First Day Teaching and Fufu

I woke up this morning and thought, "Well, this is it, my first day teaching Ghanain students." And teaching is what it was. I got to the school around 9:30 (the school day starts at 8:15, but I figured they'd be fine without me for an hour or so) and went to Cynthia's classroom. Well, Cynthia was not there (she told me she didn't come to school a lot), but Auntie Adua was there finishing up her lesson on Ga. Once she was done with that, it was time for me and my English. I didn't feel comfortable leaving the book on the first day (I didn't really have anything else in mind, and I didn't know if we could actually teach outside of the book). First we read a short passage about road accidents. It was... well, it was what it was. I asked for volunteers to read. About four students raised their hands, and throughout the class, only about six or seven students would raise their hands, and only two students would raise their hands pretty much all the time (that's so me!). When no one who hadn't read raised their hand, I decided to call on a random student. I waited for her to start reading. She wouldn't. I told her not to be shy, to just stand up and read. Then Auntie Adua said, "She cannot read. Call on someone else."

During the students' break, I learned that a lot of students can't read. I was talking to the other English teacher whose name escapes me right now, and she was telling me that not all the students enter grade school from the very beginning. I should explain that all public education in Ghana is taught in English, while no one actually grows up with English as a native language (unless, I suppose, a parent knows English and decides to teach their child early on, before schooling... but even then, Ghanains first language will not be English). So students learn all their English at school. The teacher was explaining to me that many students come from small villages where they don't take education very seriously, and so when their families move here, they are put into Grade 3, 4, 5, 6 and so on because of their age, even if their abilities are not up to that grade. So while there are several students in the class I teach who can read very well, there are some students who cannot read at all, and who can't really even speak much English at all. I find this very unfortunate, but a country with so many different languages need a lingua franca. There are about 30 different ethnic groups in Ghana, each with their own language or dialect. Most Ghanains know more than one language, some of them lots and lots of languages (Auntie Adua, for example, speaks Ga, Twi, Fante, English, and I think one or two more languages). Twi is pretty common, at least in the southern half of the country, because it is the language of the Ashantis, the largest ethnic group in Ghana (the Ashantis used to have an empire that is larger than Ghana is today). So back to my orignial point, a country with so many languages need a common language, and I suppose for most African nations the easiest solution is to use the language of the country that ruled them in colonial times. For one, many would have learned this language when they were colonized. Two, these languages (English, French, Portuguese, etc.) are major languages of commerce worldwide, so it makes sense to try to students to learn one of these languages. But what happens to those who don't? They may be very intelligent, but they don't have a chance of making it in school. It's really sad. I mentioned to the English teacher the possibility of starting some sort of after-school remedial reading program, for students who never had the chance to learn the basics. She liked the idea, but she told me it would be hard to get students to actually come to it. So I think I might consult with the head teacher and maybe see if any fellow students have ideas for how to carry it out. I'm not thinking of anything too complicated, just maybe 30 or 45 minutes after school to go over some of the basics of reading and English. Otherwise, I'm teaching and the students will never know what's going on and they'll just get further and further and further behind. And I think it sucks when students fall behind because of circumstance, especially when it's because of language. Many students in America fall behind simply because they come from a country that doesn't speak English. Many children who speak African American English also fall behind because of language barriers. (Although in both of those cases, discrimination plays a part as well). So hopefully I can help some of these students. At least I'll try...

