Market Day

We woke up at 6am and had cocoa soup for breakfast: a semi-thick, light brown soup with a hint of cocoa and a hint of pepper. It’s slightly textured but after adding a couple sugar cubes, it’s like melted African cocoa puffs. I really was starting to worry about Samantha—she wasn’t sleeping at night because it was too hot, and she had lost her appetite. She had a bewildered look on her face and had lost her bubbly spirit. We got ready to go to Ho. Sema couldn’t come because she had to harvest crops on the farm, so Emil insisted he accompany us to Ho. I tried to tell him we would be ok on our own, since I knew he would probably be bored since we wanted to look at fabric and beads, and have lunch at White House, but he persisted. The three of us embarked on a very bumpy and overcrowded bus ride to Ho. We had a long walk to the BRIDGE Office, where we briefly greeted Bismark and then tried to use the internet on the few computers in the room. Emil sat patiently, walked around outside, came back again, and waited while we fought with the internet. At first, the speed was decent; I was able to check both my email accounts, and send a couple emails. However, quickly I started to have problems. The internet slowed to an incredible crawl, and the only computer that recognized my USB drive (which had these blog entries on it) was broken and would not start. I used Bismark’s laptop to email the file to myself, but then could not get the internet to work any further. At this point, we had been at BRIDGE for almost 2 hours dealing with computer antics. Finally, I gave up and walked downstairs to the internet café I used to use last time I was here. I found new computers and fast internet—7 minutes and 20 peswas later, I had uploaded the entire thing. From now on, I’m not going to bother with the free internet at BRIDGE. It’s just not worth the trouble! As we were leaving, Joy caught us by the side of the road and we made tentative plans to go to that “Meet Me There” place next weekend. Seeing him just for a minute was refreshing—he seems to be the only person who understands where Americans are coming from, especially those of us in our 20s.

From there we walked to the nearby bank to exchange some money. Walking in was like walking back into the real world—air conditioning, people dressed in suits, and BBC News on the television. Despite my earlier invitation for Emil to join us for lunch, he had eaten while we were at BRIDGE, so he headed off to a bar while Samantha and I ate lunch in the shade at White House. Emil didn’t seem bothered that we took forever with everything, and said he was just fine waiting at the bar. He was more cheery after he met us again, too. At White House, Samantha and I each had a small vegetable pizza (they improved their recipe by adding cheese, and omitting canned carrots), one small order of potato chips (French fries!), one cold coke, and one cold orange fanta. Samantha seemed much better- more talkative, and she ate everything! It was a very good sign. J Samantha said she started feeling better just being out of the village, and walking around; Emil walks much faster than the average Ghanaian and by the end of the day we must have easily speed walked 3 miles. He also is partial to short-cuts through Ho, during which he would proudly exclaim that “Kevin can walk from Ho to Saviefe.” He took us, quickly, through back alleys behind homes, through the littered streets, and stepping over obstacles of rocks and stones through a teal-green stream of trash and sewage. I tried not to breathe, because even if I breathed through my mouth I thought I might throw up. Garbage littered the ground everywhere in Ho, but I was sure we were trudging through the worst of it… in flip flops. Gross. Finally, we made it to the market place. We bought a table fan (for 32 cedis—expensive!) to help break up the stiff heat so Samantha might sleep at night. It’s a very nice fan and is currently pleasantly blowing cool air on my face as I type this. We went into the market and picked up a handkerchief for Samantha as well (it’s for dancing and waving it around and also doubles as a sweat rag). We also bought toilet paper—an essential, obviously. We attempted to look at fabric and beads but though he made an effort, Emil is no Sema. We’ll get fabric and beads next week with Sema. We headed back to the tro-tros and I picked up 2 pouches of cold pure water on the way. Suddenly I felt someone grab my arm quite hard, almost hitting me, and demanded, “yavoo, give me one!” I had briefly forgotten the torment of being a yavoo.

We climbed inside the tro-tro and the taunting didn’t stop. A young woman sitting behind me, probably about my age, kept trying to talk to me. The thing is, she was eating a piece of corn on the cob (which is very mealy) and spitting at me while she spoke. Several of her chewed pieces ended up on my arm and shoulder. She didn’t know enough English to ask what she wanted, but she was talking about me very loudly for a while. I kept hearing “obruni” and “yavoo,” interchangeable phrases for “white.” When I turned to give her any response, she would just laugh at me—and not in a “laughing with you” kind of way. Of course, it stopped after a while, and if Emil asked me a question about the U.S., I could feel her move inappropriately closer to my face to hear what I was saying. Sure, now you’re interested in me as a person… ugh. I was sweaty and exhausted by the time we reached Saviefe. Samantha and I took a very quick nap with the help of our new fan.

Mama brought by plain spaghetti (very early, at 4:30pm) with the tuna red sauce that we’ve had several times. I think the tuna is what’s making Samantha’s stomach upset. It was a clue when walking through the market we both fought back vomit reflexes at the sight and smell of barrels of dried fish. I really can’t explain that stench, but I’ll just leave it at “assaulting.” We ate the plain spaghetti, and then ventured over to Mama’s house to sit in her compound while she made supper for her children. There was a pleasant breeze accessible by her home, but the breeze is clearly blocked somehow in our compound. Mama’s aunt sat nearby, who had suffered a stroke some 20 years ago. Her brother is deaf and also came by to greet us. It was interesting watching him interact with everyone. He used subtle movements to express himself, and there was an understanding between him and Mama and her children to understand his movements. It was not the official ASL (American Sign Language) that most of us have seen. There was an abundance of goats and chickens and baby chicks running around. Mama’s children enjoyed our presence. Michael (5) would hide and pop out with a shy smile, and then would make faces waiting for me to imitate him, which I did. Maufuaemo (4) is his younger sister who would sneak up quietly to my side and just slip her tiny hands within mine and smile the biggest smile I’ve seen a child display here—I could see almost all of her little teeth. I watched Mama’s brother (she didn’t tell us his name) bathe Maufuaemo at the edge of the compound, which was much more efficient than Maufuaemo trying to do it herself.

We left Mama to head back home and sat for a short while with the mother in our compound, also named Maufuaemo who looks not older than 23 but I think she must be in her late 20s since her daughter Sarah is 13. Sarah, Kofi, and Fafali were eating akple with their mother. Akple is very similar to banku and fufu, but the dough just sits like mashed potatoes in a dish rather than being rounded into a dough-mound. I’m sure there are other differences but I’m not sure what they are. We sat on our steps for a while that night, taking in the cool air. There were several nice breezes, and some heat lightening, but it was overcast so we only saw a quick flash of glow in the sky. Tonight, we will sleep with our new fan oscillating its fine self all over our room.