Takoradi trip and other small items

Hello family and friends!

I miss you very much, though culture shock is tapering off again ;)

We’ll start with things that have been happening:

My classes are all continuing, and becoming fairly regular and normal. I’m still a trifle confused about the soap box status of some of my classes… That is to say, my professors have very interesting opinions ;) Sometimes I agree with them, and sometimes I don’t, and that’s fine… but especially in my African Traditional Religion class, the mob-like reactions of the students make me wonder how discerning they are about the professors remarks. He states as fact things that I consider beliefs, generalities and stereotypes, and it makes me nervous. But this is the same person who earnestly solicits my opinions about his plan to bring Americans to Ghana to educate them about religion & history. I also think that while he didn’t teach our class this Tuesday, he called the TA while *he* was teaching to relay a message that he wanted to meet with me. So bizarre.

Anyway, all of my classes now have regular schedules and permanent places to meet. They’ve all also started assigning moderate homework, though I’m waiting for bombs to fall. In my African Traditional Religion class, for example, the syllabus that I just received says we have a paper due in roughly 2 weeks. Nevermind that we won’t have class next week because it’s the 6^th of March. I guess I’ll call him about that soon.

Work at Planned Parenthood has also become fairly regular. I can’t remember whether I’ve said this, but now I know how to take people’s weight, ask them how old they are, where they live and what they do for a living… the hard part, however, is when they also respond in Fante… but I’m working on that, and slowly but surely learning the names of local villages and their correct spellings. Soon I’ll also learn how to give Depo injections (a fairly simple undertaking) and facilitate pregnancy tests. By the by, abortion is illegal in Ghana except under extreme circumstances concerning the health of the mother, so that’s not what PPAG is up to. Instead, they offer counseling, help for people with fertility problems (did you know adoption is looked down upon here? More on that later), and TONS of options for contraceptives. These final things are rather intense. They sell condoms, of course, but also there are pills of various kinds, the Depo injections which last for 3 months, and the Norplant implants which last for 5 years. Eesh. Or, as Ghanaian Akans would say, “Eii…”

As a note, people say “Eii” all the time here. They’ll say it in response to surprising situations, whether it’s a strange bit of conversation, an alarming tackle in a Chelsea football game, or someone getting hit on TV (there’s a lot of hand-to-hand violence in the movies here. Ghanaians say it’s predominantly in the Nigerian movies, but I have my doubts.) Sometimes there’s a connotation of disapproval, depending on the context, but sometimes it’s merely surprise. Interestingly, people’s voices go very high when they say this- especially the men. Men don’t allow their voices to rise in pitch like that in the US unless they’re playing or mocking someone, but here even when people’s voices break or crack on TV (say, for some televised preaching), it’s taken completely in stride. Also, Eii is pronounced “eh” or “A-E” if you like, starting high and then falling slightly in pitch.

We’ll stay on the topic of gender norms, though, because it’s interesting, even though I feel like I’m just beginning to get my feet wet.

1) Marriage proposals: I get lots of casual marriage proposals here, and they don’t usually come in the form of “will you marry me?” nevermind getting down on one’s knee ;) The conversations usually go something like this:

Gentleman my age or older: Obruni!

Me: Otse den? (how are you?)

G: Bokoo (fine/cool)… Eii! (surprised that I speak some Fante) Apow mue? (How are you/ your health?)

Me: Nyame n’adom (By the grace of God, I am fine).

G: What is your name? (some people switch to English here, others don’t)
Me: Rachel/Esi, and you?

G: Kofi. Where are you from?

Me: I’m from the US.

G: What part?

Me: North Carolina

G: Oh, I have a friend in Michigan… How do you like Ghana?

Me: It’s nice, I like it a lot.

G: What are you doing here?

Me: I’m studying at UCC.

G: Oh! What hall are you staying in?

Me: Actually, I’m staying off-campus with a family.

G: Is your husband with you?

Me: Um, no…

G: Is he at home?

Me: No, I’m not married.

Ending A:

G: What! Why not?

Me: I’m too young…

Ending B:

G: Then I will marry you.

Me: Erm, no…

So, partially this is “interaction with foreigners” rather than “gender norms”, but we’re getting to that. Anyway, this is really how lots of my conversations here go. I usually have at least one of these a day. People always want to know how I like Ghana… more on how Ghanaians feel about their home later. And some want to know where I live specifically (and I’m vague or not depending on the situation), and they offer to visit me, to which I say that my family probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Simple enough ;)

But anyway, I’ve come to the conclusion that while some marriage proposals are cheeky, or weirdly earnest, or attempts at winning my general good favor, at other times men are simply trying to be polite by offering to marry me. It’s a strange sensation, but I think they’re trying to acknowledge that I would be a fine person to marry in general, which in Ghanaian culture is a compliment since they so highly prize marriage and having children. So, as a result of this realization I’ve started saying, “no, but thank you” instead of just “ack, no”.

