For an old girl, I’m surprising myself how quickly I’m
adapting to the household routines, lugging heavy buckets of water from the
drum on the porch to my bathroom to wash and flush. I’m just a little squeamish
about putting used toilet paper in a rubbish bin instead of in the toilet bowl
to avoid clogging! But I tie off the plastic bags and the contents are later
discreetly burned in the backyard incinerator.
I’m going through anti-bacterial hand wipes at a rapid rate.
I perspire profusely in the sultry humidity, and I’m reminded constantly why I
left the sub tropics. I feel clammy, lethargic and bloated and need to wear
loose dresses instead of tight trousers.
The pure, chilled drinking water comes in plastic bags. Anna
shows me how to pierce the corner and deftly decant the refreshing water
into my bottle which I carry everywhere and swig every 10 minutes.
I’m adapting quickly to the basic food but missing a variety
of fresh vegetables and my non-meat favourite protein foods like hummus, tofu,
lentils, legumes and whole grains. Breakfast is thick, soft white bread and jam
and tea with powdered milk.
I’m finding it difficult to learn simple words and phrases,
needing to have them repeated over and over, unlike Anna who masters language
quickly. I try to commit to memory the word for Chief, which is ‘Tog-Be’ and
‘Ak-pe’ for thank you but my pronunciation is amusing! I can say ‘Yo’ which
means fine!
And Anna has taught me the Ghanaian handshake, which is to
end the shake with a squeeze and click of the thumb and middle finger. Now
that’s fun!
The happy atmosphere of Ghana is infused with Christian
faith. Market stalls are called such evangelical names as Jesus Is The Answer
general store, Rock Of Life Refrigeration, the Grace and Glory business centre
and God Is The Best beauty salon!
People sing hymns while going about their business and there
is a chapel in Justus’ front garden. I awake to the roster’s cry and morning
services with the pastor preaching and praying fervently with the locals, some
days for healing, some days for deliverance, some days just giving thanks for
blessings. The young pastor’s surprising name is Hilarious Brilliant!
This day, Tuesday the MAD girls and I pack up the room and
head to the bustling town of Ho, population 100,000, with commerce in full
swing, and traffic going in all directions! While John runs some errands and
Anna finds the internet centre, us girls hang out at a sprawling hotel with an
enticing swimming pool and two pet monkeys in a cage.
It’s enough to eat an early lunch of omelette, chips and
rice and curried veggies. The girls are also missing healthy salads and
appreciate just how lucky with the infinite variety of foods back home. When
John and Anna arrive, we meet with the Head Chief of Shia who happens to be in
Ho and when John and the MAD volunteers set off for Accra, he takes Anna and me
under his wing.
The clouds have dispersed and the sun is searing as we
wander through the busy streets, dodging deep drains and noisy cars to visit
the Chief’s family residence in Ho. When in Shia he lives in the palace. Togbe
Dadzawa the second has reigned for 20 years
after his father was chief for 63 years.
We are honoured to have this important community leader help
us sort out mobile phones and escort us to the air-conditioned Vodofone
internet centre where we get stuck in for an hour. The Chief takes us by cab to
the tro-tro depot and sees us safely handed over to the driver for the return
trip to Shia.
It has been a hectic outing in the chaotic town and I am
relieved to be ‘home’ under the ceiling fans to play with Clinton and
Emmaneula. When I give the little girl a gift of a paper fan, she dances and
thumps her chest and hoots with pure joy! I give Clinton some pencils and a
colouring book and he throws himself into copying the complex patterns. It is
overwhelming to witness Emmaneula’s appreciation of a simple trinket and the
12-year-old’s artistic zeal and enthusiasm for a new challenge.
I have already bonded with the children and made new friends
with the adults. How is it possible to feel so much a part of my new Shia
family within just a few days? In this cross-cultural connection of black and
white, there are not that many real differences. We are indeed one human family
wherever we are born and raised.
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