2 adventures

Hello!

Since I last wrote here I have had two adventures. The first adventure was going to Makola Market on Saturday with Kristin. We woke up early, donned our market wear (tough sandals for navigating puddles and uneven dirt paths, lightweight shirts and skirts, sunscreen (borrowed) and sunhats, which are good b/c they shade your face but don't interfere with glasses or eye contact), and took a shared taxi to the market (everybody goes to market on Saturday) (cost about 30¢ each). The market is right in the middle of Accra, not far from the ocean, and sort of bleeds out into the surrounding neighborhoods, people selling their wares in wooden stalls or just laid out on the sidewalk. The market consists of thousands of little wooden stalls, some with walls (the fabric ones have walls so they can hang their fabric on it for display), many without (not necessary for the food ones—they like tables better), all crammed together, winding around irregularly and delightfully. The area where the taxi dropped us off was the food section, so we wound our way through it: vegetables, fish, chickens, snails, pig feet, mounds of spices a foot tall, just sitting on a sheet on the ground, all smelling foody but a little off-putting.

We started asking various merchants where the fabric section was, because the food section seemed to go on forever, but eventually we found it—stall after stall of beautiful crazy fabric. At one of the first ones I found a large black, white, red, and light orange print (about $3/yard—I was taken for a ride on that one); at another, a teal-orange-and-many-other-colored batik (about $1.50/yard), and finally a reddish orange and black patterned batik (also $1.50/yard) (sounds like a lot of orange but it isn’t the main color in any of them except the last). I will put pictures up as soon as I can. I could have stayed there for hours. For some reason they put most of the fabric stalls, which are mostly very narrow, just a few feet across, in the covered part of the market, so it can be very hard to see them—sometimes I liked them in the stall but when I brought it out into the pathway I didn’t like it anymore.

When K and I had had our fill of fabric (which, for me, really, would have been never, but it was already quite hot and we had other things to do), we attacked the rest of our lists. I wanted a big (big as in, the circumference of my arms is smaller) straw hat, such as the women wear in the market—they aren’t floppy (have a hard rim) so they shade your body too. We also wanted novels, a new totebag for K, a belt, flip flops, I bought a glass necklace, and I think maybe that was about it. Finding all of these things took at least an hour and a half more, and we were quite exhausted and happy at the end. We had also each had a coconut for refreshment—they lop off one end and you drink the oddly flavored water inside, then they chop it in half with a machete and you eat the slice of fresh coconut inside. These coconuts still have their green outer shell and don’t taste anything like that horrid coconut you get on cupcakes in the U.S. I think they are generally unripe, because the coconut inside only takes up a small part of the area; the rest is water. Afterward, we wandered down a street, finding an iron, a post office (some of you will be receiving postcards soon!) and a restaurant for lunch. After lunch, exhausted, we went home and relaxed for a while.

Not long after we got home, I received a call from the rental broker, Hanson Yow, whose office I had wandered into a few days before, hoping he would help us find a place. He said he had 2 apartments to show us that were within our price range. A few hours later, K and I went to his office, where he explained that we would have to pay 100,000 cedis upfront (about $10), and then after we got an apartment, one month’s rent as a fee to him. Since our upper limit for an apartment was $600, this we considered unacceptable. So we managed to argue him down to $200, but only if he could also lower the rent to $500, which he seemed to think he could do. So we all trooped downstairs and got into a taxi, and the second adventure began. Hanson told us we would need to go and pick up his friend, who was familiar with the landladies. As it turned out, this friend, Mister William, knew all the landladies and the locations of the apartments, and our man, Hanson, knew nothing. We waited about 20 minutes for Mister William to come out of his house, and the first thing he asked us was our names, and the second was what day of the week we had been born. He said he could tell that Kristin had been born on a Thursday, and when I said I didn’t know what day I was born, he surmised, given the shape of my face, that it was probably a Sunday. He also managed to guess that Kristin is part Native American (this we found very impressive).

