Jazz, Salsa, Swimming

Last Wednesday, 18 September, a bunch of us went to +233, a jazz club.  It was a lot of fun just sitting around talking to friends and listening to the great live music. This night it wasn’t quite jazzy, but still enjoyable.  Funnily, there were probably about 40 international students there, 2 long tables worth.  Towards the end, we made our way inside to dance in front of the band and to sing happy birthday to two girls. 

This Wendnesday, 25 September, I went to Afrikiko with a bunch of ISH kids.  It’s pretty much a courtyard with tables, chairs, and a small raised dance floor surrounded by a few restaurants and things.  We went for the salsa music and I learned two things: it’s ridiculously fun and I know nothing at all about salsa. 

Tomorrow, Saturday the 28^th, I’m going to swim with a friend’s club team. An actual swim practice? What’s that? We were supposed to have Open Championships a week ago, which I’m equivocating to unofficial tryouts, but the workers were on strike, are still on strike, and so a few lecture rooms are locked, secretaries aren’t at work, and the gym and pool are closed. Any games and matches on campus that are usually reffed by UG people haven’t been because the workers are on strike. It’s just plain annoying.  Next week there was supposed to be a meet in Nigeria, but I highly doubt that’s going to happen. Last I heard, they were still on strike as well. And well, those are the only swim competitions this semester, so that really stinks.  I was looking forward to travelling to compete, but this is swimming in Africa, not football.  When I told my friend Championships were cancelled, he said, “Wait…did you actually think it was going to happen?? Sorry, but this is Ghana. Nothing ever happens like it’s supposed to.” Well, you know I did think it would. Silly me.

On a brighter and unrelated note, I’m spending a week in London at the end of the semester.  Then, for maybe threeish days afterwards, doing some travelling with one of my best friends. Fantastic, you say? Yeah, it kinda is. :)

Caning at MOP

Perhaps this is the side effect of growing up in a home where violence was never the answer and none of us were ever beaten, but talking seems like it would gain more respect than physical punishment.  If we want kids to use words to solve a problem, how is a beating going to serve as any kind of example?  This Wednesday, I witnessed my first caning.  Two or three boys in first grade, I think, were sent to Sir Austin to be caned.  The punishment is 10 lashings. For everyone.  So even when the boy stands there with his hands in his pockets, tears streaming down his face, and nose running half way through, he still has 5 more lashes to take.  The school is outside and everyone can hear and see everything, so not only is there physical pain, but the public humiliation that your classmates have no problem giving.  Half the students are craning their necks around the white boards, smiling at the victim’s pain.  Not that the last is unique to Ghana; all kids/people tend to laugh at others’ pain or expense. It’s just not something that’s done at home anymore.  Is the principle allowed to administer paddlings anymore, or only with express written permission? It used to be the other way around.  Here, teachers can slap a student’s hand or the back of their head as a quick reprimand. It’s just a whole new world.

Mawuvio’s Outreach Programme [Affectionately known as MOP]

Renee, one of the co-directors, explained this to me one afternoon: In Ghana, education is supposed to be free and compulsory for children through age 18, I believe.  The government says “free education” and literally means the education/knowledge itself is what’s free.  After that, there are multiple fees to make ends meet which add up.  The government does not provide funds for basic teaching supplies, like paper.  When a teacher wants to give a test, not only is the student renting the desk they’re sitting at, they are also paying for the paper the test is printed on.  Many families, and especially in Mawuvio’s neighborhood, might be able to afford the first two terms, but not the third, so many students have gone to the first half of a grade when they come to MOP.  Appearance is incredibly important in Ghana. If a student is not wearing the proper uniform, perhaps wearing sandals or flip-flops which sometimes aren’t allowed, or dirty, they can be sent home for the day. If they can’t afford the school fees, they aren’t admitted for the term.

