By: Megan Russell (Published 7/15)

Oburoni vs. Ghanaian Practicality

The following three things are among the most important skills I think Americans can learn from Ghanaians.

1. Walk slower.

If there is one thing I have noticed while living in Accra it is that people walk very, very slowly. I am, by nature, an extremely fast walker, so at first I was annoyed and even pained by the pace at which everyone chooses to stroll. For some reason I have always felt that walking was a waste of time, and that it was where you were going that mattered most so why not walk as fast as possible?

However, before long I started to notice the benefits of slowing down a bit. Not only does walking slower give you more time before you get back to the office after a lunch break, but it gives you more time to converse with your comrades. It teaches you to enjoy the journey and not just the destination. When you stride more leisurely you feel more relaxed, digest your large fufu lunches better, and have the opportunity to stop and talk to more people along the street.

In fact, going slower is a good suggestion for life in general, especially in America, where people always seem to be in a hurry to get to where they need to go next. Living here has definitely taught me to slow down my life substantially, especially when it comes to waiting for food at restaurants. In fact, I have noticed that the only things people don’t seem do more slowly here are talking and driving.

2. Respect each other at all times and consider everyone your family.

The politeness of everyone in Ghana has amazed me from the minute I stepped off the plane.

Complete strangers greet each other and exchange that funny snap handshake everywhere I look. Drivers in cars often joke around with the hawkers on the street and people start every conversation with “Hello! How are you?” Since I have been living here I think I have learned more about manners and having a polite conversation than I ever have in the United States.

Not only that, but I get the feeling that Ghanaians are all interconnected by something much larger than just citizenship of the same country, and that something is family. I am touched by the closeness of everyone here – every person I am introduced to here is considered a brother, sister, father or mother.

The fact that replies to greetings are varied based on the relative age of the person you are addressing shows how respect has even been built into the language. I have found myself often wondering about the possibilities of this same level of respect and affinity for family being present in America.

3. Learn how to balance things on your head.

This might be the most important lesson I take away from Ghana. Though I can’t do it with nearly as much ease as everyone here can, I have definitely taken note of its practicality. It amazes me that people here can not only balance substantially heavy loads on top of their heads, but they can walk and even run with them.

Balancing things on your head allows the full weight of the object to be carried by your entire body, and more importantly, it allows your hands to be free to perform other useful tasks while walking. Another added bonus: it looks cool. However, substantial neck strength is required and Americans seem to be afflicted with the terrible condition of weak neck muscles or maybe just laziness.

I laugh to even think about the citizens of Los Angeles walking to work with their brief cases balanced on their heads. Americans do not seem to be nearly as adept in the fields of ingenuity, balance, or dexterity as our Ghanaian friends, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try.

Oburoni vs. The Tro-tro

I got on the wrong tro-tro the other day. It’s really too bad that there are two tro-tro lines with names that sound exactly alike. Shiashi and Tieshi, Tieshi and Shiashi… same thing right? Wrong. I have since learned that these two stops are on opposite sides of Accra.

The real problem here is that I am still in my first week of tro-tro training. The first time I braved this intense public transportation system, I was the last person admitted onto a larger tro-tro bus thing and was told to sit, backwards, on the “hot-seat” between the driver and the passenger seat. I wasn’t about to argue, as my only other options were getting off and waiting for another tro-tro or standing up in the aisle with no visible handrail available. The second I sat down I realized why it was called a “hot-seat,” the reason being it was a box covering the engine and it was very, very hot.

And there I sat in the tro-tro, sweating, in between the driver and the passenger seat, my back to the windshield, and my butt getting warmer by the second. My hands were turning red because I was gripping the two seats on either side of me so hard, and the entire population of the tro-tro stared at me as I fought the urge to jump ship. But soon we were on our way and I relaxed as the breeze from the open windows cooled me off instantaneously and I thought, “Hey! This isn’t so bad after all.”

It was my most recent experience with the tro-tro that really posed a problem, the time when I got on the wrong tro-tro. I have realized it is quite the handicap to not speak Twi at these bus stops, because the tro-tros pull in with the mate hanging out of the window yelling something indecipherable and making an accompanying hand motion. I usually just ask the mate or the people around me if that particular bus is headed to anywhere on my list of pre-determined stops, and then I hope that they heard me right.

This time they didn’t. I quizzically asked the mate, “Shiashi?” To which he replied: “Yes, yes hurry get in.” (The tro-tro hadn’t stopped moving and I quickly realized he expected me to trot after it and jump in as they were pulling away from the stop.) With this feat completed I immediately felt something was wrong. There was no one on this tro-tro and ones to Shiashi were usually jam-packed. But I swallowed my fear, trusted in the mate, and stayed quiet for about two more stops. When he asked for my money I questioned again, “Shiashi?” …This time he paused. “No, no. I said Tieshi. You get off here.” Before I knew it the bus had stopped, I had been dropped off, and the mate told me to walk towards “that overhang in the distance” before zooming off into the surrounding traffic.

Turns out the overhang was a mile away. I must have asked 14 people where the next tro-tro stop was, and thank God they all pointed me in the right direction because I had no idea where I was. Once I found it I waited around for 20 minutes because each time a tro-tro pulled up everyone at the stop sprinted to it, throwing elbows to fend the others off. I just sat back and let this happen, having no energy or impending appointment to will me to act in such a manner.

Eventually I managed to catch a tro-tro towards Shiashi  (I made sure to double-check with several people.) In the meantime one of my roommates, who obviously does not struggle with the whole tro-tro thing, called me and told me he had just passed me and then laughed, adding some salt to the wound.

With nothing hurt but my pride, I learned some valuable lessons that day. Each time I brave the tro-tros I improve, and all I ask is that if you see an oburoni struggling at a bus stop, please help them, because nothing is more comforting than a helping hand. Also, that oburoni could be me.