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.

Siena’s Claim to Fame

Most people that visit Siena may find it too low key for their taste. It is definitely not Florence, where there are two story clubs that keep you dancing until 3 am; its for sure not Rome, where you have to dodge cabs as you try and make it to your next destination on the “Spanish Steps Pub Crawl”; and yes the average age in Siena is somewhere between fifty and sixty years old. Yet, unlike any other Italian city, Siena’s claim to fame is its historic “Palio”, celebrated twice a year once in July and once in August, and with such large celebration that it puts Florence’s clubs and Rome’s pub crawls to shame.

The Sienese Palio is the historical horse race that takes place twice a year between the contrade (neighborhoods) of Siena in the main piazza, Piazza Del Campo. Originally these contradas were set up as small militias that were used to compose “The Army of the Republic” used as the defense military for the city, but now the seventeen contradas, which have their own affiliated animal, ranging from a porcupine to a unicorn, are mainly the differing neighborhoods with strong localized patriotism to each of their historical pasts. (more…)

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…)

Italian Food Snobbery

Going into my seventh week abroad in Italy, I am quickly realizing that I am more and more becoming an “Italian food snob.” This means that when I do eventually get back to the US, I will be the girl that is sitting at Gio’s with my friends who takes a bite of her pizza and throws it back to her plate saying, “GOD, this tastes like absolute crap compared to the pizza I would eat in Italy.” Then I would probably go into all the differences between these two slices of pizza and how no one will ever understand.

Trust me—I am not happy about this. I don’t want to be that annoying girl that comes back to school and only talks about how much better Italy is than the US, but if any one of you could try some of the food I have been exposed to, you would think that God personally reached his hand down to you and brought you up to heaven for seconds.

I think that I officially crossed the line to becoming an “Italian food snob” when I went on a field trip to Bologna with my program last weekend. Bologna—also known as “Grassa Citta” or “Fat City,”—is known for its fresh tortellini, aged Parmesan cheese, and balsamic vinegar, and a combo of all three of these things will bring you to your knees. (more…)

Pubs and Slang in Dublin Town

Hello again, everyone. I’ve been in Dublin for over a month now (the only way I’ve kept track is that I’ve used up my 30-day bus pass), and I figured I’d give you lot in the States an update on my adventures in Ireland.

First off, “How’s the crack?”

No, I’m not asking about your rear, or the quality of the cocaine. It’s craic, meaning “fun” or “good times”. So when they ask, “How’s the craic?” they just mean “What’s up?”/ “How’s it goin’?”. Little differences in slang like that can be a bit confusing for Americans when they first come to Ireland. You pick them up pretty quickly, but initially the new slang combined with a different accent (and the propensity towards mumbling that some Irish folk exhibit) can make your head spin. (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…)

A Travel Blog: This Unexpected Detour

Before leaving to study abroad, I was expecting that I would be meeting wonderful Aussies in the University of New South Wales, Australia.  I had plans to meet up with my best friend from UCSB and we were going to journey around the land down under together. After researching and putting on, what I thought was, a great impression on the EAP interviewers to be accepted into the Immersion Program, I received heartbreaking news via email that I could not go to Australia. (more…)

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