(wo)Man vs. Food: a Home Stay Reality

I am 21 years old and I have a 6:00 PM curfew at my homestay. 

My homestay parents have not said this time, exactly, but when I was last at the Internet Cafe a street away from home a little after 6 (among friends), I got a call from a frantic homestay dad yelling, "ERICA?! ERICA!? WHERE ARE YOU!? COME HOME! WHERE ARE YOU?" Maybe this is the one phrase he specifically chose to master with all of the homestay students he has hosted; but he was upset with me when I came into the house at 6:30 at night on Monday. When I talked with him, my homestay mom, and sister, Juliet, about it; consensus was that 'home late' means home any time around 7:00 PM. And dinner is served promptly at 5:00; a point in the day that is still extremely hot that my appetite is more often than not, not quite ready for.

In all fairness, I recognize the risk of being out past dark being a woman in West Africa and it is unsafe for a woman to do so- and I understand this. I am just happy that Claire, Ashley, and Izzie are so close by because hanging with them after dinner is the best. 

It was a week of 21st birthday celebrations for Jake, Jamie and Ashley. After having gin and sour lime drinks (really refreshing in the brutal heat) Tuesday afternoon and cheersing to 'Enjoying our Lives' as one of our Academic Directors, Papa Atta, says; I called my homestay dad to let him know I would be home a little after 5 and he shouldn't worry (learned my lesson from not calling the night before). I was surprised when I came back to a very happy homestay dad, one who insisted I sit down immediately for dinner. 

I looked at an intimidatingly large plate of yams and plantain, seeping in an unidentifiable fishy/red sauce. I was happy for the alcohol in my belly that was adding to my hunger. 

My homestay dad instructed me that I was not allowed to leave the table until my plate was finished. He showed me that he had twice as much food as me and insisted that even so, he will win. As it has always been a dream of mine to be a competitive eater, I seized the opportunity and got started. 

The eating was going pretty well and my homestay dad and I were chatting up a storm until he told me there would be no more talking as he proceeded to compete in silence for mental clarity and focus. 

15 minutes later, with less than 1/4th of yam to go; I lost. But put up a valiant effort if I do say so. And my homestay dad and I are closer than ever after this bonding experience. By the way, the family I'm staying with has hosted over 10 students throughout the SIT years, and no student has ever beat my dad in the eating competition. So Man vs. Food: here I come!

....will add here that one of the guys here, Dan, is actually a competitive eater; by my standards anyway. If you're ever in Seattle Washington; Dan's on a hot wings "Wall of Flame." He said he could not taste for over a week.

Also have gotten to know my homestay sister, Juliet, much better and she is rivaling being a better sister than my own biological one (sorry if you're reading this Kate; but if you are- call me from Colombia). We have had lots of long talks and she is such a strong, intelligent, role model that I really admire. She is so kind and is studying African Art at Tech college (where we have classes every afternoon) for graduate school and I really wish her all of the best and am excited to stay in touch with her when we leave Kumase. 

Yesterday we had an opportunity to observe a ceremony at a traditional shrine with a priestess. It was a really emotional and bizarre experience for me. There was lots of dancing, drumming, chanting, singing, and spirit possession rituals that we were able to observe and be a part of. Lots of apeteshi passed around among the priestess as well. Apeteshi is the Ghanaian alcohol that allegedly has too strong of an alcoholic content to be measured....or at least no one is really sure how strong it is. I took one whiff of the stuff and that was enough for me. 

We had an opportunity to ask the priestess anything we wanted, as Kwame served as our translator. One by one we went into an enclosed room with a sheet dividing us from the priestess. I chose to ask her about my migraines; if she had anything to say about them. She told me they are worse when I am mean and need to be kind. She told me I should not think too much. She then told me that they will one day go. I asked her if she had anything else to tell me and she said that there are some bad emotional ties tugging at my heartstrings that I need to let go. She ended by saying I was a happy, happy girl. Nothing she said was too specific, pretty general, but talking about my migraines always gets me emotional  and found myself tearing up. 

Today was our very first African dance class. We are putting on a long recital in traditional costume in one week; on Friday and all of our homestay families and professors will be attending. After being told by one of the traditional drumming/dance groups we went to see that although I am the most self conscious on the dance floor, but I put in the most effort (pretty much that I am the worst dancer in the group); I was nervous for class. 

I did not think that anything would be harder than Statistics; but African dance has proved to be. I truly think that this recital will be one of the most challenging experiences of my life, without a doubt. 

I have always been more than grateful that my parents never pushed me to do anything I did not want to do, but today, during dance class- I was cursing them for not forcing me to ever take a dance class- because it seems that I am hopeless at finding any sort of rhythm----but with that said; it is still loads of fun sweating buckets and grooving with everyone and will have great dances to do at parties and music festivals from now on. This recital will be filmed, not to worry. 

We also got to tour the Kumasi ceramics studio today and I cannot wait to get my hands dirty in the mud and throw some of the pottery I've been sketching in the margins of my Twi class notebooks. Whether I get to do pottery in Kumasi or elsewhere in Ghana, the opportunity is there and it will be nice to have an excuse for being so dirty. 

As we have been here for around 3 weeks now, we have begun missing a  few things from home. All food related. Here is part of my running list of things I would really love, right now.....

1. Cheese. Cheddar cheese. A big block of it. 

2. A root beer float. With strawberry ice cream, not vanilla. 

3. A bloody mary. Or any kind of vegetable juice. The alcohol is not necessary. 

4. Vegetables. 

5. Strawberries. 

6. Crepes. 

7. Milk. Chocolate milk. Yogurt. 

8. Bubble tea. Smoothies. 

9. Pesto. 

10. Deep dish spinach pizza. With a fork and a knife. 

11. Any type of greek food. Ovgolemeno soup and saganaki, please. 

I think I'm beginning to get fed up with pulling tiny fish bones out of my teeth at dinner, or chomping into a hard piece of dirt in the gritty mixture of beans, salad, sauce and noodles at lunch, and am craving anything that is not with rice, beans, plantain, yam, fish, chicken,or drenched in oil.