Cycles
21 October 2006
The measurement and management of time is one of the fundamental realms that cultures have dominion over. The construction of cycles is partly determined by our environment and partly determined by our explosive imaginations. Because of this, cultural conceptions of time are unclassifiable, porous, and inevitably in a state of flux. Yet in order to bring order to our universe(s), we are forced to comply with our societies' definition of seasons, hours, days, elections, revolutions, etc. This is one of the major challenges we have when we cross cultural borders outside of our countries or even within our countries. Often our insistence upon our way of perceiving the world leads to intolerance, disagreement, and social tension. As I mark my one year anniversary of living in Ghana - and just one month shy of my first year in Guaman - I have come to appreciate the power of these constructions in both positive and negative terms.
As an American, I feel that impatience and punctuality are part of my birthright. When a meeting is supposed to start at 7:15 I try to arrive by 7:00. When a package is supposed to arrive in seven to ten days I expect it in five. In Ghana this is anything but the case. If the community is holding some kind of ceremony the invitation will state that it will start at 7:00 "prompt" but in actuality it will start at 10:30 to 11:00. If someone is supposed to give you back something you lone them "tomorrow," then you should expect to get it within the month. For almost the full first year this frustrated me to no end, but little by little I began to understand the reason for it. Because of uncertainties like the weather, the availability of food, the reliability of transportation and even the amount of people you need to meet and greet on the way somewhere, you can really only hold an extremely tentative idea of what time an event is going to begin. It is easy to see why this might seem inefficient and even irresponsible when you are first exposed to it, but after a year or so it starts to make sense. (I pasted a copy of an article I wrote for the Peace Corps' Newsletter to the end of this email entitled "African Time," which was published five or so months ago.)
One year later I have also experienced the first natural environmental cycle in seasons since I arrived. We are now entering the "dry season" - one of two seasons in Ghana including the "wet season." To be honest, it seems that the only difference between these two seasons is the length and intensity of the storms. In the dry season, there are a few very intense thunder and lightning storms every week; during the wet season there are a few smaller lightning-less storms everyday. A few other things you notice are the types of insects and animals that inhabit the environment around you. The big hairy spiders, bird-sized moths, and hornets that I remember in my first days here are now back; the leaf-and-twig mimicking bugs that became part of my houses' decoration from May through September seem to have all vanished to their breeding grounds.
I am in the process of making some pretty serious decisions about my Peace Corps service. Now that I have been here for one year, I realize just how short one year is. I am currently debating whether or not I should experience three "cycles" of life in Ghana. In other words, I am thinking of extending my service for one year. That means I wouldn't come home until January of 2009. The perk to all of this is that in December of 2007 Peace Corps will pay for me to come home for one month. I know that the extra year of service would greatly enhance the projects I have been working on. Anyhow, we will have to wait and see what happens.
I also thought I'd let you know how the scholarship fund is going. Safowa has been going to school now for about three weeks, and I am happy to inform you that she is doing well and enjoying it very much. The $120 spent this term covers her admissions, school fees, school uniform, and hostel fees. It seems that the total cost per year will be about $350 to $360. The Women's Association for Children's Welfare has also used part of the funds (roughly $50, or 500,000 cedis) generated for Safowa to help another student by the name of Salomey Dongbe to start her classes. Hopefully we will be able to get more assistance in the future to expand and continue this program. That kind of money isn't easy to come by in Ghana, so more contributions will help the program to stay alive. Again, Safowa, Salomey, and Guaman warmly thank everyone who contributed to the scholarship fund. Thank you so much.
I've let this message go on for to long, so I'll stop here and let you know how the environment aspect of my service is going in the next email. I'm thinking of all of you and hoping that your horizons are drenched in sunlight. Oh yes, and please give the Neoconservatives a good ass-kicking come November 7th.
Love,
Douglas
________________________________________________________________________
From the May 2006 Peace Corps Newsletter:
"African Time"
by Douglas J. La Rose
A common frustration among volunteers is dealing with "African time." We often find ourselves glancing back and forth from our watches to our Newsweek waiting for half of our group members to arrive to a meeting. Sometimes we wait in vain; sometimes they show up; sometimes we begin to become restless and upset. In fact, glancing through a handout which environment volunteers were given during training (Environment Sector: PCV Stories) I was astounded at how many times volunteers complained about "African time." One volunteer remarked that "once the groups were formed, I still had trouble - they wouldn't come to meetings or be very late" and another made the rather off-color comment that "the women always have an excuse [to not come to meetings on time]" while yet another complained that "as much as you are told about African time it still frustrates me to no end" and that it is "difficult to…. have people come remotely on time." It is certainly obvious that "African time" is the "thorn in the side" of many volunteers, who imagine that they can't accomplish anything within the tempo-spatial framework their community has provided them with.
