WE
ARE AFRICA! We are black, white, brown and mixed. We are rich, poor and
middle-class. We are not all sick! We are not all emaciated! We are
inundated with a dearth of bold leadership, diseases and hunger whilst being
oppressed and maligned by systems and the powers that be. Yet, we are the
future! You may read this with the subtlest of concurrence or with sheer
cynicism, but though I may not live to see it, like MLK, I have a dream, that
not only are we rising, that someday, my kids or their kids, would rewrite this
piece, not futuristically but in the now!
I
am not propounding unrealistic goals, but I see the hunger and thirst for
success in the face of the African youth! I see the desire for change and that
is the catalyst for change!
The societal nuances that characterize the
African society are varied. People who were raised here or with African values,
because mind you; it doesn’t take living in Africa to be African, would attest
to this. Like my cousins in London remarked: “these outskirts is London, once
you close that door, this is Ghana”! Our societal values bother on family,
unity, love, faith and maybe sometimes to a fault, community. My mission here today is rather mundane, to let you
in on some maybe funny, startling or infuriating societal happenings in the
motherland.
Let’s
start off with one of the means of public transportation in the motherland. A
fancy term has been coined for it, “Trotro”. Unless you choose to live in a
5-star hotel or try to set up your own Beverly Hills in Ghana, something, some
foreigners try to do whilst they live there which not only fascinates me but irks
me in the same breath, you will have to sit in a trotro to discover that a 30 minute
ride can either change your life for the better or the worse. You may adopt a
rich and famous life in the motherland by resorting to boarding taxis, but you
should at least try to discover this life of the ordinary African. Once you
struggle to get in one, the stench from the conductor, affectionately called
“mate” could reawaken your nasal senses to such a degree that your day’s
frustrations would immediately lose its significance (not all of them though!).
The “mate” whose sole role is to collect the fare from the passengers can
sometimes fraternize with passengers to an extent that if you are like me, who
sometimes felt her mannerism did not meet the definition of the term;
“layman" even though considering the fact that my frugality which dictated
my hostility to taxis with the silly excuse that it wasn’t safe qualified me as
a “laywoman", these mates could come across to you as the most crude
people on the surface of the earth. When someone sits next to you, 7 out of 10
times, they would start a random conversation with you. The topic comes in
various hues; politics, religion, personal matters. The latter you might wonder
why, but this one is tricky. This fellow trotro-boarder can begin telling you stories
that may seem to the person on the next row that you both came from the same
woman’s womb! It gets even weirder when they start the conversation and begin a
lamentation. It's as if in that moment, you were their hero; that somehow, by
letting you know what they have been through, your very ability to listen even
though they may have lost you the moment their minds conceptualized this idea
of sudden acquintance by virtue of having a shared commonality of the very lack
of financial resources to buy a car and hence resorting to public transport,
you could be the panacea to their exalted problems.
Should
you not empathize with their situation, you would be perceived rude. Nobody
cares what you have been through during the day! This is a societal burden,
which you have been given the august presence of aiding a fainting heart. Being
African, you cannot be too busy to help a fellow African! We all sign a
‘continental treaty' every year in Addis Ababa to help each other, especially
when we manage to escape our beloved home to the diaspora! That is barbaric and
no being educated doesn’t excuse you either! At worst, the lay-man expects that
your degree has the answer to his/her problems. And oh may I add, the women
take it to a whole new level. Should you encounter a woman who starts the
conversation with; "hmm,hmm" you can be sure her grievances would either be
about a cheating husband or an insubordinate child! If its your first time in
Africa, get off at the next stop! You would have to agree with her on
everything or else, you are her husbands ally!
Restaurants
are too regal for certain foods! Even if they have earned a Ph.D from Harvard
or Cambridge, eating waakye in a restaurant is an anomaly. We like our local
foods not only local by preparation, but by their site of sale! Like one of my
bosses recounted in the past and don’t cringe because you are always served
with cheesy smiles from waiters who do it half-of-the time for good tips, the
best waakyes are those sold by the gutters! See, people with double masters,
queue to get the best waakye and don’t worry, they will be back next week even
after a bad bout of stomach upset! Paradoxic? I guess...
We
are religious; maybe overly religious! On Sundays, I am sure the angels in
heaven responsible for attending to the saints prayers are about 100,000 times more
in African churches than those in Western countries. See, with all that is
plaguing us, you can’t blame us for having 6 services in a day! Don’t look
surprised! After all, God said he never slumbers nor sleeps! If christians in
the West would give him a “resting period”, not us! We will call him till his
schedule for the day is over!
We
may be poor, but not when you attend our funerals and weddings! Don’t get it
twisted, we came to mourn, but to eat as well. Occasionally I would get
confused as to what exactly the dancing was about; dancing with the ghost of
the departed person to usher them to the other side or just seizing the
opportunity to have a good time? You can be sure that even if we are in debt,
we do not leave these important ceremonies with any mark less than a touch of
gold! Whether that gold was bought, stolen or borrowed.
I
type this piece with a smirk on my face. A smirk modeled by a dual sense of
longing for what has been left behind and an anticipation of the unfamiliar
grounds I am yet to tread. Isn’t it funny? How you appreciate the things you
once had better when they are gone?
See
you next month!
