Food Glorious Food

What I wish I had...

 Cast your minds back to Christmas day. As you took that first bite of your succulent sausage wrapped in its blanket of streaky bacon your hangover now seemed like a distant memory. As I woke up, hot and sweaty, with not a Christmas decoration in site, I missed home more than ever as pictures of presents, families and turkeys slowly began to surface on Facebook.

...What I actually had

To cheer me up my boyfriend’s mum had offered to cook a traditional meal for me, fufu and groundnut soup. Fufu has a smooth, kind of slimy, dough like texture to it and is rather tasteless, hence why it sits in the soup, which is a spicy broth with a peanut base.

Ghanaians don’t care much for knives and forks, the right way to eat this dish is to break off some fufu, role it into a ball, use your hand to scoop the soup and aim to get it in your mouth. Yes it as messy as it sounds for the inexperienced fufu eaters.

So excited for pizza!!!

The only thing in our fridge that day was a few bags of water (yes you read that correct, bags not bottles) so when I finally heard a knock at the door later that afternoon I couldn’t get to my feet quick enough. As the pots and pans were placed down I couldn’t wait for the lids to be removed, but when they did my heart sank.

What lay in front of me can only be described as, well I will let you make up your own minds, (see picture above right) and on this occasion it was served with goat meat... I have no words to describe my hatred for, in my opinion, the putrid taste of goat.

Cheesy piece of heaven

But I have always been taught not to judge a book by its cover so I took a deep breath, rolled my fufu, scooped my soup and cautiously manoeuvred my hand to my mouth, most of which had escaped through my fingers and down my face by the time it got there. It was very nerve racking moment in my life as all eyes were on me waiting eagerly for my reaction.

Condensed milk sticks 

Put it this way while you were asking to be passed the gravy the only thing I was asking to be passed was the sick bucket. I felt truly awful as Daron’s mum had slaved all morning over the dish but unfortunately it just wasn’t for me. Daron knew straight away I didn’t like it but I gave him an icy look that said do not say a word as I smiled and nodded at his lovely mum. I managed three mouthfuls before giving in.

The minute she left I tore open the melted Lindt chocolate balls my mum had sweetly hidden in my case and scoffed every one. My boyfriend felt really bad so to make up for things he took me out for pizza and drinks. Never in my entire life has that cheesy piece of heaven tasted so good.

Yummy Scrummy Indomie 

I find the resourcefulness of Ghanaians both fascinating and inspiring. They will literally make a meal out of anything. From condensed milk sticks, to dried fish, to fried plantain chips there is something for every food junkie on the streets of Accra. Although the thought of eating dried fish that has been sat in a see through plastic box, basking in the sunlight all day, has got ‘day spent on the toilet’ written all over it in my eyes.

To make living cheaper I eat a lot of food that is prepared on the street. A personal, unhealthy, favourite of mine is Indomie, Ghana’s answer to Supernoodles, but so, so much better. The cooked noodles are fried with a mixture frankfurters, corned beef, sardines, eggs, salad and chili powder. I know what you’re thinking but trust me this stuff is literally amazing. At home I wouldn’t go within 10 meters of tinned meat, never mind actually eating it, but as I always say …. when in Ghana!

My Shito and scrambled egg

The condiment of choice over here is hot pepper sauce, otherwise known as ‘Shito’. Although it does have a resemblance of shit this is not the reason for its name and it certainly tastes far from it (not that I have tried poo). This spicy delight literally goes with everything, I even put it with my scrambled egg, which brings me on to my next subject, breakfast.

After a heavy night on the tiles there is nothing we all love more than tucking into a fat, greasy, heart attack inducing fry up. During my internship my friends and I thought it would be a good idea to play out on a school night. As we grinded and dutty wined into the early hours there is no surprise we slept through our 6am alarm. Already late we decided to hunt for food on our way to work.

Not a patch on Greggs

My mouth began to water as I read the menu consisting of, what I thought to be, the standard breakfast ingredients and I eagerly placed my order.  As the waitress put the plate down my smile slowly faded as I stared horrified at what was in front of me. The bacon was GREY, the sausages were square and clearly mechanically made and the five individual beans came in a pot the size of my thumb. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.

England should take note!

I left feeling even worse than when I arrived but when I finally got to work there was a little present waiting on my desk. On inspection it looked like a sausage roll so I asked my colleague what it was and he simply replied “meat pie”. As I took my first bite it was far from a Greggs. The bright pink meat staring back at me was enough to put me off. Not wanting to look ungrateful I waited until the coast was clear and slid it in the bin.

As well as the local food joints Accra is bursting at the seams with fine dining hotspots , Italian, Chinese, Mexican, Sushi, you name it Accra has got it. And no city would ever be complete without a few KFCs.

Attempting to be healthy

Now let me tell you, these are no ordinary KFCs. While they may not offer the superb side of gravy they totally make up for it in other ways. Not only do they DELIVER, you also get the option to have your chicken hot and crispy or original and the popcorn chicken comes with a sachet of zinger sprinkles. And to top it off when you opt to dine in you even get it served to you on a plate. What more could you ask for?

Best beef on the street

My willpower to eat healthy is tested daily and it doesn’t always win. One day my boyfriend and I were passing through his old neighbourhood on our way to work. Daron suddenly sat up in his seat, practically licking the window, and ordered our driver to stop. “Yooooooo this guy does the best meat in town mannnn”, he shouted, while excitedly pointing to an old guy prodding his home made BBQ.

