Soldabilidad

Shop – visited Shop – not visited Restaurant – visited Restaurant – not visited

4.1.2. Informal trading

What the above map does not reveal is the informal trade in Ghanaian foodstuffs in London, the magnitude of which is quite significant but difficult to tap in to. Apart from the shops and eating places, there were other means of buying Ghanaian food in London. Some of the Ghanaian traders supplying foodstuffs to stores and restaurants undertook private business as well, as the quote below highlights:

What I do is, I don’t buy it from the Ghana shops. There is a lady who comes, she brings foodstuffs from Ghana, so what I do is that when she comes then she calls me. ... She brings about 50 boxes of yam, 50 boxes of kenkey, she brings bread, spinach, smoked fish, salted beef, shrimps, pepper. She brings dried ones and the fresh ones and the powdered one as well. She brings it in a container and airfreights it. She’s got three shop keepers that she distributes them to. ... It’s a big business. .. She leaves some at home, at her daughter’s and you can go and buy it there. And she normally spends about five weeks here, when she comes. What she does is she buys old newspapers and airfreights it to Ghana as well. So it’s a buy and sell business. She brings her foodstuffs, buys newspapers, airfreights it to Ghana, sells the papers, and then buys foodstuffs again. Lillian (hhA, Fanti, 30+, 1989) 2nd, pg 244

Lillian had obtained foodstuffs in this manner during the ten years she had spent in the UK. Undoubtedly, she wasn’t the only one benefiting from this type of informal trading. In particular women appeared to be involved in trading food in this fashion. This is a continuation of the role of women as traders in Ghana (see section 4.2.2); what was once local and regional is now being done transnationally and is part of globalisation and the development of both economic and social transnational networks.

Furthermore, behind the four walls of Ghanaian homes, a dynamic cottage industry operated supplying shops and individuals with kenkey (i.e. Ga kenkey)70 and shito. I was only able to scrape the surface of this informal sector. I saw kenkey being made in one of the shops by the female shopkeeper and shop assistants but normally stores sourced the fermented corn dough balls from

70 _{Kenkey made in London was usually Ga kenkey wrapped in corn sheaths. Fanti kenkey wrapped}

kenkey-makers, who were usually women. I tried various avenues to gain access to observe a ‘kenkey-woman’ at work, but in vain, although many informants knew of someone in the business71_{. No doubt they were afraid that I was an} environmental health officer or some other official. Considering the number of shops selling kenkey, this cottage industry was booming in London72_{. Most likely} it had taken off on a larger scale after the industrial production of fermented corn dough, the main ingredient of kenkey, was started in the UK in the 1990s and when corn sheaths that cover the dough balls became available in Ghanaian shops73_.

I noticed that kenkey was available in some other ‘ethnic’ (i.e. non-Ghanaian) shops as well, indicating to the presence of Ghanaians in the area. Freshly made balls of kenkey in polythene bags were generally stored in thermos containers, keeping the dumplings warm for immediate consumption. In fact, none of the containers had signs on them and it took me a while to realise what they held. A number of informants, instead of buying balls of kenkey in shops, bought them directly from the producer. It appeared that the informal production and trade of kenkey in the UK is just as unregulated and unsupervised as it is in Ghana (Rocksloh-Papendieck, 1988).

71

As in Ghana, making kenkey was home-based and went well with family commitments. Yet as I did not speak to any kenkey women I can only draw on what other Ghanaians told me about them. A few informants maintained that the women who supplied them with kenkey only made the fermented corn dough balls as a source of side income, unlike women in Ghana for whom it was a full-time occupation (Rocksloh-Papendieck, 1988). For example, Deborah’s (hhF) friend worked full-time in a hair salon. She prepared kenkey in a big pot on the cooker at home, and was able to produce around 100 to 150 balls which she sold for 50 pence a ball. If this is true, then it was quite a gainful side job, the tax free profits easily covering the cost of the ingredients. This explains why so many women were in the business despite the very hard work.

72 _{See Rocksloh-Papendieck (1988) for an interesting study on the production and selling of kenkey}

in Ghana (includes an English summary).

73 _{Kenkey was produced in London prior to this but most likely on a smaller scale and not for sale in}

4.1.3. Shopping and identity

Although Ghanaian food served as a means for bringing Ghanaians together in enhancing Ghanaian, or even African identities, a closer look at their shopping and consumption habits revealed that they used the food they bought, and the places they shopped in, to articulate difference and distinctiveness within the Ghanaian or African community. Food shopping revealed the shifting nature of personal identities. Indeed, the Ghanaian community seemed to be quite diversified when it came to actually buying food, despite the increased availability of all things Ghanaian/African. Food was a marker of belonging, and of difference and boundaries.

