I would like to amend my last post: the other day I saw Ama giving the dogs food and attention. I have also named the dogs: Bosco and Sal. I will post pictures later.
The best part about this country is that you can't think. I was feeling homesick when I left the internet the other day, then went out and got completely lost (as per usual) and was helped by so many random people on the street. One woman, after speaking to my host mother, almost got in a cab with me (baby on the back) to make sure I made it home. I told her I could make it, and thanks very much. I had completely forgotten about feeling homesick, and when I spoke to my mother that evening I was able to laugh with her instead of mope.
Kumasi has been a great experience. We have started dance classes (what other program offers this awesome-ness?!) and it has been a blast.
We also had one of the most out-of-this-world experience at a shrine the other day. It was an introduction into traditional religion and none of us knew what was coming. We met the priestess (Nana) who didn't speak english and so everything needed to be translated. After introductions and some minor dancing, she went on her own to call on the spirit for possession.
The next time we saw her what greeted us was a spirit from the North. We were told this because "he" greeted with "Kubi kubi!" and shook with his left hand, a practice only in the North. He danced with a ritual, white powder was thrown everywhere and we were all invited to dance with him as individuals.
Then we were given the opportunity to meet with him individually and be "blessed" and "ask any questions, hear about our futures." I was intimidated. And frightened. As someone who doesn't believe in fate, I didn't want to hear anything about my future. I'm not comfortable with anyone telling me what's about to happen to me, largely because I believe in doing random things and going on adventures purely because I don't know what's going to happen. It took a little convincing, but I ended up meeting with "him." It's all part of the experience, right? And the number one thing about this trip is that I want to regret nothing.
It turned out to be incredible. Absolutely out of this world, but incredibly good for me. I learned nothing about my immediate future, and he told me things that related to my life that were powerful without being direct and even creepy. It's hard to explain, and I don't think that I can ever relate the experience as well as it was received, but I'll try in person if ever we get to talking about it when I come home. I also have many photos to share, I'll post them soon!
Friday, February 18, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Another Chapter in Ghanaian Life
Homesickness is this weird beast that lives beneath your bed, but instead of catching you at night it creeps up on you and goes BAM! at any point in the day. And then there's nothing you can do. It's also not the normal homesickness - I miss my mom, dad, home - it's I miss my country, my food, my friends, my water, weird things that can't be accounted for in a phone call. But what are you going to do?
I have left Accra and good riddance! Kumasi is beautiful. It's a large city, but much calmer than Accra and it feels much more manageable. I really enjoy my home as well. The area that I live in is gorgeous and the house is very western. The husband was a chief, however he passed away last year and I live now with my homestay mother and her sixteen year old daughter. There is also a four year old grandson.
Two things that have made it golden: 1) a ceiling fan and 2) coffee in the morning. My first morning I literally thought I had died and gone to heaven. I am hoping that given time the family will open up and we can entertain some conversation - it always takes time, even more so in a culture that doesn't spend much quality time together. At least in this family we all eat at the same time, even if it is in different rooms.
They also own two dogs. Dogs are an interesting subject in Ghana. As I understand is true in many poor countries, animals are not treated as pets. In a place where you can barely feed yourself and your family, why would you spend money feeding animals? And to think I even spent money buying the dogs... not to mention my horse.
I asked Ama (host sister) what the dogs names were. She began laughing. I paused and then sheepishly said "Unless they don't have names..." "No, they don't have names," she responded. Not only do they not have names, but the four year old makes a habit to not only chase the dogs around, but once he ran up to one that was lying down and kicked it in the ribs for absolutely no reason. I yelled at him and told him that it wasn't nice, but really, what power did I have? I don't know what kind of punishment he gets for hitting the dogs normally, if any at all.
This morning when I walked out of the house the dogs were outside the door. I leaned over and beckoned them with my hand and they stood back staring at me wagging their tails as if all they wanted was to come up. When they finally did approach me and I pet them, they went crazy with excitement. They started jumping on me and running after me and wagging their tails and licking my hand. They were so attention starved, and it made me realize how incredibly much animals rely on us, and what do you do when no one is there to give them what they really want? And at what level is their importance compared to a human beings'?
Personally, in a family that can afford the large house I'm living in with a gate and two cars, I would think they could give their animals a little attention. But it's just not in the culture.
