"100 friends in three days" (the country where it is quite possible; defining 'professional friends')

In the South (U.S.) we're always talking about our famous "Southern Hospitality." We're supposed to be more welcoming and friendlier towards strangers and visitors than in other parts of the country (i.e. the North). Never having been much of a stranger wherever I go in the U.S., I'll not confirm or deny it.
But here, it's undeniable. And at times, even overwhelming. Still, sometimes, maddening. Ghanaians' missions in life, besides going to America, is to meet everyone in the world.
The procedure:
You're walking (fast or slow, doesn't matter).
You hear "Obroni!" (translation, "white man")
You turn and shout "Obibini" ("black man")
They smile, and friendship is secured.
Then the secret handshake (it's really surprising how universal this is; first, shake, then release and shake at a 90 degree angle, then release as you snap middle fingers.)
"Wo din de sen?" (what is your name)
"Me din de James?"
...
...
...
"Do you have a phone?"
...(in some circumstances you may lie, "no", but then be ready to either write down his number or give him yours or else lie and say you can't remember it)
[Aside: if you decide not to provide means of communication, you will be required to provide some assurance that he will see you again - i.e. "I pass this way every day" or "I'm sure I'll be back sometime/someday". Only if and when this assurance is accepted may you then proceed to the departure stage.]
Assuming you have exchanged numbers:
"Okay, I'll flash you."
[Aside: as you might have guessed, "flashing" has a totally different meaning here. Flashing is simply calling someone without speaking to them so that you can exchange numbers. It is also a way of showing affection: if you're thinking of someone, let them know by flashing them. At the same time it is sometimes also used to communicate to somebody that you wish to talk to them but you've run out of credits: please call me back]
Departure Stage:
"Nice to meet you"
Do the shake. [Note: depending on the excitement level of your correspondent, shaking during the previous conversation may never have ceased. It is customary to either continue holding hands, or repeating the secret shake at 30 second intervals throughout the conversation.]
"Ye beshia bio" ("We will meet again." Another assurance that he will indeed see you again, even if you're thinking otherwise.)

And there it is. That's mainly how it's done. And with limited variation. The most popular questions are "Where are you from?" and "How do you find Ghana?"

You WOULDN'T believe the frequency at which this occurs. Just before coming to this lab, I sat down for some lunch at an outdoor market. And I met Francis (a 300-level, entrepreneuring spirit) and Dictus, his friend. We exchanged numbers. He'll probably call within the next day just to prove that our meeting was significant and he hasn't forgotten me. But most of the time, beyond this, it's just another number in your cell phone. But at least you know who's calling when a month or two later you get a call just out of the blue.

The phone numbers I've collected this far (in my phone and on papers) have to amount to more than a hundred. Keep in mind that I don't exchange numbers with most people I meet. While you don't necessary meet 33.3 people per day (as the title would make you believe), it would certainly be more than possible if you even half-way committed to proactively meeting people. For me, meeting people constantly is tiring so I take a more reactive approach and allow them to come to me (and they do). Most days I average five; several days a weeks, it's 10. When I travel, 25.

Furthermore, certain things affect the frequency of friendship initiations. For example, walking alone. I meet a lot fewer people when I'm walking with friends. Being a girl is probably another; but this is probably because the friendship pursuers are looking for more than friendship. Also, I seem to attract a lot of attention in smaller villages. When I went with a friend to a wedding in a village outside Kumasi, I was surrounded. And I made lots of friends.

There are two main problems for me (there are more for girls) when it comes to meeting strangers.
1. When you give out your phone number, you are always running the risk that your new correspondent is serious about keeping in touch. If so, you may be subject to 5-6 calls per day, and sometimes as many as 13.
2. When you meet someone, your new friendship status is binding. That means that if by chance you do come across this fellow again and you can't remember his name, there will be some tension. (Names are important here - more later). "Please, can you remind me of your name?" The next time you see him and forget, the consequences may be more serious - utter disappointment, shame. They're thinking "Why can't this white man not remember my name? I thought we shook!" So you may have supplement your request for his name with some Twi (a local language which cheers them up when it is used by foreigners). "Mi pachow (I beg of you), what is your name?"

Real quickly, let's rationalize why Ghanaians always remember and obroni (white man, referring to any foreigner- any color) always forget. This is what goes through my head when I am flat-out accused of belittling someone by not remembering their name: First, my personal mental capacity does not grant me the space to store 10 names per day. Second, just who is meeting 10 people/day?! Not you. I'm probably the only foreigner you've seen in weeks! Third, how do you people expect me to remember faces when you all have the same haircut. (Except for Rastafarians, Ghanaians all keep a low buzz to avoid the socially unacceptable fro.) Of course you can remember me. I stick out like a sore thumb!

It is because I am constantly accused of forgetting people's names that I have discovered a part of their language that I can use as a weapon against them. For some reason, I didn't pick it up until recently: Ghanaians have several ways of getting peoples' attention, including but not limited to 1.) hissing loudly (sounds like "Tssss"), 2.) use of "hey boss" or "hey chief", and 3.) use of "challey" (do you like how systematic I make this for you?). These last two are my weapons. So when I can't remember their name, it's going to be "oooo challey!" (challey=my friend)

Finally, being that this is my post on friendship, I would be neglecting an entire dimension of friendship if I left out what is called "professional friendship." We shall define this as a highly suspicious form of friendship (on the one side) which is most probably initiated for the pursuit of monetary beneficiating (on the other side). (By the way, Ghanaians like definitions, for everything. On the first day of class we defined "land" and then "land use" and then "land use planning" and then "water" and ...). Professional frienships are a business here and professional friends are in business for you and their methods are clever (cleverness only a free market economy can promote). For example, I met Kofi while walking to the library. First he gained my trust. "Oh yes, I am a student. Here is my student ID." He knew that people are slow to trust you without proper identification, so he whipped it out of his pocket. Then, upon learning my major, he told me about his small farm in Madina and about all the types of agriculture around the country. He kept me interested for over half an hour before I succeeded in breaking away. And as I broke away, his professionalism unveiled itself. "I want to take you to travel around the country." He told me about the crocodile ponds where you can pet tamed (chicken-satisfied) crocs and a bunch of other real phony touristy gizmos (more on this later)... "We will go this weekend!" I'll save you from the rest - his hampering that I commit to going with him and my avoiding any promises. To make a long story short, he stalked me for three weeks - calling me all the time and somehow running into me all the time on campus (remember, student population =30,000). He was always trying to get me to go traveling with him. When I met him the third week, having gained some understanding of professional frienship since our first meeting, I straight-out asked him his intentions. I knew he was a married man with one kid, barely enough money to continue university education, and problems at home in maintaining a profitable small-farm. Why in the world would he want to take me traveling, which requires money and time he didn't have? ...Kofi's baby was one year old and still without a name. ...So NAME the DANG BABY WHY DON'T YOU! ...This might not make sense to you nor did it to me, but you don't get a name until you have a naming ceremony. And naming ceremonies cost money, an unreasonable sum of money. It's a miracle so many Ghanaians have names! I could tell you more, but the important thing is that professional friends are your friends for a reason, some concealed reason. Kofi needed money for his tour guide skills, which were lacking- but at least he has an entrepreneuring spirit. (Can't always say that for poor people in the U.S.) There's been other professional friends ...Kabu really really wanted to do my laundry. Really badly.