I have written a time or two about a short trip I took to Ghana almost a decade ago, but I am now seeing current-day Accra (the capital) through the eyes of my public health worker daughter, who is living there and working on a malaria project for several months. Her journal has captivated me, both for her cultural insights and the hilarity (from afar) of her daily life and the inevitable adjustments that she has had to make. Without further preamble, let me introduce K and a few amusing snippets from her writings:
On Fabric and Food
Since I arrived in Accra in late August, I have been keeping a journal that is more-or-less a chronological account of my days and weeks here, interspersed with some commentary on the excitement, frustration, awe, and unfamiliarity associated with new people, places, and ways of life. In that respect, my journal entries are not a perfect match for my Mom’s blog – that is, a compilation of very organized entries, with anecdotes that are neatly tied together by a central theme that is never tired and never forced. I can’t promise any of those things, but since she graciously agreed to let my words coexist with hers, I will do my best to follow suit. Here, I have taken snippets from my journal about my two most frequently-described topics – fabric and food – to give you a taste for the stories that surround them and for how they make my heart and belly full, respectively.
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9/1. So I heard about expats having cheese parties abroad. Exclusive cheese parties. Who wants to share their cheese with 30 random people when you could share it with 10? Well, at the A&C Mall, which I visited 3 times today, the cheese was plentiful! I should have known better. The feta cheese I bought has a very unfortunate taste. I would be thrilled to share it with as many people as would be willing to eat it … I also took the moment to ask if we could stop for a few groceries, and I again, ended up with the weirdest basket of foods, including feta cheese, none of which I ended up eating tonight because the healthy things all required washing and I am JUST NOT READY to sabotage my diarrhea-less day with diarrhea yet. I did get the water boiler hook-up from the nice lady who works at my apartment, so now at least I know I can boil enough water so that I can dump excessive amounts of it onto fruits and vegetables without feeling as guilty about wasting bottles of water.
9/3. Cindy, a friend from school, introduced me to a tailor she has been using named Eleanor, who has her own store in Osu where you can pick out your own fabrics and clothing design. She was hilarious, radiant, and beautifully adorned with her masterful work and many brightly-colored accessories.
9/4. I identified a beautiful fabric dress that I want. Fridays in the office are for traditional Ghanaian clothing rather than business attire, and I totally want to get into that! Missed the boat this week and wore a red and black dress (here, red and black together means you’re going to a funeral…).
9/6. At work, I wrote down some basic expressions in Twi and practiced them, and I successfully put in my first food order at work (jollof rice). According to Wikipedia, it’s “the progenitor of the Louisianan dish jambalaya,” and that’s a pretty good description. For 10 GH₵ ($2.50), it was my lunch, dinner, and I still have more in my fridge at home.
9/8. Mary, the receptionist, is good about remembering what I have eaten and thinking of something new I can try, so we decided together that today was kenkey day. Kenkey is this huge sourdough dumpling made from ground corn. It is super dense, and it is served with hot pepper sauce and fried fish. This sounded okay to me, not great, but when the time came to eat, Lucy, the woman who buys the food, pulled out a whole fish, eyes included, and flopped it onto my plate. She then showed me how to peel the leaves covering the kenkey, and when I involved my left hand, she pushed it away and said, “No, use right hand.” Theresa was eating it across from me so she showed me how to take some of the kenkey off the ball and rub it between my fingers to get it to the right consistency, and then to dip it into the hot pepper. Again, everyone was amused by this. I asked if I ate the fish with my hands, too, and people laughed again like “Obviously!” The hot pepper was extremely hot, and it was too much to eat in large quantities. Another colleague, Theresa, said, “Get her some gravy; she can’t eat that,” while Mary was dumping less spicy sauce from someone else’s plate onto mine and marking the line I shouldn’t cross for spiciness sake. My boss, John, was piling my plate with his fried yams and sweet potatoes (like French fries!), and saying “Eat these, you won’t be able to eat much of this (the pepper) yet.” Another woman walked in, glanced at me, jaw dropped, and went, “Is this safe?” I felt like a little alien worthy of protection.
9/10. I actually ate vegetables!! Well, on top of noodles (this is the starchiest life), and had my first sip of alcohol in a while. They were out of wine, so I tried their Club beer, which kind of tasted skunked. (Little did I know that’s just how it tastes.) Elizabeth, my new Ghanaian friend, ordered a Smirnoff ice, which was so funny to me. I told her about the American custom of “icing” someone and she thought it was funny but also didn’t really understand, which totally makes sense.