Mawuvio’s Outreach Programme began about 5 years ago.  It provides truly free education to its students and one meal a day.  Many of the students don’t have a mom, dad, or neither.  One of my level 2 girls is 13, lives with her grandma, and is raising a set of 1 ½ year old twins. And you thought you had a hard day? Yeah, same here, nevermind.  In the early days, they didn’t have uniforms, and because it was not yet recognized as a school, it was come as you are and when you want.  The students actually voted to have uniforms so they would be more legitimate.  Every school has uniforms, MOP’s are blue and khaki, a nearby school has orange and brown uniforms, another down the road has green plaid.  English and Math are taught every morning and the afternoon rotates between a few different subjects.  They currently have about 59 students, 7 classes, and 4 or 5 full time teachers.

I first visited Mawuvio’s on Friday, 13 September with Susan, one of our program coordinators.  My first day at Mawuviou’s was the following Wednesday, 18 September. I mentioned to Renee that I’ve never taught before, have only been a swim coach and helped with VBS one week one summer.  So I’ve been around kids, but that’s the extent of it. As a result, I thought a teacher’s aide would be better than being in charge of an entire class. On my first day, one of the teachers had just resigned for a better post and another was out sick.  I taught the latter’s class, Level 5.  The students call you either Sir or Madam.  Sir Austin, who teaches Level 4, had been covering Level 5 for the day, as well.  He showed me the book they were going to use for science. “We’re talking about parts of a flower today. Why don’t you interact with them a bit and get to know them.  I’ll check on you in a few minutes.” We did introductions and began.  Renee came by at one point said it looked like we were doing alright and went on.  Sir Austin never came back.  Thankfully, the students are between 14 and 17 years and were pretty calm.  “Does the teacher read from the book and you take notes?” I asked.  “Well, he writes on the board and we copy in our notebooks,” they told me. I remembered seeing the other teachers doing this and so we defined and labeled parts of a flower.  Day 1: terrifying and complete. 

I came back the next day and taught Level 2.  There were about 12 kids who were more lively than Level 5.  This time we did Religious and Moral Ethics.  It’s a bit different than in the States.  Christianity, Islam, and Traditionalism are the most common religious practices.  Basically, the general ideas of each are covered and we talk about good character and making good choices.  Sir Steady started off the class for me.  Teaching is different as well.  There’s a lot of repetition and, at this level, not as much writing. 

Friday brought a different routine.  For about the first two hours MOP has its version of church/worship.  Kwame, the other co-director, opens with a speech saying good morning and such, then one of the directors gives a sermon, then praise and worship led by Madam Lawrenda, and then warfare.  The last is the kids’ favorite.  Even though Christianity and Islam are the most common practices, many people still hold more traditional beliefs and revert to them in times of need and trouble.  Here, there is a bigger emphasis on the devil and not being evil or wicked versus being saved, redemption, and perhaps the “prettier” version of religion. Traditional beliefs include that if you wish someone ill, you can have a spell cast which might be evidenced by a dream in which you are chased by an arrow or lion.  Warfare is something you just have to experience, but includes a lot of cheering, shouting, stomping, and is louder than the worship songs, if that’s even possible.  

Kumasi: Football, Villages, & Palace Museum

Three weeks, I went to Kumasi with ISEP.  We actually moved the trip up a few weeks to coincide with the Ghana vs. Zambia soccer game.  Drove north Friday morning about 5 hours.  The roads varied from pretty well paved with some bumps to completely dirt, pot holed trails.  Looking out the window saw many different scenes: incredibly tall coconut trees, not far off mountains surrounded by fog and clouds, and patches of squash, corn, and lettuce which, if you looked closely, you could see were planted in rows. 

[bumpy road]

[some parts of the road paved, others just dirt, and it wasn't pretty where they meet. shoulder!]

[lunch on the way to Kumasi! jollof rice, fish, chicken, fried plantains, and shito sauce. I'm starving; this looks really good right now!]

