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Published: November 12th 2007
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On Saturday I went to the outskirts of Adenta, about a 45 minute tro-tro ride from campus, to visit one of the ladies from the day-care. It was her birthday so I brought her a bag of random candies I bought for a few cents each on the way out, and a box of juice-- a tacky gift by U.S. standards but perfectly appropriate here (I think...)
I had to take a taxi from the Adenta "Last Stop" Station along a bumpy dirt road, farther and farther away from town, which qualified as "the Bush", and was met by my friend Mavis waving excitedly and shouting "You are welcome!" The house was bigger than I expected-- made of concrete and mud, with couches and a TV in the living room! Her mother was boiling a pot on a fire outside, under a thatched roof porch, but offered me her right elbow as a greeting. The father gave me water and told me to drink it before he could greet me, as is custom. I awkwardly drank in silence while we watched a Spanish soap opera dubbed in English. When I finished, he then introduced himself as "Uncle Peter". "You are
now part of our family," he said. "Our home is your home, and you don't have to miss your family because we are here. You will come and stay with us whenever you want." In the conversation that followed, he mentioned his philosophy that once two people from different cultures sit around with each other, their differences wash away and they see that they are really the same...
I watched as Mavis and her cousin prepared our dinner of fufu, which is made by smashing boiled cassava and plantains with a giant wooden pole until it becomes gooey. You don't chew it, but just dip it in soup and swallow it (very efficient, eh? gets the job done fast). They put two giant blobs on a plate-- such a large serving I thought it must be for Uncle Peter-- and set it in front of me. The mother brought me a bowl of Light soup with chunks of goat meat floating on top and a bottle of Malta (which tastes like moldy bread ground up into a liquid). "You will eat it all."
I then realized that there comes a point when the wonder and excitement about being
in Africa really just turns into projectile vomiting.
But I made a serious effort to appreciate this incredible situation. I mean, it would be great if I could learn to genuinely love Ghanaian food, especially since I will be here a year, and food is kind of a big part of living. But I'm pretty sure it's better to start small, and not under so much pressure. The family stared at me with anticipation (I was the only one eating, which I don't think is necessarily custom, but i sensed they took joy in awkward moments such as this) and I tried to eat with a smile.
Needless to say, I have never been so full, in a bad way. I did the best I could, except for the meat-- there were baby goats literally five feet away playing with each other, butting the mama goat with their horns! i couldn't do it! But they told me I had "done well" and cleared my not-so-empty plates with no questions asked.
The older brother suddenly came up the path to meet me. The dad introduced him as Elvis, and said he had run from church because he wanted to meet me "at all costs."
Uh oh, here comes my daily marriage proposal, I thought. After getting my phone and room numbers (which I never give out, but under the circumstances couldn't avoid) he was off, and Uncle Peter winked at me! I hope that's not what they were referring to when they said I was now a part of their family...
As the sun quickly sunk below the horizon, Mavis and her sister walked me down the road to find a tro-tro. When we finally found one, they said they would call tomorrow (which meant 6 a.m.) to see "how the fufu had set" with my stomach. On the ride home I wondered whether I would be returning there again, like they had insisted on. I decided that it's one of those experiences that is best in retrospect, or told in a story that begins with "One time, in the Bush..." but not on a regular basis. I'm sure I will go back, though, because days like that are the essence of Ghana.
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Outi
non-member comment
Hello
My husband is a ghanaian and I have been in Ghana five times. I really love Ghana and ghanaians! One thing what I don´t like is fufu and I never eat it. My husband don´t eat it either. It is too heavy his stomach. If you don´t like it, you can say it, they will understand. Or say that it is too heavy for you... You can get rice or spagetti instead. Try rice balls! have a nice time there! Greetings from Helsinki, Finland Outi