Saturday, 20 March 2010
4:30am and it’s already 84.3 degrees F in our room. I now know that I start sweating at 83 degrees (sitting still) and that anything below 75 degrees constitutes me pulling out long sleeves.
We weren’t really struggling to wake up at that time as much as we were to prepare ourselves for the hot and probably painful day ahead.
It actually wasn’t bad. Turned out to be one of my favorite days in Ghana. I love it when God surprises me like that. We spent the day with Ansah (aka “Rasta”) at his family village Apirede in Eastern Region, past Adukrom and Akwapim. To say the least, it was an amazing adventure.
We managed to pack and walk in the dark to the nearest tro-tro station to catch a tro by 5:30am toward Madina a larger town nearby. Ansah met us in Madina. He strolled up carrying one of the large plaid-print zippered bags that they use everywhere here to carry things. It was perched on his shoulder and looked relatively heavy. I wondered what was inside, but there was no time to ask. We hurried after him as he led the way to the next tro we needed to catch. He knew exactly where to go. I was relieved that we didn’t have to find it on our own like we originally thought. He loaded the bag in the back and we all climbed into the tro. It didn’t take very long to fill which was nice, and pretty soon we were on the road. It was relatively light outside by this time. Karlie and I bought a dough-ball from one of the ladies while we were waiting and it seemed like the perfect start to the day.
We rode for roughly an hour. No one really ever keeps track of time here. When you ask someone how far it is to somewhere, they quote you the price of how much it costs to get there by trotro rather than how long of a ride or how many miles. (Our ride costs 1 cedi 50 pesawas… about $1 US). We talked as we rode and Ansah explained lots to us about the terrain, what is grown where, what each area was noted for, etc. It was great to finally get to talk to him outside of class. The road “is one of the best in Ghana” he said. And it certainly was the best I have seen since I have been here.
His village is in the mountains so the view was beautiful. A welcome change in scenery. It also helped that the temperature was significantly cooler. The tro stopped in Adukrom (I think) and we got a taxi the rest of the way, which wasn’t far at all (but still cost us 2.50 cedi). We “alighted” (got out) at the Y-intersection that Ansah had drawn on the map he had made us earlier when we thought we would be meeting him in Apirede. We followed him across the road and through a large house with big rooms and cement floors. There were quite a few people out front of the house who greeted us as we came by. We came out of the back of the house and realized that the land sloped down significantly leaving us at the top of some very steep stairs instead of at ground level. There was a concrete patio at the bottom and there were women everywhere busy at work. Some were washing pots, washing clothes, feeding the baby—and animals were busy scavenging for leftovers: goats eating everything not tied down, puppies timidly licking and sniffing old wrappers, and chickens pecking at anything that fell to the ground. Ansah’s house was perpendicular to the first house and we made our way to the porch. The women were excitedly greeting us and rattling off Twi and smiling. We smiled and greeted them. We know very little Twi and they know very little English. It makes for great conversation lol.
We sat and talked for a while on the porch of his house and then followed Ansah around the yard to see a few of the different plants we have been studying and he insect damage to them. We saw whitefly damage to pawpaws (aka papayas). It was great to finally see some of what we’ve been learning about right there in front of us. He showed us coco-yams , which looks like it may be related to caladiums (Mom), and explained to us how it is eaten and planted. I was so glad to finally be able to picture it correctly. We saw a few other things and Ansah explained scion-grafting to us again—still not sure I completely understand, but it definitely helped. We had tons of questions, and Ansah answered them willingly. I think he was enjoying teaching us about his home.
After we had explored the yard, we sat on the porch taking in the daily life. I couldn’t help but think to myself how you can watch chickens peck the yard in any country and it is still entertaining. It made country songs pop into my head, which consequently made me miss home. Oh the simple life.
After a while, Ansah asked if we wanted to eat before we went out, which here means they are offering you food and you should probably partake. So we said yes and followed him back through the large house to the lady selling waakye and noodles. He ordered a really big bowl of waakye, noodles, two sauces, and fish. Karlie and I just looked at each other and wondered how on earth we were going to eat all of that. It turns out that the reason Ansah had asked us if we were vegetarians was not because we are American, but because he is a vegetarian, so he just sat and talked with us while we ate and then fixed himself some soup and waakye. Then we set off on our walk which he kept warning us was far. It was starting to warm up and I knew we’d be sweating good by the time we got where we were headed (you are never, not sweating here, but there are definitely different degrees of it). We grabbed our bags and headed out—Ansah, his mom, Karlie, and I.
