A few anecdotes from yesterday. I love how every moment here is filled with surprises. Amidst what may seem like the most boring town, where on weekends I have spent hours playing Chutes and Ladders, there are tiny moments of fascination that make this experience so fulfilling for me. This morning, for example, I woke up to another breathtaking sunrise. The air is thick and misty and the large trees are silhouetted in the fog by the rising sun behind them. I opened my gate to a family of snails, nearly the size of hand, making their way across my path. Do snails live in families?
Last night, O, my neighbor, came over just to say hi. Suddenly, she squealed with excitement at the trees in my yard. Somehow, ridiculously, we had all failed to notice the hundreds of ripe plantains dangling mere feet from my door. She ran to get a machete, and before I could stop her, she had literally hacked down an entire tree in order to get to the high growing fruit. The huge bunches of plantains were laid out on the ground and the ripest ones were fried up immediately for a delicious dinner. O. also managed to chop down a few pawpaws (papaya) for dessert. Usually, I am not so keen on this fruit, but I loved the not-quite-ripe sweet crunch of the ones growing in my yard.
During dinner, I talked a bit with my neighbor R. about his work as a teacher. He told me there are 50 or 60 students in each of his high school classes so I asked him if discipline is difficult. R. is a small man who looks almost like a teenager. I have found him to be gentle, intelligent and the most intellectual person I have met in a while, in Ghana or otherwise.
He told me that discipline is maintained through the caning of students with a sort of bamboo or wicker rod. He complained that he has to thrash the students although he hates doing so, because of the ineffective headmaster of his school. He prefers the less violent method of having the teenagers kneel in front of the classroom when they misbehave. It has to be mentioned that one of his students is my small boy. In spite of the fact that we all spend time together nearly every evening, R. has still on occasion thrashed P. (my small boy) during the school day.
If students resist the punishment, they receive it on their backs, instead of their hands. A typical punishment might be 3-5 whips of the cane. R. told me that he once had to cane his entire class of 50, and that the process was exhausting. But the children he are stubborn, he explained, so I have to do it even though I don’t like to.
Evenings here are creepy. The house sits on a major road connecting Accra (Ghana’s capital) to the Northern part of the country and Burkina Faso. Cars and trucks roar by all night bringing people and goods to all the villages and towns along this north-south route. The house is set back from the road, but there is a constant din of traffic, ceiling fans and a choir of frogs who live outside my bedroom. Lizards scurry on the metal roof; the silence of the countryside I anticipated was as false a hope as clean air around here. With the constant music playing, and bonfires of garbage blazing, Ghana is not the peaceful refuge that I imagined. The tranquility manifests itself in different ways – through the patience of the people here and the lack of rush and business.
In addition to the hustle and bustle beyond my walls, there is plenty hubbub within. At night, the cockroaches come around, giant fast critters eager to overtake every dark, dank corner of my abode. There are grasshoppers too, and large spiders scurrying on the walls. It’s enough to make me nauseous, and the catalyst for my new purchase of a mosquito net – a wall between me and the nighttime visitors that terrorize my dreams.
This week, I spent my first Shabbat in Osino, in my house. It coincided with my first night alone in my new surroundings. A friend of mine from Hebrew University packed me a wonderful Sabbath kit, complete with candles for each week and 6 small gifts to create a festive mood. Her first present was a mini Kiddush cup, perfect for holding the sanctified Fanta-wine. I did Kiddush on the phone with my mom, and enjoyed a meal of sweet, sugar bread, pasta and tomato sauce. I cranked up the electric fence and settled in to bed with a movie.
The morning began with a phone call from my small boy who was on his way over to help with the laundry and cleaning. I told him not to touch anything, and ran to turn off the electric current surrounding the house. He was a bit shook up when I found him outside the gate, but I assured him that it was safe to enter. He told me had nearly come straight over without calling first and was grateful to god that he had opted for calling!
We spent Saturday assembling the mosquito net and cleaning the house. P. is good company and I enjoyed talking with him. After noon, we walked to town where passersby greeted us and asked if we were getting married. He laughed at them, inquiring, “Do you remember me having a wedding?” It was a silly question, brought on by fascination with my whiteness more than a true belief that we were actually a married couple.