When I first arrived at my site, I threatened to begin boycotting meetings - and indeed at times did - so I could focus my time and energy on things which were more effective, such as teaching at the JSS or visiting farms. I was simply sick of showing up at a meeting at 7:30 and waiting until 9:15 for three people to show up, all of whom agreed that, by this point, the meeting could serve no purpose. I would lean forward in my chair, waving a finger in the air with a rigid and stoic composure, lecturing with flashing eyes on the importance of keeping good time. Our conversations concerning time and culture became heated, and at times I would find myself in slippery arguments about how "African culture" must change if development is to pick up its pace. But then I began to realize that the concept of time in my village wasn't just something that was composed of an abstract Ghanaian notion of how mental itineraries look, but was rather something fundamental to the nature of the village. It simply isn't proper to get up and leave because you have to be somewhere at "seven sharp"; all of the eyes in the room will move to you and be framed by unsettled eye-brows and disapproving frowns. "Kwadjo Aseda, relax, we said we would be there from seven going." As visitors in our villages, we have to understand what we are capable and un-capable of doing, and changing our villages' culture to one more suited to Los Angeles than Ho isn't one of them - even though, without a doubt, cultural exchanges of a powerful nature will (and, by nature, must) occur.
Another foreign element of time in our villages is its intermingling with the space between departure and arrival. When someone in my village has finished their fufu and groundnut soup, bathed, and is ready to depart for the group meeting someone may stop them on the way and have a word with them about some important issue. Perhaps the person may be invited to sit at the person's house so that they can discuss the matter in more detail. In my village, it would be considered terribly rude to go darting by someone's house while someone was calling you, pointing at your watch and announcing that you will come "at a later time." Such cues may be acceptable in New York City or Dallas, but they certainly aren't acceptable here. Again, there are certain things that we can and cannot change, and one of them certainly isn't (nor should it be) the way greetings and schedules are culturally constructed in our villages. We would be offended if we worked with a Ghanaian in the States and they showed up to work half-an-hour late because they had to speak with a relative on the way, but we definitely wouldn't go about meddling with our cultural foundations to accommodate for such differences. Nor should we expect the people we are working with to completely accommodate for our cultural conceptions of time and space.
In fact, concepts of time and space are deeply imbedded cultural notions that don't simply disappear over the course of two years. And here I am talking about our conceptions of time and space. As Americans, time is something sacred to us; it provides order in an otherwise disorganized and chaotic world. This is not at all implying that our sites are disorganized and chaotic worlds, but rather it is suggesting that they are organized and concrete worlds. Our dilemma is that they aren't our organized and concrete worlds. Slightly wrinkled jeans - which might be perfectly fashionable in a St. Louis mall - will draw gasps and sighs and other gestures of disapproval while you are walking through your regional capital. Trying to stand in line at Ghana Commercial Bank will become a three-hour project. Getting upset at your group members for being thirty minutes late will give you a bad name and an ambiguous role. These are all examples of conflicts between cultural conceptions of order and disorder, clean and unclean, sacred and profane.
Of course, there are ways of adapting to this dilemma which don't involve complete cultural submission or behavior change (which would undoubtedly cause us problems upon our return to the United States). I imagine it would be rather unhealthy to be stuck between two organized and disorganized worlds, wearing ironed jeans at 5:30 A.M rushing to the front of the line at the Bank of America in your hometown. One way of adapting to the dilemma is to establish networks of signals which operate to situate you where you are supposed to be at what time. If a meeting is to begin at 7, tell the most punctual (in your opinion, of course) person in your group to meet you at their house on the way to the meeting. Once you get to the meeting (or communal labor or whatever you have planned), you will see that the members who have planned on coming are either there or soon-arriving. Once there, you can make the best of the time you have. There is no use waiting at your nursery, cutlass in hand, at 6:00 A.M waiting for you group members to show up, when you know very well that "six sharp" means "from six going." There simply isn't any sense (or, in Twi, "adwene bia nim") in behaving that way.
