"There's no place like home." - Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz
There is something refreshingly sweet about being home. And I am not referring to home in terms of a house, or even a neighborhood, a city or a state, but a country. It is lovely to be back in the States.
I marvelled first thing at how deep the sinks are here and thrilled myself with a long hot shower for the first time in months. In the midst of seeing friends and their little ones before leaving NYC, I also got my hair blown out (ahhhh the luxury!) and gorged myself on Korean BBQ.
I haven't been able to sleep past 7 am and I find myself throughly exhausted by 10 pm. I suppose I should get used to that. I am still processing the trip, still mulling it over. Some part of me feels as if the self that has come back from Africa is a shadow and that I have left shadows of myself in all of the places that I have visited. And another part of me feels so much more enriched, whole, compassionate, resourceful, patient, and... connected... from having had those experiences.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Memories
"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." - Anatole France
The symbol used in the 0 of Ghana's 50th celebration is known as 'Gye Nyame'. The literal translation is 'Except God' but the metaphorical translation is 'God the Omnipotent.'
Thinking back on the book 'Weep, Not Child'...it offered another perspective to the famous book 'I Dreamed of Africa' (later turned into a movie starring Michelle Pfeiffer) which I found in the Andoh household and quickly read. The latter offers the perspective of an Italian woman who along with her husband feels drawn to Africa and they settle in Kenya, buy land and farm. The former is the perspective of Kenyans who fought in one of Britain's wars because they had to, only to return home to discover their ancestral lands had been parcelled off and sold to settlers. They talk of the day when their ancestral land will be theirs again and seem confused as to why the settlers want to claim land in their country when they have a home country. As a result the Kenyans are now almost squatters or sharecroppers on land that used to be theirs. It definitely adds a sordid twist to the 'I Dream of Africa' story no matter how in love with the country or the continent the author was.
We woke up ridiculously early on Tuesday (4 am) to leave for the airport by 6. In addition to Daddy Andoh's truck we also had a van come by to pick up all the luggage. I have never seen anything like the caravan of baggage carts that were needed for us. I think 6 carts total all packed high with luggage.
We went through 10 checkpoints before we could get on the plane. Because Mommy and Daddy Andoh have friends in high places they were able to accompany us to the point where you had to turn in an immigration form and show your boarding pass before they said goodbye. First we had to go to customs and declare the food; then we went to have the bags weighed; then we had to have the baggage tags stamped, then we had to check-in; then we had to open our baggage. (Unfortunately Eugene thought customs was the last time they would need to look in the bags and he had locked them and didn't know which lock went with which key so it took a while to open the 16 checked bags.) With all those bags we just claimed the ones nearest to us. It took us an hour and a half to get to that point. One of my two checked was mine; the other actually belonged to Evelyn which I found out when they opened it and I saw her clothes, purses and shoes. Did I pack my bags myself? Hmm yes. Does it really matter since we are all traveling together and going to the Andoh household in NYC before dispersing?
After all that confusion we filled out immigration forms and went through an ID checkpoint at which point we said goodbye to Mummy and Daddy Andoh. Then we had to talk with immigration and get our visas checked. Then we had an x-ray. After that we had a patdown and carryon search and everyone who had a rollerboard carryon that was not accompanied by a child had to turn it in to be stowed under the plane. Whew! And then we sat and waited in a hotbox narrow room that was set up like an airplane with a center aisle and rows of seats. We saw all the tourists sporting their new ethnic clothing, jewelry and hairstles, many in overkill mode.
I didn't realize until we boarded and stowed our things, taxied to the runway and took off that I had been holding my breath somewhere in the back of my mind, thinking that something would go wrong with me leaving the way it had before. A while later we bypassed Bamako on the satellite map and I was secretly happy that I did not have to stop back through the city to get another flight.
And then my time in Bamako and my time in Ghana began replaying in my head. The friends I had made, the food I tasted, the sights I saw, the adventures that shocked and entertained me, the customs I learned...was it real? or had I made it all up with my vivid imagination? I assured myself that it was indeed real and I settled back into my seat with no need for the feature films. Rather I closed my eyes and enjoyed the memories that played across the backs of my eyelids.
The symbol used in the 0 of Ghana's 50th celebration is known as 'Gye Nyame'. The literal translation is 'Except God' but the metaphorical translation is 'God the Omnipotent.'
Thinking back on the book 'Weep, Not Child'...it offered another perspective to the famous book 'I Dreamed of Africa' (later turned into a movie starring Michelle Pfeiffer) which I found in the Andoh household and quickly read. The latter offers the perspective of an Italian woman who along with her husband feels drawn to Africa and they settle in Kenya, buy land and farm. The former is the perspective of Kenyans who fought in one of Britain's wars because they had to, only to return home to discover their ancestral lands had been parcelled off and sold to settlers. They talk of the day when their ancestral land will be theirs again and seem confused as to why the settlers want to claim land in their country when they have a home country. As a result the Kenyans are now almost squatters or sharecroppers on land that used to be theirs. It definitely adds a sordid twist to the 'I Dream of Africa' story no matter how in love with the country or the continent the author was.
We woke up ridiculously early on Tuesday (4 am) to leave for the airport by 6. In addition to Daddy Andoh's truck we also had a van come by to pick up all the luggage. I have never seen anything like the caravan of baggage carts that were needed for us. I think 6 carts total all packed high with luggage.
We went through 10 checkpoints before we could get on the plane. Because Mommy and Daddy Andoh have friends in high places they were able to accompany us to the point where you had to turn in an immigration form and show your boarding pass before they said goodbye. First we had to go to customs and declare the food; then we went to have the bags weighed; then we had to have the baggage tags stamped, then we had to check-in; then we had to open our baggage. (Unfortunately Eugene thought customs was the last time they would need to look in the bags and he had locked them and didn't know which lock went with which key so it took a while to open the 16 checked bags.) With all those bags we just claimed the ones nearest to us. It took us an hour and a half to get to that point. One of my two checked was mine; the other actually belonged to Evelyn which I found out when they opened it and I saw her clothes, purses and shoes. Did I pack my bags myself? Hmm yes. Does it really matter since we are all traveling together and going to the Andoh household in NYC before dispersing?
After all that confusion we filled out immigration forms and went through an ID checkpoint at which point we said goodbye to Mummy and Daddy Andoh. Then we had to talk with immigration and get our visas checked. Then we had an x-ray. After that we had a patdown and carryon search and everyone who had a rollerboard carryon that was not accompanied by a child had to turn it in to be stowed under the plane. Whew! And then we sat and waited in a hotbox narrow room that was set up like an airplane with a center aisle and rows of seats. We saw all the tourists sporting their new ethnic clothing, jewelry and hairstles, many in overkill mode.
I didn't realize until we boarded and stowed our things, taxied to the runway and took off that I had been holding my breath somewhere in the back of my mind, thinking that something would go wrong with me leaving the way it had before. A while later we bypassed Bamako on the satellite map and I was secretly happy that I did not have to stop back through the city to get another flight.
And then my time in Bamako and my time in Ghana began replaying in my head. The friends I had made, the food I tasted, the sights I saw, the adventures that shocked and entertained me, the customs I learned...was it real? or had I made it all up with my vivid imagination? I assured myself that it was indeed real and I settled back into my seat with no need for the feature films. Rather I closed my eyes and enjoyed the memories that played across the backs of my eyelids.
Monday, August 13, 2007
The Long Way Home
"Do you know the way to San Jose? I've been away so long, I may go wrong and lose my way..." - Burt Bacharach and Hal David
When we came from the market the other day we got kose which is a dumpling made from the dough of ground blackeyed peas. The markets are a cross-section of society and certainly I have not experienced the Ghana that would compare to the Mali I experienced. We heard a news program about the children who work in the market carrying belongings for people to their homes or cars. Many of them are sent down from villages by their parents to make money. They work everyday carrying ridiculously heavy loads on their heads that could surely cause issues with their insides and though they make money they have to pay for a place to sleep, water to bathe and a place to bathe and something to eat. By the time the day is over they have spent much if not all of their earnings so it is a never ending cycle. The place to sleep turns out to be right in the market. Shirley pointed it out as we passed and it wasn't inviting. Dirty and squalid came to mind.
The government is working on a program to get these children back home to their villages. They tried giving them money but it didn't work out. Now they are seeking out the parents and offering them training and seed funding so they can start a business and not require their children to work in such dangerous circumstances. The question is if this is actually solving anything or if more parents, eager for training and seed funding, will send their kids down to Accra to work.
There have been a few lovely meals planned for us recently. The first was at Auntie Naa's house the evening before I was originally scheduled to leave. Auntie Naa is Mummy Andoh's sister. Incidentally Mummy Andoh is also called Auntie Naa but I think they differ in the name that follows Naa for each. At any rate we sat out in the courtyard with music and enjoyed appetizer of chicken gizzards, which my grandmother has never been able to get me to eat but which I found to be quite tasty in Ghana, and buffet of salads, kenke, banku, grilled and fried fish, and chicken. When dusk closed in we doused ourselves with Off and talked while watching the night sky.
The next afternoon was a brunch that I was to have missed if I had caught my flight. However as we all know the flight did not happen. So I trooped with the rest to Auntie Vida's house. I'm still not clear how she fits into the picture so let's just say she's a family friend who loves to entertain. Her house is absolutely gorgeous and airy. We were served fresh pineapple juice and were anxiously awaiting what we were told would be a fabulous lunch.
It was there at Auntie Vida's that I was finally able to reach the travel agent who had purchased my ticket to Mali. I informed him of my situation and he said I would need to get in touch with the airline directly about my return flight from Bamako to NYC. Shirley and all the young adults would be leaving Tuesday morning and i dreaded to think of staying in Ghana indefinitely. Shirley's cousin found a seat on their return flight but it was expensive, though less expensive than previously thought. Since we only had a few hours before the close of the business day we thought it best to address the matter immediately. We excused ourselves, explained the issue and headed for the door and Auntie Vida provided a driver to take us to the airline office.
