8/23 – Dagbe, Classes, and the Bean Breakfast from Hell

I’ve been slacking the last couple of days, so this is a long one.

Went to the Dagbe Cultural Center this past weekend, and it was awesome. Dagbe is in a fishing village called Kopeyia, a couple minute drive from the coast near the Togo border. They teach Ewe drumming and dancing, basket-weaving, kente weaving, and batik and tie-dying. And we got to go swimming at the beach. The center itself is a really chill place, the staff are great, the cook is incredible, and the local kids are adorable. The guy who runs it, Emmanuel, is hysterical and has one of the best laughs I’ve ever heard. It comes out of nowhere and is over just as quickly. The Tufts program takes us there three times but I’m definitely gonna go some more on my own.

The whole center is basically two separate buildings with circular, thatch covered patio in between them. One building houses the bedrooms, dining room, and kitchen, and the other has a stage, changing rooms, and the kente looms (kente cloth is the fabric in the picture at the very top of this page). Dancing and drumming happens in the patio. Most of this trip was dancing, with breaks for drumming, weaving, and dying, but next time he said we can do more drumming. Anybody who knows me knows dancing is up there with vinegar and mustard on my shit-list, but it actually wasn’t all that bad. It was a crazy workout (I haven’t been able to walk the last couple of days), and in a way it was cool to be able to do the dancing that goes with the drumming I’ve been learning for two years. But I’m looking forward to learning some more drumming next time.

The kids who live around the center are cute as hell. During our break after lunch the first day, I sat down with a circle of them, ranging from around 2 or 3 up to 13, with one 18 year old who stopped by later, who were playing chinese jacks (the ones with all the little rings) with rocks. They went crazy when they realized I knew it, and because I could catch more at a time since I have bigger hands. It amazed me how willing they were to share, as well. Where most American kids in a group this size, and with kids this age, would have been fighting over who’s turn it was and whatever, these kids were all sharing and taking turns like I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, and they kept handing me the pile after around 2 of their turns. I was amazed. It’s cliche to say, but these kids have next to nothing of their own, and yet when I, a complete stranger who can’t speak a word of their language other than thank-you, sat down with them they were throwing the only toys they had, a pile of rocks, into my hands. I’ve really never seen anything like that before. And, unlike some of the urban kids, they never once asked for anything, other then for me to take pictures of them so they could see it on the screen. They’re really comfortable around strangers, but that might just be because they’re used to foreigners visiting the center. Either way, the youngest ones (under 4) were all making themselves comfortable in my lap within 5 minutes. There was also something really cute about 12 or so kiddy voices saying Elana, or attempting to, over and over for a few minutes straight, like its the funniest word they’ve ever heard.

They also pick things up really quickly. Drum and dance class is called into session there by the drummers, who just start to drum as they show up. When they start drumming, everyone knows to come back, including the kids, who are allowed to watch as long as they don’t get in the way. While they teach us to dance, the kids, including some who look barely old enough to be walking, start dancing in their own circles off to the side, and start and stop whenever the drums do. I’m killing the word cute today, but ya, it’s so cute. And they’re good. Some also seem to learn how to drum before they can walk, and I think they pick a lot of it up just by watching. When I was playing with the group of kids my first day, I tried to teach them my favorite hand game from the good ole’ days of camp bus rides (Slide, for those to whom that means anything), but since I had no way to explain it other then using gestures, only two of the older ones picked it up. The next evening, I went out to the dancing patio after dinner and they were all sitting there waiting to show me that they knew the game. There were even a bunch of kids who hadn’t been there the first time I tried to teach them. When I walked out they started playing and then ran over to take turns playing it with me. I’m gonna be back there in a few years, see a few kids playing it outside, and be like, yeah, I taught them that. It’s gonna be great.

Next topic: Classes

Classes officially started Monday, but the word “officially” doesn’t really carry seem to carry too much weight in this here parts. Out of 3 scheduled classes so far, I’ve only actually had one. Not that I’m really complaining, as long as they get started eventually. I love the system here, most classes are at most a 2 hour meeting once a week. What I don’t love is that I still have a bunch of classes I can’t even register for until next week because the departments need to get their shit together. Not that I really mind, more nap/exploration time for me, but it’s a little frustrating to have been here for almost a month and still not know what my schedule is going to be like for the next few months. Of the multitude of classes I’m technically registered for, I’m sure I’ll be taking Introductory Oceanography, Introductory Coastal Geomorphology, Rationalism (philosophy) and Traditional Ghanaian Social Institutions (sociology), and Twi. I’ll also probably be sitting in on Pidgin and Creole Languages (linguistics) but I need to check that out with the prof. In addition to those classes, I still need to register for all my drumming stuff, Dagbani, and possibly Ewe, which are both other Ghanaian languages. But that won’t happen until next week. Traditional Ghanaian Social Institutions is the only class I’ve actually had already, and I really liked it, which is good. The professor is straight out of the 70s, with bell-bottom pants, man-heels, a flamboyant shirt, and a mini ‘fro. Even the lecture hall feels like the 70s. But he’s engaging, knows his stuff, and the subject matter is really interesting, and from what I hear it’s an easy final exam, which is the only thing that goes into your grade here, so yeah, this one’s a keeper.

Moving on… I had a bit of malaria scare yesterday. I was completely out of it, and can’t recall having felt this sick in at least a few years. Fever, achy all over, nauseous, dizzy, the whole shabang. After a few hours, I thought to myself, way to go dumbass, you couldn’t last a month without getting malaria, but sometime around last night I started feeling better, and felt almost normal today. They still took me to get a blood test, but they didn’t see anything, and if it was malaria I would have had a higher fever and it wouldn’t have broken in a few hours. I trace it back to two bad judgement calls I made on Monday, but who knows. Monday morning I took my malaria pill on an empty stomach, which you’re not supposed to do, because I had forgotten to take it Sunday night and just wanted to take it ASAP. Around 45 minutes later, when my stomach was already hurting a little, I had a bowl of beans for breakfast at this place near the dorm where the kids who go to the university lower schools eat. Beans at any time of the day are asking for trouble, and I don’t really know what I was thinking eating them for breakfast with nothing in my stomach other than my weekly dose of mefloquine. And I ate from their bowls, which you’re not really supposed to do. My stomach was a bit off the rest of the day, but not anything more than mild discomfort. Tuesday was a whole different ball-game though. Oh well. I learned my lesson, and learned it early, so at least that’s out of the way. And at least it wasn’t malaria. Yet. I’m still scared to eat anything but fruit and plain crackers for the next few days, but I’m sure I’ll eventually cave at a whiff of some good jollof rice (my favorite local dish).

OK, that’s all. As if any of you lasted this long.