Douglas Joseph La Rose
Peace Corps Ghana, September 2005 - December 2007
douglas_larose@yahoo.com
The measurement and management of time is one of the fundamental realms that cultures have dominion over. The construction of cycles is partly determined by our environment and partly determined by our explosive imaginations. Because of this, cultural conceptions of time are unclassifiable, porous, and inevitably in a state of flux. Yet in order to bring order to our universe(s), we are forced to comply with our societies' definition of seasons, hours, days, elections, revolutions, etc. This is one of the major challenges we have when we cross cultural borders outside of our countries or even within our countries. Often our insistence upon our way of perceiving the world leads to intolerance, disagreement, and social tension. As I mark my one year anniversary of living in Ghana - and just one month shy of my first year in Guaman - I have come to appreciate the power of these constructions in both positive and negative terms.
As an American, I feel that impatience and punctuality are part of my birthright. When a meeting is supposed to start at 7:15 I try to arrive by 7:00. When a package is supposed to arrive in seven to ten days I expect it in five. In Ghana this is anything but the case. If the community is holding some kind of ceremony the invitation will state that it will start at 7:00 "prompt" but in actuality it will start at 10:30 to 11:00. If someone is supposed to give you back something you lone them "tomorrow," then you should expect to get it within the month. For almost the full first year this frustrated me to no end, but little by little I began to understand the reason for it. Because of uncertainties like the weather, the availability of food, the reliability of transportation and even the amount of people you need to meet and greet on the way somewhere, you can really only hold an extremely tentative idea of what time an event is going to begin. It is easy to see why this might seem inefficient and even irresponsible when you are first exposed to it, but after a year or so it starts to make sense. (I pasted a copy of an article I wrote for the Peace Corps' Newsletter to the end of this email entitled "African Time," which was published five or so months ago.)
One year later I have also experienced the first natural environmental cycle in seasons since I arrived. We are now entering the "dry season" - one of two seasons in Ghana including the "wet season." To be honest, it seems that the only difference between these two seasons is the length and intensity of the storms. In the dry season, there are a few very intense thunder and lightning storms every week; during the wet season there are a few smaller lightning-less storms everyday. A few other things you notice are the types of insects and animals that inhabit the environment around you. The big hairy spiders, bird-sized moths, and hornets that I remember in my first days here are now back; the leaf-and-twig mimicking bugs that became part of my houses' decoration from May through September seem to have all vanished to their breeding grounds.
I am in the process of making some pretty serious decisions about my Peace Corps service. Now that I have been here for one year, I realize just how short one year is. I am currently debating whether or not I should experience three "cycles" of life in Ghana. In other words, I am thinking of extending my service for one year. That means I wouldn't come home until January of 2009. The perk to all of this is that in December of 2007 Peace Corps will pay for me to come home for one month. I know that the extra year of service would greatly enhance the projects I have been working on. Anyhow, we will have to wait and see what happens.
I also thought I'd let you know how the scholarship fund is going. Safowa has been going to school now for about three weeks, and I am happy to inform you that she is doing well and enjoying it very much. The $120 spent this term covers her admissions, school fees, school uniform, and hostel fees. It seems that the total cost per year will be about $350 to $360. The Women's Association for Children's Welfare has also used part of the funds (roughly $50, or 500,000 cedis) generated for Safowa to help another student by the name of Salomey Dongbe to start her classes. Hopefully we will be able to get more assistance in the future to expand and continue this program. That kind of money isn't easy to come by in Ghana, so more contributions will help the program to stay alive. Again, Safowa, Salomey, and Guaman warmly thank everyone who contributed to the scholarship fund. Thank you so much.
I've let this message go on for to long, so I'll stop here and let you know how the environment aspect of my service is going in the next email. I'm thinking of all of you and hoping that your horizons are drenched in sunlight. Oh yes, and please give the Neoconservatives a good ass-kicking come November 7th.
Love,
Douglas
________________________________________________________________________
From the May 2006 Peace Corps Newsletter:
"African Time"
by Douglas J. La Rose
A common frustration among volunteers is dealing with "African time." We often find ourselves glancing back and forth from our watches to our Newsweek waiting for half of our group members to arrive to a meeting. Sometimes we wait in vain; sometimes they show up; sometimes we begin to become restless and upset. In fact, glancing through a handout which environment volunteers were given during training (Environment Sector: PCV Stories) I was astounded at how many times volunteers complained about "African time." One volunteer remarked that "once the groups were formed, I still had trouble - they wouldn't come to meetings or be very late" and another made the rather off-color comment that "the women always have an excuse [to not come to meetings on time]" while yet another complained that "as much as you are told about African time it still frustrates me to no end" and that it is "difficult to…. have people come remotely on time." It is certainly obvious that "African time" is the "thorn in the side" of many volunteers, who imagine that they can't accomplish anything within the tempo-spatial framework their community has provided them with.
