Posted tagged ‘Hausa’

“If you give bad food to your stomach, it drums for you to dance.”

July 26, 2025

I am running out of adjectives to describe the beauty of these summer days. This morning is pulchritudinous ( straight from Roget). A few clouds share a cornflower colored sky. It is cool at 74°. I can feel a strong breeze on my back from the north facing window. It is morning nap time for the dogs, not to be confused with early afternoon, late afternoon, early evening or later evening naps. Henry is always to my left and Nala to my right. We are creatures of habit, the dogs and I.

The rest of today’s blog is a bit different. I have the very first aerogram I sent home from Ghana. I thought I’d share some of it. It is dated June 30, 1969, my first full day in Ghana. We had arrived in Accra at 11 the morning before. We went through all of the official airport stops then drank a welcoming toast given by Ghanaian officials. We rode the busses to Winneba down coast where we would be staying for two weeks. I slept much of that ride.

In Winneba they gave us 30 cedis, our spending money for those two weeks, and then gave us a welcoming lunch: deviled eggs, a bottle of Star beer, a tomato-onion mix and some meat on a stick. We were entertained by villagers playing drums and dancing highlife, a truly Ghanaian dance. We walked to the beach where the waves were tremendous. We were warned about dangerous undertows. Later in the week, one of our language instructors drowned. What was a surprise as I was reading this letter was how much I described the food. It must have made a big impression. Dinner that first night was cocoa, some kind of a stew with thick broth, beans and fish. I wrote it was pretty good which makes me laugh, so descriptive. That first day after breakfast, eggs and toast and juice, we walked through town and met the chief of Winneba.

Next I wrote about how friendly the Ghanaians were. They knew we were part of Peace Corps. In town we were met with handshakes and hellos and many stopped to talk. I’m sure you are eager to know about lunch. Here are my exact words: for lunch we had plantain and a second dish I described as looking like matted seaweed and barf. It was made from leaves, palm oil, fish and a few other ingredients I didn’t name. I said if I closed my eyes it didn’t taste as bad as it looked.

In one paragraph I described how beautiful Ghana is with all its greenery and a beach lined with palm trees. I wrote about how I heard drums from one of the houses and how amazing the sound was. Somehow, though, I missed describing dinner.

The rest of the aerogram describes that first week, the meetings, the language training, the shots, and an hour by hour schedule of my day. I’ll save that for another day, but I do want to leave you with this: “Now I look around and find it really difficult to believe I am actually in Ghana, in Africa. Everything is so different but becoming so usual. I can’t wait for more.”

She wata rana (goodbye in Hausa, the language I learned)!

“When Peace Corps was first proposed, some in Congress assumed that only men would be volunteers.”

June 24, 2023

We had a bit of rain last night and this morning. It left the air a bit humid. It is also quite warm, 70°. I have no plans to leave the house. I have a to do list, but the paper has yellowed.

I took off Nala’s cone. She was just so sad. I could see it in her eyes. Her head hung down, and she had trouble getting comfortable. Around the stitches looks great. She doesn’t bother them. She slept right beside me last night. All is well in Nala’s world.

My muse seems to be on vacation, perhaps beaten by the rain. I guess this will have to be a Ghana day, my favorite fallback.

My Peace Corps training was completely in Ghana. We started at a town called Winneba. I remember the first morning waking up and remembering I was in Africa. My dorm room was on the second floor. Outside my door I could see the tops of compounds and palm trees, my very first palm trees ever. Breakfast was coffee and rolls, a familiar breakfast. Lunch and dinner were Ghanaian foods, and I wasn’t a fan. Those first three weeks we had hours of language every day. Mine was Hausa. We got shots. We had a medical briefing. We greeted the chief as is the custom. Back then, Ashanti chiefs never spoke directly to people but spoke through linguists who carried staffs, indicators of their positions. The beginnings of my own adventures were when I went to town by myself a few times.

The next three weeks we lived with Ghanaian families who spoke the same languages we were learning. I lived in Bawku. I taught middle school for a week and still had language lessons but only after lunch which we ate together. My favorite time in Bawku was when I visited the compounds where the wives and small children lived. My father had four wives. I walked behind compounds on dirt pathways where I’d pass an outside class of boys sitting on the ground and learning the Koran. Their voices intoned. In the compound I sat and sometimes held babies. The toddlers were afraid of me. I remember a vulture walking around the main part of the compound. The wives made my meals there and sent them to the house. One vivid memory of Bawku is of us sitting around the radio listening to Voice of American and the moon landing.

For the next week we each went to our schools. I met the principal, set up a checking account, sort of moved into my house and roamed the market. I made note of what I needed in my house. I also left luggage and some clothes there so I’d have less to carry.

I’m going to stop there in Bolga to keep you on the edges of your seats. That leaves me with some weeks of training to write about when my muse takes another hike.

“Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.”

August 6, 2017

Today is an absolute delight. The humidity is gone, the sun is squint your eyes bright and there is a cool breeze. I even had to shut the window behind me as I found the breeze cold on my back. I opened the other window in here and both doors to let all that wonderful fresh air into the house. It is a deck day, a wonderful deck day.

Tonight is movie night. I think I’ll have a sweatshirt at the ready as it will be in the low 60’s. Even though it is early August, the weather hints at fall.

My neighbor barbecues chicken wings every Sunday. He doesn’t use any sauce. He never has any sides. His wife sits on the deck and keeps him company. If he sees me, he shouts for me to join him and his wife. I did one Sunday, the Sunday he barbecued Brazilian kielbasa especially for me. His wife made caipirinhas, a Brazilian drink I love. They call me Miss Kath.

I was taught Hausa during my Peace Corps training. It is a language indigenous to Niger but is also a Sub-Saharan trade language. There are even Hausa traders. I used to shop at their stalls on High Street. When I used Hausa, I got better deals. The man who oversaw the Peace Corps hostel spoke Hausa. He loved that I spoke his language. On the first floor of the hostel there were two sleeping rooms for women: one had a bathroom while the other was much smaller and didn’t. I was there once when very few volunteers were. He gave me a key to the big room and put everyone else in the small room. He hated what he called Yama Yama women who left powder all over the bathroom floor. Yama Yama women are street walkers so that was quite an insult. The other day Grace Awae, the former student I have spent so much time with, send hello from Facebook. I wrote back in Hausa: Ina kwana? Yaya kake? Good morning and how are you. She wrote Ina lafiya, I am fine.

I have a few deck clean-ups before tonight, mostly bird poop. I also have to clean the table. I’m making muhammara, a dish I learned to make in Marrakech. The original dish I had planned, shredded chicken phyllo rolls, has to be postponed as I don’t have the right ingredients. I thought I did. I have cheese and crackers and meatballs from last week which are now defrosting. We’ll have plenty.

If I were ten again, I’d be at the beach with my family. I’d be eating grainy sandwiches, probably bologna, and eating watermelon and some Oreos. I’d walk the beach to find shells and I’d swim in the warm tidal pools. I loved the summer Sundays of my childhood.