Day 5: Toto, we're not in Europe anymore...

Truck delivering JET Dishwasher Powder. The slogan reads "etwa bibiaa neat"
which translates (loosely) to "It washes brilliantly".

FAN ICE- better than Ben&Jerry's, no lie.
(One costs just 50 Pesawas = about 20 British pence!)

As a rule, I try to drink as many litres of Ice Tea as physically possible when I’m on holiday somewhere hot. So I was pretty disappointed to learn that Lipton Ice Tea isn’t as readily available as I had hoped. 

So today’s entry is all about brands.

Unfamiliar brands- Nido, Ideal, even one called PEAK...

The stall in this picture is just a few doors down from our house- perfect when we’re in need of a mid-afternoon snack.

You won’t find Nestle Carnation Milk here; instead, why not try Ideal Milk? Need some Cadbury cocoa powder for a cake? Brown Gold cocoa powder is the perfect substitute. Or perhaps you just want an ice cream? Forget the 99p flake, it’s all about Fan Ice (no ice-cream vans here, just men with carts and cooler boxes).

Ads painted on to the sides of two kiosks.
Airtel, a mobile phone network.
Star, a popular beer.

Advertising is also pretty different here too. No need to waste wall space, it's the perfect canvas to advertise the nation’s favourite products.

Spot the clown!
Ashfoam, the Ghanaian version of Tempur Mattress.

You know, blogging is thirsty work.

One bottle of Volvic please!

Oh sorry.

I mean Voltic…

Day 4: Monday's Child...

Today, I went to Korle Bu Hospital to sort out the final bits for my placement starting next week (work shadowing in Obstetrics & Gynaecology and Cardiology—excited!). Consequently, I don’t really have anything exciting to report today. But I promise that you’ll love tomorrow’s post!

So until then, here’s a little lesson in...

-- Day Names --

Monday's child is fair of face, 

Tuesday's child is full of grace, 

Wednesday's child is full of woe, 

Thursday's child has far to go, 

Friday's child is loving and giving, 

Saturday's child works hard for a living, 

But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

Most people know the version of the nursery rhyme above, but in Ghana, children are often called by their Day Name- a name that depends on the day of the week on which a child is born.

	GIRLS	BOYS
MONDAY	Adjoa (pronounced AH-joa)	Kojo (koh-JO)
TUESDAY	Abena (ah-beh-nah)	Kwabena (Kwah-beh-nah)
WEDNESDAY	Akua (ay-KWI-ah)	Kweku (Kway-ku)
THURSDAY	Yaa (Yaa)	Yaw (Yow)
FRIDAY	Afia (AY-fia)	Kofi (koh-fi)
SATURDAY	Ama (ah-ma)	Kwame (Kwar-mi)
SUNDAY	Akosua (ah-KOH-sia)	Kwesi (Kway-si)

A child’s day name doesn’t necessarily replace their given name- it’s usually just used in the home. There are also several alternative day names depending on the part of Ghana you're from- these are just the most common ones. There are even names given to children depending on whether they are the first son, or the oldest daughter, or the second sister. But that’s for another day. 

Day 3: Seventeen, 18, Nineteen

Today, one of my cousins came home from university for her reading week and since she arrived this morning it’s been non-stop laughter. So it makes perfect sense to introduce you to two very special ladies…

 My mum is one of five children; the second child and the oldest girl. The middle child, her second brother, is the father of two of my cousins- Molly and Rashmi.

Molly

Molly, the first daughter, is 19 and in London would be considered “in my year”. Unlike me, Molly went straight to uni and is currently reading Computer Science BSc at KNUST (Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology). Like me, however, she’s a fan of the Twilight Saga and attached to her laptop like a baby to it’s blanket.

Rashmi is 17 and in her penultimate year at Sacred Heart Senior High School learning about catering. She’s in love with her pet dog, Humble, who likes to growl and bear his teeth at me whenever I walk past.

Rashmi

I have never felt separated from my cousins though we are thousands of miles apart (although Molly is a classic tomboy- in this sense, we are polar opposites). Coming to Ghana this year hasn’t felt like an eleven year catch up (the last time I was here I was 7 years old) nor does it feel like we have to adjust a phrase or a sentence in order to share a joke or understand a story. Banter flows seamlessly between English and Gha, the taunting and teasing is endless and there’s no need to find middle ground when there’s so much common ground (mostly boys, clothes, makeup, guys, American sitcoms, shoes, men…)

18, 19, 17

Oh come on, we’re 17, 18 and 19 years old-

What did you expect?