There I was told that I could either find a way back to Bamako (as if I hadn't tried that already) to try to fly standby on a flight from Bamako to Casablanca to NYC since they are booked through September or pay $1400 to fly from Accra to Casablanca where I could get the original second leg of my flight. We kept going around and around but these were the best two options they came up with. So I decided to take the seat on Shirley's flight since it was the same price but a direct flight. Thankfully they only required credit and thankfully Shirley had enough room on her card and was gracious enough to front it for me. (I am tempted to name my firstborn Shirley, even if it is a boy.) But honestly I didn't relax about the flight until I was actually on the plane...more about that later.
We returned an hour and a half later. Everyone had already eaten but we enjoyed our lunch nonetheless. We had two choices and I ate both simply because I want to try everything. I tried the eggplant stew first and it was very tasty and different from anything else I have had here. Then I tried the palm nut soup which I have had before but you never know if people make it differently. One of the best things about the palm nut soup is the slices of snail in it. Seriously...giant African snail and it is de-licious! I saw them live in the market and was happy I had tasted them before seeing them as they aren't the prettiest creatures. They have beautiful shells too. Funny thing is that I have always seen those big shells and never thought of the creatures who must have called them home. Dessert was delicate crepes.
And then we returned home to begin the job of packing. Friends and relatives came from everywhere ringing the doorbell bringing things they wanted sent to family in the New York region: dried fish, fabric, African herbal soap, black pepper paste, entire suitcases etc. Most of the stuff was not personal belongings but rather communal items and or things for others. I even dumped my stuff out of a smaller tote and into a bigger suitcase to accommodate some of Mummy Andoh's things. I have never seen anything like this packing production and it went on all night.
We watched the news and discovered that a lynching had taken place in a market in the city. Four men stole a woman's purse and jumped in a car. She pursued them with the help of a taxi driver and the pursuit ended in an accident. One thief jumped out with a gun and made off. The other three had no weapons and once publicly branded as thieves in the crowded market, the lynching began. I only know the end result, three men dead, their nude bodies next to pools of blood. One of the three did indeed have the woman's purse and another had a bag full of may different wallets and IDs, none of them his. I was shocked at the mob mentality and shocked that the news would show unclothed dead bodies.
Shirley said when she was young a group of men tried to break into a neighbor's house at night. Somemone woke up and fought them off and the sounds alerted their neighbors who poured out of their homes ready to fight. All it took was one person throwing a kerosene lamp at the would-be robbers and well...their aim was good so you know what happened after that.
Nana Yaw, Shirley's brother, is an architect and the other Nana Yaw (Eugene or Gino) is a mechanic. Both were called upon during their time in Ghana to put their concrete skills to work. Gino fixed Daddy Andoh's truck and Nana Yaw created plans for two houses (one just behind the one we stayed in) and the other for Eugene and Evelyn and a mausoleum for Uncle Prince's family. Since Shirley, Carol, and others just bought some land he should be busy into the future creating more plans. I asked him what aspects of a house were important in Ghana. He said enough space for entertaining and guests staying over, a shaded spot outside, more than one bathroom including a guest bathroom near the front door so all guests don't have to traipse through the house, and a large kitchen. I think the wrap-around porch would be an excellent feature to transport from the South of the US. Nana Yaw is working feverishly to finish the plans for the house in back before we leave so they can begin construction.
When we came from the market the other day we got kose which is a dumpling made from the dough of ground blackeyed peas. The markets are a cross-section of society and certainly I have not experienced the Ghana that would compare to the Mali I experienced. We heard a news program about the children who work in the market carrying belongings for people to their homes or cars. Many of them are sent down from villages by their parents to make money. They work everyday carrying ridiculously heavy loads on their heads that could surely cause issues with their insides and though they make money they have to pay for a place to sleep, water to bathe and a place to bathe and something to eat. By the time the day is over they have spent much if not all of their earnings so it is a never ending cycle. The place to sleep turns out to be right in the market. Shirley pointed it out as we passed and it wasn't inviting. Dirty and squalid came to mind.
The government is working on a program to get these children back home to their villages. They tried giving them money but it didn't work out. Now they are seeking out the parents and offering them training and seed funding so they can start a business and not require their children to work in such dangerous circumstances. The question is if this is actually solving anything or if more parents, eager for training and seed funding, will send their kids down to Accra to work.
There have been a few lovely meals planned for us recently. The first was at Auntie Naa's house the evening before I was originally scheduled to leave. Auntie Naa is Mummy Andoh's sister. Incidentally Mummy Andoh is also called Auntie Naa but I think they differ in the name that follows Naa for each. At any rate we sat out in the courtyard with music and enjoyed appetizer of chicken gizzards, which my grandmother has never been able to get me to eat but which I found to be quite tasty in Ghana, and buffet of salads, kenke, banku, grilled and fried fish, and chicken. When dusk closed in we doused ourselves with Off and talked while watching the night sky.
The next afternoon was a brunch that I was to have missed if I had caught my flight. However as we all know the flight did not happen. So I trooped with the rest to Auntie Vida's house. I'm still not clear how she fits into the picture so let's just say she's a family friend who loves to entertain. Her house is absolutely gorgeous and airy. We were served fresh pineapple juice and were anxiously awaiting what we were told would be a fabulous lunch.
It was there at Auntie Vida's that I was finally able to reach the travel agent who had purchased my ticket to Mali. I informed him of my situation and he said I would need to get in touch with the airline directly about my return flight from Bamako to NYC. Shirley and all the young adults would be leaving Tuesday morning and i dreaded to think of staying in Ghana indefinitely. Shirley's cousin found a seat on their return flight but it was expensive, though less expensive than previously thought. Since we only had a few hours before the close of the business day we thought it best to address the matter immediately. We excused ourselves, explained the issue and headed for the door and Auntie Vida provided a driver to take us to the airline office.
There I was told that I could either find a way back to Bamako (as if I hadn't tried that already) to try to fly standby on a flight from Bamako to Casablanca to NYC since they are booked through September or pay $1400 to fly from Accra to Casablanca where I could get the original second leg of my flight. We kept going around and around but these were the best two options they came up with. So I decided to take the seat on Shirley's flight since it was the same price but a direct flight. Thankfully they only required credit and thankfully Shirley had enough room on her card and was gracious enough to front it for me. (I am tempted to name my firstborn Shirley, even if it is a boy.) But honestly I didn't relax about the flight until I was actually on the plane...more about that later.
We returned an hour and a half later. Everyone had already eaten but we enjoyed our lunch nonetheless. We had two choices and I ate both simply because I want to try everything. I tried the eggplant stew first and it was very tasty and different from anything else I have had here. Then I tried the palm nut soup which I have had before but you never know if people make it differently. One of the best things about the palm nut soup is the slices of snail in it. Seriously...giant African snail and it is de-licious! I saw them live in the market and was happy I had tasted them before seeing them as they aren't the prettiest creatures. They have beautiful shells too. Funny thing is that I have always seen those big shells and never thought of the creatures who must have called them home. Dessert was delicate crepes.
And then we returned home to begin the job of packing. Friends and relatives came from everywhere ringing the doorbell bringing things they wanted sent to family in the New York region: dried fish, fabric, African herbal soap, black pepper paste, entire suitcases etc. Most of the stuff was not personal belongings but rather communal items and or things for others. I even dumped my stuff out of a smaller tote and into a bigger suitcase to accommodate some of Mummy Andoh's things. I have never seen anything like this packing production and it went on all night.
We watched the news and discovered that a lynching had taken place in a market in the city. Four men stole a woman's purse and jumped in a car. She pursued them with the help of a taxi driver and the pursuit ended in an accident. One thief jumped out with a gun and made off. The other three had no weapons and once publicly branded as thieves in the crowded market, the lynching began. I only know the end result, three men dead, their nude bodies next to pools of blood. One of the three did indeed have the woman's purse and another had a bag full of may different wallets and IDs, none of them his. I was shocked at the mob mentality and shocked that the news would show unclothed dead bodies.
Shirley said when she was young a group of men tried to break into a neighbor's house at night. Somemone woke up and fought them off and the sounds alerted their neighbors who poured out of their homes ready to fight. All it took was one person throwing a kerosene lamp at the would-be robbers and well...their aim was good so you know what happened after that.
Nana Yaw, Shirley's brother, is an architect and the other Nana Yaw (Eugene or Gino) is a mechanic. Both were called upon during their time in Ghana to put their concrete skills to work. Gino fixed Daddy Andoh's truck and Nana Yaw created plans for two houses (one just behind the one we stayed in) and the other for Eugene and Evelyn and a mausoleum for Uncle Prince's family. Since Shirley, Carol, and others just bought some land he should be busy into the future creating more plans. I asked him what aspects of a house were important in Ghana. He said enough space for entertaining and guests staying over, a shaded spot outside, more than one bathroom including a guest bathroom near the front door so all guests don't have to traipse through the house, and a large kitchen. I think the wrap-around porch would be an excellent feature to transport from the South of the US. Nana Yaw is working feverishly to finish the plans for the house in back before we leave so they can begin construction.
Waiting Game
(hum the theme song to jeopardy here)
I am still in Accra with the Andohs, still furiously trying to figure out how I will get home. Shirley, Nana Yaw, Carmen, and Nina, Nana Yaw (Eugene or Gino), Evelyn and Stephen leave for NYC tomorrow. Hopefully we get my return figured out before they go. If not, I will stay here with Mummy and Daddy Andoh and apply for a work visa. (weak laughter) My experiences have all been learning experiences and this is a lesson in patience and faith.
The packing has begun. When the Andohs arrived they brought not only gifts but also special delivered packages from friends to give to their family members in Ghana. Shirley met with the mothers of Nana (who was my roommate back in Queens) and Nelly to give them things their daughters had sent and to collect things the daughters were requesting, fabrics or special black pepper paste that is better straight from the source. It is also cheaper to send money through family friends who are traveling than to submit to the highway robbery fee that Western Union calls a fee.
We've been eating a lot of fresh tomato, onions, and pepper paste diced together and added on top of dishes, sauce, fish, or spinach. It reminds me of the mixture my grandparents call cha cha, which consisted of tomatoes, onions, peppers and a little vinegar that we would eat over collard greens.
I slept for what felt like forever last night. This morning Carmen, Nana Yaw, and Nina came over from Regina's house as usual and Carmen did Nina's hair (I showed Carmen some simple tricks for doing black hair last week and she has since mastered them; Nina didn't cry at all today). After carmen left the room, Nina curled up on the couch and said she wanted to go home. I held her on my lap and said I knew how she felt and that she would be going home soon enough - what about me?!?
