Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Appeasement

Jane's jumped on board and has gotten herself a blog. Go there till I make good on my promise (Friday, in all likelihood).

www.journeyofjane.blogspot.com

She and "Frenchie" are my new roommates. :D

Stolen Snippets

Contributed by Hoag Julie to the OKYEAME (ex-pat newsletter)

This is Accra:

• All directions begin with "where All directions begin with "where are you coming from?" No directions actually involve street names. (ex: you go down the street with the embassy on it,
round the next circle, exit at the campaign sign for President Kufour, take the next dirt road to the corner where they sell pineapples and turn right).

• All areas of town are referred to by their traffic circle, not their compass direction (its not "north of the city", its "near Tetteh Quarshie circle")

• Pineapples are 35 cents, but a box of Cheerios is $6.

• All naked people on the streets are explained by "oh, he's quite mad"

• Asking directions is more entertaining than informative.

• The definition of a "drive through" is the apple vendor at the stoplight.


This article is in The Week magazine (sent to me by Momma Jeanne):

A Country Is Not Just a Village
editorial Ghana Chronicle

It's time to name the streets, said Accra's Ghanian Chronicle in an editorial. Our informal system of simply describing the location of a house by citing landmarks is fine for small villages, where everyone knows everyone else. But Ghana's cities are growing larger every year. And the lack of street names is a real problem for paramedics and firefighters. They waste valuable time trying to get a panicked victim to explain how to get to the scene of an accident or a fire. Street names and maps would vastly improve response times. Of course, city officials will surely say there is no public money for any such schemes. So why not privitize it? It should be possible to name streets after individuals or organizations at negotiated fees. That money could fund the signage and map printing. The next stop would be numbering the houses so that each person in the country had a specific mailing address. However, house numbering without proper street naming would not be of much benefit.


Kelewele Junction because of the woman selling kelewele on the corner. But the cross streets? They're there, labeled, I just have no idea what they are and neither would anybody else.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Suspense Builder

I rushed here to the internet cafe under the blue threats of the sky, but it hasn't started to rain just yet.

Spring doesn't translate exactly to Ghana's year-round temperatures. But spring is a time of newness and I've got it, even in spring-less Ghana.

New apartment.

New job.

On top of that, I've been swamped finishing up the old internship, scoring ACT essays online for a short (paid) project, tutoring, squeezing in screenings from a weeklong film fest, and was just Foreign Service Examed this morning. Whew. Plus, I went out dancing last weekend and revived my old addiction. Only problem is, I'm too tired these days!

Baseline: I'm busy.

I know; I'm surprised, too!

More details on the above to follow soonest; pictures promised as well.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

They say it's your...

21st: Indian food in Turkey with Ian
22nd: Mel cooked great meal in Branford basement for friends
23rd: something in Egypt…(mom, what’d you figure out?)
24th: 3-day water fight in Bangkok with high school friends Keith and Bridget, riding around on a truckful of whiskey-swigging Thais we had only just met

That brings us up to yesterday, number 25. A quarter of a century!


In my mind, I think I’m usually disappointed by birthdays. But in my memories and looking at that list, I think that may be inaccurate. I think I anticipate disappointment, so as to not expect too much and then be let down.

Yesterday exceeded my lowered expectations. It was a grand day, starting with birthday wishes from a Rwandan friend in Cairo, the nicest I think I’ve received:

"Dear Jill, The world comes together to recognize the greatness of the day you came to this world. May this day be blessed and honored world wide just like it has touched the hearts of those in Cairo. I wish you a happy B'Day."

I decided to play hooky from work when JHS told me he wouldn’t go to school so he could spent the day with me. We had a late breakfast and headed to the zoo at my request (what better way to combat getting old than to do something young?!). At the gate, the friendly old man chatted me up by asking if I was Ghanaian and saying I should be because I was walking with JHS, “his brother.” When he then attempted to charge me the foreigner fare though, I smiled my way into the local rate: “But you said I should be Ghanaian!”

Note: it is not recommended to visit zoos in developing countries. The tortoises get more cage space then the lions or leopard.

Next up: beachfront restaurant hidden away behind a residential area and some churches. A great secret garden type place, aside from yet another pet monkey landing on my lap and making me paranoid about monkey diseases. A bit of tuna and kenkey to tide me over till dinner and then some lounging at home.