We finally took off to see an apartment. The landlady was not home there, so we could not see it. We then went back to Mister William’s house so that he could pick up some information. We then saw 7 more apartments. The first was too expensive. The second was still being built. The third had already been taken. The fourth was both too expensive and already taken. The fifth landlady wasn’t home.

We finally saw 3 apartments that were both available and within our price range. The sixth was all right, not great, although in a neighborhood that had lots of stands and people about, which we like. The seventh, in the same neighborhood, was much too small and had lots of barking unfriendly dogs, and an incredibly small kitchen that we’d have to share. And the eighth was the best. It was large, had its own kitchen, two bedrooms, a view of the ocean, and a balcony. There were two drawbacks: the first was that it was on a very busy street, and we were warned to walk with our bags facing away from the street so that motos wouldn’t drive by and snatch them. The second, that it would take me much longer to get to work. But I think we would have been willing to compromise on this, if later events had transpired differently.

The eighth apartment was the last one, and we headed back to our part of town to drop off Mister William. When we got to his house, he started talking with the driver of the taxi in Twi (local language), and then turned around and explained to us that he was trying to get the driver to lower his price. The taxi charged 80,000 cedis/hour (about $8/hour), and we’d been out for three hours. While this doesn’t sound like very much for a taxi for three hours, it is quite a lot here, and Hanson had never told us that we were responsible for paying the taximan, AND we’d seen five apartments that wouldn’t work at all, which could easily have been divined by calling ahead. So I refused to pay. And refused. and refused. K and I talked, and considered paying part, but I felt ripped off, and we decided not to pay. Hanson, who would be stuck with the bill, asked us to pay and we would then discuss reducing the commission later. But by this time I suspected that there was no way the lower commission would still be available, because he was going to have to give a big chunk to Mister William. And, of course, our paying any future commission was not assured and becoming less so by the minute. Plus Mister William agreed that it was unreasonable for Hanson not to explain everything in advance. So after more stalling by Hanson, K and I just left, and walked home. We were very worked up and rehashed it over and over, and finally agreed that we were through with Hanson Yow.
Sunday we were going to go to the beach, but my digestive system was in revolt, so I finished a mystery I bought at the market, and it rained.

Work has been fine—I’m on my second draft of my article about the right to information. Tonight I will go with Kobby (a Ghanaian with whom Kristin and I played pool last week) to see about another apartment. Maybe tomorrow I will do some laundry. And on Thursday perhaps an outing to an Italian restaurant. On the weekend, K and I are thinking about going to a local beach that has a cheap resort; I hope to sleep in my tent. Yesterday was my sister Patrice’s birthday. She is 26 years and one day old and has fulfilled one year of her Peace Corps commitment in Burkina Faso (directly north of Ghana). I wrote her this text message poem, patterned after an old Sesame Street song:

When yer turnin’ twenty six
and yer poop is really slick
it makes me mad,
very angry, very very angry,
real mad.

Happy Birthday Tc!

Not much news otherwise. Over and out.

. . .

happy africa unity day!

Africa Unity Day is a holiday, so no work for me.

Things are going well. I bought a phone, lost it in a taxi, and had it returned to me (for a mere $10 reward), to the surprise of all. I forgot both sunscreen and bug stuff, which was stupid, as I am allergic to the bug stuff available here. My work at CHRI is ok--the office is tiny, and there are not enough computers to go around, and the internet is so slow as to make it not worthwhile most of the time. But I like the people, for the most part, and the work seems interesting. I'm in the process of writing an article about a right to information bill (like the Sunshine Act in the US) that's been going thru Parliament for several years now. I guess the goal is to have this article printed in one of the national newspapers here, the Daily Graphic (definitely not a misnomer).

Here's my current cast of characters:
Kristin: another NYU law student whom I have buddied up with. We live at the same hotel and are trying to find an apartment together. She volunteers at a place called Center for Democratic Development, a local place with good funding, apparently. Kristin has spent quite some time in West Africa before, mostly in Benin, I think. The dudes at the hotel refer to us as sisters. She's terrific.

