The baby theme continues! I was thrilled when I received an invite from David, a colleague that I have met through my work here, we have been teasing him for weeks about his new born baby having no name, and finally the ceremony is here and I am invited.

Going there alone, I'm faced with two challenges. Number one - what time do I go? The invite says 9am, but does that actually mean 9am? It also say 'prompt', but really how 'prompt' are we talking? I have learnt that most of the time here, people operate on 'Africa time'. However, I've also seen the wrath of Ghanaians upset because people are late, so I'm left slightly confused by this cultural contradiction! I choose to play it safe and head for 9am...don't want to arrive half way through the ceremony or anything, I'll attract enough attention as the only white person as it is!

Challenge number 2 - how on earth do I find it? The invite says 'Sakoum', and when I asked my colleagues where this was, they just pointed out over the fields past our office and said, 'over there!'. I'm like 'where?' and they're like 'there!'. Seeing the confusion on my pinky white I'm-not-used-to-a-place-without-road-names face they attempted to provide more detail..."just go up the dust track, past the house of the lady that sells pito, curve where the goats are, follow it past the rocks, and arrive at the Baobab tree". Hmmm, ok then, just let me write this down...pito lady, goats, rocks...hmmm I can already see myself riding around lost and confused, typical crazy nasara in ton, children giggling at the sides of the roads.

So, I'm not going to tell you how, but I did make it! The only problem was, as it turned out, although I was there at '9am prompt' I was after all a little bit early. Well, something like three hours shall we say. Even David when he saw me simply said 'you didn't waste much time!', ushering me into a chaotic house where people were jumbling about clearly trying to get ready for an important family ceremony and I was just about to start getting in the way. Luckily I found a place to sit, and the next thing I knew the baby was thrust into my arms and everyone dashed off to bath, cook, dress, find matching shoes for their outfit. So it was just me and baby no-name, sitting quietly waiting for the day to begin.

He's a gorgeous baby, small body, big head, caramel brown and big fluffy black African hair. Lucky for me he was very peaceful and calm, only peering up at me, eyes wide and serious, every now and again to give me a gurgle or a burp. Thank goodness they can't get scared of white people quite just yet, it's nice to be close to a young baby without it running off skrieking!

It also meant that I got to meet half the family, as arriving one by one they wanted to come and take a look at the baby. I couldn't remember half of their names, but it was nice to see some friendly faces at an event where I was already standing out like a sore thumb.

After a while I figured my time was up invading thee family space and taking up a far more important role (holding the precious baby) than I should have considering I barely know the family! So handing the baby to a coo-ing relative, one of the younger brothers showed me outside so I could take a seat and wait for the fun to begin. The set up was the usual - marquee's set up in a field next to the house, rows upon rows of blue plastic chairs in anticipation of the hundreds who will attend, a white table for the Pastor to stand and give his blessing, and of course a large stack of huge black speakers stacked up, a DJ slouched in his chair surrounded by all kinds of wires and electrical equipment, and music BOOMING across the valley and down all the way back to Zebilla (now there's your clue as to how I managed to get there ;).)

I sat and waited for a whole three hours. In a blue plastic chair. Waiting. Bored but looking as pleasant as I can. But still waiting. Flip I wish I could figure out African time. By the time the ceremony was about to start I was practically deaf from the booming music, and could barely hear what was being said for the ringing in my ears.

It was a nice event, David and is wife looking super smart in their bright white outfits, the baby wrapped in layers of white wool. The family all came in their colourful droves, the women all cooing and clucking over the baby, the men sitting quietly practically at the other side of the field. So not too different from home really. The pastor gave a thunderous speech on the importance of giving a child a good name, and bringing him up well. He was super animated and there was lots of serious arm waving and gesticulating going on which was great as this was how I figured out what he as saying, until someone took pity on me and came over to translate. There were music interludes for dancing (which I shied away from seeing as the atmosphere was less Ghanaian free-for-all and more like our English 'no you dance first' 'no yooou dance first!' type of thing), and opportunities for giving important gifts (which unfortunately no one came forward for which I thought might be a bit embarrassing, but no one seemed to be too bothered).

And then they gave the name... Jessie Something Something. Sorry, they said it so quickly I didn't catch the African name, oops! So after it was all over and the music was booming back down into the valley again, I was invited to have my photo taken with little Jessie Something Something, and his proud parents (I just can't believe how peaceful he was amidst all this hub-bub of activity). The party wasn't really getting into swing so I decided best not to shimmy onto the dancefloor, and so I carefully said my goodbyes to all those people I had met but couldn't remember their names and jumped back on my moto to attempt to find my way back into town.

With love from baby-happy Ghana,

Em

Xx