I have left Accra and good riddance! Kumasi is beautiful. It's a large city, but much calmer than Accra and it feels much more manageable. I really enjoy my home as well. The area that I live in is gorgeous and the house is very western. The husband was a chief, however he passed away last year and I live now with my homestay mother and her sixteen year old daughter. There is also a four year old grandson.
Two things that have made it golden: 1) a ceiling fan and 2) coffee in the morning. My first morning I literally thought I had died and gone to heaven. I am hoping that given time the family will open up and we can entertain some conversation - it always takes time, even more so in a culture that doesn't spend much quality time together. At least in this family we all eat at the same time, even if it is in different rooms.
They also own two dogs. Dogs are an interesting subject in Ghana. As I understand is true in many poor countries, animals are not treated as pets. In a place where you can barely feed yourself and your family, why would you spend money feeding animals? And to think I even spent money buying the dogs... not to mention my horse.
I asked Ama (host sister) what the dogs names were. She began laughing. I paused and then sheepishly said "Unless they don't have names..." "No, they don't have names," she responded. Not only do they not have names, but the four year old makes a habit to not only chase the dogs around, but once he ran up to one that was lying down and kicked it in the ribs for absolutely no reason. I yelled at him and told him that it wasn't nice, but really, what power did I have? I don't know what kind of punishment he gets for hitting the dogs normally, if any at all.
This morning when I walked out of the house the dogs were outside the door. I leaned over and beckoned them with my hand and they stood back staring at me wagging their tails as if all they wanted was to come up. When they finally did approach me and I pet them, they went crazy with excitement. They started jumping on me and running after me and wagging their tails and licking my hand. They were so attention starved, and it made me realize how incredibly much animals rely on us, and what do you do when no one is there to give them what they really want? And at what level is their importance compared to a human beings'?
Personally, in a family that can afford the large house I'm living in with a gate and two cars, I would think they could give their animals a little attention. But it's just not in the culture.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A Smorgasbord
I literally just walked through a raging river to get to this computer. Along the way I fought mud holes, oncoming traffic and saved candies from utter destruction. I am now drenched.
When it rains, it pours. At least that's true for Ghana - it was the first time I have ever been cold since being here and it's already over. The rain usually lasts 30 minutes to an hour and I was lucky to be sitting under a canopy with my friends when it hit. The water rose to our ankles before finally calming down and draining - but not enough for me to avoid the river.
Confession: I had a huge splurge last night. I spent $13.77 on dinner. Horrible, right? On average I spend $1.98. Well, I'll tell you why: I had a cheeseburger. It was worth every penny.
So I suppose we ought to address the food now. I really had no expectations - I had heard of "fufu" but had no inkling of what it was and had otherwise been told rice and beans. Well that's true - there is rice and beans, tons of chicken and tilapia- beef and pork are rare, though I know that some have goat meat (my homestay family has goats for eating and selling).There is fruit, though Ghanaians don't eat very much of it - the mangoes are to die for, the bananas are tiny and delicious, the pineapple has no acidity and you can eat it for days. There are virtually no vegetables. If you ask for a vegetable, you're often given a strange look - it's just not done, and rarely offered. One of my classmates found a cucumber stand by her house - every day she collects cash to buy cucumbers for those of us with a vegetable deficiency. Lastly, everything has a lot of spice.
Alright, so here it is. Fufu, banku and kenkey. Fufu is cooked cassava and cooked plaintain that has been beaten with a long rounded pole. It's pounded together to get rid of all of the chunks and to turn it into a starchy, sticky consistency. It's rounded into a ball, placed in a bowl and covered with "soup." Usually it's a spicy mixture with either fish or cow's leg (avoid cow's leg at all costs - it's skin and veins, no meat).
To eat it you use your hand to pull off a piece of the fufu, soak it in soup and swallow it whole. The fufu itself has no taste - it's not meant to. Instead it's a filling vehicle for the soup. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm really not a fan. There is absolutely no comparison of food that I have ever eaten, and they always serve so much. I've eaten it three times, every time with a great deal of effort.
And now just pictures! Because I know everyone has been waiting for them.