9/11. I stopped in Woodin, the popular fabric store, and finally made myself buy something. I have been so indecisive about these fabrics, and I think I just need to try out the process and see how the first piece of clothing I have made turns out. The salesperson was extremely friendly, and I asked him a million really dumb questions about fabrics and made him help me choose which one to buy, and he happily obliged.
9/12. Today, I ate white rice with red sauce and a hard-boiled egg. Mysteriously, this is the only food I’ve heard of without a local name. I was told, you are eating “plain rice.” Good to know. I also sampled someone’s waakye, which is rice and beans, with pieces of pasta, garri (crushed cassava), and Shito (black pepper). Everyone was packed in the lunch room at the same time today, eating with their hands, some standing up, and everyone sort of seemed to get a kick out of my confusion. I ask a lot of questions about the food because they seem to like explaining it, and it helps me, you know, bond.
9/15. On Wednesday, the three of us ladies went out to lunch and ate sandwiches. Bliss. My sandwich had four carrot flakes, two miniature tomato slices, and a sprinkle of lettuce. I’m starting to feel about vegetables here like Mom felt about paper products in Tibet – overdose on them whenever possible because you never know when they’ll appear next. I practically sing aloud when I see an onion in my jollof rice, plain rice, or fried rice. Rice, rice, rice, onion, rice, repeat.
9/18. We left for Makola market, the overwhelming but famous Saturday local market in Accra. It was hectic and hot and there was everything under the sun, including live snails, but we stuck to fabrics, and I came home with two more, which I can’t wait to (someday) convert to clothes.
9/19. On Saturday morning, I vowed to use the shared kitchen at my place. I carried my eggs and olive oil and plate across the compound and into the kitchen. Alas, I could not light the damn burner. Someone said I needed a match. Another person said I just needed to adjust the gas tank. Either way, I’m afraid I will blow myself up before I eat an egg safely.
9/25. We all had non-instant coffee, a rare treat, and my friend Emily and I agree that is was the best and worst part of our day. It actually felt like a drug, rejuvenating me with every delicious sip, but hours later the two of us were seriously over-caffeinated just from the one cup and our arms and legs felt weak and twitchy the whole rest of the day.
9/29. First, they took us to my colleague Robert’s wife’s shop in a rather faraway location, and I had my measurements taken and handed over my beautiful fabric to have a dress made. I felt oddly sad giving it away, knowing it would not return to me in its perfect, unaltered state. Then Mary wanted to also stop at her friend’s shop, so we made another out-of-the-way stop, and I was lucky I had brought another fabric with me. This tailor measured me (in a much more intense, full-body way, including a nipple-to-nipple measurement that was in no way necessary for a skirt), and I handed over the other precious two yards I had unfolded, held up to my body, and refolded innumerable times. I exchanged phone numbers with both tailors and then texted them pictures of ladies I found on Google images whose clothing I wanted to imitate.
9/29. We stopped beforehand at Woodin so Emily could grab some last minute gifts, and the Osu location has way more fabrics, and I felt super addicted and emotionally unstable in response to this addiction that resulted in oohing and aweing and pining over fabrics that I can’t justify buying.
10/2. I got my dress back!! Robert delivered it to me by way of his wife, and as I held it up to myself, he expressed doubt that it would fit right. He was right. It was huge in the chest and totally gaping, but I still felt I had to model it for everyone, so I got to experience the joy of a group of colleagues tugging at the fabric over my chest, commenting on the flatness of my chest, and Robert taking up-close pictures of my chest to send to his wife so she could redo it. At one point, Robert was intently assessing the fit, and Mary slapped his hand away from me. He wasn’t making me uncomfortable, but it was cute to watch her stick up for me. I was sad to see the dress leave my possession again, but it came back, along with my skirt from the other tailor, and now they both fit, and I’m all set for African dress Fridays!
10/4. This weekend, I went to the obruni (white person) market (that’s what my friends call this market which draws mostly expats) on my own and bought some gifts and used the tailor I had met my first week, Eleanor, for my final fabric to be made into a shirt. The crafts are good there, but I find the obrunis consistently annoying, paler than ever, and loud. They fiend after the one and only bagel stand in Accra, and they shout at each other in jarring accents (I can’t even identify where such a voice would come from), which forces me to cringe politely into their round, burnt faces.
