Lessons in Traditional Economics and Being an Outsider

Though I'm pretty exhausted, I'm writing this now because I know if I don't, I may never do so, and it's worth sharing.

I can very proudly say that I've gotten over a lot of my culture shock over the past few days. This marks the end of day three of five (and the last day I have for my own personal adventures), and I have to say that my attitude has changed a whole lot. Starting with confusion and a bit of fear, I now have more of an understanding and affinity towards Ghana. 

Today, Hayden, Maria, and I spent time in the Accra Arts Centre which is a market full of artisans who were creating many of their wares in front of your eyes. Of course, I couldn't help shopping for anything and everything including 4 wood masks for 5 cedi each (about $3 US) and a replacement pair of "patch pants" since I ripped my other pair in the crotch in a capoeira class last semester. 

 
We also ate at a quaint restaurant in the arts centre where we indulged in the quintessential Ghanaian dish: groundnut soup with fufu. To translate, it's a sticky ball of pounded starch, made of either manioc, plantain, or a combination thereof, plopped in a rich and spicy peanut stew. You use the fufu as a receptacle to eat the soup. As in many countries around the world, it is customary to eat with the right hand, so it was definitely fun to literally dig into the food and feeling the heat and textures with your fingers. It's a more tactile, personal experience with food. Not only was it a fun ordeal, but the pairing of the flavorful soup with the filling starch provided sustenance and satisfaction for hours.

There were two men at the restaurant who followed us into the arts centre and ate with us who were clearly being overtly friendly to us in order to show us to their shop afterwards to get us to buy from them. I'm still trying to decide whether or not they would have been as outgoing and helpful had they known that we wouldn't have bought anything from them. I would hate to confuse genuine Ghanaian friendliness with a feigned sense of caring and hospitality. Nonetheless, we enjoyed them telling us about their lives, teaching us how to correctly eat fufu, and taking us to their shop. One of the men was a woodworker who made drums, masks, and statues, and the other (claimed to be) a painter. The men, along with their friends, gave us a short impromptu drumming lesson, though I could tell that these were all tactics for them to develop rapport so they can charge us more for whatever they were selling.

I hear that as we go around the world, merchants in different countries will start giving you some fun excuses to make you pay more. In the traditional bargaining scheme, there is no set value for anything. The seller gives a highly inflated price, the buyer counters with a very discounted amount, and the two banter back-and-forth until they agree upon a value in the middle with which both parties are satisfied. Some people feel awkward bargaining, but that's just how exchanges in these places work. If the seller has an inkling that you will pay more than their predicted value, they start higher, and it is the seller's duty to make it as fair of an exchange as possible. Merchants often begin telling stories about how many mouths they have to feed so that you feel bad for wanting to pay a lower price. Even if those stories were true, they would not sell you a product for lower than what they perceive its value to be. So even if you pay what you think is a measly amount, they are still getting a profit because they are agreeing to sell it to you. Anything above that measly amount that you ended paying would have just been more of a profit for them.

Every time I was bargaining, I kept thinking, "Why am I arguing for several minutes over 5 cedi?" I know it's three bucks, but it's this bickering that is expected of these interactions. And apparently, I'm good at it. I found it a tendency of Ghanaian merchants that, once the price is negotiated, they act defeated and frustratedly hand you the merchandise and say something along the lines of, "Just give me your price and go away." In that way, they make you feel guilty that you just beat them to a pulp and, in turn, make you feel like you have won. However, the second you walk away, they pocket the cash and laugh with their friends about how much extra you paid them.

After that lesson in traditional economics, we headed to Legon, northeast of Accra, to the University of Ghana and got to spend some time with my good friend Tom Mayer. I like to consider Tom one of my partners in crime at Rochester because we both created (essentially) the same major and suffer through it all because we've never gone a single semester without taking a class together. I'm so happy that we were able to coordinate seeing each other because of our limited communication, but this just comes to show the connections we're making in this small world. I think it's downright unbelievable. It kinda blows my mind that two friends got together on the other side of the world as if nothing were different.

Tom imparted some of his knowledge on us as a fellow American student who has been in the country for about a month. My favorite thing he told us, by far, was the nickname that locals gave to the sewage gutters that are in abundance throughout the city, as well as all over the world. They are lovingly called "obruni traps," as foreigners often trip or fall into them.

Today's happenings were refreshing compared to yesterday. There were, of course, some highlights, including finding Ghanaian Noah Berg on the trotro from Tema to Accra while chomping on sweet plantain chips we bought off a lady's head. With that, though, came many frustrations like getting harassed at Makola Market and getting lost trekking the entire city for an ATM that accepted MasterCards for Maria. 

 

I guess I what I was most upset with was feeling ostracized. My mohawk, or galas (accent on the first syllable) in Twi, as I learned, definitely attracted a lot of attention. And I guess the whole being Asian-American tourist thing was pretty uncommon, too. I was just so fed up that I was being made fun of and felt so different, but then I had a revelation. I wasn't going to blend in... ever. I was blatantly an outsider. I had "obruni" tattooed on my forehead. So I had to own it.

It's not like any of the people were necessarily trying to hurt me. They were just very fascinated by my presence. They were lighthearted about me being "on their turf," so I had to play along with them on their terms. Instead, of feeling attacked, I began smiling back more and letting people feel my hair and laughing harder at myself than they were laughing at me. This switch in my attitude made everything better, and by my third day, I had learned how to deal with the constant calls and looks. I realized that all of their attention was out of interest and not cause they wanted to attack me.

I have so much more to write about, but I will recap all of that eventually. I need to go off and enjoy my last few days in Ghana!