pot<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><a href=\"https:\/\/udbjorg.wordpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1600\" height=\"1200\" src=\"https:\/\/udbjorg.wordpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117.jpg?w=1024\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-1163\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117.jpg 1600w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117-1024x768.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/p4070117-1440x1080.jpg 1440w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1600px) 100vw, 1600px\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Nene David the first &#8211; tender<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>In courtyard after courtyard, ringed by huts, we also saw enormous cooking pots filled with a vividly red, oily soup\u2014almost certainly something with palm nuts, which give that color. To be honest, it looked a bit revolting, but the scarlet sheen against the blackened, hulking cauldron was striking, and it sparked memories of Magnus and all my tall tales about my \u201cfriend the cannibal chief.\u201d Now here I was, with not only a chief as a friend but also a perfect photo opportunity: me standing behind the pot so it looked like I was stewing in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>By the time we finished the village tour, we assumed the day was done. We\u2019d discussed what needed discussing; we\u2019d seen what there was to see. Not so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Joshua came over, suddenly more solemn. His voice turned formal. Nene, he said, was waiting for me up on the terrace. That alone felt a touch theatrical, but we followed Joshua, who made a point of walking ahead. On the terrace, Nene was already seated. Three chairs had been placed in front of him\u2014for Lars, for me, and for Joshua. We were told that what would follow was something special. He couldn\u2019t say more yet, but we\u2019d know soon enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Nene had shed his everyday clothes and changed into what can only be called chiefly regalia: a great drape of cloth like a thin blanket wrapped around his body, patterned in striking black and white, leaving one shoulder and arm bare\u2014so you saw the strength in him. Despite his years, he looked forty. On his feet, red leather sandals with gold plates; on his head, a many-colored cap\u2014a flattened fez of sorts. A simple necklace of black glass beads at his throat, a broad gold ring on his hand. He sat perfectly still and let Joshua speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Joshua announced that he was no longer acting as himself but as the chief\u2019s \u201clinguist,\u201d the official voice and ear of the stool. Under no circumstances were we to address Nene directly; we would speak to Joshua, who would interpret for the chief in the local language. Likewise, Nene would speak only to Joshua, who would relay his words to us in English. Did we understand? We nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He began with a long prelude: Nene was honored that we had come to Koforidua and that we were willing to help his people progress and improve their circumstances. He hoped we would become ambassadors for the Yilo\u2013Krobo and continue to assist them in future. Nene asked whether we would accept that role. We said yes\u2014gladly\u2014and promised that, as far as possible, we would keep the Krobos in mind in our Ghana work. Nene acknowledged this with a slight nod and a smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The two then conferred softly in their own language. Lars and I listened, none the wiser, and waited. Joshua straightened, looked at me, and said that Nene had decided to give me a name: Nene\u2026 Nene David the First of the Krobo people. Would I accept? Of course I would. I said it was a deep honor and that this bond would bring the Krobos closer to my heart\u2014and responsibilities\u2014going forward. It felt immense then, and it still feels immense today. They told me it was too late that day to hold an installation ceremony, but if I gave them good notice before my next visit, they would stage a full initiation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/nene-david-udbjoerg-den-1.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/nene-david-udbjoerg-den-1.jpg?w=1024\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2606\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Nene Osai 6 &amp; Nene David 1<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>I can\u2019t recall whether Lars received a title as well; perhaps he did. Sadly, that turned out to be our last trip to Ghana, so we never returned for the ceremony. And Nene Osai VI is gone now\u2014he rests with his ancestors, alongside his wife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Years later, I was asked\u2014on an entirely different errand\u2014to collect two Ghanaians from Ringsted Station. I\u2019d never met them. They shook my hand warmly and called me \u201cNene.\u201d I wondered how on earth they knew\u2014but said nothing and simply smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I can\u2019t quite remember how we first made contact with the Yilo\u2013Krobo people\u2014most likely through the friendship association Krobodan, which had done projects with the Krobos before. I knew a couple of folks from that group, so even though they didn\u2019t come along on our visit, they probably brokered the introduction. Smede refused to join\u2014he [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3902,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1259],"tags":[76,80,81,84,86,94,113,120,124,134,188,231,237,253,260,264,280,281,296,300,311,320,326,349,350,376,393,395,413,423,446,447,477,496,500,512,555,606,612,661,662,672,674,675,676,680,689,702,708,723,730,733,746,776,808,819,832,835,859,922,924,963,968,987,1011,1019,1043,1046,1063,1064,1072,1076,1077,1090,1103,1112,1147,1164,1201,1208],"class_list":["post-1157","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-ghana","tag-accra","tag-adinkra","tag-adobe","tag-adventure-narrative","tag-adventure-travel","tag-africa-architecture-debate","tag-anthropology","tag-appropriate-technology","tag-architecture-in-africa","tag-artisanship","tag-beadmaking","tag-building-with-earth","tag-bush-walk","tag-cassava-stem","tag-cement-vs-clay","tag-chieftaincy","tag-clay-kiln","tag-clinic-project","tag-community-development","tag-compressed-earth","tag-council-office","tag-cross-cultural-friendship","tag-cultural-exchange","tag-danish-colonial-history","tag-danish-friendship-association","tag-digital-literacy","tag-earth-blocks","tag-earthen-architecture","tag-ese-ne-tekrema","tag-ethnography","tag-fez-cap","tag-field-expedition","tag-friendship-symbol","tag-ghana","tag-glass-beads","tag-gold-ring","tag-hospitality","tag-initiation-ceremony","tag-internet-cafe","tag-koforidua","tag-koforidua-market","tag-krobo-beads","tag-krobo-hills","tag-krobo-people","tag-krobodan","tag-land-access","tag-leadership","tag-linguist","tag-local-cuisine","tag-maintenance-culture","tag-market-life","tag-materials-sourcing","tag-mirrored-sunglasses","tag-naming-ceremony","tag-off-the-beaten-path","tag-oral-history","tag-palm-grove","tag-palm-nut-soup","tag-personal-transformation","tag-red-sandals","tag-regal-attire","tag-round-huts","tag-rural-village","tag-school-project","tag-slave-trade-history","tag-social-status-and-housing","tag-storytelling","tag-sub-saharan-africa","tag-sustainable-building","tag-sustainable-materials","tag-tea-and-biscuits","tag-terrace-meeting","tag-thatched-roofs","tag-traditional-crafts","tag-travel-memoir","tag-trekking","tag-unforgettable-journeys","tag-village-life","tag-womens-crafts","tag-yilo-krobo"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/nene-wp.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1157","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1157"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1157\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4658,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1157\/revisions\/4658"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3902"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1157"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1157"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.udbjorg.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1157"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}