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