I live! With Photographic Proof!

Whooo! Hello again from Kumasi, friends.
WITH PHOTOS! OH SNAP!

After two weeks in the village, we have returned. While I enjoyed Benim, I am glad to be back in civilization. Or, more accurately, what I have adjusted my standards to deem "civilization" once again.
We're staying in Lizzie's Hotel (where I had a horrible experience before-- no light in the bathroom or bedroom, no lock, no anything... bad night.) but I remain hopeful this time will be better. We take of tomorrow morning at 7(ish) so we can drive the 7 estimated hours to Tamale, where we will spend another week. Tamale, they tell us, is hella hot. Literally every time the name Tamale is mentioned, the staff goes "Oooooh! There it is very hot", before recounting some horror story from a previous year where all the students on the busride up got heatsickness and vomited all over everything, ever.
I've found the staff is full of a lot of stories of that calibur.

My freckles have decided to multiply in numbers I have never seen before. The consistant sunlight around the Equator can do that, I guess. Regardless, at one point in the village I was identified simply for my freckles. Jokingly, for a day I became "Freckles O'Bruni, whitest kid in the village". It was a pretty awesome day.

But yes! About that village!
It's name is Benim, called for a palm frond discovered by the founder that had many nuts but no wicks(?). The actual name for the non-wick many nutted palm frond is actually, as you might imagine, quite longer. But it starts with Be Nima... something something, and has become Benim. It was the largest of the villages SIT students stayed at, numbering between 500 and 1000 people. There were also three schools (two public, one private) so there was never a shortage of children. When we first got there, after unloading our luggage from the trotro on stroids that took us to Benim, a gaggle of children came running across the school lawn screaming, "OBRUNI!" They followed us to the SIT headquarters in Benim, a house belonging to an older woman we came to know as Nana, and really never left. If there was a single consistancy throughout my stay in Benim, it was the presence of children.
We would be sitting on sofas, reading, and they would slowly leak into the room. Every time I looked up, they had doubled in size. And not for the entertainment the Obruni was providing, because I assure you reading "Things Fall Apart" was to myself, not some kind of organized reading. I would sit on the sofa, regard the chilren, keep reading, look up again at their doubled size, shudder slightly, keep reading, and so on. Some were consistantly there, like Pricilla and Nana Yaw (called Nana, a title of respect, at a young age because he was named for The Honorable Nana Yaw, and it seems disrespectful to refer to the child, named for the great man, without the title of greatness), while others such as Soloman and Mabina were guest stars in the odd little melodrama of "follow the Obruni and get in her way whenever possible".
It actually took a couple of days before my village-mates (Isabel, Mara, Natalie, and Amanda) and I wondered why the kids weren't in school. And that's when we were informed that in Ghana, although public schools are free for everyone, the children aren't really forced to stay in school. Because the teachers are payed for their work, regardless of graduation rates, test scores, or what-have-you, the children can just leave class at any time if they so wish. The teachers aren't reviewed, aren't fired, and are given free reign to do whatever they want. Amanda worked in a school for her mini ISP, and one time the teacher left in the middle of the day to take a nap, while Amanda did what she could. So if you want your child to get an education where they LEARN, you have to send them to a private school. Private schools cost from one to two cidis a day (one cidi is about .60 or .70 cents), which many families just can't afford. Still, all that being said, the children genuinely enjoy school and try to keep with it as long as they can. So that, at least, is good.

Benim had the same red-earth color that was so prevalant in Accra. While it felt drier, there were more plants than I had seen before, and at times the dirt roads erupted into violent patches of green grass(!). It was almost comical, really, the way the grass grew among the dirt and sand of the roads. The buildings were concrete, mostly, with open air courtyards and tin roofs. The courtyards (almost the entire population of Benim lives in compound-style living) each held large oil barrles, cleaned out and used to collect rain for clean water. The first eight days we had consistant rain at night, but for the remaining six days we had water shortages due to the dry spell. Clean water was hard to come by, so everyone had to do without bucket showers and use as little water as possible. That's one thing I've really come to appreciate-- clean and safe water. It's so readily available (faucets! Taps! Bottles!) back at home, but here it's a legitimate concern. You plan how you use each bucket of water, because it's not always certain when the next one will be available.
I stayed in the SIT headquarters, with Nana and her grandson Nana Yaw. Nana Yaw, having hosted Obrunis in the past, was more than willing to spend time with us, posing for the camera and asking for gifts and being a bit of a spoiled brat. His mother, Cicily, is twenty years old. She had Nana Yaw when she was sixteen. She farms, but lives in the house as well. For the most part I didn't interact with the family in the house (we all had meals together in the house, cooked by Auntie Grace, and I was mostly with my village-mates) as much as I could have, but they had a busy schedule. The times I DID help around the house (sweeping was mostly my job), they laughed good-naturedly at me for doing such a horrible job. Nana, however unintentionally, was hilarious. She spoke no English, but didn't allow that to stop her from chatting at us most of the time. She also enjoyed walking around topless. She's maybe 70? One time I came around the corner to find Nana, naked as the day she was born. I made a loud noise in suprise, and she kept asking me why I was startled (in Twi). Stammering for a response while trying to hide my burning eyes, I told her I'd seen a large bug and got the hell outta dodge.
Food was made for us by Auntie Grace, but one night we got to cook for her. Deemed "American Night" on our schedule, we had to work together to brainstorm a meal, cook it, and serve it to our Ghanian hosts. We decided on Veggie Burgers with Yam Chips and Guacamole. Basically the most American you can get when working with Ghanian ingredients. We made veggie burgers out of beans, curry, and assorted veggies. We pounded them into patties. After that we cut Yam (or Cassava, or Coco Yam, the only difference being where the Yam is grown) into thinish slices and fried them in oil. The Guac was made without tomatoes or onions (as Amanda dislikes both of those), but still good nonetheless. I was in charge of frying up the yam chips, which took about 12 minutes per batch. Fun times. In the end, though, we produced a pretty tasty meal and all went to bed having eaten far too much.

