Here in Africa there is an interesting acronym, TIA, which stands for "This Is Africa". Many say it when trying to give an explanation for something out of the ordinary, or when looking at a scene of incredible beauty. This weekend, on my home stay in Accra I found myself thinking of this very acronym, in both senses, on an incredibly regular basis.
While this weekend had been introduced to us as a weekend stay with an elite family in Accra, I found myself experiencing nothing of the sort. By chance, I found myself paired with the only family, as far as I know, that was by no means well off. That being said, I would not have had it any other way, as the experience was quite enlightening.
The journey started when three of my class mates and I found ourselves squashed into a taxi cab with our destination unknown. Our academic advisor had handed our cabby money, rattled something off in Twi to him, and we were off. Despite our confusion, a state of mind all too common here, we decided to go with the flow and not ask any questions. We all exchanged telling looks as we laughed out of nervousness for whatever was to come.
We pulled up to the gate of a boarding school and entered, going up the long drive to the very top of a hill. Here the cabby gave us the OK to get out of the cab. Entering into the gate of the house ahead, it was clear that none of us knew exactly what to do with ourselves. After somewhat reluctantly being welcomed into the house, we found ourselves sitting in a lovely air conditioned room watching TV and exchanging looks. What now?
My classmate, David, and I had to explain to the mother of the house that he and I were not to be staying at that residence, as we were not assigned to it. After several miscommunications and a whole lot of confusion we discovered that my host sister (this host mothers niece) would be picking David and I up at the house and would then be dropping David at his host families home.
Somewhat soothed by the formation of a plan, we ate some dinner by the TV and waited for my host sister to arrive. It was in this moment I found myself incredibly thankful that we had not been served Foo-Foo... my least favorite thing about Ghana.
Erica finally arrived, although she did not bother to greet any of us till a half hour after her arrival. Her aloof attitude caused my panic to kick in. Where the heck were we? Where were we going? What is this child doing on my lap? Who am I?
Finally, at about 9:30pm (we started this journey at 3:30), we all piled into the back of a truck and headed for the main junction in town. From the junction David and I bid our fellow classmates farewell and jumped on a tro-tro with Erica to head to Davids host families house.
20 people packed like sardines in a rickety ancient bus. I am always fascinated that these things are even able to run. As we drove along the dusty dirt rode, each piece of the bus moved separately, as if connected by a single screw. As we traveled over the many bumps in the road, I noted that the floor of the bus and my seat were moving in opposite directions. TIA.
After several stops, we hopped off the tro-tro. In one swift movement I jumped out, slamming my head on the roof of the bus and coming down onto a rock that then bounced up cutting my ankle and leaving me with an egg like bruise. I held my breath, sucked it up, and started walking up the steep long hill to Davids host house. In the darkness I could not see where I was going, I barely avoided falling into a gutter on several occasions.
Upon arriving at Davids host house we were welcomed in and offered a beverage, which we all gladly took. The house was nicely furnished and had a large TV and even a pool table! After a round of pool, Erica and I left David and headed for my host home.
After a short tro-tro ride, we made the long trek to the top of a hill, where my host family lived. I was relived to find that I was welcomed with a whole lot of love. My host mother saw me and yelled out, "Oh my baby, my daughter, come to me!". She gave me a big big hug and smothered me with kisses and then refused to let me from her side as she brought me around the house.
The house was unlike the other two my classmates were at. It was clearly not the house of an elite family in Accra. In fact, the house was not even finished being built, but it never would be, as this seemed intentional. The nicest and most furnished room in the house was mine and as you can see below, all I had was a makeshift bed (blankets piled on top of planks of wood) and a plastic chair.
While the house may not have been anything to see, the view from the house sure was. From the top of the hill you could see all of Accra. The few lights that lit the area twinkled. The cool evening breeze flowed through the palm trees and for a moment, as I starred out over the beautiful scene, I forgot my worries and was at peace. TIA.
This was short lived, as I was soon whisked away back inside to go have some bonding time with my sister. Although, Erica is not my only host sister. I have two younger host sisters, as well as two host brothers. Though Erica, I found, was far more committed to being a part of my family than anyone else in the house. That evening she stood stark naked in her bedroom (so much for Ghana being conservative) and lectured me on how we were going to be real sisters and how we would care and love for one another. It was a lovely speech, but her stark naked body stole her gusto as it was quite the distraction. This was sooo not something I was used to. But I would have to be by the end of the weekend.