We got to the stadium 2 hours early to get decent seats; it was already half filled when we got there!  Massive groups of people wore the same colored shirt or jersey.  Later some of these groups held a massive banner across their group and you could see they were advertising some brand or product.  Food was about the same price as on the streets.  Before the game and during half time, vendors walked around with plexiglass containers of FanIce, containers of cold drinks, jerseys, and cloths to shield you from the sun.  During half time, a young girl, she looked about 12-14yrs, came a few rows in front of me.  Her container/massive bowl had just been filled with 1.5L bottles of water, as she struggled under its weight and could barely hand the items over without losing her balance.  However, as soon as either half began, all the vendors left.  The Ghanaians take their football seriously and have no qualms about yelling at those in front of them for blocking the view.  Everyone sits and stands almost simultaneously.  Of course, the Ghana Black Stars were awesome! It was my first time at a soccer game more important than a U14 boys match (thanks Will). Thankfully, Ghana beat Zambia 2-0.  As we headed for the bus after the match, the crowds were thick and loud.  I would’ve hated to go through them if we’d lost and all the fans were angry. 

[ticket!]

[stilt walkers coming around for pre-game entertainment]

[Black Stars warming up!]

[2-1, we win!]

[it was so hot, but it cooled off towards the end and the sky was gorgeous]

[couldn't make up my mind. the sky is pretty here too.]

Saturday was spent going through a few villages (of course, I forgot all the names) and visiting the largest market in West Africa.  First, we went to a village where they wove Kente cloth, the cloth unique to Ghana and worn at important events like funerals, weddings, and ceremonies. It’s incredibly nice and is priced at about GH¢ 40/yd. vs. the average GH¢ 5 or 10/yd. fabric you can find on the street or in stores.  This was also the first time I really had to bargain. I learned after the first strip I bought. [You could get strips instead of a full yard which were cheaper and about GH¢ 10.] I paid 14 for the first strip, and was able to get the rest for 9-11.  Even though I probably should have gotten them for less…I felt like I was on top of the world when we left. Not gonna lie. I felt like the best bargainer ever. :D

At the next village, we learned about adinkra symbols and saw tons of this gorgeous stamped cloth.  There are maybe 20-30 different symbols that all hold different meanings.  One of the most popular is “except God,” or "God is King," no one but God.  Since we were in a tour, they had a table set up so you could choose a strip of kente cloth, choose your symbol/s, and stamp your own cloth.  There were piles of cloth along the front of the table. As you were looking at a pile, the weaver came up and started talking to you, pulling out the ones you touched so you could see them fully, and hopefully choose their product.  I chose from a tall, skinny guy with a chipped front tooth and the front of his hair bleached.  Of course, after we stamped the strip, I felt compelled to look at his rack of products.  Obama is quite big here, Americans may be referred to as “Obama’s children,” and there were even strips stamped with large Obama faces.  As I walked away, promising to come back and looks some more, and they watch you as you look around in case you actually do decide to come back, a kid came up with 2 strips of kente cloth folded up in a white plastic bag.  “I’ll give it to you for GH¢ 10,” he said.  GH¢ 10 and no bargaining?? “Alright.”  As he walked away, Anderson looked at me with this look of, “Ah! Sistah!” I smiled and walked off, though I did come back and buy from him again later on.  Once I got on the bus, I started to wonder why the 2 strips had been so cheap. Pulling them out, you could see some light red stains, probably from the clay dirt.  It stains everything.  [For example, I thought my pants were made with stained cloth and then I realized they were just dirty from the dust.] Still they were sparkly and I quite happy with them. 

[adinkra stamps]

[Anderson's racks]

[kids and loom]

After this, we went to Kumasi’s Cultural Center where we ate lunch and poked around the shops.  Fufu, basically a ball of dough made from cassava, and maybe plantain, is the area’s specialty and so we all tried it.  It was actually pretty good, there was a lot and I wasn’t able to finish; it was pretty spicy, too. Granted, when I mentioned this, Amber reached over to try some, “Nope…this is about the same as mine.” So I’m just a bit of a wimp, oops.  The shops were a lot of fun.  Although the prices were a bit higher than you’d find in the market, it was such a nice change to be able to look at things without someone hovering or pestering you to buy.  One shop had random things including some nice leather bags, one of which I almost bought, and 3 yards of this awesome purple batik for 21.  And did I buy it? Nope.  Am I ninny? Why yes, yes I am because, when I came back around to buy it, the shop was closed.