So after the reading passage, there were ten vocabulary words that were used in the passage. Most of the students did not know what they were. There were words like "automotive," "inadequate," "impoverished," "insufficient," "woefully" (who the hell says "woefully" these days?), "prosecute," and a few others. This was easy enough. I explained the words to the best of my ability, offering examples and pointing out their uses in the reading passage. Then after that, there were a few questions about the reading passage, really simple questions. The students were not answering them very well, though. The question would be worded the exact same way as one of the 12 or 13 sentences in the passage, and they would not be able to tell me an answer. Eventually we made it through, though, and they wrote the answers down in their little exercise books. (Overall, I'd say their textbook SUCKS and I'd really like to not teach from it, but we'll see how things go). Then we did a little grammar lesson on quantifiers. Basically it was just a lesson (if you could call it that) on the words "more" and "many." The book didn't even point out the difference between the words, though. It was really stupid. So I explained to the students that the word "more" is used for comparisons and the word "many" is used just to denote a large amount. It's really hard for me to know if the students actually understand the lesson or not because I'm not really aware of their level of English or how well they can understand my accent. To compensate, I tried my best to speak loudly, slowly, and with much diction. I think they can understand me well enough, although sometimes I'm not sure what they are saying. For the last 30 minutes of the school day, I went over to the 6th grade class (which apparently also did not have a teacher... what's up with this school?) and we did a little reading passage together. This class was definitely more advanced in their reading and speaking skills, and they were also more eager to volunteer. I did not get to work with Grade 4 today, but hopefully soon I will. I'm not sure what will come of this semester, but so far it seems as though I'm going to be a teacher instead of a teacher's assistant. (Other students have informed me that there situations are similar. Jackie told me the first day she walked into the classroom and the teacher said to the students, "Sit! This is Madam Jackie. She is now going to teach you." Then he sat back and she taught the class. Kenneth warned us that teachers would do this to us.). I'm actually fine with the situation, but aren't two teachers better than one? We'll see...

After school, I went to a little fruit stand right by the school and bought some pineapples and oranges. Then I walked a little further and saw Jackie, Danae, and Debora sitting with a few teachers from the school (La Yahoushua, if I didn't mention that) at a little place called "The Yellow Spot." Here is where I had my first fufu, which is sort of like the dish here... like hamburgers in America or falafel in the Middle East. Fufu is mashed up yams and/or plaintains and/or cassava in a soup. I had mine in a peanut soup with tuna. Some of the students who have tried it say they don't like it, but personally, I thought it was pretty amazing. The texture is unlike anything I've ever had before... it's got a marshmellow-like feeling but its a bit more condensed. You can just take a big handful, put it in your mouth, swallow it, and it just sort of slides down your throat. The fufu doesn't really have a taste, but the soup it's in is so full of hot, delicious, salty, peanuty flavor. And the tuna was just yum. And the whole thing was only 8,000 cedis (about 80 cents) and I couldn't even finish the fufu. Like I said, it was pretty amazing. I think I'll be having a lot of it over the semester.

The Fire Festival

Tonight was AMAZING!!!!! I really can't explain how much fun I had, but I'll write about it anyway. But first, I need to back up a second to earlier today. Around 3:00, I went to La Badi Beach. I didn't go Sunday because of the chickens (which turned out quite tasty but awfully chewy), so I thought it would be nice to go today. To get there, I took a tro-tro, my first tro-tro ride ever. The tro-tro is the main form of public transportation and is just another name for a crowded rickety-ass van. But seriously, the tro-tro is pretty awesome. You just have to wait at a little stopping point, find out where the tro-tro is going, and then hop on if it's going your way. It was only 2,000 cedis to go to the beach (about 20 cents), as opposed to a cab ride which would be about 20,000 cedis. However, if you're sharing a cab with 3 or 4 people, that price becomes pretty reasonable. But regardless, the tro-tro's are pretty sweet. NYU recommends that we don't take them, but I think that as long as I'm traveling in the city during the daytime, it's no more risky than taking a taxi. Half the taxis in the city don't have seat belts and some of the drivers are pretty crazy. They also like to drive 100 mph at night with no headlights on. So the tro-tro is not so bad, really.

But I'm getting a bit off topic. So I went to the beach and splashed around a bit. Much good fun was had. Then as I was getting out of the water, a few guys asked if I was leaving. I told them I was going for a walk and they asked if they could join me. So I said yes. One was Eric, who I just wrote about in another post. The other was Saliq, who actually turns out to be one of Rahsheed's relatives (it seems like everyone I meet is one of Rahsheed's relatives). Although I didn't know that at the time. Anyway, we chatted and became friends, exchanged phone numbers, met some norweigan guys wearing flamboyant speedos, and then parted ways.

But then, tonight, immediately after walking into my room after dinner, I get a call from Saliq. He tells me that he's at my school and that I should come meet him. At first I was a little skeptical... he seemed like a nice guy on the beach, but you never know, meeting some guy in the dark, quiet neighborhood... but then he said, "The program is about to start." When he said "program," I remembered that Jessie (one of the NYU girls) told me about the fire festival she was invited to. So I asked if the program was the fire festival, and he said yes. And so then I went with Jessie and several other people, thinking I would watch some tribal festival being performed or something. It sounded pretty cool. Fire and stuff.

