Tears of happiness



Aunty Matilda, my favourite cuddler

Little did I know this morning that I would end up crying in my lunch break. After a stressful morning of catching up on too many emails and running to different meetings, I was tricked to come into the big conference room. To my utter surprise all my female colleagues were there, singing a beautiful traditional wedding song. I could not help myself; their gorgeous and laughing faces and beautiful voices made me burst out in tears. I can’t handle surprises. And especially not sweet surprises.

After I had dried my tears and sat down on the round table, one after the other shared with me their recommendations and advises on how to have a warm, affectionate and good marriage. Traditionally in Ghana the older married women of a community sit the bride-to-be down before the wedding day and share all there is to know. While they were talking I tried to frantically make mental notes and remember their wise, loving words. Marriages and relationships may have different dynamics in different cultural contexts, but many of their advices were based on over 10, 20 and even 34 years of blissful marriage experience. So I better listened! And as I have no clue what I am getting myself into and some of you may also not know, I thought I better write this down to remember and share with those that may also need some tips and tricks every once in a while. So hereby the lists of advices from my beautiful Ghanaian sisters.

How to make your marriage happy and loving:

- Make sure to have effective communication, and lots of it. It makes you both close and relaxed and feel connected. And no, they were not talking about verbal communication :-)

- Manage the man’s ego. They are big. If you have a good idea, make him think it’s his idea.

- Patience should be your middle name. You may think you love him. But if you live under the same roof, things will start irritating you. One of them told this old story about how a woman came to complain about her husband to an older aunty. She told her aunty they were always fighting. The aunty gave her a traditional medicine she should put in her mouth and not spit out. The next evening the husband came home and the woman took the medicine. She remembered to not spit it out and kept it in her mouth. The next morning she went to her aunty to thank her for this great medicine. ‘What was it’, she asked, ‘it’s really good’. The aunty answered that she gave her water….

- Nurture the friendship you have. You are marrying your best friend. Remember to keep investing in the friendship and not forget about each other. Do not replace your husband with kids. They will go eventually and you will regret forgetting about the friendship you used to have.

- Always feed him well. That will make him strong and able to perform. But it will also show your respect. So when you come home late from work, kick off your shoes and get into the kitchen and make him good banku.

- When you want him to do things around the house, don’t assume he will do it or think it is also his responsibility. Ask him as if you are asking him a favour, in a nice way. He will do it. Like if you want him to help fetch water or help you cook, ask him nicely and he will do it. He knows he has to eat, so he will come around.

- Show appreciation. Thank him for little things, even if you think he should just do them anyway. If you thank him he will keep doing it without you having to ask.

- Put him first, not your children or work or anything else. Your marriage is the most important.

- Wear a string of beads around your hips. They will make music and he will love it :-)

- And last but not least, work on the marriage; be determined to make it successful. It is not always easy, but don’t give up.



Absorbing all the wisdom....



I may adapt some of these a little bit and contextualize. After all, I don’t think he would want me to cook banku every day.  But when we start quarrelling about something, I am definitely going to think about this special afternoon in which I was initiated into the secrets of marriage.

And then we danced of course. And they showed me some advanced hip-movements to make those beads swing around the hips….



my darling UNICEF ladies















Erwt

Lees net mijn eigen mail en moet tot de conclusie komen dat ik eigenlijk helemaal niet ben wie ik denk dat ik ben. Zo denk ik doorgaans dat ik best wel easy-going ben, makkelijk blij te maken met kleine dingen, relaxt en geen zeikerd. Maar toen zag ik ineens mijn arme geliefde rond rennen in gedachten. Bezweet, met een lijstje in zijn hand van de AH naar de Etos, naar de bakker, terug naar de Hema en naar de slager. En ondertussen ook nog naar de bachelorette van een vriendin, werken, naar zijn ouders, kaarten versturen, cateraars bellen, het huis opruimen, fietsen verschepen en zijn koffers pakken. En toen bleek ik ineens best wel een verwende prinses.
Hierbij het bewijs:


Lieffie,

Kan je please kopen:

-Koffie cupjes- alleen de sterke varianten 3 dozen
-Kaas- oude kaas, niet belegen, liefs Old Amsterdam
-Leverworst- niet met stukjes of iets, gewoon die verse van de AH
-Shampoo voor blond haar, die paarse niet die gele
-De Linda
-prevalin oogdruppels voor hooikoorts - extra sterk
-scheermesjes van de Hema. Die van andere winkels passen niet op dat ding
-De krant uit het vliegtuig
-Groene thee – biologisch en niet met smaakjes

Please geen rookworsten meer, ze liggen hier allemaal over de datum te gaan want ik heb er nooit zin in. En ik kan ook geen ontbijtkoek meer zien.

-Sensodyne tandpasta. Niet die van de Hema die smaakt vies

Dat was het, hoop dat het lukt. Je bent lief.

Ps en ohja ook wat chocola. Die met van de kleine nootjes erin, die witte. Maar niet te veel. En vergeet de KLM dekentjes niet mee te jatten want die kunnen we mooi gebruiken voor bij het kampvuur straks voor alle gasten.


