"You are trying, oh!"

In spoken Ghanaian English, it is virtually impossible to have a conversation without someone peppering the dialogue with “oh!”  The “oh” part comes at the end of the sentence and is used to place emphasis on an action.  Last night I had a conversation with some Ghanaian graduate students who are traveling through the Upper West to collect data for their soil science research.  When they asked how I was getting around town and I responded “by bicycle” their response was “You are trying, oh!”  Indeed.

Trying might just be the most apt verb to apply to an anthropologist.  There’s a lot of pressure to try.  With attempts to immerse ourselves into the context of research, trying is sometimes all we are doing.  I find that even before trying can become part of the agenda, I must have the motivation and momentum.  After my 12 hour bus ride to Wa, I vowed to not go immediately take the nap I so desperately craved. Instead of napping I went bike shopping. A bike is necessary in Wa because public transport is spotty.  I purchased a five gear bike made in China that all the hip old men in Wa ride.  I rode my new bike back to my house with a certain conviction of aggression so as to let all of the motorbike swarms know that I was “serious, oh!” My first attempt at trying in Wa went splendidly.

On day two of biking in Wa, I decided to take up the trying a notch.  Because my bike is detailed with an awesome basket in the front and a platform for bungee cording stuff in the back, I decided that I should do some shopping so as to make use of my bike accessories.  The only things I was interested in purchasing were things that would hydrate me. It’s the start of the dry season here in the Upper West and that entails coping with the Harmattan winds.  I’ve realized I’ve seriously underestimated the influence of the Harmattan winds.  The air is dry, dry, dry.  That, in turn, makes people dry, dry, dry.  Even though I’m not a huge watermelon fan, a watermelon was all I could imagine eating.  So I bought a watermelon and put it in my front basket and then walked my bike across the street to another shop where I could purchase ample amounts of water.  Drinking water in Ghana is sold in little plastic bags.  You can buy these little plastic bags in bulk.  I opted to buy in bulk because I’m consistently thirsty.  As I was trying to wrestle the plastic tower of water bags into my front basket (a feat I should have realized would never work) I dropped the plastic tower and approximately 40 bags of water plopped onto the ground.  This performance took place quite publicly and I did my best to enact and embrace the spectacle of ineptness that is, I’m pretty sure, every Ghanaian’s truest opinion of foreigners. After my performance, some girls helped me gather up the bags and I took one round of goods back to my house. This is where I decided that my ineptness (aka trying) was not finished for the day.   I was ready for an encore.  With a watermelon and 15 water bags weighing down my front basket, I decided that putting the kick stand down would definitely work.  It did not.  The bike toppled over and my watermelon cracked.  It was a gruesome crime scene, but I salvaged the watermelon and took a bow.

It does take a lot of emotional reserve to always be in the spotlight, but I kinda like being able to publicly demonstrate my ineptness.  As someone immersed in American society, where admitting ignorance or inability is seen as weakness (this becomes even more the case within academia), it is refreshing to be able to acknowledge that I don’t know it all and I can’t do it all.  I’m merely trying.