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Why Did I Study Akan-Twi?

A little over year after I returned from Ghana I find myself again trying to figure out why the powers that be wanted Akan-Twi on their list of important languages.

In doing some research for American Foreign Policy Council, I started looking into some declassified documents. I hadn't ever considered the answer to my question might be in a National Intelligence Estimate. 

On a whim, I paused my research, heated some leftovers, and typed "Ghana" into the unassuming search bar. What came out was a list documents named things like "Prospects for Ghana," "Heroism in Ghana," "Ghana Gamble Paying Off". Here were the documents I should have read for some historical perspective before starting my Boren Scholarship.

I was interested to read in a November 1961 document, one analyst's estimation of Soviet influence over Kwame Nkrumah. The analyst described the revolutionary leader and president as, "essentially vain and egocentric." According to the SNIE, he adopted certain Soviet policies, imprisoning "large numbers of critics outside the party." And while he and his "radical followers we attracted by the apparent success of the Communists," he "almost certainly" believed the he could "use the Bloc to further his own objectives without becoming inextricably committed to the Communists."

Granted, foreign policy was not one of my much studied subjects in college, but am sad to say I hadn't even considered that U.S. interests in the peaceful country could be simply to ensure other countries not get closer diplomatically.

The U.S. could still be seeking impede Russia from getting into bed with Ghana, but more likely the potential partner is China. The Chinese make no secret that Africa is a cornerstone (Shinn and Eisenman) of their foreign policy and their cultural/education exchanges with African nations in general are widespread and impressive. China invests billions of dollars into infrastructure projects in Africa, in exchange for high-interest loans and oil use deals. The Ghanaian market is flooded with Chinese-made goods--anyone with eyes notices that almost immediately upon entering the country. 

So maybe my purpose in learning Akan-Twi on behalf of the National Security Education Program was to promote the U.S. over China in Ghana, by providing another person conversant in Ghana's culture, and one of its primary languages. It shouldn't have taken me a year to figure this out, but not many people seem to take an interest in the peaceful coastal country, seemingly famous only for its cocoa beans.

In sum-I guess I should join the Foreign Service?

Related Event: President Obama announced a U.S.-Africa Leaders Summit for August. "Worth the time" or not, I will be volunteering for the 3-day event.

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Have been sifting through the Detroit Free Press from 1945 on microfilm for the new DC internship. Couldn't help but snag some snippets for myself. 

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A new hobby

Thanks to the almighty Groupon, I have a new hobby! I considered the violent ones; kickboxing, krav maga, whiskey connoisseurship; but in the end, I settled on peace and love, not war. So now, 2-3 times a week I sit in a 105F room and sweat buckets with a load of stinky half-naked people. And I love it! You share your stink with other people--that's love. You accidentally divert the waterfall of sweat coming from your body onto your neighbor's mat and neither of you bats an eyelash--that's peace. 

I will be signing up for the full membership.**

Two things I can never be without for practice. An hour in, it's Bert's face that keeps me from passing out.

**But I'll only be able to afford it if I find some awesome discount.

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Puppies!

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Walking to Elmina

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Photo cred @notgavin

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Ghana money! Cedis! Photo credit: @notgavin

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Follow up to my earlier mattress post: a popular mattress company in Ghana

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Getting ready for the Ghanaian Dinner Party

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Look at all the raaainnn.... and how the clouds stay in the sky. #re-adjustment

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Happy World Malaria Day!

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Water sachet waste on the ground, the fertile garden near where I live (breathtaking in the rainy season) and a sign that makes me laugh and think of the 80s every time I walk past it.

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Great read--essentially a "This is Ghana today"

"The Akans have a saying that literally translates: “A man doesn’t cry”. What this implies is that, an adult must not cry no matter what. It will therefore be deemed shameful for an old man, and for that matter, a man with only 4 years into his retirement to be crying every other day for lack of amenities as basic as potable water. That man is Ghana"

"Someone remarked that if Ghana were a man, (which I believe it is), no one would marry him and I agree."

Full article here:

http://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/NewsArchive/artikel.php?ID=266859&comment=0#com

(Take a look at the comments for an excellent summary of the political back and forth in Ghana.)

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Ghana spelling!

