Three Zero

It’s getting to the end of my birthday week, yes, I choose to consider the whole week a celebration of my existence! This year I enter a new decade, the thirties! Although I’ve displayed only mock horror at this fact, I have had some panicky moments in the past week. My birthday was last Tuesday and I woke up feeling extremely old and tired. Could this be because all sleep training went out the window once we got to London and Em kept me up all night? Probably.

Wednesday, and my joints were feeling a bit stiff and achy, a symptom many geriatrics complain of. Could this be, because I was still adjusting to UK temperatures and again hadn’t slept well? Possibly, but in that moment it felt like my youth truly was gone, forreva!

Saturday night, as I was threading a sewing machine for the first time in two years (why is another looong story), suddenly my 20/20 vision failed me and it took five blurry attempts before the thread made it through the eye. At this point I was really close to breakdown: is this what being thirty means? A few minutes later I remembered that I had been awake for twenty hours and hadn’t eaten for the past twelve of them. Here’s hoping that was the reason, as my perfect vision is extremely precious to me.

Some people get depressed about turning thirty, but I guess I’ve hit most of the milestones that can cause anxiety. Profession, yes, job, yes, home, yes, marriage, yes, children, one. So far, so good. And yet on Friday I felt a slight panic that the fun and wild twenties were over forever, had I made sure I had enough fun? Then I remembered, my twenties have been a blast!


(Pictures from my low key birthday party at Prampram yesterday.)

Timeout Accra

No, I'm not talking about the magazine, Timeout Accra (which I haven't had an opportunity to peek through but hear is quite good), rather I have taken a timeout from Accra and with me, I have my favourite accessory, Em. We're currently chillaxin in Kent (England) at my dad's place. The last few weeks have been extremely hectic and thanks to several months of sleep deprivation I'm completely fatigued so when the chance of spending a week in London came up, I was nowhere close to saying no.

Whilst Em gets a dose of Grandpa, I'm going to enjoy some much needed, a break from household and work responsibilities and of course, a bit of shopping. I think we all at some point feel time running faster than we can keep up with, and when we do, it is important, if possible, to catch our breaths and slow down for a bit. If you can't (or don't want to) make it to London for a week, I'd recommend a weekend break outside Accra, perhaps at Green Turtle Lodge, Stone Lodge or even a night or two at the serene Afia African Village, right in the centre of Accra (Ministries).

And of course if either budget or time is tight, try my old favourite, head to your mama, papa or anyone you know who'll be happy to take you in for some days and relieve you of your daily chores for some days. Mentally, after two days I am already ready to go back, but physically I still need some more sleep and as such, am happy for the days we have left.


In between shopping, resting and relaxing (possibly the most inactive verb!), we're all getting in to the mood for Christmas and thanks to IKEA, it looks like there's a pretty good Swedish Christmas to be had even in the heat of Accra. See you soon!

Ashawo!

I hope the title doesn't offend you (ashawo means whore/prostitute, when one wants to be crude. Originally a Nigerian word, it is the generic term in Ghana now.), but my whole weekend has been tainted by Ashawo.

Firstly I must say it's been a great weekend! After weeks of sleep training, baby finally sleeps through the night and as a result we could get a babysitter (my mama) and go to a friend's birthday dinner at Le Magellan Friday night. When someone after dinner suggested we continue the night at Citizen Kofi, Virgo and I, like the two newly released prisoners we clearly were, screamed in unison "Yay!" (yes,our excitement was rather embarassing). When we got there, just around midnight, we realised that apart from us and a group of girls, there were a few older white men (clearly the target customers) and - you guessed it - ashawo.

After dancing for about an hour they played a song I recognised that I'd been hearing in the past few weeks and of course, when it got to the chorus, I heard what it was - yes - Ashawo! Interestingly, at this point the two prostitutes who had been putting on a nasty, somewhat disjointed mapouka-like show all evening, stood this one out, each suddenly very busy texting away on their phones.


