Before I left for Tamale, Ghana, I was told that it might happen. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it though. The flash of a Cheshire grin exuding coolness (the kind equipped to mask fear or hesitancy in the face of a challenge or imminent danger) was my only response to my Ghanaian brother's forewarning. I spoke with some (female) friends (in America) about it and they applauded the openness that accompanied my ambivalence towards it. “Well at least you haven’t taken a stance against it…that says a lot about you…” Umm, yeah but it doesn’t make me feel any easier about it.
It = holding hands (heretofore abbreviated as HH)
a common act of friendship between men in Tamale, Ghana.
In American culture, extreme acts of manliness do not include handholding with other men. Physical expressions of male-to-male non-aggressive behavior are allowed in limited contexts – father/son relationships, athletic championships (its okay, even expected, to weep like a child when you win the Super Bowl), and in extreme cases, the death of a relative. In fact, holding hands with members of the opposite sex in public spaces is often regarded as a chore. But I’m not in America anymore. According to my Ghanaian hosts, homosexuality is not openly practiced in Tamale. However, behaviors Americans stereotypically ascribed to homosexuals do occur in my new environment.
HH Encounter #1: We were greeted by a small contingent of Dagbani folks representing Sister Cities in Tamale. Upon our arrival in northern Ghana Saturday morning, the notion of guy love took was initiated. An elder member of the delegation reached for my hand to shake it and welcome me to Tamale. In a sudden act of discreet precision, the handshake morphed into him guiding me by the hand towards the rest of the group. The manly man inside of me released his hand and grabbed hold of my cool. I was on hand guard patrol for the rest of the day but I wasn’t prepared for my next encounter.
HH Encounter #2: During my time here, I have made friends with a Dagbani man of my age. We have grown to be fast friends and share a lot of interests. One day walking through the Zo-Simli Naa Palace, we were joking about some things as men often do. We slapped hands (a ritual that appears to be a universal sign of male peers) after a good laugh and it happened again. The Dagbani men are swift in their execution! I found myself walking with my friend hand in hand for paces through the palace. It doesn’t last long like a nice walk in the park or anything, but it’s lengthy enough to recognize that this XY chromosome carrier has my hand.
I’ve given a lot of thought to the cultural significance of the act. Male friends of all ages can be found walking hand in hand with little regard for any misinterpretation of their relationship. It is an act of friendship. I’m still debating on where to draw the line or whether a line needs to be drawn at all in this regard. If I am to call this man my friend, do I reject his hand when he reaches for mine? While the story unfolds, I’ll leave you with this memorable moment from Scrubs the musical. Time for some jolof rice!
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