Underappreciated and Undervalued

There were very few times before I came to Ghana where I found myself fervently defending my gender. Here, it feels like a daily activity. In America, gender equality is generally axiomatic. Here, misogyny seems ubiquitous.

I should have known what to expect when I came to a country where marital rape was only recently made illegal. However, coming from a place where I have been told my whole life that I am equal to a man, that I have endless opportunities, and that I can be anything I want to be, it was hard for me to truly imagine what gender relations would be like in West Africa.

Gender inequality is not entirely related to class and, somewhat surprisingly, extends into academia. During a roundtable lecture that the International Programs Office set up, a male professor was discussing issues surrounding marital rape and infidelity. A group of Ghanaian men behind me snickered and joked while the professor spoke about the problems that plague so many women here.

On a number of occasions, I have heard men laugh at women for answering questions during lecture.

Many (not all, but many) males in Ghana, do not perceive the entrapment of women in social roles as a serious issue. Women are expected to marry, have children, and submit to the will of their husband.

Men often marry young women because they believe that women age faster and men do not want to be seen with an old wife.

Domestic violence and emotional abuse against women is not uncommon. Many Ghanaian women expect that their husbands will be unfaithful—a stereotype that I absolutely believe perpetrates the issue even further.

To me, I think that the worst and most inveterate problem that women in Ghana and other developing countries face is their dependency. While working with the Liberian refugees, it has become very clear to me that women rely desperately on the support of others to survive. This, obviously, poses a huge problem if a husband or provider dies or otherwise becomes unavailable because many women are left with no basis to provide for themselves. However, I think that the biggest problem with dependency is the perceived power a man gains over a woman that enables him to believe that he can abuse her emotionally or physically.

If a woman has no means of financial independence, she often feels as though she has no options but to remain in an undesirable situation. If her husband behaves poorly, for example if he squanders what little money the family makes on alcohol, the woman can’t speak up for fear that her husband will take away the little financial support that he does give her.

This isn’t solely a problem with Ghanaian men. I have heard of a few cases of West African women who are married to Americans who hold their financial prowess over their wives heads while they cheated and behaved incredibly disrespectfully.

Is gender inequality immutable in Ghana? I personally have faith in the new options that are being presented to women here. So, what are women supposed to do to advance their position? The more I hear about microlending the more I believe that it is truly a huge step for both women and the key to advancement in the developing world. Microlending is basically a system where small loans are made to individuals, very often women, so that they can start a small business operation. Some microfinance organizations—such as Bangladesh’s Grameen Bank—make back nearly the entire amount of money that they lend out. And, best of all, the women that they loan to almost always begin to take the first steps towards achieving financial independence.

I’ve informed quite a large number of women I’ve encountered about microlending and have decided to make it one of my goals to provide as many women as I can with the contact information they need to begin the process of filing for a loan.

There are also a number of counseling groups and women’s centers. Many of these programs offer free services. I think it’s a great option for women who are unable to afford private services but could benefit from therapy, a sense of empowerment, and information about the options available to them so that they can move towards independence.

Although I’ve talked a lot about the limits of women in West Africa, there are a few females who are excellent role models. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, a woman who beat out a well-known male soccer player to seize presidency of Liberia, is just one example.

Unfortunately, women like Johnson Sirleaf are few and far between. I have always had my mother, a driven and resolute woman, as my role model. I know that there are many other Americans who have strong female figure in their lives and it saddens me to realize that there is a serious lack of that here.

With the empowerment of women, especially the young women that will make up the future generations, and the gradual end of intense male chauvinism, I think that Ghana could advance in leaps and bounds. Although it has already begun to make progress, there is much to work towards. I do not want to be naïve, overstep my bounds, or insinuate that American beliefs about the role of the female must be universal. It is very likely that Ghanaians and Americans may never see eye to eye on gender issues, and that’s ok. These two places are wonderful in their own rights, although they have extremely different cultural views in a number of areas. I just hope that, despite traditional West African culture, women can soon begin to experience some of the freedoms and independence that I take for granted every day.

The Lynch Mob

On Halloween day, I was sitting at an outdoor restaurant on campus with a friend when our conversation was interrupted by a strange commotion. We heard some shouts followed by a small stampede of Ghanaians running out of the nearby dorms, through the restaurant area, and towards the fields behind the building. I would have gone back to my business if the kitchen staff hadn’t followed the mob in hot pursuit. I was, obviously, curious about what was going on and suggested that we go outside to investigate what was going on. Upon leaving the café, I noticed a man watching the swarm of Ghanaians running.

“What’s happening?” I asked him.

“There was a thief,” he responded.

“Oh my God,” my friend said in disbelief. “It’s a lynch mob.” (more…)

Mercy’s Story

When asked, Mercy is unable to recall much of her early childhood. She does not remember a great deal about her family except that her father was a journalist and her mother ran a restaurant that was located near her home—although she claims that she does not remember where she lived. Indeed, she doesn’t remember much about Liberia at all…except for the violence.

