More on God in Ghana

Solomon called me four times the next morning before I finally decided to answer.

He wanted to know how I was feeling, if I felt different from the day before. I said I never know how I feel before my morning coffee. He said he will call back tomorrow and see if I feel different then.

Text messages between David and I:

Me: WARNING! Solomon is about to call you to see how you feel today. Perhaps to see if the Holy Spirit visited you in your sleep.

David: Thanks. I have a bit of a headache. Maybe a side effect of the Holy Spirit.

Me: What else could it be! Oh wait! You aren’t allergic to cheap vegetable oil are you? You did rub quite a bit on your head.

David: I squeezed my hair and deep fried a plantain. Resourceful!

Me: So I guess that means you ate the Holy Spirit? It is in you.

David: Should have a stomach ache not a head ache.

That morning I went to my local breakfast spot for more of Abigail’s sweet porridge and Nescafe with canned condensed milk. I love that in Accra I have a local where the woman knows my name, how I like my coffee and what I eat every morning. I love that she sits down beside me for a chat when there is no one else to serve. I love the broken picnic chairs, and generally get quite upset when I find someone else in MY chair. But not as upset as I get when a customer comes and Abigail has to leave me to do work. Abigail makes me nervous, and I am not exactly sure why.  I get nervous that I ask the wrong questions, like when I asked if she has children and I am sure that when she said no I detected a flash of sadness in her eyes. I have developed a habit of playing down my life of relative luxury and ease, almost to the extent of lying – I just can’t shake that privileged guilt. Either that or I don’t want my new friend to think we are that different from each other… though in reality I suppose we are. David later said that he nearly told her I date women and I nearly had a heart attack! I could never go back if he had. I would have lost my local, and my only Ghanaian friend.

This particular morning I bought the newspaper. The front page story read ‘Woman Turns Snake After Sex’. A fascinating read! This woman had gone to a hotel to have casual sex with a man, the next day she was seen by the hotel staff leaving with scales and a tail. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this article wasn’t particularly well researched. However the moral of the tale was loud and clear! 

God infiltrates every aspect of life here. Every shop and chop bar is named after something religious, for example: ‘God Loves Electrical s’ and ‘When God Says Yes No One Can Say No Fashion’. Billboards line the main roads with images of cheesy suited-up pastors smiling in front of orange flames. The only time I ever see a local reading it is always the bible (the only other books I see for sale are self-help books). 

One night David and I were walking in town and we passed a crowd gathered around a film screen.  The film was showing images of Beyonce and declaring that she is the Devil. It went through interviews, images, her songs and film clips and explained how each part is proof of her Demon possession.  Apparently she dances like a snake, conveys secret messages in her songs and tries to take over your mind.

People watched in fascination, I watched in great amusement.

We left just before the film went on to deconstruct Michael Jackson’s relationship with Satan.

I am not at all religious, but very interested in it. People in Accra often ask if I am Muslim or Christian, I say Christian because the few times I tried to explain what it means to be agnostic they simply didn’t understand. To not believe in anything is plain and simply incomprehensible.  Religion has and continues to play an important part in my trip, from my church readings in the village I stayed at in Ghana, to the Voodoo chief I saw in Benin, to the Mosque in Addis Ababa (all of which I will go on to tell you about later). It is undeniably a huge part of African culture, by ignoring religion I wouldn’t see the heart of Africa.