Traditional welcome 06 Sept 08 (an oldie but goodie)

Today was a very good day. B.J. and Jennifer both texted me saying they had a good day too. After breakfast I went for a walk. I stood in the middle of the African savanah looking out over the tall grasses and was overcome with the joy of actually being here in Ghana. It took so long. I went through so much, good and bad that it is finally time to enjoy that I am here. Simona called me later in the morning and said to come and greet her grandmother. Abigail, Evelyn, and Doris went with me. I got a traditional welcome from Simona’s grandmother. She took me inside and then had me make the welcome drink. First Simona had me wash my hands. I put my hands over a bucket and she poured water over them. I rubbed my hands under the water. Then she handed me the calabash with about a quarter of a cup of millet flour in the bottom. She instructed me to remove my sandals and to place the calabash on the floor between my feet. I held the calabash with the sides of my feet. Next she showed me how to mix water with the millet. She poured about a quarter of a cup of water into the millet and with my right hand I mixed it together. When that was mixed she poured more water and I mixed again. The third time she poured about a cup of water in and I mxed the flour into the water creating a milky white liquid specked with brown and black. Now it was time to drink it. I asked was I supposed to share after I drank but she said no. I took a sip. It was bitter and spicy at the same time but somehow refreshing. Then I was given a small spoon and I scooped some of the flour off the bottom of the calabash. The flour was even more bitter and spicy. I drank some more liquid. Simona’s grandmother said I did not have to drink it all because I was not accustomed to it. Now we could visit. I tried some of my buili and Simona translated but we did not talk much in that formal setting. Simona then said she would take me to their traditional house. I asked if anyone lived there and she said only her other grandmother. But even if no one lived there it was the home of their grandparents and those before them so they would not destroy the buildings. On the way to the traditional house three women were working under the shade of a big boabab tree. They were pounding beans and shea nuts to remove the shells. I did speak some buili with them and managed to get some of my points across. then Elizabeth said in English “You want to learn our language!” To which I replied “Ah” and nodded my head. They were using a large pedstle to pound. The beans were in a hollowed out tree trunk. It was just the right height to stand and to pound the pedstle into it.Elizabeth let my pound. After the shells were removed another woman was winnowing to remove the shells. When I see the Ghanaians working I am amazed at the grace and ease with which they do the work. The arms and torso of the woman who was winnowing flowed with the direction of the wind. It would be a lovely move in a Ghanaian ballet. The boabab tree they were under had fruits hanging from a cord. They will be ripe in late Sept or early October. I will report on them. I did not bring my camera. One of the girls mentioned it and the women said I could return. Since I will be here for a long time I want to participate in many of the activities before I become an observer. I am not a tourist coming to snap photos but a community member. As a community member I want my photos to be a reflection of the life I know here. We then walked behind the new home and looked at the traditional home. Although I can’t describe it well enough, I will try. I will take photos another time, The interiro and exterior walls are mud. I do not know what the framework is made of. That will be a future assignment. When I got close to the walls I saw that there was a patterned etched into them. Simona said that they used sticks, stones or even fingers to create the design. Some of the walls also had black geometrical drawings or paintings on them, both the inteirior and exterior. The windows were square or rectangular and entrances were also round. The home consisted of a group of rooms joined together by a wall. Some rooms were for sleeping, others were for cooking. Some of the flat roof tops were used to dry crops and sleep on during the very hot season. The other roof tops are thatched. There were also silo’s for grain storage. With thatch covers that look like tropical hats! Some of the house is in disrepair but about 1/3 is still maintained and Simona’s other grandmother lives in it. We returned and Simona’s grandmother was sitting under a tree. beside the tree was a platform made of large branches with a roof of millet stems. The stems are there to dry to use as kindling and they give shade for people sitting on the platform. I sat on the platform and visited with Simona, her grandmother, her mother and a couple of other women. They were removing leaves from one of green leafy plants they put in stews. At first just Simona’s mother and her grandmother were plucking the leaves but as other women came by to say hello they joined in. It was a good day.

-vc

Ramblings 14 Sept 2008

Ramblings

I can’t believe I haven’t written anything in over a week. The only business I have is self-made. I been reading. This time a story of the Mau Mau period in Kenya set just days before the Uhuru. Uhuru is when Kenya gained independance. The story goes between the present and the Emergeny when Kenya was fighting for independence. It is called “A Grain of Wheat” by Ngugi  Wa Thiong’o. It was first published in 1967, four years after Kenyan independence.

