Month: September 2011

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Where Time isn’t Money

Americans are obsessed over time. From fast food to the latest electronics, we’ll gladly open our wallets to save a few seconds. If there was an invention to avoid the hassle of peeling bananas, it would sell like hotcakes… banana hotcakes that is.

Ghanaians live on the opposite side of the spectrum. While certain aspects of their life such as the education system and medical visits require being on time, almost all other parts of life here runs late.

This morning my AFS “Auntie” sent a text to my host-mom and said that she, “would be picking me up at 8:45 A.M. to drive to Achimota Secondary School to pick up my uniform.”

I woke up at 7:30, planning to get a haircut. However, by the time I finished showering and eating it was already 8:15, and I didn’t think 30 minutes would be enough time to walk to and from the barbershop.

Forsaking the haircut, I waited for my Auntie. 8:45 soon arrived. So did 9:00, 9:30, 9:45, 10:00, and 10:15. I was starting to worry for her safety when, lo and behold, at 10:27 she finally knocked on my door.

Theoretically, not only did I have enough time to get a haircut, but also if the barber had accidentally cut me, I would’ve had enough time to go to the emergency room and get stitches – with time to spare for bowfloats and coffee.

When Americans are late, they’ll call in advance to let you know, and usually apologize profusely. Ghanaians are so used to it that when Auntie came into the room, her body language seemed as though she didn’t even notice she was close to two hours late.

My host-mom said if you show up on time to a party, you’ll be the only person there. People will normally start arriving anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour after it "begins." I'm rapidly coming to realize that is the truth.

This post isn’t meant to argue that the Ghanaians concept of time is bad, or good. It’s just “different,” and takes time to get used to it.

But thanks to my latest experiences in Ghana, I know one thing for certain. Next time I have a get-together at 8:45, I won’t wake up until 9:30.

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A Tale of Two Breakfasts

AKA: The inside story of why I’ve been on the toilet for the past 30 minutes

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It all started on a sunny Wednesday. I had just finished 30 minutes of straight jogging (as a graduate of the “Couch to 5k” running program,) when all of a sudden I came across a man with a machete… and a large pile of coconuts.

I bought one for 60 pesewas (40 cents), and he immediately started hacking at the coconut while turning it, until it was clean-shaven at the top. On the top, he cut a hole for me to drink out of  of it roughly the size of a quarter.

After drinking the juice at a speed similar to Charlie Sheen drinking alcohol, I handed the shell back to him and expected it to be thrown away. But Mr. Coconut Man had a different idea in mind. He grabbed the coconut, and proceeded to chop it into 4 pieces. He carefully scooped out the white, creamy inside with a spoon- as is done to an avocado.

He then handed me the coconut shell once more to eat my fill of the soft, creamy, innards.

It was delicious… yet my quest for refreshment was not fulfilled. I proceeded to order another coconut. It was even better than the first, and as I left the stand, my blissful belly was feeling very satisfied.

Innocent Coconuts - murdered by heartless people such as myself

 

I began to jog home, but quickly had to stop due to the condition of my belly gurgling from all the ingested coconut water. I slowed down to a walk, and in a few minutes I came across a woman in a stand selling some type of fried dough for 20 pesewas (13 cents). I couldn’t resist, and bought one. I bit into it expecting sweet breakfast doughnut, but a savory and oily hushpuppy flavored batter awaited me. It was good, but it caught be off guard. I later learned that it was made from black eyed peas, and was called koose (recipe here).

After eating two coconuts and one koose fritter, I slowed my pace even more to an even-slower crawl and ended up cramping regardless. After arriving home, I took a quick shower, and then readied myself to take a nap. Five minutes later, my host-mom came knocking on my door:

“Breakfast is ready!”

A Note on Eating in Ghana:

It’s part of the culture that you should try eating everything, and always do your best to finish your plate, to not waste food. It was wrong of me to eat so much food outside, as breakfast is usually served in the home. Denying the food would’ve been understandable, but since I had only been with my host family for a few days, not the best thing to do since I wanted to bond with them.

