Joy and Pain

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day” – Rainer Maria Rilke

Care package arrival makes for a wonderful day. Pepperoni, nacho cheese, crackers, sausage, oreos, ramen noodles, twizzlers, peanut butter, oatmeal, fiber bars, and more! Every delicious overly processed American snack you can imagine, which is exactly what my bad attitude needs. Yes, I know, Ghana is loaded with delicious fresh fruits and vegetables. And you know what, I will eat those with pleasure, but I will also gladly indulge in terribly unhealthy snacks for the pure simple joy it brings in helping connect me to my American life.

I absolutely understand the purpose of solitary confinement. The presence of people is like a soothing remedy to an ailing body. Loneliness is a darkness that slowly creeps up and then, bam, just like that, you’re down for the count. I am living on a college campus surrounded by hundreds of people, but I have never felt more alone in my life. Each day I eat my breakfast and lunch in the staff room. Generally, it is ten to fifteen men and me. The only English I hear is directed at me and it consists of, “Good morning Abena. How are you?” The end. The women are off in their bungalows or have left campus to be with their husbands and children. I know it doesn’t matter to wish, but I really envy my fellow teaching friends who are living with other volunteers. At this point in my life, I know myself better than ever. However, this new experience is teaching me how much I need people. Interactions with people. Conversations with people. Physical contact with people. Yes, there are people here, but interactions and conversations are very minimal, and the physical contact is obviously not anywhere on the agenda at this point. “But Amy, you lived alone in Chicago.” What you are all thinking I’m sure. In Chicago though, on any given day at any given time, I could connect with people: Starbucks, dog beach, bookstores, restaurants, movie theaters, stores and the list goes on. All places that I will gladly venture to on my own. But alone in Ghana is a whole new ball game and one I fear I am losing terribly. But, on a more joyous note, two weeks until a journey to Accra to visit some friends. I am counting down the days!

I went to Sunyani today, and am certain that I was scammed. A friend of a friend accompanied me to a lawyer, because I needed a document notarized. Here in Ghana, lawyers also serve as notary publics. This friend of a friend had one lawyer in mind, but that particular individual was out of town. Therefore, we were directed to a different man. Upon entering his office, he informed me that a photograph would be taken of me witnessing him signing the document to ensure that it is considered legit and no one can say that anyone but him did indeed sign the document. Fine, though I explained that I didn’t need a photo, he insisted. Several minutes later, he then asked me how much I was going to pay him. Well, I responded by asking how much the cost of this service was. He laughed and laughed and went on to ask how much I would give him. I said I did not know what was considered appropriate in this situation (which now looking back, I should have done more research), because in America banking institutions provided this service free of charge. He laughed and laughed again and asked me how much money I had with me. At this point, I was getting very frustrated and upset because I just had no idea what to do or say and I was so worried about saying the wrong thing and offending anyone. Obviously, I’m still trying to figure out what is culturally acceptable and what is not, and I didn’t want to say some ridiculous amount and have this guy refuse to provide the damn signature. I needed this man’s signature and stamp, and he knew it, so he was taking advantage of my ignorance, and I believe, white skin. My annoyance led me to tell him that I did not find this situation at all amusing and would he please just tell me how much it costs. Again, he asked how much money I had. I told him an amount of money that was actually much less than what I really had, but it was still plenty. (Again looking back, I should have given an even lower figure). He gave his ridiculously high price of 100GHC, which is about $60. I handed over the money, and he gave 20GHC back to me. Oh gee, thanks ***hole. Needless to say, I walked out shocked and disturbed and really pissed off. I just really thought the whole thing was rather rude. I had no idea I would have to negotiate for such a service. Call me crazy, but I figured a lawyer would have pre-determined fees for specific services. If not, fine, but I'm absolutely certain that laughing at me and bullying me into payment wasn't necessary or part of this guy's job description. The woman who escorted me was even surprised by this whole thing. She believed it would be free of charge, or at least a much lower price, and she later apologized to my friend for this situation and the lawyer’s attitude towards me. The fun continued when twenty minutes later I waited in line for one hour at the bank to withdraw money because I do not yet have an ATM card, and then walked down the street to FedEx where I spent $40 to send three pieces of paper to my parents. Sigh….yay Ghana (note sarcasm) L

Something New

A man practices the art of adventure when he breaks the chain of routine and renews his life through reading new books, traveling to new places, making new friends, taking up new hobbies and adopting new viewpoints. -- Wilfred Peterson

I had the most lovely Saturday traveling to a new city, Sunyani, with a new friend, Ameyaw (O-may-ow).

Sunyani is about 40 minutes northwest of Bechem. A 2GH taxi ride and we were there! Taxi drivers aren’t messing around here. 80+mph isn’t uncommon. I just made sure to hold on tight and enjoy the scenery, trying to keep my mind off of the potential for death by speed. Upon arrival, a quick stop at the bank and a bookshop. Sunyani is a much calmer version of Kumasi. All of the same items can be found here, but without the overwhelming crowds and insanely crowded streets. Large chicken coops are found along the streets filled to the brim. You can purchase a live chicken to take home with you for dinner!

First, we stopped at the Eusbett hotel for a drink, where in the nice refreshing pool there was a statue of a little boy urinating. ?? Not entirely sure I understand the symbolism of that, except just to get a chuckle out of everyone. Afterwards, we had lunch at a restaurant where soccer was the main attraction and everyone’s attention was directed at the television. This is serious business! Apparently, people have a team and they stick by it. Ameyaw was very kind and checked to be sure that I was comfortable there, which I’m guessing he asked because I was the only white person in the room. It was all good. Considering the soccer game, I wasn’t of much interest. Just fine by me! Following lunch, we ventured outside of Sunyani for a nice visit to Ameyaw’s aunt. The quiet of the smaller communities is nice. Neighbors cross over into each other’s yards with ease, everyone greets everyone, and the loudest sounds you hear are that of the chickens. No traffic or loudspeakers announcing what beliefs you should have, which is exactly what you get in larger cities here. Everyone’s yard is it’s own garden. Plantain and paw paw trees, cassava plants, pineapple sprouting from the ground, orange trees, and cocoa yam. All of this right at your fingertips! Simply lovely!

At the end of this most wonderful day, I arrived home and was hit with the most uncomfortable case of indigestion. I never have this problem at home. It feels like something is stuck in my chest and I really want to burp, but I can’t! I didn’t eat anything different or new, so I’m not really sure what is sparking this little dilemma. I hope this Zantac saves me. :/ Strange things happening to my body, especially while I’m over here, makes me nervous…

Throughout the last few days I have picked up a few more Twi words. I’m learning…slowly and surely. Friday, while I was teaching, one of the Twi teachers here at the university came into my class while I was reading aloud a poem. She giggled a bit, which prompted even more giggling from the class. Madam Mary announced that no one could understand me because of the difference in tones and stresses when I am speaking or reading. Yea lady, I get it. But you don’t see me laughing at people here when they speak. I just focus and concentrate and TRY. Most of the students are doing just that, but those few chuckles made for a somewhat humiliating feeling. Though we all speak some of the same English words, the way we pronounce some of them is very different, so it sounds like completely different words. For example, when I say “star”, you hear the sound of the r at the end of the word. However, when a Ghanaian says “star”, it sounds more like “sta”, with no sound of r. Also, the letter t gets enunciated very sharply here. When I say “peanut butter”, it almost sounds more like “budder”, but Ghanaians sound like “butta” with super sharp ts. So, even beyond the Twi challenge like the English challenge! Yippee-do-da-day.