Now I am reading “The Fate of Africa; A History of Fifty Years of Independence” by Martin Meredith. This book was published in 2005 and received good reviews all around. I bought it for an overview of contemporary African history.  I am reading this book knowing that Meredith, an Englishman, has a certain bias towards a continent his countrymen colonized.  With that in mind I am enjoying learning about a continent I had very little knowledge of before. There are echos of the two books of fiction I have read in the parts about Senegal and Kenya. Meredith prefers to focus on the post colonial actrocities instead of those perpetuated by the colonizers that lead up to the movement for African independence.

I have also been taking photographs. For Jeanette I tried to take some photos of little yellow butterfiles. I have been learning the landscape and how to photograph dark faces. Fill flash! The flowers are out but they are so very small. My macro setting on my Canon rebel does a pretty good job of letting me get close enough. Yesterday I learned women around the world share common traits. I was on the savanah, taking photos of a favorite spot. A women walked along the path with a load of wood on her head. I greeted her and we communicated using my baby buili. Then I pantomimed taking her photos and asked if was all right. AIYA! she said  shaking her head and hand violently. Then she indicated her clothing and said “Kan Nala!” Like many American women she said “I am not dressed up enough for you to take my photo!” Literally she said  “not pretty.” I respected her wishes and hope to one day have enough buili to tell her that I wanted her as she was.

This morning I took photos of the boys dormitory construction project. On man spoke english very well and asked me where I was from and about America. I am not sure that I can educate even the people in this small village that America is not a place where everyone is rich and happy. I did try to explain yes they would get big money for construction work in America but they would also pay big money for everything they needed in America.  They were working very hard. They were using pick axes to dig trenches for the foundation of the new boys dormitory. I hope they were working early in the morning to aviod the heat of the day.

Goats. I can’t explain how happy the goats make me especially the newborns. They…. its…. they BOUNCE! They do and no just forwards but sideways and backwards. They are very spooky and I never mean to spook them but if I do the will jump inches into the air and bounce ff in whatever direction is away from me, regardless of the direction they were headed. And when I try to imitate their bleets and cries they come then look at me so strangley.

A cat has adopted me. She is a small grey tabby. So very affetionate. In the morning when I open my door she comes and cries until I come out. I do feed her some leftovers but she really likes me to sit on the cement and pat her. I have not heard her purr yet. I wonder if she can because when she is rubbing against me or I am patting her she seems very happy.

I am enjoying the last few days before school starts. Students will arrive tommorow. They will clean for a few days to a week then classes will start. Yes I am nervous.

Internet access is sketchy in town, mostly due to transportation issues. The day I had some time to spend checking out the internet cafe my bus came and I felt I had to get on. The buses are unpredictable so I take one when one is there. Lucky for me the internet cafe is right at the bus stop so I can go in and know when a bus is there. Using the internet cafe in town is one of my goals for the next week.

Today Ghanian cuisine met Mexican-Amercan.  At lunch I had Kenkey and salsa. The salsa had tomato paste as the base but I did have lime, onion, garlic and one small tomato, It was pretty tasty. If I add sugar to the tomato paste it’s a good base for sauces and salsa.  Then this evening I made garlic texas toast, refried beans and at most of the rest of the salsa. That was pretty good too.

I eat vegetarian quite often. There is canned tuna and I get a can aweek. it’s expensive 1 ghana cedi and 40 pesewas. Consider I can buy three whole fish for 1 Ghana Cedi and make three meals to the one I make out of the tuna. The tuna is in oil and is not albacore white that’s for sure! But with mayo and salt on some tea bread or sugar bread it feels almost like home!

I have tried another canned fish. Didn’t like it much. You could eat the bones but it just felt weird to me to eat them.

Another reason I eat vegetarian often is that the first time I bought beef they were slaughtering the cow right there in front of me. It was pretty grusome.  But really this cow had a much better life than almost any cow in America, They are truly free range. Usually the children are the herders. They bring the cow to pasture. Sometimes that pasture is right next to the computer lab at my school. The cows graze and then the kids check on them and bring them home.  But none the less I have a hard time thinking of going back to get more of “the beef” as they say here.

