This is No Ordinary Old Lady in Big Girl Panties

Today started out in the usual fashion. About 6AM I woke up to the sounds of my ‘pet’ rooster outside the window, crowing his head off. One day that rooster won’t have a head, or so I would like to believe, but I know he will be replaced with another, so it may as well be him. We have established a long lasting relationship after 6 weeks. It was chilly this morning, so I snuggled down under my sheet and enjoyed the last few minutes of a snooze before it was time for my walk.

My hired car is on the fritz due to some bad gas and today was my day to go to downtown, in a cab, by myself. First off though, was the walk and stop at the local ‘Kinko’s’ where the nice young lady always has my copies prepared neatly, promptly and with a smile. The electricity was off yesterday afternoon so we decided that I could pick them up on my way to Adum in the morning. Got the copies. It was now taxi time. After a deep cleansing breath, I start in. Getting a taxi in the morning here is tricky. There is a special hand gesture, with your index finger out pointing the way you want to go, then a wrist movement that I think only Ghanaians have. Most taxis are full this time of morning and some not going to where I was. I ended up walking past the roundabout in order to get one. No problem, it was still cool and a nice day for a walk, even though I was going to be late.

Finally I get a cab. There was the driver and another man, in the back seat. You know how sometimes you just have ‘a feeling’? I had one. Let me insert here, I have traveled around the world. That does not make me an expert but there are a few things that I know and precautions I always take. Never carry a lot of money, keep your passport and credit cards on your body, if you have a bad feeling go with it or keep your guard up, be sure you have copies of all your documents (passport, credit cards, etc) kept in a safe other place, if you have a purse or back pack always keep it zipped and in the front of you, be aware of your surroundings, and always be ready to scream.

Back to the feeling. I had one which prompted me to mentally go thru scenarios of what to do in case of ___________. You fill in the blank. The traffic was awful. I know the roads to Adum so am familiar with landmarks and things along the way. There is a ‘short cut’ that the driver took. Then a right turn, which was crowded, but not that bad. He suddenly pulled over and said the traffic was too bad and I should get out and find another taxi. Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding…….Insert here, I am not the brightest bulb in the light socket this early in the morning but suddenly could feel the adrenalin kick in. He said there was to be no charge…..ding, ding, ding, ding……and I could NOT get the door open. My first thought, OMG, what if we had an accident. Second thought as the man in the back seat leaned over me (and please, I am from the Mid-West and we from Kansas City LIKE OUR PERSONAL SPACE!!!!!!), my purse. The door opened and in those split seconds of them trying to push me out of the car I checked my purse, which had been zipped and secure in my lap with my arm across it, was NOT zipped! My little attached wallet was out and open, and as a couple of ex-husbands could tell you, when I yell, watch out. I started in at the top of my voice, “You give me my money back, you robbers…you give me my money back now” and I stuck my foot in the door (not bright but hey, it worked only because they were surprised at my sudden yelling and screaming). The ‘street’ sellers converged on the car, God Bless them, and I just kept yelling. By this time my yells also included some words in which my dear Roman Sisters would not approve of, but the words came flying anyway. The street sellers started yelling too. It was a yelling match, total chaos. “Damn it you little ________, give me my ______money NOW!” Don’t know that the Street Sellers were yelling Twi but I can only imagine. The driver told the guy to give up the cash. He did, I grabbed it, still swearing away (not good for International Relations but worked for me at the time) and off they went as that direction was not crowded with traffic.

Now you ask, get the license number. Well, I tried, and if it would have been a Missouri plate where I know the format of the numbers and letters, yes, I could have gotten 4 or 5 out of the 6. Here, no way, I only remember about four 0’s at the start and a 6. Call the police? What police? Where are the police? 911 does not exist. The street sellers were my police. So here I was, in the middle of the street, the nice street sellers apologizing all over the place. My money was safe (I didn’t have a lot but still money), the rest of the contents of my purse accounted for. All was okay. Shaken, scared, and disoriented for a moment, but, you don’t mess with this old lady. I had on my big girl panties! If I could have gotten a nice swift kick in, in a heartbeat I would have. Sorry guys but no mercy at this point.

And now what? Another taxi???? Walk???? Sit on the curb or was there a curb?? Cry? Suddenly I heard a voice speaking in good English. “Madame, Madame, come, come.” Here was a man, in a red truck, with a lady in the passenger seat and an older man in the back. He said, “Are you going to Adum? I will give you a ride if you wish.” Good feeling here, I hopped in the back. He asked what I was doing in Ghana, how long I had been here, and if the robbers had gotten anything. This man also apologized for the behavior of his countrymen.

