colorblind

I feel as though my eyes aren’t working correctly. I feel like I’m seeing in black and white. I went from spectacular sunsets, breathtaking ocean views, reddish-brown soils, vibrant markets, and the most colorful fabrics on earth to grey-scale landscapes—dead trees, stark-white snow, and endless grey roads.

Home, Sweet(bitter) Home

I’ve been home for a week now. I guess you could say I had a bit of reverse culture shock. Surprisingly, I did jump back into the routine more easily than I had imagined. Sometimes I even feel like the last four months in Ghana were a dream—some distant fantasy in the back of slowly wakening mind.
It’s cliché but I was very much feeling bitter-sweet about my return home. Incredibly sad to be leaving the life that I had built in Ghana but excited to get home to the life I had put on pause. The night I left Ghana there was an intense downpour of rain. Friends who were all packed were relaxing watching the angry sky throw magnificent bolts of lightening. I, however, had no time to relax and reminisce. I spent most my last day getting my hair twisted and then rushing home to finish packing.
Sitting in the salon chair in the middle of the market as my hair was getting pulled every-which-way, I felt so incredibly odd. Odd because I could feel my valuable last moments in Ghana ticking away. Odd because I had a hundred things I needed to be doing but could only sit. Odd because I was forced to sit and think about leaving Ghana. Knowing that it might be my last day in Ghana for the rest of my life is immensely sad. But mark my words--whether it be in 5, 10, or 30 years—I will return.
My roommate Edna, Sharon, and Queenstar all helped me pack and with last minute things. I will really miss the three of them.
After goodbyes, Meagan and I shared a cab to the airport. Our driver’s car broke down after one block so he arranged another cab for us. He was a very nice guy and we know he told the cab driver to take us for the same price we agreed to pay him. However, after arriving at the airport the driver asked for more money then we had agreed on. ((By the way, the airport is an extremely intense place for foreigners; people are always trying to take advantage of the naïve traveler.)) Meagan and I refused to give him his extra money and then things got VERY HEATED. He grabbed Meagan’s arm and demanded we give him more money. We started yelling at him to never touch her. Then he took her bag as some sort of bargaining tool. We were both outraged! There were literally over 5 airport guards within 10 feet of us and none of them were doing anything! I grabbed the bag from him and told Meagan to go into the airport. I told the man to leave us alone, drive away and search for his remaining decency. We had lived in Ghana and we were not about to be taken advantage of.
We rubbed off the incident, though slightly traumatic. Our terminals were at different ends of the airport so we parted ways.
My flight route was from Accra, Ghana, to Frankfurt, Germany to Chicago to Milwaukee. My total travel time took over 30 hours. There was a delay in Frankfurt, which made me miss my connecting flight to Milwaukee from Chicago. I had a three hour layover which I passed sitting at the airport bar. Bad decision considering I missed that the terminal had changed and ultimately missed my second flight. They wait-listed me for another flight that left in a couple more hours. Thankfully, there was room and I was finally able to leave the damn O’hare airport.
During all the long hours at the airport I remember thinking how weird it was to be surrounded by people the same color as me. To put it frankly, I missed black people. I missed looking at their hair, their bright clothes, the way they moved so gracefully. I remember at the airport bar the CNN news was on the T.V. and they were talking about snowstorms sweeping across the states and recent bombings and murders. As I was watching the anchorwomen and all the bad news she was spilling out of her mouth, I remember I had a gut instinct to jump on the nearest plane that would bring me closer to Ghana.