I am still in Accra with the Andohs, still furiously trying to figure out how I will get home. Shirley, Nana Yaw, Carmen, and Nina, Nana Yaw (Eugene or Gino), Evelyn and Stephen leave for NYC tomorrow. Hopefully we get my return figured out before they go. If not, I will stay here with Mummy and Daddy Andoh and apply for a work visa. (weak laughter) My experiences have all been learning experiences and this is a lesson in patience and faith.
The packing has begun. When the Andohs arrived they brought not only gifts but also special delivered packages from friends to give to their family members in Ghana. Shirley met with the mothers of Nana (who was my roommate back in Queens) and Nelly to give them things their daughters had sent and to collect things the daughters were requesting, fabrics or special black pepper paste that is better straight from the source. It is also cheaper to send money through family friends who are traveling than to submit to the highway robbery fee that Western Union calls a fee.
We've been eating a lot of fresh tomato, onions, and pepper paste diced together and added on top of dishes, sauce, fish, or spinach. It reminds me of the mixture my grandparents call cha cha, which consisted of tomatoes, onions, peppers and a little vinegar that we would eat over collard greens.
I slept for what felt like forever last night. This morning Carmen, Nana Yaw, and Nina came over from Regina's house as usual and Carmen did Nina's hair (I showed Carmen some simple tricks for doing black hair last week and she has since mastered them; Nina didn't cry at all today). After carmen left the room, Nina curled up on the couch and said she wanted to go home. I held her on my lap and said I knew how she felt and that she would be going home soon enough - what about me?!?
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Stuck in Accra
"Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you, And I'm wondering what it is I should do..." -Stealers Wheel lyric
I left the Andoh household right after breakfast this morning. I rose early to shower before a line started and finish packing. I said all of my goodbyes and wondered how I could ever begin to repay the Andoh's for all their generosity and hospitality other than to be generous and hospitable and pass it on. I told Shirley I would give her my phone Sim card as someone else could use it and she said I had better keep it. I said I was out of credit on my phone though and she chastised me asking what I would do if I needed to call once they left me at the airport. Ever the optimist I said I wouldn't need to and we hugged and parted ways.
Had I had to eat my words they would have filled an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I was told that while I could still fly to Ouagadougou, my connecting flight through to Bamako was cancelled. What now? I asked to borrow the phone of an American woman, a public health official, who shared my same predicament to call Shirley and alert her before she got too far from the airport. We were told to wait for more info.
The more info turned out to be an invitation from Vijay Kumar to pay for another ticket to Bamako through Abidjian (Ivory Coast). I don't understand, I said, I have this ticket, can't I use it? Will you honor it? You didn't buy the ticket from me, Vijay says. I can't help you. So now I was thoroughly confused...But the airlines has my money and they have cancelled the flight I was supposed to take...so what provisions did they make for me?
Listen, Vijay says, I can get you on this other flight but I need to know if you can pay. How much is it? I ask weakly. He says it will cost $250 to Abidjian and as only business class is available from Abidjian, $408 to Bamako from there. I am quiet. The other woman offers a credit card and he frowns at it. What is this? My credit card, she says. Oh no..only cash, Vijay says. So if you give it to me I can get you the ticket. He holds his hand out and I'm thinking are you for real? I'm supposed to have $700 cash on me just like that? The woman says she will have to go to an ATM as it is Sunday and the banks are closed. He says she should return quickly. I tell him I have been volunteering all summer and I don't have cash for a new flight. He looks disinterested. What else can I do? I ask. He says you can give me the cash or I can get back to you later after I deal with the flight.
So I wait. In the meantime I decide to go look for a place to buy a phone card to add to my cellphone minutes. One of the airline workers graciously walks me to the place which is not that close to the airport. In walking there I stub the pinky toe of my left foot on the wheel of the cart carrying my baggage. A chill shoots through my spine. I think it might be broken. We walk and walk and the vendor seems to be very far. I am reassured by the fact that we are in open air, still on the grounds of the airport and my "guide" is wearing an official looking yellow glow in the dark vest. He sees me limping and asks what has happened. I tell him and he insists I sit and wait while he takes my money to go buy the card. I can see where the vendor is now and I give him the money and tell him what denomination to buy. If he takes off with it so be it.
He returns without the card but with my money. The only denomination they had was for much more money than I had still in my possession in Ghanaian Cedis. I thanked him for his trouble and he accompanied me back to the airport, with me limping all the while. Shortly after Shirley arrived (she told me she was going to finish running an errand and then be back). Together we tried to make some sense out of what Vijay was saying. Apparently while he assists Air Burkina with loading and checking in passengers he is not an employee of Air Burkina and so should not be expected to be helpful in that manner. He does however own his own travel agency where tickets are bought in cash and you can get where you want to go if your flight is cancelled. How shady is that? While the other American woman took him up on that offer as she had a Monday morning meeting in Bamako that she had to make, her expenses would surely be reimbursed by her company and mine would not.
If I had gotten the flight I would have been stuck in Ouagadougou until Friday when the next flight to Bamako came through and my flight to NYC from there would have been long gone. So I am back with the Andohs, what better place to be stuck, and they are working with their cousin who is a travel agent to find a way for me to use my return ticket to get home. There's some drama in Ghana for you...
I left the Andoh household right after breakfast this morning. I rose early to shower before a line started and finish packing. I said all of my goodbyes and wondered how I could ever begin to repay the Andoh's for all their generosity and hospitality other than to be generous and hospitable and pass it on. I told Shirley I would give her my phone Sim card as someone else could use it and she said I had better keep it. I said I was out of credit on my phone though and she chastised me asking what I would do if I needed to call once they left me at the airport. Ever the optimist I said I wouldn't need to and we hugged and parted ways.
Had I had to eat my words they would have filled an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I was told that while I could still fly to Ouagadougou, my connecting flight through to Bamako was cancelled. What now? I asked to borrow the phone of an American woman, a public health official, who shared my same predicament to call Shirley and alert her before she got too far from the airport. We were told to wait for more info.
The more info turned out to be an invitation from Vijay Kumar to pay for another ticket to Bamako through Abidjian (Ivory Coast). I don't understand, I said, I have this ticket, can't I use it? Will you honor it? You didn't buy the ticket from me, Vijay says. I can't help you. So now I was thoroughly confused...But the airlines has my money and they have cancelled the flight I was supposed to take...so what provisions did they make for me?
Listen, Vijay says, I can get you on this other flight but I need to know if you can pay. How much is it? I ask weakly. He says it will cost $250 to Abidjian and as only business class is available from Abidjian, $408 to Bamako from there. I am quiet. The other woman offers a credit card and he frowns at it. What is this? My credit card, she says. Oh no..only cash, Vijay says. So if you give it to me I can get you the ticket. He holds his hand out and I'm thinking are you for real? I'm supposed to have $700 cash on me just like that? The woman says she will have to go to an ATM as it is Sunday and the banks are closed. He says she should return quickly. I tell him I have been volunteering all summer and I don't have cash for a new flight. He looks disinterested. What else can I do? I ask. He says you can give me the cash or I can get back to you later after I deal with the flight.
So I wait. In the meantime I decide to go look for a place to buy a phone card to add to my cellphone minutes. One of the airline workers graciously walks me to the place which is not that close to the airport. In walking there I stub the pinky toe of my left foot on the wheel of the cart carrying my baggage. A chill shoots through my spine. I think it might be broken. We walk and walk and the vendor seems to be very far. I am reassured by the fact that we are in open air, still on the grounds of the airport and my "guide" is wearing an official looking yellow glow in the dark vest. He sees me limping and asks what has happened. I tell him and he insists I sit and wait while he takes my money to go buy the card. I can see where the vendor is now and I give him the money and tell him what denomination to buy. If he takes off with it so be it.
He returns without the card but with my money. The only denomination they had was for much more money than I had still in my possession in Ghanaian Cedis. I thanked him for his trouble and he accompanied me back to the airport, with me limping all the while. Shortly after Shirley arrived (she told me she was going to finish running an errand and then be back). Together we tried to make some sense out of what Vijay was saying. Apparently while he assists Air Burkina with loading and checking in passengers he is not an employee of Air Burkina and so should not be expected to be helpful in that manner. He does however own his own travel agency where tickets are bought in cash and you can get where you want to go if your flight is cancelled. How shady is that? While the other American woman took him up on that offer as she had a Monday morning meeting in Bamako that she had to make, her expenses would surely be reimbursed by her company and mine would not.
If I had gotten the flight I would have been stuck in Ouagadougou until Friday when the next flight to Bamako came through and my flight to NYC from there would have been long gone. So I am back with the Andohs, what better place to be stuck, and they are working with their cousin who is a travel agent to find a way for me to use my return ticket to get home. There's some drama in Ghana for you...
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Reflections
I've been thinking more about the momument to the slaves at Cape Coast and Elmina castles. It is easy enough to say that this was a sad and shameful part of our history, but I think more importantly, is the realization that there was a time that slavery was socially acceptable. So what makes a thing socially acceptable? And how can we be committed to judging our activities not by the ever-changing morals of society, but by an unchanging moral compass? If religion cannot be that compass, as evidenced by the churches in heavy use in both castles even whilst the slave trade was ongoing, what can serve in its place? Further what modern-day practices are deemed acceptable by society but will not stand the test of time?
As I talk about my time in Mali, I think everyone here is a little surprised to learn that I picked up as much Bambera as I did there but I have known Shirley for 13 years and I know very little Twi. I think it's a tad embarassing for both of us. But the circumstances are indeed different. At any rate, as I have someone who I can speak Twi with frequently if I learn, I have set about to know terms that I will be able to use. And I will make flashcards the same way I did with the Bambera words so as to commit them to memory quickly.
I absolutely LOVE the fact that ice cream is readily available here. The brand is Fan Ice and they sell it in little lovely plastic rectangles and you bite off a corner and squeeze the ice cream out to your heart's delight. It's funny to me that as hot as it was in Mali there was no ice cream (all the power outages no doubt). My stomach was not accustomed to dairy when I first got to Ghana but I didn't care and kept eating the ice cream anyway and soon it learned to adjust.