For those who are interested, I will tell the history/tradition of the fire festival. The festival originates from the northern tribes of Ghana, so the people celebrating, though they live in Accra, all come from the north (well, most... after all, I don't come from the north, although I can be pretty convincing). The primary chief's son went missing one day, and so he told all of the villages to light fires and go around looking for him. And so that's the start of the fire festival. It also marks the New Year for these people. All are welcome to join in the festival, even those not from the north. This is where I was able to come into the picture.

So I got to the spot which was super-duper close. It was right by Auntie Adua's place. When I got there, there was a huge fire off the side of the road with some people dancing arouund it, holding up lit bundles of sticks and burning pieces of cardboard. Many people were in traditional clothing with headbands and white makeup, although most just had their shirts off. There was one guy (who I absolutely loved) who was wearing tighty-whities, a stuffed bra, and some sort of headdress. He was pretty amazing. And then there was another guy who had a blade in his mouth the whole night. Very strange. On the other side of the road, there were two huge speakers blasting music (I'm guessing music from the north... very African and very Muslim). And in between, there were people dancing all in the streets. Now is this my kind of party or what? It was incredible. Everyone was in such high spirits, dancing with so much energy, waving around flaming sticks and rubbing machetes against the road to create sparks. I couldn't help but join in all the energy, and everyone welcomed me gladly. After a little while, we took our little festival on the road and went around the neighborhood with our fire, drumming, dancing, and pure energy. Every now and then I would stop being so active and I would just walk and hold hands with Eric or Saliq. (Cultural note: In Ghana, people are a lot more touchy. By American standards, some things (such as pulling someone's pants up if they are too low) could kind of be seen as harassment. But here, it's completely normal to see men holding hands or dancing with each other, and there is nothing necessarily homosexual about it. I'll elaborate on this more in another post). I felt so welcome, so happy, so energetic, so free. I really hoped we would all get naked and run around the streets together. But hey, we had fire, so I guess that's the next best thing. I'm actually kind of surprised no one burst into flames during the whole shindig.

Anyway, we circled the neighborhood with much noise, fire, and energy. Whenever cars would come by, we would all block them from getting through for a second, dance and wave fire all around the car, and then we would let them go. They didn't seem too upset about it. I'd think it was pretty damn cool if I were them. As we came back to our original spots, most of the flames had gone out, but the energy had not. We all continued dancing pretty hardcore for another 45 minutes or so. Then we called it a night. I could've possibly gone on for longer, but I have my first day teaching tomorrow (community service), and I want to be nice and well rested. I can't wait to see how it goes. I'll definitely leave a post about it tomorrow or Wednesday.

And in other news, Harmattan is finally over!!! For those who may not remember (or perhaps I've never mentioned it), the Harmattan is the shitty season in Ghana when winds from the Sahara blow dust all over the place, making the air dry and dusty (which makes an interesting combination when you consider the fact that it's so humid here). According to locals, it was the longest Harmattan in 15 years. It lasted for almost a month I think. Last year it only lasted for two days. I didn't really think it bad, but it was giving a lot of people colds and allergies and such. So I'm happy it's over. Well, that's all I have for tonight. Hope you've enjoyed my ramblings.

On Opportunity and Privilege

Sometimes I forget how amazingly lucky I really am. I wanted to go to New York University and so I did. I wanted to wander off into the woods for a few months and so I did. I randomly applied to study abroad in Ghana this semester and so now here I am. But are these happenings really attributable to my character or to my circumstances? I have parents who love me, support my decisions (how many parents would be so enthusiastic about their child going to any African country?), and who have the financial resources to support my adventures. And sometimes I just... well, I wouldn't say I take it for granted, but sometimes I forget how few people have the sort of mobility and opportunities that I have.

You may be wondering why I bring this all up. Well, it's a trend I've been noticing in Ghana. There is such little opportunity here to go places and make a good living. I met a woman named Gift a few weeks ago who has a graduate degree in business (if I remember correctly), but she works in a little stand on the side of the road selling masks that she makes. Everyday, I see so many people selling things, but then I never see anyone buying those things. Then today I went to La Badi Beach and I met a guy named Eric, 19 years old, a really nice, smart guy. We had the usual intro conversation and then he told me about his aspirations to go to America. The first thing I thought to myself was, "Well, it's not THAT great," but the more I talked to him, I understood his and so many others' larger situations here in Ghana.

