Life in Accra

(2nd republished account of my time in Ghana in February this year: this republishing is a wetting of the palate in preparation for my trip to Ethiopia, Taiwan and Ghana beginning in mid-September)

Yesterday I was walking through Accra's downtown marketplace with literally thousands of other people, almost all of whom were very black (the only exceptions being one Chinese couple who owned a store we were in, one mixed race young woman working in that store, and one white guy I saw where the main business district boarders on the market). After picking up the things Stella was looking for we continued on prospecting for clothing for me. As the heat continues to build, so does my determination to be clothed in light flowing cotton, cut in the traditional style.

One of the really entertaining dynamics of our mutual exploration of this reality of navigating with a white guy through the 100's if not 1000's of sellers, is the tension between Stella's need to satisfy herself that I am not being ripped off and that she is being treated with respect that runs counter with my generosity combined with wanting the item that I want. Quite a few times the same scenario played itself out with Stella controlling the discussion (in English) with the seller, deciding they wanted a dollar or two too much and walking off leaving me without the item I wanted. One time I insisted on going back and getting the shirt I am currently wearing - -paying $7 for it instead of the $5 she thought it was worth, while another time she ended up promising me she would go back and get me the cup I wanted for $1 instead of trying to get it for less. All of this transpired in an atmosphere of relaxed work with lots of laughter as we continue to sort out how to handle things together. We did manage to get me 6 metre pieces of 100% cotton - one a bright patterned green, the other a darker, more subdued maroon - for having top and bottom sets of clothing made for me. One cost $10, the other $15.

Along the way quite a few men called me Jesus as I was going by, and in such cases I would smile at them and they would smile warmly back at me. Another time in our neighbourhood when we were out for a walk a group of young children excitedly called out "agroni" (white man) agroni Jesus. Meanwhile business and professional people have no idea what to think, as everyone here is of course closely cropped.

Today we visited Stella's tailor and agreed on a price of $30 in total for the two outfits. We were a good team when it came to ensuring we got a fair price from him. As Stella says, every time a vendor sees us coming, they believe that Stella has brought her bank with her and want to share in the wealth. Pretty ironic! :)

On the price of things, we saw Broccoli in the store for $9 a bunch and bought ordinary loaves of bread for $7 each. Fabian tells me that bread is available for $1 a loaf on the street, but the hygeine issues keep Stella away from street vendors. Anything for the Western palate is really expensive, but ordinary Ghanaian food and products are very reasonable. For example there were a couple of motorbikes on display in one store we went into - one for $700 and the other for $1200 - probably a 250cc. The latter looked to me like one that could easily cost $5,000 or more here in Canada. When discussing Ghanaian manufacturing with one of Fabian's relatives he mentioned trying to bite a piece of Ghanaian chocolate - trying without success to break off a piece! I see lots of room for CIDA's technology transfer program here, getting for example a successful Canadian chocolate manufacturer to set up a Ghanaian manufacturing operation with CIDA's support.

Oh, yes - after coffee this morning early, Stella at the last moment took me on the morning excursion to drop the boys off at school after an hour of rush hour traffic, and then took me to a business her sister owns where they produce Pito - a fermented Guinea corn brew. I was given a healthy bowl of this to drink, with the information that many people start their days like this - particularly where they come from. Her sister and her decided that despite my skin colour I am Dagabo - one of their tribe and family! This designation is based on my acceptance and enjoyment of their cuisine, as well as my consumption of Pito in the morning without showing any ill effects. Actually i had a very liquid bowel movement when I got home - and we have a bottle of Tipo available now in the fridge; so we'll see what the longer term effects are.

Finally, Stella and I had a little heart to heart about quantities of food and alcohol I'd been having stuffed down my throat. We've agreed that now that I'm a member of the family, I can eat less without her having to worry about whether I like the food or whether she is being sufficiently hospitable.

Enjoying life in Accra,

grace and blessings

your brother Daniel

5 weeks in Ghana January – February 2009 1st Journal post

Technorati Tags: Ghana,foo foo,traffic,etiquette

Anticipating a trip to Ethiopia, and perhaps Taiwan and Ghana beginning mid-September, I thought I’d repost my experiences, experiences which to date had only been sent out by email and a couple of previous blogs to a long list of friends, colleagues & acquaintances. Now these experiences are being offered here on Blogger & Facebook.

The following was my first "impressions" piece about being in Ghana:

Well, hello India, it's nice to back! So much of what I see and experience here is straight out of my experience of India. Being as I absolutely fell in love with India, you can guess where this is going then! :)

So some of the flora and fauna is pretty familiar, as is the architecture, climate, roads, etc. Some important differences are however that there are many more cars and trucks than motorbikes, whereas in India, exactly the reverse is true. In Accra you don't see many bikes, motorized or not, whereas in India there is an overwhelming number of them. In Holland, there are certainly a lot more bikes than cars and trucks, but not on the scale or proportion of India. Anyhow, here traffic often crawls; drivers are often polite, with a few very aggressive drivers adding spice to the over-all mixture.

