The Village Stay Day Three:

The purpose of the village stay is for us to experience the reality of subsistence farming in Northern Ghana. To achieve this we live in a host family for at least a week. During that time we live, eat and go through life as they do. 

This morning I ate my porridge leftover from last night; it tastes really good cold. I keep telling Mamunatou “Boila Boila Kandzra”. Which loosely means I eat very little. It doesn't seem to work. Maybe I should get someone else to help me translate.

Women do most of the chores around the compound. During Ramadan they are up at 3 am and you don't see them going idle until after dark when the meal is over. They usually leave the dirty dishes and pots to be washed the next day when there is daylight. These are beautiful strong women growing old fast. Mamunatou is tall and strong with beautiful features; she has a well proportioned figure except for her sagging breasts that are hard at work feeding the fourth kid. She has the facial scars that some tribes still carve on the face or their new born. I hear that the origin of the scarification goes all the way back to the early days of slavery. Small tribes were always weary of having more powerful tribes attacking them and stealing their people to be sold to the Portuguese, the Dutch or the British. The white men didn't have to venture inland. Local tribes were just happy to oblige, for a price.

Her four children and her husband don't have the scars, one of her 13 year old nieces has the same scars as her. You still see children and infants with the scars but the practice seem to be losing popularity.

Mamunatou is a warm person with a huge heart even if once in a while she come across as a tyrant. When I have my bucket shower I am not allowed to get my own water to the stall; once I tried and she let me know in no uncertain term that I am not to do it myself. I didn't need a translator for this one. I think that she hides the bucket I am supposed to use just to make sure that I don't try to sneak by her. Same when I tried to wash my own shirt, she dragged me all the way to my room to make sure I was giving her all of my dirty clothes. I could spare my boxer shorts and I later hide them with my towel and washed them while taking my bucket shower.

For the family it's a great honor to be my host and it reflects good for their status in the community; it a sign of great trust that Mustapha, the Agriculture Extension Agent, ask them to host me. They are going out of their way to live up to this honor. I am having a hard time with the food but I appreciate the fact they are doing what they believe is extra special treatment.

In the afternoon we sat with a few of the members of Abdulai Farmers Group. I had an interesting exchange with the secretary of the group that went like this:

You are not a Muslim so what are you?

I am a Christian (in these parts you can be any religion and they will accept you, but if you are a non believer they will never leave you alone until you are saved).

Why are you fasting if you are not a Muslim?

My host is fasting and I want to join him in his practice. Maybe by fasting I can understand him, and the people of the village better.

But if you want to try to be a Muslim you should do it all: the fasting and the teaching and the prayers?

A tree doesn't just become a tree, it is first a seed and then has to be a twig before becoming a mature strong tree that will bear fruits. Maybe all I can be for now is a twig (for this part I used some of the on hand props and sign language)

Aren't you are a little old to be a twig?

Well, that year the Agricultural Extension Agent was very busy and the farmers never got their fertilizer and that is why I never was able to properly grow and I am still a twig...

They laugh heartily and slap their legs and one of them pinched my cheek (I have no idea what it means).

Came dinner I ate what I could, especially the chicken. After supper Mamunatou ask me to play "Shark Tails", the kids movie I had already shown in the afternoon. Because of the dark we could do it outside and we had a little stool for the computer and two long benches. Most of the viewers were adults with a fair share of elders. I counted close to 20 people watching at one time. As they watched they kept talking very loud and laughing, pointing at the screen.

The battery ran out three quarter of the way and although most didn't get to see the end it didn't seem to matter. They were just all happy to watch some of it even if they didn't understood the dialogue..

9:30 pm is late when you wake up at 3am.

Dom