Tales of Terror

This week went pretty smoothly –really.

Classes have continued to be fun and interesting, even though there are stacks and stacks of readings, and the due dates for our assignments are starting to loom dangerously near overhead. The week itself was fairly uneventful.

This weekend we had our first NGO (that’s Non-Government Organization) fair, where representatives from the various organizations told us about their work and the placements available for us should we choose to work with them. One that caught my eye was called Hope for Future Generations (HFFG), but I’m trying not to make up my mind about anything until we see a few more options. There was also one called Trashy Bags, whose work you can look at and read about here, that I thought was really interesting, but I have no skill in design and/or visual art, so I wouldn’t qualify for the internship that they’re offering.

After the fair, I went with my friend Sarah to get coffee with a political sciences and archaeology (interesting combination, I know) student that I met on campus. He was really interesting to talk to. We mostly talked about politics and the upcoming election, but we also talked about the distinct lack of funding for arts at the University of Ghana. I think he may have designs on Sarah, but he might have just been fascinated by her red hair. All in all, it was a very pleasant afternoon.

We then went to the central Bank of Ghana, where we met a friend of my dad’s named Carmencita. Her driver, John, who was very friendly, picked us up from campus and showed us to the Ghana Stock Exchange, as well as the Library at the central bank. We had a nice chat with the librarian, and everyone there was very impressed with our limited knowledge of Twi.

From there we went right across the street to the Mövenpick to get some cake to have for dessert. It was completely surreal. The lobby was massive and everything was polished and beautiful. We looked around a little while Carmencita dealt with the baker. There were at least two swimming pools with beautiful terraces all around, and a poolside bar with a big screen TV, and corridors with boutiques branching off the lobby selling everything from toothbrushes to diamond necklaces. The opulence of everything came in very stark contrast to the Ghana that we’d been experiencing for the last few weeks. It was here, Carmencita told us, that she likes to have Sunday brunch, because they have very nice sushi. It was a mind-blowing experience.

After this little adventure, we went to Carmencita’s home, which was also quite extravagant. It was provided for her by her employer because of the huge difficulties associated with finding accommodation in Accra. It’s not uncommon here for landlords to demand a two or more year lease, with rent paid up front in full. Though she lives alone, with her dog Hope, she has a five bedroom home that is very tastefully furnished. She has a backup generator, and has invited Sarah and me to camp out at her place if we ever need some peace and quiet, or if our power goes out. She offered this multiple times, presumably to convince us that she was being sincere and not just being polite. She is such a wonderfully kind woman, I am so happy to have her as a contact here in Accra. We had dinner with her and one of her friends, Alberta, who works at the Bank of Ghana’s IMF (International Monetary Fund) liaison desk. She was so friendly; it was really a great time having dinner with them. We were talking and laughing and eating for hours.

 And the cake was absolutely heavenly. It was a chocolate mousse cake. Sweets can be very hard to find in Ghana, as most Ghanaians don’t have much of a sweet tooth, and dairy products are rare and expensive, due to problems with refrigeration given the frequent power outages. Mostly people have little cans of condensed milk that they put in tea, coffee (of the instant variety that is almost exclusively available), porridge, and milo. Milo is a kind of chocolate-type beverage, very similar to ovaltine, which can be had hot or cold. I quite like it. Anyway, the whole evening felt like a little vacation from real life.

So, of course, when we came back, real life had to make up for lost time.

On Saturday morning, I was gently woken by the gospel music playing from somewhere outside my window at the leisurely hour of 4:00AM at a soothing billion and a half decibels. This was perfectly acceptable, of course, because anyone who wasn’t already in a Mosque at that time was both awake and devoutly Christian anyways, except for Katie and I. I lay in bed and experienced a little bit of what they call “obruni rage” for a few hours.

“Obruni” is a Twi word that literally translates to “stranger,” but can be used to address any white (or Asian, or otherwise non-Ghanaian-looking) person. I’m not exactly sure what the social tone of this word is. I know it’s perfectly acceptable for children to call me this, and I am sometimes addressed as Obruni by the elderly as well, but as far as I can tell, it’s not really okay for my peers to call me this unless they are my friends and are clearly joking around.

“Obruni rage” is used to reference symptoms of culture shock that everyone experiences when they more to a new place, specifically the frustration and irrational anger that’s sometimes felt when things feel very foreign. Certainly, the noise etiquette of this neighbourhood was extremely frustrating and foreign at 4:00 that morning. Finally, with the combination of earplugs that I saved from the flight over and my huge pink Skullcrusher headphones I was able to block out the music enough to fall back asleep, though even then it was still audible.

