Robert Rosencrans, USC

Outside crowded passenger vans and taxis speed by, and the children in
school uniforms play American video games on neighboring computers.
Even when connected to the entire world via the internet in this Cape
Coast cyber cafe, the reminders that Ghana waits just outside are
everywhere. Culture shock is by now a phrase so often repeated that it
loses any meaning until you experience it. At least that was my
experience. The streets are chaotic; drivers honk to remind you
(gently, but firmly) that they are on a collision course with you,
street sellers offer goods ranging from cell phones to sandals and
everything in between. Perhaps the most jarring experience is to
notice a corporate logo printed on the side of a corrugated metal hut.
Similarly, the Ghanaians have an affinity for expressing their
religious views in store signs, thus "God Is Great Computer Repair"
and "Jesus Saves Instant Photo". Water is drunk from industrially
sealed plastic bags, and President Obama's photo is everywhere--on
welcome signs, toothbrush packages, and yes, water bags. Ghana too has
caught the advertising bug. Most everyone here speaks some English,
but between each other, almost always in Fante, Twe, or one of the
nearly fifty other dialects.

When I landed, I had only a vague idea of what I was meant to be doing
here. Research on sustainable agriculture, or something like it. It
felt pretentious to come here, with the assumption that I could
somehow help. What good could I be to this country? Coupled with
entering this strange country, synthesized in part from a world which
existed two thousand years ago, with goats and cattle wandering the
dirt roads, and in part from the industrialized society we are
familiar with, with concrete (although occasional) sidewalks, taxis,
internet, and even an approximation of ice cream called Fan Yo, this
uncertainty was anxiety provoking, to say the least. Worst of all for
me was the experience of the language barrier. Being on the outside of
every conversation, and always feeling that a joke was being had which
I wasn't in on, is unpleasant to say the least. That experience,
however, became a germ from a which an idea and direction for research
sprouted.

All of the time, development volunteers come here with big plans for
Ghana. "Modernize and Christianize", as the old saying goes. As a
result, the Ghanaians too experience a language barrier, but that
barrier is internal. They become strangers in their own country. The
government's official language is English, and to date I have yet to
meet a farmer who spoke it as their native or most natural tongue.
Likewise, how many development organizations bother to teach their
volunteers the native language? And how many publish their plans in
Fante or Twe? With perhaps good reason, very few. The investment
wouldn't be worth it, unless those volunteers were coming for more
than a few months. You can pick up what else you need on the
street--the Ghanaians are, by and by large, extremely helpful.

Nevertheless, it seemed to me that a great need would be served by
working around this basic barrier, by finding and accumulating the
words so often used in development, but in their native language.
Sustainability. Food Security. Organic. Conservation. They have a
different way of communicating these things. Today, for example, I
learned that in Fante, one would say "nyame nsa no edwuma" to refer to
what we call "organic". This literally translates to "everything that
God makes", and stands in opposition to "endzema a nympa aye", or
"everything produced by human beings", which refers to industrial
practices like pesticides, herbicides, and so forth.

The opportunities abound for clarity and parity, and with each passing
day, I feel as though I belong a little more, as I gain in language
and understanding. This is an incremental and necessarily incomplete
process, but one that in conversations, I have realized all of us
student researchers share. I no longer feel so pretentious or out of
place, because I know we don't come to help; I have no illusions of
saving the country or modernizing it. We come to learn, and in
learning discover how we might help this place to help itself. That's
all I have for now. Best wishes and medase ("thank you" in Twe).