Neena

I received a local name today. Everyone at the office was very insistent that I have one. Which is really funny to me because I don't think I'd ever ask someone their name and then immediately say, oh that's great, I'm just going to start calling you Steven. Anyway... My local name is Neena. I can't for the life of me remember what it means. Everyone here keeps telling me how easy Dagbani is but I'm not so sure about that. First of all, they usually just have me repeat back phrases without translating them for me. So I'm just spitting back meaningless syllables without any context letting me know what the words might mean. I'm finding that most interaction here is just nodding and smiling and moving on without trying to make sense of things.

For those who want to know (I'm looking at you, Megan!) I think my address is: Baobab Financial Services PO Box 550 TL E/R, Tamale, Ghana. But I have no idea how to get mail at this PO Box or even where it is so don't send anything yet. I'm not even sure if it is my address. Let me ask around some more. Doing everything takes a good bit of effort here. It's not like I can just walk into a store and get whatever I want. Things are mostly available at a market so it's like searching through a giant junkyard sale. And it's not like there are set prices, most things are gotten through a great bit of haggling. So purchasing things is like my own personal nightmare. I tend to hate talking to anyone at a store back home; being greeted by an employee and asked if I'd like some help is usually enough to scare me off. So to be in a place where I HAVE to bargain and rummage and interact is stressful enough to keep me from doing it too often just yet.

I Finally Go To "Work"

After a week in Ghana, I've learned that some terms are used very loosely. For example, things like toilet, bath, and pillow only vaguely resemble what you'd expect them to. It's almost surprising how fast you can adjust to being constantly dirty. After finally going through an entire day of work for the first time today, I can add work to the list of loose terms. In an 8 1/2 hour period, I only counted one bag of money, entered in less than 30 bits of data, and drank a liter of water. For the most part I was ignored, and when I wasn't ignored, I was only receiving marriage proposals and not work instructions. Frankly, there just wasn't anything for me to do or anyone there to give me something to occupy myself with. The day started out well enough. I walked to the office at 8am and took a seat. After awhile, the boss took me, my housemate and coworker Sean (whose been there for a couple months now), and two new trainees out to the field to collect savings from two different groups of women. Since the two trainees are going to be actual employees, one collected money and the other wrote down the data. My job was to sit there, smile, and be white. The greetings began in Dagbani (the local language), the extent of which I can only say good morning, the proper response, and my name. Then the boss spoke in Dagbani for a few minutes and then there was a role call and collection of money that lasted half an hour or so at each place. I just kind of zoned out and enjoyed the lovely morning weather. Or I'd watch the animals. I'm fascinated by the little goats. I always have the impulse to hug them but they are just so filthy. At one point I couldn't get that Bloodhound Gang song out of my head and I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of thinking about that song while I'm sitting in the midst of a rural African women's group. We were back at the office around 11:30 or so, when I was finally given my first task. I counted a single bag of money from another collection site and learned how to fill out the simple paperwork required. Then I brought it to a back office where money was being sorted. I was told to sit in a chair until my money bag had gone through the sorting. This took over half an hour. All I could do was just sit there and stare at the money counting machine and occasionally make small talk with the men in the room. They all laughed when they learned I was an American. People either yell the word for white lady at me, or if they learn I'm American they yell Obama at me too. It's pretty endearing. But in that office room there was nothing else for me to do other than fight the urge to fall asleep. At some point Sean rescued me and showed me a place down the road to have an awesome lunch for 1 GH (Ghana cedi). We ate this heaping bowl of spaghetti sauce mixed with pasta, rice, beans, and some spicy sauce mixture that was far more delicious than I just made it sound. Sadly for Sean, I was too tired to be good company. Sleeping in the heat can be really difficult and I had barely slept the previous two nights. It was back to the office after that where I sat around without further instructions for another hour. The office is supposed to close at 4pm, but in Ghana, time doesn't really mean anything. It wasn't until 3:30 that I was given my next task of the day, some simple data entry, that I had completed in about ten minutes. Then I waited for 4. At 4, I asked if there was anything else they'd like me to do which in itself is laughable because no one really asked me to do anything all damn day. So I was surprised when someone asked me to hang around for another sheet of data entry that he'd give me after he took care of something. That kind of pissed me off for obvious reasons. I've been sitting there all day since 8am and it isn't until 4pm when the office closes that I'm asked to do something. Bullshit. I hung around until 4:30 but I still wasn't given whatever task I was supposed to do by that time so I just left. So all in all, not a very good first impression of my job. I'll give it a month but if everyday is going to be like today, I'm just wasting my time. It probably wouldn't be very hard to find another volunteer op out here.

