Ghana's official language is English. Of course, as I mentioned before, there are many people who don't speak much English, generally anyone without an education only speaks the local language - which can be any one of many: Twi, Ga, Fante, etc. This would lead you to think that when someone speaks English, it would come as a relief -- we can understand each other!! But then, you haven't heard the English. It requires more concentration and translating skills than you have to muster upon calling customer service and being rerouted to India. I'd like to indulge you with a sample conversation that might take place on any given day:
Shawna: Hi!
Amelia: Fine.
Shawna: How do I get to the market? I need to buy coffee.
Amelia: The milk is small.
(are we talking in code now? the cow sleeps at night. over.)
Shawna: I'm sorry?
Amelia: The milk is small.
Shawna: I need coffee.
Amelia: You take milk with your tea?
Shawna: Coffee.
Amelia: You said?
Shawna: Yes, I take milk in my coffee.
Amelia: Ok, you must also pick milk, it is small.
Shawna: OH! It is finished?
Amelia: Somehow.
Shawna: Uh, ok. How can I get to the market?
Amelia: You want to pass to town?
Shawna: Yes.
Amelia: Ok, unless you pick a taxi and alight at the lorry station getting to the castle.
(long pause while Shawna waits for the rest of that sentence)
Shawna: Thank you.
Amelia: Thank you too. Bruni bye-bye!
In case anyone travels to Ghana anytime soon, I'd like to furnish you with some insights into a few of these discrepancies.
1. "Unless." The other day, I asked Ben when the watertruck would be coming by, and he said that it comes by daily, but not today. "Unless you get some tomorrow." So, if I get some tomorrow, it WILL come today? No, he just means that I have to get some tomorrow. When I asked if the district offices were far, he said no, "unless you will go with me." THEN it's far? Also, I've been needing earplugs. Where can I find some? "We don't have any in Elmina, unless you can get them in Cape Coast." So the next time someone else goes to Cape Coast, can they just PRETEND to buy earplugs, so they will magically appear for me in Elmina?
2. When someone doesn't have something, or a supply runs out, it is said to be "finished." So, if I'm at the market, and I ask if the lady has any tomatoes, and she doesn't, she'd say "The tomatoes are finished." Great! Can i have one? What were they doing? Were you shining them or something? Now, this might seem straightforward after you got over the initial confusion, but the real misunderstandings sneak up on you. Say it's dinner time, and you ask if the stew is ready. The cook says, "The stew is finished!" At this point, you might be inclined to sit down and wait for a serving but you'd be waiting till tomorrow because everyone already ate it all.
3. Probably my favorite, for a number of reasons... "I am coming." This means everything, and is heard atleast 20 times a day, maybe more. It is usually said, "Please, I am coming." What it means is "wait here, I'm about to do something." A common situation would entail handing over payment that requires some change, whereupon the person will look at the money, look at you, look around, and then say "please, I am coming" before walking briskly away. Sometimes I am tempted to say "You are GOING" but I never do. When I first got here, I remember asking Amelia if she needed help with dinner, and she said "ok, I am coming." Well, I was standing about a foot from her face, she couldn't really come any closer. So she kept bustling around the kitchen, and after about five minutes I asked again, which caused her to sputter, "yes, ok, I am COMING!" This went on for awhile, her working faster and faster and me being more and more obnoxious, following her everywhere helplessly because maybe she was leading me to where I could help? But this only made her more exasperated at the impatient obruni, because she really meant, "Wait there while I finish everything and then I'll tell you if I can find something miniscule enough for you to do. But probably not." In a nutshell, the phrase "Please, I am coming" generally foreshadows the impending departure of the speaker.
4. Then of course, there's the English. The English from England, I mean. You know how normally, when you're talking to someone who doesn't understand much English, your language suddenly morphs into the shortest possible words and simplified grammar? Just like I wouldn't understand Romeo and Juliet directly translated to Spanish, but if you tell me that "He loves her" I'll get the general idea. Well here, it's opposite day every day because those bloody British colonists didn't pass on normal words, they chose the most proper verbage they could come up with. So instead of learning the meaning of "car" or "hello" they decided to be fancy and teach them things like "Lorry" and "Fine morning." If you use a short word, like "Hi!" people assume you're saying something longer and just talking fast, so the most common response to "hi" is "fine, thank you." One of my favorites is taxis -- the driver may not understand more than four words of English, but after finally decoding what you're babbling on about when you say crazy things like "here please" or "stop please" or "out here!" he'll pull over and inquire, "you'll alight here?" Why, yes kind sir, cheerio. Generally, if you're not getting your point across using confusing words like "go", just take a moment to think of the word that Shakespeare or your lit major friend would use if they had a thesaurus handy and were trying to sound brilliant, and the person will suddenly come alive with understanding. Sometimes it helps to pretend you're in a period drama. One day, I got a cab and instead of saying "I am going to Chapel Square," just for kicks I lifted my chin and ammended it to "Fine morning! I fancy a lift to Chapel square!" Which resulted in approving nods and smiles from everyone in the cab. So that's a fun game to play.
