Becoming a Villager

This time of year is known as No-Quie-Ah: the end of the rainy season, before the Harmatan winds blow in, and the busiest time for farmers who must harvest their crops and prepare for the dry season.

Last week I had the amazing opportunity to spend three days in a rural village in upper east Ghana with a family of subsistence farmers. I really wanted to know what life is like for someone who has no electricity or running water and must produce all the food they need to stay alive. Because my work with Engineers Without Borders is to help farmers make more money, I felt it was vital I understand the challenges they face.

So, it turns out village life is a lot of hard work and as hard as I tried, I really couldn’t cut it as a farmer. I was exhausted after five minutes of working the Shea butter when a girl half my age stepped in and worked tirelessly for two hours. I pounded millet but could do nothing but watch as the women expertly separated the grains from their shells with a couple of large bowls. I was okay at harvesting peanuts, but then, so were the toddlers who sat beside me. I tried to weed the rice fields but was sent back to the peanuts as I kept getting stuck in the mud. The men humoured me as I tried to weed the corn fields mostly because it is unusual to see a woman doing such a task. The clothes I washed with a bucket and bar soap did not get clean. And it took three days, but I finally managed to carry water on my head – they had to give me a bucket with a lid.

The perception is that white folk are too weak to live a village life. After my adventure, I have to agree with them. All their water came from a murky pond (lily pads and all) nearby. They drank it straight. I had to filter it through my t-shirt (I’m told it removes larvae and the eggs that cause worms) then add a bunch of chemicals until it tasted like mouldy pool water. For the most part I chose dehydration as my preferred alternative.

But my host family made the work fun and the pool water bearable. At night, I sat with the women and girls to tell stories, sing and dance. I learned that the scars people have on their face, stomach and back are markings unique to the community they are from, a tradition that was started during slavery so you could always find your family if you managed to escape. I was asked “Is it very different in your place?” and talked about washing machines, apartment buildings, and huge farms that feed millions of people who don’t know how to grow food. I also contributed a rendition of House of the Rising Sun (for mom) and Take It Easy (for dad) but I’m afraid I could not compete with the talent and excitement of their traditional songs and dances.

Despite the fact that I make a pretty lousy farmer, spending those three days in the village is one of the best things I’ve ever done. I know I will think back to my stay every day of my life and be inspired by the hard work, kindness, generosity and sprit of the people I met.

I hope I can alter the western perspective of what it means to be African. Those children we know from the World Vision commercials with the extended bellies and flies landing on their heads were instead running around laughing and playing pretty much all the time and they absolutely loved it when I started making funny faces with them. Yes, there is illness, hardship and a serious lack of opportunity for entrepreneurs but there is also immense happiness, family and community, ambition, love, and hope for what the future will bring.

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