Cape Coast Festival! bunch of cool people REALLY close to one of the most important chiefs! woohoo!!!
Before I came to
At my first meal that Saturday night, I was given rice and asked if I wanted chicken or fish. I decided on fish, but realized a bit too late that my plate contained an actual fish, skin and bones and all. I just stabbed my fork in the fish and attempted to eat it. I failed. This was neither my first jolt to reality at being in
Jollof rice - this yummy rice that has been cooked in tomato/spicy stew, so it has both of these qualities and sometimes extracts still in it - is so far my favorite staple in my diet. The first time I ate it, I was on the bus outside of ISH, and as I opened my Styrofoam container, I realized that I had no idea what I was about to eat. Although the first few spicy bites surprised me, I really enjoyed it. I really didn’t know that I would be able to eat as much of it as I wanted!
During orientation, as we ate more and more Tasty Treats, mangos or other fruit, plantains, chicken, egg sandwiches and other foods without understanding how to otherwise fend for ourselves, our conversation often turned to food. We commented on how much we would pay for a cup of coffee or cheese or a burrito or a salad, our favorite international restaurants, and how much we missed it all. We talked about these things CONSTANTLY.
As orientation ended, there was a mad rush to find new foods and new places to eat them. I remember being at the corner shop at the bush canteen (where i now eat at least 3 mornings/week), reading the foods painted on the front, and being unable pronounce those foods, let alone know from what they were made or how they would taste. I was afraid to try to order fufu and other foods. this was not because I didn’t want to try them, but because I did not know how to order or eat it. This caused a slight problem. After avoiding trying fufu with the whole large group, I snuck in for the leftovers that my colleagues did not enjoy. That first meal reminded me of the paper I had read before. I wondered what I was eating but was incredibly happy that I was going out of my comfort zone to try something new. Fufu is of a dough- consistency (someone want to wikipedia it for me for better description?) and you eat it with your hands, dip it in the stew, and swallow without chewing. (perfect for me, right? not exactly, while its good, i prefer other things)
My first success at the bush canteen was successful only because of the kindness of the lady who sold me a mango. I was with the other Anita, who was and still is much more able to confront people with her best Twi, and interact with them in a positive way as they explain the language properly. I, on the other hand, only knew that I should not walk and eat at the same time, so when we were finished buying our food, we looked for a place to sit. We were not sure if we could eat at the benches where I now know to order fufu, so we looked for somewhere else to sit, but were unsuccessful. We sat on some steps with our food until the mango lady asked us, with a look of disbelief, what we were doing! She ushered us over to her own bench behind her small stand and told us to eat while she stood. As I pledged to do better next time and try to sit somewhere else, I was incredibly grateful for her hospitality and also pledged to remember her name and continue buying her fruit.
A more startling first came when I ordered banku for the first time. I put on my best adventurous mindset, but was almost rejected! After having to be told how and where to sit at the Central Cafeteria, I learned the menu for the day. When I heard banku, I jumped at the opportunity to try it, but the waiter was not so keen on the idea. He first asked if I wanted rice and chicken, but when I repeated that I wanted banku, he protested further, and asked if I had taken it before. I responded with a firm no, but added with a smile that I would very much like to try it. However, he still protested, asking, “But what if you don’t like it?” I was REALLY frustrated by this response and wanted to scream at him. or cry. I really love to eat and I was determined to have a good day, enjoying food that I had never tried before. I was tired of not knowing what to eat and feeling awkward every time I ordered. Did he not want me to learn something? Did the waiter really want me to stick to chicken and rice? I eventually did get my banku (the best I have had here) and the waiter taught me how to eat it with my hands and wash them before and after eating. banku is similar to fufu but made with different crushed grains.... again, wikipedia it bc i'm really bad)
The payoff of every one of my awkward experiences with food is that I will not ever make the same mistake twice. I will remember that wakye is pronounced “wa-che,” that I do not have to yell when ordering food from Akuafo, and to always have exact change for the food in JQB (or better yet, never order ANY food from there bc they're really mean!). I will never forget how much fanmilk costs (and how wonderful yougurt that has been frozen tastes or vanilla ice cream with fresh pineapple), that I should stand while waiting for my food to come at
The other payoff of trying new foods in
Although I have had different foods in the different regions of
In Cape Coast, while some in our group were enjoying some European-style dishes that they had not otherwise been able to obtain since coming to Ghana, I enjoyed finding hidden places to eat, often having to open a pot myself to see and understand what was inside. Similarly, I once told Kenneth that I did not care where we went to eat, assuming that he would find the most hygienic place possible. We ended up stopping for some really good food that even I raised my eyebrows as we watched her wash our plates. After we had eaten some of it, he commented, “this is the most sketch place I’ve ever eaten at!...And you get to share it with me, Anita!” I know that I might have been a bit more careful about my food then as well as at other times, but when in doubt, I always follow the best advice I have received: if the food is supposed to be hot, then make sure it is hot; if it is cold, it might not have been cooked well enough or more likely its been sitting around collecting bacteria and flies. and no, i havent been sick yet (KNOCK ON WOOD!!!!) but everyone i know has been to the hospital either themselves or taking their friend (myself included), but that again is another story, and everyone has recovered, thanks.
