Tis the season--even in 90 degree weather...

A little late on the post, I know, being that Thanksgiving was about a week ago, but some thoughts just struck me.

As has apparently become expected tradition, all the Peace Corps volunteers in Ghana were invited to the Ambassador’s luscious house in Accra to celebrate the most American of holidays.  And so, missing our turkey, mashed potatoes, and pies of the sweet kind (not to mention free booze and the lure of a swimming pool) about 120+ travel raggedy volunteers descended on the carefully guarded premises for an afternoon.  The perpetually warm weather, the enthusiasm for which the swimming pool was sought, the many glasses of wine poured in merriment, and many ladies’ new Ghanaian-made warm weather dresses made the gathering easily mistaken for a beach party.  We swam, drank to our hearts’ content, chatted with new volunteers we hadn’t met, caught up with some we hadn’t seen since training, the Ambassador proudly paraded his new 8 week old son, and we all eagerly awaited the time we could stuff our faces with some old fashioned soul food. 

As part of the Thanksgiving experience, the Ambassador’s people (and Peace Corps’ people too) made it possible for about half of the volunteers expected to be hosted by local ex-pat families (just in case someone doesn’t know what that is: ex-pat refers to families or individuals living in a foreign country for a temporary but extended period of time working for their own government.  Like “immigrant” but richer and not for permanent residence).   My friend Francesca and I were lucky to be housed with a woman named Lisa, who works for USAID in Ghana (and served in Peace Corps in the 80s), and her two teenage sons.  Ex-pat families tend to live pretty high on the hog, especially if they’re working in developing countries, because they earn American salaries and live in countries with lower cost of living.  Often the working for the embassy or foreign service means you are provided with a furnished house and, as part of a larger ex-pat community, able to get American products sent over pretty regularly.  Many employ a local housekeeper.  Some have swimming pools.  There is a water heater, air conditioning, internet, clothes washing machines, and dish washing machines. This allows many people who spend most of their careers abroad to maintain a very American household.  Having spent most of their lives outside of America, Lisa’s two boys are every bit as American in behavior as you’d expect.  They attend school with other ex-pat kids, fight their mom over the amount of time spent on the internet and World of Warcraft, love TV shows like Battlestar Galactica and Heroes, and they’ve read the entire Harry Potter series.

This lifestyle, of course, does not belong to American ex-pat families alone.  It is very obvious once one has been in Ghana a short while how different life can be between those that live in the northern regions and those that live in the south, particularly Accra.  Like any big city, Accra has is ghettoes, its poorer places, the people without much to their name that come to the city to seek a better life, and it also has those that do live well, those who can afford and strive to live “modern.”  I’m not just talking in material objects, but mindsets, education opportunities, ideas, and exposures are more modern/enlightened/Western (choose your favorite word—of course that’s not to say that these words mean the same thing; what is “enlightened” is not always “modern” or “Western”).  Politics in the last 50 years is mostly responsible for this enormous gap in current development situations.  It also casts a pretty rigid dye for the stereotypes of “village” and “modern” in Ghana.  Anyone from the north, or those living in the north are all villagers and know nothing but farming, or so those in the south are given to thinking.  Their logic goes something like this:  Villagers are mostly farmers, and because they are farmers they don’t value education for themselves or their children.  Because they have no education they are ignorant/stupid.  Also, they don’t know how to spend their money.  They will tell you they can’t afford to send their children to school, but if there’s a funeral to conduct, somehow they find the money for large expensive livestock.  This thinking is a problem in Damanko, and many rural places in Ghana, because the government stations people from the southern provinces in the rural areas to work in civil services.  They are teachers, clinic staff, police officers.  This is part of the government’s plan for development in rural areas.  Theoretically, if people from the more developed areas are brought to the less developed areas, specifically in jobs crucial to development, that will help, right?  Well, to a certain extent, but pretty much all of them buy into this villager = stupid mentality.  Most are not blatant about it and still perform their jobs as expected, but their motivations in performing these services begin to slip.  It’s going to be a challenge teaching or reminding people, that even these uneducated people have some worthy contribution to make and that opportunities offered to people in life are different for everyone.  Not everyone here is uneducated, is a farmer, etc etc.  There is diversity, even here!!

But anyway, my rant over, I’ll return to Accra.  Thanksgiving dinner was great, and I stuffed myself as required by every Thanksgiving—tryptophan effects and all.  The next day, most of us went to The Mall (gasp!) to see Harry Potter 7 P1 and I reminded a few of us that we got to be IN a mall and miss all the Black Friday craziness.  Accra’s mall (complete with Apple Store) has two big stores (plus many others)—a grocery store and a Target-like store.  In the Target-like store, I wandered through and found myself chuckling at the commercialized Christmas decorations, trying to imagine their presence in Damanko: the lights adorning a thatch roof, tinsel and ornaments hanging from Kwesi’s moringa tree, garlands strewn about being nibbled on by goats….  It did offer a pretty unbelievable picture in my mind’s eye.  Looking at them, they just felt so…..pointless.

The grocery store was fun too.  It offered many imports and included a deli, fish counter, and lots of cheese.  It was a scene familiar to me, but I did entertain myself by imagining Joseph, my 15 year old friend who’s rarely been out of Damanko, in a store such as this.  It’s common in Ghana for people to ask for small gifts when friends or family are traveling.  If I got something for everyone who asked, I’d use up my paycheck every month, so most people don’t take it seriously, yet I always take a few special people some gifts.  Since I was in this very American-like grocery store, I looked for something I knew would probably not reach outside of Accra.  Several people received pears when I got back.  I was happy to find them, to eat one for myself, and to present even a couple of my more educated and worldly friends with something they hadn’t seen or tried before.  “It is sweet, oh.  I like it.”  Maybe someday I’ll do a post just on the Ghanaian use of the word “sweet.”

So all in all, Thanksgiving was a blast, and it gave me a chance to ruminate on some things, like my fluctuating definition of “luxury.”  If you ever want to enjoy something 100 times more than you do currently, just deprive yourself of it for a while.  I have become used to bucket baths and don’t mind them so much.  Of course that doesn’t mean I didn’t nearly weep for joy during the first hot shower I took at Lisa’s.  Yes, they feel good when you have one everyday, but they feel 100 TIMES BETTER when you haven’t had one for six months.  Francesca and I slept in an air conditioned room on beds with sheets and duvets, we ate homemade pizza and pancakes (not at the same time), washed our clothes in a washing machine, and stretched out on real sofas.  Life feels so much more satisfying when even the little things become so pleasurable you can’t stand it.  I don’t feel deprived when I’m at site.  I don’t sit around and think “Damn, I’d do anything for a _____ right now.”  Well, at least not always.  Having some of those things just wouldn’t feel right out here.   They just don’t fit in with life as it’s lived here.  That said, when I get back, I’m going to get a whole lot more out of that hot shower than you will.  I am thankful for the chance to rediscover how wonderful even some minor things can be.