Obruni Bank

One Ghana Cedi, featuring past Presidents. The bottom one is a fake that our neighbour got in her change one day.

I’ve received an email from a friend in Ghana who’s just got a new job, six or so months after graduating with a Masters in Engineering.

It’s great that he’s got a good job and in his field, especially as it can take a very long time to get work apparently, but I confess I was shocked by the wages.

I knew the per capita income was low in Ghana, but still, I was expecting a graduate to do better:  it equates to around AUD$550 a month (US$360). Yikes, that’s less than I earn in a week, part time.  And I don’t have a Masters, just a BA. It shows up the gap, once again, between our countries and economies.

Technology Blues

I left Australia with high hopes that technology would make my trip to Ghana very different from previous visits. And to a large extent, it has.

My digital camera has enabled me to show people their photos immediately.

Like in Australia, everyone has a mobile phone, so DadaK can call if I’m late home to make sure I’ve not been kidnapped, and ActionMan and I can call our friends (and theoretically, they can call us – still waiting, guys …) 

Having a laptop makes it easy to write and edit my blog before uploading and it also provides entertainment for everyone – from impromputu slide shows in Nana’s room to gaming to watching DVDs when the TV is dedicated to Nollywood soaps or Christian video hits. I’ve also been using it to teach Martha to type.

Internet access, although sporadic and painfully slow, means I can blog, stay in touch with friends and do some online research. I do feel a lot more connected to home and the world than I have on previous trips.

Sadly, most of this is now in the past tense. After threatening to blow for several weeks, the cable on my laptop finally did so a few days ago. All the above laptop related activities, plus my late night binges on Zuma Deluxe, have come to an abrupt halt.

Fortunately, I’d already asked Rich, the techie at my local “Yankee Cyber Cafe” to see if he can track down a new cable. He told me this morning that he thinks he’s found one, so my worst case scenario of no laptop for the rest of the trip is looking like it won’t happen. Fingers crossed. But if blog posts become shorter, less frequent & perhaps less coherent, you’ll know what’s happened. I’ll be at the Zuma Deluxe Anonymous 12 step program. Well no, not really. But it takes a lot of time to write blog posts and edit photos and it’ll be hassle to have to do it all at the cyber cafe, instead of at home whenever I have some spare time. (like 5.00am before the kids come knocking on my bedroom door) Ah well. On the bright side, the cyber cafe has air con.

Gruntled

A smart way to tame bougainvilleas at the John Paul Getty museum – one of the highlights of our trip to California.

Yesterday, while being driven along one of LA’s interminable highways, I noticed a billboard advertising an airline that claimed, in regard to its trans-atlantic service: “Leave disgruntled, arrive gruntled”. Well, I think it’s pretty difficult to complete a trans-Pacific crossing in a gruntled state, no mater how you were feeling when you started. It’s a long, long way.  However, in spite of the usual cramped conditions and a truly awful breakfast, we did arrive pretty gruntled. It’s good to be here.

In the middle of the night ActionMan looked out the window & by chance we were passing over the lights Apia, capital of Western Samoa. A pretty, if lonely sight. Shortly after, I looked out again and this time spotted a single, even more lonely light in the middle of the dark expanse of ocean.

Coals to Newcastle

Perhaps the equivalent phrase for the modern age would be “Chocolate to Ghana”. Ghana’s one of the world’s biggest cocoa producers but it doesn’t export actual chocolate – or only in peoples’ hand luggage. It doesn’t have much of a chocolate industry, so all the cocoa goes overseas.

The words “DON’T PANIC” were written in large, friendly letters …

While it may seem that my recent posts have had little or nothing to do with bicultural parenting, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it. Indeed, updates about hair, language lessons and cooking Ghanian food are all bubbling away in my brain, but due to a combination of lack of time and a bad dose of eyestrain, they haven’t made it into cyberspace. Bokor, be patient.

So long, and thanks for all the Milo

When in Ghana 10 years ago, ActionMan and I would often breakfast at street stalls. Sometimes we’d have an omelette in a bread roll, washed down with Milo. ActionMan’s brothers & sister all start and end each day with a cup of weak, milky Milo. It seems to have become part of Ghana culture, just as it’s part of Australian culture.