5. You can't "get" things from people or places, you have to "pick" them. Like you'd pick a number, or pick your nose. For example, "I must pick a taxi to Cape Coast." I instinctively picture some sort of furtive activity: "Rice? You can pick it from the stand up the road." Quickly, when they're not looking.
Anyways, this could go on forever but I'll do you a favor and cut it there. New ones come up literally every day. Yesterday, Victor, one of the teachers, told me I looked "smart," while moving his arms like he was jogging, and after much conversation we eventually determined that "smart" meant I had a lot of energy. When I explained that to Americans, smart usually means intelligent, he laughed and wondered how someone could look intelligent - that wouldn't make any sense. Exactly my point. Victor teaches English to the primary kids.
More news on the school coming soon!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Malaria and Friendliness
Things have been moving right along, now that school is in session. The teachers and Headmaster Ben are trying out an intense new plan, expanding the night classes for the oldest students -- to help them better prepare for their upcoming exam (which determines if they will be accepted to high school). It will be interesting to observe the progress made -- it is just a trial period, and a new frontier for all of us.
The students and community are getting used to me, slowly. Increasingly, I'm greeted with "Madam Shawna!" (the madam part is still weird) instead of "BRUNI!" (white person)... Sometimes, walking in town, a child will instinctively fire off an "OBRUNI" yell, and then upon closer inspection realize it's me, and revise it to "Madam Shawna!" Much better.
Teacher turnover is a constant problem at private schools here in Ghana, one that the trainings and incentives offered by Tomorrow's Stars is helping. Many of the teachers work for a couple of years after high school to save up money for University, and then up and leave when they find out they're accepted in the middle of the term -- leaving classes without teachers, and headmasters scrambling to replace them. Tomorrow's Stars incentives program is doing a great job though, increasing their pay for every year they stay with the school. Progress is slow, but so is everything else in tropical Africa!
My lack of contact with the outside world recently has been due to a little bout with malaria. Don't worry, I'm fine, the doctor confirms that I will live. However, this lovely debilitating sickness brings me to my next point: Ghanaian hospitality. How, you ask? Read on, my friends.
It all started on a normal Saturday, at a beach hostel far from Elmina. I had just started my quest to find a "share taxi" for the last leg of my journey. Share taxis are great because they usually cost somewhere between 20 and 50 cents, and travel certain predetermined routes, stopping along the way to drop people off and pick new ones up. It is the life ambition of the taxi driver to keep the cab full at all times: this means two people in the front passenger seat, and at least four in back. (Yesterday I was lucky seat #2 in back when in climbed a (LARGE) woman with a baby on her back and another rotund girl dressed for school. The baby lady took over half my lap, baby playing with my nose.) So anyways, Ghanaian hospitality rule #1: they are generally honest people who rarely try to rip you off. Case in point: first guy I approached, asking where I could find a share taxi to my destination, replied that he'd drive me for $4.00 and there ARE no share taxis that go there, just ask anyone. As I was contorting my face into a "WHAAAAAT?!?!?!" formation, some OTHER cab driver who overheard the conversation came up and lightly tapped me on the shoulder, pointed to his almost full share taxi, and says "Let's go." HAHA in your FACE, mean guy! Ghana looks out for you.
Ghanaian hospitality rule #2: they are incredibly helpful and caring people. So Saturday night, when I was suddenly reduced to a sweaty shaking feverish aching ball of hopelessness rocking back and forth with chills and a headache from somewhere you don't want to visit, the entire Ghanaian staff of the (fully booked) guesthouse was there, offering everything from blankets to advil, free of charge. When I checked out, they wrote down advice and instructions, refused payment for anything they'd given me for my illness, and walked me to a cab.
Everyone really is over-the-top nice, which is suprisingly hard to adjust to at first! When every second person wants to "take you as my friend," it's hard to believe that there is no ulterior motive involved. Now granted, money is often the ulterior motive...but sometimes people are just plain nice, and want you to enjoy their country. In fact, sometimes they're too nice and don't know when to just leave you alone. And I'm not talking about the interrogations that have led me to create a fictional husband and two lovely children that I sadly had to leave at home (in case you're wondering, their names are Bruticus, Stewie, and Bianca, respectively), I mean innocent non-marraige proposal scenarios. Sometimes, and I never thought I'd say this, but even just another friendship can be too much. And now, the final example you've all been waiting for.