“…. Be there in a minute!”

I begrudgingly slumped out of bed. At the table, the most extensive breakfast I’ve had to date awaited me. It was “continental”, according to my host-mom, and included large omelets, white bread, baked beans, and milo (hot chocolate).

Somehow I found room in my stomach to down an entire omelet, two slices of bread, and a fairly sizable amount of beans.

Finally…

Every story must have an ending. It just so happens that mine wasn’t the happiest of endings. Although I "did my host-momma proud" by finishing the plate, it had its own consequences. I’m not going into details, but you can reread the subtitle of this blog post just to get an idea of the results.

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Impressions of Accra – the First Few Hours

Note: This posting was written on 9/12/11, but due to lack of internet, it hasn’t been posted until today.

Even though our group has been staying in Accra at the Coconut Point Regency Hotel, we haven’t really experienced the city due to constant orientations and lectures. However, yesterday we took a trip to the center of Accra and walked around for a few hours. Here are the first impressions:

•The Traffic: To sum it up, Accra is as busy as New York, but much crazier and hectic. First of all, cars (not pedestrians) have the right of way. If you’re walking across the crosswalk and the stoplight turns green for the cars, you better start running. Cars will slam on the accelerator, and start honking at you immediately. A personal estimate is that at least 50{3a5a0fd47fd42b6497167aecc6170a94848f1ba936db07c4954344fcfff1d528} of all vehicles on the road are either trotros (see below) or taxis. People drive like complete jerks – cutting people off, not letting people merge, and even driving on the sidewalk just to pass someone. It’s probably a good thing that AFS doesn’t let us drive over here…

• The Trotros: Generally speaking, a trotro is any form of public transportation besides a bus/taxi that is designed to carry many people. In Ghana, they are either a large van or very small bus, and are the primary form of transportation for Ghanaians (most cannot afford a car). There are also a variety of hand signals used to show the conductor where you are going, and conductors also yell out of the side of the vehicle their destination. I will be taking 2-3 separate trotros to get to Achimota once my school begins this Tuesday.

• Using Their Heads: Ghanaians carry everything on top of their heads. In just a few hours, I saw cartons of eggs, chocolate bars, mini-fridges and even clay pots balanced on their heads. Although people carrying everything on their head looks very silly at first, it makes perfect sense because it helps avoid back strain and is much easier for carrying heavy items long distances. Sometimes people wrap cloth in a circle to help stabilize their goods, while other times it’s flat on their head. Regardless, I have yet to see a Ghanaian drop anything.

• The Market: It’s almost indescribable; absolutely chaotic, yet perfectly in order. To be honest, it’s still overwhelming for me – the constant shouts of “Obruni” and “buy this” while watching where I am stepping in the unpaved path are so different from home. Everything from Nigerian movie DVD’s and bananas to t-shirts and fufu pounding sticks are sold. Every couple of seconds the smell changes completely between anything from garlic and old fish to human excrement, so be careful about how deeply you inhale.

• Poverty: To be honest, while poverty does exist in Ghana, it’s not as overwhelming as you think. I have yet to see something that I couldn’t imagine taking place anywhere in the United States. One thing that was new for me (coming from Naples, Florida) was the following people asking for money.

o The Kids: While they are very cute when asking for money, they usually aren’t Ghanaian. Most kids we’ve seen have been Mali, and beg for money which they then proceed to give to their parent. Their parent may then proceed to buy food for the kid, but it’s just as likely that they will use it to buy alcohol or drugs for themselves.

o The Handicapped: As you are driving, handicapped people will either wheel themselves to you, or do something else to get your attention. This type of begging does take some getting used to. According to our orientation, if a child is born handicapped, there is a large chance they will be abandoned on the streets because many African parents believe handicaps to be a form of witchcraft.

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Safely in Ghana

Hello everyone! As of now, I have officially spent about 36 hours in Accra.

This post is just to inform everyone that I am safe. I don't have very much time for an in-depth post, but Ghana is absolutely amazing. Hopefully there will be many postings and photos to come.

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