“Always, there were a lot of shootings,” Mercy said with a note of detachment in her voice. “The soldiers would come and then they would shout and I would see people lined up. They would beat people, they would strip people naked, and then some people–well, there would be dead bodies. And people would even be stepping on the dead bodies in the streets. When I saw it, I would just get scared and I’d cry a lot.”

Mercy—now a refugee living in Ghana—fled Liberia in 1992 when she was just 7 years old after an especially bloody day in her home country.

“I just saw people running and then [the Liberian soldiers] were shooting everywhere. I was kind of running and what I could sense was that bullets were picking a lot of people out because people—a lot of people, even kids—they were just dropping on the ground. So I ran.” Mercy kept moving until she found family friends who were planning on fleeing the country. (more…)

J’taime, Togo

As I hopped on the back of a taxi-moto, the zippy motorcycles that serve as the main mode of transportation in Togo, and sped off along the brilliant coastline towards the tree-shaded boulevards, I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Au revoir, Ghana,” I thought. “Bonjour, Togo!”

When you step across the Ghanaian-Togolese border, everything changes. Togo is a world away. (more…)

Pineapples and Mangoes and Bananas… Oh My!

I think that one of the things I will miss most about Ghana when I head back to the States in three months is the endless supply of fresh produce.

Directly outside of my dormitory is a little place known as the Nightmarket. Vendors sell traditional Ghanaian food, egg sandwiches, clothing, hygienic products, CDs and DVDs… and, most wonderfully of all, an incredible amount of fruits and vegetables.

I probably go to the fruit stand about 2-3 times per day and I always visit the same woman: Olivia (Oh, Olivia, Olivia, how I love my darling Olivia!). I frequent this Goddess of All Things Fruity so often that, if I don’t stop by after I’ve picked up the veggies I need to cook my dinner, she asks me the next morning where I’ve been. I feel like I’m cheating on her if I go to another vendor, even if it’s only because Olivia doesn’t have the avocados that I need to make guacamole.

Ghana has taught me to answer the question, “Wow, can I really eat a whole pineapple in one sitting?” With a resounding, “Yes.  I.  Can!”

The acid may make my entire mouth raw, but that doesn’t stop me from finishing the last few bites! I’m a survivor.

On an average day, I generally consume one or two bananas, an apple, a whole pineapple, and perhaps some mango or starfruit or an avocado. My fruit consumption is absolutely astounding here… but can you really blame me? It’s all so delicious and the flavor is so much more intense than American fruit. Plus, with prices that set avocados and pineapples at a measly 1 cedi a pop (roughly 60 cents), how can I resist?

The stand neighboring Olivia’s belongs to a sweet older woman named Ama who sells the best veggies in the whole market. Noting how often I frequent her stand, she has taken to giving me an extra tomato or green pepper whenever I get produce from her… which, like Olivia, is basically on the daily.

I try to ebb my seemingly never-ending cravings for American food by creating Ghanaian alternatives with my endless supply of produce. I have made great use of my dormitory’s only cooking device — a hotplate. Yes, I am now a proud hotplate connoisseur.

With a simple aluminum pot, I’ve whipped up such glorious creations as Asian vegetable stir-fry, curried vegetables, huevos rancheros and burrito bowls (complete with guacamole and plantain chips), garlic bread, a variety of pasta dishes, and so much more. My roommate can breathe a sigh of relief now that I’ve finally stopped complaining daily about how much I miss Freeb!rds.

Truth be told, the produce here is absolutely mind blowing. Although… I could still really go for some nachos right now.

Shirts for School

The first time I looked into the tiny room where “Mommy” Regina and the 10 children she cares for sleep, I heard a voice that was so loud and so clear that it sounded like there was somebody literally speaking to me out loud. Except, the voice was my own and it was definitely inside my head. It said, and this is an exact quote, “Your life will never be the same.” (more…)

The Music Video

Long story short, I have a friend who works at a radio station where she met a Ghanaian guy who has connections to the relatively famous Ghanaian hiplife group called 4×4. I had heard of these connections through the grapevine but didn’t think too much about it until my friend asked me, “Hey, so do you want to be in a music video?”

To which I responded soundly, “Hell yes, I want to be in a music video!” (more…)

Turning Down Busta for Buduburam

On Friday, I was invited to attend a Busta Rhymes concert in Accra the next night by the hiplife group whose music video I was in (which is a long story for another blog post). They would purchase my tickets for me, I would sit in the V.I.P. section, and I was invited to attend the exclusive after-party.

It sounded like a good time… but I declined. I had plans to spend the weekend at the Liberian Buduburam Refugee Camp. (more…)

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