Irritibility and Irresistibility

I have had a very frustrating day. Perhaps the most frustrating day of my time here thus far. It seems as though everything today is late--late or missing altogether. I had a make-up class scheduled for 8 am. The majority of the students did not begin to appear until 8:30. I mentioned this to my roommate, and she brushed it off, saying that Ghanaians have a different conception of time than Americans do--than I do. It just seems so disrespectful to me. It is a waste of the professor's time. And my time. I am trying to remind myself to moderate my frustration. I am in a foreign country. There are bound to be differences. But this is just ingrained in my psyche. It is common courtesy. You show up for class prepared and on time, or you should not even bother. To make matters worse, I had a meeting scheduled with one of my professors for this afternoon, and he didn't show. He wasn't in his office and none of the department office staff knew anything.
I am actually surprised that I haven't had a day like this before this. Maybe I have and it just hasn't upset me as much as today has.
On a brighter note, Caitlyn and I went to see a seamstress today. We went to Medina on Saturday, the large open market near campus. We were able to find two patterns that suit both of us. We wanted to buy GTP, the Ghanaian brand of cloth. It is rather expensive--relative to everything else that is available here, that is (the only kind of cloth that is more expensive are the really beautiful Dutch wax prints)--and is only sold in six yard pieces. Six yards is a bit too much for one person, but it is a perfect length to split between two people! Both pieces are blue. But one is a pale blue, almost sea-foam, with rust red flowers and arabesques. It is feminine and lovely. The other is a bright pattern of birds and trees in cerulean, hot pink, and purple; I was drawn to it from across the room. It is playful and beautiful. The cloth made here is all so beautiful. I picked a lovely, low-back pattern for the light blue and an empire-waist halter dress for the bright blue. I'll post pictures when I get them back!

A News Update...

So, some updates:

1. The American in the room next to mine has cholera. Lovely!
2. The water in my building has been out for a week.
3. The strike is over, but, so far, there will not be any changes in the finals schedule, despite the 2½ weeks of missed class. 
4.  My roommate’s mother has been in the hospital for several weeks. She is so stressed; I wish that I could help her somehow.
5. There is a lizard trapped in my room. I can’t figure out how to encourage it to leave…

Yeah. I am ready to come home. Home to water that does not shut off. Home to reliable wifi. But, as I have only five weeks left in Ghana, I have suddenly realized that I have so many things left to do! I still have the trip to Winneba for the hunting festival in May. I have to figure out when I can make it up to Mole, the National Park where you can get within twenty meters of elephants! And there are several things in Accra that I still want to see—the National Museum and a market known for its bead selection, for example. And I have to get ready for finals, too! Ach! My perception of time has shifted once again! In February, I had all the time in the world. Now, I have only five weeks. Of course, three of those weeks will be mostly free time, as more time is allotted for finals here. I have two free weeks before my first final. They did give us specific instructions advising us not to travel during finals week…but pretty much everyone is anyway… So much to do and think about in so little time!

The Borrowers

Another thing that I have noticed about Ghana is the seemingly random way in which Ghanaians borrow from other cultures. The most obvious source, of course, is the British. The British controlled Ghana for seventy-three years—some things were bound to rub off. Language is, again, the obvious legacy. But there are other, less sensible remnants of British culture. For example, Ghanaians use the British method of numbering floors. My room number is in the two hundreds but my room is on the third floor! This is one British idiosyncrasy that does not amuse this anglophile. But Ghanaians drive on the right side of the road—both literally and metaphorically—as per the American system. But there does seem to be the general disregard for the rules of the road that is so common outside of the US. I am reminded of the stories my father tells of driving in Peru and of tales of maniacal Italian drivers. Positions and organizations tend to have British-style names and structures. The UG, for example, calls the vast majority of the teachers here lecturers rather than professors. There are also such things as class prefects—by which I am very amused. But there is an underlying tendency here to downplay the Ghanaian relationship with anything British, which makes noticing the changes all the more interesting. There are many other influences on Ghanaian society and culture. The Chinese are a huge new presence in the last decade or so. Everywhere in downtown Accra there are buildings underway—buildings built by Chinese companies, for Chinese companies, with Chinese funding. All of the Asians in my  group are routinely mistaken for Chinese (much to my Cambodian friend’s dismay). There are also lesser cultural influences: Indian, Lebanese, French (from the French colonies on either side of Ghana—Cote d'Ivoire and Togo). Then there are the numerous ethnic groups within Ghana with different traditions. Life in Accra is a mélange of colors, flavors, sounds—from all of the very different people who have made the capitol city their home.

A Bit about Food...