Goats on the other hand are tied to a stake in the pasture. They are more likely to wander off and to get lost but they have a long rope and really are not confined. Some goats roam around the house as well. The new borns are not tied at all because they stay right with the mother or near the goat house.

Chicken is another story all together. you buy it whole and either slaughter it and feather it yourself or have the butcher do it. He will also butcher it. Then you can keep it in your fridge or freezer but I don’t have a fridge or freezer yet. The cold store is supposed to have chicken pieces but i have yet to go there when they do. Chickens and guinnie fowl are also truly free range. They wander around the yard, the corn, the peanuts and any other fields they want. They return to the correct coup because the owners do feed them some grain to get them to come back.

I am very close to the food I eat. Barbara Kinsolver and her family should have come here for there year of eating locally.

-vc

Rainy Day 04 September 08

Rainy Day

The funniest thing happened at 6:34 this morning when I woke up. There was no human noise outside. That is very unusual any day here but expecially today because it is market day and Perpetua has to get her bread ready to go to market. So my first thoughts are of disaster or the rapture but then I got up. When I looked out my window it was very overcast and I though ah ha the rain is coming. The people had not been raptured or in some kind of a disaster they were just inside because it was going to rain.

The air was so cool. A small wind was blowing so I opened my doors and windows and let it come through and freshen the house. The sky was layered with grey, black and white clouds. There was no sign of sky or sun. The rain would be welcome after the past few muggy and hot days. (re: sweating entry)

I decided to have breakfast then to take my tea into bed and to finish the book I had been reading. It’s the story of a strike in French Senegal. “In 1947-1948 the workers on the Dakar-Niger railway came out on strike. “ (back cover) God’s bits of wood is written by Sebene Ousmane. He is from Senegal. Read it if you get a chance.

While I was frying my eggs and tomatoes and my texas toast (no garlic this morning) the winds picked up. I had to stand at my screen door and watch. It remindes me of The Wizard of Oz everytime it blows like that. They don’t have tornadoes here as far as I know but it sure feels like I am about to be blown to Oz.

Then the rain came. I was small small disappointed because I figured by the time I had breakfast and cleaned up the dishes the rain would be over. Since I did not want to loose my excuse for lazing in bed, I ate quickly and left the dishes in the dishpan. My tea, my book and I headed to bed. The rain continued for an hour. It was so cool I had to put my two yard over my feet and legs. I finished my book and it was still raining. So I spent another ½ hour or so playing cards in bed and doing some puzzles. (Taunt Fra thanks so much for the puzzle book.)

When I finally hauled butt out of bed the rain had slowed but it was still cool so I decided to attack my kitchen. I put on the same grubby clothes from cleaning the bathing room and started in on the walls of the ktichen. What it really needs is a new coat of paint. I am trying to figure out how temporary this place is and make some kind of deal with the headmaster about painting but for now washing will have to do. Did I mention the ceilings are 10 feet high. Yes so I only washed up as high as my arm could reach. Then I washed the floor as well.  Yes I sweat a little but not like the other day.

While I was waiting for the floor to dry Dizzy came for a visit. She had her umbrella and her rainboots on. She also had a sweatshirt on. I am no longer the person who is the coldest now that I am in Ghana. The Ghanaians have me beat as far as that is concerned.

Abigail also came over and said she could go to market with me. The rain had pretty much stopped. it was still overcast and I thought it would be nice to go into town in the cool. We set the time for Noon. I sent Dizzy off. I told her I had to get ready for town. Going to market means getting dressed somewhat nice. The first time I went I had on some baggy mid calf pants and a shirt. I was certainly underdressed. So today I wanted to where my red skirt and the white top Beth gave me.

I walked into the kitchen to get the water for my bath. My kitchen looked much better until I looked up above where I could reach to clean. Definate line of demarkation between clean wall and dirty wall. Sigh. The clean wall is not perfect in fact some paint is washed off and there are still dark spots and traces of pencil marks on the walls but it looks beautiful compared to the part on top. Is my wall half clean or half dirty?!

Of course when Abigail came it was raining enough for us to take my umbrella. Abigail is a real trooper we headed off in the rain down the mile walk to the junction. The dirt paths and roads were muddy and our sandles got so dirty that cleaning them in a mud puddle was an improvement. We were almost there and Abigail thought she heard the bus. We rushed but luckily it was just a big van. We made it to the junction and stood under the tree waiting for the market bus.