Stefanie: an Austrian woman who is also volunteering at CHRI. She has the Austrian equivalent of a law degree (they get them as undergraduate degrees) She has been here since January and is a great source of information. Stefanie is very animated and fun.

Colleen: a Columbia law school student also volunteering at CHRI. She helped me fix my wireless on my computer the first day.

Edmund: the second-in-command at CHRI. Edmund is a lawyer with a law firm, thru which he works at CHRI. He works a lot b/c of splitting his time between CHRI and the law firm. He has spent time in South Africa and Egypt and is very helpful and fun.

Kingham and Cynthia: also work at CHRI. It's not quite clear to me what their jobs are, but they are very busy and work long hours. They are both very nice.

Gofi: the guy who seems to be in charge of our hotel. He is very good at refusing our requests for discounts for smelly rooms or long stays, and is sometimes very chatty and other times not.

Akan: also works at the hotel, although I'm not sure in what capacity. He is very nice and chats with Kristin and me a lot. He is helping us find a place to live.

I like how some of the Ghanaians have very englishy names. I've met two Bernices, a Harriet, a Leslie (man), two Edmunds, one Benedicta, and one Augustina. And then some have less european names, like Gofi and Akan. Another great thing is the mangoes. They are incredibly sweet. Women sell them on the street, and they will cut one up for you and put the pieces in a little bag with a toothpick for 40 cents. The bananas are also very sweet adn delicious. We eat oranges, with the orange (here, actually, green) part sliced off, leaving the white part of teh rind intact, and then they cut off the top for you and you suck out the juice. The fried plantains are amazing (you can buy them on the street too--they smell so good!) . I have also eaten a lot of fried chicken, salads (sometimes w/ a cabbage base), and omelets. The rice/sauce combos tend to be very heavy on the palm oil, so I don't eat that so much. I am generally a rather timid eater here. But I'll probably get bored after a while and branch out. Kristin and I would really like to move so that we can get a kitchen, and depend less on the "fast food".

There is a little market near the tro-tro (serves the purpose of a bus, but is usually a mini-bus, crammed full of people) station that takes me to and from work (for approx. 30 cents each way), and I bought my first piece of fabric there. I can't wait to go to the big market on saturday and see all the beautiful patterns. And Sunday might be our first beach day. It's wicked hot today, but not bad in the shade. I think we might go find a bookstore next (not much is open on Africa Unity Day). Kristin and I are also learning some Twi. Obroni=white person (not rude--they yell this at us a lot, esp. the children), obibini = black person (they laugh when we yell this back). I have learned to say good morning, good afternoon, thank you, how are you, and fine. The ghanaians are all very happy when we say anything to them in Twi, so I am especially happy to learn it.
Ok, I'm about out of internet time, so goodbye till next time!

. . .

yo

from busyinternet (largest telecommunications center in all of Africa, supposedly), Accra to personal computers all over America, I greet you. I do not have many minutes left, but Ijust wanted to pop in and say hello.
I wish I'd remembered sunscreen.
I have a phone now, so if you feel like making intercontinental calls, lemme know.
buh. I'm too damp to be clever. I start work tomorrow. I will write more soon.
. . .

away I go

I leave tomorrow morning at 9:40 am on a 13-hour flight to Dubai, a short layover, and then an 8 hour flight to Accra. I'll arrive around noon on Friday. Accra is on Greenwich Mean Time, which I believe is five hours ahead of the east coast, 6 ahead of midwest, and 8 ahead of the west coast. But they don't observe daylight savings, in which case it might only be 4, 5, and 7 hours, respectively. I hope to get a cell phone asap, and according to my books, there are lots of internet cafes in Accra, so I should be in regular communication. I also hope to be skypeable, but that will depend on my computer getting internet access itself.

Also, here's a picture of a peanut that looks like Jimmy Carter, and some kids:



goodbye, goodbye!
. . .