Fewer people yelled, “Obroni! Obroni!” which was nice, but I wasn’t sure how everyone felt about having white people in town. About half the people greeted us warmly though and smiled and waved. Everyone knew Ansah and his mom. It was great to see such a community—kind of reminded me of home. We weaved through some of the houses on our way to the main road of farms. Ansah and his mom were each carrying half of the contents of the bag he had brought. It turns out that it was full of plantain suckers (sort of like baby plants- pieces of larger plants that can be rooted to form a new plant) and a coconut. The two of them had also grabbed some of the corn cobs that we had earlier poured out on the porch to inspect the weevil infestation and damage—so cool! Ansah was also carrying a machete (here they always call them cutlasses) and a short-handled, angled hand hoe (not sure of the name). As we walked, his mom just talked to us every few yards in Twi, telling Ansah different things to show us. We made our way down a huge hill on the main road (which was an excellent dirt road cut into the rocky hillsides, extra wide and leading to the River Volta). There were farms on either side, all carefully cut, and most also burned, into the hillside. We stopped to see cassava and identify male and female frawned palms. We stopped by two springs at which Ansah and his mom filled up two 1.5L Voltic (common brand of trusted bottled water here) bottles of drinking water. We saw a cocoa farm for the first time (and hopefully not the last)! His mom even made sure she found an old ripe cocoa pod that got left after harvest for us to try later. There were beautiful farms all around and so many plants. It was good to finally be familiar with some of the trees and such. We passed an okra farm and identified a yam plant (not sweet potatoes), saw giant millipedes (Jane lol), large mushrooms, and amazing views. Up and down another very large hill, past some nice houses. Ansah and his mom were constantly showing us things and answering our questions. It was great.
We were getting really close to another big slope of the hill when we saw a house on the left and Ansah spoke to the people in the yard. It was clear that they were good friends. The man made his way over and you realized that he, too, was a Rasta. He was smiling and speaking and we went to saw hello. After he greeted Ansah, I saw hello and suck out my hand and said my name. He just looked at me. All I could think was, “Do Rastas not shake hands? Ansah shakes hands. All the other rastas I’ve met do. Uh-oh, I just broke some code of Rastafarianism. He looked back at Ansah and started talking to him. At first I didn’t think he was speaking English because his accent was disguising his words until I realized he was Jamaican. I quickly realized that he was not in fact a fan of white people. He was going on about how we come in and they show us around and teach us about African ways and then we come in and take over. I’m not sure why, but he really caught me off-guard. He looked so friendly. And he didn’t start yelling at us like most anti-white people do. It just really surprised me. He wasn’t aggressive and nothing really happened, but the feeling stuck with me. Ansah said a few things (I can’t remember his reaction really at all) and we left.
The field was very close from there, and we walked just a little further. Then we cut through a narrow path into Ansah’s field. “I am an absentee farmer, “ Ansah laughed. It had been two months since he had been there and the field had grown back up with weeds. His mom wasted no time in setting to work. She grabbed the machete and started hacking away at the weeds, Ansah started digging, and Karlie and I just looked at each other like great now we have to stand idly by as the rich white people who have come to watch the Africans work. We kept asking how we could help, but Ansah kept saying we would help plant when they finished preparing the ground. “The tools are just 2,” he said. So we talked about agriculture, about Ghana, about America, about black and white, about Rastas, and about his friend’s animosity. It was interesting to hear his viewpoints and see how he views the world. I couldn’t help but think about how much I had learned in the last 2 days with Kofi and Richard’s visit, and now with our visit to Ansah’s village. God is really using this time here.
Pretty soon, Karlie thought about is moving the rocks out of the field. I was so glad she thought of something; we really wanted to contribute. So we started tossing them into two piles. Ansah said he would use them to build his house and I could tell his was happy at the thought of it. What a beautiful life. What a simple, appreciative, beautiful way to live. With everything you could ever need right there. Family. Friends. Community. Your own source of food. An amazing view from a hilltop (“mountain” here) overlooking the River Volta. Amazing. I can picture him settled there with a family of his own.
