Happy Thanksgiving to everyone at home! I'm on my way back to the north after a wonderful Thanksgiving vacation spent with almost every other Peace Corps volunteer in the country at the U.S. Ambassador's House in Accra. I soaked up as much American culture as I could over the few days I had there and it was AMAZING. I stayed with one of the American Peace Corps staff and his wife in their house in Accra where I took my first hot shower since I've been here, helped cook in their American-style kitchen, and even slept on a bed with springs in a room with AC! It was blissful. After dinner at the Ambassador's, which was *and this is coming from a ex-vegetarian and non-Thanksgiving-day-food fan* DELICIOUS. I even had a margarita at an Irish pub that caters to foreigners. It will be a difficult few days adjusting back to my site, but I'm considering it all a rejuvinating experience. The hours upon hours of travel were well worth it and the built-up aniticipation, that could easily rival a five-year-old on Christmas Eve, was well met. Thank you Peace Corps. Thank you Ghana.
But back to reality on the home-bound front. My life at site is progressing. Daily life is getting easier. Projects are starting to pick up. And I reach new levels of understanding all the time. However, the cultural steps are probably the slowest for me, so there's one in particular I would like to share with you. Every Sunday morning (though I missed it today because of my wonderful vacation) at around six o'clock am--or more specifically, about an hour after the guinea fowl, roosters, pigs, and goats get REALLY loud--I put on a Ghanaian looking outfit and walk to church. The general good morning greeting, "bulika" is always followed with a short or long "how are you?"/"I am fine" conversation. Specifically for foreigners it's usually followed up with "ho kingla be?" (where are you going?). Usually I respond with school, the market, or work, but on Sundays, I get to mix it up and respond with church. Then, in contrast with American culture, they ask me to pray for them. It's about a half hour walk on the dirt road through the market. I continuously wear my chaco's, but I am always met with women impressively wearing heels and long dresses and sometimes with a baby strapped on their back with a two-yard. And this isn't all that I'm impressed with on Sundays. The church really does do good things for its community. They were the point of funding for a *I think* government-built dam. The church site serves as a soccer (football) field, volleyball court, and physical education center for the community's adult teams and school teams. The church funds the only orphanage in the area for babies 0-3 years of age (the time when babies are normally breast fed here) by providing housing, food, and caretakers. After the three years, the babies return to the household of the mother's with the live-in caretaker, who is also from the mother's family. The church's common area hosts meetings, such as a the malaria/malnutrition stakeholder meeting led by the local clinic. There is a women's group (the Christian Mother's Group) that doubles as a shea producing group and is already registered with the District Assembly as a cooperative- a group I am just starting to get involved with. They had a speaker talk about Hep B and testing after church (though it wasn't for free). And after being in a homestay and living in kind of a homestay as a volunteer, the church provides much, much needed direction and moral discussion for youth. And the majority of the people I have met and am becoming friends with in my community go to the church as well. So going to church is a win-win as a volunteer and an interesting way to spend my Sunday mornings with my community.
Generally, the service isn't that much different. I like that it reminds me of home. There is some singing, incense, bible reading, alter boys, collection, prayers, kneeling, sacrament, and a even a reading of church's upcoming events. But within these there are a magnitude of differences between mass here and mass at home:
- First and foremost, it isn't in English. The entire mass is in Gurune, and though I'm getting more and more comfortable with the language used for directions, shopping, and general greetings, the langauge at this level is currently beyond me. Needless to say, this makes it quite a long two hours. Well actually I should correct myself, there are about ten minutes of english during the two-hour mass. When this happens, the father stares directly at the one white person in the 300+ person mass, me, and summarizes his sermon in English. Though I still have trouble understanding his Ghanaian-English, I appreciate the sentiment. According to my neighbors, he didn't always do that before I came along.
- They sing the songs in English. But Ghanaians, not particularly gifted in this arena, and even difficult to understand in English generally, I usually have no idea what song they're singing. The one song that is genuinely recognizable is the first song they sing: When the Saints Go Marching In. Not, to my knowledge, a traditional church song, but I suppose it is a logical choice. They play it when everyone stands and the father of the church enters.
- What they lack in singing they make up for in dancing and drumming. This is the more local tradition coming in, and I've come to appreciate it more and more. The dancing here is a sort of elbow-y, clap-y shift from left to right. Nothing you would see in the Paso Robles Saint Rose Catholic Church.
- Collection. This can only fairly be described as a conga line. There are ushers that sort of 'release' the next row of people to join the line to what you would think was a club, not toward the alter. And the pace of the line around the church is almost faster than a trot. With the intense patterns and wide pallet of colors that make up the outfits appropriate for Sunday's best, the first couple of times I went I had to look away to keep from getting nauseous. DEFINITELY not something you would see in the Paso Robles Saint Rose Catholic Church.
- The seating arrangement. I've been assured multiple times that anyone can sit anywhere they want, but with the exception of a few late comers and the choir it's always men in one section, mothers in one section, older women in one section, children in another section, high-school aged girls in another section, and high-school aged boys in yet another section. I've never seen a family actually sit together, which is a sharp contrast to church at home.
The differences continue with almost every aspect of my days here in Ghana, and being away for the holidays is hard, but reflecting on everything makes me thankful for it and church seems to have the most parallels of all in terms of differences within something you know. I hope all is well in the states and you had a wonderful and thankful-filled Thanksgiving!
Love and miss!
Sonia
