What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine.
I'm not too proud to admit this, but I'm maybe a little overprotective of my belongings. When I was growing up, if I loaned a book to someone and it came back with some of the pages wrinkled, it would earn my unending wrath. And I have nothing but scorn for those who decide they'd rather pick at my entree than order their own.
That doesn't fly so much in Ghana.
From the moment I came to my site, I was surrounded by people giving me things. People come to my house with mangoes, coconuts, plantains, buckets of peanuts, more tomatoes than I can reasonably eat. If someone is eating or drinking something and I happen to walk by, they more or less insist that I take some. I visited the Queen Mother a few weeks ago and left with a giant bucket of peanuts. People treat this like no big deal, but it really does improve my quality of life to have random portions of food handed to me every week or so. I think I've mentioned before that the market is not super easy to access, so having food handed to me makes my life a lot easier.
Of course, then when I do go to market, people want me to bring them things back. As I ride my bike out of the community, a dozen or more people will yell after me, "Adzovi! Bring me bread!" And then as I ride back in the evening, every person I pass will yell, "Adzo! Where is my bread?" Usually I respond that I've eaten all the bread. Sometimes I tell them a lion took it.
So the bread thing is mostly joking around. But sometimes, people ask for things and are totally serious. I can't eat outside anymore because when I do, I'll be swarmed by kids and adults asking for a bite. If I cooked for a crowd, that would be no big deal, but usually I make portions for one. Once, it was too hot to eat inside, so I rode my bike a couple of miles outside the community and ate by the side of the road so I could enjoy some peace and quiet.
I know I'm getting at least a little more integrated though because I'm no longer feeling so resistant to being a part of the culture of sharing in my community. I used to buy and make just enough food for myself. Now, I tend to buy what I need plus a little more. Things in my garden are coming in, and I love that I'm able to reciprocate by sharing my produce with people in my community.
The culture of sharing here isn't really optional. If you fall on hard times here, you can't rely on a government safety net to pull you out. You rely on your brothers and sisters. In a way, when people share, they're paying into the best insurance system available in the village. Share a little now, and when your day comes, people will share with you.
It's not just food that's shared. There's very little space, at least in rural Ghana, that could be called "private." People spend most of the day outside in communal spaces, and even when they're inside, most houses and rooms are full of people coming and going. No one would ever dream of giving a baby its own bedroom. On the only public transportation that's readily available, people's bodies overlap, and it isn't too surprising if someone thrusts a baby into your lap.
I don't want to sound like a cliche, here, but I think I'm going to have to. The people I've met here, who have very, very little, are more generous than I am, who have never wanted for anything. I'm trying to learn to be that way, too.
That doesn't fly so much in Ghana.
From the moment I came to my site, I was surrounded by people giving me things. People come to my house with mangoes, coconuts, plantains, buckets of peanuts, more tomatoes than I can reasonably eat. If someone is eating or drinking something and I happen to walk by, they more or less insist that I take some. I visited the Queen Mother a few weeks ago and left with a giant bucket of peanuts. People treat this like no big deal, but it really does improve my quality of life to have random portions of food handed to me every week or so. I think I've mentioned before that the market is not super easy to access, so having food handed to me makes my life a lot easier.
 |
| Two of my little buddies helping in my garden. I paid in nail polish. |
Of course, then when I do go to market, people want me to bring them things back. As I ride my bike out of the community, a dozen or more people will yell after me, "Adzovi! Bring me bread!" And then as I ride back in the evening, every person I pass will yell, "Adzo! Where is my bread?" Usually I respond that I've eaten all the bread. Sometimes I tell them a lion took it.
So the bread thing is mostly joking around. But sometimes, people ask for things and are totally serious. I can't eat outside anymore because when I do, I'll be swarmed by kids and adults asking for a bite. If I cooked for a crowd, that would be no big deal, but usually I make portions for one. Once, it was too hot to eat inside, so I rode my bike a couple of miles outside the community and ate by the side of the road so I could enjoy some peace and quiet.
 |
| Preparing communal food for a funeral...some time soon, I'll make a whole post about funerals, because they are really something. |
I know I'm getting at least a little more integrated though because I'm no longer feeling so resistant to being a part of the culture of sharing in my community. I used to buy and make just enough food for myself. Now, I tend to buy what I need plus a little more. Things in my garden are coming in, and I love that I'm able to reciprocate by sharing my produce with people in my community.
 |
| Family members cooking together. |
The culture of sharing here isn't really optional. If you fall on hard times here, you can't rely on a government safety net to pull you out. You rely on your brothers and sisters. In a way, when people share, they're paying into the best insurance system available in the village. Share a little now, and when your day comes, people will share with you.
It's not just food that's shared. There's very little space, at least in rural Ghana, that could be called "private." People spend most of the day outside in communal spaces, and even when they're inside, most houses and rooms are full of people coming and going. No one would ever dream of giving a baby its own bedroom. On the only public transportation that's readily available, people's bodies overlap, and it isn't too surprising if someone thrusts a baby into your lap.
I don't want to sound like a cliche, here, but I think I'm going to have to. The people I've met here, who have very, very little, are more generous than I am, who have never wanted for anything. I'm trying to learn to be that way, too.
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