Once they had finished cutting the weeds, Ansah began digging the holes for the plantains. I followed behind him with the suckers and he showed me how to plant them. He carefully stepped them off. 4 paces between each, and lined them up by sight. Once we had planted them all, Ansah took the coconut over to his friend (I assume the Rasta) to place undertheir bathhouse where it would receive enough moisture to sprout. Meanwhile, Ansah’s mom removed all of the dried corn kernels from the cob into a bag. She then started digging holes and showed me about how many kernels to throw in. Since the weevils had damaged them so, we planted about 6 to a hole instead of the usual 2 or 3. I’m curious to know how many will sprout. After a while, Ansah returned and we finished up shortly thereafter. We were all hot, tired, and thirsty, but his mom continued working, cutting more weeds. Ansah cut open the cocoa pod for us. We sat under the shade of some weeds to inspect it. Much to our surprise there were layers of large seeds all around the inside, held together with a membranous layer. You remove them and suck on the seed until they lose their flavor, then you spit it out and take another. I have to confess, every time I tried one I almost cringed at the strangeness of the texture and flavor, but after a while the fruit tasted a lot like sour watermelon Sour Patch gummies. We ate quite a few and left the seeds to dry before they can be planted. We packed up to leave and suddenly there before us is a pile of sticks that Ansah’s mom has managed to bundle up from who knows where because there aren’t really any trees around. They were tied up with a vine. No one even saw her collect them. She is something else—busy at work always—not your typical example of a Ghanaian. I was in awe of her strength and work ethic. She puts many to shame (me included). We started on our journey back up the hot hills. She had the bundle balanced on her head longways, back to front. We stopped again at the spring to collect water, but she kept walking and disappeared up the road. Karlie and I filled up our bottled and drank some, then we climbed back out of the woods onto the main road behind Ansah. We saw the bundle of sticks sitting up the road a ways. Ansah’s mom was down in the okra (here they call it “okro”) field gathering some more sticks (only these were slightly charred from slash and burn) and talking to the two men down there. There was a very big, very steep bank to climb to get out of the field and here she came with her hands full. She tossed one up on the bank (which was more like a limb than a stick) and then climbed up with the others. Ansah wanted us to speak to the men, so we climbed down and stepped carefully across the okra field towards the men on the other side who were knocking down avocados out of a tree. We were busy inspecting bugs in the dirt while the men handed Ansah seven avocados. He asked if we could put them in our bag (unaware that he intended for us to keep them—what a gift!) and we put them in Karlie’s bag. We said “Medaase” (thank you) and started back towards the embankment. We climbed up carefully and realized that although the bundle of sticks was there, his mother was missing again. The two men were joking with each other and pushing and shoving and speaking in Twi. Ansah called to his mom who answered and we realized she was across the road up the hill and in a cassava field harvesting. Whose cassava field was it? I laughed to myself—why wouldn’t she be—she hadn’t stopped yet, why now. She brought down handfuls of tubers (cassava is much like potatoes and is certainly their equivalent here as in much of the world). She carefully placed them between the sticks of the bundle, tying the new limbs on as well with a piece of cloth. I carried the one largest limb. We started off again up the road. I was glad we had gotten more water. We talked as we walked and then I recognized some familiar tracks in the road—tractor tires! We reached the last hill and notices a motor-grader at the top working on the road—that explained the tracks. We took a detour through the trees and around a few houses to avoid all the dust from the equipment. Ansah and his mom spotted some mushrooms growing in a recently burned field just beside the path. They picked them and we made our way up the last stretch of hill to town.
The ladies greeted us upon our return. I can only assume they are aunts and relatives. Extended families live in close proximity to one another. We went in the house, and Ansah’s father and some of the children circled around the television. We sat in the other room and talked for a while. His mom came in and asked some questions which Ansah translated to us as “Would you like some yams?” We both agreed we would love to try some, hoping they wouldn’t give us too many. Of course they handed us a large plate piled with boiled yams, cocoyams, and cassava just steaming, and a plate of kontomere as well. The kontomere sauce is made of tomato, cocoyam leaves, pepper, and mushrooms. You just dip pieces of the tubers in the sauce. It was absolutely delicious! I think it is now tied with red-red for our favorite Ghanaian food.
After finishing the whole—yes—the whole plate, we decided to walk around and check out Apirede a bit. It has been raining while we ate, so it had cooled off significantly. The Ghanaians were cold but Karlie and I were fine. I love rainy afternoons. We walked the streets even though most people were inside. Quelea birds were chattering up a storm in two of the trees on the street. We passed the chief’s palace and Ansah’s grandpa’s house and started on the next street when it started to rain hard again. Ansah hollered to a girl on a porch a little ways away and we ran over to take cover there. She set up a bench for us. Ghanaians are such hospitable people. We sat for a while listening to the rain, watching the kind girl stir a pot of bankou (a very popular Ghanaian dish), and asking Ansah about his work in the north and agricultural extension in Ghana. When the rain eased up, we said thank-you again and made our way back to his house. There were more children yelling “Obroni” after us this time. When we got back we gathered our bags and said our goodbyes. Ansah’s mom asked us to stay overnight and leave in the morning. She was so sweet, but we really needed to get back. We said goodbye to everyone and agreed to come back sometime. We walked out into the street and waited for a tro to come. Surprisingly, one came right away. It turns out, Ansah’s uncle owns quite a few tros and the take him without charge, so we got a free ride to the tro station. The tro to Accra was full, so we took a taxi into the next town to meet Ansah’s friend and catch a tro from there. His friend, “Kind David,” a rasta who apparently loves women, and has the most beautiful wide, an adorable rasta son, and a nice house, wasn’t home but we met his wide and son who were very friendly. Then we waited for a tro but none were coming (always the case when you want to go somewhere without a Ghanaian with you). We began to walk back towards the station. About halfway back there came a tro to Madina so we hopped on and made it to Madina just after dark. We caught a tro going to Circle and made it back to Legon, although I felt bad that we were one of the first stops and were sitting in the very back corner, but with that guy’s ability to skip traffic by not driving on the actual road, they shouldn’t’ve been too upset.
We walked back to ISH discussing our amazing day. I felt so blessed. Thank You, Lord, for such an amazing opportunity, and for helping me slowly realize all that I have been given.