Yesterday, we headed to Tema to what turned out to be the after party of a funeral and whilst waiting for our friend's requested song, the new Slim Buster/Tinny collaboration to play, what did we hear: Ashawo.

The song, an old Nigerian classic from our parents' days, is so catchy in its beat that anybody can end up singing along, if not also dancing. Yesterday, I laughed off a friend's fears that Ashawo might be baby Em's first words the way Virgo continued singing it all day long, however today, I'm slightly concerned. After humming it this afternoon, we got home to hear the same song playing at the drinking spot across the road. Just imagine the reactions of uncles, aunties and the ever present church brigade if at nine months little Em opens her mouth and blurts out:

Ashawo!

Wrong number!

The days are flying by with so much to write but no time to put it down in print. Am I the only one who feels like time is racing to the end of the year?

One thing which has often bothered me is the manners of mistaken callers. Usually they answer the call by screaming: Akos? Akos?! When the response is "sorry, wrong number" the caller hits back by kissing his teeth loudly. I've gotten used to these calls over the years and don't let them upset me anymore. However on Sunday, even I was surprised by the reaction.

I received two calls from a woman screaming "Wula? Wula?!" When I as usual alerted her to the fact that she had called the wrong number, she kissed her teeth and slammed the phone down in my ear. Hmmph.

Later that evening, around 21:30, the same woman called again (unfortunately I feel I have to refrain myself from calling her a lady!). Exasperated, I once again told her, "Sorry, wrong number". Her response (screaming):

Dabi, m'enka enkyere me se eye wrong number! (No, don't tell me it is the wrong number!)


At which point I just laughed and hung up. Later on I wish I had stayed on the line and said "OK, sorry it's not the wrong number, I am Wula, yes everything is great, bla bla bla" and wasted her credit til she realised, it was indeed, the wrong person she was talking to.

Well, at least in the end she put a smile on my face. Silly cow.

*Special thanks to the Poet for helping me write in Twi

Labone

A few years ago I remember complaining about how I missed London's corner shops, the accessibility to everyday products on practically every street corner. What was I talking about?! Clearly, if I had gotten out of my car more often here in Ghana, I would've noticed all our "corner shops".

After getting back to Ghana, and realising that certain things are harder to do with my constant accessory (that's the baby I'm talking about), I've had to give up on some of my regular spots and find other options. For example, for weeks I wondered how I'd coordinate baby and breastfeeding so that I could have my hair braided, something I usually do at Auntie Alice salon. I thought of the long queues there and told myself, surely there's someone in my area who could sort me out with some cornrows.

Then, on my way to a funeral three weeks ago, the zip of my traditional top broke. I panicked for a second before I reassured myself and my mum, that surely, there would be a seamstress somewhere on this or the next road. That day, I asked a girl in the neighbourhood to take the top for me, find a seamstress and bring it back to me once the zip was repaired.

A few days later I finally decided to explore the area myseld, and even I, with my optimistic opinions of our road, was surprised at everything I found. Less than 100 metres from us, there's a seamstress, a hairdresser (who actually agreed to braiding my hair at home, solving all baby related issues), a laundry service, a drinks shop, a newly opened corner store, a fruit & veg stand and of course the local drinking spot that keeps us 'entertained' e-v-e-r-y evening til 1 a.m.

Within a 500 metre radius, there's a pharmacy, dentist, clinic, forex, school, day nursery, restaurant, clothes shops, etc! Granted, Labone isn't exactly in the deepest of forests, but our road looks very quietly residential and in all my almost two years of driving on this road, I had never noticed many of these places.

Well, it's good to know that even without a car, most of the weekly errands can be handled in a 2 or 3 minute walk, this knowledge was especially useful to me as I went car-less all of last week. But that's a whole other story...

