If a Tree Falls in the Woods

Before I left for Ghana, my Staff Manual specifically stated “There is less of a concept in Ghana that the noise someone makes, at any hour, intrudes on someone else’s privacy.” It went on for a few paragraphs, which I wrote off as a mere jeremiad – after all, I survived living in an American university setting. Well, it didn’t take me long to realize that I had underestimated the Ghanaian decibels and overestimated my numbness to my surroundings.

As it turns out, it is socially acceptable (heaven knows why) to make a ruckus at any time of day. A hypothetical example: Everyone is sleeping in our hostel because it is hypothetically 1am and you are watching the sports highlights in the TV room. You find out that your favorite team won the game. It is entirely acceptable for you to make merry down the entire hall to ensure everyone else is immediately aware of your team’s victory.

For the most part, the human body adjusts. I don’t know the science behind it, but my subconscious has learned to treat some audible stimuli as white noise, like the blind roosters who don’t realize that it’s only 3am. There are a few exceptions to this policy.

For the first few weeks, I swear someone had set up a theater stage right outside my window. In ten minute intervals, a throng of Ghanaians would be cheering and clapping for the performance that just ended. I guess I can’t complain since they had the decency to provide me a courtesy balcony seat that normally demands a premium price. Thankfully, I have not been invited back in a few weeks, and am hopeful that it was more of a traveling act than an established venue.

Then there are the morning buses. The buses are the primary transportation to and from schools, churches, magic shows, basically anything. Best practice is to quite literally sit upon the horn until you are guaranteed that everyone in Western Africa is aware of your arrival. My hypothesis is that the horn serves as a final alarm clock if you have (heaven knows how) accidentally slept through morning speakers blasting Michael Jackson or Alan Jackson.

And just when I thought I had seen (or rather heard) it all. This morning the local Ghanaians literally erected a church right outside my window. Commencing at 6:30am, nothing shy of 100 Ghanaians joined in worship and praise, attempting to collectively reach the ears of the heavens. And in true Ghanaian tradition, the worship portion of the service lasted until after 9am, when I finally left my hostel. On my way out, I couldn’t help but notice that the devotees all stood beneath a large camouflage tent. No wonder the parish was singing so loudly; they were simply trying to get God’s attention, and seeing as God couldn’t see them beneath the camouflage, they were making a solid appeal to His other senses.

I’m not sure if my life is The Truman Show, but I’m fairly certain that if a tree were to fall in the woods here, first, the woods and woodpeckers would be transported right outside my window, second, chainsaws would be responsible for the fall, and third, just to be sure, it would come crashing through my window.