Finest ribs in town

Before I knew it he had jumped out of the car and returned with a rather large black, plastic bag with a meaty smell wafting from it. He seemed rather pleased with himself so I didn’t ask questions. When we finally arrived at the office we had been locked out so to pass the time we decided to climb up to the roof.

I cautiously opened the bag to find countless strips of spicy coated meat wrapped in newspaper. I asked him what meat it was and he simply shrugged. If there is one thing I have learnt about eating local style the key is to not ask questions and don’t think about what you are eating. Just try it, chew it and hope you can swallow it. Nine times out of ten you will be pleasantly surprised. (My mother was totally horrified at the prospect I could have been consuming cat or dog.)

As I looked over the roof tops of Accra I pondered for a moment. If you told me several months ago that today I would be sat on a roof in Africa, eating unidentifiable meat out of a plastic bag, I would have laughed in your face. But the truth is, at that moment, I could not have been any happier.

That being said, it all boils down to this, no matter how many times I have been ‘pleasantly’ surprised you won’t find me asking ‘please sir, can I have some more’ any time soon!

Wish you were here XOXO

The Alien Has Landed

"Lady Gaga, Lady Gaga!” I spun around suddenly, excitedly looking left to right. Could it be the one and only poker face had made a surprise appearance in Ghana? As I turned I noticed people were in actual fact looking at me.

"Lady Gaga" yeah right!

Now I am no Lady Gaga but it would seem having white skin, blonde hair and packing in the derriere department gives you an almost celebrity status among some Ghanaians. I admit I can be a bit of an attention whore from time to time but when I first arrived here even I found it quite daunting having all eyes on me.

I waited patiently in the non-residents queue for my passport to be vetted. When it was my turn to be seen I found myself answering the usual questions; what is the purpose of your visit? Where are you staying? It was the last question that took me by surprise; when can I see you again?

Lights out all out!

Now forgive me if I am not mistaken but this is airport security not Take Me Out. They are supposed to be on the look-out for potential terrorists not sexual conquests. I laughed sheepishly to avoid answering the question and watched in amazement as he slipped his number in the back of my passport with a wink.

As I walked the streets of Accra, bright blonde quiff bouncing up and down and booty shaking from side to side, I heard people shout: “Hey white girl”, or “O Bruni” (foreigner), a phrase which has grown to be very familiar. At first I found this quite rude but I soon realised no offence was intended.

Taking the quiff on safari

Growing up in a predominately white area and having never travelled outside of Europe, bar America and Mexico, I found it quite intimidating being the minority. Especially when I travelled by bus I would imagine how it felt when the shoe was on the other foot but the feeling soon began to fade away as I settled into Ghana life.

People stopped me in the street to compliment my curvy “African shape” (apparently I have “swag” in Ghana too), men and even women would ask for my phone number, one guy actually wanted me to sign his hat. Just the other day a young girl crossed the street purposely to rub passed me, I simply laughed as my (Ghanaian) boyfriend stared on in horror.

While my big behind is not always appreciated in the UK it is quite a different story over here. In fact the
bigger the bum the better. During my first month as an intern one of my colleagues felt it appropriate to tell me my bum looked big in my particular choice of outfit that day.

 Big bootyyyyyy

Now, like any other girl would, I resisted the urge to swing a left hook and tried to hide my offence with a rather sarcastic ‘thank you’ before strutting off down the hall. Little did I realise this was meant as a compliment.

My boyfreind, Daron, and I

My boyfriend sometimes gets irritated with all the stares, as if I am some sort of foreign object, although I can’t help but laugh at his embarrassed reaction when the kids flock around me and chase me down our street. But who am I to complain if a wave from a white person has just made their day. I love seeing the delighted look on their little faces when I give them a high five.

Now you have to remember that in the less touristy areas of Ghana to see a white person is something quite rare. Some young children may have ever seen a white person in the flesh so it comes as no surprise that when they see me they tug on their parents clothes curiously, not daring to blink until I am no longer in sight.

My fellow Bruni's

One day I was sat on a bus staring blankly out of the window when I noticed a lady rocking her sleeping baby. When she saw me looking she smiled in delight and gently shook the baby until he was awake to look at me. I waved back sweetly, still a little in shock, but the thought that I could have been the first white person that baby had ever seen made me smile.

It took some getting used but I eventually began to like the attention and now I embrace it, occasionally using it to my advantage. I have received free paintings, souvenirs, bus journeys and I hardly have to buy my own drinks in the club (a rare occurrence for me in England).

Free souvenir (with no. inside)

One day a young fellow decided he would follow me round the supermarket asking to be my friend. I managed to ignore him for the duration of my shop but when I finished packing my bags I realised I had an awful lot to carry. So when he kindly offered to carry my shopping I didn’t have to think twice.

I am surprised my head even fitted through the aircraft doors when it was time for my departure from my first visit. As I sauntered off the plane in rainy old Manchester not one person glanced in my direction let alone complimented my well-endowed derriere.

My fellow flyers watched me struggle to move the luggage trolley, not realising you had to pay a pound, and no one came to my rescue as I searched my purse hopelessly, knowing full well I had no money. As I proceeded to drag my three heavy suitcases through customs it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was forced to come crashing back down to earth where the only person waiting eagerly to see me, with open arms, was my dear mum.

There is no surprise I whipped out my phone and typed in Sky Scanner as soon as I sat in the car, keen to plan my next trip back. I have now been back and forth to Ghana three times in the last 6 months and have decided to take up residency here for the foreseeable future.

People always ask me why I love Ghana so much, what is there not to love about this attention seekers paradise?

Wish you were here XOXO