When it rains, it pours. At least that's true for Ghana - it was the first time I have ever been cold since being here and it's already over. The rain usually lasts 30 minutes to an hour and I was lucky to be sitting under a canopy with my friends when it hit. The water rose to our ankles before finally calming down and draining - but not enough for me to avoid the river.
Confession: I had a huge splurge last night. I spent $13.77 on dinner. Horrible, right? On average I spend $1.98. Well, I'll tell you why: I had a cheeseburger. It was worth every penny.
So I suppose we ought to address the food now. I really had no expectations - I had heard of "fufu" but had no inkling of what it was and had otherwise been told rice and beans. Well that's true - there is rice and beans, tons of chicken and tilapia- beef and pork are rare, though I know that some have goat meat (my homestay family has goats for eating and selling).There is fruit, though Ghanaians don't eat very much of it - the mangoes are to die for, the bananas are tiny and delicious, the pineapple has no acidity and you can eat it for days. There are virtually no vegetables. If you ask for a vegetable, you're often given a strange look - it's just not done, and rarely offered. One of my classmates found a cucumber stand by her house - every day she collects cash to buy cucumbers for those of us with a vegetable deficiency. Lastly, everything has a lot of spice.
Alright, so here it is. Fufu, banku and kenkey. Fufu is cooked cassava and cooked plaintain that has been beaten with a long rounded pole. It's pounded together to get rid of all of the chunks and to turn it into a starchy, sticky consistency. It's rounded into a ball, placed in a bowl and covered with "soup." Usually it's a spicy mixture with either fish or cow's leg (avoid cow's leg at all costs - it's skin and veins, no meat).
To eat it you use your hand to pull off a piece of the fufu, soak it in soup and swallow it whole. The fufu itself has no taste - it's not meant to. Instead it's a filling vehicle for the soup. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm really not a fan. There is absolutely no comparison of food that I have ever eaten, and they always serve so much. I've eaten it three times, every time with a great deal of effort.
And now just pictures! Because I know everyone has been waiting for them.
 |
| The school that I attend every day within the University of Ghana, Legon. |
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| tro-tro |
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| Not where I live, but the same area - Newtown |
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| Me, Sara, Ashley and Jake with our sculptures |
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| Batik making |
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| Final product |
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| Drumming at a funeral |
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| Professional drummers we saw and danced with today |
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| Learning to drum |
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| Me, Fordrina, Nadu and Golda. Fordrina and Golda are my host sisters. |
Monday, February 7, 2011
Details
- Left Hand
- It is considered one of the biggest insults to gesture with your left hand. You should always use your right when waving, raising your hand in class, giving directions, or any other hand motion. I should probably have my left hand cut off, because I'm the most insulting person Ghana has ever seen. I'm not even left handed.
- Music
- The hit music here is about five years out of date. Ring tones are the best. The other day in the tro tro "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan started blasting and a 30 year old guy in the back picked up the phone. "Ice Ice Baby" is making a come back in Africa. Tell your friends.
- Marriage Proposals
- Happen. A lot.
- Trash
- If you thought recycling was bad in the States, try introducing it here where there are barely trash bins. One of my friends carries bottles around for hours just hoping to come across a trash bin, but it never happens. I have seen more trash in a day than I have seen my entire life span in the States.
- Water
- Water bottles barely exist here. Instead water is delivered in pouches - plastic bags, similar to the ones that we were given milk in when we were in third grade. Although thought to be a great idea, Ghana has quickly realized that the plastic pouches are creating way more mess and the plastic is found everywhere.
- On another note, you can find water everywhere, but there are only two water companies that are "trusted" and have passed the Ghana government's standards.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Get Lost
As of now I'm in Accra, the capital, which means access to internet is readily available. I don't imagine that will still be true in a few weeks time, so I'm writing while I can.
Here in Ghana the way that you move around is in a "tro-tro." They refer to them as "buses" but they are nothing like the bus you think of in the States. Instead, they are jam packed mini-vans that fit 16 people in the back and 3 in front, but many more if you pack it in - and they do. It's all about making money - the more people in the bus, the more money the "Mit" (door operator) and driver receive.