For example, when talking about the availability of food in the past and their own shopping or consumption habits, informants often referred to the habits of other Ghanaians and at the same time distinguished themselves from them. It seemed as if Ghanaians who had lived in the country for some time did not want to be associated with those who had lived here for only a short while. There were various reasons for this, such as different educational levels or motives for migration74_{. Food served as a marker of difference (Bourdieu, 1984).}

Now go to Shepherd’s Bush this Friday, go to any Indian shop this Friday, the

varieties of food you see! People have recently come in they don’t know! They

think it’s what has been all the time. I say no, it is not, it is now. Middle 80s coming to 90s that is what you see. Caroline (hhJ, Ashanti/Fanti, 44, 1973) 2nd_,

pg 886

The recent migrants did not know about the hardship earlier migrants had endured in regard to food, especially those who did not receive regular food parcels from home. Those who had arrived in the 1990s had not been confronted with the same sort of neophobia (fear of the unknown) (Fischler, 1988) as the early migrants. Recent migrants were either acquainted with European fruit and

74 _{A number of recent migrants are in the country illegally which is comparable to the situation in the}

vegetables whilst in Ghana, as they had become available there over the years, or they simply did not have to resort to them as the variety of African produce was so good in London.

Ghanaian or not?

However, despite the increase in availability, the price of Ghanaian or West African foodstuffs had not necessarily decreased as much as one might have expected. This may be because of the increase in demand; there were more Ghanaians and other West Africans wanting the same produce. Prices varied according to location, being cheaper in north London, where there were also more ethnic food stores. Most informants appeared, however, to consider the cost of food and hence restricted the amount of Ghanaian food they purchased, for example, by buying it only when in season or in bulk.

I don’t normally buy yams. Occasionally when it comes new like August the fresh yam comes and then maybe I’ll go to the market and buy the box and I get it reasonably cheap. So yeah we eat it at the time. When it gets expensive I don’t buy them because if I buy one small tube of yam for maybe three pounds you know I can buy a bag of potato for that. So I always think of .. it tastes the same

almost so what’s the point. So I’ve never been sort of that type. Carol (hhO,

Akuapim, 40+, 1989) 1st, pg 703

It’s [gardeneggs] available all the time. But because it’s seasonal, here it tends to be expensive at certain times. So when it’s less expensive I tend to buy it in bulk, cook it all up and freeze it. Gloria (hhB, Fanti, 45+, 1978) 1st, pg 585

Buying in bulk was a common habit among the informants; a few did so jointly with friends. Yet, as the above examples show, many would avoid buying foodstuffs altogether when the prices were too high. Some foods were always expensive, therefore many would go without.

Back home they have a way of smoking the fish and it tastes good. It tastes good but when they bring it over here it’s too expensive. I cannot afford it, honestly. So, I don’t buy it. All that I buy is maybe plantain and, you know, kenkey I get a friend to do it for me and that’s about all for now. Evelyn (hhI, Fanti, 46, 1983) 2nd, pg 618

Others bought only little amounts. Nevertheless, there were others who purchased Ghanaian foods whatever the price.

Of course I know some people who would not eat any un-African, it has to be Ghanaian. I wonder how they manage. Unless they bragging they’re lying. They say it as a status thing you know. ‘cos you know Ghanaian food is expensive. ... I think they are boasting because they say that ‘Oh I don’t eat any Western food, I eat only Ghana food.’ Something like a status symbol to them. But on the other hand, if they’re not lying then I think they’re doing very well to be able to maintain that level, not have anything else apart from Ghanaian food whilst living in this country. I think it’s very expensive and very time consuming. So I wonder how they’re able to do it. Gladys (hhN, Ashanti/Krobo, 48, 1984) 1st, pg 460

For example, household G didn’t seem to mind paying more for Ghanaian produce. The parents in this household had been in the UK for nearly seven years and their teenaged children had only arrived very recently. When I spoke to Abby, whose English wasn’t good and whose income derived from cleaning, she indicated that she would buy Ghanaian food even when the foodstuffs were out of season and hence very expensive:

I buy, I buy, a little, I like it [laughs] it’s my cultural food, I can buy. Abby (hhG, Ashanti, 40+, 1993) 1st, pg 125

Someone else commented that there were Ghanaians who would rather use all their wages on Ghanaian food than go without it. She then went on to say that Ghanaians were a very hard working community, indicating the well known fact that many Ghanaians had more than one job. In other words, Ghanaians had money, and even if it wasn’t such a great deal, some were prepared to spend it on relatively expensive foods, hence avoiding substitutes and other European foods. A similar kind of cultural adherence was demonstrated by Sharma et al. (1999) studying British African-Caribbeans (first and second generation) living in inner-city Manchester. African-Caribbeans who adhered more to traditional foods and diet had lower incomes than those reporting a more westernized diet, but they still chose to spend more of their income on the more expensive Caribbean foods. Diner also notes how early Italian migrants in America bought expensive imported olive oil (from Italy or Argentina), despite being poor, defining it as a necessity and essential to Italian identity (Diner, 2001: 60).

When analysing the data more closely, it appeared that in two-parent households with fathers present, the tendency to buy Ghanaian foods was higher.