I awoke in the morning to the sounds of Africa. Dogs barked, insects buzzed, birds chirped, roosters sounded their alarm and the people sang. At the hour of 5am it was still dark and the view was magnificent. I had my first ever bucket bath as I watched the sun rise over the horizon. Quickly, I attempted to clean off the days dirt, a futile task. This was certainly something I don't think I could ever quite get used to. TIA.
For breakfast I was served a slice of bread and steaming hot instant coffee, which Erica had poured into an old plastic water bottle. I scarfed down the bread and forced myself to drink the coffee, or at least some of it, despite the fact that I don't drink coffee. To refuse it would have been rude.
After dressing, we departed for the boarding school where a breakfast was being held for the sake of product promotion and women's worship. I listened as the women of the village were wrongly educated on how a number of products would improve their health. I laughed to myself when I was clearly referenced in one of the sermons and everyone turned to look at me. I was the only white person for miles. I then found myself separated out with the single women at the breakfast. The married women of the community sat on the first floor and listened to a sermon on how to have a successful marriage and how to pay respect to ones husband. The single ladies on the second floor enjoyed, what was in my mind, a somewhat controversial sermon about how to be an attractive woman and find a husband. I could not help but feel bad for the women around me, as they were clearly being viewed as a failure for not being married yet. The women on either side of me, for whatever reason, seemed to find comfort in the idea that I also was not married.
Following the service/promotional breakfast, I returned to the house and passed out for a solid three hour nap. The six hours at the breakfast had worn me out. Who knew that watching people preach and pray could be so tiring.
In the evening I went out with Erica in the neighborhood. She insisted on buying me food of the side of the road, and I reluctantly ate it with a smile on my face. I know all to well how unsafe and unsanitary the food on the side of the street is here. I prayed that I would not get food poisoning from it.
I returned back to the house to find my host mother disheveled with only a piece of fabric rapped around her as she lay on the cold floor napping. When she saw me walk in her eyes lit up and she called to me to come to her. She pulled me down to the floor and insisted that I lay my head on her lap. She stroked my hair and rocked me back and forth like an infant, all the while hand feeding me. I choked down the food and smiled. The piece of fabric rapped around her failed to stay up around her chest for the majority of this interaction. TIA.
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| Imagine wearing your Sundays best here. |
After a goodnights rest I awoke once more at 5am to prepare myself for church. Despite the degree of poverty this family was living in, Erica and her mother fixed up very nice for church. At church I was placed in a small Sunday school class. The teacher of this class seemed to be preaching to me and me only. Todays lesson was about preparing your heart for prayer and it was the teachers mission to instill God in my heart. Repeatedly the class bowed their heads to pray. I was surprised to find that in Ghana people pray out loud. Quite loudly, in fact. It sounded more like individual chanting than praying. I found that as everyone else spoke out "Oh my God...", I was thinking "OH MY GOD!". At one point I was asked where I worship in the US. In my hesitation I was found out. Before I could think of an answer, the teacher asked if I worshiped at all. I replied that I was not Christian. This was not a satisfactory answer and only increased the teachers determination to instill God in my heart.
After Sunday school we ventured up a level for the days sermon. I was happy to find that the majority of the time was spent singing rather than preaching. Despite the state of the church, they had a full band (complete with cow bell) hooked up with microphones. People danced, sang and rejoiced. All the while I wished that I could be a fly on the wall. I wanted to take some pictures, but it was hard to be inconspicuous when everyone in the room was playing One of These Things Is Not Like the Other...that thing being me.
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| Erica and I outside of church. |
Following church I returned back to the house with Erica. Erica laid down for a nap, while I hung out with the children who had been left home alone all day long. I sneakily gave them all the food that Erica had purchased for me off the side of the road. The children were quite excited about this. After gobbling down all the food they all came into my room to say "God bless you" and "Please stay".
The Children's faces were more childlike in the absence of their parents and elders. These once extremely well behaved children began to loosen up, sensing that I was not looking to keep them in line. I allowed them to play with my hair and color with all the pens I had in my purse. We all laughed and giggled as we made funny faces and took silly pictures. These children were extraordinary. Our fun was cut short when Erica awoke from her nap and scolded them for bothering me. I tried to explain that I had wanted them in my room, but regardless the children marched out single file, their faces once again quite glum.
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| Chelton (left), Christansia ( 2nd on left), Victoria (right) and their friend Gifty |
When it came time for me to pack up my things and leave, I snuck into the children's room to give them one last silly face. They giggled and it warmed my heart to see them smile once again.
THIS IS AFRICA.
