Get The Cool Shoe Shine

Yesterday at work, I was eagerly waiting for it to be lunch time so that I could take a break from powerpointing to go indulge in some delicious fried yams and the best shito sauce in town with an included bonus of green onions. So about three steps down the street, my nice tan and black flip flops broke! So I stood for awhile with my broken shoe, trying to figure out what I was going to do and how I was going to get home with one shoe, as people passed and offered their dismay at the situation, as all Ghanaians do at any instance of an unfortunate event. “Sorry, Sorry. Are you fine?” I hobbled down the rest of the road until I got to my yam woman and I showed her my broken shoe. “Oh Sorry, Sorry.” She said I needed to wait for a drummer shoe shine boy, you know, the one that hits the box at his side while he walks down the road. I thought, well I’ll be darned, so THAT’S what that guy does. 50 pesewas of fried yam pulled out of a silver bowl filled with boiling oil suspended over a small fire on the ground later, and lo and behold! The sound of the steady beat of a stick against a box was off in the distance. We called him over and he sat right down on a rock, took my shoe, opened his box and began threading the thong right back inside of the sandal. Even better than before, my newly mended sandal cost me 20 pesewas, though I only had 10 in my hand. My yam woman wanted to pay for it, she said “This is Ghana. Relax.” She paid for it and refused to take my 10 pesewas. Just like that. My shoe is fixed, no big deal, and just in time for an unexpectedly busy day.

There are so many new things here that it’s hard to decipher all of them. Everyday I see something new hidden somewhere down my own street. Just today, I discovered the lady selling red red right across the road. There are so many things crammed in so little space.

My internship is going well. I have officially begun teaching the classes that I have been dreading and struggling with. It’s a lot better than I thought it was going to be. The students are warm and welcoming and the fact that they are at SISS to begin with proves that they are willing and eager to learn. Sister Krysta is what they call me. The African mediator is what really really helps the whole situation. After I give my little schpeel about whatever it is, yesterday being personal hygiene, Naa jumps in and almost translates it for them, into an African framework. Which I am so so so very grateful about. I was so afraid of teaching something that was relevant to me to my life in the United States, but not so much to life in Africa. I came here to learn about life in Africa, not to impose my own norms on them. Which is why I was so bent out of shape about the whole project. So good old Naa went through it and I learned a wealth of information about African hygiene techniques, like the chewing sticks (an alternative to our toothbrushes) and lime wash.
It’s hard to be doing what I really want to be doing here. I can’t decide how cold of a person that makes me. There’s a certain degree of detachment you need to have to be an anthropologist. And I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or how selfish it really is. I knew all along that I wanted to be here and for selfish reasons, really, for my own curiosity. People have posed arguments of relative selfishness, which I think make the most sense to me. Rumble, Jumble, Mummmbleeee.

It’s good to know that I’m not the only person who has days that simply walking down the street is exhausting. Sometimes I wish I could transform into a chicken and walk down the street that way. through the gutters.