Fanfare for Literacy

Theses are pictures of us getting the library in order.  As you can see the carpenters are all finished with the interior.  The other pictures are us at various stages of the cataloguing process.  There are about 6 or 7 steps to our cataloguing process. 

 We start by assigning the book a ca

ll number that is very roughly based on the Dewey Decimal System....I'm ashamed to say I was having a lot of trouble figuring out the decimal part of that equation.  Then we entered the information into an electronic catalogue on the computer and created a catalogue card for the physical catalogue in pencil (that's one up there).  Then someone edits the card for mistakes and inks it.  When this is finished, we tape the edges of the paper back books in order to give them some added protection over the years and tape over the call number too.  The last step, and by far my favourite of all the library jobs here or in Ottawa is to take our fancy-pants-rubber-stamps we had made and to stamp the 

first page of the books and the three sides.  I think that's most of the steps...I tip my hat again to all my librarians over the years and the people at Jean-Leon Allie Library for showing me all this.  I hope the Saint Paul people in particular are not aghast at 

my irreverant trouncing on all that is Library of Congress.  

Eventually our set up was ready for the big day.

The big day involved a lot of speeches and participation from everyone is small ways.  Anyone not making a speech was playing an instrument, singing, dancing, being chiefy, doing a cultural performance or working behind the scenes.  There was a lot of cheering, celebrating, processing and even a ribbon cutting.  It was so cool to see all the kids getting excited about the books in the library.  It was definitely a community event....which is everything it should have been.

You may see from some of these pictures that Conor and I are hanging out with the chiefs when we're processing.  As I mentioned in my last post, the community was moving to quasi enstool me this week.  Despite some hitches that went on through the day, I am not enstooled but I am marked as a chief and will be enstooled formally next year (please see last post).  

Making me chief involved having a group of people come over to the house (only certain people are allowed to participate but I knew them almost all of them...most of them are really good friends in fact).  The ones I know least are actually the chiefs themselves.  They all came in and with them came a bottle of something they called Schnapps.

They sat down and explained some things then went outside to pour some of the Schnapps outside on the ground as an offering and prayed for me.  When they came back in they gave me a sizable dose of it to drink.  Not really being allowed to go outside, I settled for pouring some on the carpet, also in prayer.  I figured it was at least 40% and something akin to gin...so it should evaporate quickly.  I then drank the firewater down.  They put beads on me and and smeared my arms with white chalk.  Then more Torgbe's came in and gave me another round of Schnapps where we poured more poured more libations and drank more.  There was more chalk on my arms.  They sent for beer and then sat down to explain some things to me.  This is where my memory starts to fade a touch.

Apparently part of becoming chief is getting you very drunk....I don't think it actually is, but that's what the aforementioned Schnapps does.  I don't know what this Schnapps is but it must be higher than 40% because it kicked our asses.  The only time I was ever this drunk....It was 7 0r 8 shots of Tequila in a drinking game that involved episodes of Firefly (For those of you who are familiar with Firefly/Serenity, the one of the game's major premises was that everytime they spoke Chinese, you took a drink)  All I know is that it is imported from Holland and that the box cannot/will not give us a percentage.  To give you some perspective of how the night ended, one of these pictures, Conor took from her position on the floor.  

Luckily, this didn't happen until after they all left for the night, but it was starting around the time they sat down and started going over duties and do's and don'ts.  I'm not allowed to walk outside barefoot (I know some people who are gonna LOVE that...) and something about not dancing in public (which is tossed aside completely on the occasions where the chiefs tell us to dance....there are pictures of that at the inauguration too).  The next morning, Torgbes returned and took me out of the house (I wasn't allowed to leave since the ceremony the night before) and while they couldn't present me, they had me walk in the procession for the Library inauguration so that everyone would know, without them making a procession for that occasion in itself.  They dressed us in some beautiful kente cloth (that's what you see us wearing in all the procession pictures.

I feel like I really can't do justice to everything that happened the last few days...especially when it comes to the traditions and the enstoolment...  There are tons of pictures of everything from our whole trip that we're going to put online when we get home....but we managed a bunch for today.  

This library has been an amazing amount of work but the community always amazes me with he amount of effort they are willing to put in not just to build the place but also to make it really special for their community.  I'm also touched by the effort that people make everyday to make us feel part of their community: whether its teaching us a little more Ewe or giving us a pineapple (or making me a chief) or telling us to bring our families down.

