After spending time in the capital, Accra I lived with a family in another big city called Kumasi. Who, like my Accra family, force fed me food, but this time is was canned with with tomato paste and boiled yams over and over and over. But unlike my Accra family we occasionally had running water. From Kumasi we traveled 7 hours up north to Tamale, which is part of the Sahara desert and incredibly hot. Regardless, I loved the peaceful atmosphere of the small town city and the beautiful influence of the large Muslim population. In Tamale we had the chance to meet with a chief and his traditional housing unit, which yes lives up to that stereotype of Africa and its mud huts. Even though every district has a chief and the traditional ruling system works along side with the modern governing structure we were given a formal ceremony for our arrival. The chief sat on hide skins while his council of elders sat on steps below him. They all wore their traditional dress and we were then shown into the chiefs hut (the largest). Connected to his domed shaped hut is each of his wives huts. And lucky for me I was personally chosen by his first wife to stay and become the chief's last wife and therefore get my own hut. It was a tempting offer but was forced to refuse it. People in the North do not speak Twi (the language I have been learning) so it was rather frustrating getting thrown into an entirely new culture. During the greeting ceremony in response to everything said we were told to squat, clap lightly, and say "na na na" having no idea what was being said, but I guess "na na na" is an appropriate response to all things.
In North we also did the whole safari thing and went on a little trek to see him elephants, antelopes, baboons, crocs, etc. However, I am not sure the 4 hours bus ride with 7 people across in a row on dirt roads so poor that after wards I had almost become physically Ghanaian (i.e. my skin turned blackish red) was worth the one night adventure.
In more recent news, I have just returned from my two week stay in a rural village about an hour outside of Kumasi. My village, Asaam, was a bit of a mix between a town and a village. There was a primary and junior secondary school, many churches, and even little places to buy basic needs. However, I did pump my own water from the ground and carry it on my head back to my house for bucket showers, which take place in the same room I peed in (a small storage room with cement floors and a tiny hole leading outside hopefully slanted downward). I'd say we had electricity as much as we did not have electricity. Which was not that much fun when mice and lizards decided to inhabit my room with me. Nevertheless, the hundreds of kids and again the warmth of Ghanaian people made all the difference. Any time I step outside I have at least 20 children following me or holding onto each of my 10 fingers yelling "O! Bronie" (white person). Yet, after a couple of days they learned my name and started singing this song "Efia Tini *clap clap* Efia Tini *clap clap*" I lived in a house with a family but I took my meals with the 7 other students in the village. My 5 minute walk to my house from our "headquarters" becomes a 20 minute walk, having to stop and greet anyone you see. Keep in mind that only 3% of the population speaks English. So I stick my 5 lines of Twi and continue to simply make Ghanaian sounds and they think I know what they are saying. The man who was supposedly was my host father pretty much runs the whole village. He is about 55 years old and has the smallest feet I have ever seen. Everyday he wore these gangsta gaucho shorts or his sheet as a monk robe. He declared me as his first wife and some of the other students his second and third wives. This meant our conversations basically involved him asking me when his supper will be ready. Or to tell my father to send him $800 dollars or money every month or he said he would be content with a private car. Of coarse this was all in a joking manner but it sure did make every encounter with him entertaining. He has several sons all about 20 plus years old who were so interested with me and life in America. Although they were usually gone all day working on the farm they treated me so well and I cannot believe I will probably never see any of them again.
Anyway, I loved village life. I feel so famous walking down the street and having people yell my name, asking where I am going. Or having kids singing songs about you is pretty cool. Tomorrow we leave for Cape Coast and the Volta Region for two weeks. If you read all of this, Thank you.
I really miss all of you so much. I keep having dreams about being home and wearing my jeans. Please stay safe and healthy. And thank you to all of you who have given me updates on your travels- keep it up. This also means that all of you in SF and the rest of the states need to send some updates.
Love Always,
Efia Tini
Here is a picture of Tini from SF- she is in the front left in the pinkish shirt (next to Kat then Mel in the front and Cecily in the back left and Lex on the top right)
Here she is again on the far left next to all my other friends...
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