Hamburg, Germany – February 2019
Lounging on sofas in Keziah’s living room in Hamburg, Germany, we watched vlogs of people visiting Ghana. Most were of Ghanaian-background young adults who were travelling to Ghana to visit family and see the country from the UK, the US and even a group of sisters from Australia. She commented that she watches these vlogs to see what has changed and what’s new in Ghana and what you could do there. At one point, Keziah sighed wistfully with a smile and said, “Ah, life in Ghana is the best.” Later in the kitchen while cooking, she said was really glad she had gone to live in Ghana for a while, because it meant she could do “these things,” pointing at the chopping board and sink where she was preparing food.
Keziah and her sister fried some Würstchen [frankfurters] in oil in a pan until the skin blistered. Keziah had called out before to ask her brother how many he wanted. He said 4; Keziah scolded him. He came down when they were done, put 4 on a plate with a squirt of mustard, and went back upstairs. Her younger sister put the remaining frankfurters on a plate, added a big squirt of mustard, asked me if I wanted any (I said no, thanks) and then ate them in the kitchen, breaking off chunks of frankfurter with her fingers and dipping them in the mustard before eating them. In the meantime, Keziah chopped up and fried some onion. She got out about 3 frozen tilapia and put them in a pot, defrosting. She also put some frozen peas in a ceramic dish. Keziah’s brother handed her sister a plastic bag containing slices of cheese. Keziah told me that their father says they are getting too fat, so he has banned specific foods from the house, including cheese. So, they go across the road to their aunt’s house to get some. “Oh, so you’ll have to eat it before he gets home,” I said; yes, her sister replied, as she ate the cheese slices on buttered dark bread.
Keziah asked her sister to get out to “koko”, and Vanessa crouched down and opened a door that’s a little off its hinges, and started pulling out plantains. I asked about the name – koko – to check I’d heard it right, and asked where they get the plantains; Afro shops, Keziah replied. She said you can get everything here in Afro shops, but that it tastes different (and better) in Ghana. Keziah started peeling the plantains with her hands and slicing them on a board she rested on the edge of the sink, saying, “I prefer to peel them with my hands rather than a knife,” and telling me that the softer ones would be tastier. As she worked, she put bowls and pans of sliced ingredients on the window sill. She added rice to the fried onions on the stove, stirred it, then added water, telling me that she doesn’t measure it, she just knows how much to put. She then covered it, and came back a few minutes later and added a layer of foil, then a tea towel, and then the lid, to keep the moisture in. “If you keep adding water instead, the rice gets too soft,” she explained. She then plugged in a deep fryer on the floor and said she would call her sister to come and fry the plantains.