All Hallows Eve

The twentyone year old man gets home and hears his father calling erratically. Once he follows his father's voice and locates him in the kitchen, it is already too late. His father is heaped on the floor in an unconcious state. The young man runs to call his mother, who's shopping in town, completely unaware of the tragedy that's taking place at home. She drops her would-be purchases and calls a friend to drive her home as she knows she's unable to safely drive herself home, after hearing the news of her husband's collapse. Little does she know her husband is not only unconcious, he's actually dead.

In just a few seconds, a whole family's life changes forever. The two sons are fatherless, the wife suddenly a widow. And it is not only the family that is affected, by Thursday morning, all his work mates will come to realise what happened that eery afternoon dated 090909.

The news reaches us today, on All Hallows Eve: our good family friend, known to us for about 23 years, and in recent years my brother's colleague, died so suddenly, unexpectedly from a brain hemorrhage on his kitchen floor. His wife cries to my mother, wishing my mother were with her in Sweden as she does not know how she will cope another day.

Already before I heard the news I had decided to abandon Halloween celebrations and rather light a candle for those who have passed on. However, the heat and Labone power cut, stopped me from getting my matches out. Well, if I were to light a candle, today it would be burning for you, Åke. Rest in Peace.

To the rest of you, happy halloween from my own friendly ghost!

WFP Productions: the Poor Ghana Child Show!

My mid-morning browsing today lands me on an article (Swedish) that has made me feel slightly sick. Apparently, at the G8 summit in July, held in Rome, Ghanaian children were flown in to be fed porridge by the wives of G8 leaders (English)!

To show the work the World Food Programme had been doing, they put on this spectacle which also included the children dancing and singing. The whole affair cost approximately (brace yourselves) $500,000! From what I have read so far, these claims are not confirmed by the UN but have been spread by the Swedish development agency, SIDA. Like their own representative says, I too can only hope that it is not completely true.

I don't even want to delve into a discussion on every human's right to dignity, the use of these school children as 'show dogs' for the WFP, etc. but I am now focusing on being annoyed at the fact that so much money was spent on a show of WFP's good work. Talk about defeating your own cause! Imagine the many homes, schools, books, clothes, shoes and food that could have been bought with that money!

Reading Sarah Brown's blog (that's Gordon's wife) gives a different angle of the story. Here the event is captured more as an opportunity for the Ghanaian children to sing and dance for the G8 leaders' wives and for the wives to see first-hand the work that is being done by the WFP. However, I still do not understand why an organisation that is dealing with poverty and how to help those in need would not see it more fit to simply set up a satellite link, Skype or in any other way communicate with a village where their work is being done and allow these wives to experience it live, rather than 'first hand' at such a cost.

(Picture borrowed from SIDA)
I would love to hear your thoughts on this. And whilst I hope your morning got off to a better start, I'm still fuming and wondering:

If so much was spent on flying these schoolchildren all the way to Rome, completely out of their natural scenery, why oh why are they still wearing those distinct yellow/brown uniforms?!

To pierce or not to pierce...?

Over a week of hardly any internet access and so much I've missed to write about! The football! The Ghana@50 inquisition! The Ministry of Foreign Affairs fire! Thankfully Abena has summed up the week quite well. On a personal note I also managed to squeeze in a 2-night sleep in at my mother's in Tema.

Other than that, we (after all, where I go, baby goes) also made it to a funeral last Friday (sans bébé), a wedding last Saturday and another wedding yesterday. These social outings highlighted an irritating unspoken Ghanaian rule:

A baby can only be a girl here if she wears earrings! I had experienced this before, when everybody and anybody would say "what's his name?" or "what a sweet boy!" even though I'd be holding little M in her girly, often pink or purple dresses. But yesterday's experience was almost laughable.

Walking in to the reception of my Law School mate's wedding, another classmate greets me:
"Your baby is so cute, what's the name?"
"It's M".
"Oh, really? I actually have a client, a lady named M, but tell me is it usual to also call boys that?"
"No, she's a girl".
"Oh! I see...But, where are the earrings?!"