P. invited himself over for dinner. Apparently, in Ghana it is much more appropriate to invite oneself over to someone's house, rather than to invite guests to your own. Thus, I am more likely to have guests come here than I am to receive invitations to their homes, unless I ask myself to come inside. In town we picked up ingredients for dinner – sweet plantains, tomatoes, cabbage and chicken. The meat here is sold at “Cold Store” stands, some of the stores featuring refrigeration. The storekeeper reached into her freezer with bare hands and pulled out a ¼ chicken from within the stacks of damp and soiled cardboard boxes. She then proceeded to hack apart the thigh and drumstick with a machete, before tossing my dinner into a plastic bag. With her same bare hands, she gave me change. Our whole chicken dinner cost around three dollars and easily fed five.
We began preparing the food at five o’clock, with O. from next door teaching me to cook. There were many steps involved; we pre-boiled the vegetables and chicken before frying them all separately. There is pepe pepper to grind with a mortar and pestle, rice to cook, vegetables to wash and clean for dirt and bugs. We didn’t eat until eight, but the food was great and the spiciness within reason. The chicken was hard for me to eat. I couldn’t tell what was flesh , bone or fat and I picked gingerly at the hacked chunks of poultry. The others ate it all, leaving only small pieces of bone on the side of their plates.
After dinner, two of the neighbors asked me about the recent war in Israel. They know about Hamas, but had not heard of the rocket attacks on S’derot or of Gilad Shalit. I filled them in as well as I could and then we changed subjects to music and dance.
O. played mp3s on her cell phone while P. danced in the hallway. They sang a Ghanaian hit for me that sings the praises of Barack Obama. Most of Africa is extremely excited about the new American president!
They left around 10, and then I went to bed where I crashed promptly onto the floor when my bed slats had come loose. Annoyed, I made another bed, disappointed that I could not try out the new mosquito net. I watched the rest of my movie and fell asleep.
Today most people are at church and shops are closed. I was going to go on a hike, but prefer to relax, read my book and catch up on writing. Tomorrow and this week will be full of travels and adventure.
Just now, I was cleaning my floors, collecting water from the faucet outside my door. I noticed the lizards running around furiously, brushing up against trees and frantically headed in every direction. Split seconds later, 5 large drops fell on my face, followed by a fury of angry rain spilling from the sky. The sun was gone in an instant, replaced by torrents of rain banging on the roof creating thunder in the house. I dropped the bucket and mop and ran for cover. I thought it didn’t rain here during the dry season, but it appears I had been misinformed.
Last night, O, my neighbor, came over just to say hi. Suddenly, she squealed with excitement at the trees in my yard. Somehow, ridiculously, we had all failed to notice the hundreds of ripe plantains dangling mere feet from my door. She ran to get a machete, and before I could stop her, she had literally hacked down an entire tree in order to get to the high growing fruit. The huge bunches of plantains were laid out on the ground and the ripest ones were fried up immediately for a delicious dinner. O. also managed to chop down a few pawpaws (papaya) for dessert. Usually, I am not so keen on this fruit, but I loved the not-quite-ripe sweet crunch of the ones growing in my yard.
During dinner, I talked a bit with my neighbor R. about his work as a teacher. He told me there are 50 or 60 students in each of his high school classes so I asked him if discipline is difficult. R. is a small man who looks almost like a teenager. I have found him to be gentle, intelligent and the most intellectual person I have met in a while, in Ghana or otherwise.
He told me that discipline is maintained through the caning of students with a sort of bamboo or wicker rod. He complained that he has to thrash the students although he hates doing so, because of the ineffective headmaster of his school. He prefers the less violent method of having the teenagers kneel in front of the classroom when they misbehave. It has to be mentioned that one of his students is my small boy. In spite of the fact that we all spend time together nearly every evening, R. has still on occasion thrashed P. (my small boy) during the school day.
If students resist the punishment, they receive it on their backs, instead of their hands. A typical punishment might be 3-5 whips of the cane. R. told me that he once had to cane his entire class of 50, and that the process was exhausting. But the children he are stubborn, he explained, so I have to do it even though I don’t like to.
Evenings here are creepy. The house sits on a major road connecting Accra (Ghana’s capital) to the Northern part of the country and Burkina Faso. Cars and trucks roar by all night bringing people and goods to all the villages and towns along this north-south route. The house is set back from the road, but there is a constant din of traffic, ceiling fans and a choir of frogs who live outside my bedroom. Lizards scurry on the metal roof; the silence of the countryside I anticipated was as false a hope as clean air around here. With the constant music playing, and bonfires of garbage blazing, Ghana is not the peaceful refuge that I imagined. The tranquility manifests itself in different ways – through the patience of the people here and the lack of rush and business.