Stuffed myself with Indian food in the company of my roommate and her Ghanaian friend, Scott, Jane and Manon (all featured in previous posts). I even got a birthday cake made from scratch, with candles, the embarrassment of ‘happy birthday’ being sung to me in a nice, fancy restaurant. The frosting was left off since Jane knows I don’t like it so much, but it was there for those who wanted to add it to theirs.

We headed to Substop, a restaurant owned by an Egyptian/Ghanaian married to a Scottish girl. Selected because there is free vodka on Wednesdays. Other people joined us there (a Canadian journalist, Egyptian engineer, two Ghanaian brothers, Nigerian childcare worker, American public relations guy, and JHS). A brief stop at a reggae beach party.

It was a happy day. So much so that yesterday’s goodness has carried over into a skippy today.

Market Day

Shopping Made Easy?

Makola Market has what you want, what you didn’t know you wanted, and plenty of stuff you definitely don’t want.

Fabric in a variety of colors, textures, cloth, patterns. Bought: army green material for twirly, full skirt (only later realizing I needed an extra ½ yard to make it flouncey like I wanted). Khaki for capris. Grey for pants if there’s enough material, a skirt if not. Some purple-blue patterned for a tank top. On another trip we had bought solid colored fabric that we thought would be good for light-weight tank tops, only to discover this time that they’re usually lining. Oh well, still think it’ll make a good shirt on its own…

Hair clips wanted: only Multi-colored Ugly found.

Shampoo: avocado scented Sunsilk or Dark & Lovely? No thanks.

Next we headed over to the Obruni Waywo area. Translation: dead white people’s clothing. Re-translation: second-hand clothes.

Along the way was a gauntlet. Men standing in a row with a few items to thrust out at you. Many, many arm-grabs. (Sorry, Charlie, but that will not get me to look at your wares!) I think Jane, Manon and I had similar natural reactions: a quick twist of the arm, perhaps a slight downwards push, to remove the offending hand. It’s not just foreigners that get the hands though; I was watching. But it was only we foreigners that got particularly bothered by the space-invasion. (Another annoyance, when shaking hands, the men always hold onto your hand for a painfully long time.)

The Obruni Waywo area was like Goodwill or Salvation army, only stalls upon stalls of clothing in narrow allies under a tent-like roof. Clothes were heaped upon the floor, but we focused on the few hanging up that could easily be seen. We were in search of the ever-elusive swimwear and managed to find it after at least 6 requests that resulted in 6 fingers pointing in different directions. On the way, there were a slew of tailors at their ancient machines, cages of chickens, a few goats and a man pounding fufu (using a big wooden pole to mash the cassava). The bathing suit selections were minimal, but I bought a striped string bikini (my 3-year old polka dot one has lost its shape). Normally, in the States, a bathing suit is the most difficult thing to shop for. It requires a trip to every possible store, trying all available styles on in front of the mirror and much rumination.

Not so here. You see it, you buy it, un-tried-on. Hesitate and it’s gone. You have to have a very keen eye and, like a raven, anything that glitters in the sunlight at a distance gets a second-look. “Free for looking, my friend” (oh wait, that expression is Egyptian). Everything I ended up buying that day (purple capris, a striped shirt, bikini, and a grey skirt) was bargained down to 20,000 cedis (about $2) and that seemed to be the magic number for my cohorts as well.

Luckily Jane and I have mostly opposite tastes, so no fist fights broke out over a certain item we both wanted. This certainly isn’t the Gap or Old Navy: each thing is one-of-a-kind. No options in sizes or colors. What you see is what you get. Somehow, that makes it fairly easy shopping. That and the fact that the things are so cheap if it doesn’t work out, it’s not a big loss.

Who needs a mall when you’ve got Makola!?

The only thing missed was the A/C!

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Shiny, Happy People

According to a Dutch sample survey about how “people living in 90 specific countries enjoy their lives,” the citizens of Denmark, Malta and Switzerland are the happiest in the world (scoring 8/10). Iceland and Ireland came in second with 7.8. Ghana ranked in the third group, with a score of 7.7, just ahead of Canada, Guatemala, Luxemburg, Holland and Sweden (which all scored 7.6).