[towards the back, there was a huge pavilion/covered open space where the pottery and ceramics were made. this is their kiln.]

The third village was a wood carving village.  This was so. much. fun. I got some beads and figurines.  One of the vendors was really cool.  I saw a figure that had two elephants and between them a seprewa. He’d mentioned that he played drums with his brother, and I pointed to it, “Oh, seprewa!” “Yes,” he said. “I’m learning how to play.” “You?!” his tone more than just a bit surprised. “Yeah!” “Alright, sistah!” at which point he gave me a fantastic handshake-with-snap.  When we left, I wish I bought it.  Perhaps I’ll find another one like it.  Most likely.  If you see it one place, you can find it not only in ten other places, but in the stall that’s literally right next door. 

After this, we went to the largest market in West Africa.  Of course, we were behind schedule and we got there about 5 or 6.  Sunset is about 6:00 and everything was already closing, but it was fun walking around the tiny section we were in. 

[Catholic church where we parked. the yellow bus is not ours. we're not that cool]

[looking up the street we walked down. note: church in back, guy pointing, and his pile of shoes for sale]

[turned around, looking down the street we walked down. so many people and this isn't even that bad]

When we got back to the hotel, there were two artists selling their paintings.  While they’re gorgeous and I bought a few, some of us discussed whether the vendors actually paint them or if they get the work from some distributer because the styles are all so similar. [Also, the paintings I bought from the same guy have different signatures. So, unless they’re selling each other’s work and not just their own, which doesn’t make much sense, a distributor is at least logical.] 

Also. Let’s talk about dinner Saturday night real quick, because that was exciting.  They set up a buffet for our group which included pizza and french fries in addition to the regular rice and chicken.  That was exciting.  Then, as we were sitting around thinking about greasy American food, they brought out strawberry fan ice in little glass dishes.  Y’all. It even tasted a little like ice-cream. So exciting. 

On our way out of Kumasi, we stopped at the Palace Museum of the Asantehenes.  The tour was short and actually pretty interesting.  Fun facts:

-When the Asantehene visits he is provided with a chair, obviously.  Afterwards, it is taken back to the Museum because no one is allowed to sit in after he has. 

-The current queen mother is 112.

-Because it is a matrilineal society, the queen mother selects the next Asantehene.  This person is blindfolded and sent into the stool room which has 12 of the 14 past dead Asantehenes.  The stools take on the names of their owners/users.  If you select a stool with a name you become “So-and-so II.”  If you choose the golden stool, that of the original Asantehene and only brought out for a festival every 5 years, then you become “Your own name I.” I’m pretty sure. 

[entrance]

[statue in middle of roundabout]

So Kumasi was really cool.  And the Ghana Black Stars won! There’s another World Cup Qualifying match against Egypt in November, so that might turn into a trip. Here are some other photos that were cool. :)

[the clouds were doing crazy cool things, but you can't really tell here]

[there were so many trucks pulled over and being worked on along the way]

[trip wasn't too bad and the hair decided to cooperate :P]

[thought the stairs were so cool. you could see places in others that had massive holes or looked more like a ramp because they'd been used so much]

[there were always vendors by the road. here we have boys with coconuts]

[who says you have to buy furniture in a store? I like my swivel chairs off the street corner, thanks]

Classes, Books, Oburonis

So. Over the past few weeks, classes have finally gotten under way and a lot’s happened.  Last post, I was really excited about going salsa dancing, but that hasn’t happened yet, which is a real bummer.  However, I’ve now had all 7 of my classes, become a frequent swimmer of laps, said goodbye to some friends who’ve gone home, welcomed another back!, gone to my first professional football game, travelled to Kumasi, bargained for some things, and have gotten some clothes made!  So, here goes catching up on 2, almost 3, weeks worth of stories.   :)