The library project is not over...it will never really be over.  We have some few odds and ends to tie up here but even after that , there will always be new books, new ideas, new technology and new resources for this community.  It will definitely never be over.

We're looking at less than two weeks until we get home now...Not much time left to enjoy village life.

Thank you again to EVERYONE who helped make this project amazing!!!  

Love,

The Jessicat

News of All Types

Firstly, I would like to share some sad news. Torgbe Kotoko, one of Nyive's chiefs has just past away this week. He's been sick for a very long time. Not totally unexpected, it still took everyone as a surprise. No one really expected him to go so soon. I guess he's been a part of the community a very long time. He's very well loved and the entire village is upset by their loss. I think people are also upset he isn't around to see the library now that its finally finishing up.

The inauguration of the library is still on Wednesday and we've confirmed the attendance of lots of dignitaries and the whole community. This means that we've spent the last few days, and probably all night tonight binding, cataloguing, stamping and shelving books. Its the Jean-Leon Allie Library all over again...ecept now I'm teaching everyone what to do. I keep asking myself "What would Desneiges do?"

For those of you who have been paying attention, you may ask about that missing day. The one where we're pulling a late nighter tonight instead of cataloguing tomorrow.That's because tomorrow, Tuesday, we're not allowed to work. At least I'm not. Tuesday I will be confined to the house. This is due to some really cool news which I've neglected to share up until now and some complications following it (one of the reasons I haven't mentioned it yet).

The piece of really cool news, the chiefs want/started planning to enstool me as a Queen Mother (Female Chief) partially for the work I've done and partially for the work they want me to continue in the future. They have lots of different chiefs for lots of different purposes, mine has to do with helping in the development of the community and being an elder for the youth (in Nyive, I think "youth" is anyone under 50). They tell me its because I'm interested and value their arts, crafts and industries. This paragraph really isn't doing justice to anything that's been happening the last few weeks. The complication I mentioned is that since Torgbe Kotoko died, there is a kink in everyone's plans for me. Its traditional not to enstool any chiefs between the time someone dies and they are buried. In Ghana, this is at least a month, especially for a chief. Funerals here are very costly and involve a big party with a lot of planning. We're very sad that we're going to miss it. This also means that they can't really enstool me.

Enstooling usually has two parts: an indoor part that is sort of private I guess and an outdoor part where they present someone to the community. Babies are also outdoored a few days after they are born for the same reasons. To have a big party would be disrespectful to Torgbe Kotoko since everyone is supposed to be in mourning but the chiefs are determined to do something. So what will happen is that there will be the indooring and then they want me to come back and have the outdooring in about a year. The indooring will involve some rituals done around 6 am and then they lock me in the house the whole day. Then they will come get me the next day (Wednesday) and will spend the day sort of treating me like a chief so everyone will know without it being announced. The special treatment is just in time for a big pubic occasion that has nothing to do with enstooling so it seems to work out perfectly for everyone. Pretty cool, eh? I'm really honoured because its really putting forward that they want me to stay a part of the community and involved in the affairs here.

Since I'm catching a cold, I think staying indoors all day (and SLEEPING) sounds like a fantastic idea. Conor and I were up at 5 am this morning singing "I just want to be a sheep"...I'm goofy when I'm sick.

Anyhow, its gonna be a big couple of days.

Ciao for now,
-The Jessicat

To All Who Made Me a Book Worm

Firstly, I want to put forth a special thank you to all the librarians and library technicians I've gotten to know over the years. I would be absolutely useless here without everything they taught me. I'm not in contact with most of them and many of them probably don't remember me (it all started with elementary school) but man have I learned a lot. My thanks especially to Mrs. Allen-Cofell (St. Mary/St. Anne's) Mrs. Goldhawk and Mrs. Woods at UCC (These people are all still in the Chatham-Kent area I think) And EVERYONE who works at the Jean-Leon Allie Library at St. Paul University (especially Desneiges). If anyone sees these people around, feel free to let them know I hold them partially responsible for the presence of a library in rural Ghana, in a village that knows no map. A library which is going to be officially opened this Wednesday!