Eric grew up in Kumasi (about 100 miles north of Accra) and he moved to Accra when his parents moved here. At first, he just asked me what he would need to do in order to get to America. I gave him the very administrative answer. I told him he would need a passport, a visa, money, and plans. He kept telling me that it just wasn't easy for someone in Ghana to travel outside the country. Then he asked me how easy it was to get into the educational system in the US. Eric had just completed secondary school and he was not able to go to a University here. (I found out last semester in a lecture Professor Nyarko, who is from Ghana, that so many Ghanains apply to the University of Ghana every year but they can only take maybe a fourth of all those people. The few other universities in the country are either private which means they cost money or they are similar to UGhana. So Eric is kind of out of luck as far as school here goes). I told him that if he had decent grades that there would be a school in the US that would accept it. After all, there are so many. But then I told him the drawback to all that was that he would need money to go to school. And then he told me (and I have definitely noticed since being here), "I can't make any money here." Later he told me he envied my lifestyle. I didn't really know what he meant at first, but then he elaborated by saying he wishes he didn't have to live with his parents. He wishes he could just hop on a plane and go live in some other place. I think of all the money I seem to just throw away on taxis and food and beer and whatever else, and here's this guy, probably not much different from me - smart, ambitious, ready to explore the world, ready to make something of himself - and he's just not sure he'll ever have the resources to make it happen. And all the meanwhile, millions of kids in America (I used to be one of them) just sit around all day with the doldrums, sick of "normal" (AKA privileged) life.

I thank my lucky stars, my parents, and everyone out there who loves me. If you're reading this right now, that means you have access to the internet. So you can thank your lucky stars as well.

Pictures

I would have liked to have uploaded more pictures on here, but that takes forever, and I could just give everyone a nifty little link to some nice pictures of life here in Ghana. The site is Tania del Rio's. She is an amazing NYU student on this trip who I have become friends with and who has taken some fabulous photos. So check out her site for some awesome pictures.

http://taniadelrio.spaces.live.com/

And tonight for supper...

Chicken! I woke up today, a very normal day in Accra. I drank some water. I drank some tea. I did my stretches. I checked my email. I took a shower. I ate some oatmeal. It was all very normal until the chickens. Rahsheed and two of his cousins took Dipesh, John, Ally, and me to a little place nearby where we bought two chickens for 13,000 cedis (about $13). When we got there, the chickens were inside a large wooden crate. When we left, Mortimer and Andrew Jackson (names provided by Dipesh) were in our hands as we walked down the street. Alright, I'll be honest. I held the chickens, but I didn't carry them back. They vomited or something on my foot, as well as Dipesh's foot. Dipesh also got some chicken poo on his hands as well. Haha.

So we walked the chickens back to Rahsheed's house. This is where the fun really began. One of Rahsheed's cousins dug up a little dirt from an area on the ground. Then Rahsheed held the body of the chicken while his cousin held the head. Then the knife came down on the chicken's throat and the blood started to flow. The chicken shook around a bit as its life slowly flowed out of its neck. They guys threw it on the ground, its head twisted onto its back, its eyes completely pale and glazed, devoid of any life. The same happened with the second chicken, and while it was happening, the first chicken's legs kept moving around. The movement was controlled by the chickens nerves, not its consciousness (since it had none). Then we put the chickens in a large bowl and we all gathered around them. Next we poured boiling water over the chickens. The boiling water makes it easier to get the feathers off. After that, we pulled out the feathers (although it was sort of like scraping because the water made it easier) with our bare hands and threw them in a bucket. Some were a bit more difficult to get out, so we had to pull those individually. Sometimes little spots of blood would show up on the chicken, or on my hands. The whole time blackish red blood would leak from the chicken's throat and drip into the bowl or on the cement ground or on Ally's legs. After all the feathers were gone, the chickens looked a little more like what I'm used to eating (with the exception of the dangling bloody head part). Then Rasheed cut the heads and the feet off of the chicken. Then we put the chickens into a plastic bag and headed back to Church.

Here the guys showed us how to cut the chicken apart and remove its organ. I remember the heart, the throat, the intestines, and the gizzard, but the other stuff was just random unidentified innerds. After they were done cutting the chicken, there were random green liquids and yellow chunks of god-knows-what on the counter. And so now, the counter's clean and we're ready to cook those chickens with some lemon and garlic. We're also having potatoes, roasted veggies, and fruit. I personally am very excited, although the eating probably won't take place for another three or four hours. All in good time.

