The Slowness

10/03/08

I’ve had a cultural and geographical observation that people move very slowly here. Tony’s strides seem to be in slow motion, one foot down… then the other, to create a lethargic mosey. People linger with nothing to say, after a meeting or a visit, and just stare, and wait for something unknown. The language barrier sometimes provides very little to be said after the initial greetings we know in Ewe. It’s announced, “Ok I think I will leave you now,” and then people sit and stare for a few minutes, then say “ok” and finally get up. If you say you’re going to leave, and they reply with “so soon?” that means you’re supposed to stay and look at each other some more. The general laziness though is different. Things run on a much slower pace that what I’m used to. I have so many goals to accomplish in such a short amount of time, so I wanted to get started right away. Coming to this village from a society obsessed with time, obligation, and schedules, the slow pace of life here put an abrupt halt on that mindset. At first, it sometimes left me pacing around, feeling unproductive, but now I only get frustrated when we try to do work in Ho. [It takes 1 ½ or 2 hours to get there in the morning, putting you in Ho around 10am. The last bus from Ho leaves at 1pm, so you only have 3 hours to do work, which is simply not enough time. We will stay later to complete our work, but the consequence is a taxi back to the village, costing 15 cedi (very expensive, considering it only costs 80 pesos- about 75 cents).]

Now though, it seems I’ve slipped into the slowness and the relaxed way of life with ease. Denise is having some difficulty adjusting, but I find it refreshing to be disconnected from the obsession with time. Here, you can just breathe, take it all in, and let your mind wander.

The days are slow and the heat is strong. We get up at 5:30am with the goats and roosters, get our buckets from the well to shower, and after bathing, Sema makes breakfast—eggs and sometimes eggs with porridge. We finish breakfast by 6:45 and the kids come to say good morning. They go to school at 8, leaving the family compound very quiet and still, with only the chickens and goats to disrupt the peace. We do some planning for our projects and help around the house. Today we helped carry buckets from the well and helped Sema and Beatrice pound some yams and plantains for our fu-fu lunch. The heat and carb-rich food force you to consider a nap. Afterwards you may have an hour or so before the children arrive, home from school. [That is, if they go to school. Grace and Kosi are home today, I’m not sure why. Grace has only been to school 2 days this week- Monday and Thursday. Tuesday was a holiday, but she was needed on the farm on Wednesday.] The afternoons are spent planning the school presentations and mapping out training sessions. Dinner is given around 6:30, after which the children crawl back under our curtain to play, making subsequent work more difficult. By 9pm I try to relax, and read, stretched out under my net before falling asleep to the sound of nature outside my window, i.e. the bleating of our goats.