“obruni!” they shout. i've heard this before. i know it's not meant as an insult, they're just not used to seeing white people. but still, it rankles. and the constant honking from taxis and smiley catering from merchants...they even call me master sometimes. wha? they're basically singling me out, putting me ahead of their own people, because they think (know?) i have money.
“obibini!” i shout back, cringing.
they call me white person, i'm calling them black person. my basic western philosophy of political correctness warns me against it. this might earn me a beating at home. but people tell me it will earn me respect; it puts us on somewhat of an equal footing. and it works. they smile big, and i can see the surprise in their eyes, plus a small dose of admiration as well. political correctness is definitely not in play here.
i'm starting to figure a few things out.
i'll be living here in ghana for the better part of a year. the sooner i learn how to differentiate the hucksters from the real people, the better. after a day at work getting to know my fellow luv fm'ers, finding a friend, and a likely place to stay, i'm getting more comfortable.
i can do basic greetings in the local language, i've figured out how to set myself apart from the tourists. kofi, one of the dj's at the station, offers me a room in his nice, quiet place, about ten minutes from work. but we're coming from completely different angles. I'm thinking supply and demand...he's welcoming me for whatever price. i'm trying to pin him down, get him to name a figure. but he won't. he's so welcoming, and i feel like a jerk for wondering what the scam is. it could still be a scam, but every clue i have says it's not. he takes me around in a taxi driven by his friend all day. it's his friend, he explains, and they take care of eachother. he introduces me to other friends, vouches for me. i finally offer the relatively paltry sum of ghc (ghana cedis, about par with our dollar) 100 per month, and he accepts wihout hesitation. (side note: “cedi” is taken from the native language called akan. it refers to the cowrie shell, which was legal currency in parts of west africa before the europeans arrived.)
it wasn't supposed to be this way. it was suppose to be scary. africans should hate us. they'd be well withing their rights. for centuries, the west raped their land, kept them in slavery and in some ways, we're still doing it. gold mining companies from my own backyard have poisoned rivers, killed towns, made people sick and i'm waiting for the revenge. it looks like we're about to do it with ghana's rich bauxite reserves too. either they're really patient, really naive or they judge us individually, based on our character, not our history. i put the question to kofi. he explains that we can steal ghana's material riches, but we can't rob its people of their hospitality.
they seem to know what bob marley was talking about, when he said: “don't gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver and gold.”
what a concept.
i'm still waiting for the hammer blow to fall. but i want to believe people, strangers basically, can be this generous. tune in next time. it'll either be more adventures of the incredibly naive, or more ludicrous tales from a stranger in a strange land.
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