Pictures to come soon!

January 28th, 2007

For this blog, I don't think I will write a day-by-day journal. I'll just write about a few significant events and random information/thoughts. Yesterday was somewhat a holiday for the Greater Accra Region. The traditional chief of the region died three years ago. Yesterday was his funeral. (From what I heard, though, three years is a relatively short time between death and burial for a chief. Sometimes it can be six or seven years!) The one word I can use to describe the event is "overwhelming." If I had been in more of a festive mood, maybe I would not have felt this way. But I was not prepared for what happened. We went to Jamestown, which is also known as British Accra because it is the first place that the British landed and settled in Accra. I had not been to this part of town before. Together with Accra Central, there are many old rundown colonial buildings in the area. (To be honest, very little architecture in the city looks well-maintained). By the water, there's the fishing village in Jamestown. This area is a mix of filthiness and awesomeness. Filthiness because the beach is filled with litter and because fish don't smell so hot, but awesomeness because of the general attitude of the spot. There are fishing boats all over the beach and families hanging around, children washing themselves, things like that. Since yesterday was the funeral, no one was working, so I didn't get the most accurate picture of these places.

So anyway, the funeral. People were EVERYWHERE on the streets. Everyone was dressed in black and red, and even though everyone was mourning, everyone was very festive. There were many groups of men and women who would be walking down the street banging drums, singing, chanting, dancing, or just cheering. Motorcyclists kept going up and down the streets, some doing little tricks on their bikes as they went by. Sometimes a bus fulls of chiefs from some distant village would drive through. They were dressed in very elegant red and black robes. They would not make noise like all the other people, but would instead just smile and wave. I encountered many drunk people (I mean DRUNK) who would come up to me and fall all over me laughing and say things that I could not understand. I now realize English isn't quite as common as I had thought. Most of the people I encountered here had a very limited understanding of English. Most spoke Ga (the language of Accra) or Twi (the language of the Ashantis, the most common language in Ghana). Everyone seemed so happy and they all just wanted to shake my hand say hello to me or ask me about why I was there. Like I said, it was a bit overwhelming. Little children were constantly running up to me and smiling, grabbing my hands, asking "How are you?" and some asking for money. Mostly smiling though. So many people would signal for me to come to them, but my friends and I kept moving through the crowds, so I had to tell them, "No, no, sorry, I can't" and things like that. Some of them seemed genuinely upset that I wouldn't stop and talk to them. I didn't know how to deal with all the people. I can't be an anonymous person here in Ghana, not with my skin. Sometimes I get a lot more attention than I want. Some of the girls I was with had cameras, so lots of people would ask for pictures. On the other, lots of people tried to grab their cameras cause they were mad the girls had taken pictures. The whole time, there were these guys who were friend's of Albert's (who is the nephew of the new chief of Accra) who kept ushering us through the crowds. They got a bit annoying at times. After about two hours of madness, I decided to leave. Unfortunately I didn't get to see the body being brought out or the cow being slaughtered (a custom for a chief's funeral), but I'm sure I'll live without. Another problem I had with the whole thing was that I felt I could only be an observer. Even though the people are very welcoming, I had no connection to the chief of Accra, so the whole funeral meant nothing to me really. But I'm glad I went, if only to see so many people out for one occasion.

*****

Wednesday night was a lot of fun. Until I came home. Even though it was about 2AM when I got home, it was strangely dark and quiet in the compound. I walked inside, flipped the light switch, and then... no light. I went to the bathroom and... no water. At first I thought, "No big deal, a lot of people live without electricity." It really didn't bother me. But Ghana is hot. I mean HOT. It's South Georgia summer 24/7 here. I can't do anything without being drenched in sweat, including sleeping without any air conditioning or fan. I lied in bed for hours, sweating, just praying I would fall asleep. I would've slept outside where it was cooler, but then I would get eaten by mosquitos all night long, and if my parasite load is too heavy, then I could get malaria. And that would be bad. When I woke up, I was still sweating and there was still no water. So I had to walk to the other NYU residence to take a shower and boil water for oatmeal. This also happened to be the hottest day since I've gotten here, so the walk was particularly bad. I was so sweaty and disgusting. You'd think I would be used to it by now, having grown up in Georgia, but I just don't think being incredibly hot and drenched in sweat is a feeling that someone can grow accustomed to. Maybe I'm wrong though. So the lesson we can all learn is that we should not take electricity, water, air conditioning, a flushing toilet, etc. for granted, because not everyone has these things.

