On suckage, part II
[Note; I actually had a really great weekend between my last entry and this one. Fear not for my tenuous emotional state, loved ones! I’ll return to carebear-and-rainbow mode shortly.]
I often get asked, by strangers and acquaintances alike, for things. It comes with the territory of being white and foreign; from the “rich Obruni” stereotype. The history of missionaries in this country does not help koraaa (”at alllll”). Being asked “what mission are you from?” and “what will you give us?” in the same breath is not altogether uncommon.
Two days ago at market a random woman told me to bring her a drink. I say “told” instead of asked, because the phrasing translated to “you [will] bring me a Pure Water”, and as a Twi statement there was no danger of having heard misspoken English “would you bring me a Pure Water?” “Pure Water” refers to the 500ml plastic sachets that cost .05ghc, or “5 t’ousand” - about $0.05, so hardly an imposition. It was the principle of the matter that offended my precious senses (that, and the fact that I was tired and hot, and would’ve like a Pure Water myself, had I the spare change left in my pocket).
It’s a terrible reality on many levels: my emotions alternate between frustration and helplessness. There are times when I wish I could give whatever is being asked, but there are many many more times when I’m simply astounded by the shameless audacity of the begging. There’s an ingrained sense of entitlement that seems a part of learned culture, from early childhood on, and which serves to hold back so. much. development and progress. This is not only me venting my culturally-biased, inherently negative worldview - it’s a statement I hear made often by Ghanaian friends (my housemate being foremost among them).
Aside from being frustrating, this phenomenon is also detrimental to my ability to do my job here. Many, if not most, of my faculty coworkers have yet to take me seriously as a teacher. A lot of it is based on stereotypical descriptors (foreign/white/single/female, amusing oddity), but there is also the misconception regarding why I’m here: I’m seen not so much as a teacher (to say nothing of “3 goal-oriented PCV”), but as potential windfall facilitator. I’ve been on staff at this school since August, and already the novelty of my appearance is fading: I’ve been faced with confusion, even subversive hostility, based in large part on the “why haven’t you bought us new computers yet?!” question.
Last week, during the same afternoon that led to my previous blog entry, I had an interesting encounter with a teaching colleague. We were discussing the computer situation, and I was relating my excitement at finding so many “extra” computers. The resulting exchange upset me so much I copied it down a few minutes later (”Ghana English” and all), ostensibly ‘taking notes’ during the staff meeting.
Him: But why don’t you just buy new computers?
Me: (trying to joke it off) Oh, I’m too poor! I’m a Volunteer, remember?
Him: Ei! No no no, you are rich.
Me: Oh, why? You know I make half your money!
Him: Ok, so just call your American friends and tell them we need new computers, they’ll send them.
Me:No, I can’t do that, I am just a teacher. Peace Corps doesn’t want us to work like that.
Him: (Conspiratorially) Oh, don’t mind them. Just have your mother pick two or three computers when she comes to visit.
This conversation affected me on so many levels: my visceral reaction was a lump in my throat and clenched fists (which happens a lot at staff meetings…) — if it was so gorram easy for my mom to buy “two or three computers” then she would be able to visit sooner than later (hi mom, don’t feel guilty, I’m just making a point :) ). Close on that thought’s heels was “you have no. bloody. idea., do you?” [cue self-pitying internal monologue] you’ve never even left the country, much less the continent, and the idea of uprooting yourself from everything you’ve ever known and loved for an extended period of time, willingly transplanting into an incredibly unwelcoming and alien environment, in which you’re seen by colleagues not as an equal but as some conglomerate of gift-bearing amusement/unintelligent-lesser-being — that’s completely outside your realm of comprehension, isn’t it? [/end moment]
Closing out my mental reaction to the passing conversation was resounding emotional deflation: I’d just spent 20 minutes in conversation with this particular colleague, and was beginning to feel warm-fuzzies with the idea oh wow, maybe I’ve FINALLY been able to make a connection here!. Bubble, meet pin.