The construction finishes today and the cataloguing operation (which Conor and I have been running out of our front room will be moved to the library tomorrow. We've been cataloguing mountains of books and we've only just touched the surface, from the sounds of it. We've been creating a catalogue, barcoding all the books and stamping them and everything I was doing at home for the Saint Paul Library. Given the lack of a Staples or similar stationary depot, this process, like the carpentry, takes longer because everything has to be done by hand. Rather than printing stickers and sticking them on the book, we have to cut out the sticker, create the non sticky sticker, write on it by hand and then tape it on the book. Thanks to the People's Republic of China, there is no shortage of affordable tape (though no stickers).

Luckily there are a lot of people who want to help out. This weekend is going to be a mad blur of readying books that will make me never want to enter a library again. Popular opinion feels that it will be worth it.

I will let you all know how it goes.

-The Jessicat

Week of Suck

So this week has been officially deemed the week of suck.

You may know that the library is scheduled to have its big opening ceremony on the 29th. Aside from all the things that must be done for the library to be complete, there is a lot of planning that has to go into the actual opening ceremony. This seems to be a big and consistent pain in the ass that is a culturally accepted norm. Everything has to be planned, everything has to have a structure, letters of invitation have to be given out, with special roles given to all the special people that you want to invite and everyone has to have their say, whether or not they are really involved and whether or not they are around (or say in the next country over this week). This isn't really all that different from anything in Canada except for three things: 1) Time-they decided they wanted this whole thing to happen before school lets out (the 30th) and only mentioned it about a week ago, 2) There is a certain way to do everything so that it seems very professional and special and we're not really in on it, so its a learning experience for us. 3) EVERYTHING must be done by consensus-this is difficult enough under the best conditions but when everyone is so busy with their own livelhoods and are too poor to come to the meetings...but will be upset if anything is done without you, or if you're in Togo/Accra/anywhere not Nyive and out of service for two weeks and will be upset if something is done without your input.....ITS A PAIN IN THE ASS!!

It is such a pain in the ass that dictatorships have suddenly started making a lot of sense to me.

Either way though, everything is getting done (slowly but definitely surely) and everyone is doing their best to make it a real awesome affair. It sounds like Conor is gonna have to get all Mama'ed up for the occasion too. This community is really proud of what it has accomplished and they are inviting all the top cats to come see it including the heads of the local library board and the MP. I thought they should go all the way and send a note to Obama and Atta Mills, but the schedules didn't really coordinate.

This also means that the library is mere days away from completion. Even our books are being catalogued. This is all good news! So why is it the week of suck?

1) My intestines have betrayed me....again. I noticed they get a lot better when I travel. I've concluded that this is either because the food does not require chewing in the villages (teeth are downright vestigial traits in this area) or because teh conditions are more sanitary in restaurants that we have to eat in when we travel. One of our guides suggested not to worry to much unless there was blood, black fluid or somethign greasy involved. Since it wasn't, I decided to tough it out this time. What a mistake that was. I am currently popping Cipro like I'm doing a Keith Richards imitation and its all better.

2) My estrogen went and while it doesn't betray me, my period is not always a welcome addition to daily life. Cramps suck. They suck so bad that they encumbered my gettign to Ho today. Long story. There was a bus and some fainting and bananas and Fanta.

3) I fucked up the library's printer. That's not entirely true....the driver doesn't want to recognise it. I suspect that this is because people wanted me to try the wrong software and see if ti would work. It didn't...and now that we have a copy of the right software, but it still doesn't. I think I can fix it, but it is really difficult to explain especially when I only arely understand how it works myself. I wish I were more tech savvy.

4) BUGS. Really big Bugs. I know gigantic bugs are sort of an African stereotype....but this one is steeped in liquid truth.

5) Got invited to a Pentecostal Assemblies of God Church. Really hoped this was gonna be better than it was. It was a great community, very friendly and welcoming...great in many ways. Not in others. The theologian in me is still twitching. There's a chance I would feel like this at the Catholic Church sometimes too, but everything is in Ewe so I can't understand. Most of my problems are not culturally related though...they are the same things that make me twitch in Canada too. Lets just say that churches who preach that Jesus will make you rich or the ones that come with coin-operated salvation are popular here. I feel like trial and error will weed out the prosperity gospel churches over time (I have heard of no great money-manna-fest yet, here or in Canada), as for the auto-salvation, I let you fight that one out for yourself. There is no way to explain certain subjects adequately on a blog. I miss the Byzantines.