Two nights ago was my first experience getting home by myself. I live 45 minutes away and needed to catch a tro-tro from Legon (campus) to Newtown. To know which tro-tro to catch, you listen to the Mit shouting out the window. So as they drive by you hear "CIRC-CIRC-CIRC-CIRC-CIRC" for Circle and "CRA-CRA-CRA-CRA-CRA" for Accra. When I go to catch the bus, it's 6:30 at night and I'm fast regretting going home my first time in the dark. I stand outside listening for "Newtown" and I'm not hearing it. Twenty minutes later I'm still standing there. Nothing.
After the fifteenth rejection, a man walked up to me and asked where I was trying to go and I told him.
"At this time of night?!"
Shit.
So he tells me that I need to go to Circle and catch the bus at the Newtown station. He tells me he needs to go that way anyway and that he will take me and show me the station. At this point, I figure there's not much I can do, and I agree.
In total I spent about an hour with this guy. After thirty minutes on the bus he taps me and tells me that we should get out and walk, the traffic is too heavy. Well, I've come this far. Winding throughout the craziness of the Circle (Times Square, but with no traffic laws, three times the people, and people selling things) we chatted about what I was doing there, how was Ghana, and if I was a Christian. He walked me several blocks past where his stop was, asking everyone where the Newtown station was. He asked my name once, then pointed me into my seat and waved good-bye. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and realized how incredibly gracious he had been. His name was Brian. I think.
I hop out of the tro-tro at my stop, ask three people the direction I need to go and continue on my way. As I'm walking down the street (around 8 pm now) a man that I come upon says "How are you?" So here I'm thinking that in Washington, DC, if someone randomly says "how are you?" it's creepy - we're taught to disengage, and to the best of my ability I did. Then I realized I was lost again.
So I told him so. I pulled out the directions I had and he asked to see. I showed him, and he brought me a block backwards where I was supposed to turn and he pointed the way. I said thank you (it was probably the hundredth time I had said it that night) and walked away in the direction I hoped my house was in. It was. I have never felt so relieved in my life. Except the next day, when I made it home a second time.
I'm incredibly grateful a) that those two men helped me and b) that it happened to me. It taught me so much about being lost and needing help, and about the Ghanaian culture. Every day we take an hour of class to talk about our experiences. I shared mine yesterday, and our teachers explained that in Ghana, it is taught that it is the right thing to do to help someone who is lost or needs assistance. It is said in West Africa that "You are your brother's keeper" and it is their belief that if they help you, one day they may need help and they will be repaid - not by you, but perhaps by someone in America when they are lost wandering around DC.
I can only hope that we would be so kind.
Here in Ghana the way that you move around is in a "tro-tro." They refer to them as "buses" but they are nothing like the bus you think of in the States. Instead, they are jam packed mini-vans that fit 16 people in the back and 3 in front, but many more if you pack it in - and they do. It's all about making money - the more people in the bus, the more money the "Mit" (door operator) and driver receive.
Two nights ago was my first experience getting home by myself. I live 45 minutes away and needed to catch a tro-tro from Legon (campus) to Newtown. To know which tro-tro to catch, you listen to the Mit shouting out the window. So as they drive by you hear "CIRC-CIRC-CIRC-CIRC-CIRC" for Circle and "CRA-CRA-CRA-CRA-CRA" for Accra. When I go to catch the bus, it's 6:30 at night and I'm fast regretting going home my first time in the dark. I stand outside listening for "Newtown" and I'm not hearing it. Twenty minutes later I'm still standing there. Nothing.
After the fifteenth rejection, a man walked up to me and asked where I was trying to go and I told him.
"At this time of night?!"
Shit.
So he tells me that I need to go to Circle and catch the bus at the Newtown station. He tells me he needs to go that way anyway and that he will take me and show me the station. At this point, I figure there's not much I can do, and I agree.
In total I spent about an hour with this guy. After thirty minutes on the bus he taps me and tells me that we should get out and walk, the traffic is too heavy. Well, I've come this far. Winding throughout the craziness of the Circle (Times Square, but with no traffic laws, three times the people, and people selling things) we chatted about what I was doing there, how was Ghana, and if I was a Christian. He walked me several blocks past where his stop was, asking everyone where the Newtown station was. He asked my name once, then pointed me into my seat and waved good-bye. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and realized how incredibly gracious he had been. His name was Brian. I think.
I hop out of the tro-tro at my stop, ask three people the direction I need to go and continue on my way. As I'm walking down the street (around 8 pm now) a man that I come upon says "How are you?" So here I'm thinking that in Washington, DC, if someone randomly says "how are you?" it's creepy - we're taught to disengage, and to the best of my ability I did. Then I realized I was lost again.
