Day 33

A friend of mine (a black American who travels to Ghana frequently) wrote this to me:
“You know you are really in the TRUE Ghana now. It took time for me to realize the depth of disconnect between our cultures. And the absolutely fascinating means and measures some will go to ‘engage’ and endear themselves to you for their eventual ‘unfair’ gain. You are in a very complex society. We are much simpler in our traditions and social rules. One point, Ghanaians are for Ghanaians. And many are traditionally truly down for their ‘tribe’. You are not a part of that family. You are to be used for gain. That does not mean your work and purpose should cease. Like we say here… don’t hate the player hate the game, and that game over there is soul draining. So your purpose has to be that much bigger than that game. Can you develop real relationships? Or just arrangements? The jury is out on that for me. You can begin to see a very interesting thing maybe…being both desired and despised.”
This really got my head spinning in some interesting ways. So this post may be a bit disjointed at some points so bare with me.

It’s an odd feeling being here. Like the new kid on the block. The new kid in school that everyone looks at, points at, and wants to know more about. But the thing is, in school, the newness dies down after awhile. The new kid isn’t so new anymore. You become like everyone else at one point or at least not so noticeable. It’s not so odd anymore. But odd isn’t an all-encompassing word for how I feel here. It’s odd, fantastic, frustrating, intriguing, educational, and yes… odd. I had been wanting to come to Ghana since I took Akan Twi in undergrad. Then I became an African American and African Studies master’s student. Studied. Came last summer and now I’m here again. I came to learn, help, and immerse myself in ways that I wasn’t able to when I came last summer with my study abroad program. But this immersion has having its drawbacks. Rather, the things that I experienced before are intensified possibly because I’m here longer and I’m getting more and closer interactions. I knew, before I came last summer, that I will always get the, what I call, “oburini price” (spelling uncertain) anytime I want to purchase goods or services. Meaning, because I am an American (or a foreigner) my taxi fares and any other purchases will always be offered at a higher price. Although that may be normal here (meaning even if you are an African from another place you may get a higher price but I doubt not it’s as high as American or European prices), I can’t help but always wonder if I’m being cheated because of the way I look. Its like being black and being discriminated against by blacks in a land full of black people. As a black American and a Black Studies major, it’s so ironic and disheartening. It’s like some sort of neo/intra-racism or something. Blacks in the US were and still are discriminated against because of the way we look. Ideas that laid the foundation for colonization were based on racist enlightenment ideas that said all Africans and their descendants are and will always be subhuman and in need of white people’s guidance (white paternalism). US and Caribbean slavery and colonization were systems guided by phenotypic discrimination and monetary gain. Is not the “oburini price” system simply another form of exploitation on a smaller scale? Maybe so, but what happens when we look at the global picture. For hundreds of years African agricultural, human, and other resources have been used to fill the coffers and banks or Americans and Europeans: legitimate trade, market boards, structural adjustment programs, 48% and higher interest loans, illegal shipment of guns into war-torn countries, contamination of water and other resources etc. etc. etc. So, is “oburni price” a form of retribution or simply a hustle that helps people survive? Can either be justified? ….There is something to be said about ambiguity in the US. From very young you are taught, in a variety of ways (whether it be through school, media, family, what have you), that there are different people in the world. People who look different, sound different. And even if you aren’t formally taught that, you can see it on daily basis. (I would argue, for MOST Americans). So, if I am walking down the street in, let’s say D.C. or even my small hometown Ocala, everybody will not be staring at me. And if they do, they will at least speak. Say hi. There isn’t a day that goes by without someone staring me down or yelling oburni. In pockets I don’t have a problem with it. Its not like I have never be stared at in the US. But not by so many people so often. But I knew before I came that I would stick out like a sore thumb. I will always be looked at as the new kid on the block. I don’t have a problem with that. What I am having trouble with, is all that seems to come with that territory. Last summer about one-third of my conversations with Ghanaian men went something like this:
“Whats you name?”
“Where are you from?”
“Are you married?”
“Do you have any kids?”
“We should get married.”
This happened at least 20 times from the biggest city to the smallest. Every time I had fun with it and usually said something like, “I’m free tomorrow around 1.” We were told that they are only asking to marry you so they can get a green card. And, given many US norms, many Americans who argue that people don’t normally ask someone to marry them the same day they meet them. They are either joking or they want something from you. I took it as most of them were joking, but some continued to talk about how they need to go to US and how I should help them etc etc. Sometimes it stopped being fun and it became something else. A pleading of sorts. Desperation. It made me uncomfortable. But I found that only certain men approached me in those ways. I met a substantial amount of young rich Ghanaians driving Hummers, BMWs, Mercedes, etc. They took us out, showed us a good time, drove us around and didn’t ask anything from us. Not a number, email, nothing. No mention of US or any of those things. Just wanted to hang out and I had some great times. So it began to feel like only some low-income men consistently talked about marriage and