I'm too lazy to proofread this....

Greetings again!

The power continues to go on and off here. It was off overnight the other day, starting at about 7pm. My class had to end early because of it, so I walked across campus to my dark room with the help of a nifty keychain flashlight (thanks, Mom) to eat dinner in the dark.

In other news, there was a strike going on at the University last week. All of the junior faculty members will not be receiving their full salaries this semester. Instead, the government will be paying them in installments- guess they don’t have the money upfront. In addition, all of the maintenance and auxiliary staff people are “renegotiating” their contracts (on strike also, one of them just told me it was “renegotiation.” Several classes were canceled, and none of the classes I’ve been to this week have had a PA system, because there is no one around to run them. Doors to classrooms being locked because janitors took off with the keys was a major source of class cancellations. The drummers for my dance class were among the strikers, so no dance Of course, this is Ghana, so when I walked past the protest at the University gates, there was dancing and music blaring from giant speakers, in addition to the picketing signs. The first protest I’ve ever been to actually…

This past weekend my program took everyone on a two night trip to Kumasi, in central Ghana. Kumasi is considered the cultural heart of Ghana, as the 2nd largest city, and the one that has continued to maintain its historical displays of “African-ness.” Kumasi is home to the Asanti (or Ashanti), whose empire was at one time much larger than present day Ghana. The city surrounds the Asantehene’s palace- the dwelling and political center for the most important Chief and Queen Mother in Ghana. Today they have no official political power, but the president and parliament are constantly consulting them- it would be extremely foolish to piss off the largest and most influential ethnic group in Ghana. Some people here, like my friend’s roommate, actually deny their real ethnic heritage and instead claim that they are Asante, because they are still revered for their former glory. Of course, they attained their major economic success and clout by systematically destroying smaller empires for the slave trade, but, you know, details… The Asanti are more known among modern Ghanaians for putting up a very strong fight against the British prior to colonization. They were almost impossible to defeat, as they were exceptional warriors who were powered by the guns the British sold to them in exchange for slaves, but finally fell in the early 1900’s. When we toured the former Asantehene’s palace (right next door to the new one) we examined a display case full of the guns the Asantehene would hold and wave in the air as his attendants carried him throughout town. Each night the guns are removed from the museum and are used to protect the Chief as he sleeps, and they are still used in major festivals. Absent from the museum was the real symbol of the Asante’s power- the golden stool. Stools are very important in Ghana. I have never been to a Ghanaian home that didn’t rush to find a small stool for me to sit in (unless I’m in Accra, where they rush to find a plastic chair…) and most are adorned with religious or Adinkra symbols (more on that later). The Asantehene traditionally sits on a stool of pure gold- but the stool was strategically hidden before the Asanti fell to the British, and remains hidden to this day, for fear of it being stolen and used to commit political ransom. Our tour guide claimed to be one of the few who knows where the stool is hidden. I wouldn’t buy it…

Our actual first stop on the trip was to the Kumasi Central Market. This was a good experience, for sure. Our director kept warning us that it would be a very overwhelming experience, cautioning that most of us would probably hop off the bus, take a look, and want to run back on the bus. Overwhelming is not a word I would have used, and I found myself wanting more than the sparse 30 minutes allotted to explore. Kumasi Market is characteristically different than the markets in Accra- for one, it is 95% controlled by women, few male sellers, zero male shoppers. This reduced the typical market hassle significantly- market women are less aggressive than men, so no one was grabbing me and harassing me to come into their stall. The women are more inclined to call out “white woman!!!” with a huge smile on their face- and I can’t say no to a conversation with a big, friendly smile. Most women completely ignore you as they go about their shopping, as if to say “I see you Oburoni, and I could care less that you are here, in fact, stop staring and get out of my way!” I appreciate this- a slight slice of autonomy in a country of sticking out like a sore thumb. The market is intense, however, and I can see why some people wouldn’t like it. You have to fight your way through a literal sea of people, and hold your bag very close to your side. Kumasi isn’t devised like other markets that more or less have a vegetable section, a fabric section, a house hold section, and so forth. Here there was a fabric lady sitting next to a tray of onions, and I had to duck to the side to avoid being hit by a man carrying a plate of raw goat meat, while I tripped over a woman sitting with peppers- all on my way to look at a bar of soap… Not really a hassle free environment, but I thought it was fun, anyway…

After the market, I roamed away from our hotel to take a solitary walk and was quite rewarded by the neighborhood people. Children playing games using their shoes as cars while sitting on the side of the road… men answering the call to prayer from the local mosque, some leaving what appeared to be a Muslim wedding or birthday gathering, full of beautifully dressed (and covered) women and children… men and women tending to their shops for the final hour… women cooking dinner for their families and waving up at me… children roaming home from school… exactly what I would want my life to look like if I could live in a small community where everyone lived, worked, and schooled within one city block. It was interesting to reflect upon how different their lives look for the simple fact that the never need to commute anywhere for routine daily activities like we do. A very pleasant slice of daily life and Ghanaian culture that I miss out on as I live on campus.