Now in Milo you have a truly bicultural drink, at least in terms of our family mix: Milo originated in Australia, and while I haven’t done the research, I’d guess there’s a good chance it contains Ghanaian cocoa. As it happens, most of DadaK’s family are cocoa farmers. I wish I could say mine were dairy farmers, it would be such a neat match, but alas, we were in beef.

But I digress. I mention Milo because earlier this week I came home from Sydney International Airport with a 1.5 Kg tin of Milo, a small jar of hazelnut spread, and a very damp hanky. Anyone with Ghanaians in the family will spot where I’m heading with this.

On Wednesday night DadaK, Obapaa, ActionMan’s cousin, and all his siblings, took off for a long holiday in Ghana – maybe up to a year. ActionMan and I will be joining them during the Aussie winter. I, at least, am going to miss them enormously. I told ActionMan’s brothers they would need to bring a bucket to the airport to catch all my tears. On Tuesday they offered me a nice yellow one. (But I managed without it).

In the weeks leading up to this landmark event, huge suitcases started sprouting from the floor in DadaK’s home. I viewed them doubtfully. I hefted one. I tactfully suggested that maybe they borrow some scales. Discussions ensued as to how much in excess of the 20kg per person allowance they could get away with. Consultations with other Ghana returnees established you could get away with quite a lot. I remained dubious, but held my peace.

Vivid in my mind were visions of other airport farewells, of Ghanaians with suitcases spilling toilet rolls, shoes, cans of mackerel, six-packs of new undies, and, of course, tins of Milo, all over the floor as the travellers agonised over what they could safely leave behind.

And now these visions are probably also vivid in the minds of the long queue of non-Ghanaians who were waiting behind DadaK and Obapaa at the Emirates check-in the other day, while they tried to eliminate over 20kg of excess (except there were no toilet rolls this time).

It certainly added a welcome element of farce to an otherwise weepy occasion.

The first time I witnessed such a scene, many years ago, I was perplexed. Why woud you take tins of corned beef to Ghana? Why not save your money and buy it when you get there? But I understand the logic now. Ghana is not a rich country, and expatriate Ghanaians have a big financial responsibilty to their families back home. Visiting family in Ghana is not like visiting family in the US, or Europe, were you might chip into the kitty and buy them some duty-free, but that’s about it. Essentially, you support the family while you are visiting. And Ghanaian families tend towards large (ActionMan has about 40 cousins in Ghana).

So over the nine or so years since Obapaa was in Ghana, she has been shopping. One day she’ll buy a couple of extra tins of beef, another she’ll buy up big on undies at a sale. This, she assures me, works out cheaper than saving the money to spend in Ghana. Even when, as she & DadaK have done, you pay for a space in a container to ship all that accumulated gear. And what you can’t fit into the container, you try and squeeze into your luggage. Although I still don’t quite understand why you would try and squeeze in two bolts of Ghanaian cloth. Taking coal to Newcastle? But I’m sure there’s a good reason.

The end result is that when they are in Ghana, DadaK and Obapaa will have a ready supply of gifts for all-comers, plus a small stockpile of food to add to the family cupboard. This will considerably ease the financial pressure of fulfilling their obligations.

20kg per person isn’t really much, in this context. Especially when your friends are hoping you’ll take a few small items back to their families too. Fortunately, the check-in was generous and Obapaa and DadaK did get away with quite a bit of extra weight, but they still had to cull a lot. After sorting through various suitcases, they ended up with a large plastic bag that, apart from the Milo, was mostly full of new clothes (apparently all belonging to other people).

I thought at this point that it would all go home with me and I’d get a lot of visitors over the next few weeks as people collected their rejected stuff. But no, they were determined to take it all. And they did – almost. They deserve awards for determination and persistence. One of the people seeing them off (did I mention we made quite a large crowd?) went in search of plastic bags, so the excess could be carried on as hand luggage – in addition to what I’m sure was far too many over-size, overweight cabin bags and a huge pink teddy. Lucky for them, the crutches went in the hold.
The last I saw of the family, as I stood morosely clutching my newly acquired tin of Milo and my hazelnut spread, was Treasure clamouring to be carried through customs, which meant the teddy had to be carried by someone else. They were quite loaded down, but even the four year old did his bit.

And the Milo? We don’t drink it. But … the use-by date is not till 2009, and when we go to Ghana in May/June, our luggage allowance will be 50kg each ….