A car came down the road from the school and Abigail said let’s beg a ride. The car looked familiar and it was. It was Abass’s car. So Abigail, I and another girl hopped in and we got a ride to town. Abass likes country music but it’s my kind soft rockish country. It’s pretty cool to be listening to it driving down the road in the Upper East Region of Ghana.

Abass dropped us in front of the bank. We walked behind the bank into the market with umbrella unfurled and short list. I really wanted to see the market more than buy today but the rain had kept many yab-jeura’s (traders) away.  I did my shopping. I visited one market lady I had seen last week and even got the courage to say “Te mu jaara” which means add a little.  On the way out I also stopped at the Rafe’s plastic stand. I was looking for a cutting board but she only had wooden. She said her partner was going to Kumasi and would pick me one that wasn’t plastic.

We were walking to the bus station and the rain had finally let up. Oh I forgot to mention the other reason for going to the market. I wanted to figure out the bus to and from.  Not that time schedules really mean too much here but I at least wanted to get an idea if it will work for me. There are no tro tros here just the metro buses that run about 3 or 4 times a day. But no bus ride in and we met Abass on our way to the bus station and he said he would give us a ride home. So again not bus but we got a ride and right to our door.

During the afternoon light rain came and went. The Sandema Girls Card Club met with two new members, Matilda and drats I forgot her name. But the rain started in again and Abigail ran home then Matilda and her sister.

I had dinner of rice and beans with coconut, ginger, garlic and green peppers. Something was missing so I will have to try it again another day. I am also learning how to cook just enough rice and just enough beans for one meal. With no fridge leftovers end up outside for the Vito, the Kampusi’s dog and the cat who has adopted me.

Right now I am on the bed with a two yard on and listening to the rain pour down again. Today has felt like a rainy New England fall day. Just the piece of home I needed.

-vc

Sweating 03 September 08

Sweating

The day started out pretty cool so I decided to go to the borehole and get some water. I knew it would only be one bucket. To get to the  borehole I walk on a path through the savanah. Now during the rainy season the grass is tall and flows nicely in the breeze. But the walk back is not so fun. Carrying a bucket full of water is not easy. It was hard for me to do when  the borehole was right outside my door in Suhyen but now when it’s ¼ of a mile away it really tires me out.

What I was really hoping was that there would be some of my card playing teens there and they would help. Last time they did. But alas I had to carry it back myself. This involves many stops, preferably in some shade and frequent switching of hands. When I got to the Kampusi’s yard Mr. said “You are carrying water! It’s too heavy for you.”

“Yes” I replied. “I am getting just one bucket and hope the kids will come by today to help me.”

“Let us know when you are running out and I can get the workmen to bring the donkey cart.” said Mr. Kampusi.

“OK” I said “It’s really too hard for me.”

When I got to my water barrell I was sweating up a storm for the first time today.

After breakfast I had my next great idea. I decided to clean my bathing room. It’s a long narrow room with one window at the end and a door at the other. There is not too much cross ventilation. Before I even finished the three foot wide wall sweat was just dripping off me. It was running down my face. I could feel my shirt soaked to my back and rivulets of sweat were running down the back of my thighs. At this point I thought “Why am I doing this?’ but realized that I was going to have to do it sometime and I was already in the middle of it. The reward – a bucket bath in a clean bathing room.  So I finished the job all the while chanting my mantra “I am in Africa I will sweat.”

About noon I got my bucket bath in a clean bathing room. Felt good.

Doris, and Evelyn came over a bit later and we played Dash. Dizzy of course came in too. While we were playing Amusah came with the donkey cart and a huge container of water in the back. He filled three barrels and a bucket for me. I was already imagining a very extravagent bucket bath later in the evening. Maybe a whole half a bucket or more!

Abigail came for cards as well and then Jennifer followed. We played a long time. They were talking buili and I understood enough to know they were saying I had something in my dok (room)  I finally asked them to translate one word into English and the word was toffee! Here in Ghana all candy is toffee. Last week I had given Martha and another girl toffees and a pencil for helping me get water. Martha had told them I had toffees. I offered to get some toffee for us all. I had actually been thinking of it as another reward for my cleaning. We each had two Worthers.  I explained how they are special for special occasions.

