On time

Where I'm from, we use time to dictate such things as how far a car has traveled, how much money we're entitled to, when to take the apple pie out of the oven, when to tune in to the pilot of that new TV series, how long an ab workout should last, how long to microwave your popcorn, when the market closes, how standardized an exam is, when to take your developing photos out of the darkroom, when to leave for the airport, etc. Probably because time has so many practical uses in our culture, we tend to think of it as its own entity, like a straight edge ruler. Of course scientists and philosophers have their own crazy ideas about time that stray far from the analogy to a ruler, but I'm talking about the notion your average citizen of a developed country uses to operate.

All those who have declared it their mission to spread Christianity to Ghana hail from such countries. By coming to Ghana, they have no choice but to bring along their straight edge ruler notion of time. Naturally, when these missionaries built churches in Ghana, they equipped them with bell towers that rang out periodically. Although most are currently out of commission, they're impact on the native mindset is evident in a language spoken by more than a third of Ghanaians. In Twi, to ask what time it is you say "Abכ sεn?" This translates to "How many have struck?" which is quite literally a reference to the time-keeping device imported from abroad.

The native notion of time, at least in Donkorkrom, like other measures, is less abstract than bell towers. In most instances, time is more accurately likened to the notion of ripeness. This may have something to do with the agrarian lifestyles of the townspeople and is again evident in their language. In Twi, to ask "What time...?" does such and such happen, you would begin "Bere bεn...?" In this case 'bere' is a noun, but the same word is also a verb meaning "to ripen" or "to tire." The phrase best translates to "At what stage of ripeness/fatigue...?" does such and such happen. The answer to such questions hardly features measurements as much as processes of observable progress. You eat the avocado when it is ripe. You harvest the yam when it is fully grown. The bus leaves when it's full. Class starts when everyone's ready. The meeting starts when enough people show up. You top up on phone credit when you run out.

To me, the fact that time is viewed differently here is most surprising in reference to age. When creating our student register at school, I was surprised to see, when asked their age and date of birth, some students had to deliberate before arriving at estimates. If you follow soccer in America, you may remember the controversy a few years back about the age of a certain D.C. United player, Freddy Adu. Turns out he is from Ghana, a country not too focused on birth documentation.

In Ghana, death is the motive of choice for year-round celebration. Before a town center becomes a dance floor and the town road network a crawl-way, the funeral is announced on roadside signposts. Funeral announcements often feature a picture and the age of the deceased. Having seen a few ages that should land a person in the Guinness Book of World Records, in a country where the life expectancy is more like half the record held by the oldest person, I've been inclined to believe I'm reading something less than honest. I figure such bold claims are more a reflection of the respect the family has for the person than the actual number of years they lived.