nearing the end

People ask me all the time why I chose to come to Ghana; why I chose Africa. Any question that is asked over and over again is bound to get slightly annoying, at least to me, but it is more than redundancy that makes me uncomfortable with the question. I feel as though, if I would have chosen to go somewhere, say a European country, the tone of that question would be different, if asked at all. But who can blame them for wanting to know why—why I, a white American, choose to study in a black developing country. The truth of the matter is that I am not exactly sure why I came here; what drew me to a country so different than my own. Ever since I was young, something about the vast continent of Africa intrigued me. Of course my images of Africa were skewed, shaped solely by the media, but perhaps that’s just it—I wanted to see Ghana for myself. This wonder, inspired by my ignorance, may have motivated me to travel to Ghana. After all, aren’t humans driven by curiosity? But I know this is not the full explanation.
I am conflicted by this sense of guilt, as a middle-class American with a world of opportunities available to me, living in a world where people are suffering. I want to help people, to better the world in some small but heroic way (if only for selfish motives). But there is poverty, natural disasters, and discrimination inflicting my own homeland. Plus, I would have come here as volunteer worker if I truly had been driven by a desire to “develop” Africa. But I didn’t, I came to Ghana as a student, a student attempting to learn more about a culture; a culture that led Africa in the movement for independence. Ghana is a dynamic country with a rich history where a sort of dualism (if not pluralism) exists. This dualism is found in the haunting past of colonialism paired with the redefined sense of freedom and a conflicting search for identity. It is found in the mixing of traditions with modernization. It is in this fragile balance of ideologies that I find myself, as a foreigner, in a challenging position. It is impossible for me to see Ghana as it truly exists because I am seeing Ghana through the perspective of a Westerner. I cannot simply take my tinted shades off because to do so would mean to rewrite my past. But to truly attempt to understand Ghana, I must try to do it exactly that. As I near the end of my stay here in Ghana, reflecting on my experience, I wonder how I could have made better use of my time. Perhaps I should have better plunged myself into Ghana’s culture. Maybe I should have better avoided my instinct to homogenize. But the very fact that I am critically asking myself these questions reveals to me that my world view has been expanded. I now truly feel comfortably with saying I have cultural relativism.
Living abroad has challenged me to step outside my boundaries. There have been times that I felt home sick, times that I felt annoyed with “Ghanaian hospitality,” times when I thought I would pass out from the heat, times when I craved hot showers—but I survived it all. In fact, I did more then survive it, I embraced it and the uncomfortable stages have only made me more humble. I have found a whole new appreciation for diversity—not just in Ghana but in the unique experience of living in an international hostel. The other day, as I was sitting around a dinner table, I realized how blessed it was to be given this unique opportunity. I was sitting at a table with friends from all over the world—China, France, Sudan, Pakistan, Norway, Japan.
With globalization and assimilation (combined with imperialism) our identity—who am I?—is the question that conflicts many of us. As an American who’s parents and grandparents were born in America my search for self is not displaced in some Diaspora but in my industrialized, capitalistic, individualistic homeland I search for my identity nonetheless. Without a doubt these experiences has shaped me and help me understand more about myself.
One can never step into the same river twice because the water that flows through its streams is never the same. People are like rivers in this sense. Time changes everyone; we are constantly evolving. When I return home I will see through new shades. There are things from Ghanaian culture that I hope to adopt in my life back home, like being less individualized and friendlier with strangers, taking the time to help someone on the streets and really getting to know people whom I may have previously never have gotten a chance to speak with.
If I could sum up what I learned having lived abroad, it would be that the world is vastly more complex than anyone can imagine and it is filled with unique individuals but at the core of it all we are all people with universal emotions and our similarities outnumber our differences. Our differences should be embraced but in universal harmony. So while I may never know why exactly I came to Ghana, I do know that I do not regret the decision to come whatsoever. Studying abroad has helped me see myself and the world through clearer lenses.

3 exams down, one more to go

Today I had my first real exam that wasn’t USAC (my study-abroad program) designed.I find it odd that they run exams on Sunday's, especially when a lot of shops are closed on Sundays and with church and all. It was trickier than I had imagined. It was all essay questions and one of the questions, the one that weighed the most, was worded very oddly. It was down-pouring and lightening during the final and the room we were in, like most of the classrooms here, was very open to the outside which made it awesome.

During the exam I got a huge craving for Italian food so I convinced Queen Star to go with me to Mama Mia’s, a restaurant downtown. There, we had a very snobby waitress and Queen Star was getting annoyed. I found it interesting because the server was Ghanaian and every time I talked she looked only at Queen Star, who is also Ghanaian. Even with giving me the soda I ordered, she’d put it in front of Queen Star. We all have prejudices i guess.

Snakes, stealing monkeys, and phantoms—Oh my!

Last weekend Meagan, Corbett, Ric and I went to the country of Benin. Benin is a francophone country and in many ways similar to Togo. Most everyone if Benin practices some form of Voodoo or juju. In a period of 12 hours we traveled by trotro through 3 African countries. We stayed the first night in Benin in the city of Ouidah. Our hotel was nothing great but it was in the center of the village and had this quaint little rooftop seating where we spent the first night talking and enjoying the view of the village and the sky.