10/5. Since there is nothing else going on in my life this week, I will discuss the common expression used when you are eating and someone else enters the room – “You are invited.” This confused the heck out of me when I first got here. I would walk into the kitchen for a glass of water, and Mary would be eating unidentified meats for breakfast and she would say, “You are invited.” Huh? I smiled and nodded but then just walked away thinking I had probably done the rudest thing ever. Then, the next few times, I would walk in on someone eating, and they would say it without even raising their head or looking at me. Today, John was starting a late lunch as we joined a conference call together, and he said as we received the Skype call, “You are invited to my lunch.” Eventually, I realized (and got confirmation) that it’s just something people say out of courtesy but it doesn’t mean you have to join them, or watch them eat, or help them eat their unidentified meats.
10/9. Jack, one of the roommates and band members, arranged for a spit pig to be served through his local coworker’s family member, and we savagely sliced this pig apart for dinner, which we ate outside in the pouring rain.
10/17. When I got back, Donald and Samuel, who work at my apartment, were eating dinner in the bar and invited me to join. They were eating big hunks of pork, and I was full from dinner, but I tried to identify a small bite to be polite when they offered me some. Once I popped it in my mouth, I realized it was not going to be pretty. It was so tough, and they were asking me questions and I could not respond because my mouth was having to work hard on this very intense-tasting fresh pig with so much un-chewable fat. I told them, “Gimme five minutes,” which they thought was funny, but then five minutes later, when I was still “hiding” the huge un-chewable fat chunk in my cheek, I had to come clean and tell them I didn’t know what to do about it. Donald rolled his eyes and said to Samuel, “Get her a napkin,” and I tried to own the spitting out motion like I wasn’t the total obruni I am.
10/18. I started my day by picking up my shirt from Eleanor. She sells her stuff at the expat market each month, but otherwise you just go to her house. She is really successful – not just doing business in her neighborhood but totally catering to the expat community, too, and even starting to show her clothes internationally within West Africa. So I headed off on my own to meet this lady, and she lived in a little neighborhood so close to the beach you could smell and feel the water. She met me outside close to noon looking sleepy and of course wearing some African print shorts. When I walked into her house, fabric was draped over everything. It reminded me of what it would be like to go into an artist’s home and to find paintings and paint everywhere. She showed me to the showroom, and while she adjusted the shirt she had made for me, I shopped around. I don’t know why I’m such a fiend for these clothes – I literally ripped my own off in this stranger’s house and put as many dresses as I could find on myself.
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I can now happily say I’m going African print strong, with five bright pieces of clothing lining my makeshift closet and two more fabrics lying dormant in my arsenal, awaiting their beautiful, affordable final form. While I may have beat indecision when it comes to fabric shopping and tailoring, I am still learning how to integrate fashion with food; understanding how to enjoy the dense, fried, caloric, starchy foods and still fitting comfortably into my never-even-slightly-stretchy prints has been a challenge I’ve yet to overcome. I still have a long way to go when it comes to adjusting to my life with one foot out the door, but I’m lucky I have a pretty solid role model who reminds me why I’m doing it.
Curt Mekemson said:
Sounds like Peace Corps life to me Lex. It was ever so long ago when I was a Volunteer in Liberia, but some things never seem to change. Jollof rice was one of my favorites. And Africa was where I came to love really hot foods, a love that I still have. And my first chicken dinner. I hadn’t had chicken anything since I had left the States. I asked a young man to get us a chicken while I was traveling, assuming that it would be cleaned and plucked, waiting in my refrigerator. It was waiting alright— roosting on my stove. Give your daughter my best. If she wants to read about my adventures, she can download my book: “The Bush Devil Ate Sam” on Amazon. Looking forward to more. –Curt
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lexklein said:
Curt, I bet this would bring back lots of western Africa memories! Her stint will not be nearly as long as yours, but some of the learning and acclimating process is certainly similar. She’s been so upbeat and positive about everything. I keep thinking that as experienced a traveler as I am, I’m not sure I could/would have done as good a job as she has in really settling in somewhere that different. I’ll alert her about your book!