6) Haven't been eating properly this week....this contributed to the bus thing too. Long story. With this I will couple that there exists no dairy food group in Ghana and I think I'm really low on Iron.

7) Other- There have been a lot of minor coinciental things to happen that just added to everything. An example was a teen story about AIDS which was kinda cool in some ways, kind of not in others. The not so cool part of the story is where thedoctor is trying to determine whether he shoud test for HIV and asks the man a series of questions...where he wasn't concerned that he might be having sex with women, only anal sex with women. I find this particular and confisuing detail in the book. The anal sex thing came out a lot actually. STRANGE book. Just another example of men getting off the hook for havinglots of "normal" sex with lots of women? I don't know.

Anyhow, lots is getting done with the library and my Keith Richards attitude on cipro seems to be working so lets hope for a better week!

-the Jessicat

Still on Top

So now that I have all the major news out of the way....I thought that I'd add/update some more lists.

In honour of last weekend, the first list is the Top list of Obama Paraphanalia in Ghana. Some of this was official swag that the government had a hand in convincing people to sell, others were things people had designed and still others were normal everyday items that were either given the name "Obama ---" or they silkscreened/embroidered "Barack Obama" on it somewhere.

1) Obama Panties--These were a pair of cute flowery victorian panties with "Barack Obama" silk screened on the ass. I bought a pair for Conor. ^^

2) Child's Denim Obama Pant+Jacket Outfit--A little kid was wearing this around the Nyive trotro station in Ho.

3) Obama Wax Print-Obama's face on some wax print/batik like cloth....they do this a lot with many people's faces...most commonly (that I've seen) for people's ordinations or the arrival of a new bishop. They will have decorative cloth made out of the faces of all the bishops of the Ho diocese that ever lived. I find it weird and usually tacky, but next to the panties, this is one of my favourites. I have never, unfortunately, seen ordination panties. Many people had had formal dresses and collard shirts made out of it for the occasion.

4) Obama T-shirts-these all have Obama with one or more of the following: Pres Atta Mills, The Word Ghana, A picture of Africa sith Ghana coloured in, Ghanaian independence monument and/or Ghanaian or American flags.

5) Obama Hotel (Hotel in Accra...I suspect that the biblical shop name trend may be coming to a close while Obama remains popular.)

6) Obama 5-minute-hawker-name-bracelet-these are a little nifty, but the aggressive pestering of the hawkers decreases what little interest their products might give.

7) Obama billboards- these litter Accra and CapeCoast...sometimes sponsored by the government or large businesses like MTN

8) Obama American Flag

9) Obama Picture Frames

10) Obama Meat Pies-people wandered around the compound while we were waiting selling meat pies off their heads yelling "Obama Meat Pies". This was not limited to meat pies but was quickly taken up by all the head food sellers. "Obama Yogourt! Obama Chocolate! Obama Spring Roll! Obama Fanta! Obama Bo Froot!"

11) Obama buttons-pins with pictures of him (and maybe his family)


------------------------

The next list is an add on to my previous list of favourite signs. We always pick out more when we travel.

1) Evergreen Haircut
2) Still, You can Fly One Day Too
3) Trust Nobody Footwear
4) Welcome to Boy's and Girl's Lovers (I don't know what this place was....but it was a small booth that looked like a chop bar or a place to buy tools. (A chop bar is a place to buy food))
5) Perserverance Washing Bay
6) Hilarious Services
7) XXX Engineers (this apparently doesn't mean the same thing in Ghana)
8) Jama Maternity Clinic, Delivery Day and Night
9) Virgin Kids and Junior Secondary School (Your guess is as good as mine)

This is it for now!

Ciao,
-the Jessicat

Chasing the Wild Obama-llama

So, like a few weeks ago when we went to see Accra to chase down the Stanley Cup, Conor and I took off last week in another mad dash for another Canadian pastime.....going to see Obama.

Conor and I, with our friend Portia, took off to Cape Coast to see the man himself as he stopped through the town, on a historic journey to Cape Coast Castle (which was the Costco of human trafficking in the day). The town was full of Yovus like us (or Obruni, outside of Ewe Land) though we couldn't find any Americans....mostly people from Germany, Great Britain and Canada. Still, lots of tourists....and lots of Ghanains (mostly Coastians) all excited to see Obama.

