New Digs

Before I left for my trip to the field, I had been asking around to anyone I could about new living situations. Nothing was wrong with the guesthouse that I was staying in (the staff was kinda lame, but that is to be expected) but it was quite pricey even with my massive discount (from $18/night to $10/night). Eventually I met a woman named Pat who has worked with NGO’s and organizes homestays. She also owns an outdoor drinking spot away from the city center, which I think I mentioned in a previous post. She told me she had something lined up, so when I returned from the field I went to her bar so she could show me where it was.
But before I go in to that, I have to have a little side note. Anyone who has traveled to developing countries has definitely seen people wearing shirts donated by, well, us. You know those shirts from the baseball team you used to be on, or that collared shirt with the old company logo on it that you thought were being given out to the needy. Well this isn’t the point, but they are sold cheap to clothes dealers in these countries and then resold to all the people in places like, say, Northern Ghana. Usually they are pretty non-descript or uninteresting, but sometimes they are, for whatever reason, completely hilarious. Usually this has to do with the shirt’s “gender agreement” like the two times I have seen young men in “Powder Puff Football” t-shirts complete with rosters on the back, or the shiny Redken shirt I remember seeing on my first trip to Belize. One I remember seeing in a market in Nicaragua worn by a large woman, angry-looking and aging, was so vulgar I would not put it on the internet, and I am sure she did not speak any English. The one I saw that day at Pat’s bar, however, was by far the most entertaining to me, and the fact that Ghana’s official language made it quite puzzling. A fit guy probably in his mid-20’s was wearing this tight shirt that said, “DOES THIS SHIRT MAKE MY TITS LOOK BIG?”. This poses so many questions, one of the best I think is, “who donated that? And did they know it would end up on a non-English speaker in a far-off country?” I really need to start keeping track of all the shirts I see abroad.
Anyway, Pat showed me to my homestay, a mere 2 blocks from her bar, and across the street from her house, where a Dutch volunteer stays. It is not a family homestay, as the traditional setup is, but just one guy, a relative/family friend of Pat, named Awine (I think that’s how it’s spelt, otherwise, it is pronounced Aweenay), and he said his English name is Gregory, but that’s lame. He is 30, though I think he looks 25, and he likes to sculpt his guns (my words, not his)…His words were that he works out at the gym…wherever that is. Also, he says he works as an electrician, though he hasn’t worked much since I’ve gotten here, I am guessing because I paid him up front.
I like the place a lot. My room is good sized, with a bigger bed than I had at the guesthouse. There is a table, and some pictures up so it feels kinda homey.
It is pretty dingey, and I had to pay him for the first month (about $90, including breakfast and dinner) up front so that he could buy locks for the doors.
He also said he would buy a mirror so I could shave more effectively (Awine doesn’t grow facial hair, except for his ballin mustache) but I am still waiting.
It does not have a big wall and gate around the house, as most homes with foreigners living with them do.
There is no running water, just a bunch of 5 gallon jugs we fill from a pipe down the street, which is nice because when the jugs sit in the sun the water gets pretty warm, allowing me my first hot (bucket) shower here in Ghana.
The kitchen is small, and Awine does the cooking (though I keep trying to help) and it is all done over charcoal, no gas or electric. I think cooking something simple like rice would be hard for me to do well over charcoal.
When I saw limes in the kitchen, I asked Awine what he uses them for. “Well, I sweat a lot,” he said, “so before I shower rub lime under my armpits…Oh, and I also use it when I cook dog.”
We have a puppy, couldn’t be more than a month or two old (he probably won’t be ripe before I leave). Super cute and looks like it could be a rottweiler when he grows up. I accidentally stepped on his leg on the way out the door this morning. I felt so bad, and its little yelps were so sad. Though it was also very repetitive and sounded kinda like that noise you’re supposed to listen to for 60 seconds while looking at the picture of a racecar and try not to laugh. That made me feel a little better about the situation. I love that dog.