We sat in traffic, yes my purse was securely tucked away and they were kind enough to allow me my own thoughts and compose myself. Gusty you say? Yes, but no bad feeling this time and it was okay. He let me off by the grocery store close to where I was going. I thanked him for his generosity and kindness.

I have been to Ghana about 4 or 5 times now and this is the first time such an experience has happened. I know it does, it does in my own neighborhood in St. Louis, as we are now the #1 City in the US for crime. BUT, for every very ‘bad’ person, there are many, many more good. Disheartened no, not really. Not surprised either. Violated, somewhat but they didn’t get away with anything, I had done everything I could for prevention and during the attempt had done everything right. One just has to pay attention and trust those feelings.



Besides, this is no ordinary old lady with the big girl panties you are dealing with! They didn’t know that.

Riding Shot Gun

Sorry sorry for no blog post for the past 10 days or so. Since my trip to Tamale I have been quite busy either at the village, in Adum (downtown), getting paperwork for licenses, teaching Pizza Making Class, doing paper work, not to mention a laundry process that is different than ours. Although I must say, Irene and Laurene do have a washer so it isn’t too bad to do.

Riding Shot-Gun- “Riding shotgun refers to the practice of sitting alongside the driver in a moving vehicle. The expression was applied originally to the movie depiction of stagecoaches and wagons in the Wild West, in danger of being robbed or attacked. An employee or passenger would sit beside the driver, carrying a shotgun or rifle, to provide an armed response in case of threat to the cargo or passengers. More recently, the term has been applied to the contest of a group of friends to determine who rides beside the driver in a car. There may be elaborate rules involved in the game. It is also used to mean giving actual or figurative support or aid to someone in a situation or project, i.e. to "watch their back." This definition is from Wikipedia, giving credit where credit is due.

This term occurred to me as I rode in the cabs in Tamale. But I will expand on the term, not only to mean keeping us from being attacked in the cab (ha, fat lot of good I would be in that situation) but to also look at the ‘watch their back’ portion. And to examine that term, let’s think of the US and how they ‘watch the consumer’s back’. For example, seatbelts. There are seatbelts in the cars in Ghana…somewhere, I just have yet to find them. The US is watching our back, by having seatbelts installed in cars and there being laws to use them. If not, you get a ticket. Not so here, I wear a seat belt when with my driver but his car is not a taxi either. I can’t find the seat belts in the taxi. If you look around at the cars on the roads and the people in them, not many people have on seat belts. Along those same lines, infant seats for babes and small children? Have yet to see one in use. I have seen them on the side of the road for sale, but never one in use.

And those darn laws when you are building a house, code enforcement for electrical, plumbing, smoke alarms in your city or town. In Ghana, well, maybe I’m getting old, being a nurse and more concerned about safety, or just used to a safer environment, there are days when I wonder why more car accidents don’t happen, or you don’t hear of people dying in house or building fires that often, although I am sure they do. Example: We are living on the second floor of a 4 family ‘flat’. After the obligatory couple of adjustment days, I began to look around. There are heavy bars on ALL the windows, there is a door into the stairway going upstairs, and a door onto the porch. The door to the porch also has a huge grate that is locked at night, then the door. Robbers you know. Of course, as I thought about it, there is no way to get out in case of a fire…but we don’t have to worry about robbers. At least, that is how it was explained to me by a Ghanaian friend. I have been going to sleep at night these past weeks wondering how to get the heck out of here in case of a fire……let me jump the 2 stories…just get me out!

Back to the vehicles. It is NOT unsual to see a tro-tro (a micro bus from the 60’s) packed with people, babies on mom’s back, the top carrier piled as high as the tro-tro with stuff that is sorta tied down and sorta not, then add about 2 to 4 goats/sheep riding on the top. All that whizzing around a round about that would be virtually impossible for any person in the US to navigate. Let’s so some simple physics. How do they remain upright? I am not Catholic, but do stay with some Catholic sisters and I can say a Hail Mary and Our Father in about 30 seconds as we approach a round about to ask God to get us safely around the round about. I have yet to see a car accident at one though.

Side walks? Humm, maybe I have encountered some in Adum, but they are crammed to the street with vendors. Then there is the open sewer/drainage ditch about 2 ½ feet deep you definitely don’t want to fall into! So you spend your time walking in the street with the cars. A challenge and one must be on their toes all the time.