The next highest population consisted of imported police and military types from both countries. Have I mentioned the really big guns the police carry around on a normal day at a teeny little outpost/roadblock on the dirt road to the outlying villages like Nyive? Well, it seems they upgraded for the occasion....or maybe there was just lots of them, I dunno which.

As the hour of his arrival rolled closer (give or take 5 hours on the proposed itinerary) we gave up all belief that we were going to even make it to the road where he was supposed to pass by. It was right outside our hotel room, but we'd been yelled at by men in camouflage toting weapons as tall as I was, just trying to get into the place. We were resigned to not being allowed back out. Luckily, the hotel had an upstairs outdoor bar...where we had a great view of the road, from the shade, with a chair, all on our own and with the ability to order drinks. We stayed there for a few hours, watching security people drive by. Once we saw the strange sight of a hawker being chased by a policeman with a 2x4. Eventually two military types wandered over to the hotel and made the staff kick us out from the upstairs. As we came down, with no where to go, they told us to go across the road. We looked skeptically across the field with trolling security that seemed to be sweating ammunition. They told us to go and eventually gave us a police escort to the crowd on the other end of the street (no one was allowed on our side).

We joined the crowd, found a random rock to stand on and settled in for the wait. In the military's haste to kick us out, I didn't have time to retrieve sunscreen from our room (and Obama was supposed to be there any minute/3 hours ago) and seeing that he was very late, I got a terrible blistering sunburn on my nose and face...curse my red headed complexion without the saucy ginger hair itself. Just as we got there, the soldiers tried to herd the whole crowd into a narrower and narrower space. No one liked this, but we clung to our rock and were unaffected.

Eventually he came, drove by, shook hands with the chiefs of Cape Coast. Portia saw him but leaping locals and people swarming the soldier ridden balcony above us, despite the soldiers, and clung to the very wall itself to get a view, made it a little difficult for us to see. I held my camera up and blindly took picture after picture. Eventually he got back in the care and drove the next 300m to the castle itself for a tour with his family. Disapointed we had only seen the bumper of his motorcade, Conor and I were resigned that that was probably it. Just as we were debating whether to leave or wait for everyone to disperse a bit, as thy were doing, riot police came and ushered everyone back from the forward area they had been pushed out of initially.

Suddenly, the riot police ran forward, cleaving through the crowd and everyone started running. We clung to the rock for fear of being trampled. Remember that seen from the Lion King with the Wildebeasts and the hyenas? The one where Mufasa dies? That's what we were trying to avoid while perched on our tiny rock. Five feet in front of us, the riot police caught and started to beat the beligerent and suddenly very apologetic man who had started the commotion in the first place (Portia translated that the man had been insulting the cops for telling him what to do).

Once things calmed down, we got off our rock and made to leave. While attempting this, we discovered why the crowd was so slow at dispersing (we thought it was cause they all wanted to see him come back from the castle and drive away). Apparently no one was allowed to leave the conveniently squared off section, the only place anyone was allowed to be, until he had left the city. Any attempts to do otherwise were discouraged by more military types with even more guns. (I should add that I rarely see military/soldier types or large gatherings of armed police except when the American president is in town....my regular life is not nearly so cluttered with weaponry.) So we were stuck....for no one knew how long, in a hoard of hundreds of people with no shade, no shelter and no bathroom....

I would like to add, for President Atta Mills, if he ever reads my blog, that perhaps inserting a huge hoard of people under these conditions for hours in the sun is perhaps counter productive from a security point of view. Luckily there were plenty of people selling food and drinks off there heads, wandering around the small hilled compound. We took the opportunity to sample some of the Ghanaian head food that we were normally too busy to sample. We tried some interesting curried kebabs, bean based springrolls, cookies, and even some old favourites...a little bit of popcorn and something ain to a very large fresh plain timpit called "bo froot". I LOVE bo froot. But no matter how much I love bo froot, Obama was getting to be a pain in the ass. My gluteal muscles the next morning could tell you I mean this literally. I never thought I'd be happy for him to leave the vicinity, given how much I like him.

We also took the opportunity to look at some of the pictures we took. We discovered very happily, that I had managed a lucky shot of Obama waving out the window as he drove by! Very cool random shot....all the pictures I had taken without looking seemed to turn out really well.

Eventually he left, we waved off his motorcade and everyone flooded the streets partying. Lots of happy partying Ghanainas. We made it back to our hotel and through the palm trees we watched the US Marine Copters flying away. That last part was a little surreal and like the closing scene of a Vietnam War flick.