So I told him so. I pulled out the directions I had and he asked to see. I showed him, and he brought me a block backwards where I was supposed to turn and he pointed the way. I said thank you (it was probably the hundredth time I had said it that night) and walked away in the direction I hoped my house was in. It was. I have never felt so relieved in my life. Except the next day, when I made it home a second time.
I'm incredibly grateful a) that those two men helped me and b) that it happened to me. It taught me so much about being lost and needing help, and about the Ghanaian culture. Every day we take an hour of class to talk about our experiences. I shared mine yesterday, and our teachers explained that in Ghana, it is taught that it is the right thing to do to help someone who is lost or needs assistance. It is said in West Africa that "You are your brother's keeper" and it is their belief that if they help you, one day they may need help and they will be repaid - not by you, but perhaps by someone in America when they are lost wandering around DC.
I can only hope that we would be so kind.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Akwaaba!
Welcome! I hear it almost every day. I've been in Ghana now for five days, and I'd be lying if I said it was all fun and games. In percentages, I would say it's 90% awesome, 10% difficult. The difficulty all came 24 hours ago when the homestay began.
When I arrived in Ghana I had to continually remind myself that I was in Africa. It was hard to believe that I was on another continent, in a place I'd looked at for months in anticipation. Now that I'm a few days into it, I believe it. I'm out of the hotel and into a home, surrounded by street sellers and bags of water, taking bucket baths and sleeping under a mosquito net.
The hardest part in the family stay has been the lack of the "nuclear family." They don't spend time together - in fact, don't even take meals together. You are told when food is prepared, you find it and eat alone. You don't spend time together, rather you're expected to "do your own thing." As a social butterfly, this hasn't worked very well for me. I feel out of place - but at the same time, I suppose it's an excuse to be on my own.
The program is wonderful. Today we had class at 8 am, where we had a lesson on Twi, a cultural seminar given by a Traditional Chief, followed by a drumming lesson. I couldn't ask for better classes. We went to Medina Market as well, and I finally got some money! The first two ATM's a tried rejected my card - a bit nerve racking at first, but I'm happy to have it settled.
A few tidbits (before my time runs out at this internet cafe): 1) Being white has never felt more awkward. To stand out so drastically is uncomfortable. 2) At the same time, race doesn't matter. They call me "Obruni!" (white person) and in turn I can call them "Bibini!" (black person). There's no stigma about the color of your skin, you are just a different color. 3) Running water is a privilege. 4) Accra roads are insanity. More people die of traffic accidents than diseases daily (that might be a bit exaggerated).
There is so much more, and yet only 2 minutes. I'm outta here!
When I arrived in Ghana I had to continually remind myself that I was in Africa. It was hard to believe that I was on another continent, in a place I'd looked at for months in anticipation. Now that I'm a few days into it, I believe it. I'm out of the hotel and into a home, surrounded by street sellers and bags of water, taking bucket baths and sleeping under a mosquito net.
The hardest part in the family stay has been the lack of the "nuclear family." They don't spend time together - in fact, don't even take meals together. You are told when food is prepared, you find it and eat alone. You don't spend time together, rather you're expected to "do your own thing." As a social butterfly, this hasn't worked very well for me. I feel out of place - but at the same time, I suppose it's an excuse to be on my own.
The program is wonderful. Today we had class at 8 am, where we had a lesson on Twi, a cultural seminar given by a Traditional Chief, followed by a drumming lesson. I couldn't ask for better classes. We went to Medina Market as well, and I finally got some money! The first two ATM's a tried rejected my card - a bit nerve racking at first, but I'm happy to have it settled.
A few tidbits (before my time runs out at this internet cafe): 1) Being white has never felt more awkward. To stand out so drastically is uncomfortable. 2) At the same time, race doesn't matter. They call me "Obruni!" (white person) and in turn I can call them "Bibini!" (black person). There's no stigma about the color of your skin, you are just a different color. 3) Running water is a privilege. 4) Accra roads are insanity. More people die of traffic accidents than diseases daily (that might be a bit exaggerated).
There is so much more, and yet only 2 minutes. I'm outta here!
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