Tsja… ik blijk dus eigenlijk best wel een moeilijk wijf. En heb ik mazzel dat er zo’n ontzettende lieve knappe jongen met mij wil trouwen. Want ik weet nu al dat zijn rugzak morgen weer vol verrassings lekkers zit en dat ik zoals gewoonlijk boos ga worden om al die onbestelde bon bon bloc ‘omdat ik dan straks de rits van de jurk niet meer dicht kan krijgen’. Maar ik moet eigenlijk miljoen keer in mijn handjes knijpen. En een vreugdedansje doen. En zijn lievelingseten koken. En. Niet. Zeuren als het toch de gele shampoo is. Dat vooral. Ik moet echt nodig van mijn erwt af komen.

'Dear Colleague Men, join her in the kitchen for once'

Group emails are huge here in the office. People send around the most random emails to 'all staff'. Most often it is some chain email to make a wish come true ('don't scroll down, this is truely spooky, first keep a number in your head, the phone will ring, make a wish, now scroll down, it will come true soon, really really, but only if you send this email to a million people' or some variation to this theme).

Sometimes the emails are about how vitamine C prevents headaches, menstrual cramps as well as typhoid. Or a warning how snakes hide in your toilet, crowling through the pipes in your house. Also very popular, something religious about the Almighty. ' Send this email to all your friends and God will give you lots of something'. Like love, blessings, money etc.

This morning one of my favorite colleagues sent us all the email below. Thought it gives a nice inside in the stage of women empowerment and the need for some more feminsm here...Happy women's day!

Dear Colleague Men,

As usual, we the men in the GC Office did not make any plans to celebrate our colleague women this year. If the opportunity is gone, at least do not forget to do something special for your woman when you get home this evening. I am suggesting a few tips:

When you get home, give her a warm and affectionate hug. And if you are not as old-fashioned as me, add a good kiss (before you sit at the TV or read the newspapers)
Better still, join her in the kitchen to help prepare the evening meal (at least this once). Do it with all your heart and do not ask too many questions, simply obey orders!

Better still, ask her to vacate the kitchen, to go and relax in bed with a glass of chilled wine, whiles you practically take over preparing the meal (even if it turns out tasteless and indescribable)

Better still, take her for an evening walk, and surprise her with a dinner she will never forget (though not in the negative sense),

When you are finished with serving her dinner (at home or at the restaurant) prepare the bath for her to have a warm bathe (but resist joining her, spare her for once, you naughty boy)

Then while she is in the bath, take time to write a note on a little card using your own words to let her know how much you cherish her and love her (do not buy a ready-made card)

After she has read the card, help her dress up and sit her down in her favorite couch to watch her favorite movie or soap opera (even if Barcelona is playing Chelsea). For once, pretend you also enjoy the soap, even if you can hardly understand what is going on.

And whiles she is watching the TV, and her mobile phone bells in the bedroom, go and pick it and send it to her in the sitting room. However, if you find yourself struggling to know which of her 9 (nine) handbags contains the screaming phone, simply hang all the bags on your shoulders and carry them to her. She will definitely find the bag which has the phone, and she will also thank you for all the GARGANTUAN efforts you have made to make her feel like a woman!!

Cheers to all the women around, but please do not pass on this e-mail to my wife!

Rgds
Charles

Ivaana

3 Months ago these children had never held a pencil or opened a book. They had never been to school because they are shepherd kids who look after cattle all day or help their parents on their farm, fetch water, take care of their siblings, pound fufu and carry out the 1001 other chores of Ghanaian rural children.




But now their parents have agreed they can go to a special school in their community in the afternoon for a few hours. After their work is finished.
They are catching up on what their peers who do go to the normal school have learned over the past years and will integrate into the 3rd grade of the formal school next school year. The parents, most often illiterate themselves, are proud and are convinced now that their children should learn. That it will help them in the long run and will benefit the whole family.

And now, 3 months into the programme, these eager beauties can write their own name. And even write my rather complicated name. And I am proud like a mother each time I see them write on the board, sticking out the tip of their tongue in upper concentration. Another 800.000 out-of-school children to go!

Lekker lapje leer zonder haren

Er gaat niets boven een Ghanese plensbui. Het kan een mooie dag lijken, warm, tikje benauwd maar met lekkere zonneschijn. Maar dan ineens, in 5 minuten valt er een donkergrijze deken over de lucht. Midden op de dag lijkt het een spontane zonsverduistering te worden. De wind trekt aan, de bananenbladeren bewegen woest in de wind en dan begint het tikkelen op het dak. Als je het geluk hebt binnen te zijn tenminste. Het tikt misschien 30 seconden nog enigszins gematigd en gezellig maar dan begint de grote hoos. Regendruppels hier zijn zo groot als een kopje water per stuk. Een tel buiten en je bent doorweekt tot aan je onderbroek en staat tot je enkels in het water. Alle stof wast overal vanaf, de open riolen stromen over en alle vuil uit de stad, inclusief plastic zakken en andere troep stroomt naar de zee.

