Fall 2010 - National Peace Corps Association

50th Anniversary“I AM SOMETHING”A shea butter conundrum unlocks a story of Peace Corps successby Maria KarlyaThere is a shea butter mystery,and I am going to solve it.A small pink building withseveral rusting shea butter-producingmachines has been locked up for years.Meanwhile, shea butter continuesto be whipped by hand under trees(an incredibly long process) beforeit can be cooked with or made intosoap. The Red Cross women I workwith have been asking me to get thisold factory running since I arrived.Honestly, I don’t even know whereto begin. I am nearing the end of myservice, and I still don’t understandwhy after all the involvement fromthe local government, all the training,and all the shea nuts donated fromAfrica2000, this pint-sized factoryremains unused. Finally, I decide tocontact Adisa at Africa 2000, an NGOthat for decades has been empoweringpeople, especially women, to be selfsustainable.Their prior involvementwith the factory and my village mightcast some light on the situation.The author and local students.I walk into the office, and am greetedwith a smile a mile wide. The creases inAdisa’s eyes prove that she smiles likethis often. Do you remember anothervolunteer named Michael? I ask her as Ishake her hand. He is the one who gaveme your number. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.I meet a lot of people.” Her smile isstill there. She speaks slowly, but withpurpose. She is wearing a traditionaldress and head wrap, and typing ona new laptop. Her English is perfect.“Maria, I have sons and daughtersfrom all over the world. Hundredsof sons and daughters,” she tells me.“Hundreds.” I was hoping she wouldextend an invite to be my mother also;she looked like the kind of woman whowould fatten me up and give me greatguy advice.“Where are you from in theStates?” Queens, New York. “I’vebeen to Queens,” she says dreamily.“Usually they have us stay in thesefancy hotels in Manhattan, but I hada daughter whose parents insisted IMaria Karlyastay with them in Queens one year.”Do you travel to the US often? “Notanymore. I’m near retiring, I don’thave the energy for it anymore. ButI used to go about three times a year.They send me all over the world.” Ican’t help but be impressed with thisNorthern Ghana native, who managedto overcome every obstacle under thesun in order to be an educated womanin Ghana. In a culture where girls areonly educated long enough to increasetheir bride price, Adisa has landed acareer that has brought her all over theworld, collecting sons and daughtersalong the way.I explained the tricky case to her, andit turns out she was aware of our sheanut problems. “Your community hasmore shea trees than any village I know,”she says, shaking her head. “Maria, hereis the problem. Making shea butter is asocial event for these women. All day,they are in the house serving their menand children. They can’t discuss theirproblems, because the men will hear.They have no privacy. But when theyare under the trees making shea butter,the men won’t mind them. That’s whenthey can talk. They give advice to theirdaughters; they share ideas and discussall their troubles. They cherish that time.Those machines are incredibly loud,and only a few can use them at a time.The process ceases to be social. You cankeep bringing in more machines. Theywill never use them. They won’t tell youwhy and you will think they just don’tcare. But they are smart, they know. ” Ofcourse, that makes perfect sense. I wouldhave never realized that on my own.Case closed.Adisa won’t let me leave until shefeeds me lunch. She leaves the spoonnext to her laptop, and eats the greasyrice and beans with her fingers.“Americans are very special to my heart,”36 WorldView Fall 2010 National Peace Corps Association