For everyone worried about our frolicking and full body frisking with danger, we're fine...nothing dangerous ever really happened, the police an military did very well, despite our preferences, and from what we could tell only ever acted appropriately.

Either way...we're alive and well. Conor feels like he healed her leprosy.

Ciao for now!
-The Jessicat

Also....Calling all pickles! (WE NEED YOUR HELP!)

(Just a note, this is my second post on the blog today...)

WE NEED YOUR HELP!

The good news is that the library is almost finished! The village is planning to commission it by the end of the month, before school is out.

With its completion on the horizon, Conor and I have been looking into other projects we can start before we leave. One of the needs that has really put itself forward is the need to preserve food.

Nyive is made up of many farming families, who's livelihoods and income mostly derives from the land. Unfortunately, the inability to preserve food causes tremendous loss for the farmers both in food and income. Everything here is sold at its season, there is little or no affordable imports. Because the food is sold at season, everyone in the market sells the exact same thing at the exact same time. This means that no one can ask a good price for their goods, because there are 20 other stalls trying to sell the same thing. No one can sell off season because there is no way to maintain the produce.

There is also a loss to the farmers because if they can't sell their produce fast enough, even at a low price, the food will spoil and they receive nothing. The same happens when they buy food. People can only purchase items in small quantities, every day or risk their food spoiling, and having to spend further money.

Nyive and the rest of Ghana have no real traditional methods of preserving food, because there is no winter season, like in Canada, where NOTHING grows. There is always something to eat because there is always something growing, but it is incredibly difficult to run a business or make a profit in this way.

We are asking you for recipes, ideas, cautions, methods and ideas about how to preserve food. This can be anything from dehydration to jam, to pickles to relishes to fruit leather. We need methods, warnings, dangers, ways to sterilise....lots of things. Don't worry if there is no blackberries in Ghana, send us your blackberry jam recipe anyway, because there may be something that we can glean from it for some blackberry like substance in Ghana. If you have no recipes of your own, email familiy members, ask around your town, contact your local Society for Creative Anachronism chapter, or ask some engineers about dehydraters and pester some Girl Guides about tinfoil solar ovens that you make with a few rocks.

We're looking for anything that we can use that won't involve a factory (though a low tech device that we can McGuyver is helpful). Send us anything....even warnings about which foods we shouldn't try to preserve lest we kill off the entire village through food poisoning. If your area is secretly famous for someting like jam or dried fruit, don't feel shy about doing a little research on some old techniques.

Thank you all so much for your help! We really believe that a little information can go a long way into changing lives.

Love,
The Jessicat

Baby, You're the Tops!

Feeling bad about not keeping up with the signs I meant to post on my blog, Conor and I created a list of our favourites. We also created a list for our top 15 conversations that we have had, or almost had but really don't want to have, with Ghanaians.

Top Favourite Signs (In no particular order)
1) Don't Mind Your Wife Chop Bar
2) CIRCUMSISE! your child here
3) No Weapon Restaurant
4) The Blood of Jesus Tailoring
5) Honorable Waste Management
6) Quebec Enterprises
7) The Young Shall Grow Haircut
8) Powerful Haircut
9) "Bullet/Cobra Power" (Men's health sign advertising some kind of Viagra type thing...with detailed paintings of strong and grinning, flexing naked men and their rigid "cobras")
10) God Will Do Welding
11) Don't Let AIDS "Service" YOU!