Tuesday, I went to the "hospital" to get tested for malaria. I have a huge fear of needles generally, so that fear expands exponentially when I'm in a third world country with a questionably trained, WAY-too-smiley guy collecting my blood. Keep in mind, this is a hospital, most people are visibly miserable, THIRD-WORLD-miserable, can barely muster the strength to hoist themselves from their wooden benches, and certainly have no urge to strike up a bubbly conversation with their practitioner. So sadistically happy needle man sits me down, and after i glance over to insure that yes, good, he IS unwrapping a new needle, I quickly avery my eyes as he plunges it into my arm. Halfway through the process, he idly goes, "Shaaaw-naa." (people often read or repeat my name aloud because they have never heard it before) "Yes," I squeaked, still looking the other way. Then, vial half full, needle still sucking my arm dry, he goes, "I would like to take you as my friend!!!"
I rest my case. :)
I will leave you all with my favorite non-Jesus/God/Holy Ghost sign so far:
"Don't Mind Your Wife Bar"
Miss you all!
The students and community are getting used to me, slowly. Increasingly, I'm greeted with "Madam Shawna!" (the madam part is still weird) instead of "BRUNI!" (white person)... Sometimes, walking in town, a child will instinctively fire off an "OBRUNI" yell, and then upon closer inspection realize it's me, and revise it to "Madam Shawna!" Much better.
Teacher turnover is a constant problem at private schools here in Ghana, one that the trainings and incentives offered by Tomorrow's Stars is helping. Many of the teachers work for a couple of years after high school to save up money for University, and then up and leave when they find out they're accepted in the middle of the term -- leaving classes without teachers, and headmasters scrambling to replace them. Tomorrow's Stars incentives program is doing a great job though, increasing their pay for every year they stay with the school. Progress is slow, but so is everything else in tropical Africa!
My lack of contact with the outside world recently has been due to a little bout with malaria. Don't worry, I'm fine, the doctor confirms that I will live. However, this lovely debilitating sickness brings me to my next point: Ghanaian hospitality. How, you ask? Read on, my friends.
It all started on a normal Saturday, at a beach hostel far from Elmina. I had just started my quest to find a "share taxi" for the last leg of my journey. Share taxis are great because they usually cost somewhere between 20 and 50 cents, and travel certain predetermined routes, stopping along the way to drop people off and pick new ones up. It is the life ambition of the taxi driver to keep the cab full at all times: this means two people in the front passenger seat, and at least four in back. (Yesterday I was lucky seat #2 in back when in climbed a (LARGE) woman with a baby on her back and another rotund girl dressed for school. The baby lady took over half my lap, baby playing with my nose.) So anyways, Ghanaian hospitality rule #1: they are generally honest people who rarely try to rip you off. Case in point: first guy I approached, asking where I could find a share taxi to my destination, replied that he'd drive me for $4.00 and there ARE no share taxis that go there, just ask anyone. As I was contorting my face into a "WHAAAAAT?!?!?!" formation, some OTHER cab driver who overheard the conversation came up and lightly tapped me on the shoulder, pointed to his almost full share taxi, and says "Let's go." HAHA in your FACE, mean guy! Ghana looks out for you.
Ghanaian hospitality rule #2: they are incredibly helpful and caring people. So Saturday night, when I was suddenly reduced to a sweaty shaking feverish aching ball of hopelessness rocking back and forth with chills and a headache from somewhere you don't want to visit, the entire Ghanaian staff of the (fully booked) guesthouse was there, offering everything from blankets to advil, free of charge. When I checked out, they wrote down advice and instructions, refused payment for anything they'd given me for my illness, and walked me to a cab.
Everyone really is over-the-top nice, which is suprisingly hard to adjust to at first! When every second person wants to "take you as my friend," it's hard to believe that there is no ulterior motive involved. Now granted, money is often the ulterior motive...but sometimes people are just plain nice, and want you to enjoy their country. In fact, sometimes they're too nice and don't know when to just leave you alone. And I'm not talking about the interrogations that have led me to create a fictional husband and two lovely children that I sadly had to leave at home (in case you're wondering, their names are Bruticus, Stewie, and Bianca, respectively), I mean innocent non-marraige proposal scenarios. Sometimes, and I never thought I'd say this, but even just another friendship can be too much. And now, the final example you've all been waiting for.
Tuesday, I went to the "hospital" to get tested for malaria. I have a huge fear of needles generally, so that fear expands exponentially when I'm in a third world country with a questionably trained, WAY-too-smiley guy collecting my blood. Keep in mind, this is a hospital, most people are visibly miserable, THIRD-WORLD-miserable, can barely muster the strength to hoist themselves from their wooden benches, and certainly have no urge to strike up a bubbly conversation with their practitioner. So sadistically happy needle man sits me down, and after i glance over to insure that yes, good, he IS unwrapping a new needle, I quickly avery my eyes as he plunges it into my arm. Halfway through the process, he idly goes, "Shaaaw-naa." (people often read or repeat my name aloud because they have never heard it before) "Yes," I squeaked, still looking the other way. Then, vial half full, needle still sucking my arm dry, he goes, "I would like to take you as my friend!!!"
I rest my case. :)
I will leave you all with my favorite non-Jesus/God/Holy Ghost sign so far:
"Don't Mind Your Wife Bar"
Miss you all!
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