It’s on, has been since last week. Perhaps because I am so happy to be back in Cairo (got in at 6:30 this morning), or perhaps because this is our last Ramadan in Egypt, I have no sense of the irritation I felt over this holiday the last time it rolled around.
You heard it here first: Ghana needs COMMUNITY ORGANIZERS.
I didn’t like Sarah Palin’s snotty dismissal in her speech last week of Barack Obama’s first job after college. I felt even worse that, as a supporter, I could not myself quite explain what a community organizer does.
But after pondering with some distress mile after mile of appalling living conditions in Ghana — garbage strewn everywhere, particularly into streams; sanitation virtually non-existent; terrible traffic resulting from nonsensical roadblocks; structures for housing barely habitable; homeless, starving dogs and cats — it occurred to me that, if someone were to help Ghana’s poor people (a) demand their rights and/or (b) pool their resources, mightn’t the quality of life improve, however gradually?
There is plenty of wealth in Ghana. For example, the government has enough money to sponsor a 20-SUV motorcade to escort its top politicians to a festival three hours outside of the capital. (I saw one — the SUVs were as big and shiny as they come).
Elected officials indeed have "actual responsibilities." But sometimes people need to get organized to remind them of whom they are responsible to.
Tamale, Ghana: Who is supposed to pick up those tires?
. . . is all the pretty dresses. Although there are certainly a large number of people who wear the cheap secondhand imports from the United States, there is also a proud representation of women, rich and poor, who stride everywhere in the vibrant local prints and batiks. The beautiful fabrics — with their rich oranges, pinks, blues, greens, reds and purples — are in many cases just wrapped, once or twice around the female form, secured by a second piece of fabric pulled around the middle. But you also see the most stylish and even whimsical dresses, made to fit their wearers perfectly by what must be a remarkable national corps of dress-makers.
Many fashions are two-piece and floor length, with off-the-shoulder necklines and two-tiered hems. Some are simple frocks, but especially flattering because they have been tailored to their owners. Some have remarkable ornamentation made of the same fabric, and many come with matching head gear. I have even seen “made to order” prints with the logos of companies or banks standing out among the bold colors.
Although I have seen my fill of drab urban exteriors and unimaginative architecture, Ghana does have, when it comes to outfitting its women (and men, but that is a different story), a remarkable sense of style.
These were taken by a colleague. This is my last working day of a three-week inquiry into the intersection between business and agriculture in Ghana.
I head home — finally — tomorrow night.
(Upon hearing the name come out, about one hour before the official announcement):
1. I have never heard of this woman, not even in passing. Better consult Wikipedia.
2. What is with her hair? Hmm . . I wonder if I could get mine to do that.
3. Did I read that correctly? She has a five-month old baby? And four other children? That is just . . . amazing.
4. Pro-life. Of course.
5. What is her last name, again? How do you pronounce it? Well, at least I can remember her first name. Update: Her middle name is Louise.
6. Okay, this is really just ridiculous. It cannot possibly be true.
Huh.
Today I met a woman named “Endurance.” Next week, I have a meeting scheduled with a woman — or is it a man — named “Smile.”
More reflections on Ghana soon. It is not that it is not interesting, but it is taking a while for me to draw conclusions, or even to decide whether I like it here.
Update: I met a “Beloved.”
Once again, it is such a treat for me to be able to log on for reports from home.
I admit to feeling a bit stunned by the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics two weeks ago, as in, ohmigod, how can they get that many people to perform that many feats of artistry, all in perfect sync, all so exquisitely dressed and groomed? How can the United States — whose Super Bowl shows for the past several years have degenerated to sheer insult — ever stage an opening ceremony of remotely comparable skill and impact?
Fortunately, the United States does not have to follow Beijing. But the UK does. I must say, the British contribution to the Closing Ceremonies presented a welcome contrast to the impeccably staged Chinese performances. The Brits’ brief song and dance seemed to emphasize — through individualized costumes and choreography — the remarkable diversity and energy of London, presented with an attitude of, “You won’t catch us all marching in lockstep.” And the Hot Mama singing “Whole Lotta Love” accompanied by Jimmy Page on top of a red double-decker bus was a nice, raucous touch.
I know, the exhibition of cultural values needn’t be a contest. And the Chinese truly are just amazing (at the moment, I am watching some kind of red and gold, five-story tower of people who are climbing and repelling about, yet another beyond-belief display). But they have made their point: China is all about order, discipline and control (and over-the-top performances that go on a bit too long). That’s fine. The West is about other things, many of which are worth being glad of.