THE GHANA CHRONICLES: Culture of Connection—6/20/23

  

Last visit to Ghana, after going to a traditional religious ceremony where women sang and danced side by side for some six hours, I asked Kofi whether people in Ghana went to therapists. He laughed heartily, understanding my meaning. Not that folks don’t have the same kind of doubts or relationship issues that a good therapist might help with, but our mutual understanding that so much of our need for therapy is our feelings of loneliness, isolation, alienation that our very way of living creates and reinforces. And then blames us for not having beautiful Pepsi moments like the people on the commercials, privatizes our pain and offers a solution by isolating us further with a single person in the therapist’s office charging lots of money with a clock running. 

Likewise, with kids in schools. We raise them with appliances, let them eat dinner alone in their rooms with the screens on, gift them with devices that addict them to “likes” on social media, that distant culture of flaming where they can say what they want without accountability or face-to-face relationship. We allow them to enter the stream of hyper-speed sensation and then diagnose them with ADD and prescribe drugs. An ungainly number of kids in schools leave classes to talk to learning specialists or counselors, more and more have personal coaches tailing them throughout the day to help them with their social dysfunction, all the while making them sit in classes that demand right answers to questions they’ve never asked and taken away arts programs that offer needed expression and connection.

 

Watching what the Nunya kids could do last night, 150% in their bodies dancing like they mean it, completely alert to the signals from the master drummer to flawlessly execute intricate choreographies, a real (not fake) joyful smile on each and every face, the contrast was both inspiring and depressing. And then before bedtime, I make the mistake of opening e-mail to some 60 e-mails, 55 of which are people trying to sell me something, scam me, get me to sign something to stop the next political catastrophe. Perhaps five at the most from a friend saying hi or trying to arrange something. Really, why do I even bother? Remember the promise that e-mail and Facebook would connect us? Have we finally figured out how it leaves us more lonely than ever? 

 

Historian Arnold Toynbee once said something to the effect that “Africa has contributed nothing of value to civilization,” citing the lack of Pyramids or Taj Mahals built by slaves by people with more than their fair share of wealth and power. Shame on him. Today we would fault the continent for not making leading advances in electronic technologies or nuclear weapons or excessive wealth and profit, all of which threaten the well-being of the planet and its people. We don’t know what we don’t know and all our ignorance about the beauty of so many cultures with music and dance and community at the center means we’re not prepared to understand what they have to teach us. Not open to the idea that living well in the first place might save us lots of time and money with our further isolating solutions to social and emotional problems that we create. That kids doing clapping plays in music class can learn to integrate their chaotic brains within the context of joyful community connection rather than doing artificial exercises alone with the counselor or learning specialist. 

 

So, Mr. Toynbee, while the world portrays this extraordinary continent as poor, I agree with Bob Marley when he says “Some people are so poor all they have is money.” Or machines, I might add. All these people writing junk mails have little inside that feels rich, little to each side that they connect with, just lonely, impoverished, miserable creatures preying on others to create some illusion of self-worth. So I raise my tiny voice to suggest that we take a look at this. That we build a culture of connection, inspired and guided by the wisdom of Africa.

I think tomorrow I’ll choose to not open e-mail and instead, get up and join the dance.