My parents house in Atasamanso ( Ah-tah-sa-mon-su) is in the wealthy part of the city, or supposedly. Kumasi,and many other areas of Ghana are not like LA, or NYC though where entire neighborhoods are known for their wealth. It's not like Pacific Palisades, Beverly Hills, or the Upper East Side where you can guess with almost 100% certainty that those hailing from these areas are much more well off than others. Next to some of the nicest houses springing up here, you can still have multiple families living out of what many of us would consider a shack. So you can only imagine my surprise when on one of my walks, just 10 minutes down the road, I came across a bustling town. "Rich areas" here are simply ones in which those whom are able to buy land and build big houses. From word of mouth, or general awareness, others also seek out land in these same areas. Property and land prices go up and voila, you have a desired area. I remember being here 11 years ago and reacting every time I saw a big house but eh, chale, let me tell you, now I only react when I see ones that are bigger than the house I plan to build here.
I have to tell you all now that staring is something you just get used to here. Obviously, I look "different," and my running shorts and big tees were probably a sure-fire give away, but in our culture here, if you wanna look by golly you can. No one knows it to be rude like in other parts of the world but of course, I near took offense the first few times it happened here. Lesbihonest though, who wouldn't want to stare at me? After 4 days of walking, and sleeping, and more walking and sleeping, and maybe a little bit of my inability to live under my parents' roof after so many years away, I decided it was time to head straight into the belly of the beast: ACCRA. I hit up Sharifah on her celly, I kid you not, a day before my anticipated arrival and told her to warn the masses. I spent the morning of my departure packing only my finest in preparation for my fabulous life ahead. I don't know who I thought, and maybe still think, I'm going to become in Ghana but my wardrobe would tell you otherwise. I opted to take the V.I.P bus ( Big, red, foreigner owned bus line decked out with leather seats, that recline, WAY too much A/C, and more ghana movies than you can imagine.) which was the same way I had come to Kumasi in the first place. I forgot to tell you all one of the best experiences of my first V.I.P bus ride when I initially arrived. Apparently, from time to time, Priests are allowed to board the buses at the station. About 10-20 minutes into your ride they get up and start preaching, I kid you not, in Twi, for anything from one hour to the whole five hour ride. Our Priest was kind enough to cut it off after the first hour. I've never been so mad at myself for not having headphones in my bag, And I hope he still included me in his prayers even though he may have seen me covering my ears ( just because it was loud, I promise :) My sister is gonna kill me when she reads this.And actually, maybe my brother now too. #heathens-r-us
Some highlights/learning points from his praise.
1) When the priest goes "hello" the audience should all reply "hiiiiiiii". 2) "Amen" is the same in Twi church and English church. 3) When you think the Priest is done, he is not. Clapping will only encourage. 4) You CAN make a killing as a traveling preacher; whether you convert it from cedis to dollars or not. I wish I had a picture for you all, or a video. Next time. Religion, Christianity more specifically, is HUGE here. Like huge. and everywhere. Going to church is a big deal, and quite celebrated. Even those who don't really have the means will always find a way to look their finest come Sunday service.
I've decide that this blog will, and should, also be used as an introduction to my father, Mr. Kwame Manu Acheampong, for those of you have not been fortunate enough to meet my old man. He is not a character, he is THE character. And between his words of advice and his rules, he is nothing short of entertaining- now that I'm older of course.
