Normalizing generosity

In American culture, generosity feels like an exceptional quality. We don’t all exhibit it all of the time; when we do, we often expect gratitude or reciprocation. I have a spatial sense of generosity as being an extension beyond the expected.

In Ghana, generosity is commonplace. People will go out of their way to help you -- and treat it like a tiny favor. We were in the market one day and asked a woman from whom we had just purchased fabric where we might find baking soda. She called over a friend to watch her stand and led us halfway across the market, stopping traffic, to a nondescript store that carried baking soda -- then led us all the way back again.

I had an experience this weekend that made clear to me just how “normal” generosity is for most Ghanaians. On Friday afternoon, a friend from one of my classes texted me out of the blue, “I told my mother you will be coming home with me this weekend, so we will leave at 8” (Generous Act #1). My friend lives in a neighborhood outside of Accra. We took a trotro there -- she paid for me (Generous Act #2). Much of her extended family lives in a pair of neighboring housing complexes, so within minutes I met her parents, her brother, her cousin and her aunt, then was introduced to the rest of the family as two giant photo albums were placed in my lap (I consider being welcomed into a family’s personal history like that Generous Act #3).

My friend’s mom learned I was vegetarian, so she brought out some salad and bread (#4). Someone casually mentioned that a grandmother’s funeral was taking place next weekend; within minutes I had been invited and traditional cloth was measured and cut so that I could have an appropriate funeral outfit tailored (#5, #6).

Speaking of important, personal family events -- my friend’s cousin was getting married that day, and we could drop in on the reception! She found me a dress of hers to wear, her brother went out and bought jewelry and hair things, she searched through all her shoes until she found a pair I could squeeze my feet into and loaned me a clutch; her brother drove us forty minutes to the reception (I’m going to stop counting generous acts now). I met a million aunts and cousins, who ran around finding vegetarian food for me and who ended up driving us home.

Back at my friend’s house, her mom had bought a package of cookies and a bottle of juice for me. We went next door to her aunt’s house, where her aunt was making dinner, and she took the time to explain the process of making banku. She fried delicious maize pudding dumplings -- I tried to share them evenly with my friend but she made me take at least two-thirds.

In all these interactions, I tried to express my profuse gratitude and amazement. My friend kept laughing at me. “Stina, why are you always thanking us? This is normal.” Today, she called to check up on me, saying her mom was concerned that their food would upset my stomach. This intensive mode of looking after guests and friends wasn’t even noteworthy to my Ghanaian hosts.

I don’t know what the Final Tally of Generous Acts was for the day -- but the experience definitely showed me that for all the adjustment and learning I have done here, culture shock is never-ending!