getting to the US. But its wasn’t all. We had just as much fun with the waiters at the hotel and they didn’t worry us with hopes and dreams about the US and how they needed us to get them there. But it still feels odd. Regardless, it always felt like we were getting unnecessary attention. So that brings me to my friend’s statement. “…And the absolutely fascinating means and measures some will go to ‘engage’ and endear themselves to you for their eventual ‘unfair’ gain.” This sparked a thought. Could it be that we, Americans (maybe more so black Americans) already have a heightened sense of “otherness” in the US and that “otherness” feeling is ironically tripled when we are in Africa. The heightened concern of whether or not you are being taken advantage of on a daily basis (from the tro tro fare to fabric) could it be that those who obviously want something from us are also affecting our perception of those who don’t? I have realized that this heightened concern is mentally draining and I wondering in the back of my mind if I’m getting unfair treatment (whether someone is giving me an exorbitant price or treating me extra nice to the dismay of a Ghanaian in my same position). I wonder if that heightened sense will ever go away. I miss the land of set prices where if I get screwed that meant everyone else did too. Or if I got a good price everyone had the same opportunity to get the same.
The friend also said, “Ghanaians are for Ghanaians. And many are traditionally truly down for their ‘tribe’. You are not a part of that family. You are to be used for gain.” This stings a little. But I find truth in it in ways. For example, I have had discussions with Ghanaians and have done research on intra-racism/inter-ethnic biases in Ghana where some ethnic groups look down upon or are warned not to marry other ethnic groups. These biases don’t just happen in Ghana but also happen all over the world, but being entrenched in it and to possibly be affected by it is something else. I have a friend doing research in a rural city in India. We were discussing the progress of our trips the other day. He jokingly told me that there is a secret mission to get him married before he leaves since in their culture, to be 24 and not have a wife and kids is odd. But he told me that marriage where he is, is not so much about love but about strengthening families. You marry up or laterally. Not down. So marriage can be a great avenue for opportunist. But its not that different in the US. Women and men with little to no education or skills, marries someone with money. I don’t know if its just more obvious where my friend is, if we are paying more attention to it because we are foreigners or if it really is that different. It’s hard to not be ethnocentric. There is no such thing as a tabula rasa. I can’t NOT be who I am. And I can’t NOT see things from a perceptive informed by where I come from. It’s difficult.
Here comes the disjointed thoughts:
• So the heightened sense of concern for oburini treatment can make forming serious relationships a little difficult. It’s an odd feeling to walk around as if you have a spotlight on you and wondering if the person is paying attention to you because of the spotlight and the assumption that come with that spotlight or not. I just want to turn the spotlight off. In the Indian community where my friend is researching, virtually no one has seen a black person before. So they call him “gora cola” (spelling also uncertain) which means “black, white person.” Similarly here, Ghanaians call me “oburini”, a term often used for a white person. The difference here is that most Ghanaians have seen black Americans before, whether it is as visitors or on television and movies. Regardless, I am grouped with any and all Americans. (Which brings up and an interesting lack of understanding or care of race dynamics around the world but I digress until maybe another time.) All over the world, Americans are perceived as rich. I had a very long discussion with a black South African consulate and she said to me, “America is a great advertiser. I came here thinking the best of the best was here. Everyone lives comfortable lives, everything is clean… I was sadly mistaken.” But this grouping of black and white Americans and the idea of begin wealthy begins to clash with the stereotypes of black Americans seen through movies and hip hop. I continue to battle stereotypes of black Americans with whites and, unfortunately, with Africans from all over the continent. The South African also said, “I’m surprised at how much you know about Africa, given how ignorant most black Americans are.” I paused. Made an effort not to get angry and then I said, “Remember, America is a great advertiser. There are a lot of things America wants you to believe. You must remember who is giving you the information and what they have gain from you believing it.” She paused and gave a contemplative nod. What was most aggravating is that I met her at a movie premiere of a documentary on Hospice care of HIV/AIDS patients in South Africa. Since my research focuses on perceptions of blacks in media in an open forum, I had a discussion with the director and the producer about how the movie is not about upliftment, rather is perpetuates stereotypic ideas of Africa and does not successfully add a new body of knowledge to Americans lack understanding of the happenings in Africa. I am fighting against the stereotypes in her country yet she comes to me, an international figure, with stereotypes. So disheartening. I’m not just grouped with Americans. Its not just that I’m American. I’m a black American which carries a whole other set of beliefs and assumptions that become compounded when I travel abroad. Like the odd clash of cultures when I greet a Ghanaian with the local language “Maakye” and they greet me with “What’s up.” It’s as if we greet each other with what we think is appropriate. Or when people think I live and act a certain way because I’m a black American. But they get upset when Americans perceive them a certain way and want to get mad about it, while I attempt to make it a learning experience because I have to deal with it all the time. An interesting conundrum. Lack of/miscommunication.