The model of the northern European country fulfills all the five main criteria of a society that enjoy good standards of living, in relation to levels of income, democracy and good governance, the low levels of corruption and the high margins of freedom.

Armenia, Ukraine, Moldova, Zimbabwe and Tanzania came at the bottom of the 90 country
list, with Tanzania scoring a mere 3.2.

From The Daily Graphic, April 6th


Someone once asked me what fuels my happiness. My answer then was looking at and being thankful for what I have, rather than focusing on what I don’t have. So far, my happy-meter here has not outranked my time in Egypt or Malaysia overall. However, comparing my first two months in all three countries, this has been a bit easier (because I’ve done it twice before; though actual facts on the ground make Ghana more difficult, I’m in a better position to deal with them: bucket baths, the heat, general feeling of anxiety and homesickness), which I suppose translates into greater happiness. (I might not have said that last week, but the past two days have been partially sunny skies, with sun, sun, sun predicted in no time at all.)

What about the happiness levels of the people in the US, Egypt, Malaysia and Ghana comparatively? The article in today’s paper didn’t indicate if the others were part of the sample set and if so, what their scores were. I’d also be interested in how and who exactly they interviewed. You stick to the middle-to-upper class, that’s sure to affect the outcomes.

I don’t think it’s immediately apparent that Ghanaians are happy. Ghanaians in general are quite argumentative and aggressive.* (This made me think about Egyptians, who are also not exactly stoic, but I’m inclined to describe them more as passionate and emotional.) Perhaps, as Rana previously pointed out, that immediate release of feeling is something lacking in more developed countries; letting those feelings out may mean more satisfaction, less irritation and grudges, avoidance of a powder keg.

Ghanaian bosses treat their employees like dirt (“Get me water!” demands with no please or thank you’s) but without my outsider’s eyes, maybe that isn’t considered so rude or exceptional. Dance parties in the traffic jams? Dance parties at funerals? Are these causes or products of happiness? What attitudes and actions fuse to make Ghanaians happier? Does the church play a role? (Do people pray more often to get more or to say thanks for what they have?)

It is telling that the top ten countries were almost exclusively Western (baring Guatemala…reason enough to visit it?!). Doesn’t Ghana hold more in common with those at the bottom of the list than those at the top? So what is it that makes up the difference? Something about their mentality, their spirit, their disposition?

[Maybe it’s the Rastas that skew the data: “don’t worry about a thing cuz every little thing is gonna be alright” is on my headphones at the moment. And who doesn’t love a bonfire by the beach?]

I asked PE, a Ghanaian co-worker, why it was that Ghana was way up there: there’s peace here, people are well-off compared to countries like the Ivory Coast where there is war and people can’t find enough to eat, people are more relaxed and laid back (can call the boss to say you’re going to be two hours late because of the traffic and she’ll understand but you couldn’t do that in the US because time is money), peace of mind. Even the poor man may be happy because he doesn’t have to worry like a rich man about all the things he must do, how to get/keep money, always striving for more. She acknowledged that there are stresses here, citing the weather is enough to cause strain (and definitely make you grumpy!).

Friend #2, BB: Ghanaians like to have their fun; look at how they celebrate their holidays, weekends, going out. They’re serious about their ‘chilling.’ If I wanted to go to Osu right now, I could. So our economics are lower, but we have fun. Productivity levels low; fun levels high.

*an aside: BB says that it’s not that people are aggressive or confrontational, it’s the manner in which the languages are spoken, particularly Ga and Twi (versus Fanti). She said “What are you saying?” in Twi and then Fanti; the first had hard consonant sounds and did appear to be meaner, irrespective of demeanor and facial expression. Those languages, she claims, take more energy and need more force to be spoken. She likened it to an American and a British person speaking English and how that would sound to an outsider. The Americans tend to talk much more quickly and that might indicate to someone that the American doesn’t really want to be talking to them or may be in a rush, when in reality it’s just their manner of speaking. The English speaks more slowly, intentionally; Ghanaians who have been influenced by the British may then speak more slowly and others may perceive that falsely as lack of intelligence.

Friend #3, JHS: Peace and stability. Satisfied with having needs met, some people want more, but not unhappy without.

