Traditional Kente Cloth

Wli Waterfall, Volta Region, Ghana

Ghanian Sunset

In the course of getting to know my new town I’ve been trying to find a good seamstress… I’ve taken a liking to one as she speaks pretty good English and has been helping me with my Ewe… so I took a dress I had made in hopes that she could turn it into a skirt. She took my measurements; I handed over the dress and was on my way. A few days later I went by to see if it was finished and she pulls me aside and then begins to tell me that 18” (falling just above my knees) is WAY to short so she opted to make my skirt 20” in length…

Its true, in all the reading I did before I left for Ghana I found that legs (more or less to the knee) is to be covered, where as the breasts hang out like yard sale items, waving in the wind but better keep the legs hidden… top secret.

I still don’t understand the dress code in Ghana… Sometimes women are wearing very typical Ghanaian clothing; a frilly shirt of some African print, with puffed sleeves, a zipper up the back and a full length skirt of matching material with another two yards of the same cloth wrapped around the waist (I don’t know how they aren’t dying of heat exhaustion). Other times they are dressing western, wearing jeans and tank tops. “But the men, now that is a course of a different color. They dress up in every different way in the world: some have long shirts made from the same African cloth that is attired by the women. Or they’ll wear a bolt of it draped over one shoulder in the style of Hercules. Other wear American-style buttoned shirts and shorts in drab, stained colors. A few of the smaller men even go gallivanting around in little undershirts decorated with childish prints, and nobody seems to notice the joke.” (Poisonwood Bible, Barbra Kingsolver) Children run around in anything… or nothing at all. They typically dress is the rag bags of church charities, not giving a care to if the item is ripped, is covered in lace or is way to small or big.

Kids don’t care if their clothing is ripped exposing their butt or their chest. They don’t try to hide anything… peeing and bathing in front of everyone, and my favorite is when they try to have a conversation with all the while... (I just laugh and walk away) Most of the time kids are running around in baggy underpants giving no care to the world.

In Ghana patience is a virtue… I’m learning.

Example 1:

Busses, cars, and tros don’t leave until they are full… completely maxed out with about 10 more people than seats. And there is no set schedule when a vehicle is going to leave or when it is to arrive…

So the other day after one of my Hohoe excursions I went to the lorry station to catch a tro back to Kute… I was the second person to arrive that needed to go to Kute, and being that it was the larger bus that was going to Kute it was going to take FOREVER to fill. As I’ve been taught to always bring a book to read, and maybe even a second. I sat and waited, and waited and waited some more for the tro to fill. I could of gone off and done some shopping or gotten on the internet, but the vehicle leaves when its full, and I never know when that’s going to be. 4 hours later the tro was filled (I realized I could of biked home faster than taking a vehicle). Time to get my own set of wheels… two wheels.

Example 2:

Ghanaians work on their own time, and now I fully understand why it takes FOREVER to get anything done. I’ve been getting furniture made for my room (I really have no desire to sit in plastic chairs to hang out in for the next two years) so I’ve befriended a carpenter in town and I asked him to make me a chair thing… something, anything other than plastic. He agreed and asked when I wanted it by. I said next Friday (giving him 10 days) and he said he would get it done much faster than that… (yeah right). Friday rolled around… he was out of town. Sunday I saw him and he said that he would start on Monday…And I got it on the following Friday… Woot Woot.

Example 3:

I asked for a piece of land to farm on (more or less have my own garden so I can attempt to grow some other veggies that don’t exist in Ghana). I asked when I came for site visit… 2 months ago… and I’m still waiting. I ask my counter part about once a week if they have found a plot of land yet that I can farm and her answer is always the same… “yes” (but Ghanaians say yes to anything and everything because they don’t like to tell you they don’t know or want to be wrong). And then I ask if I can see it and she always responds with “I’m coming” (another typical thing to say in Ghana when really they are telling you they will be right back) and then she leaves… and when she does come back she tells me tomorrow… tomorrow has come and gone…

Example 4:

I’m suppose to be working with a group of farmers… suppose to be… and they keep telling me that I’ll meet them soon… when, who knows… I’m starting to wonder if there are really farmers… be patient Molly.

This morning I had this marvelous idea to paint my kitchen. I asked my counter part where I could get some pain and a brush... she went out and got me some 'paint' and found a rustic, old brush (I was laughing at how pathetic a brush it was), and away I started… after the first 5 strokes I realized that it was SUCH a bad idea…

My ‘stove room’ as I like to call it, was a nice baby blue color with streaks of dirt, random holes, and various spots where things had been re-plastered (and by re-plastered I mean re-mudded). My counterpart got a bucket and poured some water into it and then grabbed a handful of think white paint and started to mix… I suddenly had this realization that I wasn’t in America at some hardware store watching my paint get mixed… (its been taking a while to sink in that I’m really living in AFRICA). So with a watered down white mix I started to brush ‘paint’ onto to the walls trying to cover up the baby blue… about 5 hours later and only 2/3 of the way done, my walls looked like the sky with high clouds, just barley covering up the blue…

The family who’s compound I’m living in kept walking by and laughing at me, and finally they told me that they would finish it for me tomorrow… ahhh, big sigh of relief. Note to self don’t paint another room while living in Ghana… unless you have all the right utensils and good quality paint.

Let it Rain, Let it Rain, Let it Rain

Optical illusion, I don't think so.

Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday dear Molly, Happy Birthday to Me!

24, older and wiser, I’m guessing that’s how saying goes… Older yes, wiser… well I guess that depends on whom you’re talking to. I would say, “but of course I’m wiser” but really am I?

I’ve been working on getting settled, ‘playing house,’ making my two rooms feel, well not like a cement holding cell… I’ve luckily got a bed, double bed (non of this sleeping on a single anymore) with my mosquito net (more my safety net from bugs, rodents, amphibians, and other critters that might try to make their way in) hovering just above my bed (its pretty comical as I tuck my mosquito net in at night, making sure that my little haven is all secure). My bed is tucked in the far right corner to allow for the most room. I’ve so far had two bookshelves made (I gave the guy a picture of what I wanted, and he went with what he wanted… at least it keeps my things from being on the ground.) I’ve put one bookshelf up against the wall at the end of my bed and the other sits next to my bed underneath my teeny, tiny window (I’m thinking I’m going to have another one punched out of the cement to allow for more light and air flow). I was given four plastic chairs (they are a prized item in Ghana) that have the Swastika drawn into them (pleasant) all stacked in the other corner (not really where I want to hang out… sitting in plastic chairs in this heat… fun).

My kitchen is a little more ‘set up’ so to say. My supervisor made sure that I had a propane stove and tank waiting for me as I moved to Kute (thank goodness). My stove sits on a table that was here when I arrived on the right side of the room, and across from it on the left I have a smaller table that is holding all my dry foods. I’ve been keeping everything in zip lock bags (and some items doubled bagged), and then in a plastic container, but some how the ants still seem to find their way in (extra protein, right?)

In Ghana there are no kitchens (well maybe in the cities, but where I’m living, I’m probably the only person to have an actual kitchen, and I should more call it a stove room, as there is only a stove and a shelf for food… no kitchen sink, no cabinets, no counters, no oven, no microwave, refrigerator, or dishwasher.) I’m thinking (and more going to act upon it soon) of getting a refrigerator. Cooking has been thus far great (as I love to cook for my self) but it’s a project… huge project… overwhelmingly huge project. I can only cook an amount that I know I can eat right then and there. I can’t really store leftovers, and throwing out food… well I just don’t have a system down of where it can go and such (although the roaming goats I’m sure will love it). And making big messes… well again I can’t just turn on the water and wash everything, or throw it in the dishwasher now can I? This is like glorified camping… using water sparsely, bathing with river water, trying to keep the critters out, and always (yes I mean ALWAYS) smelling. This is the life.

I can’t complain with the bucket bath though. I mean running water is amazing… but a bucket bathing is amazing in it’s own way. The stars are usually out at night, last week was a full moon, and who can go wrong with bathing outside under a full moon in the tropics of Ghana? I was given a water heater (and yes it is hot… very hot here in Ghana… but having a warm bath just makes me feel that much cleaner… and remember I’m probably not going to be ‘clean’ in two or so years.)

I have my own latrine… all for me, myself and all the critters that have found their way there. Latrines are again not that common in rural communities… most people defecate somewhere in the bush (very, very bad) and they urinate wherever, whenever… pleasant.

I’ve just encountered my first frustration… I’m sure its minor in the grand scheme of things, but currently as I’m writing about it, it’s annoying, and frustrating me….

I got up this morning with full intentions of doing my ‘own’ wash (laundry), I gathered some of my dirty clothing (as the laundry line isn’t large enough to hold many or all my things at once), and as I started washing my first few items and hanging them on the line my counterpart came over…

Great lady so far, except that she MUST do everything for me… Every morning thus far she is sitting outside my room waiting for me to get up. She then follows my into my kitchen to sweep it out, then she sweeps my room (I’ve started drawing the line with me room), then she empties my trash. If she sees me cooking she’ll take all my dirty dishes and start washing them, and if she is given the opportunity to take over my cooking, she will, telling me that I’m doing it wrong (I wonder what they think we eat in the US if they think I have the inability to cook?)… arrggggg.

So as she saw me washing my clothing she quickly took everything off the line that I had already washed, grabbed another bucket and started to rewash them… as if I have the inability to wash my own clothing… not sure, but seriously does she not think in the US that we do anything…? (Now maybe in 6 months time I’ll really enjoy having her, or someone else for that matter, do my wash, but when I struggling to fill up the day with things to do, taking three hours to wash my clothing is great because that’s three hours that I don’t have to think about what to do.)

I’m curious how I’m really suppose to help these people out when they freak out if they think I’ve been doing something too hard… carrying my bath water, fetching pure drinking water (“Sister Abra, why didn’t you send someone to fetch it for you?”), going running, or even pounding fufu (“Sister Abra, you must be tired?”)

So when I tell them that I worked on a farm before coming here, they look at me, laugh and shake their head saying “No” and I look at them saying “Yes” and again they shake their head saying “No.”

Its not like I’m some teeny, tiny, weak, link. I like to do manual labor, I enjoy cooking my own food, keeping my place clean and organized, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m enjoying washing my clothing by hands (although in the states doing laundry is by far my least favorite thing to do, well that and pumping gas but I don’t have to worry about that here.) So if farming is my main project and I’m suppose to go farm with the farmer (yet they wont let me go) then???? Great question, I’m wondering the same thing?