In addition to the hustle and bustle beyond my walls, there is plenty hubbub within. At night, the cockroaches come around, giant fast critters eager to overtake every dark, dank corner of my abode. There are grasshoppers too, and large spiders scurrying on the walls. It’s enough to make me nauseous, and the catalyst for my new purchase of a mosquito net – a wall between me and the nighttime visitors that terrorize my dreams.
This week, I spent my first Shabbat in Osino, in my house. It coincided with my first night alone in my new surroundings. A friend of mine from Hebrew University packed me a wonderful Sabbath kit, complete with candles for each week and 6 small gifts to create a festive mood. Her first present was a mini Kiddush cup, perfect for holding the sanctified Fanta-wine. I did Kiddush on the phone with my mom, and enjoyed a meal of sweet, sugar bread, pasta and tomato sauce. I cranked up the electric fence and settled in to bed with a movie.
The morning began with a phone call from my small boy who was on his way over to help with the laundry and cleaning. I told him not to touch anything, and ran to turn off the electric current surrounding the house. He was a bit shook up when I found him outside the gate, but I assured him that it was safe to enter. He told me had nearly come straight over without calling first and was grateful to god that he had opted for calling!
We spent Saturday assembling the mosquito net and cleaning the house. P. is good company and I enjoyed talking with him. After noon, we walked to town where passersby greeted us and asked if we were getting married. He laughed at them, inquiring, “Do you remember me having a wedding?” It was a silly question, brought on by fascination with my whiteness more than a true belief that we were actually a married couple.
P. invited himself over for dinner. Apparently, in Ghana it is much more appropriate to invite oneself over to someone's house, rather than to invite guests to your own. Thus, I am more likely to have guests come here than I am to receive invitations to their homes, unless I ask myself to come inside. In town we picked up ingredients for dinner – sweet plantains, tomatoes, cabbage and chicken. The meat here is sold at “Cold Store” stands, some of the stores featuring refrigeration. The storekeeper reached into her freezer with bare hands and pulled out a ¼ chicken from within the stacks of damp and soiled cardboard boxes. She then proceeded to hack apart the thigh and drumstick with a machete, before tossing my dinner into a plastic bag. With her same bare hands, she gave me change. Our whole chicken dinner cost around three dollars and easily fed five.
We began preparing the food at five o’clock, with O. from next door teaching me to cook. There were many steps involved; we pre-boiled the vegetables and chicken before frying them all separately. There is pepe pepper to grind with a mortar and pestle, rice to cook, vegetables to wash and clean for dirt and bugs. We didn’t eat until eight, but the food was great and the spiciness within reason. The chicken was hard for me to eat. I couldn’t tell what was flesh , bone or fat and I picked gingerly at the hacked chunks of poultry. The others ate it all, leaving only small pieces of bone on the side of their plates.
After dinner, two of the neighbors asked me about the recent war in Israel. They know about Hamas, but had not heard of the rocket attacks on S’derot or of Gilad Shalit. I filled them in as well as I could and then we changed subjects to music and dance.
O. played mp3s on her cell phone while P. danced in the hallway. They sang a Ghanaian hit for me that sings the praises of Barack Obama. Most of Africa is extremely excited about the new American president!
They left around 10, and then I went to bed where I crashed promptly onto the floor when my bed slats had come loose. Annoyed, I made another bed, disappointed that I could not try out the new mosquito net. I watched the rest of my movie and fell asleep.
Today most people are at church and shops are closed. I was going to go on a hike, but prefer to relax, read my book and catch up on writing. Tomorrow and this week will be full of travels and adventure.
Just now, I was cleaning my floors, collecting water from the faucet outside my door. I noticed the lizards running around furiously, brushing up against trees and frantically headed in every direction. Split seconds later, 5 large drops fell on my face, followed by a fury of angry rain spilling from the sky. The sun was gone in an instant, replaced by torrents of rain banging on the roof creating thunder in the house. I dropped the bucket and mop and ran for cover. I thought it didn’t rain here during the dry season, but it appears I had been misinformed.
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