Another safety issue I see a lot. Barefoot children and broken glass. How those little kids miss the glass I don’t know, but they seem to. As I take my walks each day, the children all come running out of their houses shouting “broni, broni”, in barefeet, with broken glass and it truly amazes me that I don’t have any blood to mop up after all those little feet.

These are just some thoughts and observations. I am not being critical but keeping my eyes open and looking around me. How people live in different parts of the world is a study to me. Children play, adults work, laundry gets done even by hand in streams, food cooks, cars go, people travel, drink water clean or not, ways of life are different yet we all find a way to proceed with our lives. The US society is so busy trying to keep us from hurting ourselves while other societies are busy just trying to exist day to day. I gaze around myself in Ghana in wonderment some days, I think of coming home and gazing around myself in wonderment in the US. How different yet alike we all are.

Galvenized Buckets

Today was a day that will stay in my memory for many years to come. As is said in Ghana, sorry, sorry, I am just writing in Word and will not edit nor correct as I am very tired and want to share my day with you. Right now I am in Tamale, in the northern part of Ghana. Not real far north, but far enough to be different from the Ashante Region. The homes are round with thatched roofs, it is primarily Muslim, more in the country (Tamale is not as big as Kumasi), more laid back (if than can even begin to be possible), red dirt, lots of motorcycles with up to 4, yes that is 4, adults on them without helmets….

I am staying with a new friend named Emelia. She has an organization she is starting to take care of the many orphaned children and the many aged (and I mean aged!) that have little family left. She has provided me with the best of meals, jollif of rice, guinea fowl, a wonderful display for breakfast, a private room with great shower (cold of course), regular toilet, nice big bed, truly the comforts of home.

We got in last evening after a long bus ride; details may or may not be later. The restroom story was the best for sure. But we got in, she had a nice meal prepared, cold water to drink, cold water to shower in, and we talked for about 2 hours afterward. Dropped into bed…up at 6AM

Again, another wonderful meal of oatmeal, fried egg sandwich (very popular here), coffee. And off we went to visit some of her clients. This is where the day really began. At 9 we left the house, it was already hot. We walked to the main road. Oh and before I forget this is the best part. The neighbors down the road have TWO turkeys….Thanksgiving here we come! It will just be a problem of quietly bagging those birds and the bus ride to Kumasi with live turkeys. Then figuring out how to kill and dress them. Well, maybe chicken will do.

So it is hot already but I have my water, toilet paper, peanut butter and jelly, and supplies to do some physical assessments…and my camera. People are VERY particular about taking pictures here. You need to ask permission, so while I have pictures, I only wish I had more of what I saw today. But out of respect, for these people, I understand. We get to the road and hail a cab. Off to visit a family with 3 children, the mother died giving birth to twins (that is common, death in childbirth) and an older child who did not like me at all! Darn scary white lady! This family was kind enough to let me photograph their compound, with the round houses, little round houses for the animals, fires, and a new mom breastfeeding a baby inside a round house. The pole up the center is a tree trunk; say 4 to 6 inches in diameter…then the house build around it and a thatched roof. There is a door and window. Dad had to go get the kiddos out of school. They come back, all on one motorcycle, no helmets. The twins were great, the male child or elder much larger than the female child or second child. The oldest female was the one that didn’t like the white lady, but that is okay, I understand. I checked over the twins…heart, lungs (cough probably from cooking fire smoke), pulse, little tummies. The little boys tummy was quite large and distended…worm’s maybe? The little girl was great. Got pictures. This father is not employed full time, there are probably 3 families, all related, living in this compound. Can I describe it? No…you must be there to hear the sounds, smell the smells, see the clothes hanging, and see the fire heated for dinner with dinner cooking early in the day. But I will say, I have seen poverty in the US…..but nothing, absolutely nothing like this before. And the people, smiling, happy to see me, happy their children are getting a rather cursory check over physically, happy for visitors.