People are more allergic to accidents here in Ghana than perhaps anywhere else I've been. It's very interesting what policy can do to public behaviour. For example, in Syria, drawing the attention of the police to yourself always results in misfortune, and so people keep their noses very clean. One time, out in the country, a drug dealer had a farm, and had fortified it, had armed men, etc., Two police officers were shot at when they went out to make some arrests. A helicopter gunship flattened the place killing everyone. So a harsh police system cuts down on visible crime, unless it is, in the case of Syria, crime carried out by the ruling family.

Here in Ghana, the policy towards car accidents is that both parties in the accident have to go through the rigamarole of re-taking their driver examinations. Thus people are even more motivated than usual to avoid car accidents and to settle them privately if they have one. Thus aggressive drivers get away with it, because nobody wants the trouble of being penalized for getting in an accident with one of them.

When it comes to crime, such as burglary or fraud, anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the act would be very happy to see the police, because they can count on getting a major beating from the affected people, their family, neighbours and friends. Fabian told a story of a man who went around taking pictures of people in his village in Northern Ghana, collecting deposits, and then never coming back to deliver the goods. Unfortunately for him he forgot he'd defrauded this village and some time later came back through. They demanded their money back, which of course he didn't have so they took their satisfaction out on personally beating him, that is each one that had been defrauded got their satisfaction.

Fabian took me for a drive yesterday including through the very crowded central market area. We were in a vehicle without air conditioning so I had my window all the way down despite the crowds packed against the car. One woman said (in her language) "Look at that white guy, he's not afraid of anything!" Evidently white people driven through the market in cars are a bit timid and keep their windows closed and doors locked. I will be going down there later on foot (at Fabian's suggestion) as I'm still looking to pick up local traditional clothing. Of course one needs to be careful of becoming a "mark" or "target", as almost happened already last evening, but my experiences in India and China have helped me recognize the dynamics of these situations as they unfold.

I took Prescott to a small local garage store in search of batteries, but I was concerned he would not get the type right, so turned off the vehicle and went in after him. There was a group of 4 guys lounging to one side and sure enough one of them had situated himself near the vehicle when I was coming back out. He tried to make eye contact at which point I pointedly averted my eyes and walked past him, disappointing him in the process because he could not engage me. I just got in the car with Prescott and left. Body language and use of the eyes is pretty key.

Stella has also suggeted I take public transport up to Wa way up in Northern Ghana, and from there I can stay with a teacher relative of hers and by motorbike travel to the villages of Eremond. We shall see - it looks like it could be a 700km trip!:) http://www.mapsofworld.com/ghana/ghana-political-map.html

In whatever manner, and however I'm guided, the adventure continues. I've been meeting people with training and backgrounds who could contribute big-time to a sustainable agriculture, water conservation project, so it should in fact be a very interesting next few weeks! :)

For what it's worth, I've been given a passing grade by the relatives they had over yesterday for dinner. Evidently I'm not doing too bad at basic cultural niceties like eating Foo Foo with my right hand and keeping my left hand out of circulation. Foo Foo is beaten yams (a large root with white flesh) pounded for more than an hour by Stella's domestic (in a wooden bowl with 6 foot long pestle or pounding stick resulting in a sticky doughy mass served as steamed mounds that you serve in a bowl of soup and meat. The etiquette is to rip or scoop pieces off of the mound, dip them into the soup and scoop the mixture into your mouth with your fingers! Quite appetizing. Oh, and so far, I have yet to hit really hot food! :)

Anyhow, nuff for now!

Michael Jackson In Memoriam

The sad death of Michael Jackson, "our tortured genius" has had me reflecting for some time now. I was saddened and disgusted by American and British responses to Michael epitomized by the comment from British Foreign Secretary David Milliband: "Never has one soared so high and yet dived so low." I was heartened by the responses from countries like France and Japan where Michael is their hero!!

We laud ourselves on our democratic and humanitarian principles and yet we are perpertrators ourselves of great violence against so many people, believing in the justice of our actions. We all make mistakes, sometimes big ones, sometimes we hurt the people we love the most; but to demonize those who are a great force for good in our society because of such mistakes, betrays a fundamental weakness in our culture.

But enough of my ramblings, Michael's music more than responds to what our messed up society did to him. I refreshed my memory of his music by listening first to: "I'm Bad", and saw the rebel, the voice of all those who are so angry at a society and system that excludes or denigrates them: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uG5NhkxQJQc

Then it was "Nobody really cares about us:" A deliberating shocking view of the brutality of our world, and the social legitimization of deliberate violence against so many, many people, whether that violence is physical or the destruction of someone's identity, reputation and everything good they've done in life. Do we remember Michael as the one who started Collective Star Rock concerts for famine relief? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HSNeHHuQA4

But the final word goes to Michael's message on how to change the violence and hatred in this world: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9lq8oaK5Mw So many images of famous people, people who were agents of change in this world, now like Michael, all deceased, all people we reverence in our memory, and so are better people for it.

You know, we don't all make it. Even when we've taken the transformative path, become a vessel of grace for others, pursuing our own and their transformation with authenticity and love . . . we don't always make it. Perhaps Michael never quite made it onto this path, trapped instead in the shame/rebellion dance with way too many drugs to numb the pain. I don't know, I just know that I'm sad that we lost the creative force that he was, I'm sad for his suffering, and grateful that he can now finally be at peace.

RIP Michael Jackson