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Two girls holding hands, Baba Yara Stadium, Kumasi

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I'm denied a seat on the bus because of gender inequality in Ghana

Yesterday, I was affected by the gender inequality issues in Ghana. I was the first person to board a long-distance Metro Mass Transit (MMT) bus from Cape Coast to Kumasi. I sat in the front row, in a seat separated from the its brothers with plenty of legroom. This is the second time I managed to snag the best seat on the bus, and the third time I managed to sit in the front row.

I waited patiently for the bus to fill. A woman carrying a baby and a basket came and tried to sit in a vacant seat next to me. She was turned away and I assumed it was because the seat had already been taken. 

I realized this was not the case when a MMT authority boarded the bus and told me directly “women are not allowed to sit in the front row”. When I asked him why, he would not explain, saying simply, “It is a new rule”.

I told him, “No”. He insisted I move.

I tried to make him realize what he had just done, “Why are women not allowed to sit in the front seat?” He insisted I move. It was the rules.

I tried to reason with him, “I’ve sat in the front row three times before and have never once been told to move.” He insisted I move. It was a new rule.

I fastened the seatbelt and told him he would have to come and physically remove me from the front row back to another seat. He threatened to remove me from the bus.

The driver came to me calmly and compassionately, and suggested that I switch places with the man diagonally behind me. I moved. Outwardly confused and inwardly infuriated I started asking people around me why women were not allowed in the front seat. 

The MMT authority left the bus and the driver pulled out of Cape Coast station.

I moved to sit on top of the engine next to the driver and asked the man who had replaced me for my seat back. “No, it’s the rules”. 

I opened the memo function on my mobile phone. I told the men in the first row that I was a journalist was going to write an article about this experience. A man in the second row asked me what the topic would be. “Metro Mass Transit’s new policy against women in the front row: a step backward for gender equality in Ghana?” 

I asked the men if they knew why women were not allowed in the front row. The man beside me said “Women are too emotional to sit in the front seat.” The man who had replaced me said, “Women are more likely to distract the driver and cause an accident.” 

I asked this man if he knew about the 3rd Millennium Development Goal, gender equality and women’s empowerment. He smirked, put on his Beats by Dre headphones and turned toward the window.

The driver beckoned me to his ear. He explained to me that recently a woman had been sitting in the front row and the driver had braked to hard. She flew into the window and died. He said this kindly and I could see his empathy. He had tried unsuccessfully to convince the authority to let me stay in the front seat if I fastened my seat belt. He said I could sit next to him on the engine for the rest of the ride if I wanted. 

I sat for a few seconds and, at the advice of a friend via text message, I took out a notebook. I asked the men the first row for a pen, explaining I was going to write a statement. The eldest man in the first row held his hands up, “I’m not going to help you.” The other’s looked at me, but didn’t respond. A man in the second row handed me a blue pen. I wrote down an objective account of what happened. 

The pen-giver agreed to sign it; the driver as well. Then, I moved back to my seat in the second row. (See Picture 1: View From the Second Row of the Seat I Gave Up.)

Picture 1: View From the Second Row of the Seat I Gave Up

Later, at the rest stop, the driver gave me his sincere apology and invited me to share a fufu with him. I got his contact information.

On the way to Kumasi, I saw two other metro mass busses pass, one had a woman and child sitting in the front row. 

The poster behind the driver’s seat depicts people of many ethnic groups sitting on the bus. In the front seat are a man and a woman smiling. (See Picture 2: Bus Poster ). 

Picture 2: Bus Poster (with woman pictured sitting in the front row and a man coming to disturb the driver)

I gazed up at the poster and considered if I’d overreacted. Are women not allowed in the front seat of taxis or of personal cars at equal risk? Are they not allowed to do so in tro tros and shuttles? Would not a man also fly into the windshield if the car braked too quickly?

If a woman wants to sit in the front seat, she should be able to choose to do so fully understanding the risk. That is the essence of equality: freedom of choice.

During that journey my mind ran a million miles a minute. I thought about Cape Coast Castle, a monument to civil rights abuse, less than 200 meters from the station. I thought about Rosa Parks sitting in the front row of her bus, told to move because she was black, not even because she was a woman. 

If the scene I threw convinces any of the woman on that bus to stand up for equality in their day-to-day life, that’s enough for me. Worst case scenario, no one understood the point and I'm a privileged white person who wanted the best seat.