Akwaaba; Akua

Thursday, August 19

Since I have been having some difficulty with infants crying at the sight of me, I have been asking around whenever I get a chance to hear different opinions of what I could do differently. One of the new revelations earlier in the week came from one of the field workers as well as a few of the study mothers. The field worker mentioned that it was likely that I am the first white person many of these infants have seen. This was confirmed by some of the study mother’s explanation for why their infant was crying. At first I was surprised. It hadn’t occurred to me that I hadn’t actually seen another white person since being in Kpong. I don’t feel like I am any different from anyone else here, so the fact that my color would cause difficulties during the saliva collection just seemed so ridiculous. But the infants can’t help it if I’m funny looking, so I was determined to find a way to make it better. After talking with my sister, who is a speech pathologist for children, and Naadu, who gave me some good pointers, I decided the best approach was to spend some time engaging with the mothers before they enter the clinic. This way, the infants could see that their mother was not scared or threatened by me and also to see me in a non-clinical setting (so they don’t immediately assume I am going to stick them with a needle).

Akwaaba means Welcome and is generally understood by people speaking many of the languages. There are so many languages in Ghana that everyone at least speaks two local languages in addition to English. Upon arriving at the clinic, the mothers sit in the shade under the trees while one of the field workers reads through a consent form and questionnaire. I used this as an opportunity to welcome the mothers in their own language and then get to know a little about the mother and say hi to the infant. After my first few attempts at speaking little bits of the local language (welcome and thank you) were met with encouraging smiles, I started getting a bit more confident with trying out a few phrases in trwee (one of the local languages). The infants are still shy, but seeing their mothers talk comfortably with me seems to have made them a bit more comfortable (some of them anyway).

After a busy day full of a steady stream of mothers (actually I think it was more of one big tidal wave), I stayed after to spend some time in the lab prepping the samples. At a separate lab, where we are storing the samples until I leave, I met Eugene and Abubu, two lab technicians that work at one of the hospitals that are used by the study. After asking my name, someone will occasionally follow up by asking what day of the week I was born. In Ghana, people are given one name on their birth certificate and another name according to the day of the week they were born (My favorite is the name for males born on Friday: Kofi (pronounced coffee). Upon hearing that I did not have a clue what day of the week I was born, Eugene and Abubu looked up what day of the week October 2, 1985 was. I was born on a Wednesday, so I finally learned my Ghanaian name: Akua (pronounced Aqueea).