The girls then did an interesting thing with the wrappers. They rubbed the gold part on their lips and it came off on their lips. They looked exotic.  They each have tribal markings on their faces. It’s usually one small scar on the cheek somewhere. Those scars and the gold on their lips made them look like they came out of some African story 100 years ago.

Finally I ended the meeting of the Sandema Girls Card Club. I decided to make some garlic texas toast. I melt Blue Belt margarine and oil in my frying pan then heap on the garlic. Today I used 4 cloves. When the clove begin to soften and crisp up then I put in slices of bread. Today I have tea bread and it’s about the size of a loaf of French bread so I put in 4 slices of that. Cooking inside in Africa really really stinks.  For the third time today I was sweating. No not as bad as the cleaning episode but more than I wanted to. But the reward for this was crispy garlicky bread with soft and crispy garlic chunks. Yum Yum.

I will get a coal pot to cook outside with. I cannot haul my gas tank and my burner outside. The gas tank weight twice as much as a bucket full of water with out the gas in it! The coal pot is small and portable and good for making one pot meals.

Now I am in my bedroom with the ceiling fan on and catching up on blog entries. No more sweating for me today.

-vc

The Sun on this Rubble

The Sun on this Rubble

The sun on this rubble after rain
Bruised though we must be
Some easement we require
Unarguably, though we argue against desire.
Under jackboots our bones and spirits are crunched
forced into sweat-tear-sodden slush
-noow glow-lipped by this sudden touch.

-sun-stripped perhaps, our bones may latter sing
or spell out some malignant nemesis
Sharpevilled to spearpoints for revenging

but now our pride-dumbed mouths are wide
in wordless supplications
-are grateful for the least relief from pain
-like this sun on this debris after rain

Dennis Brutus born in Salisbury, Rhodesia in 1924. He actively participated in the struggle against apartheid in South Africa. (from Exam Focus Literature in English)

Poem

Hi all

Sorry it has been so long since I posted to this blog. There is an internet cafe in Sandema, UER, Ghana but it is very slow so hard to upload posts.  Today SImona took me to Bolga and this faster internet cafe.  I will post two posts today this poem and another about settling into my new home. I will future date about 6 others so come back for the next two or three weeks to read more about my adventures in my new home in Sandema.

I love this poem. It is how I feel when I dance here.

Agbor Dancer

See her caught in the throb of a drum
Trippling from hide-brimmed stem
Down lineal veins to ancestral core
Opening out in her supple tan
Limbs like fresh foliage in the sun.

See how entangled in the magic
Maze of music
In trance she treads the intricate
Pattern rippling crest after crest

To meet the green clouds of the forest.
Tremulous beats wake trenchant
In her heart a descnt
Tingling quick to her fingertips
And toes virginal habits long
Too atrophied for pen or tongue.

Could I, Early sequestered from my tribe,
Free a lead-tethered scribe
I should answer in her communal call
Lose myself in her warm caress
Intervolving earth, sky and flesh.

John Pepper Clark Bekederemo 1935- Nigeria Songs of Sorrow

Adjusting 30 Aug 08

Adjusting 30 August 2008

If I write in this journal of my experiences in Ghana that I am or was depressed please family and friends don’t freak out. Rachel, another PCV, said sure there are days that I want to curl up on the bed and never move but I had those days in America too.  This is a huge change and things have been changing for the past three months well even more for me since I left my job in May. So there will be days I need to adjust my attitude.

So I will write and you will not freak out….yesterday evening and this morning I was depressed. I wondered if I could really make the move to this very foreign, very poor, very third world country. I was focusing on the things that are hard or that are very different from what I am use to. When I was laying in bed this morning the problems seemed so large.

At 7:00 am I decided to get up and then I remembered I have my own gas cooker now! I have tea, powdered milk and sugar! I can make a cup of tea. A lilttle bit of independence and something familiar were enough to get me going in the right direction. Then I turned on the radio and found a station playing Rachmoninoff (no way is that spelled correctly). This piece was used as the theme in one of my all time favorite movies – Somewhere in Time. As I ate my tomato and cucumber salad for breakfast and listened my mood picked up.

The morning was overcast and relatively cool.I went outside to buy some bread and eggs from Madame PP (Perpetua) and met my little friend Dizzy.  We went for a walk. The rainy season is the time for the flowers to come out. And Dizzy was the one to show me where they were. So off we went into the open grassland to find flowers. We also found an ant colony. I saw a cameleon that looked exactly like the dirt road goat droppings and all! They are amazing. I am not sure I really believed in them until I saw them here.

