Day 20 - On Markets, Americanized and Otherwise

[Note from the future: American readers, happy Independence Day! I'll be hiking Machu Picchu tomorrow (thanks, blog-post scheduler for allowing me to share this from the past), so I'm adventuring in high-altitude Cuzco today, but have a wonderful reasonable-altitude day for both of us!]

Thursday, March 31 – Day 20

Sophie, Emily, Niki, and I spent the morning on an excursion to Makola Market, the so-called “Cultural Market” in central Accra. We left at 6:30 AM in an attempt to beat traffic, but failed miserably on that count and spent three hours on (three) trotros making our way to Tema Station (in Accra) and the market. On the way to Madina, Emily and I spent some time observing tro culture. Unlike in Israel, unacquainted men and women frequently sit side-by-side. Children up to about age twelve, any possibly small enough, are often put on laps to accommodate additional passengers. Our first tro was a big one, a 25-seater. Three schoolgirls boarded at one point; one sat on another’s lap and the third was placed on the knee of some random guy who boarded a couple of stops after her. Later, a mother dropped off her child aged about 3 years with brief directions to the mate, the driver’s right-hand man who collects fares, calls for stops, and determines who can board (space-wise). The child was passed from arms to arms as people boarded and departed then eventually swung down to the ground by the driver from his door. He walked away happily to the house in front of which he had been dropped.

The Cultural Market was a fun place to spend an hour or so. It’s housed in an arts center complex and mixes a corridored, open-sided building with open-air rows of shops. There are hundreds of beads, fabrics, wooden statues, traditional musical instruments, and paintings. Bargaining is essential. It was a quiet morning there and we’re obruni, so every shop owner greeted us and most encouraged us to come into their shop and look around (“just to look”). The in-your-face aspect was a big change from Dodowa, but we survived and emerged with success.

We stopped at Max Mart on the way back through Accra. Max Mart is a rich-foreigner-oriented supermarket to which Marilyn and Claire introduced the rest of us. It has such novelties as brown (wheat) bread and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Emily reveled in a non-instant iced coffee from the market café, then she, Sophie, and I all got delicious yogurt for a midday treat. So good.

It thankfully only took us two-ish hours to get home. We rested for a short while then headed up to see the kids. I spent much of the afternoon helping Kokomeyao read simple words (e.g., ‘cat’, ‘ship’) as he worked his way through a basic-phonics-game activity book. He had surprisingly sustained focus, staying on track for well over half an hour. His ability to write letters was very high for a six-year-old here.

Famous corralled Claire and me in the late afternoon to help him and Ma, along with four of the little ones, gather firewood behind the Methodist school. He taught me to use the machete to cut off protruding branches so Ma could gather straight sticks into bundles for the children’s heads. Always up for a challenge, I agreed to attempt to carry a big log on my head all the way back to the orphanage. I survived the entire third of a mile back to WORCSA, past many laughing footballers sitting on the sidelines during a scrimmage at the field and numerous gawking children. I think one woman chanted, “Well done, well done.” I was covered with sweat and dirt by the time I returned home so enjoyed the comforts of a plastic chair as we ate actual, non-fried yams with a tomato-paste-and-vegetable (mostly carrots and cabbage) sauce for dinner.

Firewood gathering took place in the field (about 20 yards right of where I was standing to take this) behind the Methodist school. Here are a couple of the (about 5-6 total) school buildings.

A close-up of one of the Methodist school buildings. 

Famous wielding his machete 

The little ones all pitch in to carry back firewood appropriate to their size. Here's Chica, age 3.

Niki and I with our logs

Success! Back at the orphanage

Niki's hands ended up even dirtier than mine.

During our evening at the orphanage, Beauty actually came excitedly over and took my hand when she saw me. She had me sit with her through dinner, which she fed herself by hand. She even said “fine” when I asked how she was and repeated my name, both big steps from her usual princess silence. My flashlight disappeared, which made me unhappy. I loaned it to Eto for storeroom tasks and he ended up taking it out of the orphanage to the mill where they grind grains without telling me. He returned very late and said that two boys had beaten him up on the way home and taken it. When I had him repeat the story for George, George laughed and said he didn’t know whether this was the truth because Eto lies a lot. My flashlight could have been stolen or could show up in Dodowa Market someday soon. Lesson learned the hard way, I suppose.

On the flip side, Claire told me during log-carrying that she likes my optimism and willingness to try anything. This was after Emily declared when we were locked out of the house a couple of nights ago, “You’re probably the most positive person I’ve ever met.” A high compliment.