Well, it’s been a packed week with international student orientation, but since classed haven’t started yet I’ve had the chance to think through some things at my leisure. We took a trip to a really crowded market in the nearby area of Madina. All ISEP students took tro-tro’s (sketchy mid-sized vans that run different routes around the city) there, but once we arrived we finally got the chance to split up. This was the first time I’d gotten to do my own thing since I’ve arrived, to I was pretty excited about getting to explore independently. However, the grossly overcrowded and fast-paced area did seem like the typical spot where out-of-towners can get got. Needless to say, I did my best to make it seem like haggling with Ghanaian merchants over buckets and cloth were an everyday occurrence for me.
Before I proceed, I should mention how tricky it’s been spending Ghanaian currency. The cedi is the standard unit here, but as of July 1st of this year, the old currency is being phased out with a new unit that’s actually worth more than the U.S. dollar. Until this point, about 10,000 cedis were equal to about 1 U.S. dollar. Funny thing is, although the currency’s changed, most people still act like there are three zeros in front of the digits on small bills. For example, if I’m trying to buy something for 3 and a half cedis, a merchant may request thirty five thousand cedis. (Or something like that, give or take a zero. Clearly this is new to me.) As you can imagine, trying to keep that conversion straight, along with different sized bills of various colors and small, illegible coins, make price negotiations more than a little nerve-racking.
This confusion brings me to my main point here. I ended up picking up some cash from the ATM today and picked me up a bucket, hangers, some other household items for the hostel room. Throughout the purchasing process, I felt hopelessly conspicuous among hundreds of merchants and buyers seamlessly maneuvering through the crowds. Passing through scores upon scores of booths selling hot commodities like textile, cell phone chargers, and salvation, I realized that I caught the eye and turned the head of most passersby. I felt bad for Jason with the whole “Rasta” madness, but this was the first time I really felt like a walking spectacle myself. As I negotiated through the crowds, I sometimes overheard children exclaiming that they had spotted an “oburoni.” Initially, I had heard that this word in reference to white westerners, especially from the US and the UK. Clearly, I didn’t take kindly to the gringo-esque appellation, but there wasn’t much I could say or do without home court advantage. I did learn later on that the word had come to designate a Ghanaian outsider who is unfamiliar with the local culture. Despite the slightly altered meaning, the word has the same meaning- you ain’t down. Finally, one woman hawking goods attempted to gain my attention by shouting “hey oburoni! Come buy something from me.” Exasperated, I turned to her with a smile and asked her why I had to be an oburoni. “I know I wasn’t raised in Ghana, but aren’t we all brothers and sisters here? That’s what I’ve been told by other Ghanaians.” I don’t really know what compelled me to ask her this grossly naïve yet loaded question at the time, but I was really curious to hear her rationalization of my identity through a West African lens. Unfortunately, my only response from her was a sheepish grin, and with a opportunistic gleam in her eye she warmly replied “I’m sorry, my brother, you no longer oburoni. NOW, would you care to buy some cloth?!” Wow. This was one of a few incidents today where a Ghanaian attempted to exploit my sense of Diasporic solidarity to make a quick buck. Come on, ya’ll- patronizing me and preying on my Afrocentrity? That’s a low blow.
This incident left a bad taste in my mouth, and while browsing through the market with a feigned air of intentionality I began to ponder some questions. I wondered- if I were in Amsterdam, Berlin, London, Paris or Prague, would I gain the same reception? Granted, none of the aforementioned cities are the same and it’s dangerous to over generalize, but would I even turn that many heads in a majority-white environment? Yea, it depends on the specific location, and I guess folks in some European locales are more accustomed to visible outsiders, but would I be the subject of so much unwanted attention? Furthermore… well, by now you can see where I’m going with this. If being an African American in America creates a “double consciousness” like W.E.B. DuBois says it does (for my non-Africana scholars: Google it), being an African American in Africa adds another dizzying layer of meta-consciousness that raises many questions. Clearly, these are all conceptions of self as viewed by others, and living by standards like these usually aren’t productive. After a while, I started ignoring it, but I can’t help but view this as a macrocosm of Yonkers MC Jadakiss’s statement on his status the music industry: “Too black for MTV, too white for BET.” The story of my life, right? I’m here for personal reasons, and while there isn’t any monolithic sentiment on African Americans by Ghanaians, it would be nice to feel welcome.
