obruni = money

Ghana works in extremes. If I could think better on my feet, I could give you a million examples of this, but this is the only story I can think of now.

Last Tuesday, Yamit, Rivky, and I were on our way back from Shoprite. We were waiting for a tro-tro for about 20 minutes, and we were getting antsy. A cab that already had three people was waiting for one more person. We decided to split up because it would probably be easier and quicker for us all to get back that way. Rivky had no money, so I pulled out my wallet, handed her 50 peswas (about 75 cents), and put my wallet back in my bag. As Rivky was getting into the cab, a random guy near us started yelling at Yamit, saying that Rivky shouldn’t get in. Then the cab driver started yelling at us not to trust this guy because he was a criminal. A second later, a nearly empty tro-tro pulls up. Rivky jumps out of the cab and says to us, “Let’s go. I’m not getting in the middle of this.” As the three of us try to squish onto the tro-tro, I look back at Rivky and say, “Keep an eye on my bag.” She kept her hand on it until we got inside. But it was too late. Before I said anything, the “criminal” had already taken my wallet. He had seen exactly where I put it back after I gave Rivky the 50 peswas, and he squished into the crowd as if he were trying to get onto the tro-tro. I noticed the second I got in, but there was nothing I could do. He was already gone. There was 20 cedis (about $30), my UGhana ID, my expired drivers license, my debit card, my credit card, pictures, a mincha/maariv booklet, and a few other insignificant things. I immediately called my mom, who immediately cancelled the cards.

I was really really upset. It wasn’t about the cash or the wallet or its contents. It was about being stolen from, specifically in Ghana. Almost all of the Americans on our program have already been stolen from, a blackberry, a laptop, a wallet, etc. It just leaves a sour taste towards Ghana. It associates Ghana with stealing. It just makes me feel more like it’s Ghana vs. the obrunis. No one is on our side. They don’t want us here. They’re all racist. They look at me, and they see money. I’m not a person; I’m a checkbook. I hate it. I can’t stand being referred to by my skin color, and I can’t stand being labeled.

(Side note: Rivky’s wallet was stolen out of her bag in the post office a few weeks before we went to Israel. She also called my mom right away, and the cards were cancelled. Luckily enough, my mom was able to send a new debit card with Rivky’s friend to Israel. For the few weeks in between, I would just take out money for the two of us and keep track of who was spending what. Now we’re going to do the same thing, but now with her money. When Rivky’s wallet was stolen, she also lost her UGhana ID, which we need for finals, which started today. We went last Monday to the registry, and they told us to come back Wednesday at 9am. That’s the only time they do IDs. It was the following day, Tuesday, that my wallet was stolen. Wednesday we both got new IDs, 10 cedis each.)

THEN! Just now, a girl on our program was sitting with us in our common room and was like, “Oh, Zahava, this is yours. A guy at the airport gave it to Bri,” (another girl on our program). She pulled out all the contents of my wallet, sans the wallet itself or the cash, and put it on the table. The truth is that nothing in the wallet is of any worth. I already got a new ID, the license is expired, and the rest is limitedly important.

This is the other extreme of Ghana. Yes, I am “Obruni” (“white person”). I am a walking checkbook to many. But to many it doesn’t matter. There is a genuine kindness to this culture. People walk us half an hour out of their way to make sure that we get somewhere safely. I am not surprised that somebody was walking around with the contents of my wallet, waiting to meet an obruni who knew a Zahava. It restores my faith in Ghana. It reminds me that for all the bad, there is so much good. There is so much sincerity.