When I first arrived at my site, I threatened to begin boycotting meetings - and indeed at times did - so I could focus my time and energy on things which were more effective, such as teaching at the JSS or visiting farms. I was simply sick of showing up at a meeting at 7:30 and waiting until 9:15 for three people to show up, all of whom agreed that, by this point, the meeting could serve no purpose. I would lean forward in my chair, waving a finger in the air with a rigid and stoic composure, lecturing with flashing eyes on the importance of keeping good time. Our conversations concerning time and culture became heated, and at times I would find myself in slippery arguments about how "African culture" must change if development is to pick up its pace. But then I began to realize that the concept of time in my village wasn't just something that was composed of an abstract Ghanaian notion of how mental itineraries look, but was rather something fundamental to the nature of the village. It simply isn't proper to get up and leave because you have to be somewhere at "seven sharp"; all of the eyes in the room will move to you and be framed by unsettled eye-brows and disapproving frowns. "Kwadjo Aseda, relax, we said we would be there from seven going." As visitors in our villages, we have to understand what we are capable and un-capable of doing, and changing our villages' culture to one more suited to Los Angeles than Ho isn't one of them - even though, without a doubt, cultural exchanges of a powerful nature will (and, by nature, must) occur.
Another foreign element of time in our villages is its intermingling with the space between departure and arrival. When someone in my village has finished their fufu and groundnut soup, bathed, and is ready to depart for the group meeting someone may stop them on the way and have a word with them about some important issue. Perhaps the person may be invited to sit at the person's house so that they can discuss the matter in more detail. In my village, it would be considered terribly rude to go darting by someone's house while someone was calling you, pointing at your watch and announcing that you will come "at a later time." Such cues may be acceptable in New York City or Dallas, but they certainly aren't acceptable here. Again, there are certain things that we can and cannot change, and one of them certainly isn't (nor should it be) the way greetings and schedules are culturally constructed in our villages. We would be offended if we worked with a Ghanaian in the States and they showed up to work half-an-hour late because they had to speak with a relative on the way, but we definitely wouldn't go about meddling with our cultural foundations to accommodate for such differences. Nor should we expect the people we are working with to completely accommodate for our cultural conceptions of time and space.
In fact, concepts of time and space are deeply imbedded cultural notions that don't simply disappear over the course of two years. And here I am talking about our conceptions of time and space. As Americans, time is something sacred to us; it provides order in an otherwise disorganized and chaotic world. This is not at all implying that our sites are disorganized and chaotic worlds, but rather it is suggesting that they are organized and concrete worlds. Our dilemma is that they aren't our organized and concrete worlds. Slightly wrinkled jeans - which might be perfectly fashionable in a St. Louis mall - will draw gasps and sighs and other gestures of disapproval while you are walking through your regional capital. Trying to stand in line at Ghana Commercial Bank will become a three-hour project. Getting upset at your group members for being thirty minutes late will give you a bad name and an ambiguous role. These are all examples of conflicts between cultural conceptions of order and disorder, clean and unclean, sacred and profane.
Of course, there are ways of adapting to this dilemma which don't involve complete cultural submission or behavior change (which would undoubtedly cause us problems upon our return to the United States). I imagine it would be rather unhealthy to be stuck between two organized and disorganized worlds, wearing ironed jeans at 5:30 A.M rushing to the front of the line at the Bank of America in your hometown. One way of adapting to the dilemma is to establish networks of signals which operate to situate you where you are supposed to be at what time. If a meeting is to begin at 7, tell the most punctual (in your opinion, of course) person in your group to meet you at their house on the way to the meeting. Once you get to the meeting (or communal labor or whatever you have planned), you will see that the members who have planned on coming are either there or soon-arriving. Once there, you can make the best of the time you have. There is no use waiting at your nursery, cutlass in hand, at 6:00 A.M waiting for you group members to show up, when you know very well that "six sharp" means "from six going." There simply isn't any sense (or, in Twi, "adwene bia nim") in behaving that way.
Douglas Joseph La Rose
Peace Corps Ghana, September 2005 - December 2007
douglas_larose@yahoo.com