We were watching tv at Eugene's aunt's house one evening, Evelyn (his wife), Shirley and I were in the livingroom while the family went off to another room to conduct family business. A commercial came on depicting a bunch of kids running in the park on a hot day. Then an adult asked," What's the perfect treat? What's really nice on a hot day?" I said jokingly "Fan Ice" and the next screen showed the Fan Ice brand. Shirley and Evelyn turned to look at me and asked how I had known. I said I was just answering the question and wasn't Fan Ice really nice?
Ghana celebrated its 50th anniversary, the decolonization of the first black African nation in March 1957 with Kwame Nkrumah at its helm. Found a link to an interesting article about the anniversary and particularly ML King's reaction to the first celebration and Nkrumah's thoughts on parallels between African independence and the struggles faced by African-Americans at the time. There are still streamers and billboards around the city and I have even seen a woman wearing a dress whose cloth was printed with the anniversary insignia. I asked Shirley why all the cars I saw had Ghanaian flags. We're certainly used to seeing tons of Dominican, Italian, and Puerto Rican flags in NYC but not necessarily US flags. She said it was because of the anniversary celebration. That must have been some party. I'm sorry to have missed it.
The city of Accra is winding and expansive. Although I can recognize some landmarks I would get lost easily here if I were behind the wheel. So often we seem to turn back on our own path and cross it several times. I find it best to just enjoy the view rather than try to figure out where we are going or from whence we came. Often there are traffic jams that rival those of Los Angeles where no one moves. The best thing to do is get to where you can pull a u-turn and get out of there fast. Many of the traffic jams are due to roving scheduled power outages which also affect the traffic lights. Others...your guess is as good as mine.
We pass our time in the waning hours just before bedtime watching Nigerian movies. In the evenings we can still have as many as 13 people in the house and these movies play all day on Africa Magic Channel. Simple plots about love lost and found, lovers scorned, meddling parents or in-laws, treachery, double-crossing and even black magic. They are hilarious in their simplicity. African soaps...all night long!
We passed a cemetery and Shirley told me there are lots of Ghanian superstitions about cemeteries so it is hard to find people willing to work in them. We passed the gates (the walls were very high everywhere else) and I could see that the place was overgrown with full bushes and trees competing with headstones not just simple weeds. That's still in use?, I exclaimed. Shirley nodded and said Carol marveled in wonder that cemeteries in the States are kept so neat.
As I talk about my time in Mali, I think everyone here is a little surprised to learn that I picked up as much Bambera as I did there but I have known Shirley for 13 years and I know very little Twi. I think it's a tad embarassing for both of us. But the circumstances are indeed different. At any rate, as I have someone who I can speak Twi with frequently if I learn, I have set about to know terms that I will be able to use. And I will make flashcards the same way I did with the Bambera words so as to commit them to memory quickly.
I absolutely LOVE the fact that ice cream is readily available here. The brand is Fan Ice and they sell it in little lovely plastic rectangles and you bite off a corner and squeeze the ice cream out to your heart's delight. It's funny to me that as hot as it was in Mali there was no ice cream (all the power outages no doubt). My stomach was not accustomed to dairy when I first got to Ghana but I didn't care and kept eating the ice cream anyway and soon it learned to adjust.
We were watching tv at Eugene's aunt's house one evening, Evelyn (his wife), Shirley and I were in the livingroom while the family went off to another room to conduct family business. A commercial came on depicting a bunch of kids running in the park on a hot day. Then an adult asked," What's the perfect treat? What's really nice on a hot day?" I said jokingly "Fan Ice" and the next screen showed the Fan Ice brand. Shirley and Evelyn turned to look at me and asked how I had known. I said I was just answering the question and wasn't Fan Ice really nice?
Ghana celebrated its 50th anniversary, the decolonization of the first black African nation in March 1957 with Kwame Nkrumah at its helm. Found a link to an interesting article about the anniversary and particularly ML King's reaction to the first celebration and Nkrumah's thoughts on parallels between African independence and the struggles faced by African-Americans at the time. There are still streamers and billboards around the city and I have even seen a woman wearing a dress whose cloth was printed with the anniversary insignia. I asked Shirley why all the cars I saw had Ghanaian flags. We're certainly used to seeing tons of Dominican, Italian, and Puerto Rican flags in NYC but not necessarily US flags. She said it was because of the anniversary celebration. That must have been some party. I'm sorry to have missed it.
The city of Accra is winding and expansive. Although I can recognize some landmarks I would get lost easily here if I were behind the wheel. So often we seem to turn back on our own path and cross it several times. I find it best to just enjoy the view rather than try to figure out where we are going or from whence we came. Often there are traffic jams that rival those of Los Angeles where no one moves. The best thing to do is get to where you can pull a u-turn and get out of there fast. Many of the traffic jams are due to roving scheduled power outages which also affect the traffic lights. Others...your guess is as good as mine.
We pass our time in the waning hours just before bedtime watching Nigerian movies. In the evenings we can still have as many as 13 people in the house and these movies play all day on Africa Magic Channel. Simple plots about love lost and found, lovers scorned, meddling parents or in-laws, treachery, double-crossing and even black magic. They are hilarious in their simplicity. African soaps...all night long!
We passed a cemetery and Shirley told me there are lots of Ghanian superstitions about cemeteries so it is hard to find people willing to work in them. We passed the gates (the walls were very high everywhere else) and I could see that the place was overgrown with full bushes and trees competing with headstones not just simple weeds. That's still in use?, I exclaimed. Shirley nodded and said Carol marveled in wonder that cemeteries in the States are kept so neat.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Comforts of Home
"Ay, there's the rub!" - Hamlet
So I was wondering what it is about my time in Ghana that is so different from my time in Mali. I mean, sure we go places, we have fun, we take pictures, I eat different foods and experience different things but surely something is missing. And then I realized it is the grit, the take life by the scruff of the neck drama that I experienced in Mali that is nonexistent here in Ghana. I landed and Shirley had a sim card for the Ghanaian cellphone network and a card with phone time on it all ready for me. Whenever I think of needing something, someone has already anticipated the need. I am having a wonderful time, and it certainly feels more comparable to a 4 star hotel with fam and friends than it does to my time in Mali.
Am I being spoiled?
- Sure.
Do I deserve it?
- Sure.
Does this make for an uninteresting blog?
- I don't know. You be the judge. But if my relaxation does dull down my blog then, ay, there's the rub!
I wanted some drama the other day so when Nana Yaw, Carmen and I were at the Internet Cafe I told them to take the taxi without me and that I would do a little exploring on my own. I made sure that I knew how to tell a taxi to get me to the general vicinity of the house and how much it should cost. They wanted to know if I was sure about my decision. Yeah I'm sure. After all everyone here speaks English, how difficult can it be?
Well after nosing around a bit and seeing nothing out of the ordinary I decided to walk back to the house as I can see more when I walk than drive. Whenever I was unsure about which turn to take I looked at the billboards and walked towards the ones that were familiar. Sometimes I walked on a trail alongside the road and other times on the edge of the road. Nana Yaw had said it was about 2.2 miles but it felt much shorter.
I arrived at the house and rang the bell outside the gate and someone, I think it was Eugene, opened it for me. Shirley's dad was in the yard and he said he heard I had gone off by myself, no doubt to find something to write about in my blog. Touche! Shirley's sister Carol expressed surprise that I walked all the way from Swan Lake and said Nana Yaw was mad at me for making him worry about me. Shirley and Nana Yaw reminded her that they used to walk that far to school everyday (uphill both ways as Nana Yaw says) and he said he wasn't mad. So I couldn't figure out if me walking was a bad thing, a good thing or just an unexpected thing. They asked if I took the shortcuts and I said no I couldn't afford to as I only recognized the way by the road.
We went to Cocoa Beach and though it has been rather cool weatherwise we enjoyed lunch overlooking the beach and a stroll. I saw Mummy Anodh talking to a woman and I politely said good afternoon, shook her hand and then kind of moved on. Mummy Andoh asked me if I remembered her niece Wendy's mother and I said yes and she said well this is her, my sister, Wendy's mother. (I last saw Wendy in May when I stayed with the Andoh's the night before staying in the hostel and she was staying there before leaving for grad school in London.) My jaw dropped. I don't know what it was about Auntie Naa that made me not recognize her, perhaps it was the fact that we are in Ghana and I assume I don't know people here. Craziness! I apologized profusely and gave her a big hug.
I found some beautiful pink seashells. The monetary term in Ghana is the Cedi which is pronounced the same way as the word for cowrie shell, an early form of money. They are reissuing the Cedi now to equal 10,000 of the old Cedis. So where you used to have 200,000 Cedis to make 20 dollars, now you will have about 20 Cedis. Good thing too, because changing 100 USD into Cedis would have required 1 million Cedis. Can you imagine what that looks like in your wallet when the biggest denomination used to be 5,000 Cedis? You might need a duffel bag to carry the money you'd need to make a large purchase.
We all enjoyed watching the kids play in the water and on the sand. Who can't enjoy watching kids? The house is bustling with their activity. From 9 year olds Barbara (Nana Gao) and Nana Yaw to 7 year old Jesse, to 6 year old Kelvin (poor Nana Gao amongst all these boys), and then 3 year old Nina who has come visiting from the States with her parents Nana Yaw and Carmen. Nana Yaw and Jesse, Carol's sons, keep to themselves for the most part.
Only recently have they said anything to me other than to answer a direct question, but of course they are always talking and playing amongst themselves. Nana Gao and Kelvin are Regina's kids and they are night and day. Nana Gao is painfully shy and quiet but if you catch her in a rare moment she is full of smiles and talk (like when she is beating the boys at the Xbox games). Her younger brother Kelvin is a ball of energy, literally finding reasons to walk through and around the house many times in a few minutes. He does an excellent impression of a bad guy, deepening his voice and all. It's actually pretty scary. Nina, a pretty typical American child, stands out here because she is talkative but mostly with adults, she tells them no, and she expects to be the center of attention.