The Dad always buys it ‘cos the children like it so, and he likes it. What will you eat, rice rice rice. Rice is too much here, so they eat rice rice rice. But you have to buy it occasionally, the Dad doesn’t eat fufu, so he can’t be eating rice all the time. So you have to buy this expensive yam or plantain or cocoyam or something just to balance his food a bit. So he does buy it, but so it depends on the time. Now it’s coming down I think, so it’s a bit cheap. Caroline (hhJ, Ashanti/Fanti, 44, 1973) 2nd_{, pg 906}

Evelyn who indicated above that she never bought smoked fish, did so when her husband was still alive:

HT: In the beginning, did you?

Evelyn: I used to yeah. My husband was the homely type. He was very fussy with his food. He liked the real Ghanaian things so that’s why I used to but since he died, I don’t because I can do without it. The kids are not bothered. I’m not bothered so yeah. Evelyn (hhI, Fanti, 46, 1983) 2nd_{, pg 651-3}

Similarly, Elisabeth bought Ghanaian foods only when her husband who lived in Ghana came over to London to join her on holidays:

So I don’t make it a point of going shopping like she [Joyce] does on Saturdays to get all Ghanaian foodstuffs and bring it home. I don’t. My habits have changed because of my family circumstances here. But when my husband comes on holidays I cook a lot of Ghanaian meals. Elisabeth (hhQ, Ashanti, 49, 1972) 1st_,

pg 197

No doubt the inclination to buy typical Ghanaian foods was facilitated by a joint income, which was lacking in single parent households, yet this revealed gender differences in consumption habits and in the perceived need for traditional foods for the wellbeing of male household heads.

Considering shopping habits, it seemed that many Ghanaians were now willing to demonstrate their ethnic identities far more openly than earlier (see section 4.2) and buying typical Ghanaian food was seen as an important means of doing so. As the informant above indicated, buying and eating Ghanaian food was possibly a matter of status, but it was not necessarily linked to high income, or high educational levels, although facilitated by the former. Some Ghanaians were using Ghanaian food as a means to attest the superiority of their own (ethnic)

identities in relation to those of other Ghanaians, or other (West) Africans, for that matter.

Places and identities

Although other West African, primarily Nigerian, stores were opening up and stocking similar items to Ghanaian shops, I was told that if Ghanaians had the choice, they preferred going to Ghanaian shops. Apparently, Ghanaians did not like being taken for Nigerians, revealing a division in the West African community, despite their shared African identities.

I know people shop in Eugenia’s shop because it’s Ghanaian and there are certain things that they would like from there. You know. They would equally get it in the Nigerian shop but they won’t want to go there. They’ll go to Eugenia to buy it. Serwa (hhM, Ewe, 50, 1969) 2nd_{, pg 679}

The above informant, however, like many of the others partaking in the study, was prepared to buy food in any shop.

I don’t go for any particular shop, the Ghanaian shops or anything. If I need peppers I look around. Where I see them I buy it there. If I go for plantain I just look for the nicest one. Serwa (hhM, Ewe, 50, 1969) 2nd, pg 679

Gloria: But in a lot of the Asian shops around here and West Indian shops you can get Ghanaian foods.

HT: Would you actually buy from any of these shops?

Gloria: Oh so long as the price is right I don’t care who sells them. Gloria (hhB, Fanti, 45+, 1978) 1st/2, pg 1329

Some did not hesitate to by-pass Ghanaian ones altogether. Pauline lived near Brixton market, a hub of Ghanaian and other West African food, yet she avoided Ghanaian stalls and shops, as she thought they were more expensive than Indian and Pakistani shops. The yam and plantain she bought,

it’s always from the Indian shop anyway. And the kenkey from Indian shop. ‘Cos it’s big. Pauline (hhH, Ga/Fanti, 36, 1987) 3rd_{, pg 144}

As there was an increase in choice in regard to Ghanaian shops, some paid particular attention to which one they frequented.

HT: Which ones do you go to if you buy something Ghanaian?

John: There’s this one that I’ve just seen at Edmonton, it looks very good, and she looks clean and the food there looks well taken care of, so I’ll be going there more often.

HT: All that way?

John: Yeah! if I think this place that the shop’s clean and everything I’ll go there, I don’t care where it is, you know how far or how long it takes me to get there, I’ll get there. And if things there don’t look very clean, maybe next (time) I just wouldn’t go there. [laughs] That’s all.

HT: Are there Ghanaian shops that you wouldn’t go to in London?

John: Yeah there’s one on Green Lane, West Green Road that I wouldn’t go. John (hhJ, Fanti, 55+, 1965) 1st_{, pg 993-1004}

Cleanliness was an issue mentioned by a few other informants as well, and by doing so they were reacting like many other consumers when choosing a place to shop (Ellaway & Macintyre, 2000). By avoiding less well kept stores they were also distancing themselves from the clientele who opted to shop in such places, thus making a statement of their own difference. One of the older informants, who like John had migrated to the UK in the early years, indicated that he would never go to Brixton market, highlighting strong divisions in the black British community:

I mean I belong to a class. Where there are too many blacks I don’t go there. Because they think you are one of them. ... It’s too rough you see. And as a polling service officer I’ve got to watch where I go as well. If I go to the community I must make sure I’m invited either officially or the person is a family friend or a