Nyame Adom – Part 1

In response to the question of “wo ho te sen?” (or “how are you?” in English), the most common response I receive in my village is “nyame adom,” meaning “the grace of God.”  The full response of “nyame adom, me ho ye” (by the grace of God, I am fine) has been clipped for either the sake of expediency or coolness, one cannot be sure.

What one can be sure of, however, is that the missionaries in Ghana have done their jobs, and done them well.   There is not a single Western religion that I know, which I have not seen represented in some form whilst here in Ghana.  There are even many Christian churches of which I’ve never heard, and had to google to verify their existence. 

To put this into perspective, I live in a village of 1,600 to 2,000 people (census schmensus) and there are eight churches.  Yes, eight.  This does not count those who subscribe to traditional beliefs.  Some of my fellow PCVs live in much smaller villages and have the same number of churches. 

In my village, we have the Pentecostal, Anglican, New Apostolic, Harris, Methodist, Roman, Seventh Day Adventists, and Deeper Life churches.  On my tour d’eglise, I have been to the first four.  You see, I decided that as part of my integration into the community, I should visit each one at least once.  Woaahhoooaahh, I’m halfway there… *

Off to church (my house is to the back-right)

During most of the services, I have no idea what they are saying.  I can pick up “nyame” and “adom” because of the aforementioned greeting response.  From there, I understand when I need to stand up (“soree”) and every once in a while I catch the cue for when I should say “amen” in unison with the congregation.

Somehow, I never fail to know when it’s time to dance.  If there is one thing that I have in common with Ghanaians, it’s a shared love of dancing.  I’m fairly certain that if I were to attend many of the churches in their country of origin, there would be far less dancing, if any at all.  It seems the missionaries learned the lesson of adapting to local customs to increase sustainability some time ago.

The usual means of dancing is in line to the front of the congregation, round and round in a few circles, then back to your seats.  This held true for the Pentecostals and the Anglicans, but with more drums in the latter.  Staying true to their German roots, the Apostolic did not dance, but they did sing some lovely hymns. 

The Harris Church had a special joint congregation with surrounding communities that lasted nearly five hours.  (My counterpart insisted I take a 30-minute lunch break, and I happily obliged.)  Despite its length, I found this service to be the most enjoyable.  The singing was nice, spirits were lively, and the dancing (oh the dancing!) was fanfreakintastic. 

There were several calls to do a “line dance” and I even had a special dance where the men shaking the axatse got down low and so did I.  Not that low, it’s church, after all.  Though I’ve always been a drum beat kinda dancing girl, the axatse is quickly becoming my favorite instrument in Ghana.  It’s basically a “shaker” made from a hollowed out calabash and the players hold the woven beads on the outside with one hand and shake with the other to produce music, beautiful music. 

http://www.dancedrummer.com/axa.html

After a little more than four hours of service, we all got up and danced through the streets.  Not in the overly choreographed manner of Westside Story, but in a sort of parade, led by about ten girls waving flags in unison.  We all did our own versions of the walking dance, which can often look like the running man in slow motion, and with less knee action.  Sometimes, the old women have the best “scoot” moves that are remind me of soul dancing -- my favorite.

During our parade, many people joined from the sidelines, if for no other reason to coax the oboruni (me) into doing the azonto dance.  I respectfully declined and continued with my scoot scoot down the market road, by the taxi station, around the football field, and finally to an open clearing where they sang and we shuffled our feet some more. 

After about an hour, I was dripping in sweat and exhausted from the African sun and decided to take my departure.  I was told that I needed to pay my respects to the priest, who put his hand on my head and said a prayer in Twi (or Sefwi, I dunno) for about five minutes as I knelt before him.  Though I was spent and on the brink of dehydration, the last hour of the Harris Church service was easily one of my most enjoyable experiences at site.

I have four more churches to attend, and will update you with how it goes. I also have a great video from the Harris Church service, which I hope to upload when my connection is faster. In the meantime, be well and many thanks for reading.

