Rasta Hair

 Friday, November 26, 2010

 For someone who rarely goes to the hairdresser, today was a long and unusual day. I spent over 6 hours sitting on a low wooden in a market stall (hairdressing “salon”) at Bebu, the village just down the road from Adumasa. There was much laughter and discussion and many women with their children coming in and out. Julianna insisted on bringing me and then, thinking she’d have time to get back to her school office work this afternoon, she stayed. It took much longer than she had anticipated and she never made it back. She assured me it was fine, and, when I was done at about 4pm (started just before 10am), she had hair pieces put on (I don’t know the lingo for this; very common among the women to just use wigs or hair pieces (see the pictures in the web album to illustrate the process). My hair will take getting used to, after all the hours spent on it. They did an incredible job and never even stopped for a break! 

Julianna getting her hair pieces sewn on

While I waited for Julianna to have her hair done later this afternoon, I was escorted through part of Bebu's side streets, looking for fruit and bread, by a young lady from Adumasa, Lydia, who has her own market stall on the road, selling hair pieces (where we bought mine; she then came with us to Bebu for the day to help out) and accessories among other things to raise money to complete her senior high school.  The people seemed a little less friendly and the children a little rougher and pushier.  I even witnessed a young boy bullying 2 younger children and the hairdressers younger sister, having just walked home from senior high school, intervened (not as forcefully as I would have liked however), then turned to me, and being one of the few who spoke English today, said “that is a wicked boy”. I was asked for money by several and felt a general sense of unease walking around there.  I found I went through emotional roller coasters today, not being included in the conversation yet feeling, often, as though I was being discussed, hearing the word “abruni” every so often. I have to say that, although they mean no disrespect by it (most don’t anyway), I kind of see it as a white Canadian continuing to call a black African visitor, ”the black one” rather than by her name. I even notice that Julianna does it and it is beginning to bother me. 

There were two young men who came in and were speaking to me in their junior high level English (neither had attempted senior high due to the cost) which I much appreciated, talking about politics etc.. and the women seemingly just hanging out there, were telling them to stop speaking English. The young men were incensed, saying that it was because the women never finished school and couldn’t speak English themselves…obviously them speaking English to me made the women uncomfortable. This reminded me of the signs I have seen on several schools “Speak English all the time”.. it seems to be the government policy. One of the Rotarians (the outgoing president who started the 3H development community campaign- Health, Humanity, Hunger)  told me that his church is for the “elites” and they, of course, only speak English there, not the local vernacular (as though that was “beneath them” somewhat). I gather there is a bit of classism associated with the language, separating the educated from the uneducated (or less so). There is also a push at the schools to award a student-of-the-week, which is the one who speaks English the most regularly (I know, I watched Julianna address the junior school last week, with a crown and satchel).

Martha and Elisabeth (one of the junior student who played my hostess at the Athletics day yesterday, who has asked if she could write me; she is sharp, an obviously a respected student leader, which she seems to handle with tremendous maturity and grace; she wants to become a doctor and I believe she has it in her to make it happen) along with a friend stopped by this morning on their way to the bus to the Athletics field. None of them had eaten so I fed them the rice Juianna had made me last night. Tonight Martha came by on her way home and I shared my little bit of supper I had with her. I will have to ensure I have a full fridge from now on if this Aunty Kym Trend continues. I don’t know Elisabeth’s situation, but I do know that Martha’s father is away all week and her aunt has a roadside table from which she sells a few food items (smoked fish, meat and tomatoes). This is a very common job with the majority of the lower income, less educated individuals in Ghana, much to the chagrin of people like Fei, who complain that there are more people selling than buying and that this doesn’t strengthen the Ghanaian economy). From the looks of these villages (often simply a spattering of decrepit or half-finished houses along a road) and all the tables set up selling pineapples, fish, oranges, biscuits etc.., this concern seems warranted.

Now, to figure out how to sleep with this hair!!

Links to pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/kpedicelli/AtTheTheHairdresser?feat=directlink