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Curt Mekemson said:
Absolutely, Lex. There is always a steep learning curve in another culture, especially the first time out. –Curt
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Alison and Don said:
Amazing experience! I felt quite transported to Africa – I love all these little details of adjusting to the life there K. Wonderfully told, and I *love* your dress – absolutely gorgeous.
Alison
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lexklein said:
I so appreciate that “my” readers have embraced K’s little post about life so far in Ghana! Your sweet comment means a lot to me, and I know Kate will feel good seeing the nice feedback as well. I love her journal entries so much that I just had to ask her to share a few!
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Alison and Don said:
I’m glad you did. It was fascinating.
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badfish said:
Africa…it scares me. K has her mother”s flare for writing, and perhaps fabric? It’s funny how when you’re in a foreign land, how easily you become…ingrained into that culture, become a part of it. OR…you don’t and you fly the freak out of there. I love the way she is adapting. Tell her that she can buy a Steripen…a gizmo small enough to carry when you hike w/backpack that purifies water. Much easier, quicker, and safer, than boiling. I have a collection of 12 water bottles filled with pure water, then refill as needed with newly purified water. Also, using that water and baking soda is a good way to clean vegies.
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lexklein said:
Good idea on the Steripen! I wonder if she could find one there, though. I get that Africa in general can seem scarier than some other places; it has a whole different level of physical and emotional discomfort sometimes, but really, she is very lucky to be based in Accra, a stable, friendly, fairly developed big city. Compared with some other assignments, she is in Africa Lite! And I am grateful!
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badfish said:
Africa Lite…love it. Lucky!
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CompassAndCamera said:
Lex and K! Wow, I absolutely LOVE this collaboration between you both! This was such a fun read and so easy to relate to for anyone who has lived or traveled extensively abroad. Especially the food! We all feel so foreign at first, but eventually find our way to our favorite dishes, and make valuable discoveries (like your love of the textiles) along the way. Brilliant post. Can’t wait to read more!
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lexklein said:
Oh Kelly, thanks for the really nice comments! I eat up her journal every time she makes a post, and I thought some of my virtual travel buddies would enjoy it, too, so I’m glad to hear reading about someone else was entertaining!
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Mabel Kwong said:
Quite a few accounts of your daughter’s time so far in Ghana. Great sense of humour and understanding from the co-workers and acquaintances all round. The Kenkey eating post was hilarious, like everyone was pitching in making sure the expat had enough to eat and could actually eat it. It is very heart warming to read how the locals are very open and perfectly okay with sharing food intimately, even scooping sauces from each other’s plate and grabbing each other food for them (sort of like children but it is all in good faith). I don’t know if that happens too much in Western culture where one usually scoops sauces for themselves. In my Chinese family, we are certainly not shy about doing this.
LOL at the piece of pork that was still being chewed for five minutes. It won in the end. It really could have just been one piece of tough meat. Congrats on getting an African outfit for Fridays in Ghana to your daughter. Looks like a good fit after it got resized. From these entries, it sounds like fabrics are everyone and I’m guessing tailor-making clothes is rather common over there. Unique fashion that fits and doesn’t go to waste 🙂
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lexklein said:
Thanks for reading and commenting, Mabel! Both of those experiences you highlighted – the kenkey and pork eating – were things that really made me laugh when she wrote them. Of course, it’s easy to laugh from right here in my kenkey- and pork-free house, but she has also had such a great attitude toward these food challenges!
Yes, I think buying fabric and then getting clothes made is a very big thing there. She is having so much fun with it, but was laughing the other day thinking about where she might be able to wear all these colorful outfits once she comes back home!
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Mabel Kwong said:
You are right in saying your daughter is a good sport when trying local food. Even when it’s too spicy, she keeps going with it. You know, I’m guessing she would have kept trying to eat the spicy food had the others at the table not stepped in 😀
Your daughter can always wear them on the weekend, or when she is doing the grocery run. Such colourful outfits would bring cheer to others doing such a mundane task 😀
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oregongirlaroundtheworld said:
I LOVE this. Beautifully honestly written and perfectly shared. I feel a book in the making. Those fabrics are soo happy and lovely and it was so fun to travel along and see the successful result. Cheers and tell your daughter thank you! Cheers from Copenhagen, Erin
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Erin! I wondered if my readers would find her observations as fun as I have, and it sounds like they have! Her journal is my new favorite reading, and she just pulled out lots of food and fabric-related snippets to share here since those two things sort of dominate her learning curve there. (Well, her job does, too, but that’s a whole other topic!) Thanks for your really nice feedback! 🙂
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LaVagabonde said:
I love her attitude. I can especially relate to the instant coffee and cringeworthy expat parties. The dress is awesome.
