Beware the Gong Gong Beater

Beware the Gong Gong Beater
Drummers here are called gong gong beaters. They are present at all the funerals, at the market, and occasionally just randomly. They also make community announcements, which is handy if you’re a Peace Corps Volunteer who has an event you want people to attend.
It’s important to know that when a gong gong beater makes eye contact with you, you are expected to give them a small amount of money. I found this out at a funeral. I was out walking around the village, which is what I spend most of my time here doing. I heard the drums, gunshots, and other loud noises that mean there is a funeral, so I went to greet the house of the funeral. A gong gong beater spotted me and I looked away and kept on walking, and he followed me. I thought that was kind of weird. Then I was cornered against a building with him and one other gong gong beater blocking my way out. I had no idea what was happening, until a lady close by said “Money. Give them money.” Of course, I didn’t have any money with me because I hadn’t planned on needing any. Finally I managed to explain this to the gong gong beaters, who let me pass. I later found out that you are supposed to give money any time you see a gong gong beater playing. Lessons learned: 1. Always carry money 2. Avoid gong gong beaters unless you need them to make an announcement for you

Thanksgiving Highlights
I had the opportunity to go to the ambassador’s residence for Thanksgiving dinner. This entailed a long journey to Accra, but the Peace Corps office arranged for us to stay with various people working for the embassy and USAID. I stayed with a really nice couple from New York. They fed me wine and spaghetti and let me watch American t.v. The house was air conditioned and they had a warm shower too! Amazing!
Dinner at the Ambassador’s house was also very nice. The best part was seeing some volunteers that I haven’t seen since training. Afterwards we went to Champ’s, a sports bar in Accra. I also went to a shopping mall, and discovered that shopping malls are not a part of American culture that I miss, even a little bit. The whole time I was at the mall I was thinking about how much I wanted to greet my onion seller.
The journey to Accra was uneventful until the very end, when traffic was stopped so that some workers could use dynamite- I think we were passing a rock quarry, but I’m not sure. Everyone got off the bus to play with a football that my friend Beth had brought, and then there was mass chaos as traffic started moving again and everyone re-boarded the moving bus. Luckily traffic was still slow when it started back up. The trip back was on a Muslim holiday, and the lorry station was packed with people trying to get to Kumasi, including me. I paid way too much for a ticket after throwing elbows and getting some smashed toes to get through the crowd to the bus. But it ended up being air conditioned and the seats weren’t smashed together, so I guess it was worth the extra money. They had a church service on the bus, which I haven’t seen before. I was vaguely amused until they tried to take a collection. I pretended to be asleep. Probably not the noblest response, but I didn’t want to go to church. I just wanted to go to Kumasi.