Then off to another home. Another cab, another walk down red dusty roads, smiling people, waving and saying hello. We dodged motorbikes, bicycles, cabs, sheep, goats and cows. ( This is ANOTHER language now…not Twi. I have decided to only learn hello in this language and concentrate on my Twi.) We arrive at another compound similar to the first. The Grandmother greets us and Emelia converses with her for about 20 to 30 minutes (this is done at each stop…socializing and stating your business there). We meet the family there. I am ushered into one of the round houses to see the Grandfather. He is 85 or 90. No one keeps track of birthdates (Muslim primarily, but Christians of this age bracket, or even MY age bracket don’t have a clue about their age. He is ill and I am afraid he might be dying. He has not eaten for 2 or 3 weeks, drinks very little water or tea, is so thin I can put my tiny hands around the calves of his legs. He doesn’t poop often and urine a dark red. One foot is enlarged..he was bitten by 3 snakes on the same foot during his life. I assume the swelling may be due to tissue damage there. His knees are as big as tennis balls and larger from arthritis. I check him over. His BP is running low, about 100 / 60, HR is about 80, lung sounds good. No belly sounds, but he hasn’t eaten. Now this is what disturbs me. He is laying on a cement floor, no mattress, no mat, no sheet, pillow yes,…but nothing else. Yet, he smiles at me as I examine him and asks Emelia to find something to show me. A beat up tennis ball to use to exercise his hands. This, this is one of his few belongings and he is sharing it with me, showing me how to use it and smiling. Wow….at this point, I don’t know whether to smile with him or start crying for the misery he is in. I go with the smile and cover his hands to help him. We have a few moments of fun. Fortunately he is in no pain. I am afraid he will pass away soon.

On to a school. Another taxi, more red dirt, more cows, goats, sheep (and may I add in case you haven’t figured out, droppings in the road to dodge!). This school is wonderful. I was not expecting what I saw. This is a school for children 1 year 2 months to age 6 when the kids start regular school. We get there at recess, and you know 130 kids at recess (oh, by this time is must be 11:30 and if it was hot before, it is hotter now and the headmistress serves us water). There was mass pandemonium, how in the heat, I have not a clue, but you know kids. The headmistress shows me around, a library and they have library on Friday, a crèche or nursery for the little ones up to about age 3, classrooms for the over 3 crows. Suddenly there was total organization in the yard…children putting toys away, rolling up mats, and lining up to wash their hands. The headmistress explains it is back to class. They go to class, the women workers take the towels, and wash them so each time the children wash, which is often, they have a clean towel to use (granted 30 kids may use that towel, but it is clean). We visit the class rooms and am I impressed. The children all sitting at a sorta long desk on a bench. The 5 year olds learning division, spelling in another room….reading in another and these kids are under 6 years old. The behavior is perfect.

Off to visit another older person. This a grandmother to Emelia. Same song with the red dust, cabs, trashy street (PLEASE someone suggest what to do with those plastic bags!!!), poop to dodge, urine smell outside the homes or in the fields, and hotter. But we get to Grandma’s house. She is sitting on the cement porch waiting for us with a huge smile on her face. Again the introductions, conversation and statement of business. A granddaughter (she must be about 25 or so) gets a mat for Grandma who is 95 or 96 they think (this they knew by counting back Chiefs…not the Kansas City Chiefs…tribal chiefs). Heart rate perfecto, lung sounds perfecto, tummy sounds perfecto…some hypertension but hey at 95 it wasn’t that bad…let it go. She has some waist pain….lower back pain. But she is sitting and probably sleeping on a cement floor….and of us would have that too. Then, this was the most interesting, she has a granddaughter bring out her funeral basket. This is my first exposure to a Muslim funeral practices so some of you may be familiar. I do know or think that the burial must take place soon after death and there is no casket. The granddaughter brings out a basket about 3 feet in diameter. Inside there are calabashes (?), pans for bathing her after death, and 3 shrouds that this elderly woman has made! By hand from raw cotton. They are woven strips about 2 inches wide, then hand sewn together. Grandma has the granddaughter get me her spinning tools and proceeds to show me how this is done. The grandson is trying to explain this all to me, and in between profusely thanking me for coming over. Wow…I am humbled, truly humbled by their kindness and sharing of the intamacies of their life with me.

After this, I don’t know. How can anyone on the US say they are poor? I know they are, but these people have no beds, flies all over the place, no clean water, no potties, hardly any food to eat and what they have are carbs no fruit or veggies, mom’s dying giving birth or shortly after, families know their children should go to school and struggling to get them there, kids that are well mannered and well behaved, poop everywhere, urine smell all over the place………Emelia provided me with some experiences that are once in a lifetime. And for that I am grateful. Oh, one last note. Remember the new born babe? Well, when a baby is born that baby gets a new, galvanized bucket for his own. That may be all he/she gets, but it is his, to use for bath, washing clothes, water, or whatever. But THAT is the shower gift. That is the shower gift…a new bucket. Think of that next time you buy one.

So, off to bed. Another busy day tomorrow. Thanks for listening and reading. I wish there were ways to send the smells, the sights the sounds….