Yesterday I got a fair amount of exercise. I walked around for a couple hours trying to find first the forex bureau to change some money (successful) and then the beach (unsuccessful). I finally had a taxi take me to Coco Beach, which was nice enough although pretty well covered with trash in the section I was in. The driver told me 25 pesewas (100 pesewas = 1 cedi, pronounced seedy, valued at 1.42 cedis to the dollar), and then when we got there he told me 1.50 cedis and was like, “Maybe no one has taught you yet what you should pay.” Riiight. I gave him my 50 pesewa coin since that was the smallest I had and I didn’t feel like arguing, and I just got out. He dropped me at a Ramada Inn (very fancy resort on the beach) that I’m pretty sure was not there for public access to the beach, but since I’m obruni (Twi for white) and didn’t ask anyone, everyone assumed I belonged. I picked up a few pretty shells and took a couple pictures, but getting there more than staying was really the adventure.
Also, I got followed by a pig for an eighth of a mile. It was sort of funny.
Dinner was peanut sauce, which was excellent, and Grandma stuck in some Ghanaian cheese, which is pretty much exactly like paneer (Indian cheese), which I appreciate. It was served with mashed up rice; I probably would have preferred just regular rice, but I won’t be picky. It was quite good.
In the evening I went out with Steven (the Scot) and Prince, and we were joined by three of Steven’s friends from the 2nd division soccer/football team he coaches. It was a pleasant enough outing, although the music was very loud and my ears rang for a long time afterwards. In Ghana (as in other 2 African countries I’ve visited), the average bar is usually an outdoor area with plastic tables and chairs and a set of speakers. It’s kind of nice to hang out outside when it’s cooler out, as long as you don’t forget to put on the bug spray.
While I was at the internet café yesterday, waiting for the internet connection to get restored, I met a girl named Millicent who seemed very nice. At the end of our chat, in which she had professed her interest in being my friend and we had a nice discussion about where we both came from and so on, she asked me to come to her church in the morning, and I was like what the hell. Not exactly like that of course.
So not knowing anything about the Pentecostal Church (and honestly, probably still not knowing much about its western variety), I showed up at 7am this morning at our meeting place and we went to a church that is also usually a school. Millicent asked me if I would mind covering my hair and helped me put on a head scarf for the occasion. The kids were having Sunday school, which involved some pretty cute dance routines. The service itself was certainly something I’m glad to have gone to, but definitely not something that I was thrilled to actually sit through. It lasted about 2 hours (once it started at 9ish), and around half was a sermon and half was song and dance. The latter was definitely the more entertaining part, since I don’t so much speak Twi. There was a drum set rather than an organ, which I think I prefer since it’s more conducive to not falling asleep. A couple times some of the ladies who were taken by the spirit to do so got up and formed a sort of Conga line to the front, where they circled up and danced before going back to their seats. It was much more entertaining when the men did it of course; I don’t think anyone will argue with me when I say that on the whole, African men have a far better sense of rhythm and dance skills than American men. There were also several sections of loud prayer, where everybody got to shout their own personal prayers in their own way. Altogether, besides the (for me) very conservative views of this particular church, I think this is probably one of the best services I’ve been to.
Of course I’ve long been convinced that going to church as an atheistic spectator and pretending to go along with things makes me a particularly bad type of sinner. This was rubbed into my face when at the end visitors to the church (ie me) were invited to the front to be welcomed, and the pastor said, “Can we expect to see you here in church to take fellowship for the rest of your stay?” before handing me the microphone in front of a crowded church. I declined as nicely as I could, although I’m not sure there was really an acceptable answer to them besides yes. I’m afraid I might have gotten myself into a little more than I could handle there. But still, it was a good experience to have had.
That’s about all for the weekend. I start work tomorrow. Hopefully tonight I’m going to interview Steven, who’s pretty excited to give me a story about his team before he leaves the country Wednesday. It will be good to show up with an article (or the makings of one) tomorrow so I can impress my editor and get a good assignment faster, even if it is an article about sports.
Also, I got followed by a pig for an eighth of a mile. It was sort of funny.
Dinner was peanut sauce, which was excellent, and Grandma stuck in some Ghanaian cheese, which is pretty much exactly like paneer (Indian cheese), which I appreciate. It was served with mashed up rice; I probably would have preferred just regular rice, but I won’t be picky. It was quite good.
In the evening I went out with Steven (the Scot) and Prince, and we were joined by three of Steven’s friends from the 2nd division soccer/football team he coaches. It was a pleasant enough outing, although the music was very loud and my ears rang for a long time afterwards. In Ghana (as in other 2 African countries I’ve visited), the average bar is usually an outdoor area with plastic tables and chairs and a set of speakers. It’s kind of nice to hang out outside when it’s cooler out, as long as you don’t forget to put on the bug spray.
While I was at the internet café yesterday, waiting for the internet connection to get restored, I met a girl named Millicent who seemed very nice. At the end of our chat, in which she had professed her interest in being my friend and we had a nice discussion about where we both came from and so on, she asked me to come to her church in the morning, and I was like what the hell. Not exactly like that of course.
So not knowing anything about the Pentecostal Church (and honestly, probably still not knowing much about its western variety), I showed up at 7am this morning at our meeting place and we went to a church that is also usually a school. Millicent asked me if I would mind covering my hair and helped me put on a head scarf for the occasion. The kids were having Sunday school, which involved some pretty cute dance routines. The service itself was certainly something I’m glad to have gone to, but definitely not something that I was thrilled to actually sit through. It lasted about 2 hours (once it started at 9ish), and around half was a sermon and half was song and dance. The latter was definitely the more entertaining part, since I don’t so much speak Twi. There was a drum set rather than an organ, which I think I prefer since it’s more conducive to not falling asleep. A couple times some of the ladies who were taken by the spirit to do so got up and formed a sort of Conga line to the front, where they circled up and danced before going back to their seats. It was much more entertaining when the men did it of course; I don’t think anyone will argue with me when I say that on the whole, African men have a far better sense of rhythm and dance skills than American men. There were also several sections of loud prayer, where everybody got to shout their own personal prayers in their own way. Altogether, besides the (for me) very conservative views of this particular church, I think this is probably one of the best services I’ve been to.
Of course I’ve long been convinced that going to church as an atheistic spectator and pretending to go along with things makes me a particularly bad type of sinner. This was rubbed into my face when at the end visitors to the church (ie me) were invited to the front to be welcomed, and the pastor said, “Can we expect to see you here in church to take fellowship for the rest of your stay?” before handing me the microphone in front of a crowded church. I declined as nicely as I could, although I’m not sure there was really an acceptable answer to them besides yes. I’m afraid I might have gotten myself into a little more than I could handle there. But still, it was a good experience to have had.
That’s about all for the weekend. I start work tomorrow. Hopefully tonight I’m going to interview Steven, who’s pretty excited to give me a story about his team before he leaves the country Wednesday. It will be good to show up with an article (or the makings of one) tomorrow so I can impress my editor and get a good assignment faster, even if it is an article about sports.
I LOVE IT! What a great post. I wish I could've been there myself. :)
ReplyDeleteI am wondering, however, how it is that you said "what the hell" (in any words) & then went to church with your new friend. ;)