We've noticed that Nana Gao and Kelvin do not clean up after themselves or go and get their own food from the kitchen. They simply say I am hungry and wait for someone else to serve them. Since Nana Yaw and Carmen are staying at their house, they are coaching them to begin doing these things for themselves, saying if they want to America that's the way things are done as most people do not have househelp.
Shirley and Nana Yaw said things are different from when they were children as they had househelp growing up but they still served themselves and cleaned up if they spilled something.
Young girls (under 17 or so) here wear their hair shaved very close. A lot of them look like boys unless you see a skirt and the omnipresent gold stud or hoop earrings. Interesting as the girls in Mali all had their full head of hair and it was usually braided in some sort of intricate and elaborate fashion. Shirley says most schools, with the exception of international schools, will not allow girls to grow their hair as they feel it makes young girls vain.
I really like corned beef stew, never knew that I would. It tastes like very spicy pasta sauce with corned beef and a ton of fresh vegetables in it. We ate it with boiled yams. Not the brown outside/orange inside ones from the States but the brown outside/white inside long, tubular ones that are boiled and sliced. I also like palava sauce, sauteed spinach with tomatoes, garlic and onions. I have definitely grown an appreciation for all that can be done with the tomato...
So I was wondering what it is about my time in Ghana that is so different from my time in Mali. I mean, sure we go places, we have fun, we take pictures, I eat different foods and experience different things but surely something is missing. And then I realized it is the grit, the take life by the scruff of the neck drama that I experienced in Mali that is nonexistent here in Ghana. I landed and Shirley had a sim card for the Ghanaian cellphone network and a card with phone time on it all ready for me. Whenever I think of needing something, someone has already anticipated the need. I am having a wonderful time, and it certainly feels more comparable to a 4 star hotel with fam and friends than it does to my time in Mali.
Am I being spoiled?
- Sure.
Do I deserve it?
- Sure.
Does this make for an uninteresting blog?
- I don't know. You be the judge. But if my relaxation does dull down my blog then, ay, there's the rub!
I wanted some drama the other day so when Nana Yaw, Carmen and I were at the Internet Cafe I told them to take the taxi without me and that I would do a little exploring on my own. I made sure that I knew how to tell a taxi to get me to the general vicinity of the house and how much it should cost. They wanted to know if I was sure about my decision. Yeah I'm sure. After all everyone here speaks English, how difficult can it be?
Well after nosing around a bit and seeing nothing out of the ordinary I decided to walk back to the house as I can see more when I walk than drive. Whenever I was unsure about which turn to take I looked at the billboards and walked towards the ones that were familiar. Sometimes I walked on a trail alongside the road and other times on the edge of the road. Nana Yaw had said it was about 2.2 miles but it felt much shorter.
I arrived at the house and rang the bell outside the gate and someone, I think it was Eugene, opened it for me. Shirley's dad was in the yard and he said he heard I had gone off by myself, no doubt to find something to write about in my blog. Touche! Shirley's sister Carol expressed surprise that I walked all the way from Swan Lake and said Nana Yaw was mad at me for making him worry about me. Shirley and Nana Yaw reminded her that they used to walk that far to school everyday (uphill both ways as Nana Yaw says) and he said he wasn't mad. So I couldn't figure out if me walking was a bad thing, a good thing or just an unexpected thing. They asked if I took the shortcuts and I said no I couldn't afford to as I only recognized the way by the road.
We went to Cocoa Beach and though it has been rather cool weatherwise we enjoyed lunch overlooking the beach and a stroll. I saw Mummy Anodh talking to a woman and I politely said good afternoon, shook her hand and then kind of moved on. Mummy Andoh asked me if I remembered her niece Wendy's mother and I said yes and she said well this is her, my sister, Wendy's mother. (I last saw Wendy in May when I stayed with the Andoh's the night before staying in the hostel and she was staying there before leaving for grad school in London.) My jaw dropped. I don't know what it was about Auntie Naa that made me not recognize her, perhaps it was the fact that we are in Ghana and I assume I don't know people here. Craziness! I apologized profusely and gave her a big hug.
I found some beautiful pink seashells. The monetary term in Ghana is the Cedi which is pronounced the same way as the word for cowrie shell, an early form of money. They are reissuing the Cedi now to equal 10,000 of the old Cedis. So where you used to have 200,000 Cedis to make 20 dollars, now you will have about 20 Cedis. Good thing too, because changing 100 USD into Cedis would have required 1 million Cedis. Can you imagine what that looks like in your wallet when the biggest denomination used to be 5,000 Cedis? You might need a duffel bag to carry the money you'd need to make a large purchase.
We all enjoyed watching the kids play in the water and on the sand. Who can't enjoy watching kids? The house is bustling with their activity. From 9 year olds Barbara (Nana Gao) and Nana Yaw to 7 year old Jesse, to 6 year old Kelvin (poor Nana Gao amongst all these boys), and then 3 year old Nina who has come visiting from the States with her parents Nana Yaw and Carmen. Nana Yaw and Jesse, Carol's sons, keep to themselves for the most part.
Only recently have they said anything to me other than to answer a direct question, but of course they are always talking and playing amongst themselves. Nana Gao and Kelvin are Regina's kids and they are night and day. Nana Gao is painfully shy and quiet but if you catch her in a rare moment she is full of smiles and talk (like when she is beating the boys at the Xbox games). Her younger brother Kelvin is a ball of energy, literally finding reasons to walk through and around the house many times in a few minutes. He does an excellent impression of a bad guy, deepening his voice and all. It's actually pretty scary. Nina, a pretty typical American child, stands out here because she is talkative but mostly with adults, she tells them no, and she expects to be the center of attention.
We've noticed that Nana Gao and Kelvin do not clean up after themselves or go and get their own food from the kitchen. They simply say I am hungry and wait for someone else to serve them. Since Nana Yaw and Carmen are staying at their house, they are coaching them to begin doing these things for themselves, saying if they want to America that's the way things are done as most people do not have househelp.
Shirley and Nana Yaw said things are different from when they were children as they had househelp growing up but they still served themselves and cleaned up if they spilled something.
Young girls (under 17 or so) here wear their hair shaved very close. A lot of them look like boys unless you see a skirt and the omnipresent gold stud or hoop earrings. Interesting as the girls in Mali all had their full head of hair and it was usually braided in some sort of intricate and elaborate fashion. Shirley says most schools, with the exception of international schools, will not allow girls to grow their hair as they feel it makes young girls vain.
I really like corned beef stew, never knew that I would. It tastes like very spicy pasta sauce with corned beef and a ton of fresh vegetables in it. We ate it with boiled yams. Not the brown outside/orange inside ones from the States but the brown outside/white inside long, tubular ones that are boiled and sliced. I also like palava sauce, sauteed spinach with tomatoes, garlic and onions. I have definitely grown an appreciation for all that can be done with the tomato...
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Tidbits from Accra
"A farewell is necessary before you can meet again." - Richard Bach 'Illusions'
I see ressemblances between the Andoh family and the Buendia family featured in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. The Buendia family reuses names over and over and descendants start to take on the personality traits of those they are named after. In the Andoh family, given names must be present somewhere in the family lineage, resulting in 3 Nana Yaws, 2 Barbaras (and one on the way if Carmen and Nana Yaw turn out to be expecting a girl), 2 Wendys and one Caroline (Carol) and Carolina (Nina).
The last night that I was in Mali, the moon glowed bright as if was a source of light in and of itself.
Mommy Andoh (Shirley's mom) wears Ghanaian outfits in NYC and western outfits here in Ghana.
As we lunched at the resturant in Cape Coast we looked down on the beach at a man who was swimming completely nude there and seemed oblivious that many others could see him.
Malians and Ghanaians historically traded with each other. The name Ghana is actually the name the medieval Ghana Empire of West Africa (which existed 500 miles north of present-day Ghana) and absorbed into the larger Mali Empire in 1240. Present-day Ghana was settled by people coming down from the Gao and Timbuktu regions of Mali. With the constant interaction and the exchange between the cultures, I wonder how much of our modern concept of nationality holds weight in this case. Or if those who were within the borders of Ghana were just called Ghanaians and vice versa without considering from whence they had come.
For the first time in more than two months I ate some chips, Doritos from a Costco box the Andohs brought with them. After a diet of fresh foods, they did not taste like food, rather like oil, metal and cardboard. Even the spices they were dusted with offered no flavor. I looked at the expiration date and it wasn't for months to come. I left the bag for whoever could stand to eat them.
There is no gas available anywhere in Accra. The Andohs have a gas canister hooked up to the stove and it is now empty. I had just commented to Shirley yesterday that when the apocalypse came I wanted to be in Africa, as people know how to survive without all of technology's amenities. Sure enough, the gas episode is not fazing anyone. They pulled out their small charcoal stove (that everyone in Mali uses) and a fan to give the charcoal proper air and they were back in business.
We visited the University of Ghana, tagging along with Nana Yaw who had an appointment there. The campus looked like a typical campus, was rather large and green, with quite a few traffic circles. The main library was built in the Japanese pagoda style. We spent a lot of time in the bookstore.
I bought more books from the African Writer's Series. Weep Not Child by Ngugi wa Thiong'o, now a Professor of Comparative Literature and Performance Studies at New York University. The book is simple tale about a family who must decide where their loyalties lie when revolution comes to Kenya, if they will join the fight for the land that was stolen from them by settlers or find their salvation in education and patience. Also I read The Girl Who Can by Ghanaian writer Ama Ata Aidoo who analyzes African womens' struggle to find their rightful place in society through a series of short stories. Aidoo was the first female minister (of education) in Ghana and she is now the Executive Director of Mbaasem, a foundation to support African women writers and their work.
Last night we visited the house of the mother of Eugene's friend in the States. SHe welcomed us and immediately started bringing out drinks and then plates for food. We looked at each other a bit astonished as we hadn't planned to eat there but the food was delicious. Banku with fish, and then a spicy soup with whole crab and fish in it. I said this looks like gumbo. My family is from Louisiana and we love gumbo which is a spicy soup cooked with many different types of meats including: chicken, sausage, crab, shrimp, and fish. I tasted it and declared it was gumbo....it just needed some more different meats and to be served over rice.
