One of the great things about living here is the ongoing cultural information swap that goes down every day. They teach me. I teach them. Back and forth all day. For instance, today I learned that my I need to write my “6’s” a little more Ghanaian like because they say it looks like a “4.” Though my handwriting gets a little wild sometimes, I assure you they are the most perfect 6’s. Or, like yesterday, learning about the burial traditions of the Konkombas because of my friend Nelson’s mother.
The other day, Emery, the only hopeless romantic in Ghana, was telling me about the engagement customs of his fiancé’s tribe and how much stuff he had to buy for her and her family to seal the engagement. I don’t remember everything, but here are a few things:
-6 6 yard pieces of fabric for dresses for his fiancé
-12 yards of top of the line man fabric for a cloak for her father
-12 pairs of panties (I laughed at this one, mostly because Emery said “panties”) for his lady
-12 bras for the mother in law… just kidding- for his fiancé
-Because the girl’s brothers have supposedly protected her from other suitors so that Mr. Right could come along, they man who eventually gets the girl, Emery in this case, has to buy her brothers new (forgetting the name of the weapon!) they supposedly use to protect her. I think that is more out of tradition than out of necessity… they don’t run around with machetes anymoreJ
-And finally, the ring of course
I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was kind of ridiculous actually, but then I realized how ridiculous of our wedding traditions are too! Man purchases rock far beyond his budget. Man goes into exorbitant amounts of debt but at least his lady has a status symbol. Lady spends thousands on a dress she wears once and also spends an exorbitant amount on the wedding and turns into Bridezilla in the process.
And yet, I still love weddings.
Emery was telling me all this because he began the conversation earlier saying that he and his “lady” as he calls her got in a little argument the night before, and she got very upset with him because he did not consult her on a decision he made for her. He arranged for her to travel to Kumasi instead of staying in Accra where she lives to purchase a ring she doesn’t want.
Cultural info swap. I explained to him the meaning of the expression “DOG HOUSE” and all that implies, and I told him that he where he would be living for the next few days.
By this morning, things were back to normal and she was missing him like crazy.
You should also know that not only is he the only hopeless romantic here, he’s also the only one that makes fun of me, which means he’s the only person in this country who gets the full spectrum of my sass. I always have to be so nice to everyone all the time because they are so nice! That, and people here usually don’t get sarcasm because their sense of humor is just different. I have needed an outlet, and I am thankful I found one.
Today, I was noticing, like I do every day, the colossal cankles I have grown since being here. If I don’t wear tennis shoes that are tight on my feet, my whole foot, especially my ankles, will swell up like a balloon. My ankles have only ever been this large after sprains from basketball.
Today they were especially huge for some reason, so I just had to comment that only pregnant ladies get ankles this big.
Emery turns to me, “You know, I thought something looked different about you when you came in the door this morning. You had that… ‘two weeks pregnant look.’”
“Excuse me? Explain how someone looks ‘TWO weeks pregnant.’ You don’t even know you’re pregnant in two weeks!”
“Well,” he says very matter of factly, “your face gets a little puffy, kind of like yours looks this morning, and their ankles… they look exactly like your ankles.”
That’s when the eyebrow went up and that’s when I started shouting, which is something I really embrace here because people shout all the time, and told him that that was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard and he’s got a lot of nerve telling me I am FAT like I’m “TWO WEEKS PREGNANT!!”
Enter Nelson, who walks in the door right as those words flew out of my mouth.
“OOOO so you found a friend here huh?”
Emery nearly dropped all the malaria slides in his hands he was laughing so hard.
I could have clanked both their heads together. Ridiculous.
I sent Emery right back to the dog house he just came from.
Another surprise today came from none other than the infamous Bob Young. He been working on this roast all day, and had just finished cutting what I assumed to be pork into small slices to serve. He handed me the plate, and I stabbed a few slices, picked up my knife and sawed through it thinking about all the things my dad would say about this piece meat. I indulged on a 12 ounce prime rib the night before I flew out for this very reason… they don’t exactly have juicy, black angus cattle here.
“What do you think?” he asked. It was then I realized he had been looking at me the whole time.
This wasn’t a good sign. I swallowed quickly.
“It’s good.” It wasn’t awful.
“HA! It’s goat! I didn’t want to tell you until I knew you liked it!”
Goat, Bob. Really? May I remind you there are goats, pigs and guinea fowl and garbage EVERYWHERE. I don’t know what else the goats, pigs and guinea fowl have to eat other than garbage or small remnants of all the garbage.
That’s one for the books.
The skin graft is tomorrow!! Dr. Jean explained the whole process to me and I sat there with my head in my hands, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. This is going to be the coolest thing I have ever seen. Pictures to follow!
This was in my mom’s week 6 note and I’d like to pass it on to you:
On the front of the card it says,
“Smooth seas do not make a skillful sailor” (which is an African proverb- nice touch)
On the inside after all the gushy mom stuff, she wrote-
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may over flow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13
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