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lexklein said:
Her attitude amazes me sometimes. I feel like I’m a good traveler, but other than a short time in Spain, I’ve never lived anywhere else long-term or had to acclimate and adjust to anywhere that foreign. In a very short time, she was tired of some of the more obnoxious expats, even as she occasionally sought them out just for a brief interlude of Westernness. Instant coffee – worst thing ever; do you know some people actually prefer it?! I adore all the things she’s had made – all very colorful and unique, and the stories of the tailors poking and prodding her have cracked me up too.
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Jane Lurie said:
Oh, to be young! Loved the stories of adventure and acclimation. The “pork chew” made me smile. You must be very proud, Lex.
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lexklein said:
Yes, youth does allow for a bit more flexibility and malleability in new situations, and I am proud of her for that, for her not-always-easy choice of work, and most of all for her sense of humor about it all. She’s a keeper!
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The Snow Melts Somewhere said:
Lovely journal entries, I really did enjoy this post so much! Loved reading about her adapting to daily life in Ghana. Could read much more of this, too! 🙂
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lexklein said:
Thank you! I’m gratified to see that others have found someone else’s daughter’s ponderings fun to read also … I’ll have to let her know she needs to do a recurring series! 🙂
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The Snow Melts Somewhere said:
Hope she does! 😊
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dave ply said:
Looks like K is a chip off the old block – no doubt a life of adventure is in the offing. I don’t know what would take more nerve, to try all the local foods from who knows what source, or to wear a loud African print.
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lexklein said:
That made me laugh out loud, Dave. I’d wear a loud African print every single day if I didn’t have to try all the weird foods. Actually, I’d wear a loud African print for no reason at all!
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dave ply said:
Whereas for me wearing my one Hawaiian shirt is going out on a limb. So much for being the adventurous sort. 😉
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Green Global Trek said:
As my nephew is going to be spending time in Ghana and I noticed this as one f your countries in your archives…I came here for a read. And SO happy I did. I love how your daughter writes…the style, the tone, the content. Fascinating and delightful. Is she still working there?
Peta
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lexklein said:
She is actually finishing up in the next two weeks. Bummer – because she has made so many friends (both local and expats, in their 20s and 30s, mostly) and they are all lots of fun to be around. If your nephew will be mainly in Accra and wants any local connections, I can ask her if she can help him out!
What will he be doing there? She is in public health – working on a big malaria project – so many of her friends are in that field or other NGO-type positions. And thanks for the compliments on her little piece. I love reading her journal, which is much farther-ranging and often truly hilarious!
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Green Global Trek said:
I am not sure exactly, but I believe he bought a piece of land. He is a young South African lawyer and would eventually like to live there from what I understand. He may be happy for the contacts… thank you. (Petakaplan@hotmail.com and I can forward to him, or connect them directly….)
Public health is such a great field, so needed in so many different parts of the world. I wonder where she will be working next?
So well written and interesting to read.
Peta
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lexklein said:
Sent you an email message!
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lisadorenfest said:
So sad to hear her Ghana tour has come to an end. Did she take on with another NGO?
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lexklein said:
She’s now with a public heath consulting firm in DC, working on a Gates-funded HIV project in Malawi! I’d love to tag along on that one – she says it’s gorgeous there!
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lisadorenfest said:
Hi K, I missed this when it was first published but I am delighted to have found it now. Your mother has raised you well and you have definitely picked up her talent (and ability to make me laugh out loud) with words. I hope to read more stories about your life in Ghana, Here I thought that I was living an exotic life traveling the world under sail. But I have not submerged myself into any culture to the extent that you have in Ghana and I envy and marvel at the richness of your experience. I am also having fabric envy. As a color addict, I think I could go broke quickly with material like that in offer at the market. Look forward to seeing your next guest post or visiting your blog if you have one now 👍
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lexklein said:
Sent this along to her since she is lazy about checking back on my blog – haha! She will enjoy hearing about your fabric obsession also!
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lisadorenfest said:
Oooo – I wonder what fabric finds she might have in Malawi
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