I was also told before I arrived that if you are invited to eat someone’s food, it is impolite to say no. This was only the tip of the iceberg of my confusion on how to invite and handle the invitation to food. As much as I try to always be polite, I’m still unsure as to when exactly to invite someone. The boundary line of who to invite is incredibly blurry to me.
Once, a friend of mine bought some chocolate from a corner store, and while the clerk was getting what I wanted, she offered me some of her chocolate, so I ate some. When I turned around to leave, the man behind me asked irritably why he had not been invited to eat it. I felt so sorry that I had forgotten to invite him that I tried to buy my own and share it with him, but the bigger problem was that I was even more confused about the situation than usual. Why he was mad at me instead of my friend, who had since left? It was not my chocolate to offer, but was I supposed to offer everything I ever put in my mouth? But I also realized from this experience that I need to be very aware of my surroundings at all times. I have inadvertently offended SO many people!
In an even more confusing adventure, I was walking between blocks in Volta Hall, carrying my freshly made cup of
I have now learned more about invitations to food. After trying a few times to ask the personally more comfortable question of “would you like some?” I realized that there was a big difference between this question and the formal “you are invited.” On the few occasions that I have gotten the timing correct, I was confused at the response of “thank you” (which to me implies that you will take some). However, I realized that they are thanking me for the offer, and that because the whole ordeal is generally just a formality, the no in my response of "no thank you" is completely unnecessary.
It does still feel really good to be invited to food. Everyone does it, but it still makes me feel so welcome. Even people like the ladies who clean Volta Hall, a lady who was selling me food outside the Legon annex and a young child who had just received the free food that I was handing out, offer me their food. As much as I still get scared about being polite with my food every time I eat, I love the welcome, to not only the food but also the country and its culture, that I feel each time I am around someone else’s food.
Probably my best friend here, Elizabeth, has Ghanaian roommates. At first, every time I visited her, someone in her room was cooking. However, since the very first visit, I have been intrigued by both the style in which they cook and also the social aspect of sharing food. As I previously mentioned, I have been adventurous about trying food, but I had never watched it being prepared, except for pounding the fufu and cutting of a mango. The girls never seemed to put in more than one ingredient in at a time, and seemed to spend the majority of their time waiting to put something else into it or stir it. They never seem concerned about the food sticking, going over, or being otherwise ruined, and can go about their night seemingly without thinking about it. However, by dinner time, a delicious meal is ready!
Sharing food has always been a favorite pastime of mine (DUH). The only way that I have found to make eating food an even more enjoyable experience has been to share it with someone. Ghanaians seem to be professionals at this. I love seeing a boy walk through a dinning hall toward a large, rowdy group of boys carrying a large bowl piled high with food to share together. I was even more excited to share my own first large plate of food with Ghanaians. About seven of us had been conversing about their love for American boys at my friend’s dorm, when I realized that the food that someone had prepared was finally ready, and they were all gathering to eat it. I assumed my most unassuming position on the bed, not expecting to be included in the food. A sharp, “Anita, why aren’t you eating with us? Get over here and eat!” brought me to my senses. They were just as excited about sharing food together as I was!
When I commented about my inability to cook in
thanks to those of you who survived this saga, i dont feel like i wrote it for nothing anymore....!
