Clement and I have arrived in Ghana. Like so much of life, it was an adventure getting here - of course there was the necessary and sad bit of saying goodbye to good friends, moving out, selling our things, and packing. Then there was the unnecessary bit of DHL losing my passport when I shipped it with them to the Ghanaian High Commission in Harare, Zimbabwe to get a visa. They were very apologetic but the extra stress led to a few tears and a delay of a week. Finally we left Lilongwe on the 8th of February and, after a night in Addis Ababa, arrived in Accra in the afternoon of the 9th. During the trip as I considered what I was leaving behind and the unknown towards which I was headed, my excitement and anxiety seemed to counteract each other and left me feeling empty.
As soon as we passed through immigration in Accra we found Clement’s classmate Moses waiting for us at the baggage claim with a warm smile. He brought us home to his wife and two little boys. So here we are in their home with all our earthly possession in four bags. We have no home and little idea of what will come in the next days, weeks, months. I must consciously remind myself that beginnings are always difficult but they always pass. I remember my first days in Malawi at the Kapondas’ home filled with excitement but also loneliness and boredom. Now, here I am again in a similar predicament. This need to start life over again and again, to experience new countries and cultures, is at times a burdensome compulsion. However, I doubt this realization will prevent future reoccurrences. At least this time we are two and at least Clement survived culture shock and successfully made a few friends last semester.
Ghana is lot hotter than Malawi. The heat feels like Texas but Accra lacks the ubiquitous air conditioners present in nearly every home and shop in Austin. I don’t mind the heat. I much prefer this climate to the cold but Clement struggles with it. The streets are busier than Malawi; people move faster, are more assertive, more willing to express their opinions, and more likely to start a conversation. There is a wide variety of street food, of which I can only identify a handful, but I’m eager to taste it. In general the food is delicious and spicy but our encounters with vegetables have been minimal. I have only seen three green vegetables in the market – okra, a local green leafy vegetable, and lettuce and usually when they end up on your plate you must search for tiny flakes of green. Vendors flow up and down every street hurrying to make transactions through car and bus windows during pauses at intersections then swiftly jumping aside when the traffic movement resumes. Unlike Malawi the vendors here on the street and in the shops are mostly women and girls. I wonder about their education and their safety. The predominant local language is Twi (pronounced tree) but many people do speak English. Although there are very few faces which are obviously not African people don’t seem to take much notice of me and Clement. There are definitely fewer beautiful development aid vehicles cruising the streets than in Malawi - perhaps a sign of a more independent economy.
The most difficult part of moving is always the lack of friendship and this of course takes time. Wherever I walk small children shout oblonie (white person) and wave. One day as I was walking home with groceries in my arms I heard a small voice yell, "Can I help you?" followed by the patter of small feet. A group of young students in the school uniforms took my bags and escorted me home. Another day when Clement and I stopped to discuss directions on a street corner and a group of five little girls maybe 7 and 8 years old all came up to me and gave me hugs one by one, the last one planted a kiss on my belly. Not a bad welcome.
As soon as we passed through immigration in Accra we found Clement’s classmate Moses waiting for us at the baggage claim with a warm smile. He brought us home to his wife and two little boys. So here we are in their home with all our earthly possession in four bags. We have no home and little idea of what will come in the next days, weeks, months. I must consciously remind myself that beginnings are always difficult but they always pass. I remember my first days in Malawi at the Kapondas’ home filled with excitement but also loneliness and boredom. Now, here I am again in a similar predicament. This need to start life over again and again, to experience new countries and cultures, is at times a burdensome compulsion. However, I doubt this realization will prevent future reoccurrences. At least this time we are two and at least Clement survived culture shock and successfully made a few friends last semester.
Ghana is lot hotter than Malawi. The heat feels like Texas but Accra lacks the ubiquitous air conditioners present in nearly every home and shop in Austin. I don’t mind the heat. I much prefer this climate to the cold but Clement struggles with it. The streets are busier than Malawi; people move faster, are more assertive, more willing to express their opinions, and more likely to start a conversation. There is a wide variety of street food, of which I can only identify a handful, but I’m eager to taste it. In general the food is delicious and spicy but our encounters with vegetables have been minimal. I have only seen three green vegetables in the market – okra, a local green leafy vegetable, and lettuce and usually when they end up on your plate you must search for tiny flakes of green. Vendors flow up and down every street hurrying to make transactions through car and bus windows during pauses at intersections then swiftly jumping aside when the traffic movement resumes. Unlike Malawi the vendors here on the street and in the shops are mostly women and girls. I wonder about their education and their safety. The predominant local language is Twi (pronounced tree) but many people do speak English. Although there are very few faces which are obviously not African people don’t seem to take much notice of me and Clement. There are definitely fewer beautiful development aid vehicles cruising the streets than in Malawi - perhaps a sign of a more independent economy.
The most difficult part of moving is always the lack of friendship and this of course takes time. Wherever I walk small children shout oblonie (white person) and wave. One day as I was walking home with groceries in my arms I heard a small voice yell, "Can I help you?" followed by the patter of small feet. A group of young students in the school uniforms took my bags and escorted me home. Another day when Clement and I stopped to discuss directions on a street corner and a group of five little girls maybe 7 and 8 years old all came up to me and gave me hugs one by one, the last one planted a kiss on my belly. Not a bad welcome.
2 comments:
What a small world - - I just flew home from Ghana on the 23rd!
In your hunt for ice cream, you have 3 readily available options:
fan yogo - a strawberry frozen yogurt concoction
fan ice - like a cross between whipping cream and vanilla ice cream
fan choco - like frozen chocolate milk (my fav of the three).
You'll see vendors (usually guys in this case) with a cardboard box on their head which one side is cut out of. Just yell out the window for whichever item you want and they'll come running. They cost 30 or 40 pesway each.
As for chocolate, that is a little trickier right now as the factory in Accra is under renovation. A few vendors still have Kingsbite milk chocolate. A medium bar is 1 cedi. A large bar is 1 cedi and 50 pesway. If you're desparate for a taste of North American chocolate, some of the larger gas stations carry things like snickers and mars in the cooler.
Hope this helps! If there's anything I can do from here, to help you adjust to life in Ghana, let me know!
sarahthedoula
Sarah, Thanks for the tips. I tasted fanyogo already and like it, I'll have to try fanchoco. I heard that there is a proper ice cream store in Kumasi. I'll believe it when I see it but the thought of its existence is exciting. : )
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