I see ressemblances between the Andoh family and the Buendia family featured in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. The Buendia family reuses names over and over and descendants start to take on the personality traits of those they are named after. In the Andoh family, given names must be present somewhere in the family lineage, resulting in 3 Nana Yaws, 2 Barbaras (and one on the way if Carmen and Nana Yaw turn out to be expecting a girl), 2 Wendys and one Caroline (Carol) and Carolina (Nina).
The last night that I was in Mali, the moon glowed bright as if was a source of light in and of itself.
Mommy Andoh (Shirley's mom) wears Ghanaian outfits in NYC and western outfits here in Ghana.
As we lunched at the resturant in Cape Coast we looked down on the beach at a man who was swimming completely nude there and seemed oblivious that many others could see him.
Malians and Ghanaians historically traded with each other. The name Ghana is actually the name the medieval Ghana Empire of West Africa (which existed 500 miles north of present-day Ghana) and absorbed into the larger Mali Empire in 1240. Present-day Ghana was settled by people coming down from the Gao and Timbuktu regions of Mali. With the constant interaction and the exchange between the cultures, I wonder how much of our modern concept of nationality holds weight in this case. Or if those who were within the borders of Ghana were just called Ghanaians and vice versa without considering from whence they had come.
For the first time in more than two months I ate some chips, Doritos from a Costco box the Andohs brought with them. After a diet of fresh foods, they did not taste like food, rather like oil, metal and cardboard. Even the spices they were dusted with offered no flavor. I looked at the expiration date and it wasn't for months to come. I left the bag for whoever could stand to eat them.
There is no gas available anywhere in Accra. The Andohs have a gas canister hooked up to the stove and it is now empty. I had just commented to Shirley yesterday that when the apocalypse came I wanted to be in Africa, as people know how to survive without all of technology's amenities. Sure enough, the gas episode is not fazing anyone. They pulled out their small charcoal stove (that everyone in Mali uses) and a fan to give the charcoal proper air and they were back in business.
We visited the University of Ghana, tagging along with Nana Yaw who had an appointment there. The campus looked like a typical campus, was rather large and green, with quite a few traffic circles. The main library was built in the Japanese pagoda style. We spent a lot of time in the bookstore.
I bought more books from the African Writer's Series. Weep Not Child by Ngugi wa Thiong'o, now a Professor of Comparative Literature and Performance Studies at New York University. The book is simple tale about a family who must decide where their loyalties lie when revolution comes to Kenya, if they will join the fight for the land that was stolen from them by settlers or find their salvation in education and patience. Also I read The Girl Who Can by Ghanaian writer Ama Ata Aidoo who analyzes African womens' struggle to find their rightful place in society through a series of short stories. Aidoo was the first female minister (of education) in Ghana and she is now the Executive Director of Mbaasem, a foundation to support African women writers and their work.
Last night we visited the house of the mother of Eugene's friend in the States. SHe welcomed us and immediately started bringing out drinks and then plates for food. We looked at each other a bit astonished as we hadn't planned to eat there but the food was delicious. Banku with fish, and then a spicy soup with whole crab and fish in it. I said this looks like gumbo. My family is from Louisiana and we love gumbo which is a spicy soup cooked with many different types of meats including: chicken, sausage, crab, shrimp, and fish. I tasted it and declared it was gumbo....it just needed some more different meats and to be served over rice.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Cape Coast: Part II
"Man was born free, and he is everywhere in chains." - Jean-Jacques Roussea 'The Social Contract'
Ghana is the only African country with three slave castles. Therefore the majority of the African diaspora, blacks who did not travel of their own volition from Africa to the Americas including: Brazil (which has the largest number of blacks outside of Africa), the Caribbean islands (Barbados, Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica, Haiti, etc.), and the US, have ancestors who came through Ghana at one point.
We visited two of Ghana's three slave castles. Cape Coast (1630) was the smaller of the two. It was originally built by the Swedes as a fort for missionary operations and trading and was taken over by the Dutch, the Portuguese and the English. The castle went from harboring traders of shells, ivory, spices and gold to traders of human beings.
As we walked along the tour we were led down a hallway. The guide shared with us that the slaves would have traveled through a tunnel rather than the way we were going but that the tunnel was blocked off shortly after the slave trade was abolished (though it still continued underground). The end of the hallway led to a massive door with heavy lacquered wood. At the top was a sign that said in block letters: "Door of No Return."
The guide swung it open and we moved from the dim hallway into the bright sunshine, with the salt spray of the ocean just in front of us sprinkling our faces. Some vendors had food items to sell and I thought they couldn't have been settled in a worse spot. We looked at them blankly. The guide had closed the door behind us but there was no ship waiting to take us away. Instead we just stood there, hearts pounding. And then he had us to look up and see that they had since posted a sign on the other side of the door reading: "Door of Return" and we gratefully clambered back inside.
Elmina Castle (1482) was a much bigger and grander affair built and maintained by the Portuguese. The contrast of its massive whitewashed limestone walls with the blue of the ocean reminded me of a photograph from a vacation hotspot. As the castle was not intended to hold slaves, the areas for captives had bars but were above ground and had lots of sunlight. Both castles though had special rooms to hold "terrorists" and "trouble makers" who incited riots, rebellions and uprisings amongst the slaves. These special rooms had no ventilation or light source and were stifling hot even though the door remained open (for us) and the weather outside was cool. Trouble makers would stay inside without food or water for up to 72 hours (with the door closed and locked) and many of them would die there.
A commemorative plaque inside both castles read:
In Everlasting Memory
Of the anguish of our ancestors
May those who died rest in peace
May those who return find their roots
May humanity never again perpetrate
such injustice against humanity
we, the living, vow to uphold this
Ghana is the only African country with three slave castles. Therefore the majority of the African diaspora, blacks who did not travel of their own volition from Africa to the Americas including: Brazil (which has the largest number of blacks outside of Africa), the Caribbean islands (Barbados, Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica, Haiti, etc.), and the US, have ancestors who came through Ghana at one point.
We visited two of Ghana's three slave castles. Cape Coast (1630) was the smaller of the two. It was originally built by the Swedes as a fort for missionary operations and trading and was taken over by the Dutch, the Portuguese and the English. The castle went from harboring traders of shells, ivory, spices and gold to traders of human beings.
As we walked along the tour we were led down a hallway. The guide shared with us that the slaves would have traveled through a tunnel rather than the way we were going but that the tunnel was blocked off shortly after the slave trade was abolished (though it still continued underground). The end of the hallway led to a massive door with heavy lacquered wood. At the top was a sign that said in block letters: "Door of No Return."
The guide swung it open and we moved from the dim hallway into the bright sunshine, with the salt spray of the ocean just in front of us sprinkling our faces. Some vendors had food items to sell and I thought they couldn't have been settled in a worse spot. We looked at them blankly. The guide had closed the door behind us but there was no ship waiting to take us away. Instead we just stood there, hearts pounding. And then he had us to look up and see that they had since posted a sign on the other side of the door reading: "Door of Return" and we gratefully clambered back inside.
Elmina Castle (1482) was a much bigger and grander affair built and maintained by the Portuguese. The contrast of its massive whitewashed limestone walls with the blue of the ocean reminded me of a photograph from a vacation hotspot. As the castle was not intended to hold slaves, the areas for captives had bars but were above ground and had lots of sunlight. Both castles though had special rooms to hold "terrorists" and "trouble makers" who incited riots, rebellions and uprisings amongst the slaves. These special rooms had no ventilation or light source and were stifling hot even though the door remained open (for us) and the weather outside was cool. Trouble makers would stay inside without food or water for up to 72 hours (with the door closed and locked) and many of them would die there.
A commemorative plaque inside both castles read:
In Everlasting Memory
Of the anguish of our ancestors
May those who died rest in peace
May those who return find their roots
May humanity never again perpetrate
such injustice against humanity
we, the living, vow to uphold this
Friday, August 3, 2007
Cape Coast Part I
"No one knows when the hour of Africa's redemption cometh. It is in the wind, it is coming. One day like a storm, it will be here. When that day comes, all Africa will stand together." - Marcus Garvey
At Shirley's place in NYC, Ghanaian culture is but one of the many cultures present, but here in Ghana, the Andoh household has its context. Being here answers so many unasked questions, some that I didn't even perceive that I had.
Friday morning a bunch of us got ready to take a trip to Cape Coast, two hours away, where Shirley and all of her sisters attended Holy Child, a Catholic boarding school, and Nana Yaw attended St. Augustine's. The driver came to the house with a Land Crusier and 8 of us piled in....Stephen, Shirley and Evelyn in the third row, myself, Carmen, Nana Yaw, and 3 year old Nina in the second and Eugene in the front seat with Atta.
The road wound through several villages and was punctuated with periodic rows of speed bumps which made it difficult to sleep.
Holy Child was on top of a green hill overlooking more hills and the ocean. Shirley showed us her dorms and her classrooms and we took a picture of Nina next to a statue that said when you educate a woman you educate a nation.
Then we drove to Cape Coast castle, a huge white affair, with ancient cannons ad rusted cannon balls facing the waterfront. We stopped to eat at a waterfront restaurant before going inside. I ordered banku and fish. Banku is a starch, fermented cornmeal, with a thick consistency. It is served in a ball with fried fish and pepper that looks like fresh salsa. I appreciate the variety of starches here, other than just rice; kenke a sliced fermented cornmeal in a circular patty, boiled yams, banku, fufu, a pounded flour that makes a slightly sticky cookie dough consistency meal to be eaten with soup, and also rice.
At the castle we visited the museums and then did the tour. It was very sobering to see the signs 'male slave dungeon' and 'female slave dungeon.' When we descended into the dark down the stone ramp, the smell was dank and the dark oppressive. You could hear people shouting in surprise and fumbling for pocket flashlights so as to avoid panic. The little light that came in was from three small windows at the top of the room. At the bottom the dungeon opened up to a room 20x15 with 3 inch shallow drainage ditches for liquid waste running throughout it. At the corners were deeper ditches for solid waste. We were told that between 50 to 150 men would be held in the dungeon at a time. We looked around at our small tour group of 20 that crowded the space and gasped. Captives were kept there chained together from 2 weeks to 3 months without being allowed to bathe. Imagine the stench!
Just on top of the male slave dungeon was a church for the slave traders... Our guide said that we would note these hypocrisy in the fact that Christianity and the brutality of slavery went hand in hand, but we would leave the judgement up to God.