When we got up, we had breakfast and did laundry, which seems to be the routine for Saturday mornings. While we were doing our laundry, my youngest host-brother, Nana, was playing in the little yard around us. I use “yard” to refer to the concrete courtyard that connects the three houses in our family compound, all enclosed by the main gate. Somehow in his playing, Nana took a bit of a tumble. I didn’t see it, I just heard the thunk as he fell. He seemed to be okay, though there was some confusion for a while. He managed to tear open a pretty serious gash on his big toe, but otherwise appeared to be fine. Automatically, I went to get my first aid kit, and after Auntie had cleaned the cut with some kind of chemical that I didn’t recognize, I offered some Polysporin and one of the fun fingertip band-aids that I brought with me.

Now, I’m not too squeamish when it comes to blood and gore. Looking at the gash didn’t bother me. Having to touch the wound as I applied the polysporin didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that Nana, as two year olds do, was screaming and struggling the whole time that I was trying to help. It was heartbreaking for me, as I am so seldom around small children, but with the way he was twitching I was really scared that I was going to accidentally push the torn skin back as I dabbed on the polysporin. It was fairly traumatizing. Luckily, Auntie (as my host-mother likes to be called) was holding Nana’s foot while I put on the band-aid.

Needless to say, that was a rather stressful situation for me.

My next tale of terror actually happened this morning while I was having my shower. The worst things always happen in the shower. I had just started washing my hair, and was generally minding my own business, when I felt something on my leg. At first, I thought it was a hair that just felt like it was moving because of the water flow. Unfortunately, when that is the case, it’s a downward movement, not an upward movement. In the span of about half a second I came to this conclusion, looked down, squealed, and brushed a centipede/millipede kind of bug that was about four inches long, off of my calf.

Luckily, at this point most of the family had gone to church, so it was only Katie who heard my little scream of horror and subsequent jibblies. Now, I’m not really fond of insect life, especially when it’s inside, but I’m usually pretty good at keeping my voice down when I see a bug, and I can generally deal with them myself, if I have to, with minimal flipping-out. For example, a few days ago at dinner, there was a spider on the wall, whom I have named Polyp. This is because the spider was (including legs) about the size of a tennis ball, and looked almost exactly like the nasty exploding squid monster things called Polyps from Gears of War 3. I didn’t even start when I saw this spider, and continued to eat my dinner in peace, watching it as it moved back and forth on the wall, each of us just minding our own business.  

This Polyp is just a baby. It was only about the size of my thumb.

There is one distinct exception to this rule, however, and that is when I’m in the shower. I don’t know why, exactly, but it always seems so much more horrific when there is a bug in the shower. Consequently, if I do find a bug in my house, it always seems to be when I’m in the shower. They always seem to come after me when I’m naked and vulnerable. It’s like they stake the place out just to pounce on me.

Anyway, after jumping out of the shower (and my skin), I managed to use my shoe to squash it and the cup that we shower with to wash the thing down the drain. After some commiseration and sympathy from Katie, I resumed my shower, cursing vehemently.

This right here is a monster just like the millipede that attacked me in the shower. This was actually taken in the classroom at the Institute of African Studies, but it's roughly the same size and shape. 

Again, luckily, I was so freaked out by this course of events that I had my eye on the drain, because the nasty thing crawled up out of the drain again. Apparently, although it was squashed, it was not dead. So, of course, I freaked out once again, and pounded it into mush with my shoe. When it was no longer recognizable as anything resembling a living organism, I once again washed the wretched mush down the drain.

This occurred at about seven this morning, and I am still freaking out a little bit.

Hopefully I’ll get over this, and I’ll be able to feel safe in my shower again. For now though, I’ve got my head on a swivel the whole time. 

I've finally given in and made my way to the biggest internet cafe in Accra: Busy Internet. It is air conditioned, and nice, and it costs roughly a dollar for an hour of reliable internet. It's not the fastest internet in the world, but it's consistent, which is a godsend after fighting with my little expresso internet stick day in and day out. It works on campus fairly well, but almost never connects to the internet for more than half a second when I'm in my room. It's extremely frustrating. 

Anyway, I have two papers due every week for the next three weeks that desperately need my attention. I'll try to get a good chunk of them due today so that I can get back to my adventures. As always, I'll keep you posted!