*****

Thursday I went to La Yahoushua School where I have my community service placement. We went around to all the primary classrooms (Grades 1-6) and met the teachers and the students. The students were so adorable in their orange and brown uniforms. Everytime we would walk into a room, all the students would stand up and say in unison, "You are welcome." Then Kenneth, one of the NYU staff, would ask the students, "How are you?" and they would say in unison, "We are fine. Thank you." The students would all smile at us. Some of them were a little shy. The teachers all seemed nice. From what I hear, teachers in Ghana are paid very poorly (but apparently most people are). Kenneth told us that a lot of the teachers are really lazy and will want us volunteers to teach the classes for them. Heh. After we went around to all the classrooms, we were free to go to a teacher and talk with them about what they do and ask if they wanted our help. I went to a Grade 4, 5, and 6 English teacher named Cynthia. She seemed very happy that I chose her classes. She told me I was free to come in whenever I liked and that I could work with the students however I wanted, as a class, small groups, individuals, or whatever. She gave me their textbooks so I could look through them. They are not bad, but there are some very blatant mistakes in the book. For example, immediately after a lesson about proper nouns and how they should be capitalized is a lesson on commas and the book says, "Well, practising these punctuations would help you very much to write english very well." I don't mean to criticize, but sometimes these mistakes are very obvious and I wonder who edited the book. The books do a good job of integrating current events into the text though. They sometimes have poems about AIDS, malaria, Africa, healthy living, etc. I'm curious to find out how the class is actually taught though. I'll find out Tuesday.

*****

My Documenting the African City class is going to the Pan-African film festival in Burkina Faso, the country that borders Ghana to the north. It happens every two years and it's the largest festival of any kind on the African continent. Excited!

On Fat

Rahsheed told us a little story about one day when he had three friends, all American girls, over at his house. They were all watching a movie, and in the movie there was a skinny man and a fat man. One of the girls was skinny and two were fat. Rahsheed said to the skinny one, "That man is skinny like you and the other is fat like them." The two fat girls started crying and Rahsheed was confused.

Apparently, in Ghana, weight and its relation to appearance are completely opposite from America. In Ghana, if someone is fat, man or woman, it is completely acceptable to tell them they are fat or make reference to it. This is seen as a compliment. It's like saying, "You are well fed, you are living life, you enjoy yourself." When we were eating at Auntie Adua's, Albert openly called Auntie Adua fat (she is quite a large woman) because she told us her hobbie was cooking. We Americans (well, Tania's Mexican, but she says Mexico is very Americanized) were very surprised that he woudl say such a thing, but just as Ghanains mean no harm when they call me obruni, Albert meant no harm when he called Adua fat. He was simply stating a fact and sort of giving a compliment.

On the other side, someone who is very skinny has something wrong with them. "Why are you so skinny? Why don't you eat? You must not be healthy. You don't eat enough." Of course, I don't even need to explain to my fellow Americans that American culture tells us fat is bad (and really for health purposes being fat is bad, but I'll not get into that). Rahsheed really didn't know that you shouldn't call American girls fat. One of the CRA's, Chris, did something similar actually. One of the girls told him that he should eat more so he wouldn't be so skinny. Then he said, "Yes, I should eat more so I can be fat like you." So my message to all those self-conscious American girls out there... come to Ghana! You can be fat all day long! Of course, one must realize that there are not so many fat people in Ghana as in America. This is because in America, it is easy to buy all the food you want and get as fat as you want. In Ghana, things are not quite so, although I am surprised by the vast amount of food options here in Accra.

January 22nd, 2007

The past four days (Thursday-Sunday), I have started to get past the initial excitement of "I'm in Ghana" and I've started to just be here like I would be anywhere else. I'm not saying being in Ghana is no longer exciting. I'm just saying that the initial "Oh my this is fucking crazy" feeling is starting to wane a bit.

