Living in Ghana - Somehow

3/8/2009
Dear Class,

“Somehow” is a word often hear coming out of the mouths of Peace Corps volunteers in Ghana, as well as Ghanaians (when they’re speaking English, of course). “We will do it—somehow,” “Somehow, we will do,” “We did it—somehow.” That and phrases like “If tomorrow,” “If I finish,” an “If I get a car.” People very rarely promise anything beyond the present moment. Perhaps that sounds irresponsible, lazy, or defeatist. But in Ghana, or at least in Ofosu, it’s just practical. If you didn’t concede to these qualifiers, you’d lose your mind. This letter provides a case in point.
I intended to travel to one of the nearby market towns—the district capital today to write this letter and send it off to you. It’s Sunday, so there aren’t many cars on the road. Many Christians take the day off, and with that lack of demand the cards don’t fill. If they don’t fill, they don’t move. So, getting a ride to town on Sunday can be tough, but usually one or two cars pass throughout the day.
I got up early, packed my things, went to church, greeted a few friends, and was out by the road around 11:30 am. It was a bit early. Most cars don’t start moving until after church—sometime mid-afternoon. But, I didn’t have much else to do, so I thought I would just hang out. There are always people around to occupy your time.
So, I sat down and talked with some people. Around 12:30, I laid own to take a nap. Around 1:30, a friend came to sit with me. She roasted some ground nuts, and we bought some bananas to go with them. Six bananas and plenty of ground nuts later, we looked through a TIME and Cosmo magazine sent from home. I tried to explain to her all of the scantily-clad women she was completely appalled by. I told her not everyone in the U.S. dressed like the stars or the models advertising lingerie, boy lotions, perfumes, etc.
Around 3:30, she headed home. Around 3:35 a five-passenger car passes with nine people in it an all of their bags. It’s a no-go. By 4:30, I’m losing hope and tell myself just to hold out until five. By this time, everyone who greeted me on their way to farm this morning is now greeting me on their way back home. 5:00 comes and goes—I head to the tree under which I receive cell phone reception to message a person I was to meet in town that I wouldn’t be making it tonight. I hit one button and the cell phone battery died. I was going to charge it when I got to town where there’s electricity. I had tried to charge it yesterday with my solar charger, but it rained. I was frustrated. The last time I was in town, trying to e-mail you a letter the power went out while I was typing, and I lost the whole document. When I re-type it the internet connection went down, then the power went out again for four days. But, I realize I ha no reason to be frustrated. I’m not the only one living here. All of this is something everyone here is used too, and without me even sending that message, the person I was supposed to meet in town will assume I didn’t get a car and network reception is poor in my village. An, everyone I had “ify” plans with on Tuesday will understand why I had to spend the extra night in town, because I didn’t get a car on Sunday. We’re all living, working, hanging out in Ghana—somehow. We concede to that which we cannot control and eat bananas, ground nuts, keep each other company, have fun, and go on with our lives while doing it.
So, if tomorrow, and if I get a car, and if the power is on, and if the internet is working, I will type this letter and send it to you—somehow.

Sincerely,
Ama Cynthia