Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Public Pick

Privacy is different here. Many people aren't comfortable eating in public. However, it's perfectly acceptable to urinate while facing on-coming traffic and chatting with the local authorities at a police checkpoint. And bath time is the perfect opportunity to soap up and wave hello to the neighbors. Many Peace Corps volunteers, myself included, get a strange satisfaction from trying unusual, embarrassing and sometimes disgusting things in the name of cultural integration. While I haven't yet urinated in front of a police officer or taken a bath in full view of a church congregation I have tested my own comfort limits from time to time. And sometimes these acts of machismo (or stupidity) do turn out to be gratifying experiences. This is one tame instance that I felt ok posting where my grandmother could read it.

Not too many day's ago I was trying to find some shade while I waited for the taxi home from Nkwanta to fill up. The Harmattan, a month long bout of dusty skies brought over from the Sahara, was still in full force and I felt a felt an unwelcome sensation in my left nostril. Once I became aware of it I wasn't able to take the dried clump of mucus and dust lodged in my skull off my mind. I suffered for a good five minutes before a vivacious young vendor walked by. She had a big glass box on her head, filled with something meaty and she kept calling out “YeeeEEEEeeeess gizzzaaard!” She noticed me staring and walked in my direction, probably assuming I wanted a gizzard kabob. Then, while looking me in the eye, she unabashedly shoved her index finger up one of her nostrils, hooked it and pulled out the offending crust. I was inspired.

In America it is taboo to pick your nose at all, especially in public. This is a regrettable and unreasonable expectation put on us by our society. There are some boogers that simply can't be rubbed or blown away. While I would never advocate habitual picking (I learned my lesson during the memorable Dodgeball Incident of '96) I do think it's time we acknowledged and embraced the occasional need to pick.

I then remembered that I had seen this many times before while in Ghana. I had always admired Ghanaians for their ability to do it in public but I hadn't yet had a chance to test my own bravado. Well here it was. I'll admit I hesitated. I had to look around and make sure there weren't any other Obronis walking by. But I was eventually able to take the plunge. I'm proud to say I removed it with all the expertise of a six-year old, right there in front of hundreds of people in the Market day crowd. This was liberating in more more ways than one. The vendor stopped in front of me, her eyes still fixed on mine. She smiled. We had a moment.