And that was just the start of the ridiculous afternoon. Every person who passed or greeted us reacted in the same way. I shouldn't be surprised, I myself don't wear earrings on a day-to-day basis and have received comments about that several times. Older lawyers in court will come up to me and (out of kindness) remind me that I've forgotten to put on earrings today, but I shouldn't worry, the judge will probably not notice that I am naked in the eyes of the court. (Since when are earrings part of a female lawyers court dress code?)

Since M was born, I have considered whether and if so, when to pierce her ears. After a while I settled on doing it around the age of three, and even then, it would be mainly to satisfy Ghanaian society, to make use of the many pretty earrings she has already received as presents and stop her potentially being bullied at school (lol!), as I couldn't care less, whether she goes earringless her whole life or not. But does that mean that I'm going to suffer the next two and a half years hearing these comments? Or the kinder, but equally annoying kind advice on where I can go to have her ears pierced (hospitals, clinics and pharmacies in case you're wondering), in case the problem is that I didnt' know where to find an earpiercer.

I just don't feel comfortable putting tiny earrings in my little girl's ears as she is of the hyper kind, pulls at everything she can hold on too and then puts it all in her mouth (this includes, my own earrings whenever I wear them). Funnily, in Sweden, there wouldn't be a question of her piercing her ears until she might want to do it, probably some time in her teens! What's your take on this strange culture clash?

Blog Action Day: Climate Change

Every year, and sometimes every season, we notice what is happening to the world, how global warming is changing the climate. Last year I wrote about the delayed Harmattan and this year, arriving in Ghana mid-September, I was surprised by the cool, rainy season-like, Julyish temperatures that were still around.

While the Western world and parts of the East adapt their lives to protect our environment, it seems in Africa we're still too busy talking about other issues: war, famine and corruption to name a few.

When are we too going to make the environment a priority? In our case, changes made for the environment are often beneficial to us in other ways too. Changing our toilets to the water-efficient Half-flush/Full-flush system means we can reduce our water use and as a result combat our severe water shortage. Switching to energy lightbulbs (which has already quite effectively been done), lightens the load of the Akosombo Dam, as does an increased use of solar panels for electricity.

During my stay in Sweden this year, my favourite program was the World's Greenest Homes, an inspiring Canadian program that saw the crew visit households across the globe that are using energy efficient means to run their homes. Ghana is a perfect candidate for adopting many of these energy efficient ideas, after all we have enough solar, wind and water energy to power most of our daily household appliances.

While Ghana is producing ethanol to provide Sweden with one third of its ethanol consumption, one must wonder, when will we produce for ourselves? When will we use more environmentally friendly means of transport to travel within the country, instead of flying from Accra to Kumasi or Tamale to Accra?

When, in a country where thanks to the humidity, my kitchen bin naturally turns its contents into compost after being left to stand for a week, will we sort and recycle our waste and use our compost to plant new trees instead of burning our rubbish in plastic bags at the roadside?

Let's pay it forward, to our children, their children and generations to come. Let's do what we can to prevent further climate changes in the future.

Newcomers

Following Kajsa's lead, I too must recommend a new drink. Like with all other things, it's a bit exciting when there's something new in town to taste, try or visit. For me, the latest drink you'll find in my fridge, is Guinness new product: Alvaro. Available in two flavours, Pear and Pineapple, I can tell you that the pear flavour is scrumptious, taste very similar to Swedish Pear cider! The Pineapple flavour I'm sure is lovely too, I'm just not a big fan of pineapple flavoured things (except the fruit itself!).


Another newcomer in town is Lara Mart, located where Sotrek used to be, opposite Bywel's in Osu. It's nice to have another option to Koala in the area, the shop is well stocked, has nice neat aisles, a good meat counter and even stocks Apple Tango!


Customer service in Ghana is a whole topic on its own, but at Laramart I realised the best thing about it: Here, customer service is honest, not falsely friendly or giving well-rehearsed answers. As I drove up to Laramart, just to ask for directions to Sotrek, the security guard happily gave me directions to his employer's competitor and when asked whether Laramart actually had its own meat counter, he said: "yes, but I think Sotrek's is better"! (In my opinion, Laramart's turned out to be better.)

