Never Give Out Your Phone Number in Ghana

When I left the Internet Cafe after I wrote the last post, two guys approached me as I was walking back to my house. They, like the oh-so-many other people I've had conversations with were interested in who I was, where I was from etc. etc. but mainly just curious about my 'whiteness.' I had my guard up, was being critical enough; but I had had such trusting experiences with total strangers earlier---which was fresh in my mind. One of the guys, Ben, said he wanted my number- which I said I did not have the number to (true), so he told me to type in his and we could grab a bite to eat or something during the daytime. Thinking about how I've only been hanging out with my 14-year-old home stay nephew in Adenta where I come home to each night after school, I decided what the hell and added his phone number to my phone.

Big mistake. Take note here. Now that my phone was out; I had no excuse not to call HIM so he could get MY number.

But, OK. I was not worried about this. If I decided  I did not want to meet up, I wouldn't.

I woke up the next morning to 8 (not kidding) missed calls. From Ben. I'd screwed up.

As I'm telling my class this story during the time at the beginning of each day 'Life in This Ghana,' I received 3 more missed calls from this guy. Yemi, my Academic Director and Kwame, who also helps lead our program, said this was a sign of courtship. I would eventually get so annoyed, I'd have to call back. Kwame came to my rescue. Funny how life tends to work out: all I have been complaining about for the past 3 years is the 60 to 40 girl to guy ratio in Burlington (also referred to as Girlington) and about how guys don't ever make the effort to pursue anything via calling etc etc....I got what I'd asked for (and prefer a nonchalant relaxed guy any day, I might add).

With the entire class gathered around, Kwame called Ben and completely in character, stern face and all said something like this...
"Hello? Who is this? Who did you intend to call? Well I'm Kwame and that girl you were trying to call is my Wife, OK? Yeah, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't call here anymore."

And sure enough, Ben did not call again.

After class we decided to celebrate by having some beers since there is a place to drink outside by the University. Kwame came with us and decided he would show us how a true Ghanaian Man pounds beers. (By the way, when you come to Ghana, STAR BEER is the best one). Kwame ended up getting too drunk after a quick throw back of 4 or so beers under 45 minutes and as I went to bring back some of the empty bottles, Kwame yelled "THAT'S MY F*ING WIFE, YA'ALL." Needless to say, Kwame and I are apparently married now, and he's the best Ghanaian husband a gal could ask for. I'm just happy he's willing to accept the title of my husband so I can fend off any other potential suitors!


Now for the battle of The Tro Tros vs Erica. Getting to and from my homestay to the University of Ghana, Legon and back has proved to be quite difficult. How can I truly explain the situation? For starters, there isn't a set time for these tro tros to pick you up, they call out where they are going and arrive on their own time- more often than not filled to capacity. There are not street signs, lanes, road signs, traffic lights, or bus stop- just a general area that is known for people to catch tro tros at.

On Tuesday, I was waiting for a tro tro to Legon, to the university from 7:10 AM until 7:40 AM. All of them were calling for MEDINA! MEDINA! None for Legon. I was going to be late for 8:00 AM class. A well dressed man in a suit told me his friend was dropping off his two daughters at the Legon Primary school next to the university. I know, I know, I've been told to NEVER under ANY  circumstance take a ride from a stranger, but in Ghana, things are different and sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith, hold your breadth, and trust in the goodness of people. So seemingly without another option, I did just that. And made it to class safe and sound---only a mere 30 minutes late.

There's been stories of students force feeding themselves Fu-Fu; tossing it back like shots and ending up projectile vomiting in their front lawns. One of the guys here, Jake (born in Shang Hai but raised in California to paint a picture---oh and he met Derek Trucks just as an aside) ended up riding a tro tro for 2 and a half hours trying to get back home. My friend Claire was so disoriented getting off her tro tro from school, since it had gotten dark, she had no idea where she was- couldn't recognize any landmarks and didn't have a phone. A stranger let her call one of the academic directors, whose number she carried in her bag, who gave her homestay mother's phone and she made it back when her homestay brother came looking for her.

So do you want to know your Ghanaian name???
In Ghana everyone is named based upon the day of the week they were born:
SUNDAY: Female= Akosua, Asi, Ese   Male=Kwasi
MONDAY: Female= Adwoa, Ajo    Male= Kwadwo, Kojo
TUESDAY: Female= Abena, Araba   Male= Kwabena, Kobina
WEDNESDAY: Female= Akua    Male= Kwaku
THURSDAY: Female= Yaa    Male= Yao, Ekow
FRIDAY: Female= Afua, Afia, Effua    Male= Kofi
SATURDAY: Female= Ama      Male= Kwadme, Kwamena

I was born on Wednesday so I am Akua (Ah-koo-ah). Most Ghanaians have an American first name and use their Ghanaian name as a middle name; and since I was born without a middle name, I am looking forward to marching into Burlington Town Hall come Fall and legally have one! Erica Akua: nice ring to it.

As far as malaria goes; it's hard to tell if you have it since all of us are rundown from the heat, have aching joints from cramped tro tros and long walks, and have headaches and diarrhea most likely from dehydration. I guess the fever that comes along with it will be the symptom we all look for, then.

One more thing about transportation: it is crazy to me that any person, old or young, will give up their seat to you if you are standing on one of the big buses, just because you are white. These buses cram probably close to 200 people on them. I feel like the White Rosa Parks every time I ride them.

I taught my nephew Kesta how to play UNO and he's a big fan, he was doing research at an internet cafe tonight which I thought to be the one I am at now...but I do not see him. I feel like a member of the family now that he stands outside the door to my bedroom inviting me to internet cafes and such and after some UNO bonding (about 6 games worth----he really liked it).

Musuem of Archaeology on University of Ghana's campus proved to have a nice pottery selection. Classes on burial ritual, gender and education in Ghana and sex education in regard to HIV/AIDS, and family planning, along with continued Twi study have all proved to hold my interest and fascinate me. I want to read everything I can get my hands on about Ghana and am happy that laid back evenings at the home stay allow me to do so.

All for now. Mah jo (good evening).