When I got home at 5pm I took an amazing but brief nap. When I got up, I really didn't know how I wanted to spend my evening. I had been out the last two nights, and I feel bad for always imposing on Sean's plans and friends. So I figured I'd spend the night in doing god knows what. I called my mom and my grandma. My grandma buried her sister today and I'm pretty bummed out that I missed the funeral. We all knew Nanny was sick but I think we all believed that we'd have a little more time with her. Then I worked out and showered which felt amazing. I finished the night up by watching The Big Lebowski. I'm so glad I remembered to bring DVDs with me. I think I'd go crazy if I went a few months without seeing a movie.

Today was difficult in a way. Of course there is going to be culture shock and a period of adjustment. But today I really noticed that I'm used to far more stimulation and productivity in my days. It's weird not always having the internet around. I feel very cut off from the outside world. It takes effort to find out information from somewhere outside the region. I haven't seen a single international newspaper since I've been out here. Not unless I go spend money at the internet cafe to read the online editions. It's isolating. This is definitely something I don't like about being out here. I prefer a faster paced life.

SYTO organized a tiny van to take 13 of us and our luggage to our projects far in the north. I was pretty pissed off. I've never been so cramped. We were all piled on top of each other and covered in bags and suitcases. We couldn't change cars until we got to Kumasi which we were told would only take four hours. We were told the trip all together would take nine hours. It took us nearly seven hours to get to Kumasi because our van broke down in the middle of nowhere because why the hell not. Between the heat, and the cramped quarters, and the lack of sleep, the entire day feels like some sort of fever dream. We finally made it to Tamale 15 hours later. I joked with the others and said that it was the longest 9 hour drive I had ever been on. Our first stop was a restaurant called Sparkles located at the Cultural Center. I had a couple spring rolls. Then we were off to our hotel Al Hassan for the night. I didn't know it then, but I'd take my last real shower there. I shared a room with a girl named Synne from Norway. I've never been near anyone who tossed so much in her sleep! I nearly jumped out of my skin in the middle of the night when she plopped one of her legs on me in her sleep. Between Synne and the lack of AC, I didn't really sleep much that night.

 I haven't read a newspaper in a week or been on the internet. I have no idea what's going on in the world. I'm currently sitting by myself in a rather nice burger joint on Oxford Street in Osu, the old Dutch settlement and part of town favored by foreigners. I escaped the joke of a cooking lesson going on at SYTO offices right now. Cooking makes me angry and unpleasant normally and especially so when I'm not getting proper instructions and I have no idea what the ingredients are.

We make a big joke about "Ghana Time" here but there is something very sad about it. And it goes just beyond my cultural upbringing and understanding of things. This laid back pace of life is very nice but it cannot be applied to everything. There has to be some correlation between such a loose interpretation of time and the lack of development and progress. Most things are left unclear and open to interpretation. I hate to sound like such a capitalist but how is it possible to do business, develop, or compete in an environment like that. For instance, I've been sitting at this table for 30 minutes and my waiter hasn't returned since seating me. Not only have I not ordered, I don't even have a drink. I'm not annoyed because I'm in an air conditioned room overlooking the street with my own water, a journal, and a book to keep me busy. But for reals. What is going on. And this is not unusual.

Tomorrow I leave for the north. We leave at 4am, ugh, and will be spending all day in a car getting to Tamale [pronounced TAH-MAH-LAY with equal emphasis on the syllables].