Top Conversations That We Discovered we don't Want to Have (but despite our best attempts, often have to) in Ghana. This is again in no particular order.
1) "Why don't you love me?" (self explanatory)
2) "Do you want to marry a Ghanaian?" (This is often trying because the answer is always no...and I only become more resolute about this over time)
3) "White People are ALWAYS great! (and Black people are not/lazy/steal)"...(this one is terrible)
4) "The Bible says...."(you'd think this one wouldn't be so bad for me, but often people come at me with it in an attempt to prove that women are inferior to men.....they picked the wrong person to pull this on. A sentence that starts this way rarely turns into a pleasant conversation, unfortunately.)
5) "Do you want to marry me?" (This can also be issued as a command or a statement that I will marry them or that I already have.)
6) "Do you like dancing/clubbing/alcohol/drinking/sex?"
7) "Homosexuals are....(insert negative, stereotype or statement of non-existence here)"
8) "There is no such thing as male prostitutes! How could it work?!" (This was one of my favourite conversations actually...but I wouldn't have it with most people....this particular instance was with a good friend)
9) "Hey Baby!/Its nice to be nice"
10) "Hello! My name is....will you write me a letter of invitation to you country/home/help me get a visa?"
11) "Yovu! Dash me 10 000! (or any ammount really....10 000 is one current cedi)"
12) "Let you go? Why?" (The earlier mentioned confusion of Papa Oubadouba)
13) You have indigenous people? Are they blacks? They must be whites if they are from Canada."
14) "Someone told me that people from the North Pole would die if you put them in Ghana, because their bodies are different. Is this true?" (apparently Inuit are believed to react like salt water fish chucked into a lake...according to this one person)
15) "Did you buy me bread/What did you bring me?" (This is usually meant in jest, something everyone says to one another....though one man, the one who crashed Conor's motorcycle last time keeps pestering us and we don't know if its a joke...it may be less of a joke where "rich white chicks" are concerned.)

Anyhow...all of these were certainly interesting conversations....I wish there was enough time to describe the results of these conversations....many of them happen multiple times with different people.

Cape Coast and Away

Hello!

Conr and I spent the rest of the week having adventuring in Accra and Cape Coast. Our only complaint about Cape Caost is that the bug population is exponentially higher....and more aggressive...and there was no mosquitoe nets this time. The bites are strange though...small red bumps...not like the usual welts. Conor and I have finally established that I am not immune to being bit by mosquitoes (I have also had bites all over me from this week) I am simply not allergic to them in a way that I don't get itchy. Conor, unfortunately, does not share this trait.

Speaking of Conor...before leaving the Osu area of Accra for something a little less expensive, we came across something that she likes even more than Sidney Crosby and the Senators put together. Apparently she rarely eats Indian food but was entirely supportive of my dashing around Osu trying to find some ethnic food for dinner. As much as I am having trouble with the monotony of Ghanaian food everyday, we can only eat so many french fries and hamburgers before that too is monotonous. We found a small place named Haveli (it was right outside our old hotel, I have no idea how I missed it so many times). We went in and discovered a place entirely unlike anything else we've seen in Ghana. A real restaurant, set to the theme of the food it was serving (lots of Hindu statues and Indian art) inside and being served by a tiny Indian lady (the expats who own establishments in Ghana seem to rarely actually run or work in them). It was so good!!!! And the biggest surprise, it was Kerala food! The woman who runs the restaurant is even Syro Malabar. Conor thought the food was so good....she almost wept at the first bite of naan.



We journeyed the next day to Cape Coast. What a beautiful area! You can see the sea everywhere you go (also, it was nice and warm). Its much smaller than Accra, much friendlier too. It was also much more tourist friendly (without beng like Niagara Falls) and prettier than Ho. The people are somewhat used to tourists and have no shame in trying to make friends so that they can convince us to let them take us on a pricey trip to Kakum. Actually, that wasn't so bad, since its easy to brush off. The men can be divided into about 4 main identifiable categories: a) the ones that didn't bother us, b) HEY BABY men, c) the sexually liberated college male, d) Rastafarian Burkinabes and e) Oubadoubas.

A) The ones that didn't bother us
We don't actually know anything about them...but they are noteworthy, because they didn't bother us. These men exist and we don't give them enough spotlight. Please give a round of applause for men who just don't give a fuck. This category also includes friendly expats and men we meet in the ATM lines. ATM lines are the best place to meet friendly men who want to pass on interesting information (such as the death of Michael Jackson...thats right...we got the news from an ATM line up). Should also note, that women have never bothered us, tried to marry us, shout hey baby, profess enduring and instantaneous love for us and therefore they should get a mention for being awesome too.

B) The HEY BABY! men
We also don't know much about them....this is mostly because we refuse to respond. They are men who scream "HEY BABY!" when we pass...this may be an attempt to hit on us, but is equally likely an attempt to get us to buy things. They also yell "Its nice to be nice!" when we don't talk to them....implying that if I were a good person, I would have to stop and accomodate them. Right.....like that's gonna happen.