I’ve realized that I have yet to say anything about Ghanaian food. About half of what I eat here could probably be considered Ghanaian; the rest I cook myself or is basic enough—eggs, for example—to be relatively universal. The Ghanaian diet is largely based on different varieties of stew and on rice. The stews are generally served with some form of carbohydrate base—sometimes within the stew itself. Fufu, for example, a typical dish that is served throughout West Africa, consists of a ball of pounded yam and plantain dough served in a soup with some form of protein—fish, chicken, goat. Banku is a fermented maize and cassava meal that is served with a variety of soups and stews. Groundnut, or peanut, soup, is a delicacy here. It is very difficult to prepare correctly. Ghanaians also make soups with spinach, okra, and fish. One of my favorites is a dish called red-red. Red-red is a bean stew that is served with fried plantains and rice.

One thing that bothers me is the selection of fruit available locally. Fruit is plentiful—mangoes, pineapples, bananas, plantains, papaya, watermelon, oranges—but they are not fruits that I particularly enjoy. I am definitely more partial to European fruits than tropical ones (I will readily eat apples, pears, peaches, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, cranberries, cherries, etc.). I find myself surviving on dried fruit imported from South Africa—apricots, apples, raisins.

There are other dishes that are common but not necessarily local—fried rice, spring rolls, baked beans, chips (French fries), tomatoes, avocadoes, pasta. Jollof rice, rice and vegetables with a tomato sauce, is everywhere. Waakye, the local rice and beans, is even considered traditional—even though rice is a relatively new thing in West Africa.

In general, food here is filling and tasty but not particularly varied. I started craving Thai, Mexican, Indian, almost as soon as I got here. My arrival back in the states will probably be followed by an extensive gastronomic tour of Chicago’s widely varied and delicious cuisine!

Strike!

The lecturers at UG are on strike. Apparently they are not getting paid. In general, this would be a very bad thing. Everyone deserves to be paid--and paid a fair wage--for the work they do. But this is very inconvenient for me. I am torn between their right to strike and my own concerns. I really have no idea what it will mean for international students if the strike goes on much longer. They have to give us some sort of credit for being here. We pay for it, after all--unlike the Ghanaian students. I can't stay longer, if they end up extending the semester. I have to be in Iowa in June.
So, what to do? I have no idea.
I think that, generally, professors are highly under-appreciated. They do a lot more work than most people give them credit for--with research and publishing and teaching. It is very difficult to carve out a career in academia. But there are professors who manage to inspire students and to be rigorous scholars. Although, I think that it must be easier for people in the humanities--the very root of the word implies that human interaction is required. And if I ever end up teaching at the university level, I hope I am appreciated for what I do. I hope that I am appreciated no matter what I do.
So, yes, a strike. I'll write more when I know more...

Tressie, Taylor and Caitlyn on one our first days at the university...such beautiful colonial architecture!

For My Mother, Pictures

The Ghanaian version of the bat cave...

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Kente, kente, kente...

And more kente...

Making Adinkra dye...

And Adinkra symbols...

Our very mature tour guide, Joe...

And Ada Foah... huts on the beach....

A little bit of paradise...

In Which I Drink Coffee

I’m sitting in my first coffee shop since I left home. There are a few coffee shops in Accra, in the areas that cater to wealthy Ghanaians and Westerns—Oxford Street in Osu. But coffee is not a big thing here, much to my chagrin. Most of what they do have here is instant coffee, which is definitely not my favorite. But I found a coffee shop in somewhat close proximity to campus. It is across the highway from the International Programs Office, so I have to go a bit out of my way to get there. But I think it’s worth it. The coffee shop is attached to a grocery store that carries mostly American and British products. It is interesting to see what the various supermarkets in Accra carry; their inventory reveals a lot about who owns them. Shoprite is a South African chain. It was a bit surreal to see one here, as I’ve only ever read about them in South African novels. Things there are generally produced in South Africa or in India and the rest of South Asia. I take an unholy amount of pleasure in determining where the different brands of cookies and processed goods come from. There is also a supermarket in Marina Mall near the Accra airport. It is obviously owned and managed by someone from Lebanon. I have encountered several Lebanese expats in Accra, but the really telling thing is the fact that the Lebanese supermarket carries French products as well as Middle Eastern. 

Shopping at supermarkets is a very "obruni," or white person, thing to do. But I don't really know how to go to an open market to shop--especially if I am expected to bargain. Going to the Evanston Farmer's Market could hardly have prepared me for the open markets--Medina in Legon or Makola in Accra. But I know supermarkets. And it is comforting to shop in a familiar setting.