I returned Dizzy home for her tea. When I went back to my apartment I thought what shall I do now? How many times have I said I wish I had days to take photographs. That I would never be bored if I was taking photos. So I got my camera out took my longer lens and went in search of the flowers Dizzy and I had found before. After her tea Dizzy found me and she lead me to the school office building. We went to the top floor and oh what a beautiful view. The savanah is grassland but it is not only grass there are trees as well.

In our explorations we met Abigail and a couple of other children. We returned to my house. Abigail had her ICT test and some of her textbook with her. I shoed the children out and Abigail and I talked a little while.

Then Jennifer, Evelyn and Doris came over and we all played Dash. Dash is a Ghanian card game much like UNO but you use a regular deck of cards. These girls play to win but they also help each other. There is much looking over to other peoples cards and admonishments to play that card or calls to change the suit to this one. Funny enough sometimes the suit is changed to the one called out. Or reminders that you can do this or that. But after three hours of visiting and cards I called an end to the Sandema Girls Card Club and said I had work to do. I wanted to look through the photos I had taken that morning.

Again I took advantage of the new freedom of the gas cooker and made egg salad.  When the eggs were boiling I went to the front of the house to Madame Pps store and bought a coke for forty pesowas. Next to the store I saw her husband, Kampusi, digging a big round circle in the ground. I said what are you doing? He was making the foundation for a summer hut. I asked permission to take photos of the process and he agreed, So I ran to the house to get my camrera and took some photos. I asked what next and he said concrete for the foundation. I asked if he would send Dizzy when they were ready with the concrete and he agreed.

I went back and fixed my lunch. For some reason I felt the need to butter the bread for the open faced sandwiches. I never buttered my bread in the USA. I made four open faced egg salad sandwiches, two had a slice of tomato on top and two were pure egg salad joy! Dizzy came and I shared one egg salad sandwich with her. Then her dad called in to my house and said that they were going to make the concrete. So I spent the rest of the afternoon watching them work on the summer hut. I cannot wait for the summer hut to be finished!

So yes I was depressed and yes this is a sometimes a hard thing I am doing but like Rachel said even in America I had blue days. Today I reminded myself that getting out, doing something I love and hanging with people are all good ways to help make my adjustment to Ghana easier.

Food

Let me state the obvious. The food here is different. What I hadn’t realized is how acclimated to the food I have become until I was talking to a friend on the phone and described my dinner. Later in the conversation I asked him how he was doing he said “My food is better.”

 

‘What was wrong with your food?” I asked.

 

He replied “Nothing it’s better than yours. No leaves or fish eyes!”

 

I had said I was having vaata jenta, leaf soup and fish. I mentioned picking out the fish eyes because Ghanaians often mash the whole fish into the leaf stew. I was just use to it.

 

First many of the ingredients are different.  The greens are leaves or kontumari.  The corn is not sweet but ferments easily. Fermented corn dough is used in many dishes here. Garden eggs are a bit bigger than an real egg. They are yellow and they are shaped like an eggplant. (There is a photo on m flickr account) They are a bit like an eggplant in texture but they have a stronger almost bitter flavor. There are some seeds, agushi i think, that are ground up into a flour and used to thicken stews. Although I recognize some of the fish the fish is usually dried or smoked or salted. Goat meat is very popular as well as bush meat. Bush meat is any wild animal like grasscutter or antelope etc. Papaya is one native fruit.  The yam are like no yams I have ever seen so i’ll put them here in different foods! And casava, I like boiled casava very nice texture and flavor. The snails here are huge, as big as my fist. They do not taste as slimey as the ones back home. Oh yes and palm nuts and shea nuts.

 

There are also many familiar foods here. Mango, pineapple, oranges, limes and lemons, banana and apples. But the apples are imported and I have not yet eaten them. Chicken, beef, and salmon are familiar sources of protein. Thank goodness there are tomatoes. The other vegetables are carrots, okru (okra),(flickr photo) onions, garlic, cabbage, american or green peppers, peppe or chili peppers,  potatoes, corn on the cob, string beans, lettuce and cucumbers. There is white rice. A whole array of beans can be found at most markets. There are also many kinds of flour, corn flour, wheat flour.  Many familiar spices like nutmeg, black pepper, salt, and others. One fresh fish are small small crabs. they are no bigger than the palm of my hand. I will have to watch a Ghanaian eat them to figure out where the meat is!