For my mini ISP, I wove Kente Cloth. A traditional Ashante cloth, it was originally made in only Black and White because they lacked the dyes to color anything brightly. After imported dyes came, however, yellow and red became the staple colors of Kente. Hand woven in long and thin strips, many Kente Cloths are sewed together to make a large Kente Blanket, worn by chiefs and for formal Ghanian events as a sign of wealth and prominance. The patterns are colorful and varied, but always have the gold base. The man I learned from has been weaving for twenty years and was an apprentice for three. He built the loom he weaves on himself, and does so to suppliment his income. He is a farmer by trade.

I wove with him for a week, but I was only working the loom for three days. It is a hard process, Kente. You have to weave the bobbin in every other row in addition to the smaller, more fragile, strings that make the pattern on the red-and-green base. I also had the problem of tension, as when I drew the slam shield (my name for it, not the actual term, have no fear) back to tighten the new row, I couldn't keep it even. So as my patterns progressed everything started leaning slightly to the left. And then more to the left. And then my Master had to take over the loom to fix it. Whoops!
I had a great time weaving. I made two cloths, which is pretty impressive for three days of work. For an Obruni. When Nana Ogau (Kente Master) weaves, it takes him three days to complete an entire cloth (much longer than the one I was weaving) of the hardest and most difficult pattern. It takes an entire day to string the loom properly. So my weaving, with all its intricacy (compare: Kindergardner's Crayon drawing to a Klimt painting) he could do in an afternoon. Regardless, I was lerning and I am damn proud of my little scraps. Hell to the yes.

We've done drumming here a couple of times (once was in Accra, pictured, as formal lessons, once was in Kumasi as a part of our Drumming/Dancing class, but more of the focus was on Dancing), but it was really fun to be in the village and actually be able to make out the beats they used, and then follow them. The music here is polyrythem, so unlike our straightforward European music, many things go on at once, and to the untrained ear (like my own), it sounds like nothing matches up. It actually all fits together, but more on a circular method than an exactly determined one. It's very hard to explain. Regardless, I got to do a bit of drumming in the village (I don't completely suck! Win!) and everyone at least appreciates it when I try to participate, instead of sitting it out or just watching. Even if I butcher their music, at least I'm trying! Yay!

One of the most interesting parts was the expectancy of the villagers for us to give them gifts. Itw as only something that became readily apparant at the end, but it was worth noting nonetheless. We want to help the village out, and indeed when we get back we are going to raise money at our schools to help Benim build a library, but we weren't ready for the sheer bluntness of some of the villagers. Today, after coming back from giving Nana Ogau a gift for teaching me to weave, I met some people in the street for the first time. Because I (obviously) stick out in the village setting, it is not uncommon for people to yell at me and start a conversation. Usually they are short, thanks to my limited knowledge of Twi, but when walking through the paths of Benim I was consistantly hailed with calls of "Obruni! E te seyn?" {Obruni, how are you?}. In Ghana, when you are greeted, it is very rude not to respond at all. So at times, when I walked along the more popoulated paths, a trip of 5 minutes could take me 40 minutes, due to greetings alone. In any case, this morning before I left I was walking back and encountered a group of men for the first time. After the obligatory greeting, I informed them that it was my last morning in Benim. They responded with, "That's sad. So what are you giving me?". They have come to expect gifts and favors and, frankly, money from Obrunis simply because they are Obrunis. We were also given, durning our stay, a list of things that the elders of Benim requested for the school, from us. As a donation. That we didn't ask about. That they wanted by the time we left.
It just makes me sad that that's the most they expect from visitors-- money.
There's more to say about the village, but I'm afraid I'm running low on time.

I am especially excited to go to Tamale because of the day excursions we'll take. One is to go see the Sahara, and on the way stop at a Crocodile pond famous for the number of Crocodiles in it. You can pay to ride them and to feed a live(!!) chicken to them. I would feel bad about this except for the fact that on this trip I have consistantly been awakened by roosters crowing at 4 in the morning. Therefore, I think of it less as cruelty and more as Kharma.
The other trip is to an Elephant park, where we'll hike around the National Park and see Lions, Elephants, Giraffe, Hippos, and all those African Friends, as well as possibly ride an Elephant. Soooo excited.

I'll have internet in Tamale (so they say), so hopefully I'll keep up with the blog. I hope everyone at Colby had a nice Fall Break, and that everyone else had a nice Columbus Day! Keep making safe decisions!

Love,
Freckles O'Bruni
(Lo)