The next morning we walked to the “temple of Pythons” where we found a zillion (well probably like a hundred or two) pythons. I think at one point I had like 6 snakes all up on me. I wasn’t afraid at all, I’m pretty use to Ball Pythons, but I can’t say the same for the rest of the group. Eventually everyone felt comfortable embracing the snakes. The temple we were at was built largely for tourism, but we were told that the villagers believe the snakes to be sacred and thus they are protected.

Walking around we happened to find ourselves caught in the middle of a voodoo parade with hundreds of people marching through the streets. There were a few people in elaborate customs dressed as Phantoms. The phantoms go around chasing people and the people literally look like they are running for their lives to escape the phantoms touch. One Phantom was very close to Ric and I, and all of a sudden started running our way. Luckily, there was a tree between us and just as fast as he appeared he vanished back into the mass of people. Parades like this happen often on the weekends.

That same day we traveled to Grand Popo and stayed at a hotel on the beach. When Ric and I were sitting by the ocean we noticed an SUV driving along the shore. As the vehicle passed us, a group of 4 men waved to us. After they passed, about 40 seconds and 30 feet later, they got stuck in the sand for quite some time. One of the passengers, as the driver tried to maneuver his way through the sand, came over and talked to us. We did the usual casual chitchat and then he told us we should stop by their hotel later for dinner. About an hour or two later they came back with their car and told us we should come now. We all said what the hell and went with them. Their hotel was about 10 times nicer then ours. The four men were from Lebanon and did business in Benin. They were all a lot older but very nice. As it turned out, the dinner was more of an elaborate home-made picnic and they made traditional Lebanese food. There was fish that was caught fresh that day, salad, this pita thingy, and fresh pineapple juice. We sat by the fire outside eating and smoking hookah. I would have liked to stay longer but Meagan wasn’t feeling well so we headed back to our hotel.
I love the fact that I can sit by the shore and my night can turn into something unexpected like that. I like befriending strangers and being guided by open possibilities. I felt, and I’m sure the other girls did too, a lot safer having Ric with us. But really, people in this part of the world are just friendlier and most have good intentions. People are so interesting and if you take chances, you’ll understand what I mean.

The next morning we went on a two hour canoe ride through a stilt village. This community revolved around fishing and it was so interesting to see the fishermen (and women) and their nets. As we passed some of the homes we saw little children playing a game with phantoms. It’s something you don’t think about everyday, but it was neat to see how children from different cultures “play.”

Because our visas only allowed us two days in Benin we spent the third night in Togo. We were told about this small hotel close to the border that was nice. It turned out to be a pretty awesome find. The lobby of the hotel was decorated in some of the most beautiful African art I have seen. There were also pet monkeys! There was this little monkey (I think she was a mono monkey) named Suzy. At times she could be super sweet and at other times she was a bitch but all the while she was cute. She stole Meagan’s sunglasses and put them on and she try stealing whatever she could get her hands on. She’d sometimes bite us pretty hard too. Other times she’d lie on my lap and cuddle with me. She slept with a blanky, adorable!
Not visible to guests, but since we befriended a guy who lived there, we were able to see the baboon pet. She was female and had a great dislike for other females. She was not in the lobby because she’d throw rocks at the guests. I tired to get closer to her and in return I got a face full of sand. She did however like males, and Ric was able to shake her hand. The guy told us that she has gotten lose a few times and when she does she goes about the village stealing babies from mothers and when the mothers try to get their children back she hits them. She’s very gentle with the babies and I guess the act stems from her great desire to be a mother. It’s very sad in a way.

On the way back home we opted to take the big bus instead of a trotro. Bad idea! The bus made so many long stops and then we got a flat tired and had to wait around for a new one. Also, during a checkpoint in Ghana, a police guard asked for our passports on the buss (clearly our skin color shouts foreigner!) and made us get off the bus so he could record our information down in his log book. To make matters worse, ric and I had about the worse seat on the bus. The windows were set up so out of a three rows, the middle row’s window couldn’t slide open. We sat in the middle, which wouldn’t have been that bad if the person in front of behind us wanted their windows open! I tried several times to get the window opened but they kept sliding it back. I sweating more then I’ve sweated in a sauna. Eventually, as the bus picked up speed I could feel the faint air from distant windows. It was a long trip back but I’ve grown to appreciate the self-reflection that occurs on long trips.