The Luxury of Quiet

It turns out that a little peace and quiet is a first world luxury (of course, this is based only on my limited developing world experience). There is never a guarantee of silence around here. Your best bet is on a weeknight between midnight and 4 AM. Try to get REM sleep in that window.

After 4 AM, the roosters start crowing. One was on the porch this morning, approximately six feet away from my head through a screen window. After the rooster, the buckets of water start filling at the faucet in front of our house around five. With buckets come people, of course, and while Ghanaians are generally friendly and helpful, they are a boisterous bunch at any hour. There are many early and loud discussions/arguments/conversations in Fante around the faucet (fifteen feet from my head).

Roosters are roosters, people are people, but the real head scratcher is the village loudspeaker. It starts playing African pop music (usually static-y) about 5:45 AM and continues most of the morning. On Sundays, it plays hymns. [Although this past Sunday the loud speaker was beaten to the punch by a roaming creature/lunatic SCREAMING in Fante about Jesus in front of our house at 5 AM. We were a grumpy group at breakfast.]

Besides the random screaming creatures/people, the loudspeaker is the worst. Especially the static.

The rest of the day is a hodgepodge of people, chickens, goats, loudspeaker. In a village like this, there is little to no personal space, and no central air means screened open windows. Earplugs muffle but don't eliminate. I've found the best solution for a mental escape is to put in earbuds and play non-static-y music of my choice.

The past few days have been particularly noisy in Eguafo. There was a street party Monday night, with lots of dancing in preparation for Tuesday's festival swearing in a new chief of Eguafo. There was a street procession with a marching band, lots of people in traditional dress, the new chief with a crown and goblet of gold (this was the gold coast, afterall) and a man who had a goat slung over his shoulder. I heard the goat was going to be slaughtered and then its blood poured across the new chief's feet. There was music all day and night in celebration.

Although all this noise is so strange to my Western ears, I wonder if after two months of this the peace and quiet of my house will take some adjustment as well.