March 8, 2011
Greetings! It’s been a while. Haven’t been up to much since the great
expedition to Mole. It’s been a quiet few weeks, but maybe that’s
just because I’m such a natural around here they don’t even notice me
anymore.
Or maybe not.
Went to Kumasi, the second biggest city and the former center of the
Asante Kingdom, this past weekend. We visited the palace, the central
market, a traditional home where Yaa Asantewaa (basically the African
equivalent of Joan of Arc) lived and two Kente-weaving villages. Kente
is the traditional cloth that you stamp with Adinka ink to incorporate
different symbols. After you stamp, you lay it out in the sun to dry.
There are about a zillion people running around laying out their
strips/trying to sell you jewelry and paintings and keychains and lots
of other stuff you don’t need, so sadly, as I watched everyone
trying-to-be-cautious-but-really-just-stepping-wherever-they-felt-like-it,
I was reminded of my crafting woes and puffy paint explosions at the
beginning of last semester. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, and
now I’ve just admitted it to the world. Good decisions.
Monday morning we were on our way to another market when we decided to
switch plans because we spontaneously got invited to a naming
ceremony. Didn’t know the husband, wife, or the baby, but why not?
It’s a traditional rite that all Ghanaian kids go through after
they’ve been alive for eight days. At that point, they have survived
a full week, so they are considered a healthy addition to the
community. The only problem is, it started at 9:00. When ten of us
oborunis rolled in at 9:30, we were the first guests. Momentarily, we
must have forgotten we were in Ghana. We helped set up and waited for
an hour and a half, but then we had to leave because we were supposed
to meet for lunch before heading back to Accra. I’m really not sure
why everyone was so worried about lunch, but I guess when you’re part
of a big group you gotta go with the flow. I protested, but nobody was
really with me. Oh well. I’m sure there will be ample opportunities
in my life to go to Ghana for a semester and randomly get invited to a
cultural ceremony by someone I’ve never met. I’ll do it then.
The bus ride back was beaaautiful. So many hills and huge trees and
leafy magnificence. I ruined that a little for one Ghanaian family,
but I swear it was an accident. Here in Ghana, gas stations and rest
stops aren’t quite as plentiful as they might be in the U.S., so we
“do nature” fairly regularly. That’s all fine and dandy, but probably
not if you’re in someone’s front yard. Oops. Definitely didn’t know,
until I saw the lady walking towards me just as I was turning around
to meet my friend. I then proceeded to run away and accidentally buy
a dozen bananas when I only wanted two. Miscommunication is a
frequent occurrence over here. Shocking, I know.
My name is also quite boggling to a lot of Ghanaians. Whenever I
speak in class, they ask my name, I say it and then ask my question or
state my comment. Without fail, they ask me to repeat and slow down
every time. After four or five tries of me saying “Dev-in, Dev-in,”
usually one Ghanaian picks it up and repeats it for the 300 others in
the lecture hall. It must be weird, because after I introduced myself
to someone on Friday night, I actually got a disgusted “Devin? Ewwww”
and a squinty, contorted face. I guess I sort of assumed that no
matter what the culture, it would probably not be the most polite
thing to actively express disgust at someone else’s name, but you know
what they say about assuming. I laughed.
Off to the airport tomorrow morning to fetch the second Geary to
arrive in Africa, then major adventures to Tanzania on the horizon!
See you all there.
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