 

Preparation of the food is very different.  My sisters in Suhyen cooked on a coal pot, used a grinding bowl and long metal hooks to help them cook. The coal pot is a stove. It’s black metal.  The base is a cube with one side open and the top open but covered with a grate. Four pieces of metal extend out and up from the sides of the base making the cradle for the coal. The shreaded shells of the palm nut (as kindling) are put in the base of the coal pot. Coal is put on top with small small palm nut kindling. The kindling is full of oil so they light quickly and burn long enough to get the coals going. The kindling is help along with a fan. My sisters would wave the fan so fast to make the fire burn hot and once the coals started to catch they would wave even faster! Finally the coals are going and they set the pot right on top of the coals.

 

The grinding bowl is wood and has ridges about a quarter of an inch apart all on the bottom and sides. There is an hour glass shaped pestle.  Each end fits nicely in the palm of a hand. I have seen my sisters and the girls at school use this grinding bowl and pestle to puree tomatoes, steamed garden eggs, garlic etc. It works as well as a blender if and this is a big if If you have the skill necessary to do it. I watch them and it looks like they are doing this elaborate dance along the sides and bottom of the bowl with the pestle and the food. It’s very cool. I will learn.

 

Many foods like fufu, banku and tee zed are stirred.  The home sized pot that they are cooked in has a handle on either side. the long metal hooks are hooked around the handles then the other end is placed on the ground. My teacher, Agatha, then sat on a stool in front of those two metal hooks and put each foot on one. when she did this the pot tipped just enough so she could then stir the tee zed.

 

Fufu, banku, kenke, tee zed and rice balls are all big sources of carbohydrates. Yam in the south and casava in the north are also carbs. These are often served with a stew. It’s not really a stew like we imagine but rather a mixture of greens, veggies and oils. The veggies are pureed in the grinding bowl then cooked in the oil with the greens. The meat or fish is cooked over the coals then put beside the carb and the stew is in the bottom of the dish. Sometimes the fish is smashed up into the stew like the example in the beginning of this blog.  If you go to a chop bar and you order one kind of carb, the kind of stew and what meat or fish you want. The stews are kuntumari, ground nut, palm nut, and light soup here in the south.  This can be eaten with hands. Amazingly Ghanaians and older PCVs can eat all the stew with their hands and scooping with the carb.  I cannot do that yet so i use a spoon to finish my soup.

 

I have also had kenke with tomatoes and onions cut up or rice with the same and some fish. I will mix my veggies and fish into my rice. I eat the kenke by taking a piece of Kenke in my right hand and adding some tomato and onion then eating it all.

 

Beans are also popular.  I have had the PCV favorite of red red. It’s beans in palmnut oil which is red and fried plantains which are red somehow!  It’s very good and not too spicy!  There is also waachi which is beans and rice with meat or egg.  Chicken and rice is often served to us when we go to a dignitaries or for special occasions. There are fast food and they have jollof and fried rice. You can get either with egg or meat. The fried rice is really not like American chinese fried rice it’s more Ghanaian chinese! Last night my fried rice had cut up hot dogs or what the Ghanaians call sausage.

 

What I crave the most are veggies. The Ghanaians eat veggies but not very much at one time and often they are pureed in a stew. It’s nutritious for sure but I miss the taste and texture of individual veggies. Even when they are not pureed there is very little veggie to carb. For example, on my last night my sister, Portia, made me spagetti.  A large bowl of pasta, some oil on it and garlic and onions. Then cut very small and scattered through out the pasta were specks of orange, green and red – carrot, american pepper and tomato. It was tasty. I am not complaining but just explaining. I think veggies are expensive to buy compared to the carbs so they use them sparingly. And I think in their active lifestyle they burn a lot of carbs.   Even cooking and washing clothes takes much more energy than we use and add to that the fact that they walk a lot more than we do and that farm work is very labor intensive you get people who need carbs.

 

I will continue to eat Ghanaian food and enjoy it but I will also be happy to be cooking for myself and eating more veggies.

