Ghana Day 10 032212 White in
Africa
Yesterday we spoke of the difference in
pace between Western and Ghanaian culture. Today, I'd like to
explore a second issue, being white in a black country. As I'm sure
many dark skinned people feel in a white culture, there is no way to
hide skin color. To my knowledge, only Michael Jackson has even
tried to attempt this, and imho, something went terribly wrong with
that process.
We are strangers here, and we stand out
from everyone else. Our skin is fair and burns easily. Our hair is
fine and sometimes long. And we have sometimes have fine hair on our
arms and legs that is unfamiliar. Without even addressing any issues
of racial bias, we just look different.
On a very simple level, the unfamiliar
is interesting, and people are just plain inquisitive. Whites in
Ghana are called “Obruni”, which I think literally means
foreigner, but carries the implication of “one who does not look
normal like us”. I was told, prior to our arrival, that we would
hear the word, I assumed in quieted conversations as we passed by.
Instead, people more or less point and yell “Obruni” at us. The
school children in our local neighborhood, make a kind of
nursery-rhyme chant out of “O – broon – ee, Oh - broon -ee” and over time,
we've come to offer them a high-five to appease them as we break down
thhe barrier of differences. This can sometimes mean an endless
stream of 30 or 40 such interactions as shyer friends come out into
the road from their homes as we pass. We are weird and different and
of great interest, and sometimes I feel like ET walking down the
street. Nothing threatening, but certainly warranting attention.
At our orphanage, where we have had the
chance to build familiarity and extended family, the kids just love
stroking our long hair, and gently running their hands over and over
the hair on my arm, like a blind person exploring a new object.
Similarly, we've found that cutting African hair is a process quite
different from our Western long locks. One woman at a public
transportation tro-tro station was wandering and loudly polling anyone
who would listen, “Does anyone know a stylish who cuts Western
hair?'
There is a ironic double (or maybe
triple) standard at work here, and I'll do my best to try to unravel
it. It is based on a few premises, that result in a confusing
collision of gestures and values.
The first is that Ghanaians are
inherently culturalyl friendly and welcoming. This was one of the
decision points for us deciding to visit this country over several
other choices. In Ghana, if you have something, you help someone who
doesn't. It seems that many, especially in the lower income groups,
do not integrate savings into their aspirations. Their income and
situation largely forces them to live for the short term, hand to
mouth, and day to day. If they should receive the blessing of short
term resources, they are likely to share it with others in need,
believing that in some future time of need, someone will aid them. I
spoke earlier about the cultural need to acknowledge each other and
to greet. This is a land that values human interaction and that is
filled with general good will towards others.
The second point is less positive. As
with any people, physical differences can be interpreted as
threatening, and there is some timidity and puzzlement with
confronting the new and unknown. I suppose, like viewing one's first
solar eclipse or snowstorm, no amount of reading or intellectual
understanding can prepare one for the actual experience. There is a
word in the language for us white folk, but it doesn't begin to cover
the nuances of meeting one in the flesh. Our eyes are not brown, our
skin is fair, our hair is fine and long, and we walk around in a
stupor trying to understand the rules of a different culture, bumping
into norms like a person navigating an unfamiliar room in the dark,
with consequences that range from clumsy to downright inadvertently
offensive.
There is a also history of white people
arriving here from Europe for the past 400 or so years, and
exploiting West Africans, and that promotes a sense of historical
mistrust. This is a land rich in spices, cocoa and gold, as well as
a brisk trade in human slaves for over a century. There is pretty
much no limit to the lengths that European nations have gone to in
the quest to achieve dominance over thhe resources of this region.
Much of it is brutal and wholly historically embarrassing to a person
like me who has been unwittingly saddled with being an ambassador of
whiteness in a land of black skinned people.
Finally, there is is a definite,
knee-jerk association with white people being rich and stupid silly
with handling their money. The Ghanaian economy, like many in rural
America, just operates at a lower, simpler level than that of the
large city. I can get far greater value in services and housing and
goods for my money in my hometown of East Hampton, CT than my son can
in the middle of New York City. Similarly, visiting Westerners don't
have a clue initially just how much value their dollars can buy in
this simpler economy, so otherwise smart people make blatantly stupid
buying decisions. Many marketplace goods are offered at about 500%
over their anticipated sales value. Negotiating is culturally
expected and accepted. Most Westerners are not used to offering 10
cents on the dollar, and in the resultant clash, end up paying
laughable amounts for items without blinking. And so, the “myth”
of wealthy white skinned people is driven one story deeper into the
West African culture.
As an example, we just purchased 5
dozen eggs for about $8 in the local market, 18 pineapples for $4, a
20 mile taxi ride for $2, a custom made dress for $19, and the work
of a mason with two assistants for a full 8 hour day in the hot sun
for about $50. Bottled water is 13 cents a liter, you can rent a
1500 sq ft house for a few hundred dollars a month, and a clean hotel
room with A/C at a resort for $50. Of course, some things are
expensive. My wife, Penny, aptly commented as we drove past a
roadside electronics store, “Now I know where all the tube TVs
ended up!” Computers and furniture (wood is scarce) and appliances
are costly. Fuel is around $8 a gallon. Time is cheap however, and
this abundance of seemingly inexpensive labor and lack of money turns
everyone into a handyman.
Back to the main point. Outsiders from
expensive Western cities are foolhardy with their money. The culture
is inherently welcoming, but white skinned people carry a historical
legacy of suspect behavior. The net result produces a confusing
Ghanaian response. Elder people are warm in their greetings, but can
turn cold quickly when a Westerner makes and unintentional offensive
gesture, perhaps using their left (unclean) hand in greeting.
Street-smart Ghanaiains exploit white tourists by opening with warm
greetings, only to disarm people long enough to steal their wallets
and watches. Similarly, young local men will go to nearly any length
to get the name and phone and address of a white coed. We are
traveling with a beautiful 18 year old young woman who is a
testosterone magnet. She is constantly getting pulled and touched
and approached and invited, as though she is a celebrity making her
way through a sea of fans.
The bottom line is that it is confusing
being white here. Once we've met people, all is well. People are
people, and at our core, regardless of skin color, we are all
interested in the same things – family, health, hopes and dreams.
For the reasons listed above, though, it seems that the average
Ghanaian in commerce, feels like they are walking past a lost
opportunity not to overcharge a white person. I think that there is
a decision-point, that usually goes sour, when interacting with a
white person in a business transaction. It is kind of like that
morality tug of war when you find a hundred dollar bill on the ground
and quickly realize that the person ahead of you at the airport
dropped it. There is the greedy impulse of some kind of windfall
profit, tempered by the higher conscious act of doing the right
thing.
This situation happened to me at JFK
airport in New York, when an Asian gentleman a half dozen steps ahead
of me pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and unknowingly ejected a
flurry of US currency on the the terminal floor behind him. I
stopped him and helped him gather it up and get on his way. Somehow,
I'm longing for that same higher urge to prevail in the Ghanaian
market place with vendors when I shop. I'm still waiting.
In the Ghana neighborhood where we are
staying, just outside of Kasoa, the area was filled with animals.
Most were chickens, leading their young chicks around, families of
goats and a dog every so often. We saw just two cats here in two
weeks. One thing that we noticed is that these animals, although
owned by families, are strictly outdoor animals and seemed to have to
fend for themselves. Most had some visible war wounds, scars, limps,
missing tails and the like. There was a rooster with a bad leg that
greeted us loudly each morning, hopping across the roadside, around
6am as we walked to help with breakfast at our volunteer assignment.