Vrijwel geen enkele auto hier heeft functionerende ruitenwissers, dus auto’s stoppen midden op straat aangezien je niets meer kan zien door de voorruit. Mensen schuilen bij elkaar of lopen met grote stroken plastic boven hun hoofd in een poging hun haren droog te houden. Tevergeefs doorgaans. De regen ruist zo hard dat je geen normaal gesprek meer kan voeren. Met een beetje geluk onweert het ook nog en het leven komt even totaal tot stilstand. ‘Het regende’ is dan ook een vrij gebruikelijk en volstrekt normaal excuus om ergens niet op te komen dagen. De stroom valt ook meestal uit op dit punt.

En dan, even plots al gekomen, stopt het en klaart het op. Binnen een kwartier kan de lucht weer blauw zijn en ruikt de rode aarde nog wat dampig en muf maar al snel droogt alles op en lijkt het of het nooit heeft geregend. Kom daar eens om in ons miezerklimaat. Mensen vervolgen hun weg, springen over de plassen en steken het vuur weer aan om eten te maken. Mijn nieuwste ontdekking is trouwens een opvallende delicatesse. Koeienhuid die wordt gebakken boven een vuurtje. De haren worden eraf geschroeid tot er een taai geroosterd lapje overblijft waar je lekker lang op kan kauwen. Als je geen hout hebt of kolen is het ook heel normaal om oude autobanden in de fik te steken en daar boven de huid te roosteren. Val je daar niet onmiddellijk dood van neer denk je misschien? Dat zou je wel denken ja. Wat mij betreft is leer toch meer voor mooie tassen en schoenen, dus ik denk dat ik het voor vandaag maar bij mijn geïmporteerde ontbijtkoek houd als tussendoortje.

Obama Dress

2012 is going to be great. Never mind that Mayan prophecy. I am pretty sure about it as so far I see nothing but sunshine and good signs. Of course, it’s only been 4 days, but I am convinced my two predictions for 2012 will come true.
Here we go:

1) Obama will win again and therefore I will get to wear my Obama dress every week at least once.

2) There is a football match planned on our wedding day (Netherlands-Denmark) But –oops- there happens to be a bomb alert causing the match to be cancelled. Very lucky, as I will not have to wear an orange wedding dress then and have a tacky football wedding.



So… no orange, but what should it be instead? My friend M, my sister and I went on a mission to buy a wedding dress in one day. To make sure that we would succeed I had done some rigorous research trying on my future mother in law’s dress. And my mom’s wedding dress.

And google helped me to find a shop called Cinderella. Cinderella is my favourite story of all times and I have read it at least 4000 times, so this store had good karma.

I tried on Sissi dresses. And lace dresses, purple and green dresses. Hideous dresses. Gothic black dresses and off-white-I-look-sick-as-my-skin-and-dress-are-the-same-colour dresses. Princess dresses with pearls and dresses worth 6 months of salary. After an hour or so I got a tiny panic attack in the fitting room, and I wished I had inherited more of my mom’s hippy mindset. When I tried her dress on I asked her where she had bought it her response was: ‘Oh you know, it was my favourite dress and your father liked it too, so I decided to wear it for the wedding and your dad wore purple trousers and Spanish boots that were very fashionable those days’. Good Lord, if only it were the late seventies, my problem would have been solved. I could have worn my favourite Obama dress.

But like I said, 2012 is going to be great, the stars are aligning and everything will be fine. I know, because my credit card didn’t fail me when I finally tried on the right dress and paid. It must have been a sign. And I know because I just ate 19 chocotoffs while writing this, but I just checked and it looks like I am still the same size as an hour ago. So I’m guessing the dress will probably still fit me. And I know because friends that live on the other side of the world are booking their tickets to be there. It may be the end of the Mayan calendar, but even if it rains apocalyptically that day, and I end up dancing on rain boots in the mud, 2012 will surely rock.

Almost driving home for Christmas

This is my third harmattan-season. Harmattan is a dry and amazingly dusty West African wind. It blows sand from the Sahara into Ghana, blocking the sun and making Accra a hazy, dusty city, cooling it down and covering it with amber coloured sand. This time of the year, the humidity drops up till the level that it actually makes sense to straighten your hair. It makes people stay in bed longer ‘because it’s too cold to get up’. And it makes my security guards wear their ski-jackets and hats.

‘But this is Africa, how cold does it really get’, one may ask, thinking that Ghana is on the equator. 'Well', I would answer, 'at night now it gets as cold as a shivering 26C. And during the day we are freezing, with just 30C.' My colleagues complain that the cold makes their skin crack and pity me for being from 'a cold country like this'. So yeah, time for woollen cardigans. I even wear jeans and shoes these days, getting ready for some real winter weather next week. Bring on the snow and hot chocolate for some home sweet home time. I can't wait to ride my bicycle, kiss my friends and family and spend some time in my pyjamas, drinking wine and secretly eating all the cookies from the Christmas tree.