Nebraska's Fightin' 2nd District

Is duly hilariously profiled on the Colbert Report. Watch it here. Scroll down a little to the picture of Fightin' Rep. Lee Terry (R-Neb.) and click Watch.

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Ghana: A Golden Experience at the Center of the World

It's always such a flushing letdown when these exams are finished. I never know how well I did, they always seem hard, and the process is demoralizing. But hell, it's over now. I just uploaded my final exam for my 2L (tool) year. Now all that's left is a paper, picking judges to clerk for, packing and cleaning.

To pick myself up I looked around on the web for a little bit earlier for more Ghana information. I found this travelblogue. Looks like she was there for a few months in 2001, and went to some amazing places. All I've thought about much are the beaches and fabric and people, but the rivers, waterfalls, rainforests, animals (In Ghana, even the animals ... have a Smile for You!), and other towns are really exciting me at the moment. Looks like May and June are rainy and hot (90s during the day, 80s at night), and it gets a little cooler and drier in July and August. I'll be in Accra, which is that little beige sluggy area at the bottom right of the map.

Here's the Republic of Ghana's tourism website (whence comes the "Golden Experience" business). I'm going to be there during the World Cup, in which Ghana is a particpant this year. That should be suitably insane (it's taking place in Germany). Ghana'll be playing the US on June 22. I'll also be there for Emancipation Day, a weeklong celebration of the end of the transatlantic slave trade. And I can take a batiking class for $20. woo.

. . .

ghana:duck :: ghana:duck :: ghana:duck :: EXAM:GOOSE

On a whim I decided to figure out my Ghana malaria medicine situation (I can't talk about it here, but it felt very sneaky! and expensive), get my Ghana visa (sort of sneaky--the consulate's method, so far as I can tell, of answering the phone is to pick up the handset and immediately hang it up again--, and also expensive), and buy my new black Ghana suit (sneaky like fashion! and yep, expensive) for going to Ghana court. Yup. And I finally succumbed to my last exam of the semester, all 24 pp. and 48 hours of it, starting at 8:39pm tonight and ending at 8:38 pm on Wednesday.

. . .

p.s. Who doesn't love scientists? click on that there phone!

plus

it's still fun (and a good deal! just 25¢) to get a handful of chiclets from a little machine and stick 'em all in your mouth at once and chew the big sugary drippy mess until it turns hard and only vaguely minty tasting. yep. ptoooey!

. . .

the tattoo website linked to from your blog fails to include the best tattoo EVER.

Thank you, alert reader Dan Matza-Brown.



. . .

tats

http://www.tattooconfidential.com/





. . .

morning news to the sound of drilling

yes!
secrets on 44th st.
and I hope I'm never famous enough to have McShane family allies.

Here's a free picture I took:


. . .

research

a friend of mine is doing some research on public perceptions of global warming. help her out and take this survey at: http://www.questionpro.com/akira/TakeSurvey?id=440339
thanks!
...

A little forethought

would have been useful here. Triangolo Pizza is Open Pizza? Triangolo is Open Pizza Pizza? (and sometimes it's closed). This is the pizza place across from my apartment, and this is my new construction site, rumored to stick around for the next 2 years. whoopee.



. . .

thank you FDNY

Well, I'm down one exam and Greenpoint is down several warehouses. Waiting for the bus yesterday morning, I saw huge billowing clouds of smoke in the sky, coming from somewhere very near by. But instead of investigating what the NYT reports to be a 9-alarm fire (nobody died!), I had to get on the bus to go to school to take my exam.

Here's what I saw:


And here's what was happening (from the NYT article):




And while these valiant firefighters were hard at work, I was taking my exam and then a long lunch with my buddies.

Here's to the New York Fire Department.

. . .

immigrants and Micala R. Gordon

What do they have in common? Today was special for both. The immigrants rallied for their rights (I got to squirm thru them at Union Square, pictured above, on my way to a law of democracy exam review whee) and Micala rallied for her birthday. Also, they both like tacos. And they're both what makes this country great. sigh. I love you guys.



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