On Issues of Love and Marriage

I had the opportunity to go home this last week and one of the most
common questions I was asked was some form of “How do your cultural
differences affect your marriage?” I think it’s because when I
answered questions about the culture and shocked many people on how
different it seemed (I was delighted to find that I’m getting used to
it!), they immediately wondered how my husband and I reconciled those
differences. I gave an example that has been stewing in my brain for a
while as I’ve finally come to see what an amazing man my husband is:
In Ghana, the culture is very segregated when it comes to men, women,
and children. Men have their work, and women have theirs, without lots
of helping each other. Women don’t ride bicycles or work as laborers,
and men don’t change babies or wash dishes. Ever. Not that they can’t,
but that they’ll be seen as un-feminine or emasculated, and in a
society where social pressure is huge, that’s a strong motivation.


Now, there are some exceptions to this rule: my husband is one of
them. He is happy to play with the kids, likes to cook with me, and
doesn’t mind helping me around the house when I get behind. But, he
doesn’t really ever help me with the dishes. Unless I’m sick or just
had a baby, it’s just not something he does. I admit, I used to resent
this. In many American families the mom cooks and the dad does the
dishes, or at least takes out the garbage. Or at least feels guilty
and apologizes for not helping with the dishes. I felt frustrated at
my constant slavery over dishes (I feel a little embarrassed about the
drama I put into this now). I think I even mentioned it to him a few
times, then resigned myself to the fact that my husband just doesn’t
care. Then, we came to Ghana. And I watched other married couples. I
noticed how the husband not only never did the dishes, didn’t seem to
do much of anything around the house. Wouldn’t rock a crying baby,
wouldn’t set the table, wouldn’t say “I love you,” or hold hands with
their wife or kids. And I became very grateful that my husband did all
of those things. I recognized how much he had had to go away from the
culture of his country to be married to me. I started to realize how
petty I had been for being hurt over him not washing the dishes, when
really, he probably felt frustrated I had not acknowledged the many
things he does on a daily basis that his countrymen would call
“women’s work.”

Culture is important, and it runs deep within us. It’s usually hard to
describe to anyone who hasn’t grown up in it, and anyone who has grown
up in it needs no explanation at all. When we move outside of our
culture, either to move to a new country, neighborhood, or family
(shout out to my newly-wed sister Irene!), we have to be ready to look
at our new culture carefully. Not reject it instantly, as our
knee-jerk reaction may desire, but wonder, “Does it really matter?
Does this really make that big of a difference?” Or, if we’re
Christ-like enough, “In the eternal perspective, will this be
important?” Some things, yes, they are important and may need to
change. Like some cultures tendency toward infidelity, or abuse. But
some things, like who does the dishes, or kills the spiders, or makes
overtures of affections, you just have to figure out for yourselves.

This morning I made a new friend at church. She is only visiting for a
few weeks, but she and I had something special in common: She is an
American, married to a Ghanaian. This combination I have seen, maybe
four times (almost five times!) here in Ghana. I know it happens more
often, but many of them don’t come back to Ghana. I feel like it’s a
special bond I share with other women who’ve made my same choice: to
overlook glaring differences and embrace my husband’s and my
similarities. This particular woman looked slightly panicked. I could
tell this visit to Ghana had been difficult for her. She’d only been
here two weeks so far, but I could see the thought of living here
forever seemed very intimidating. And I can see why. The first two
weeks of any life change are very difficult (think new marriage, new
baby, new country…). I hope Ghana doesn’t scare her too much. I hope
that all of us who are facing new challenges will not give in to fear
but face the future with faith (self included).

Many Happy Returns!

Hello World! I'm sorry we've been so absent again. I do actually have two blog posts, but this internet cafe computer says they are unidentifiable files...so we'll try again next week to clear the back log. Here's a quick note, and then next week, on to something really important: hair.

I had a wonderful trip recently to visit family in Alaska as my sister Irene was married. Oh, it was so nice to be with family again. I enjoyed them all very much, I enjoyed being in America too, but, contrary to local speculation, I did return to my family as planned. Do you know, a lot of our ward members, and even some of our friends and family members thought I wouldn't be coming back. When Emmanuel mentioned I'd traveled to the states, they thought I'd flown the coop! I guess that's the pattern here for Obroni's, they marry an African, come over for a while, become desperately homesick and tired of living here after a few months and then they leave. They may travel back and forth for a while trying to convince their husband's they still love them, just not their country.

Someday I will love this country.

I'm proud to report that my husband, my in-laws, and my children were not surprised when I returned. And hopefully I've earned a closer look from the locals who didn't expect to see me here again.