Taking the Fufu

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As the copying machine whirs along with copy after copy of housing finance questionnairres, it almost feels luxurious to be sitting still here typing again, just an hour away from being free from work until our research team meets at the bus station tomorrow afternoon.

As I mentioned in yesterday's apology, this week has been insane. We spent the week in a place called Samaritan Villa, a Catholic retreat outside of Kumasi that was a great backdrop to four days of training students on how to do focus groups and surveys, and develop our questionairres and various other complicated little Excel charts. The kids were really well engaged, and asked great questions, as well as constantly using the very Ghanaian trait of making a "the line is drawn here!" statement, fully standing and almost shouting over some issue, then not really objecting when we decided to go the other direction. I think it's getting the chance to step up on the soapbox, not the ultimate decision, that is what matters in those cases. Kind of like when people act a fool on talk shows just to get some air time.

In addition to housing finance debates (sounds exciting, huh?), Samaritan Villa provided some great wildlife. On Monday as we prepared materials for the students' arrival that evening, a large commotion came up from the flock of handymen that work there. We stepped outside the conference room to see them standing around in a circle, talking about something they were poking with a long stick, respectfully keeping a distance. I walked closer to find a four foot long cobra, now dead from the machete of one of the workers, but still squirming at tail and head as the last nerves still pulsing put on a show for me and the gang of groundskeepers. Unfortunately, it didn't die with its cheeks swelled, whcih would have been a great photo, but I'm not pushing my luck by complaining, since the cheeks only flare up when it's getting ready to spit sometimes lethal venom at you. And then, two days later we came across a still very much alive six inch scorpion in the gutter outside the building, which was just as startling, and once I figure out how to post pictures, I'll show you I'm not exaggerating either, the thing was massive, and it was not an easy kill by that same machete, it's armor putting up a valiant fight.

Anyways, those were the highlights, but this really was a week filled with difficulty and stress. For some reason it was decided that the Obruni (me) who has been in Kumasi for one week should be responsible for arranging all accomodations, food, transport and anything else they could think of for 20-plus people for three weeks of field work. I can not emphasize enough how poor a decision I think this was, not just because I don't know my way around here, but also because, if you know me, you know I'm not a details guy. Basically, my travel and work abroad has given me a strong "deal with it" philosophy, and that did not always mesh with constantly having people come up to me complaining about something. Of course this lead to some funny moments. well, funny now that they're over at least.

My favorite was the first night, sitting around with the students, who are all from Kumasi, and hearing them complain about the dinner that night--pasta with red sauce, and that they would prefer more typical Ghanaian dishes. Still trying at this point to please people, I talked to the really friendly woman who cooked all the meals (it was hard to stay mad around her when she never stopped smiling as I constantly changed our orders on the fly), and she said ok, she would change tomorrow's meal to Fufu, a cassava-based pile of mush that is as Ghanaian as hot dogs are American. Of course, at supper the next day I noticed many of the kids, these same kids who had complained, fighting over the one plate of rice, then coming over individually to demand more of it since "I don't take the Fufu." Of course you don't...and I silently cursed them as I heaped the Fufu goo into my own mouth, since I somehow can in fact "take the Fufu."

So the moral of the story is, I should not be a wedding planner. but you already know that if you've ever chased down a chicken bus in Guate with me or tried to plan a long weekend road trip wihtout much more than a mapquest printout. The second moral of the story would be, teenagers are spoiled brats in every culture, but you already knew that too. Tomorrow I head to Techiman, where I will lead two of our research teams in the field. I can't wait to get out there and start gathering the data, and to see the communities we will be working with. As mad as I was about this week, I'm even more excited for the next.

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Comments

[Buko]

So the true reveals itself
Rafer - been a few weeks behind on the blogo (this is the first post i am reading in a month - i know i am a horrible friend). So I have to say that it took you this long to realize you are not wedding planner? Stick with being a profane clergy.