BTW, I have an issue with Ghana’s bathroom culture. And I will explain this vaguely. For some reason they have western toilets, though I believe traditionally people clean themselves…Indian style, as I know it. Even in other parts of West Africa I hear they use squatters. This poses a problem, as many times there are no trash cans for TP, or no TP, or no faucets/buckets for water by the toilets. I like India’s bathroom culture, the way it is set up is no problem for me. And Western style, well I grew up with it. And Mexico/Central America was Western style with trash cans for TP…But Ghana is just confused. Trying to be modern, but inevitably this is still Africa and that doesn’t always work. I hope that made sense to at least some of you.
Awine is very kind and accommodating, though it is weird because he insists on waiting on me. I mean, at my home stay in Guatemala it did not seem odd for my middle-aged host mother to cook for me and do all the dishes, I mean, that was part of the agreement. It’s the same here, but Awine feels more like a roommate, since he is young and it’s just us two. I would rather help with the chores, but he insists on doing them. Though it might be better. I am not used to cooking and cleaning the way he does and would be terribly inefficient, but I would still like to learn for the 2 months I am here.
Bugs are everywhere. Mostly ants, quite a few mosquitos, some other little beetly things. I finally put up my mosquito net.
On Tuesday Awine brought me my breakfast (tea, sugar, bread) but he also hooked me up with a ripe mango (almost too ripe). This was exciting as most of the mangoes around town were still green. Also, I haven’t had more than one or two mangoes since my 3-week mango binge in Managua, Nicaragua about 11 months earlier. The first bite tripped me out. It was truly a life-altering experience to see how much this sensation was identical as it had been across the ocean a year before. For anyone that trips out on familiar scents or flavors that you associate with a place you have traveled, try tripping on it in a new country and it’s way more bizarre.
Last night, we lost power, which is not uncommon, but usually short-term. I was in the bathroom, and as shocking and disorienting as it was (everything literally went black) I couldn’t help but laugh at the brilliant timing. Without fans, it was too hot to be inside, and had already started sweated quite a bit. I sat outside with Awine and our neighbors for a bit before he said, “let’s take a walk”. So we headed into the dark streets, which were now pleasantly populated due to the widespread power outage. We wandered to a tucked away spot where we met one of Awine’s girlfriends for a drink. I cannot remember her name, but her friend was Joanne, who was visiting from Accra. We talked about Ghana and politics and the IRS (she works for Ghana’s IRS). She was great to talk to because she was not in the least bit shy to share her opinions of foreigners and foreign aid, which were not too positive. I tried to defend myself, but I she made a lot of good points. She said that foreigners seemed snobbish, which I did not doubt. I told her that it is hard to be friendly to everyone after a month of attracting so much attention and being called “white man!”, “obruni” and other synonyms everywhere you go. She had a lot of interesting perspectives though, and I thoroughly appreciated her honesty. The typical conversations I have with people consist of them telling me how much they love America and want to go there and, “can you take me to America with you?” Now, I understand that they are trying to leave a difficult economic situation, but what can I do to help them? Plus, I feel that most people here should feel blessed to live in Ghana, which is far more economically stable than most of Africa, as well as much more peaceful. I have much more sympathy for people trying escape conflict or famine, than people simply trying to get rich quick through a few years of work in America.
On the way back from the spot, Awine and I meandered in the darkness through the narrow dirt back roads that felt more like walking through a rural village, but the occasional reminders that we were in a city did pop up. Like after a dozen sheep crossed in front of us, we were passed by someone on a motorbike. Many of the homes were the round style with a thatched roof seen in rural areas, but instead of mud, they were made from concrete, and a few even had satellite dishes. Lots of people were still outside escaping the heat, many catching sleep on a bench or lying on the ground. It was a very peaceful walk and Awine told me that sometimes he just walks all night, like he had done the night before when he couldn’t sleep. He said he had gone out around midnight and walked and ran until he returned at 4 in the morning. And he was STILL up before me! By the time we got home power was back and we were able to enjoy the comfort of our fans.
Has anyone reading this ever listened to Esperanza Spalding (other than Harley)? I have been listening to that and it’s pretty rad.
In other news, I have been back in the office working on all the photos from the previous week along with a few other random projects.