A Change of Pace

Wednesday, June 19, 13

            Today has been a nice, relaxing day.  In terms of my research in Accra, all I lack is a thorough interview with a government official from a water or refuse company or a company interview (all of which I began this project with no intention of receiving).  A few weeks ago, I met the head biochemist for Voltic water (15 years) and Roots Water (10 years), and have been hoping to interview him to better understand the history and inner workings of the Ghanaian water industry.  After a few weeks of trying to reach him through my friend James, through his boss, Fred, and even visiting the water plant early on a Monday morning, I decided to track down his number and call him myself.  I got a hold of him, but it was a bad time – I’m waiting for a callback now.

            Other than waiting patiently, I’ve occupied the day with simple errands that I wouldn’t normally do at home.  First, laundry.  Now, I’m not saying I don’t do laundry myself, at school or at home, but I certainly don’t do it like I do in Ghana.  At almost any street vendor, one can find strings of plastic bags full of laundry detergent, for a very cheap price of about 15 cents American.  Every few days, I fill the bathroom sink with water and vigorously rub this detergent into my clothing (how dirty and bad they smell, I’d rather not discuss).  I then wash, twist, and hang the clothing on the light switch, windows – anything that will allow air to flow through.  Drying time is a little over a day.

            Also, the simple task of fetching potable water takes planning, time, and a hunting effort.  Because the tap water is possibly parasitic (I’d rather not test it) I drink bottled water, most often Voltic.  And because of the hot, humid, tropical climate, I drink a lot of water.  So, every few days, I head down the road in search of cheap water that I know to be safe.  Today, my normal corner stand was closed; it’s often run by a boy no older than ten when he’s off school.  I ended up walking the mile and some to Amasaman market to buy five 1.5 liter bottles, packing them in my REI backpack that I was lucky to buy at a used gear sale.

            Running low on phone credit, I made the two or so mile trek back to the corner of Fise junction and down an unmarked road.  I hoped to buy from a friend named John, but he was absent.  I suppose I’ll just go without cell service for a bit.  I settled for some imported “Cream Crackers” from a kind storeowner and her family instead. 

            It can be said that time moves more slowly in Ghana; however, maybe it's just the fact that time is consumed by chores that are better streamlined and automated back in the US.  There are many more examples than the ones I’ve just listed.  If you set out to do one task for the day, and you do it, it’s cause for celebration.  Meals take hours, sometimes up to three.  Public transportation can only get one so close to a destination, and taxis are often absurdly expensive; walking is the most common, reliable means to get you from where you are to where you want to go.  In one regard, it can be hard for someone like myself who is so accustomed to fast paced, studies-focused life to become tolerant of the slow pace of life here in Ghana.  

 However, there’s a lot of beauty in moving a little slower.  I talk to more people – in the street, in the public car, in the shops and hotels.  There are no strict deadlines for anything – transportation leaves when the car is full, you get to work whenever or close to an hour, and if you need to take a break from work to chat to a friend, that’s fine – work will be there later.  "Urgency" barely exists here.  However, most important to me is the fact that I have time to appreciate the life I’m living now and the life I have back home.  I’m traveling with a few possessions, moving as I please, and living a largely unscheduled, unregimented life.  There’s some expression that is said to someone overwhelmed by work and stress – “You need a change of pace.”  It’s meant to have someone ease off the throttle, to slow down, and to take a breath.  It hasn’t meant much to me so far in life – I can take a break from working or studying, but I always go back to the same task at hand with a similar determination.  Instead, finding a “change of pace” is really only possible when you move to a place where once the pace has changed, it’s not in your power to change it back.  For me, that place is Ghana.