I decided to check out the new supermarket anyway and I was happily surprised. One staffmember approached me, was very helpful without being too forward, but as I made my way to the till, he asked "how do you find our prices, quite expensive isn't it?)!

I love the honesty! However, in both the guard's and the shop attendant's case I think they were wrong. The meat counter was good and the prices, although not cheap, were in the same range as Maxmart, Koala and Shoprite.

That One!!!!

An hour ago I thought it was just a rumour, but after checking BBC's website, I realise it is true: Obama has won the Nobel Peace Prize! Can this man do anything but go from strength to strength?? I doubt that anyone, even a hardcore Obama-fan like myself, could have imagined or foreseen this a year ago.

One of the reasons for selecting him? "Only very rarely has a person to the same extent as Obama captured the world's attention and given its people hope for a better future".

I don't think any further words are needed to describe the uniqueness of Obama. Today I am proud of the world! While Americans (well, about 30% of them) are screaming out against Obama and the proposed healthcare reform, the world is celebrating him for his vision and potential. Isn't it funny that your own people will always be the last to recognise your achievements?

Baby on board

I knew my girl-about-town days would change once I got pregnant and had a baby. Maybe I'd only get out a fraction as often as I used to before and for evening outings I'd have to get hold of a reliable babysitter to take the baby for an hour or two. But a few weeks ago, I waas clearly informed that my out and about days are O-V-E-R until further notice from the bosslady herself (read: baby).

Heading out to see the Black Star as part of the centenary celebrations, I had gotten the most reliable babysitter of them all - my mum. I'd left some boob juice in the fridge, prepared evening porridge and even set up for her nighttim bath before heading out to relax alone with Virgo for the first time in months. After settling in to watch the play, I got a call, probably 25 minutes into the play. I could hear the little one screaming bloody murder as my mum told me to start making my way home.

The journey from National Theatre to Labone has never felt longer, as I could hear her screaming echoing in my head. Once home I ran to the bedroom...and was met by a baby who started smiling as soon as she saw me! A smile that clearly said: think twice before going out without me again. I guess it'll take some longterm gradual weaning before I try another long outing again.

Another clue to that I've been away and been off the social scene, is that I completely missed the opening of Citizen Kofi. After looking blank the first few times it was mentioned, it didn't take me long to understand what it was. This is Ghana after all, not too many places will be opening at the same time. Still, I have no idea when I'll be trying it out, when I'll go for sushi next or even head round the corner for a Twist pizza!

For now, my entertainment consists of visiting friends, having them visit me and daytime ventures to the Mall or checking out All Pure Nature for pampering items for both baby and me.

The Man, the cock, the crow.

There's a cock that's been living on our wall. Lately, it's been crowing louder than ever for longer than ever. A few weeks ago, it got unbearable. My heart would jump and I'd awaken from its loud crow at 2.30 a.m. After the first shock, I got up, slammed the loovers a bit and the cock moved further down the wall, leaving us with a bit of peace.

The next night, it seemed to come back with more strength, first waking baby, then me, then Virgo. Our whole night was ruined, so as you can imagine we were far from happy when the crowing started on the third night. I woke up to find Virgo getting dressed in the middle of the night. After a while, I heard steps in the grass by our window, a cock's yelp, then the scurried steps of a cock running away (Virgo had thrown pebbles in its direction and it had ran away). The rest of the night we slept undisturbed.
Man - 1 Cock - 0

The next night,in a genius move, Virgo went outside our bedroom window as early as 9p.m., chased away the cock, and we actually went to bed smiling.