*an aside continued: JHS says that people do argue, but not angrily or meanly. They’re just opinionated and also see it as fun.



The Egyptians say ‘ilhumdolilah’ (thanks be to God) in regards to a misfortune just as often as a success. It could be worse, I image is the logic, but thank God it’s not. An antecedent to my “happy-fuel” answer. Are the Egyptians happy though? Certainly they like to have fun (and as mentioned in a previous post, can most definitely create their own) and are often making jokes and trying to ruffle someone’s feathers. They drum, sing and dance like the Ghanaians. Laughter on their lips, just looking for any excuse to tumble out.

Malaysians probably have more in terms of money and possessions and fewer stresses/hassles. Are they happier though? My Sufi friends are plenty happy, but they’re not a representative sub-population. Malays are generally contented, satisfied (the ilhumdolilah Muslim attitude coming into play?). Not necessarily the same as happy though, is it? The Chinese in Malaysia are probably more likely to be striving for something else (education, money, climb the ladder), so may be less happy. I had limited interactions with Indians, so I won’t generalize as much, but I think perhaps they feel more on the margin of society, so that may affect happiness. Because I have to think of the Malaysians on a more macro-level, the influence of culture and religion I’m trying to assess come into play within one country.

This got me to thinking about my Buddhist-nun-to-be-friend. Is seeking enlightenment a vastly different thing than seeking happiness? The talk/life seems to be a lot about suffering…doesn’t the focus prevent happiness, besides for the sadist? Are happiness and enlightenment mutually exclusive? Is happiness a matter of concern at all to a Buddhist nun/monk?

Monday, April 04, 2005

Fairly Painless

My visa says it's good for 90 days...but the stamp nearly-illegibly says 60 days. My 60th day will be Friday, so I headed to Immigration this morning, prepared for a nightmare and praying that the Imodium would work (the first time in two months I've had to take any, amazingly enough!).

The office was new and the lines were short. No go there to get this, go there to get that, push way to front of non-line back at the first window, ala the Egyptian Mogamma. All I needed was a passport photo (check), money (50,000 cedis / month extension, that's about $5), and a return ticket. Opps. Didn't have that one...

So I went in search of the nearest internet cafe or travel agent to get a fake itineary, which the officer said would suffice. A 10 minute walk led me to KLM, but the lines were long and the sign for an STA Travel Agent across the street beckoned.

But "lights off" at that office, so down the street I went. I found another agent, no waiting line and power on, and told them I wanted to go to Chicago, mid-June. (Don't get your hopes up, Mom!) This place was outrageously priced, but all I needed in my hot, little hands was that printed itineary, so I didn't complain. ($1900 RT, one way more expensive, but I know it's possible to get it cheaper than that...)

Back to Immigration, hand over the passport, pay the money. Back in two weeks to pick it up.

Hallelujah.

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Slump

This morning all I wanted to do was crawl into my parent's huge, high bed, pull the blankets up over my head and hide, safe and secure. In my mind, it was still cold enough to have the joy of snuggling under a comforter (for just that, comfort).

I've been at the bottom of that U-shaped culture shock curve the past week or so. At least once a day I have that "why am I here? this place sucks" attitude. Sometimes it lasts a split second,
other times for hours. I know it's a matter of circumstance, starting with being sick and exacerbated by traffic, travel, electronics, mail, and work woes.

Just now someone called out to me on the street (after I asked someone else about where I could buy a fried egg sandwich); I thought he wanted to tell me something about that. But, no, he wanted to shake my hand (and hold it entirely too long) and ask me my name. I was annoyed (and reminded of my father jokingly calling me back just so he could, "If I didn't call you back, think how far you would be by now.") and rather brisk with him. Fed up.

I'm trying to reserve judgements while in this low spot, but rather than wanting to stay a year or more, this week it's been "till the end of May" or "till the end of July." The latter would give me 6 months here, which is a substantial period, though not as long as I had booked in my mind. But why limit myself unnecessarily? If I have nothing to do here, well then, time to move on. (To what? that is also another reason for my current bout of quasi-depression.) I just have to remember that I have FREEDOM to decide and embrace that.

I'm gonna ride out this little storm. I predict clear skies by middle of next week.
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