Abrua Afia Afofi

By Stephanie Fox -
To portray the charm of the old lady (Abrua) Afia here in a post is seeming impossible.
Afia's house is a clay house, one room with a clay floor and tin roof. It stands slightly apart from the rest of the houses, on top of a small hill next to a path going into the forest. We eat lunch beside her house everyday, on her bench under a small tree, always bringing some extra to share with her. Afia seems to spend some time and keep her things at another house in the village, I think her family house, but she keeps her house on the hill to maintain her independence (you go girl). She feeds her self mainly from farming, but makes her daily bread by collecting bundles of firewood that she sells for 1 cedi each (50 cents CAN). We often see her collecting firewood in the forest (villagers are allowed to collect dead wood), always singing as she goes. It is remarkable watching this 70- something lady chop up branches with her machete, stack them all up and then carry the huge load out of the forest on her head.

Afia speaks next to no English, but knows enough for us to have one conversation. We have this same conversation nearly every time that we meet, half in Twi and half in English, like a small well practiced skit. It goes like this (all in English here):

A: Afia! (My name in Twi is also Afia, meaning 'Friday born girl', and she calls it out while she sits at the door of her house.)
S: Good morning Afia! How are you?
A: It's fine (she says in a tone that in English portrays 'can't complain' and flips her hands palms up by her side, slightly shrugging her shoulders). And how are you?
S: Also fine!
A: Are you going to farm?
S: Oooo sorry Afia, I don't know farm.
A: Are you going to fire? (She means collect firewood)
S: Ooo sorry Afia, I don't know fire. Only monkeys. Lets go monkeys.
A: Ai! I don't know monkeys. Lets go farm. Monkeys tomorrow.

Then she talks away in Twi for a minute, I make a joke or two in English or maybe talk about how long I have been walking around the forest looking for monkeys, of course both of us knowing that the other doesn't understand what we are saying. Then we laugh and say 'we shall meet tomorrow, bye bye!'. As the days pass the conversation does not get any less delightful.

Sometimes Afia does a small dance and sings 'are you going to farm, are you going to farm, are you going to farm' when she has seen us out of the corner of her eye coming up the pathway. She also did a tremendously adorable song and dance for Andy when it was her birthday. An occasional variation of our conversation involves her asking if we are going to Canada, by which she really means 'take me to Canada'.

Afia's material possessions are exceptionally few, her husband passed away sometime ago, of her 7 children only one remains in Boabeng, and she is hungry more often than not. It makes ones heart wrench with both sadness and joy to see a woman with so little be so happy, always singing and dancing and laughing. Afia is most definitely one of my favourite people in the world. Someone we can all take a lesson from.

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