The next day we traveled to two villages known for their contributions to traditional Ghanaian crafts. Bonwire is the home of Kente cloth. Think real hard and imagine “African print.” You are probably thinking of the bold colors and patterns of Kente. Many countries and clans claim that they started Kente, China has even found a way of manufacturing it by machine, but no self respecting Ghanaian would accept Kent from anywhere else. Kente is woven on a loom into one of several patterns that have special meanings like “family unity” and “strength.” A cloth woven to show the golden stool of the Asanti is also a very popular design. I of course bought cloth with all three designs But small pieces- a piece of Kente cloth can easily cost over $100- and I don’t like it that much. I did get to try the actual weaving though- it’s difficult! You sit on a very small stool in a very cramped loom, thread strung between your toes… I’ll get the video of my weaving up on Picasa. The Kente village itself was unpleasant. It’s a popular tourist destination, and as soon as the local children see you driving up in a bus- they attack. Really, it feels like being attacked. They don’t really have a concept of a “personal bubble” here. One steps off the bus and literally can’t take a step further because there is a child to both sides and in the front of you, either trying to sell you something, or trying to ask your for food, money, or ballpoint pens (seriously.) As we listened to our bubbly guide Williams explain the different Kente symbols, the Children hovered in a circle around us, slowly closing in until our guide would stop his talk to snap at them in Twi. While it is obnoxious that they make it hard to walk, the Children don’t really bother me. Perhaps I am too hardened, I made it a general rule long ago that I wouldn’t give to any person that begged of me here- it just isn’t realistic- and you can’t ever tell how legitimate their need is. (At the next village we stopped at, a child asked “please, some food for me” of one of my friends- while holding food in their hand.) They are pretty much trained from birth to accept the idea that they should always try to ask us, because eventually they will get lucky. I don’t have a hard time saying no, I just smile and shake my head, but for some of the people with me, the experience ruined their whole day.

Apparently the children were more intense at the village of Ntonso (I didn’t notice, I was having too much fun learning about the crafts) home of Adinkra. Adinkra is a set of symbols and a technique of stamping them on to cloth. There are over 150 symbols, though only 60 are used regularly. Each symbol represents an African parable. They only do the stamping with a dye made of a particular tree from the Northern Region. They soak the bark, pound it like they pound fufu, and then boil it in big caldrons (I laughed in spite of myself that they looked like witch’s caldrons), Our guide happily explained that before the bark has become dye it can also be drank to fight diarrhea and PMS… For a small fee we could get a cloth and stamp a few symbols for ourselves. I made two, of course. We all contributed to stamping a long cloth that is now displayed in our program office.

The next day we concluded our trip be traveling to Lake Bosomtwe. A beautiful sight, though I can’t say my breath was exactly taken away- I’ve been spoiled by Oregon’s Crater Lake. Bosomtwe was created many years ago by a meteorite, and is 10x12miles wide, surrounded by beautiful, tropical hills. While scientists debunked the mystery and removed the meteor, the lake is still held as sacred to the Asante. Some say it is the home of the god Twi, others maintain that the spirits of the dead stop there before continuing on to the afterlife. Traditionally, fishermen of the lake were not allowed to use paddles or boats, lest they disturb the spirits. Today that rule does not hold firm (we traveled around in a motor boat) but we did see men floating around on special logs, using their hands to paddle and check their fishing nets. Fun fact: the lake grows every year with the rainy seasons. While it is disease free (meaning we got to swim!) it’s not for drinking, so the water level doesn’t ever diminish. Since its creation the lake has swallowed at least 4 villages, and the ones that ring the surface are probably going to be gone within a few years (including the resort we ate lunch at.)
Ok, that was my trip. This feels like an inadequate entry, but not a whole lot else is happening right now. I only have 45 days left in Ghana, and I’m actually getting to the point where I will be sad to leave. Ready to leave, but saddened. I start my second internship on Monday- doing God knows what in an orphanage, but I’m really excited to have more to do again. Classes effectively end after next week, so I’ll need to start studying, since I’ve decided to take off for the week before my first exam to travel, but life definitely has a feeling of slowing down- if that’s even possible. This has been the most relaxed semester of my life (I’m on fun book number 6!!!) I’m also finally starting to connect with people on my program. I’ve had friends, but am only just now considering them close enough to miss as I will miss Ghana. It’s fun to think they open new possibilities for visiting other parts of the States, since they are from all over the place.

Take Care!