Luckily, I later linked up with a UGh student named Kakra, a friend of Nana and Anand (My boys from Penn who studied here Fall ’06.) I spoke with him briefly about this racial vs. nationalist dilemma, and he seemed to really understand where I was coming from. He explained that while ancestors of people like me may have emigrated against their will, West Africa would always be home. The way he extolled the virtues of Pan-Africanism would have made any Garveyite proud, and he did a great job of rationalizing my experience. Speaking on behalf of many of his peers, he declared, “Even though you are not from here, we are always happy to see Black Americans return home.” He encouraged me to familiarize myself with local customs, make an effort to learn conversational Twi (the local indigenous language I being studying next week), and just try to immerse myself in the experience as much as possible. He assured me Ghanaians would be very tolerant and accepting of my presence if I made an honest effort to remain open-minded. Because of the multi-tiered cultural connections that Ghanaians share, (especially in this, their 50th year of independence) it’s difficult to try to identify with most in even a vague sense. Despite the obstacles it’s caused for me, this beautiful combined sense of racial, ethnic, and national pride here is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I could go on, but suffice it to say that when you don’t live in a country of immigrants, (read: US o’ A) there tends to be a serious amount of solidarity. Must be nice.
I rambled a lot here (but that’s what blogs are for, aren’t they?), so I guess typing out these random thoughts help me make sense of it all. If you made it this far, thanks for reading along, and feel free to post a comment below. I wanna know what ya'll think of this whole idea.
3 comments:
Hayling-
Deep words my man. Even though I lack the Af-Am knowledge you've acquired, I definitely feel where you're coming from. I've been back home (Accra and Amonokrom for me) three times, most recently last aummer, and even though I understand Twi, i still sense the divide between me and most of the people i meet there. Anyway, just wanted to let you know i'm gonna stay up on your blog. Also, if you need anything, I've get PLENTY of family over there. If you ever need anything, just let me know and I'll relay the message. We'll have to talk more when you get back on campus. Peace.
h-
your blog is exceptional. spot on. i will be sure to come back here often.
concerning your sense of alienation--i.e. standing out in crowds, being called "oburoni"--i have a sense of what you mean. this summer, i spent 5 weeks living and traveling in rural peru. in the andes, as with much of latin america, white people are referred to as "gringos," regardless of nationality. i even witnessed some young children picking on a fair-skinned friend, calling him gringo. with my white skin and american appearance i blatantly stood out. a walk down a street, a trip to a market, or even a rest on a public bench was incomplete without someone approaching me uttering the words, "perdón gringo alto..."
i immediately gave up hope trying to blend in, but i did feel uncomfortable being such a labeled outsider. my ability to speak the language helped in more protracted interactions, but for my entire stay, i never felt like a visible part of the community (regardless of the volunteer work i was doing in local schools.)
compared to my experience, you seem to be in a different society with a different racial context. however, you description of oburoni-ness brought back some familiar feelings and thoughts. perhaps homogeneous cultures often use terminology and a set of attitudes to deal with outsiders. lord knows that globalization is bound to create some slang.
good luck with everything...
also, i love the album. i've been disseminating it amongst many atliens.
Hayling -
I really felt what you wrote about being treated as an outsider, an "oburoni". No doubt, I come from a different background than you, but I don't think it's a race, or even a class, thing. I spent a few months in South Africa last year, and being white and privileged in a country that's still very much stratified along racial and class lines, I was scared of being shunned - not overtly, but like you said, people subtly suggesting that I'm not down. But after spending time there, you know, I just learned that people are people and that's all there is.
Some of the black South Africans I met loved me and some tried to hustle me. Some were "conscious" and some were only thinking about putting bread on the table. I went into SA imagining that there was some sort of underground African brotherhood, like a public sphere out of the public eye where the real shit went down, and if I wanted to learn anything I was gonna have to crack that circle. But it didn't exist. People in SA, people in Ghana, people in the States - take away all the external factors, governments, economics, and I just feel like they all boil down to the same, or at least analogous, formulas. The woman in the marketplace trying to capitalize on your Afrocentricity really isn't that much different from the homeless trying to take advantage of someone lending a helping hand. Neither of them are bad people, they're just trying to get paid.
Anyway, this is your blog, not mine. Keep it real and keep posting.
peter richman
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