Sucking on Plastic

Perhaps I should have spent more time talking about everyday life when I first gone here and everything was novel. Better late than never, right?

The Market
It’s interesting going back to places that we visited in our first few days in Ghana. I was totally overwhelmed by the amount of people, smells, harassment, and noises that manifest in the market. Just when I thought we had made it through and could call it a day, we would turn the corner into the next section. Now it is fun to wander around and explore the area, it seems to span all of downtown. Let me try to draw a picture for you. Start with a mall, Pacific Mall for anyone from the GTA. Make the stores four feet wide and eight feet deep. Keep the same amount of staff and add all their children. Every inch of space is used to display the wears; minimalism definitely hasn’t caught on. Shrink the corridors to five feet, take off the roof, and put a shallow gutter down the middle. Replace those pesky security vehicles and electric wheelchairs with guys carrying 50 pound bags of clothing on their heads. Now imagine everyone is working on commission like at Future Shop. The particularly eager ones walk around shoving their wares in your face, whether the item would fit or not. (It stretches seems to be a favourite excuse.) Some stalls are more permanent than others. This weekend I found a very nice shop with glass cabinets full of Western beauty products (too bad Santa already helped me restock). I also discovered an amazing selection of Miss Sixty clothes in a stall constructed with six two-by-fours and three wavy pieces of tin. It definitely helps to bring someone who knows the ins and outs. In one of the Harry Potter movies (maybe the first one) they find a witchcraft shopping lair through a secret doorway. Switch London to Accra and witchery to beauty products and I swear the same thing happened to me. We were navigating the sidewalk of some quite broad roads around a big square when my guide ducted into what I thought was a shop. Once my eyes adjusted to the light I realized there was nail polish as far as the eye could see. Continuing on we found more than ten Shoppers Drug Marts full of products. The shopping style is also quite different. You ask anyone where they go shopping for pretty much anything and they say, “The market”. People have a purpose fulfill and timeframe between washing (laundry), sweeping, cooking, and pounding fufu or banku. When I stop for a moment in front of someone’s shop they ask, “What do you want?”

The recent efforts to “Green Ghana” have decreased the congestion slightly. The government is attempting to tear down informal (aka illegal) structures and prevent hawking in the central business district. I have since discovered sidewalks I didn’t know existed and the roads seem wider. I wonder how long they can keep the people away when petty trading is the only way they have to survive. I thought shipping away homeless people was bad.



The Plastic
I suck on plastic everyday, as do most Ghanaians. Pretty much everything that is somewhat liquid is sold in a clear plastic bag (water, porridge, ice cream). Anything else you buy goes into a black plastic bag (called rubbers … I was a little confused at first). Probably 95% of these bags end up in the gutter and catch in the dead grass on the side of the road. Garbage cans are few and far between, the ones you do find are often poorly located. Every house I’ve been in uses a plastic bag to seal the lid when cooking rice. Mmmmm cooked plastic. Even the popular dishes and containers are plastic, although thicker. It makes me particularly sad then there is no recycling and the favourite form of garbage disposal is fire. Sometimes I wish I were working for a NGO that focuses on environmental protection and education.

The Roads
I believe I’ve already shared some experiences on roads outside of Accra. In the city most roads are constantly choked with vehicles and when they aren’t, drivers take advantage. (Running red lights is a privilege of the night.) The paved roads are pocketed because, I’m told, the government takes half the money for their pocket and half for the construction. Rough dirt roads like the one on my walk to work are common. Sidewalks, however, are not. The existing ones are often just covered gutters (better than an open one and no sidewalk, I guess). Most volunteers are more scared of the main thoroughfares than the street food.

The Clothes
Oh the colours and the patterns! I am a little worried about buy clothing for myself now. I fear than my sense of what I would wear at home is waning. It is common for women to wear a top, long skirt, headscarf, and extra piece over one shoulder or around their waist all in the same bright, lively pattern. And they look amazing. Good thing this white skin of mine has so many other advantages or I’d be bitter. The men essentially wrap a big piece of fabric under their right arm and over their left which is used to hold everything in place. Any event (wedding, church, luncheon) warrants the full formal wear. For lesser occasions (like African wear day – Friday) men wear dress pants and tunic-like shirts made from the same material as the women’s dress. Major institutions have their own fabric printed and made into matching uniforms for low level staff. Strangely enough most workplaces require full-out corporate wear. I think I get away with a lot of being a foreigner.
When people just let loose they really seem to enjoy throwback t-shirts, even if they don’t realize how hip they are. You could easily play spot-the-state/province (you know, that car game) but on t-shirts instead of license plates. I see this one guy in my neighbourhood who loves his logarithmic equation shirt. He reminds me of my OAC finite teacher, minus the pale skin and red hair.