Man - 2 Cock - 0

We thought we'd found our recipe for success, so Virgo did the same thing the following night, but somehow, by 3a.m. it had forgotten all threats of pebbles being thrown at it and came back crowing louder than ever (after all, it had had a night's rest).
Man - 2 Cock - 1

Still, we thought we'd give our early night pebble chase another go so that night, same old story, a few pebbles were thrown on to the wall outside our bedroom window to get the cock to move down a bit or jump back into the neighbour's yard, where he belongs. However, a stroke of really, really bad luck hit us. The cock mistakenly jumped/fell into our garden and didn't seem able to fly back up on to the wall. This situation made it crow louder and more frequently than ever, and so begun our night of hell with crowing from 10p.m. onwards, til 6a.m.
Man - 2 Cock - 1,000,000!

But now it seems, a cool chic, a hen that hangs out in our garden has managed to walk the crow out of our garden and back to his own land and it hasn't found its way back yet. After those nights of complete hell (after all, do parents of a six-month old really need anything else to keep them up at nights???) we're hoping for a bit of peace.

FIngers crossed!

Kwame Nkrumah: his greatest legacy

I am half Ga, half Akim. My husband is part Ga and part Akuapim. Among my friends and family, one is part Ewe, part Fanti and part Ga, one is part Akuapim and part Ga and another is part Akim and part Ashanti and there’s a whole mixture of Ga, Krobo, Fanti, Akim, Nzema and Hausa. Speaking to other African nationals I realize that this tribal mixing is very unusual outside Ghana.

So what is Nkrumah’s greatest legacy? In my opinion it is breaking our tribal barriers. In his quest for panafricanism, he had to first break tribal barriers before breaking national distinctions. By transferring civil servants to places in the country that they had no tribal link to, e.g. sending an Ashanti to Accra, a Ga to Koforidua and a Fanti to Tamale, tribal interaction was forced on Ghanaians. A young Fanti who’d been stationed in Tamale for four years would sooner or later look for a spouse and marry out of his tribe.

In addition, the system of boarding schools meant that at an early age, pupils would learn not to discriminate along tribal lines, after all a student at one of Ghana’s boarding schools, e.g. Aburi or Mfanstipim would easily find that at least three other tribes were represented in his class. At reaching university age, most pupils would have a close friend or girlfriend/boyfriend of a different tribe and many would have learnt more than a few phrases in a language other than their own tribe’s.

In a time when Ghana stands happily among few of the African countries that has not experienced a civil war, as so many others have in the past and present, we must be eternally grateful to Osagyefo for this legacy.

(Picture from my great-aunt's album. Like Abena, I have so many questions to ask about it, but now I can't stop wondering, is there a picture of Kwame Nkurmah in every family album?)

And although it seems some insist on trying to re-introduce tribalism, I dare say it’ll be hard to start a tribal conflict here. After all, if there’s a war between Gas and Akans, which side do I stand on? My situation is not unique, look around you and you’ll find that most of those around you belong to more than one tribe.

For that, Kwame Nkrumah, we thank you.

Kwame Nkrumah: Nkrumah never dies!

Yesterday I asked 'what exactly are we celebrating this coming week?' We have our Independence day, Republic day, etc. so how come we’re also celebrating the birthday of a man who’s been dead for 37 years? My conclusion is that that in itself shows the greatness of the man?!

Those alive during Nkrumah’s time tell me of his charisma and popularity. This is a man who was more of a celebrity than a head of State.
“Kwame Nkrumah - show boy”, “I want to see Kwame Nkrumah – show boy!” the Makola women would chant when they saw him in person, heard his speeches, or at any time they felt like it.

My older family members inform me that when Nkrumah spoke on the radio, people would rush to hear and there would be complete silence whilst he was on air. They often remember getting goosebumps as his eloquence pierced through the airwaves and caught the attention of each person in the listening crowds.

(picture borrowed from panafricanperspective)

The Young Pioneers, Nkrumah’s youth supporters (see Poet's excellent definition of them here, would cheer “Nkrumah never dies!”. This later became an everyday expression and it seems, is still true today, Nkrumah never dies!

As I write, I am surprisingly reminded of this fact. How? Microsoft Word spell-check recognizes Nkrumah in its vocabulary!