2) Other gender thing: So, since the continuation of family is so very important, and people must have children, it’s inconceivable to be homosexual in this culture. As in almost all African countries, homosexuality is illegal. And apparently, if you’re a man who looks too “feminine”, people might very well shun you out of mere suspicion that you’re homosexual, but I’ve seen very few people who stretch away from gender norms here. Expectations for men and women are very different here from the US, though. For example, when women have facial hair, they just keep it. They don’t mess with it, they leave it, though Clare said that both men and women shave their armpits (I haven’t noticed). Also, here men who are friends often walk hand in hand, lay their heads in each others laps, and whisper into each other’s ears. No one’s homophobia kicks in because it’s absolutely inconceivable that lovers would be so open about their affection – so they must just be friends. And that’s just the way it is.

Now then, onto the Takoradi trip from last weekend… in truth, it was mostly a trip to Nzulezo, the village on stilts, which took up all of Saturday, but we left Cape Coast on Friday by tro-tro (scrappy 12-20 passenger vans), ate at a nice restaurant, and then slept at a nice hotel in the middle of town. We decided that we could leave the hotel by 7am and still get to Nzulezo in plenty of time since it was about 3 hours away. This consisted of 2 hours in a tro-tro, and then 1 hour in 2 taxis over dirt roads. Actually, it’s four hours, because then there’s the hour long canoe trip along this waterway to the village. So, all in all, 8 hours of traveling, plus some time needed for seeing the village, which took maybe 30-45 minutes, and time to eat.

Unfortunately, though, we didn’t get the early start we had hoped for: our trotro got stopped about 5 minutes away from the station by the police because, in fact, it was a community work day to clean up the city, and even tro-tro drivers weren’t supposed to work. Nearly everyone in the tro-tro tried arguing with the police, who are notoriously pliable, or at least bribable, but it didn’t work. There was even a man going to a funeral, but they didn’t budge. So, we stayed in Takoradi until 10am, when the work hours were over. It was very interesting to see the clean-up effort, in any case. Takoradi already seemed to be cleaner than other cities we’ve been in here, but they went to such lengths as pulling up the heavy concrete gutter covers to shovel out the muck in them, and I was impressed. People were also washing sections of pavement, sweeping everywhere, and all the shops stayed closed. *Nobody* was driving on the roads. Again, Ghanaians are very fervent about the idea of everyone sacrificing for the good of all. By the by, this clean-up was for the 50^th anniversary celebration on March 6^th, and has apparently been happening on the last Saturday of every month in all Ghanaian cities for a year or so.

So, anyway, after all of that, I think we got to Nzulezo at about 3pm. It was a bizarre experience… the homes were very well constructed, though the walkways weren’t. I learned that when new homes are built, the whole community comes together to establish the foundation, and that they pound the support stilts into the shallow water like fufu. So all of that was very interesting. But it was also awkward that not everyone in the village was happy about being on display. I couldn’t even really speak to any of them because they’re Enzima and we’re only learning Fante. C’est la vie, I suppose. We met with the chief, and were told we were extremely fortunate that he was available. He inspected the documents that said we’d paid, and answered our questions, but seemed frustrated by some of them, perhaps because he didn’t speak enough English to be able to explain as he’d like, but perhaps also because he was tired. Chantal also ended up buying a baby crocodile that a kid had caught, and there’s no denying that it was cute, but getting a pet that we’re not particularly prepared to take care of makes me nervous in general. We unfortunately lost it later (it got out of its tiny cage, and Akwasi’s first reaction was to throw it out the taxi window… *sigh*), but buying it was the most positive interaction we had with the people of Nzulezo, so at least that’s something. I never cease to be amazed, however, at how these bizarre tourist experiences end up indirectly teaching me much about things I never expected to learn. At any rate, we got back to Takoradi at 10:30 or so that evening. We went to the beach on Sunday, and I got to swim in the water (yay!) but there’s a whole story attached to that which I’ll relate next time (probably Saturday) ;)

Also, I don’t think I’ve written much about this yet, but March 6 is the 50^th anniversary of Ghanaian independence, and it’s a HUGE deal. Ghanaians are *so* proud, but at the same time, some are critical about the amount of problems Ghana’s still having after 50 years, and the hypocrisy that still occurs. For example, the 50^th anniversary cloth was made in China instead of Ghana, and some people are really mad. But anyway, Chantal, Katie, Akwasi and I will be going to Accra on the 5^th (Monday), and staying till the 7^th, to see preparations and clean-up in addition to the celebrations themselves. Hopefully I’ll get to write once more before then, though ;)

And last but not least, some clarifications on the last post: part of the whole water conversation is that even though I have running water now, it makes a huge difference to know that my friends in Ola still don’t have it… so even though I still need to take showers lest I start itching, I now take them with a much different mindset. And sachet water, btw, sounds bizarre, because you wouldn’t think they’d be convenient to actually *use*… but they are! You simply set them down on the opposite corner from the one you’ve torn to drink, and then they sort of slouch a little never ever spill unless you press on them. It’s nice :)

Anyway, I love you all, and I hope you’re well! Feel free to write :)

Thanks for caring!

Love,

Rachel Rose