Ghana

Four days in Ghana could be a complete short story or even a book rather than a short blip on the pages of this blog about my trip around the world. I fell in love with Ghana. Perhaps it was because of the contrast to Morroco. People on board seemed to agree that they didn't like Morocco. either. To me it was dour and heavy which probably had a lot to do with the real or imagined condition of women, certainly in the more recent light that’s been shining on Islam in general. True we don’t have anything like a complete story of the Islamic world, in particular with regard to women, but, on the surface of it, it ain’t pretty and makes me uncomfortable. When it is underscored by seeing so many women covered, when you hear music that is so unfamiliar and feels not at all uplifting, when you look at the Islamic art which seems to be based so much on geometry and all this is being colored by stories of the Taliban and blue burkas, it is difficult to conjure up a positive attitude toward even this more Westernized country. If only the extremists could soften their views about what God-Allah wants for/from us. If only 9/11 had never happened, I believe my view of this country that is so ‘other’ might be a little more positive.

But back to Ghana. I slept through our arrival, preferring to face the world after the early rush of so many of the field trips disembarking at once. That process can be exciting but chaotic, with all the students milling around, backpacks loaded, water bottles dangling, with the chatter of anticipation buzzing all over the ship. Also I knew we would be docking in a crowded port 30 minutes by bus to Accra (over an hour during rush hours). We soon learned that the road situation and infrastructure in general in Ghana is woefully inadequate. I had nothing scheduled for that first day until the Welcome Reception at a University at 6pm so I just stayed on board. The ship had arranged for shuttle buses to and from town on the half hour. Having misread my watch, I left an hour early… a good thing because slow traffic allowed me to take pictures from the bus. I made notes of some of the sights along the way at roadside stands: a dozen different colored fitted sheets hanging from a line and blowing in the wind like spinnakers; piles of green and orange oranges stacked in triangles on a makeshift table along with other produce in baskets; terribly unkempt (by our standards) soccer fields with three or four games going on at a time (like in the US) ; a naked toddler running around while his mother sat chatting with her friends ; a wonderful music video on the TV in the bus with what sounded to me like reggae music played by colorfully dressed musicians; dirt paths through stubbly fields leading from the main road to residential areas that looked nothing like Levittown or Somerset NJ or Elmhurst ILL; huge trees shaped like umbrellas with groups of people sitting under them to escape the sun, some tending little wooden stalls selling …whatever; cell phone towers…many cell phone towers…we were told that almost everyone in Ghana has a cell phone; electric wires strung on bumpy poles that looked like they’d been processed by hand rather than in a lumber mill - we learned that many houses have illegal power lines running to them; shack after shack after shack made out of pieces of red railroad freight cars, most of them with “Vodaphone” signs painted on them. (no slouchers, the Vodaphone folks!). I wasn’t sure if these shacks were dwellings in addition to being ‘stores”; patches of black where vegetation had been burned – the roadsides seemed clean except for concentrated areas of debris all swept up waiting to be collected or, more realistically, just burned so we could breathe plastic fumes instead of nice clean air…(excuse my cynicism –“plastics, my boy, plastics). Some of the burned out areas were, I believe, burned patches of sugar cane, which needs to be burned to enrich the soil or some such thing. Rows of stands selling everything from diapers to new furniture, cabinets, refurbished hubcaps), bikes (if you lost your bike, this is the place to find it), coconuts, fish, produce – a veritable Wallmart on the side of the road!; women (rarely a man) balancing big metal or plastic tubs on their heads full, I suppose, of the goods they had purchased along the road. I have concluded that this accounts for the beautiful posture they all exhibit.

We finally reached the Total Gas Station that also serves as a bus terminal in Accra. I was able to catch another bus that took us to the reception. We were in a large tented outdoor area at a small university with molded plastic chairs in pastel colors lined up or piled up; a long buffet table was set up off to the side. After some drumming and dancing, followed by a few welcoming speeches, we all ate while mingling with the Ghanian students – all very friendly and well spoken. It was a nice little mixer. The drink of the day was pineapple juice – the most delicious I have ever tasted. Luca, are you the one that loves pineapple so much? Well you would have LOVED this juice!

The next day a group of us – students and LLL’s – took the bus to town for some shopping. As we stepped off the bus we were ‘accosted’ by hordes of young men with bracelets and carvings and necklaces and lord-knows-what-all being pushed at us. “What is your name, Mama? I want to make you a bracelet like this one with your name. I’ll give it to you for very good price.” “Why you not buy from me, Mamma? I very nice guy.” Their 'assertiveness' was a little annoying but most were good natured and even funny. So I just held my head up and marched on saying with a laugh, “No. No. No thank you.” When we crossed the street and stepped up on the walkway where the ATMs were located, they all backed away. Off limits and they knew it. Pretty funny I thought. So we got our ‘cedes’ (Ghanaian money pronounced like the music discs) and headed for the Global Mammas shop on a side street nearby. I bought a few things there and later wished I’d gone back for more. Everything is hand made and charming. On each article there is a hangtag with the name of the woman who made it. If you google Global Mammas, you can learn more about this wonderful program of micro lending.

Before leaving the ship I had spoken briefly to Lisa Salmans who manages a restaurant in Accra. Kathy sent me her number & e-mail address. She met Lisa in LA at the showroom where she works. Lisa was there to buy furnishings for the restaurant in Ghana. “ My mother’s going to be in Ghana! …”, Kathy told her. Good. A contact! I had no idea what to expect: would it be a little place on a side street with local food or what? And here I was bringing a bunch of women to a place I knew nothing about. Well it was a beautiful place in a tall pink – PINK – building right in the middle of town. The décor was lovely – all black and white in a round room with window walls looking out in all directions over the city. The white dishes, the black placemats, the sparkling glassware, the ceiling to floor sheer drapes and the white leather chairs were all simple and very elegant. Lisa was generous in her praise of your help in choosing everything, Kathy. The place really could have been in New York or even Paris. There were 8 of us including three students. We had a lovely lunch including some traditional Ghanaian dishes. While we drank champagne, courtesy of Lisa, she told us about how she came to be the manager of Citizen Kofi. The naming of the restaurant was interesting I thought: implying that Ghana is a citizen of the world and Kofi is a name that personifies peace as in the work of Kofi Annan at the United Nations. It would have been great to hear more about Lisa’s life but time just didn’t allow.