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Tuesday, 18 June 2013

*Almost* a Normal Day


Tuesday June 18, 13
            This week has provided a wonderful opportunity for me to catch up on some non-Mellon related work as well as recuperate and even relax a bit. After my blog post yesterday, I finished reading Trzebiatowska & Bruce’s “Why Are Women More Religious Than Men?”  Although a shorter read than Fannon’s book, I found it mildly interesting, but alike most sociology texts, ultimately inconclusive.  This morning, I took my normal breakfast before retiring to my room to write a paper on the book.  It took me a few hours to knock out eight pages, the last of which I took breaks to talk to Pamela, one of the housekeepers here. 
            Pamela is a fresh employee here at the Joy Family lodge.  A perky, talkative Ghanaian, Pamela used to work at a youth radio station before suffering terrible burns on her hands and arms from an undisclosed accident.  After recovering in the hospital for several months, she was released, only to find her pervious position unavailable.  She applied here for a receptionist position, but ended up getting the housekeeping job only some two and a half weeks ago – right before I left for Sogakope.  She told me all this two evenings ago and when she was cleaning my room.  She plans to leave this job upon her first paycheck because the work here is boring, and understandably, doesn’t pay that well.  “I’m tired,” is a phrase she answered me with when I asked why she wouldn’t stay here, a phrase that is better understood as “the work here is tiring.”  She asked to be my “escort,” not in the traditional sense of the word, but instead “the one who carries your bag” – a Sherpa.  I jokingly shook it off.
            After making it to town and completing a personal errand, I walked from one side of Circle to Amasaman station, through a sea of cell phone salesmen.  It’s common when walking in these crowded streets to be cat called with a “TSSSST” noise, to be asked where you’re going, even to be grabbed by the arm and physically stopped in ones tracks – all of which happened to me multiple times this afternoon and indeed every day.  
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            I made it to the station, and strangely, no “mates” were calling to fill the cars.  The line of normal Trotros was still present, so I hopped in the first one at the head of the line, casually asked the passengers if it was heading to Amasama, and one man replied “Saul, Saul!” meaning it was going through Amasaman to Saul.  As I moved down the rows, something caught my eye – a bright spot on the floor.  As I shuffled down the isle, the spot changed colors; it wasn’t a spot at all, it was a large hole in the floor, at least 7 inches in diameter.  I moved two rows behind it, and sat down, only to notice a small hole by the feet of the person sitting next to me.  The trotro eventually filled and we headed on the correct direction, so I sat back and relaxed a bit. 
            When it was time to give the mate some money, I handed out my 1 Cidi and said “Pokuase” –a stop I knew with a foreign exchange. He replied “One Cidi ten Pesewas.”  Hmm, that’s odd; Pokuase is closer than Amasaman, and I was getting charged more?  I handed him a 5, and he kept gathering money, eventually handing me 3 cidis and saying “I’m coming.”  Apparently I wasn’t the only one being over charged.  My neighbors were shouting in Twi, 10 pesewas, and the man to my right – noticing my confusion – said, “Ah!  He’s a cheater!”  Several men demanded to be let off at the next stop.  Meanwhile, a man in a colorful collared shirt who had stood up at the front of the trotro had begun yelling, chanting.  I was a bit confused, but no one paid much attention to this man.  He was very loud, and after about five minutes, I gathered he was preaching Christianity.  Every few minutes, I’d hear “Bible” or “Amen,” to which the congregation on the bus would also say “Amen.”  When the response was quiet, he would say something in Twi that I imagine translates to “I can't HEAR you!” and a louder “Amen” would be generated.  As my stop approached, I got my backpack ready.  We passed the stop.  I chewed out the mate, and people around me said “Oh, sorry,” and they deposited me on the roadside.  I would have asked for my change that I was owed, but I really wanted to get out of the trotro.  Another interesting day here; I almost made it a day with nothing out of the ordinary happening!

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