-vc

 

 

At the KSO – 20 Aug 2008 – 24 Aug 2008

 

Today and for a few days I am at the KSO in transit from training to my site. I have a boil on my left butt cheek and traveling is not much fun at all so the PCMO said I could rest here for a few days. I’ll describe the KSO.  It is a walled gated home. That is not so unusual in Ghana. The middle class and upper class all have walled and gated homes and even the lower class their homes are around a central courtyard with a locked gate into the central courtyard. Still it feels a little elite.  The grounds are beautiful. I am sitting in a screened gazebo. There is a cool breeze coming in and birds are singing. There are lizards running around and the larger ones are doing their spontaneous push ups, a quick check of all parimeters then run off routine. I have even seen a couple of butterflies. There are concrete paths through a somewhat grassy lawn. It’s the rainy season. I assume there is no lawn during the dry season. The trees are big and shady. Someday I will know their names, I hope.

 

You enter the house through a large screened porch. The porch has a sofa and many chairs. then you enter the main house and there is a suken part to the livingroom. The very large sectional sofa is there as well as the dining table. The kitchen has two refridgerators. One freezer is filled with ice cubes. oh baby yes ice cubes! I have been drinking ice cold water for two days now. There is also a stove with an oven and a sink with running water. Mike the PCVL*, has his own room and bathroom.  We have two rooms to share. I am in the sickbay. Where is Mr. Spock when I need him?  It has two large double beds and then there are mats that people can spread around. I slept on a mat last night with two people in the beds and three people on the floor.  There is no air conditioning in the sickbay which is why  I like it. Air conditioning bothers me more now than it did in the states. And the best of all we have two bathrooms and two count them two showers. real live showers.

 

Mike, the PCVL, is very laid back. He makes everyone feel welcome when they arrive and then pretty much leaves us alone. But somehow in his laid back style he manages to run a tight ship. It’s quiet at night and the place is pretty clean. The place is very restful. It is a nice break between training and moving to site.

 

-vc

19 Aug 2008 – Swearing in Ceremony

Today on the 50th year and 9th month anniversary of my birth, I swore my oath to become a PCV. PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEER!  I have survived many hours of boring and loooong training sessions. I have also enjoyed many sessions. Laughed with trainers and other trainees, now PCVs. I have moved 6 times. Traveled to at least 5 cities or towns in Ghana. I have used tro tros, PC vehicals,  line cars, taxies, and state buses to travel around. Eaten fofo, snails, dried and salted fish and tons of chicken and rice. I have even had a Coke or two. I have greet people  in my neighborhoods. I have corrected children Yen fremay obruni ya fremay auntie vicky. They do not call me white man, they call me Auntie vicky.  As the above twi shows I  can’t spell in twi but I have at last found a langage I can spell in – Buili.

 

The sense of joy I feel today is close to euphoria.  I am happy to have my life back. It was very hard to be a student again. The days were long and I never felt that I had enough time to do a good job on any project I had to do. It feels great to have all that training behind me. and even better to have setting up my new home, meeting my new neighbors and market ladies, and starting my teaching duties ahead of me.

 

The swearing in ceremony was beautiful. Our trainers worked late into the night on Monday and got up very early on Tuesday to decorate the stage and the audience area. It made me feel like they were really proud of us. The program started on time not Ghana time either but on the stated time. We had the US ambassador there, District education director from Koforiduia, Ghana district and even the local police chief. Many press were there. We had speeches of course.  Joe B and Mary announced our sites. We all walked and received our certificates of completion. Grace hugged me and Suhyen cheered loudly for all their homestay volunteers. Then those of us who wanted to said something in our new languages. I sang a song Taa Maaa Chabbe. It means we help each other. Then the best thing of all the  PCV dance troupe made up of people from my group. If I did not have the boil I would have been in there dancing with the rest of them. That was probably my biggest disappointment of training that after all the practice I could not do the traditional dance. NEXT TIME I WILL! Whenever and whereever that is.

 

We were served a box lunch of rice and chicken. We ate with our host families. Then the ceremony was over.  Lenore and I got back to       our room and said “Wow we have a whole afternoon to ourselves. Let’s take a nap!”  I think the 50+ crowd adds a new dimension to Peace Corps activities nap time!

 

I did it. I made it through this first part. The PCVRFs told us that training is the most difficult and that as hard as it is to become part of the community, to teach and to live in a new culture at least you are more in control of what you do and how you do it.

 

Watch out Sandema here I come!

 

-vc

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