November 16th, 2009

I had a moment this week-end when I realized how lucky I am: I was sitting on the breezy terrace of Giddipass, a restaurant in downtown Tamale, with the ladies who have become my good friends here (the German Julias and Joyce) drinking freshly made pineapple juice in a skirt and tank top in MID NOVEMBER! It wasn’t just that it’s still warm (last Monday Razak told me it got up to +40 degrees), or that the fruit is freshly grown with the prices of my dreams! (I eat a mess of oranges, pineapples, watermelons, and bananas daily and probably pay the equivalent of $2) or even that I gave in and had my first cup of coffee in over a month… it was about the people I was with. The Julias and I have formed a sort of temporary family; we meet in the evenings in front of our rooms for some fruit or a chat, and then usually wander out somewhere for supper. We take care of each other (older Julia and I went on a mission to find Cappucino Nescafe for younger Julia this week-end, and young Julia serves up bread with her Nutella every evening), and support each other. It’s wonderful to have a place to talk about how work has been going, news from home or even just to admit when your stomach’s not feeling well. Over the week-end Joyce joined our family.

My moment of realization came on Saturday morning while we were eating breakfast before venturing out to the Central Market. The plan for Saturday was simple: batik! We’d all decided that the perfect gifts for friends and family would be a skirt, a handbag, a dress or a change purse made from traditional batik fabric. Joyce offered to take us to the Market to shop for the batik, and show us her favourite stores and help us negotiate prices. We started the day with pancakes and the pineapple juice from Giddipass, and by the time breakfast was over Joyce was a solid part of the international family, and older Julia had notes for four new articles she wanted to look into.

I’d thought that I had been to the market before, but I soon came to realize I had only flirted with the Central Market before, exploring its edges. Saturday we dove in head first! The Central Market is an outdoor, open air market where (mostly women) have stalls selling fabric, vegetables, beans, rice, household wares, jewellery, pre-made clothes: you name it, it’s there! In the midst of the stalls are women walking up and down the paths (about wide enough to barely let two people pass at once), with their wares balanced on their heads selling pure ice water, dried fish, fruit—anything that can fit on a tray or in a bowl. I am every day amazed by the balance exhibited by Ghanaian women. Late last week I saw an elderly woman driving on a bicycle (a rare sight itself, I’ve noticed it is mostly men who drive bicycles—and foreign interns) with a huge metal tub filled with bread balanced on her head. I can barely balance my laptop and breakfast on my bike in the morning, and they’re in my front basket! I can’t imagine carrying your whole livelihood on your head to sell; can you imagine if you’re selling dried fish, and you trip? The whole potential for the day’s profit would be lost to the dusty ground.

…but back to the Central Market. I could spend hours and hours happily lost inside wandering the paths. The colours of the vegetables—red tomatoes, purple onions, yellow peppers piled on tables, next to a stall draped with tye dye batik, which is beside a woman selling handmade beaded bracelets and necklaces. It’s loud, it’s dusty and I love it! I lost count how many batik stalls we visited, but each of us came out of the market after four hours with at least 10 yards of fabric each. Of all the vendors there is one woman who sticks out in my head the most. We visited her stall near the end of our time in the market, because some of her purple and white fabric caught young Julia’s eye. We stopped outside her stall, took off our shoes and browsed her draped fabrics. Julia took the purple fabric, and I found a colour perfect for someone I wanted to have something made for. While Julia was paying for her fabric I wanted to take a photo of older Julia and Joyce sitting on the table amongst the fabrics. When the lady saw me take the picture of Joyce and Julia she insisted that I take a photo of her, young Julia and the fabrics as well. I think it’s my best picture in Tamale so far, mostly because whenever I look at it I can’t help but smile at how wonderful this lady was.

That’s really been the big part of why I’ve fallen so deeply in love with Tamale (and I’m head over heels in love with it!): the genuine kindness of almost everyone I’ve met here. I know that I keep mentioning it again and again, but I don’t think that I can express enough how wonderful people have been to me. On Sunday when we were in town young Julia and I bought some grilled plantain. While we were at a supermarket (think a small cornerstore) buying some water sachets Julia must have dropped the plantain, because about five minutes later a boy who had been working in the store with his mother came running up to me sweating and panting to return the plantain we had dropped. We thanked him profusely and tried to buy him a coke as a thank you, but he only smiled and shook his head. I told him that we would visit their store anytime we’re in town, and tell everyone about it!

Late last week I realized that I had to extend my visa. In order to extend I needed a passport sized photo to submit with my request. I hadn’t brought any with me, so on my way home I stopped at ‘K. General’s Photo.’ There was a wooden sandwichboard sign in the bicycle lane advertising Instant Passport Photos, so I parked my bike, crossed the wooden plank over the rain gutter, and stepped into the small wooden shed. If you could only have seen the ruckus I caused! Before a minute had passed the door was filled with children (six!) smiling, and waving to me. The proprietor of the store was in a fluster because he’d never photographed a ‘salaminga’ before, so wasn’t sure where to place me for proper light focus. He eventually had me go outside, and he pinned the background up on the door of the shed to get proper light. While he printed the photos and cut them for me, I was able to visit with the children. One of the older girls, who told me her name was Miriam, translated for the younger girls. One girl, who was just rocking out in her underwear touched my hand and said something in Dagbani. Miriam translated for me: “She said that she likes you.” I asked Miriam to tell the little girl that I liked her too. I left the store shortly after with the goofiest smile on my face.

I could go on and on (even more than this) with stories about the little kindnesses and the sweetness I’ve encountered during my time here. It began the moment I stepped off the plane with the common phrase of “You are very welcome!” from the immigration officer who stamped my passport, and has continued to this very moment as I write this message to all of you. Tamale has definitely captured a special place in my heart.

I hope this message finds you all as happy and healthy as I am.

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