At Shirley's place in NYC, Ghanaian culture is but one of the many cultures present, but here in Ghana, the Andoh household has its context. Being here answers so many unasked questions, some that I didn't even perceive that I had.
Friday morning a bunch of us got ready to take a trip to Cape Coast, two hours away, where Shirley and all of her sisters attended Holy Child, a Catholic boarding school, and Nana Yaw attended St. Augustine's. The driver came to the house with a Land Crusier and 8 of us piled in....Stephen, Shirley and Evelyn in the third row, myself, Carmen, Nana Yaw, and 3 year old Nina in the second and Eugene in the front seat with Atta.
The road wound through several villages and was punctuated with periodic rows of speed bumps which made it difficult to sleep.
Holy Child was on top of a green hill overlooking more hills and the ocean. Shirley showed us her dorms and her classrooms and we took a picture of Nina next to a statue that said when you educate a woman you educate a nation.
Then we drove to Cape Coast castle, a huge white affair, with ancient cannons ad rusted cannon balls facing the waterfront. We stopped to eat at a waterfront restaurant before going inside. I ordered banku and fish. Banku is a starch, fermented cornmeal, with a thick consistency. It is served in a ball with fried fish and pepper that looks like fresh salsa. I appreciate the variety of starches here, other than just rice; kenke a sliced fermented cornmeal in a circular patty, boiled yams, banku, fufu, a pounded flour that makes a slightly sticky cookie dough consistency meal to be eaten with soup, and also rice.
At the castle we visited the museums and then did the tour. It was very sobering to see the signs 'male slave dungeon' and 'female slave dungeon.' When we descended into the dark down the stone ramp, the smell was dank and the dark oppressive. You could hear people shouting in surprise and fumbling for pocket flashlights so as to avoid panic. The little light that came in was from three small windows at the top of the room. At the bottom the dungeon opened up to a room 20x15 with 3 inch shallow drainage ditches for liquid waste running throughout it. At the corners were deeper ditches for solid waste. We were told that between 50 to 150 men would be held in the dungeon at a time. We looked around at our small tour group of 20 that crowded the space and gasped. Captives were kept there chained together from 2 weeks to 3 months without being allowed to bathe. Imagine the stench!
Just on top of the male slave dungeon was a church for the slave traders... Our guide said that we would note these hypocrisy in the fact that Christianity and the brutality of slavery went hand in hand, but we would leave the judgement up to God.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Hello Ghana!
"There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the passion of life." - Federico Fellini
I have never been happier to see familiar faces as I was when I left the Accra airport and saw a sea of people waiting for loved ones. I scanned the crowd and kept walking and then there was Eugene, family friend of the Andoh's (my adopted family)waving. I smiled as I could not wave and we made our way to each other and there was Shirley, my college roommate/sister from another mother, who had been hidden behind the crowds. We talked, stuffed my bags into the SUV, and then drove along. They asked me my impressions of Ghana and I said it was too dark to tell.
I entered the house and ran to hug Mommy and Daddy Andoh and then Shirley's sister Carol whom I had never met but recognized from pictures, and all the various nieces and nephews whom I recognized as well. The Andohs are in Accra for the commemoration of the one-year anniversary of Shirley's older sister Barbara's death. The ceremony took place the week before I got here but the house is still packed like a family reunion with siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles at every turn and children underfoot. I was duly warned that the children would not understand my American English if I did not pronounce my consonants, especially my t's. The house is a self-contained fortress behind a wall and gate. It has a generator for blackouts and its own water tank and a garage full of other luxuries that the Andoh's shipped from NYC, many to give away and some to make life easier at home. After chatting for a while, I ate, got ready for bed, and pillow-talked with Shirley before dropping off into the sleep of babies.
In the morning Shirley's sister Regina was there, the one I met randomly on a NYC subway train when she recognized me from Shirley's pictures, and Shirley's brother Nana Yaw, his wife Carmen, and their daughter Nina, whom I know well. Carol's kitchen works in quick order with Carol and her house help Esther serving up toast and eggs and tea for breakfast at top speed.
Luckily there are quite a few sitting rooms, one having been recently transformed from a terrace to hold Barbara's furniture, and people seem to choose the one where others their age are; the one with the dining area and a tv that is hooked up to the Xbox just brought from the States belongs to the kids during the day; the one with the office and another television belongs to the young adults, and the third that is just off the front door and has a third refrigerator full of drinks and ice cream belongs to the Andohs who receive a ton of company, as can be expected. At night the space transforms, bedrooms are assigned to couples, and singles bring out airbeds and mattresses and choose couches.
I was eating when Shirley's uncle, her father's brother, came over to the house. He was wearing a black and white kente (for ceremonies or mourning) in the traditional way over one shoulder, the other bare. After he sat for a moment he announced in Twi that he was not here for evil, that when someone in the family dies, the family must get together and decide what is to be done with the things. Nana Yaw sat between me and Carmen, the only non-Twi speakers, to translate for us. Shirley's mother and father left the room to confer and came back to announce that Shirley would be given the responsibility to look after her older sister's things. The uncle asked Shirley if she would accept the responsibility and she tearfully agreed. We all started reaching for tissues.
Then Eugene began pouring alcohol for the libation, and Shirley's uncle said a blessing and poured the contents of the cup onto the floor. Eugene poured more into the cup and this time the uncle drank it, and then Eugene repoured and it was handed to Shirley's father and then her mother, and then Shirley and so on around the room. Once alcohol was poured into the cup we either drank from the cup or poured it on the floor. Carmen and Evelyn, both expecting children, poured their libations onto the floor, and so did I as it was early morning and I had not yet eaten.
The morning light revealed a much more westernized, much more developed capital city than Bamako. Yes Accra still has buses like Sotrames, open sewers and crazy driving where horns rather than brakes are used and walking vendors but it also has tons of greenery, a great deal of people who are not living hand to mouth, a majority of people wearing western-style clothes, more sidewalks, a variety of car makes and models. Also the Sotrames have cushioned seats with backs and not hard wooden benches; the cyber cafes have the newest flat screen monitors and dozens of computers not five; the power outages are planned and publicized...I could go on and on...
I have never been happier to see familiar faces as I was when I left the Accra airport and saw a sea of people waiting for loved ones. I scanned the crowd and kept walking and then there was Eugene, family friend of the Andoh's (my adopted family)waving. I smiled as I could not wave and we made our way to each other and there was Shirley, my college roommate/sister from another mother, who had been hidden behind the crowds. We talked, stuffed my bags into the SUV, and then drove along. They asked me my impressions of Ghana and I said it was too dark to tell.
I entered the house and ran to hug Mommy and Daddy Andoh and then Shirley's sister Carol whom I had never met but recognized from pictures, and all the various nieces and nephews whom I recognized as well. The Andohs are in Accra for the commemoration of the one-year anniversary of Shirley's older sister Barbara's death. The ceremony took place the week before I got here but the house is still packed like a family reunion with siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles at every turn and children underfoot. I was duly warned that the children would not understand my American English if I did not pronounce my consonants, especially my t's. The house is a self-contained fortress behind a wall and gate. It has a generator for blackouts and its own water tank and a garage full of other luxuries that the Andoh's shipped from NYC, many to give away and some to make life easier at home. After chatting for a while, I ate, got ready for bed, and pillow-talked with Shirley before dropping off into the sleep of babies.
In the morning Shirley's sister Regina was there, the one I met randomly on a NYC subway train when she recognized me from Shirley's pictures, and Shirley's brother Nana Yaw, his wife Carmen, and their daughter Nina, whom I know well. Carol's kitchen works in quick order with Carol and her house help Esther serving up toast and eggs and tea for breakfast at top speed.
Luckily there are quite a few sitting rooms, one having been recently transformed from a terrace to hold Barbara's furniture, and people seem to choose the one where others their age are; the one with the dining area and a tv that is hooked up to the Xbox just brought from the States belongs to the kids during the day; the one with the office and another television belongs to the young adults, and the third that is just off the front door and has a third refrigerator full of drinks and ice cream belongs to the Andohs who receive a ton of company, as can be expected. At night the space transforms, bedrooms are assigned to couples, and singles bring out airbeds and mattresses and choose couches.
I was eating when Shirley's uncle, her father's brother, came over to the house. He was wearing a black and white kente (for ceremonies or mourning) in the traditional way over one shoulder, the other bare. After he sat for a moment he announced in Twi that he was not here for evil, that when someone in the family dies, the family must get together and decide what is to be done with the things. Nana Yaw sat between me and Carmen, the only non-Twi speakers, to translate for us. Shirley's mother and father left the room to confer and came back to announce that Shirley would be given the responsibility to look after her older sister's things. The uncle asked Shirley if she would accept the responsibility and she tearfully agreed. We all started reaching for tissues.
Then Eugene began pouring alcohol for the libation, and Shirley's uncle said a blessing and poured the contents of the cup onto the floor. Eugene poured more into the cup and this time the uncle drank it, and then Eugene repoured and it was handed to Shirley's father and then her mother, and then Shirley and so on around the room. Once alcohol was poured into the cup we either drank from the cup or poured it on the floor. Carmen and Evelyn, both expecting children, poured their libations onto the floor, and so did I as it was early morning and I had not yet eaten.
The morning light revealed a much more westernized, much more developed capital city than Bamako. Yes Accra still has buses like Sotrames, open sewers and crazy driving where horns rather than brakes are used and walking vendors but it also has tons of greenery, a great deal of people who are not living hand to mouth, a majority of people wearing western-style clothes, more sidewalks, a variety of car makes and models. Also the Sotrames have cushioned seats with backs and not hard wooden benches; the cyber cafes have the newest flat screen monitors and dozens of computers not five; the power outages are planned and publicized...I could go on and on...
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Goodbye Mali
"Goodbye is the saddest word I'll ever hear..." -Celine Dion
After cleaning we walked to the river again. Our normal spot was full of boys fishing with pieced together sticks, homemade floating buoys, string and bait. The clouds were thick, full and only slightly tinged with color like a meringue and the sun was warm but not too warm. We could hear birds calling and frogs in the undergrowth of the reeds. Behind us a man in a blue garment and straw hat ressembling an upside down bowl with a brim around it weeded his hillside garden.