Now, I must stress to you all that my traveling outfit for that day was cute. I thought so at the time but thinking back now it's questionable. I was going for casual, comfortable, cute- the three c's. (okay, maybe didn't hit the third 'c' this time but the comfortable and casual was all there) I was decked out in red, lace leggings (lace is so hot right now) and an oversized US Trojans Women's Soccer T-shirt ( soccer or die right?) I also must add that I know EXACTLY what my dad is like, and thus what will and won't fly. My dad has always been more strict if you will about my style of dress; "Dress modestly," "Cover your chest," (which also means the entire area below your neck) "Respect Yourself." All good and well, yes. Skirts and dresses should be past the knees and clothing should not hug the figure. This last point is what got me that day i.e. the leggings. Let me also add that my dad had seen/interacted with me for at least 3 hours before my departure. But of course, it was not until I had walked out the front door, literally,that he demanded, " Is that what you're wearing?" Me: "Yes" Dad: "I'm not happy with it at all.Wear what you were wearing yesterday "i.e. he wanted me to change. I'll save you the rest and just leave you with the images below.
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| 3 'C's |
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| Daddy is pleased |
Don't judge me, or perhaps you should. Not only was I modestly covered, but no way in hell anyone would be looking at me in that outfit, and if they were it was cuz I looked like a fool. I consoled myself with the thought that I wouldn't be seeing anyone I knew.
The foundation of Ghanaian culture, and that of most African nations is respect. A child should ALWAYS respect their elders, and their parents the most. I grew up saying "Yes, Dad" and "Yes, Mom" instead of just yes. If you forgot, my parents would keep calling your name you until you remembered, hey- less you forget who it was that was calling you. So being back under Dad's roof, and in Ghana, my level of respect was running high. He wanted me to change, I did. I'll admit, I tend to get a bit uppity when I'm away from my parents in the states and know that I can not be scolded in person. When we arrived at the bus station it was a race to see who would win the right to carry my luggage from the car to the bus. If you come to Ghana, I don't think you'll ever complain about lack of hospitality when your're traveling. Being a porter, at a bus station, is a self-made job here. You win the customer's luggage, you get the tip. Ladies, you'll be sure to win a few suitors in the process as well. I had three, but who's counting. One was even kind enough to sing/rap to me through the window as I sat on the bus. Ghana Hospitality.
The bus ride went as smoothly as 5.5 hours in the same spot can go. No preacher this time, shame. Sharifah advised me to get off at the first main stop, Achimota (Ah-chi-mo-ta) and I was met by a melee of drivers eager to deliver me and my stuff to our destination. Lucky for me I'm cheap and I called Sharifah to ask how much the cab ride should be. ALWAYS have an idea of your trip rate here, if not you will be cheated-o. My Obruni accent causes me to fall victim many times as well. No surprise at all that my driver initially quoted double the fare, but between him talking to Sharifah on the phone and me getting out of the taxi insisting I would not go, the driver and I reached a price we were both happy with-him more than me.
I arrived at he Issaka palace at about 6 pm. Sharifah showed me around and escorted me to my room (guest room all to myself-YUP). My jet-lag was kicking in so I decided to nap. No rest for the weary, my lovely host had a big night out planned for me. We took a taxi to our first destination in the most bustling part of Accra called Osu. It's where most foreigners live and the majority of the bars, restaurants, and clubs are. I got to meet a few of Sharifah's friends, one of which was nice enough to drive us around in his BEAUTIFUL Mercedes-Benz- no complaints here.We ended up going to three separate bars. They were all a little on the empty side but its forgiven, it was a Wednesday after all. The end of the night was my favorite though, we ended up at Chase, a Lebanese restaurant. There are a LOT of Lebanese people in Ghana. After moving out of Saudi 6 years ago, I've searched high and low for a good, authentic, Middle Eastern tasting Shawarma. You would think between LA and NYC I would have found one. NOPE. Low and behold all I had to do was head to Ghana. My taste buds have seriously never been so happy, and I should have ordered two lol. Lucky for me, Sharifah captured it. Lucky for you, you get to share in my Miss Piggy moment.
We arrived to home to a house shrouded in darkness but with the light from my phone and fully charged fans, I wasn't too upset. It had been a successful first and I fell asleep thinking if this is ghana, I can surely get used to it.
Stay tuned for more,
Peace and fufu,
Ohenebaa J ( Queen J)
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