A Night Out in Accra

Apparently there's some kind of Reggae beach party going on tonight that plenty of the others are going to go to but I'll definitely pass. It sounds like a really good way to get mugged. Plus I hate reggae with a burning intense passion. Instead, I went out to Oxford street with a couple people and primarily hung out with Camilla and her boyfriend Andre (both from Norway). I was starving but one of the only options was this strange fast food joint across from the bar. I use the term fast food very loosely. When you approach the counter it's completely unclear who to give your order to, and when you do say something no one really moves or acknowledges anything other than the usual greetings. And then when someone does bother to listen to your order they don't ask for money or move or do anything other than turn to the next person and repeat the order while the next person also doesn't move. So you just kind of wander off to a table and watch everyone watching you and eventually, through some bit of magic the food you wanted appears and you finally pay for it. Quite different from the fast food experiences I am used to.

At the bar, I found out what it's like to draw the attention of a Ghanaian man. Rather uncomfortable actually. I tend to think of myself as rather forward but I guess I do enjoy some reserve. I don't think I've ever walked up to someone and told them that their presence was attracting me so much that I couldn't stay across the room any longer. It's nearly impossible to react to. His conversation wasn't unpleasant though. He did kiss my upper arm a couple times which was a) unwanted and b) completely gross because I was covered in bug spray. Seven of us piled into a tiny taxi home. Apparently, this is not unusual.

Market Day

Walked through the giant market here in town. My god, I don't know how to describe it. Frightening I guess is pretty accurate. Definitely overwhelming. We sat down somewhere for lunch and I tried Fufu for the first and last time. Fufu, Banku, Teesed (however you spell it) are all similar and similarly inedible for me. It's made of mashed up cassava or plantain or some grain etc and boiled to the consistency of mucus. It's plopped into a bowl, covered with a soup or gravy and eaten with your fingers. The taste isn't so bad, but the texture makes me gag. I try to have an open mind about things, but this stuff is far too revolting.

We all took a stroll down Oxford Street which has several shops that cater to a foreign crowd. While waiting for a girl in our group outside of Barclay's bank, I was approached by some street vendor calling himself Baby Rasta. He asked me where I was from and when I said New Orleans he got excited and said Oh yeah, like Lil' Wayne. And that's when I noticed he had the exact same facial tattoos as Lil Wayne. I shit you not. Wow.

First Day of Orientation

There are far more people in my orientation group than I expected, about 18 in total. Most are young girls between 18-20 from Germany. There's a few Norwegians, one Austrian, and a Brit. I'm the only American. We'll spend the first week in Accra doing our orientation together at the SYTO offices and then break off to different parts of the country to work on our volunteer projects. I didn't expect to be constantly surrounded by a never ending chatter of German. We're spending the week together at a place called Pink Hostel. The accomodation is nice enough. I'm staying in a dorm style room with about 7 other girls. At least there is an attached "shower" and some air conditioning in this room. I have no idea what my living situation is going to be like when I finally get to Tamale in the northern region.

At 8am our driver picked us up in a large company van and brought us to the SYTO offices across the street from the UNDP compound. There we piled into a large room and met Vincent, the guy in charge of incoming volunteers. Vincent is very warm and pleasant. Day one was all about health and safety issues, the scary stuff. We get to spend an hour or so talking about Malaria symptoms, finding clean water, and not getting robbed. Fun stuff. Then we went and changed money and bought local SIM cards.

Those who want to know my local number, send me a message on facebook or write me at nljunda@gmail.com. You'll have to look up the country code for Ghana though. I don't know it off the top of my head.

The afternoon was spent at the beach. The beach was...interesting. It's not somewhere I'm anxious to get back to. The people hawking their merchandise were beyond annoying. It wasn't like they'd try to sell you something and then move on when you said no. No, they sat down with you, touching you constantly, and hung out with you all day. I'm not kidding. This guy stayed with us for the whole three hours we were there. Even if you went off to sleep on one of the lounge chairs they'd come over and wake you up. The sales pitch NEVER EVER ended. I enjoy being left alone so the beach was actually a pretty miserable and stressful experience. It was impossible to be alone or to just have a goddamn conversation with the person next to you who you came there with. I've never seen something so intrusive. The whole thing made me want to crawl back into bed and hide.