I don’t know how explicitly I mentioned this in earlier posts, but just so everyone knows: classes were supposed to begin 12 August. However, the professors were on strike for book allowances and salary things.  Classes didn’t begin until the first week of September. Naturally, many of us were nervous about being sent home, whether credits would still transfer to our home institution, whether the decreased number of class hours this semester would affect how much we covered and thus leave us unprepared for final exams, what would happen regarding drop/add deadlines both here and at home, and the like.  On the other hand, it left a lot of time for travelling and adjusting to a new environment without the pressures of a classroom setting. Two girls in our program went home more or less because they didn’t want to wait for the strike to finish anymore (we’d been told for 3 weeks straight that “it’s almost done. It never goes more than a week; two max.”).  The exciting news was that Sarah, who’d gone home for medical reasons after the first week came back the same week the others left and, well, it’s all just very exciting.  :)

At home textbooks are ~$300 if I do a good job looking for the best combination of deals through Amazon and the bookstore.  Here, you don’t buy books.  Instead everyone buys copies.  It seems there are copiers in almost every department or building with workers manning them all day.  The class captain, or class rep, are given the book, excerpt, or handout that the students need copies of.  They then take these to a copier and you go at your convenience to purchase your copy.  This very well may (will) be my cheapest semester, textbook wise.  [7 Ghana cedis for a copy of Toni Morrison’s Beloved. So about $3.50. woot.] 

There aren’t a lot of oburonis, so it makes sense that in the classes we’re in, frequently there are very few of us.  The first day of my Pidgin and Creole Languages class all the oburnis sat on one side, the Ghanaians on the other. This wasn’t intentional…it just kind of happened.  What threw most of the foreigners  was  the fact that the professor lost no time in mentioning it while smiling and laughing. He thought it was sooo funny. And all I could think was, “How can you possibly think that this separation by skin color is something that is okay to laugh at?” On my way back to ISH, I ran into Amber who’d had a similar experience in a class earlier in the week.  She was one of two oburonis in the class. Both were asked to stand and introduce themselves to the class. No one else was asked to do so. She found this incredibly rude and offensive.  Who enjoys being singled out?  We talked a bit and came more or less to this conclusion/theory: “Racism is basically taboo in our culture.  We don’t talk about it because it makes people nervous and uneasy. We like to think we’re above and better than it.  But maybe it’s the way Ghanaians deal with it so they can continue with their day, alike to what my friend Kelly experienced when the students in her class laughed when poverty was being discussed. [Those who attend the university are more or less from the top %10 of Ghana’s population and come from pretty affluent backgrounds.] It’s just how they deal with one of the many ugly truths in their everyday routine.”

More to come soonish. As today is Kwame Nkrumah’s birthday, Monday is a public holiday.  Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

Pictures are Fun Too :)

Laundry! There's a laundry room on every floor and an area in the courtyard next to the clotheslines as well. Wash everything in soap/detergent (using a bar of soap for trouble spots), rinse once, rinse again, wring, and hang.  Not even kidding, the water gets gross.  It's even worse with darks and jeans bleed like crazy. 

Food! Kind of important.

[The peanut butter (or groundnut paste, as it's called on the street) didn't even last a week. so. good.]  

[Auntie Theresa (left) invited us to dinner Saturday: spaghetti, meat sauce with spicy sausage, chicken, garlic bread, salad (yay raw veggies!), and potato salad. I gorged.]

[her patio and ISEP]

[and just when we thought we couldn't eat any more...there was cake and fanice (Ghanaian ice cream)]

[avocado and tomato sandwiches. idea stolen from Amber]

[rice, lentils, tomatos, and carrots. supposed to be dinner last night, but I wasn't hungry so yay for an easy breakfast!]

[gogbe, peanuts, bread, bananas, and water]

[the bread that I bought last night was spotty this morning, so I pulled off the crust. naked bread is fun.]