* Finish the line for the full (ahem) clever effect.

Where there is no oboruni

I realize that it’s been a while since I updated my blog.  Sorry, folks.  This is a girl on the Ghana go. 

Let me catch you up to date.  We completed technical training and have all been officially sworn in as Peace Corps volunteers.  I am currently at my site in the Western region and could not be happier.  Some days are better than others, but today has been an exceptional day. 

My friend Gifty returned from visiting her mother in the Eastern region so I hung out with her all day.  We had American coffee and American biscuits (Thanks, mom, dad and Mama Sue!) and she taught me some more Twi.  Her English is good and she’s funny and feisty – all a nice combo for a good teacher. 

I tried to pound fufu (google it) but it didn’t go so well.  I never thought it would happen, but I crave this food.  It’s basically a ball of dough that you eat with your hands in piping hot soup.  Not generally my idea of a good time, but it can be so goooood.  I don’t even mind eating the chicken meat from around the neck (this is considered prime meat cause it’s juicy) and peeling the bones from the fish.  All in the name of protein.

Another funny thing that happened today – I came back from the market and heard that I was just on the news for the Peace Corps swearing in ceremony.  Gifty came running from her store, “Sister Alisa!  Sister Alisa!  You were on the television!  You were dancing!”  I really wish I could have seen it. 

I should also mention that only Gifty and her husband call me Alisa.  To everyone else, my name is Nana Yaa Pomah.  I am named after the Queen Mother of my village and am also considered one.  You heard me, I’m a freaking Queen Mother.  It’s basically a ceremonious title, but I am supposed to serve as the head of all the women here.  The chief (yes, we have chiefs and mine is awesome) told me that the community will treat me as their mother and with respect at all times.  So far, so good. 

My village is surrounded by thick bush that is full of cocoa.  Everyone here is a cocoa farmer.  They endure the hard labor involved with bringing chocolate to our American and European palates (they lump us together here, something which I can only imagine many Americans and Europeans alike will not appreciate).  I have yet to go to the bush to partake in the farming activities.  Right now, they are preparing for the rainy season in hopes of a successful harvest in a few months. I will go and learn more about it when the time comes. 

I did, however, go fishing today.  And by fishing, I mean that I went to watch them pull the fish from the trap in the river.  Except I was late – I arrived home from my “trot” at 6:45 only to find my counterpart yelling that we would be late for fishing.  He told me 7:30 so I thought I had plenty of time.  I need to really remember that he is the only early Ghanaian and things always happen before he says.  Most of the time, Ghanaians have their own sense of time that involves them beginning 1-2 hours after the scheduled time. 

Anywho, I digress.  We walked through the bush and to the river to greet the fisherman.  They built a damn that forces all the fish to go through one location where BAM! they have a trap.  They caught many fish and gave me two of the best ones.  Gifty (who is an excellent cook) will prepare the fish for us tonight.  I can’t wait.

I take many of my meals with Gifty and her family.  She’s my best friend in my village and she thankfully speaks English pretty well.  Her husband, Jackson, is also quite nice and they have one of the cutest children in all of Ghana.  His name is Justice. 

I’ve received some messages about what I need over here.  Though I am finding everything I need pretty well, there are some “creature comforts” which would be much appreciated.  Though I’m surrounded by cocoa, they do not produce chocolate here.  I can only find it at an “oburoni store” in the big cities and it is quite costly.  So, chocolate in fun size form (Gotta watch it) is great.  Skittles, Starbursts and things like this would also be nice.  Also, Clif and/or Fiber One bars, beef jerkey, trail mix, coffee, nail polish (I got time, gotta keep my paws pretty), and any kind of seasoning you think would be nice to cook with.  Even prepackaged pasta pesto packs…. As for the kiddos in my area – they seem to like coloring books and colored pencils.  Maybe some educational books with the ABCs?  There are plenty of places to get gently-used clothing for cheap, so no need to send any of this…

Thanks for tuning in.  Until next time…