C) The sexually liberated college male
Cape Coast is a university town. From this, hordes of educated and horny young men descend on the local touristy night scene. They are friendly, courteous, ask us about school and never ask us to marry them. They also do not proclaim instantaneous love or expect love in return. They do however, try to determine the looseness of our morals by asking us roundabout questions about whether we enjoy drinking/alcohol/dancing/clubbing. Over all, friendly, easy to talk to and not really a threat.

D) The Rastafarian Burkinabe
These are our favourite men that we've encountered (outside our circle of close friends in Nyive). They are friendly Rastafarian artists who all flock to Cape Coast to sell their wares, play music at the local clubs and hotels and occasionally preach the Rasta religion. Almost all of them are from Burkina Faso and they really are great multi talented artists. They make everything from music to jewellery. One of them was a particularly talented musician and had that gift of being able to make up songs out of nothing and play them at the same time. These guys are even easier to talk to than the college guys and mellower about the sex thing. I should at that they are mellower in fron tof me...this could be because they were occasionally stoned when we were chatting with them (this is based on seeing them rolling joints rather than stereotype). Altogether, an awesome group. They don't ask for marriage, love, whether we like sex/boooze/clubbing or anything. Occasionally they mention "The wonderous thing when blacks and obrunis make little mocha babies."

E) Oubadouba
The Oubadouba is an annoying man who believes he is all that, addresses us in commands and has no understanding of why I want him to let go of me. We haven't met many of these over our time here, but we sure encountered one this week. In brief, Conor was buying a shirt and while she was talking to him, a large man grabs a shirt, tosses it at me and exclaims in a boisterous fashion "You! Put this on! I am going to buy it for you!" I told him that was ok, he didn't need to do that. he repeated himslelf and I told him I didn't want him. I ignored him a little while Conor picked out the right size of shirt and he continued trying to find a shirt as if I hadn't said anything. As Conor got up to pay, he sat down grabbed my arm and said "Baby, I LOVE you. I love you so much. Eh? Do you love me?"

"No" I said, thinking that simple would be best.

He thought I didn't understand what he was thinking. In an attenpt to transcend the non-existant language barrier, he repeated himself. "......love you so much, do you loveme? Do you LOVE me?" (Conor adds that my imitation of him is better in person)

Once again, I replied in the negative. Still thinking I don't understand, he tries a different route...persuasion. He asks me why I don't love him. I explain, with a great deal of patience, that I don't know who he is and therefore, cannt love him.

"But I love you! I seen you just now...and I LOOOOOOVE you! I love you, so when I tell you I love you, you should reply back. So, Do you Loooooooooooove me?"

"Nope."

While his thick skull attempts to process this latest flabbergatation....like Windows ME trying to process, well, anything, I notice Conor is ready to leave and I get up to exit the stall with her. Unfortunately, Oubadouba can sort of multitask....and when I say multitask, I mean he can just forget about what I said in order to take on other annoying ( but to him important) tasks (again, Windows ME). He reaches out and grabs my arm...and won't let go. Everyone here can both guess my reaction and admire my restraint when I assure you that his face cartilage is still intact...and still looking like a goats ass.

I explain very calmly that he should let go. He tell me to sit down. I say let go, he says we're not done. I say let go and Conor yells at him. He lets go, my skunk like three warning reflexes are not activated and the base of my palm does not threaten to push through his crania.

The world is fine. Until we go for dinner. He shows up at the same bloody restaurant. (Not a surpise...there aren't exactly many of them....but still. He comes up to us and wants to interact with me once more. He detects my coldness and mistakes it for, I kid you not, my not remembering him. He finds this tragic but is obviously willing to forgive as he booms out "You don't remember me! I am Papa Marcus! (or Papa Oubadouba as we have come to call him) Come! I will buy you a drink!" I point out that I really don't want his drink. He continues to remind me that we met earlier. I point out that we don't want to remember him. He finally goes away. I was a little worried that he would get unpleasant if things weren't going this way, but eventually he got distracted...either other women or a shiny object...we didn't check.

(For info about our awesome trip to Cape Coast Castle, please see Conor's blog...there is never enough time to write while we are here.)

So the conclusion for the trip....my daughters are going in to Martial Arts from the day they can walk and our favourite things about Ghana are a prime South Indian Restaurant and Burkinabe Rastas who dress like Jamaicans. I can't tell if this is sad or just one of the tentative joys of globalization.

Ciao for now!
-The Jessicat