For the first time I started to get sad and nostalgic about leaving. I learned so much during my time. I met many wonderful people and some not so wonderful. And somehow I had connected with the land and with the people and though I was ready to move on, it would not prove effortless to do so. We searched for the last two kittens, having found a home for them too. When neighbors found out what we were doing they told us where the kittens were, dirtied from the mud of recent rains.
They mewed all the way to Constance's place. The one we left there, had been 'borrowed' by a customer who had mice and we demanded that he return it in exchange for the other two.
...The second to last day Rodney and I went out to dinner to eat. We found ourselves in the upscale part of Bamako, frquented by tourists, foreign nationals, and English-speakng Malians. I joked to Rodney that I wouldn't know how to act in a restaurant anymore. We liked the menu at the first one we saw, Le Relais, and sat down to eat at a table covered with a pristine, white tablecloth next to a window paned in glass and put white cloth napkins on our laps. Ah the luxury! We giggled to ourselves the whole time. We were given bread and butter and tall chilled glasses by jacketed waiters and then our sumptuous meals came. I had Pasta Arriabiata and Rodney had mashed potatoes, rice pilaf, and sauteed vegetables. Of course we spent what we normally spend in 7-10 days all in one evening, but it was a nice way to spend the second to last evening. We certainly had a one-sided view of what life in Mali was like, living as we did, but the truth is that most Malians would nt be able to afford the restaurant meal so we experienced the country as residents and not visitors...
After dropping the cats off at Constance's we returned home and started cooking. Another big pot of stew and big pot of rice and fried plantains and sodas. I cooked an extra pot of rice just to be safe. As we were cooking Andrew came to the kitchen door and said he was leaving. We had invited him to join the party knowing that he wouldn't leave for the airport until around midnight, but it was only 7 and he said he had already taken his bags downstairs and was now saying goodbye. Ok goodbye we said. Bon voyage! Safe travels to you too he said. And then he was gone. We were quiet for a few moments and then Rodney turned to me and asked who does that? Who just leaves for good without a moment's notice? That's rude! I said Rodney are you really that surprised? He's been rude the whole time. C'mon we have a party to get ready for...
The time for the party came and went and no one arrived. Ah yes...the concept of time. Half an hour later Maxime and Constance came in. Constance was wearing a dress and heels and looked a little nervous. Maxime had slacks and a traditional print shirt. We waited and no others came so we served food at the table American style. I got up to get more soda and spied Tacao in the hallway, also dressed very nicely looking nervous.
I had to convince her to go in the livingroom. She said she was ashamed and embarrassed. Of what I asked? She couldn't or didn't explain. So I told her that we were friends and just like I had to trust her plenty of times, she had to trust me. She accepted and I ushered her in and introduced her and served her plate. Just as the first crowd finished, Amadou and Mamadou came in and we served them too. The timing worked out because we only had 4 plates. We sat around and talked a bit but people who were usually talkative with us proved shy in front of others so it was a little awkward.
I thanked them all for coming, and for their hospitality and kindnesses towards us. I explained that there was no way to explain what that had meant to us but that the dinner was a token of our appreciation. They all smiled and said thank you. And then they begain to leave. Maxime and Constance took us over their house where they surprised us with a store bought cake inscribed with 'Au Revoir' and cider. We ate and toasted each other and slapped at mosquitoes into the night.
The next morning I awoke early with a stomachache (probably from the cake) and I stayed in bed until the last possible minute. Rodney kept coming in and worrying me about when I was going to finish packing. Tacao came over and did a extravagant intricate henna design on my feet to bless my travels. I told her I couldn't do my hands too as I still needed to pack and the henna has to dry. SHe came back in my room with me and helped me finish packing. Rodney and I stocked her with extra toiletries and things that it did not make sense for us to try to carry home.
I took one last walk down the street. I said goodbye to Moses at the Togolese restaurant, goodbye to Amadou, Mamadou, the baker and the young teen at the phone card stand, goodbye to Safi and her daughter Awa, goodbye Ouima and her nieces and nephews, goodbye to the all the guys around the cyber cafe and the mechanic shop and then down to Constance's store. I didn't say goodbye to her, rather see you later. She told me to go by the house to say bye to the kids. I did. They all followed me back to the store, Papi (Michel), Sophie, Jean, and Bintou, the 13 year old house help. And then Maxime arrived. He drove me back down to the apartment to load my things where I said goodbye and talk to you later and so glad you were here I couldn't have done it without you to Rodney who handed me a tupperware full of food for the trip.
Everyone waved as we rode past and I waved all the way down the street. Sophie burst into tears which broke my heart. Even as we were 10 minutes away I hear 'fanta' and looked out the window. Ouima's sister Safaraou was on the back of a moped heading somewhere and she happened to see me. At the airport, Maxime gave me a book of Malian artists with a lovely inscription from his whole family and kissed both my cheeks. After running back after him to get the money he had exchanged for me, I was on my way to Ghana!
After cleaning we walked to the river again. Our normal spot was full of boys fishing with pieced together sticks, homemade floating buoys, string and bait. The clouds were thick, full and only slightly tinged with color like a meringue and the sun was warm but not too warm. We could hear birds calling and frogs in the undergrowth of the reeds. Behind us a man in a blue garment and straw hat ressembling an upside down bowl with a brim around it weeded his hillside garden.
For the first time I started to get sad and nostalgic about leaving. I learned so much during my time. I met many wonderful people and some not so wonderful. And somehow I had connected with the land and with the people and though I was ready to move on, it would not prove effortless to do so. We searched for the last two kittens, having found a home for them too. When neighbors found out what we were doing they told us where the kittens were, dirtied from the mud of recent rains.
They mewed all the way to Constance's place. The one we left there, had been 'borrowed' by a customer who had mice and we demanded that he return it in exchange for the other two.
...The second to last day Rodney and I went out to dinner to eat. We found ourselves in the upscale part of Bamako, frquented by tourists, foreign nationals, and English-speakng Malians. I joked to Rodney that I wouldn't know how to act in a restaurant anymore. We liked the menu at the first one we saw, Le Relais, and sat down to eat at a table covered with a pristine, white tablecloth next to a window paned in glass and put white cloth napkins on our laps. Ah the luxury! We giggled to ourselves the whole time. We were given bread and butter and tall chilled glasses by jacketed waiters and then our sumptuous meals came. I had Pasta Arriabiata and Rodney had mashed potatoes, rice pilaf, and sauteed vegetables. Of course we spent what we normally spend in 7-10 days all in one evening, but it was a nice way to spend the second to last evening. We certainly had a one-sided view of what life in Mali was like, living as we did, but the truth is that most Malians would nt be able to afford the restaurant meal so we experienced the country as residents and not visitors...
After dropping the cats off at Constance's we returned home and started cooking. Another big pot of stew and big pot of rice and fried plantains and sodas. I cooked an extra pot of rice just to be safe. As we were cooking Andrew came to the kitchen door and said he was leaving. We had invited him to join the party knowing that he wouldn't leave for the airport until around midnight, but it was only 7 and he said he had already taken his bags downstairs and was now saying goodbye. Ok goodbye we said. Bon voyage! Safe travels to you too he said. And then he was gone. We were quiet for a few moments and then Rodney turned to me and asked who does that? Who just leaves for good without a moment's notice? That's rude! I said Rodney are you really that surprised? He's been rude the whole time. C'mon we have a party to get ready for...
The time for the party came and went and no one arrived. Ah yes...the concept of time. Half an hour later Maxime and Constance came in. Constance was wearing a dress and heels and looked a little nervous. Maxime had slacks and a traditional print shirt. We waited and no others came so we served food at the table American style. I got up to get more soda and spied Tacao in the hallway, also dressed very nicely looking nervous.
I had to convince her to go in the livingroom. She said she was ashamed and embarrassed. Of what I asked? She couldn't or didn't explain. So I told her that we were friends and just like I had to trust her plenty of times, she had to trust me. She accepted and I ushered her in and introduced her and served her plate. Just as the first crowd finished, Amadou and Mamadou came in and we served them too. The timing worked out because we only had 4 plates. We sat around and talked a bit but people who were usually talkative with us proved shy in front of others so it was a little awkward.
I thanked them all for coming, and for their hospitality and kindnesses towards us. I explained that there was no way to explain what that had meant to us but that the dinner was a token of our appreciation. They all smiled and said thank you. And then they begain to leave. Maxime and Constance took us over their house where they surprised us with a store bought cake inscribed with 'Au Revoir' and cider. We ate and toasted each other and slapped at mosquitoes into the night.
The next morning I awoke early with a stomachache (probably from the cake) and I stayed in bed until the last possible minute. Rodney kept coming in and worrying me about when I was going to finish packing. Tacao came over and did a extravagant intricate henna design on my feet to bless my travels. I told her I couldn't do my hands too as I still needed to pack and the henna has to dry. SHe came back in my room with me and helped me finish packing. Rodney and I stocked her with extra toiletries and things that it did not make sense for us to try to carry home.
I took one last walk down the street. I said goodbye to Moses at the Togolese restaurant, goodbye to Amadou, Mamadou, the baker and the young teen at the phone card stand, goodbye to Safi and her daughter Awa, goodbye Ouima and her nieces and nephews, goodbye to the all the guys around the cyber cafe and the mechanic shop and then down to Constance's store. I didn't say goodbye to her, rather see you later. She told me to go by the house to say bye to the kids. I did. They all followed me back to the store, Papi (Michel), Sophie, Jean, and Bintou, the 13 year old house help. And then Maxime arrived. He drove me back down to the apartment to load my things where I said goodbye and talk to you later and so glad you were here I couldn't have done it without you to Rodney who handed me a tupperware full of food for the trip.
Everyone waved as we rode past and I waved all the way down the street. Sophie burst into tears which broke my heart. Even as we were 10 minutes away I hear 'fanta' and looked out the window. Ouima's sister Safaraou was on the back of a moped heading somewhere and she happened to see me. At the airport, Maxime gave me a book of Malian artists with a lovely inscription from his whole family and kissed both my cheeks. After running back after him to get the money he had exchanged for me, I was on my way to Ghana!
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