Posted tagged ‘plantain’

“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)!

“Birds are the eyes of heaven, and flies are the spies of hell.”

September 18, 2017

About a month ago my friend’s house was infiltrated by flies, large, noisy flies. She sat armed and ready to smack any fly within her range of vision. I helped by doing reconnaissance. Neither of us could figure out where the flies had come from. Well, the flies have moved here so I am now suffering through the first plague of South Dennis. The flies, big, ugly flies with green bodies are all over the house, at least down stairs here where I can see them. I am also armed with a rolled up newspaper. Last night I counted ten of them roosting, sort of roosting, on my ceiling. Any that alighted on the window or any other surface was unceremoniously dispatched. By the time I went to bed there were only three on the ceiling, but then came this morning. I have slain at least five of them and shooed three or four more out the front door, but more are by the closed windows in the living room hoping to escape. I don’t see any here in the den. Perhaps the bodies of their comrades are warning them to stay away (I know they aren’t sentient, but I can still hold on to a false hope).

I abided flies in Ghana. They were a part of living there. Few were in my house, but the market was filled with flies. I had to ignore them or I would never have bought meat. Ponder that for a while.

My laundry is being brought down here where it will sit leaning against the cellar door until I get tired of looking at it. From past experiences, that could be a while. When I worked, I had to do all my errands and chores on the weekends when I had the most time. Everything always got done. Now I figure I have eons of time so I procrastinate.

Yesterday I went to my neighbors’ son’s tenth birthday party. It was great fun, and I got to sit and chat with my other neighbors whom I usually just see driving by my house when we just wave at each other. The food at the party was spectacular: tasty chicken wings, sausages, steak, white rice, plantains and Brazilian chicken salad. The last two dishes came from The Brazilian Grill in Hyannis. My neighbor always gets plantain knowing how much I like it. We all sang Happy Birthday to Branden. First we all sang in English then the Brazilian guests sang in Portuguese. What I like is everyone always claps during the singing of each song. We all got to drink Caipirinhas, Brazil’s national cocktail. It is made with cachaça (there) and vodka (here), sugar and lime. The limes are muddled with brown sugar then ice and vodka are added. I had a few. We all did.

I have nothing on my dance card for today except maybe finish the book I’m reading so I can go to the library tomorrow and get more. I did fill the bird feeders this morning so I do have a sense of accomplishment. I’ll take that as enough for today.

“And falling’s just another way to fly.”

October 18, 2016

The morning is cloudy and damp. I could smell the ocean when I went to get the papers so I lingered outside a while. It was quiet. I knew my neighbors were awake as their shades were up, and their paper was gone. I don’t see them much. Thinking about it, I don’t see many of my neighbors. When I do, we always wave.

My groceries arrived right on time yesterday. My fridge is now filled. I bought some plantain hoping to make kelewele. I’m also going to try my hand at jollof rice. It’s fun making something new, especially dishes filled with memories.

I left my windows open last night. I had thought them closed for the season, but yesterday was warm. Today will be even warmer. I got to hear the birds sing when I woke up. They were far less intrusive than that Ghanaian rooster. It doesn’t really matter where I am. I love mornings the best. My dad used to switch to storm windows around this time of year. It took him the whole day. He had to get each window on hooks, and it wasn’t easy because he also had to lean on the ladder for balance. We all watched.

It is from my dad I inherited the gene associated with all my falls. His falls were sometimes spectacular. They were also sometimes funny like the sawing himself out of the tree fall I have mentioned before. He didn’t fall far. He did break his hip on a fall from a high ladder when he was painting his house. He always limped after that. I have been luckier with only a broken bone in my shoulder, and no after effects because of physical therapy. I just accept falls as a fact of life.

Another Day in Kantia

September 2, 2012

Last night I was awokened by a tremendous wind which sounded like a hurricane. I got up and went to the window. Trees were bent to the ground andgrasses were waving. Then came lightning and thunder. That went on for a while and finally rain came. It was amazing, exactly what you imagination tells you a tropical storm should   look and sound like. The rain continued into this morning which was cool and breezy. It finally stopped around noon, and the sun is back which means so is the sweating (oops perspiring).

Bea, one of my students, made kelewele for me, a plaintain dish, and my favorite Ghanaian food. I had it for dinner the other night. There I was sitting on the porch hearing roosters and the voices of the children speaking FraFra and eating kelewele with my hand. It is another world.

Today we drove by churches, and I could hear the singing. I saw women walking along the side of the road dressed in Sunday clothes, traditional long dresses made of Ghanaian cloth, colorful and beautiful. Men wore shirts of Ghanaian cloth or suits and ties. Small girls and small boys were miniature versions of their parents. I got a chuckle at the idea that even in Ghana kids are forced into Sunday clothes for mass.

We went to Navrongo yesterday. The road to there is one of my favorite. Along parts of it are huge trees overhanging and shadowing the road. Small girls sit by the side and sell oranges or tomatoes or Guinea fowl eggs. As you pass a village, chickens, goats and baby Guinea fowl run across the road in front of you. Cows with ropes around their necks wander. They had broken their tethers. The corn and millet are high, close to harvesting. The rain will last this month more and maybe small time into October. Here there is only one growing season while the south has two.

I am happy and doing well. My students are forcing me to eat more than fruits and salads by cooking for me so I am being well taken care of here. No worries!