[lunch the other day: gogbe, oranges, and bread]

[egg sandwiches made by Auntie Marie and her family are literally the best thing ever. egg, cheese, sausage.]

[generally what the cooking area looks like. hot plates are exciting. Honestly, who need appliances?]

[all of the stalls, taxis, and tro-tros have either something religious as their name...or whatever you call this]

The theater and drama departments at UG put on the play "Snakes and/or Ladders" at the National Theater. Though I didn't understand everything all the time, it was easy to see that they were an incredibly talented group.

 [bring me a little water...bring me a little water now, bring me a little water...every little once and a while]

After the play, a bunch of us went to Nima, a small neighborhood in Accra, to see traditional dancing and drumming. Later during the performances, we learned that this was part of the pre-funeral celebrations.  There was going to be dancing throughout the night and the funeral and services were Saturday and Sunday. We left at 1am and some of the dancers were the same ones who'd been going when we got there ~10. cuh-razy. Just before we left, they pulled all the obronis up to join in! The lady behind me was so patient telling me when to move and how to step, but it was so much fun!  There are pictures and video. I'm hoping to get them from a friend and put some up soon! :)

[walking into the courtyard/neighborhood square]

[drummers and dancers, and man once they got going, the air was visibly hazy from all the dust] 

[drummers and right view of courtyard]

Who Knew I'd Find This in Ghana??

Really, I suppose it should be “Who Knew I’d Find These Things in Ghana??” as there are multiple items on the list.  But it’s written in stone and can’t be undone (I like the original title better). [In other news, today is Wednesday which means I get my first skirt and we’re going salsa dancing!]

Travel Bug

When I was little (8 and had just been to Ireland with Nana and Tata) I always included travelling on my list of hobbies/ things I enjoyed on those awful first day of school get-to-know-you sheets.  Of course, I’ve never made time for 3am Team Donut runs, am too realistic when it comes to choosing between homework/obligations and going for a Saturday hike, don’t go out of my way to explore and sit in the house both when we visit Tucson and at home, and am in general pretty lame.  Closest I’ve been recently (pre-Ghana) was when I drove up to Oklahoma by myself this summer.  “Wow. Real adventurous, Kaia,” you mutter. It’s getting better. Promise.  Here’s the thing. While sitting in the ISEP office the other day and reading the advice books from previous students, I noticed that I was imagining walking down streets (which were oddly European in my head) and finding these places.  I wanted to leave at 7:30-8am, get on a tro-tro and just go, either on my own or with one other. I skyped my swim team Sunday night and just felt great. Kelly was there and after talking to her and reading her blog…I have to go to Benin, Togo, and Burkina Faso. It’s not really an option. I live in Arkansas. It’s the Natural State for a reason, and yet I’ve been to few of the parks and lakes.  I think that’s something I want to change when I’m home next semester.  Travelling is appealing again.  C’est tres bien.

Writing & Mail

Since arriving, I’ve done a relatively good job of keeping a written journal in addition to the blog.  Some days have 5 pages from catching up or simply trying to record events and details.  Everything is important and I don’t want it to go away.  My mom and Baby Kate have been so wonderful sending me mail (love you guys).  I’ve emailed a bit, but am working on getting out some physical letters! There will be at least 4 going out today (assuming all the necessary machines are working at the post office…they weren’t Monday. So no stamps yet.) I’ve gotten mail in the States, so this isn’t the first time. Rather, I’ve always been interested in written correspondence and impressed by those who keep it up on a regular basis (Basically my Nana. You guys don’t even know how great her notes are.) and am finding myself finally making time for it. 