Day 2: The Road to Kokrobite

Today, I caught up with the adventurous Oskar Butcher (friend from Dulwich College, London). After an hour long journey with my new taxi driver friend, Appiah, we arrived at the meeting point.

“Just give me a call when you get to the petrol station in Kokrobite” Oskar had told me, “everyone knows it so you’ll be able to find it for sure”. And he was right, everyone we asked as we approached Kokrobite (pronounced kok-roh-bee-tay) pointed us in the direction of the petrol station but it was far from what we were expecting. There was no sign. No entry path. No labelled tanks of fuel. Instead, two pumps, a few barrels and the owner.

Oskar has already been in Ghana for 4 weeks, and is leaving at the end of this week. After chatting for five minutes, I began to understand how much he loves Kokrobite and its vibrant people- and it’s pretty clear that all the people love him too! As we walked along the road to the school he's been volunteering in, every other person called to him “Alright, Oskar”, “Hey Oskar!”, “Oskar, my friend!”.

The school building is very small, and Oskar took me in to observe a lesson. There were about 50 children in the class we went into (average sized class!) and only one teacher and classroom assistant (in this case, Oskar). The kids were full of life, incredibly polite and eager to say hello. After observing a lesson in the correct use of prepositions in a sentence, we left for a walk by the sea.

Kokrobite felt like a world away from Dansoman- slightly more rural, with stalls instead of shops and bumpy roads lined with potholes. It was, nonetheless, well worth the visit. It was refreshing to see Oskar get on so easily with all the locals and fully embrace their way of life: “Coach invited me back to his place for dinner and I had fufu and soup”.

However, the highlight of my day was not walking barefoot along the sea, or meeting all the children from the local school or even drinking Alvaro in the shade (a drink reminiscent of pineapple KA). It was the slimy man who approached me, whilst Oskar was busy seeing a man about a drum, and whispered slowly in my ear “would you like to come and cook for me, my dear?”

Erm maybe next time. 

Or not.

Day 1: From -1 to THIRTY ONE degrees

Snow cleared at Terminal 5

This first post would have been delayed a few days if Mother Nature had got her way. At Heathrow, mum and I (yes, Mum is here with me too...) were faced with departure boards that read - CANCELLED, CANCELLED, CANCELLED, CANCELLED, Delayed Check-In, CANCELLED, CANCELLED, CANCELLED. Thankfully, ours was one of the flights that took off from Terminal 5 despite all the "disruption" caused by ALL OF 2 INCHES of snow that fell in London.

Admittedly, the first 12 hours have been tough. The heat is exhausting. Getting off the plane at Kotoka airport was the first shock as I was slapped in the face by 28 degree heat (at 9pm GMT/Local Time-- there is no time difference!) Humidity makes the air incredibly dense. We've already experienced two powercuts (known as "lights out") each lasting about an hour but we're very lucky to have a back-up generator in our house. 

Everyone is really friendly but I stick out like a sore thumb- I asked a friend, Cynthia, why it's so clear that I'm a "Bloh-fon-yoh" (basically, a Brit) and she said "well, it's obvious, no? Your skin is so much lighter, your hair looks different (woo, the remi pays off once again!) and when you speak..." --say no more.

Not that sticking out is completely bad. It does seem at first to be quite a handicap (if some people realise that you don't understand what they're saying, they're more likely to be a little sneaky when it comes to buying goods in the market) but thankfully MAMA DIDN'T RAISE NO FOOL and I understand every word of Gha and quite a lot of Fante (two commonly spoken dialects in the capital). 

But it's not all been exhausting heat and sneaky vendors. For breakfast, my favourite aunt made me "Yaw Flor keh Kelewele" --hehee it's black-eyed beans stew and fried plantain. A little heavy for breakfast but, when in Ghana, do as the Ghanaians do. 

Family home in Dansoman, Accra

Ok, that's not how the Ghanaians do. I'm just being a little indulgent.