Beer, Tro-Tro’s, and the Meaty Ghanaian Goat

As you might have surmised, I haven’t put my arms far enough around this place yet to tell many good stories. So, in lieu of actual stories to tell, you get the little mind-scratchers that cross my path. Here are a few of the latest:

In plenty of upstanding establishments, a large beer is cheaper than a large water. Accra may have a few faults...this is not one of them...

As for the food: I’d like to say that I’m used to it by now, but as much as my neo-socialist, inner-anthropologist, eat-it-and-say-thank-you soul desires to be, I’m still heading for the Indian and Lebanese spots pretty often. Overall, Ghanaian food is good, but a lot of goat is served here. And by a lot, of course, I mean not much at all. Goats aren’t exactly the muscle-bound of the animal kingdom, and especially not in Ghana…but they are plentiful. Anyway, the goat usually arrives in various bone-only forms in dishes with spicy red sauce and onions and more spicy red sauce, and is intended, I think, to serve as meat. Of the 18 individual pieces of “goat meat” I have been served, I think I've been able to extract actual meat – I’m using a 2-chew minimum here – from exactly three pieces. Now, I didn’t even bother with about the last six pieces, so maybe I’ve shortchanged the Ghanaian goat and its meatiness. At this point, I feel British in my apathy towards the Ghanaian goat, but I’m determined to show some old-fashioned American perseverance...

Emanuel, the affable security guard at our office building, asked me for an Easter gift. I asked him what he would like, and he said he’d like to go to Papaye with me: a joint near our office that serves up huge portions of rice and chicken for $4. A decent, cooked meal - that’s what Emanuel wanted for Easter. At lunch, I learned that Emanuel has been in Accra for ten years, during which time his wife and two small children continue to live in his home village, which is four hours away. This helps me deal with being apart from Jess for just the last month. For Emanuel, every month is like last month - and the payoff of his sacrifice is a life where a $4 meal is still a luxury? If his wasn’t the story of 100 million migrant men in cities all over the world, I might be tempted to ask what’s wrong with Emanuel. But because that IS the case, I find myself asking what’s wrong with the rest of us...

I reviewed the HR files of my employees, and found that my lowest-paid employees make $60 per month, or the proverbial $2 per day. This means that my employee is my target client. Not comfortable with this...

I took my first ride in a tro-tro over Easter weekend. Tro-tro’s are 12-passenger minibuses that serve as the extremely affordable public transport method for most residents of Accra. (These 20+ passenger vehicles will be familiar if you've traveled elsewhere: East Africans call them matatus, and Mexicans call them motorcycles.) Anyway, for 20 cents, you can take a 30-minute tro-tro ride all the way across town. I only had to go up the road, and I’m glad for it – my first tro-tro had 24 passengers. And the roof was low. And I'm enormous...


PG