I wonder if Africans think of how they think of us instead of being so focused on how we perceive them. There are perceptions on both sides but rarely do both get addressed.

• Hip hop and hiplife are vibrant here in Ghana. But how many listeners and artists here know and understand where hip hop came from? Do they understand how disenfranchisement, discrimination were the driving forces of so much black music? Thus, going back to the “n” word conversation (see previous posts).

• I have two favorite classes I love to teach as a graduate teaching assistant in African American and African Studies. First is Bebop to Hip hop is a class were students learn the direct connections between west African rhythm patterns and those in African American music from ragtime and blues to rock n roll (created by black Americans…little known fact, see Chuck Berry among others) and hip hop. It seems that, at times, black Americans want to find a deeper connection to Africa. Not all, but some. But so many Africans don’t identify in that way. I think many black Americans want a deeper connection because the history we are given about blacks in the US and Africans is wretched. It’s either grounded in slavery or the supposed backwardness of African civilizations. Many times black Americans go to Africa and expect to be embraced as some sort of long lost brother or sister (Ghana has began this Joseph Project which I have some serious mixed feelings about…maybe more thoughts on that later). But they aren’t. And I don’t see that as a problem on the side of the Africans, but I do think it is unfortunate that some black Americans don’t search to find or understand how identity is constructed in most of Africa. Identity is based on familial clans (your family name) and ethnicity/language (whether you are Ga, Ewe, Fante, Asante, Yoruba, Hausa, Ebo, Khoi Khoi, etc). Race doesn’t matter. Everyone is the same race. (Probably because race is a fictitious concept created by Europeans but I digress...)As black Americans, most of us can’t identify in those terms because the indigenous names of our ancestors were stripped from them and most of us don’t know where our ancestors originated from. Not to mention that since many areas like the Caribbean shipped Africans from various communities, even if we did know, we would still have ancestors from multiple ethnicities and families. But there are other black Americans, who find a great deal of pride in the US legacy black Americans have and simply find Africa to be an intriguing and educational place. For example, there is a phenomenon called African retentions. There is a belief that many black Americans psychologically retain various traits in West African culture that they may not know they have retained. Often times, these traits are retained in the Caribbean where many transported Africans had a greater deal of autonomy to retain many cultural traits and southern parts of the US were many black Americans live. For the US arguably, this is so, because in the Deep South, many Africans could not escape slavery because they were too far away from the closest Free State. So some of the West African norms stayed. One thing that I found interesting were the funerals Ghanaians call a “Home Call” and what my people back home say is a “Home Going”. A Home Going is a celebration. There is music, food, excitement and of course, sadness, but you are happy that the person lived their life and is now in a better place. I remember when I was in high school and I was on the dance team. My teammate’s father died. A white girl. The team went to the funeral to support her. I remember the atmosphere being so sad and quite. Very solemn. I didn’t understand why everyone was so sad. I remember asking my dance teacher why everyone was so sad and her reply was, “its a funeral.” I went to a funeral here in Ghana. Interestingly, it was just like a Home Going. People were dancing, shouting, crying, and praising. There was energy in the place. If this is an African retention, along with the musical traditions, then these are just a small examples of how black Americans are not so distant from west Africans, but there is still a disconnect. We are seen as Americans first.

The other class is African history colonial and post colonial. In this class, I really love to discuss neocolonialism, the issues with “world powers,” the UN, the World Bank, the World Court and underdevelopment of countries and how all of these entities assist in keeping “third world” countries in the third world and how developing countries somehow never get developed. It’s interesting to get students who have so many negative thoughts about Africa and then show them how US (and maybe even their individual actions) assist in maintaining those negative perceptions whether it’s through policy, media, consumerism or what have you.


• I never felt more American than I do here. And I was never particularly proud of being an American. To be black, yes. To be American… ummm. Kind of like the way James Baldwin put it, “But America is the house of bondage for the Negro, and no country can rescue him.” Or as Michelle Obama said, she, for once, was proud to be an America. Not too many Americans of color wondered why it took her so long. Hmm, maybe more thoughts to come.

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