Death in the family

A shop owner in Nkurakan who we have been working to cultivate as a potential agent rented some batteries a couple weeks ago. He was going to give them to a couple of his steady battery customers and let them try them out, then get back to us to schedule agent training and get started. When more than a week had passed (nearly two) with no word, we finally saw him on one of our trips through his town. He apologized for the long silence and explained that there had been a death in his family and it had taken him away for several days.

This really got me thinking. I've only been here six weeks and it seems like everyone I know here has had a death in the family in that time (probably an exaggeration, but it feels that way). My immediate thought was, "Wow, they sure have a lot more death here than we have back home." After thinking about it, though, I realized I was wrong.

It's not that there is more death here, it's that there is a lot more family.

I mean that not just in the sense that families are larger (4-ish births per woman), but that the definition of family is much more broad. While in the heart of the big cities, the western definition of the nuclear family may be gaining some traction (for good or ill), here in Koforidua and all of rural Ghana, the extended family is alive and well. Cousins or even close family friends may call one another, "my brother" or "my sister", old men call the children of their nieces and nephews, "my grandson" or "my granddaughter". It can be very confusing for a foreigner used to fairly strict (western) usage of these terms.

So, in this extended definition of family, there is simply a greater probability of experiencing a death - and every passing is deeply felt. Ghanaian funerals are a very big deal. Everyone has a black funeral outfit (suit, robe, dress, etc.) and every funeral is an event, often with a band or at least a sound system, drinking, dancing, sometimes even memorial t-shirts, and almost always, wailing. That's right, wailing. It seems in America we value holding our pain on the inside and being "strong" for others in the face of adversity. Not so, in Ghana. Every bit of grief and anguish that is felt on the inside is let out in a profound and audible way. And why not? I know I experienced, at the death of my grandmother, precisely the emotions that I have seen outwardly expressed here in Ghana. You know what I mean?

So, all this thought is not entirely about our potential agent in Nkurakan. I've been thinking a lot about family and death this week because, I'm sorry to say, my sister (back home), Denise (left, with her partner, Sharon), died a week ago. So far, I've been a good American and only wept when I really wanted to wail. I really will try to be a good Ghanaian and sing and dance and drink to celebrate her life - just as soon as I can hurdle my internal culture barrier.
XO