Conflict in north of Ghana

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Akosua on my life

Discussing my limited cooking abilities, she expressed her concern that I would not be able to get married, to which I replied that I would have to find a husband who knows how to cook. Her reaction:
“You are SO white!”

Akosua and Ghanaian Food

Akosua is my ‘little sister,’ the guesthouse manager’s 18-year-old daughter. 'Maamie' as her family calls her, is one of my favorite people here. She has just graduated from a very good high school and is waiting to start university in August.

She speaks better English than most people I have met here and has much in common with the French or American teenager. We are quite an interesting pair of 'sisters': she is very tall, thin and stylish, and takes model-like poses; I am short, have a 'special' style, and am extremely awkward as soon as the camera comes out. (See illustration below, keeping in mind that this was take 3). Nevertheless, we get along very well. Maamie is very kind and funny, and I am learning a lot (beyond cooking) by talking with her. In addition, she really likes to spend time with me, which I appreciate greatly since my social network here is rather limited (other key figures in my 'social life' include Agyemang Sr and Jr, the guesthouse owner and his son!!)

She lives a couple tro-tro rides away from the guest house, at home with her mom and middle brother. Sometimes, however, she stays at the guest house when her dad needs to go out.

The first time we met, we planned a Ghanaian cooking lesson. The next weekend, she gave me a shopping list with approximate prices to ensure that sellers did not take advantage of my obruni-ness, and I went to Kumasi’s Central Market (allegedly the largest open-air market in West Africa) where I purchased the necessary ingredients. Upon my return, we cooked Jolof rice (in amounts that enabled me to eat it for almost the entire week!)

She and her dad invited me to their house the next weekend, where we watched a terrible movie, and cooked “red-red” a combination of fried red plantains (fried in red palm oil) and a bean stew. It was delicious! I really enjoy Ghanaian food…except for Kenkey, which I found extremely un-yummy (it is fermented, and so very bitter.)

Red-Red

I have been invited to cook and stay the night at the house this coming weekend. I’m excited! It is very fun to spend time with Maamie and nice to be in a real home once in a while.

Emanuel

I met Emanuel my first weekend in Fumesua, the town the office is in. He was a bit surprised at the intense excitement that his shirt caused me (in my defense, I was jetlagged and hadn't had much human contact for a while!), but let me photograph him.

"Obruni, obruni! How are you?"

Irene and Abigail

Obruni is the Twi word for 'white person.'

Wherever I go, the word is yelled at me from all sides. Kids, teenagers, adults and older people all scream it: ‘Obruni! Obruni!’ Kids wave and smile, as they repeat the word. Some variations include: ‘Obruni obruni! How are you?’ ; ‘Hey white lady!’ ; ‘Obruni! Akwaaba! (Welcome).’ Most of the time, the calls won’t cease until I’ve responded to each individual a number of times and, and more often than not, even this won’t do it!

Kids follow me around, often in groups. They smile, observe, laugh, shake my hand, touch my skin, or give me a high five (I once even got a hug!). Frequently, they ask me to ‘snap’ them. Once the camera comes out, countless little people appear, fighting for a spot in the picture.

As I was walking home from the fried rice stand last night, two girls named Abigail and Irene followed me to the guest house. The three of us sat on the front steps. We talked a bit about school and parents, but mainly examined each other’s hair and skin, smiled and laughed. Abi gave me a 'fancy' hairdo. At the end, even though I declined her offer to do her homework for her, she gave me a big hug. Irene, more shy, shook my hand.

At first, all this attention felt strange and a bit embarrassing. And even now, I sometimes wish that I could look less alien, and walk around without creating such a commotion. According to my friends, many people outside of cities are excited about obrunis because while they have heard about them or seen them on TV, they have not come across a live specimen.

Every once in a while, I am ‘Obruni’-ed by a grumpy-faced individual, asked for money, or bugged by someone professing his love to me. Overwhelmingly though, Ghanaians are incredibly welcoming and kind. I have befriended some of the people who live on the street between the guest house and the office, and am greeted daily. One woman calls me “my sister,” the other “my baby.” On Friday night, I was walking home later than I usually do (probably around 9PM!) and one of the older ladies who does not speak English offered to walk me home via a younger translator. I couldn’t believe the kindness.

As one of my coworkers noted, if only Ghanaians received the same welcome abroad!