Privacy…

…is not something the Ghanaians understand, in the western sense of the word at least.  In fact I am sure if we looked at the words available in the tribal languages, ‘privacy’ would not be present (neither would you find punctuality or deodorant).  I’ve already mentioned private (of which they are not) toilet habits but the whole non privacy thing extends far further than that.  It’s so deeply cultural, so embedded, I imagine it will never leave.  On the one hand it’s deeply endearing, and on the other highly irritating (when you are having that western ‘I need some alone time/me time’ moment).

The Ghanaians live, within one large compound, often designed around a courtyard with many rooms leading onto it from 2 or three interlocked (sometimes not) single story blocks.  Not only does the immediate family live there but the extended family too.  Ages will range from babies right through to the ‘elderly’, and this dynamic never changes. Life expectancy here is around 60 years old and babies are continually being popped.  Privacy is not something for which you are or will become accustomed too in a Ghanaian household; you live with just too many people. 

 It is culturally accepted and expected that you greet everyone you pass with at least a ‘good morning’ (‘bulika’), ‘good afternoon’ (‘wunteenga’) or ‘good evening’ (‘zaanuure’).  Of which the response is always ‘naabaa’. If you have met them before then the greeting is expected to be extended to ‘how are you?’ (‘La ami nwani?’), where the stock response is ‘I’m fine’ (La ami som’) and when you are asked, your stock response is ‘I’m fine too’ whether they are or not, or you are or not.  Should you know the person well, this greeting can extend to ‘How is your father? How is your mother? How are your children?’…. We could go on…  For each, the answer will always be, ‘they are fine’. Whether they are or not.  Whether they have malaria or not.  All of this is expected in the local language, although English is understood and children will always shout ‘Solomea Hello! Hello Solomea’ until you are out of ear shot.  I make an extra special effort to greet everyone in my street and up to a few streets away as I see them daily and as it is generally considered polite here I do, whether I want to or not. I try to smile, greet with the same enthusiasm which comes to me - ‘Bulika!  La ami nwani?’  I’ll say…. Sometimes though I just can’t be bothered and by the time I reach town I have moved into ‘London mode’.  You know the one; head down, face blank, and movement with purpose.  It’s difficult though, as a ‘solomea’ you stick out a mile and there is always someone who wants to greet, shake your hand and ask how you are. 

At work the same greetings are expected but it is generally accepted that it is in English.  I have learnt that the ritual of greeting every morning is an important one and gets you far more, further down the line.  It is to this end that my walk to the office takes me on a short tour of the building; ensuring the secretaries, typists, accountants and other office officials are greeted before greeting the workers at the Link NGO office, the office directly before mine (if you are walking the long way round as I do).  I have worked out a relatively efficient way of managing this (as only a solomea could) and it doesn’t involve the lengthy Ghanaian sit down and chat version…maybe I’ll work up to that later.

I hasten to add I still only know the names of 3 people in the office (and that doesn’t include the Director - I call him ‘Director or Sir’)… for this I feel really bad but believe I am now past the point, 7 weeks in, of being able to say ‘what is your name again?’ without being super embarrassed and very offending towards whoever it is… this is why all the kids at school were called ‘Darl’ or ‘doll’.  I am utterly hopeless when it comes to British names, let alone African… Don’t even get me started on the surnames 99% (this is NO exaggeration) begin with A in Upper East Region.  Atayeta, Akapale, Abaah, Akolgo, Asoore, Akalunga, Akanyare, Akamboe, Ayelibase, Asakiwine, Akapaah, Adullah, Amoah, Anyedena…. to name but a few. 389 names later and typing these was not an easy job (and totally not capacity building either but that’s another story)… I have found out that this A makes whatever the word is, human; for example, the word could be ‘cow’ write ‘acow’ and it applies to a human…but it’s a cow!  Languages; don’t get them, never have, never will… not even my own.  Will forever remain crap at using them.

I digress, back to privacy.  It doesn’t stop at walking down the street or at the office…

You see, our compound, like most, is in the middle of a residential area (although more of a house and garden surrounding house than traditional courtyard design), every movement is known and, if you are in, the visitors visit.  Sometimes to the point of stalking.  It might be children asking for water, or a neighbour bringing cake, or a colleague popping in for a chat or… and so it goes on.  Mostly inane chat about nothing for nothing, yet it would appear absolutely necessary for this community to sustain itself, and you.  It’s this unconditional safety net which comes with all this frivolous chatter which I love; I know if something is wrong, they would help.  They have already on many an occasions, not just one family, many. 

Sometimes though, I just wish that I could lie on my bed under the fan and not be disturbed by the gate creaking outside and knowing the call of ‘Madame! Madame!’ from outside the window will shortly follow.  Sometimes, I just want to be me. Alone.  I wonder what in the western world has lead us to live such disparate lives where you can, in effect go for days without actually talking to anyone (email and facebook not counted) and be happy with it, but just an 8 hour plane ride away there are people who wouldn’t feel alive if they hadn’t spoken to many, many people throughout the course of the day, for it is this which makes them feel ‘fine’; the company of other people…many people.