Seprewa

One of the seven classes I chose is a music practical course in seprewa.  The seprewa is a small traditional Ghanain harp.  The name is Twi and literally means “speak, touch, small.” Initially, I went to the Music Department’s notice board and looked for words I didn’t know/couldn’t pronounce. I saw seprewa and atenteben.  Once I learned that atenteben is a small flute and seprewa a small harp, I chose the one with strings, thinking that experience with violin would provide some familiarity.  Not really.  It’s completely different, but I’m so glad I chose it! After 3 classes, I can tell I’ve developed new skills. The first day was spent learning the seprewa’s history and the first round of basic skill sets. 

History: The Asanti(?) people conquered much land in the early days, ~13^th-14^th centuries.  After a battle or war, they sent out search parties to look for survivors and either take them prisoner or kill them. Once during a search, the party went into a hut and found a man who had lost a leg prior to the battle.  He was lying on the ground clutching an odd instrument they’d never seen before.  He began playing and enchanted the warriors who took him back to the king.  The king fell in love with the instrument’s music and ordered the man to play whenever he wanted.  The man was saved because of the little instrument that spoke when touched.  When the man died, the king was very sad and had a seprewa made that was covered in gold.  Seprewa is a Twi word, or rather, words. “Se-pre-wa”: literally “speak, touch, small.” It was very popular in the 15^th and 16^th centuries, but was slowly forgotten for the more popular Western instruments.  It was kept alive by people here and there.  My instructor, Osei, said his grandfather had a dream, in the 50s I believe, and recreated/made a seprewa.  When he was little, Osei asked his grandfather to teach him.  Now he teaches at UG and makes seprewas that he takes to schools in four of Ghana’s ten regions.  His hope is that some of them will come to university and, already having been exposed, will be interested in continuing seprewa.

I was googling “seprewa” yesterday to send a picture to a friend and found a 2009 youtube clip of Osei playing his seprewa.  In the description, it mentions that he is one of five seprewa masters in the world.  Apparently, he’s performed internationally, including with the London Philharmonic. No big deal.  This is my seprewa instructor.  He is the nicest man and has at least 3 great kids whom I met Monday. And to think I considered switching into traditional drumming or dance classes, because where/when else will I ever have the chance to take those?  But then this seprewa thing happened and, you know what? I couldn’t be happier with my choice.  Any and every experience can only add to the knowledge bucket.  Who knows what this’ll do? Below is the link. Enjoy :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbO53jiSZHM

Unnecessary English Letters and How to Pronounce the Letter “c”  OR The Non-Native Knows More About English Than We Do…

I first heard about this while driving up to Blanchard Springs/Mountain Home with my ORientation group freshman year of college.  Jack was one of the OR leaders and always wore a green top hat. He was a linguistics major and spent a good bit explaining why the letter “c” and another that I don’t remember, and is irrelevant to the story, are unnecessary.  “C” can either be hard or soft as in cake or cement, two sounds that are also made by the lovely “k” and “s.”  Seems simple enough and I get it: why have a letter whose sound you seemingly can’t distinguish other than through practice and that can be covered by two others perfectly capable of conveying the phonetic intention every. single. time.  Anyways. Since we can’t change the English characters, how do you determine whether a “c” is soft or hard? I learned the trick from my non-native English speaking Twi instructor who explained the reasoning to an entire classroom of native English speakers. 

There’s this thing linguists call the vowel trapezoid.  Basically when “c” is followed by a frontal vowel, c=s and is soft as in ceiling and cell.  When “c” is followed by a back vowel, c=k and sounds hard as in cake and conduct. 

Black Cinema Night

I’ve lived in the South for 16 years and have seen black movies…but couldn’t tell you which ones they are and could probably definitely count them on one.   I mentioned this in a previous post, but it’s embarrassing how much we [white girls] haven’t been exposed to.  I don’t notice that 99% of major films are white with their token black character or two.  I like to think that people are open minded, that we don’t actually make assumptions based on an individual’s color, that women are treated equally. I conveniently forget that these are not true. Myself definitely included.  About once a week, our group has what we call Black Cinema Night.  Everyone should watch For Colored Girls, a film adaptation of a play. It’s really good. I’ve also been reminded of how beautiful spoken word is and told the difference between it and slam poetry.