We had gone shopping for Lebanese flat bread, tofu, pineapple and cauliflower and everywhere we went kids were calling us out. This is normal and happens to us on average fifteen to twenty times a week. We’ve been here well over a year now so I’d guess we’ve been hollered at by groups of children upwards of a thousand times.
What was kind of cute the first five or six hundred times, has become supremely annoying and we’ve stopped responding. We decided to pull our energies inward, preferring intimate conversation to street theater.
Push the Obroni button, get a response, ask for money. The novelty has worn off. The routine has gotten old.
My Australian friend, fellow blogger Chrissie and I recently walked through the neighborhood to lunch, attracting similar hoards of barking youngsters. She informed me that Ghanaian children are not supposed to greet their elders first. It’s a respect thing. Which only added resolve to my decision to ignore them.
So Bob and I had been walking for about an hour, it was getting hot, we were carrying loads and the 6th group of kids started clamoring for our attention. Bob pressed his finger to his lips and caught the eye of one young lad who silently pressed his own finger to his lips in solidarity. But the rest of the boys continued yelling at us.
After we passed, they only got louder. And louder. Until I turned around and absolutely lost it. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I barked back at them. They jumped back, eyes open in shock. I continued yelling, Bob chimed in.
It wasn’t pretty but we got it out of our system, turned and went our way in silence.