An Obroni in Ghana

*Beware: lengthy, I know. Verbose, I know. If you are not inspired to read this beast of a post but, for whatever reason, would like more info than "hot, but excellent," by all means, just ask.

I've been asked more than once about my thoughts on Ghana thus far, and I've stuck to an expedient "hot, but excellent" for the most part.... to further break it down as logically as I can think to do so (precisely because there are too many thoughts in my mind):

Who: Ghanaians are known for their friendliness, and rightly so. The Agyares, whom I’m staying with for the duration of the internship (and heads of Smartline) are excellent, both as people and as hosts, of course. What’s more, I’ve already been dubbed with a Ghanaian (more specifically, Akan) name, Yaa, signifying that I was born on a Thursday… and this insisted upon by three of the fellows in sales on the very afternoon I’d met them.

As the company is small, I was quickly introduced to everyone in the office - “a boy’s club,” in the words of Mr. Agyare, as Mrs. Agyare and myself are accompanied by only 1 woman among a staff of about 15. Still, on the very first afternoon, soon after my computer was established in the general office, I was sporadically pulled from my reading to respond to the numerous friendly questions lobbed from across the room and, ultimately, talked into taking a stroll down the street with one of the guys in search of a calling card. Adventures expanded yesterday afternoon as I joined two of the guys on a book delivery to a store in Accra Mall, throwing in a stop for roasted plantains and peanuts and a drive through the market while we were at it. Enter part 2…

What: Culture shock, something I absolutely love. First trip to Africa and it’s bound to happen. As I walked down the street with my new coworker, Albert, on Monday, the people around us made no qualms about staring; I clearly am not Ghanaian. Surprising (at least to one coming from a nation much obsessed with the idea of political correctness, for better or for worse) as it was, Albert also had no qualms in noting this, but from his own perspective – according to him, it seems people would be inclined to look at him with intrigue as well, wondering what he was doing with a white woman. Indeed, I was the only one to be found in the area, at least at the time.

I’ve been in the minority before, yes. I’ve been the only Caucasian in the building on numerous occasions, etc etc… but this is the most I’ve been so blatantly in the minority; in fact, seemingly the only member of it, at times. I can honestly say that this never occurred to me prior to the onslaught of staring. Having spent the past semester in DC, I still held a mind set in which diversity was a given, and I failed to fully think that one through prior to arrival. While of course I knew I would inevitably stand out in that manner, I was not prepared for the reactions (not that any have been particularly negative; just intrigued, I suppose).

*The latest on that front, thrown in here before I post: this morning, one of the guys in the office approached me to introduce himself, ask how my trip has been going, and inform me that he would call me “obroni,” aka, “white person” or “foreigner” (for logical reasons, it seems the two have become nearly interchangeable). Before you Americans are too thrown off by this – and I can only imagine the reaction if such a thing happened in the US – Ghanaians are extremely easy going people… to the point that even race has become a light-hearted sort of thing, in a way (note Albert’s lack of issue commenting on it). After being dubbed “obroni,” for instance, I was informed that, if I liked, I could call him “bibini,” or “black man,” in return. Ahem…. I’m American, so that will not be happening – endearing terms though they may be in Ghana!

…ah, I also received an interesting assessment today as I stood chatting with Albert, who paused between sentences and mused “You’re tall… very tall.... Taller than Ghanaian girls. …brown hair…. And I haven’t checked out your eyes yet. What color are they? …Blue?” I always joked that I was far from exotic and had a moderately boring, everyday background in the States… now I’m apparently a creature of intrigue.

Second matter of culture shock, and one that must be equally frank: status. Every society has it’s hierarchy in some manner or another, though some less obvious than others, so of course this wasn’t surprising – especially in a developing country already prone to gross inequalities of wealth. The Agyares employ both a driver, Atta (who also works at Smartline), and a cook/maid, Sister Akua. Raised in a middle-class, blue-collar American family, I am not accustomed to being waited on; if I can do something myself, I will do it, and if I can help, I will. It is this mindset and general resulting habits that have inspired many an incredulous look, smile, or outright chuckle from virtually everyone present since I’ve been here.

This is not, of course, to say that they are usually treated poorly. Rather, it seems more to be the case that the Ghanaians see it as a fact of life, whereas I am hard-pressed limiting myself to putting together my own lunch and a mere “thank you” and helping to clear things away when we have finished a meal. I cannot gracefully sit by as people around me work, but especially so if they are working on my behalf. The one phrase I have learned in Twi, a common Akan language, has thus played an active role in my interactions with Ghanaians, and particularly Sister Akua, who speaks precious little English – “meda ase,” or “thank you.” I’ve been reminded, rightfully, that it is, of course, their job…. Still, I can’t help but note that it’s become more of their lives than their jobs. Relatively well though they may be treated, it’s not at all as equals, and it must be noted that when one is at the beck and call of another (and/or lives on the premises, as Sister Akua does), it is not merely a job.

When: Here until July 15... May-June are statistically the hottest, rainiest months of the year here in Ghana, which is just about the intersection of the Prime Meridian and the Equator. Legit, as we flew in over the coastline (which was, in the words of Jim Carey, b-e-a-utiful), I looked south into the Atlantic and half expected to see a long dashed line through the air labeled “Equator.”

Where: Oops, see above, I spoiled it. But once you have found Ghana, note Accra, the capital, and Tema, a town just to the east and along the coast. Place pin and label “Kate is/was here.” Looking forward to ventures out as the rest of my time here progresses, with the fellows from the office in the Accra area and outskirts and with Kofi, once he returns from PA.

The Agyares live in a neighborhood between Accra and Tema, where aside from birds and the wind blowing through the palm trees, the only sound you'll ever hear is honking when someone gets home, because Ghanaians dearly love to honk their horns: at other vehicles, at bicyclists, at roadside sellers, and at closed gates (which open soon after honking, thanks to the just-summoned person behind them).

Why: Take it from my raisin box: “Stay curious and you will travel to the ends of the earth.” Indeed. I was curious, so I traveled not quite to the end, but to a place most people (at least, most Americans – including myself, prior to meeting Kofi and playing Sporcle) probably could not locate on a map. Additional cause: internship, of course. I’ve been hard at work editing a Ghanaian social studies textbook, a second edition bound for local high schools… the brilliance of the project, of course (the brainchild of Mr. Agyare), being that I learn about Ghana along the way. The blend works out quite well, combining this academic learning in between outings and speaking with actual Ghanaians, of course.

Something the book probably will not tell you: the mangoes are small but delicious; fresh pineapple also pretty darn awesome. Americans won't find themselves lacking for music, though much of it is either somewhat dated (from "I Believe in Miracles" and "Gotham City" to Michael Jackson) or country, believe it or not. ...and Ghanaian women, by the way, may be relatively short (according to Albert) because they’ve been walking around with massive weights atop their heads. Seriously, it’s astonishing how much they’re able to manage – strong backs and superhuman balance, it seems. Eggs, peanuts, melons, water, sewing machine on lapdesk… you name it, and someone in Ghana has probably balanced it on their head while strolling down the street. Ah, and for the women, at least (because men also carry things atop their heads, though more cloth and suitcases than produce), extra weight added by the child often strapped on as well. Amazingly innovative idea, if you asked me, and much more transportable than ungainly strollers, as what appears to be a large, strong piece of cloth provides the infant with a nice little seat looking towards the mother’s back while she walks along, seemingly unhampered by the child strapped to her and the full tray of eggs balanced on her head. Now there’s some skill for you.

Pic.s coming.... been soaking it all in mentally, not so much with the photos yet. Have no fear; it will be done.