About every three weeks I politely inquire whether the millet is ‘plenty.’  The purpose of this inquiry is this: for my room, for my daily meals, and for a bounty of love and kindness, I pay a small rent of about 20-30 bowls of millet per month.  This gesture was first extended by my predecessor, Shea, who at one time,realized that none of the family was eating that week because the millet was ‘out.’  Millet is the staple here.  Its flour is used to make TZed, which is a thick and filling carbohydrate that many consider the only truly satisfying meal.  Of course, my idea of rent extends much further than this gesture of food security for the family, but it is by far the most symbolic to all of us.

At the center of my home life here in Ghana is Victoria Anamooh, or ‘Mama Vic,’ as most know her more commonly by.  She’s a mom to more than me.  Her welcoming home sees many visitors on any given day, all lured by her colourful story telling, her insights into life and faith, and her ever-present smile.  But Victoria is more than just a warm smile: this woman has a story.

Today Vic is a veteran Agriculture Extension Agent of 18 years.  She went to Agriculture College to study extension over 25 years ago.  During school she fell in love with a Ghanaian man studying in Switzerland, and she thought that she would marry him.  But her father had different ideas.  When her father’s compatriot’s wife died while giving birth to her third child, Victoria was immediately sent to marry him instead.  Vic says that she wept, but she did as her father desired.  She married the man and she took the three children as her own.  After two years, tragedy struck and one of the children died.  Vic was soon pregnant and in the next 6 years she gave birth to five of her own sons, one of whom died at birth and one who died at 11 months old.

Drama seemed never far from Vic: when her middle son, Immanuel, was two, he was kidnapped for two weeks by a woman who had been charged with caring him for the day.  Finally word reached Vic and her husband that Immanuel had been seen with the woman about 60km away.  They retrieved Imman, who was not physically harmed.  I once asked Vic why Imman, who is now 24 years old, is so aloof and quiet (compared to her and her other children who are spirited and sociable).  So she told me the story and said ‘that is why he is that way.’

Vic was in her mid twenties and raising five children when her husband died.

A widow, she was left with few options.  She lived with her brother-in-law, who provided no assistance to Vic nor any of her children.  Joseph and Peter, the oldest boys, suffered the most, as they could not attend school: Vic could not afford the fees and she needed them to tend to the animals.  Two years after becoming a widow, Vic agreed to enter a formal relationship with a married man named Edward.  Don’t be too surprised: this is not very unusual here.  Vic became Ed’s formal mistress (know to the wife and the whole community), and Ed in return provided for Vic’s basic needs like helping with food and firewood.

As the years stretched on, Vic made one big decision that would dictate every other action moving forward: she would make sure that each of her children were educated.  That meant sacrificing many comforts, including sometimes going hungry or being forced to walk for miles to get to town or work, instead of taking the taxi or bus.  Vic even adopted a daughter, Zita, who was ten at the time and orphaned.

Two years ago Vic’s oldest son, whom she had adopted, died suddenly from hepatitis B.  Hep B is prevalent here: because of malaria, people here are extremely susceptible to hepatitis and it is a disease that can kill extremely quickly.  Vic was devastated.  Joseph was 28 years old, and Vic considered him her closest confidante.  Vic’s other adopted daughter, Rebecca, from her late husband, was also grief stricken.  In her sorrow she declared to Vic’s larger family that Vic was a witch and that she had caused Joseph’s death.  The impact of the accusation was profound.  Rebecca has never returned home since then, and has never cleared Vic publicly of the accusation.  Rebecca, without a parent, immediately married an illiterate man and now lives in destitution with two children.

Soon after Joseph died, Vic decided that she wanted to break with Ed.  She had been with him for 20 years, and although he had been kind to her, she wanted her independence.  For about 8 months Vic stood her ground.  But earlier this year, the pressure on her from her oldest and youngest biological sons was too great.  Peter and Meshack both asserted that they considered Ed a father, and that the arrangement was not breakable.  Although Peter and Meshack are going to school and are fully supported by Vic financially, their opinions as the men of the family still count for more than anything else.

So who is this Vic lady?  She looks amazing: she is tall, vibrant, funny, and endearing.  She can talk to anyone and make them feel at ease.  She is an African woman to the core.  She cuts to the core of every situation, with a purely Ghanaian perspective that is sharp but compassionate.  She has a story for every problem.  She believes in her God like no one I have ever met.  She has even adopted two more young children (Isaac and Peter, who I profiled recently here).  Her oldest son, Peter, is studying Construction Technology at Tamale Polytechnique and wants to do a Masters when he finishes.  Her middle son, Immanuel, almost has his certificate for plumbing and hopes to have his own plumbing shop and service one day.  Her youngest son, Meshack, just started his technical diploma in Visual Arts, and wants to be a preacher one day.  She makes less than 300 dollars a month, and yet makes every penny stretch…

Victoria came into the EWB fold three years ago when Sarah Lewis started working with her in Talensi Nabdem.  The next volunteer was Shea, who lived with Vic for a year.  For the past year I have lived with Vic.  Having interacted with dozens of EWB volunteers, and having become the unofficial EWB Ghana Mother to many, there was no question that this woman’s touch needed to extend further than Zuarungu.  Further than Ghana.  Further than Africa.

This year, Vic is going to the EWB annual conference in St. John’s, Nfld, in January.  She’ll be providing a keynote address in which she’ll no doubt masterfully portray her personal story as a reflection of the African story.  Vic’s warmth and charisma is going to flow into every delegate, and give them a glimpse at the depth of soul that Vic possesses.  I only wish I would be there to see it.  But then, tomorrow morning I know that I will rise to some early tea and bread with Vic.  I’ll probably be late for work, as often happens, because I have lost track of time as Vic and I chat about life’s rewards and regrets.  And then when I arrive home late at night, I will no doubt be greeted with a welcoming ‘pa-a-na, Meghan!’ and a warm plate of T-Zed… maybe I’ll just enjoy the present…