5:30PM, on a Thursday

I apologize for the delay between entries; as my life here becomes more “routine,” I feel like I have less to say.

Last week I made several market visits with Victoria. We were supposed to have finished by tomorrow, but unfortunately she slipped and injured her hand on Monday. Yesterday, the town had no electricity again, and my homestay ran out of water – I will never take functioning utilities for granted again – so a 2-hour walk in the sun without the promise of a cold shower and a fan at the end was out of the question for me. We have completed today’s visit, but Victoria told me that since tomorrow is a public holiday (Farmer’s Day), we will have to do the rest next week. By then, 5 weeks will have gone by and I will just be wrapping up my field research. The progress of my project seems achingly slow and, coupled with the communication issues over the survey that Victoria and I have been having, has proven to be a great source of frustration for me.

I tell you all of this to give you an idea of both “Ghana time” and the difficulties of fieldwork. The pace of life is simply slower here, and there are so many good excuses for suspending work: no power, too hot, too rainy, slow internet, etc. But unlike the Americans, the Ghanaians are unruffled by such disruptions. Life is to be enjoyed, not stressed over. I can’t say I find the extension of this mentality to the workplace terribly efficient or one that I will adopt as my own, but I find it interesting and somewhat admirable and, most of all, so different. As I was discussing with one of my fellow American volunteers yesterday, it’s one thing to know that other cultures with different values exist; it’s quite an eye-opening experience to actually be immersed in a totally foreign way of life.

The best lesson I have learned so far is about the imperfections inherent in the nature of fieldwork, particularly in a foreign language setting. Working with a translator is much more difficult than I would have imagined. It’s not simply the vocabulary that causes problems, either – one of the more challenging struggles has been the idea of a hypothetical question, which is hard for Victoria to communicate and even harder for the market women to understand. I had tried to anticipate the kind of information I would need and formulated my survey questions around those ideas when I began, but it was not until I started conducting the surveys that I discovered certain questions needed to be added, tweaked, or omitted. Every day is an adjustment to what I learned the day before; this kind of research is almost a living thing. Flexibility and focus are equally vital (and equally challenging) to its successful execution.

In addition to work, I have been playing a little. At 6AM on Saturday, I caught a TroTro (a hot, crowded, rickety van stuffed to the gills with people that careens along without regard to the fact that suspension systems don’t seem to exist in Ghanaian vehicles) to Accra. By myself. It was simultaneously terrifying and gratifying. Once in Accra, I found a taxi to the National Museum, where I occupied myself for a good hour looking over all the exhibits. It is on the small side, but engrossing nonetheless. It displays items not just from Ghana but from all over the African continent. Pictures can be found at the end of this entry.

After the museum, I attempted and failed to find the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial and a giant outdoor market of arts and crafts. By that time, I was so hot and sweaty and lost that I chartered a taxi to the Accra Mall 20 minutes away. The Accra Mall’s biggest draw for me is that it is air conditioned. I spend an hour in the Western-style grocery store, Shoprite, half shopping and half just enjoying a little taste of home. I picked up a few things for Tuesday’s ProGhana group dinner, which I had been enlisted to cook, and a few things just for myself. Then I took my purchases to an American-style Chinese restaurant (you have to find comic irony in an African version of an American version of a Chinese eatery), where I enjoyed a leisurely lunch solo. Briana met me soon after and together with her Lebanese friends, we ran a few errands before driving back (in a spacious, air-conditioned SUV – this girl has the hook-up!) to Cape Coast.

Back at home, we arrived just in time for a post Thanksgiving banquet, Lebanese-style, with Briana’s friends, the ProGhana group, some Ghanaian friends and some random Germans working on their year of nationally required foreign service. Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, pita bread, hummus and garlic spreads, and French fries were on the menu. Dinner was followed by singing and dancing to both American, Ghanaian and Lebanese music. The poor Germans in attendance must have felt a little put out to be the only group not represented but they were very good sports.

In other news, I am about to be abandoned by the Americans. Steve went to Accra yesterday and is flying home tomorrow; Zach is going to Accra on Saturday and taking his plane home at the end of next week; Briana is leaving on the 15th for a two-week stint at her parents’ home in Arizona. I am excited about experiencing Christmas and New Year’s in a different culture, particularly one so deeply attached to religion, but also nervous about handling this isolation during such a family-focused period. Hopefully being drawn into Ghana’s holidays will help me miss my own less.

Pictures will have to come later because I'm out of time! Well maybe just one...


I know it’s crass but the humor of this was too much for me. Of course Flowers Gay Schools would be known for their fruits! Coincidentally this is where my homestay mother wants to send JD – right after his 18 month birthday. Kids start school very, very early here.