Thursday I was pretty much a very lazy person, but a nice lazy... lethargic let's say. I read for a few hours, wrote for a few hours, surfed the net for a few hours, went for a walk for a few hours, chilled with some friends at a local spot for a few hours. It was nice. What worried me that day, though, was my stomach. I ate oatmeal for breakfast, as I do every day, but I put some butter in it that morning. While I was eating the oatmeal, I could sense that something was not right about it. I knew it was the butter, but I didn't think much of it. For the next 10 hours or so, I felt really strange. I constantly felt like I was full and that if I ate anything, I would throw up. A few times I thought I would throw up. I skipped dinner and took a nap instead, although I couldn't actually sleep. However, when I got up from resting, I felt pretty good. Not 100%, but better at least.

So I decided to go out to Bywel Bar. My African Popular Music professor told us that Bywel had some of the best live music in Accra on Thursday nights, so I was pretty excited. It was a very cool place. From the front, it looks like you walk inside and then you are indoors, but actually you walk inside and you are still outdoors, which is very nice given the warm night air of Accra. The place was very crowded. All around, there was a nice mix of Ghanains and foreigners, neither one really being dominant. (I've already discovered that anytime I go out, there's a disproportionately large number of forgeiners, probably because of the money factor). On top of that, there was a nice age mix... youngsters like myself all the way up to 60 year old women bustin' a move on the dance floor. Once again, neither really dominated. The band was pretty awesome, although Dipesh told me that it wasn't as good as it had been the previous week. They played some reggae, highlife, and samba/salsa/something music, and then this really old guy who apparently is a very respected musician sang some American songs like "Can't Help Falling in Love," "Hit the Road Jack," and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." I chatted a bit with my friends who were there, although for the place was too small and too loud to talk too much. I mostly danced a lot which makes me happy pretty much any day of the year. At one point during the night, the owner of the place, a 65 year old Indian/Middle Eastern man came out and gave a little speech. It went a little something like this:

"When Bywel Bar first opened it's doors 25 years ago, it was intended for the 40 and over crowd. In recent years, we have begun to let the youngsters in. And I do not regret that. However, if anyone tries to push drugs in my club, I will have your ass behind bars. I know every single drug pusher in town and I'm not about to let you ruin the good name of Bywel Bar. I know some of you threatened me last week, but let me tell you, I have police here tonight, so just try, just try and see what happens. You can leave now and I will not say a word or you can go to jail."

Later he went on, "Eight times people have tried to break into my car and I beat every one of those bastards up. Don't think I won't do it to you. And another thing, we have tourists here. Do not destroy the name of Ghana by bringing your filth in here. I promise you, by March 6th (the 50th Indepence), all of you will be in prison." Then everyone started clapping. It was pretty instense.

I left with four of my friends, and we had two very interesting cab rides on the way back. There were several cabs outside the bar waiting to take people home. We tried negotiating with several who would not take our price of 15,000. Finally we got one of them to budge, although he seemed like he didn't really want to take us. (This has been one thing that has been bothering me a bit. Though I do think it's fair for us foreigners to get local prices, I also feel like it's not a big deal to give a taxi driver at extra 5,000 cedis (about $0.50 for me) when they keep insisting that our price is too low, especially when there's five of us. Maybe I'm just too easy to hustle, but I feel like it's not a big deal to give a little more when clearly I've got a little more. But eh, whateva...) After taking us down the road about a quarter of a mile, a policeman stops the cab. He looks in, sees that there are five people in the cab, and then he and the cab driver start getting into some argument in Twi. We don't really know what's going on, although we realized finally through their arguing it was because he had too many people in the cab. So the policeman tells us to get out, he hops in the front seat with his AK-47 (yeah, the cops here carry around some big guns... it's a little frightening), and then some woman who was on the street also hops in the cab, and then they just drive off. I was completely confused and I felt really bad for the cab driver. So we walked about 50 feet and got another cab. I completely opposed the idea of us all getting in one cab again since we just got a cab driver in trouble for that, but everyone got in the cab, and I didn't want to be left in Osu by myself at 1AM. Next time I'll be a little more insistent on the idea and I'll bring up this story. So the cab driver's taking us home, and about 5 minutes later, literally around the corner from where we live, there's a road block. So the policeman pulls the cab over, looks at the five of us, and starts yelling at the cab driver. They have this really long argument while we all sit in awkward silence and confusion in the cab (confusion becauase they are speaking Twi, although I did hear the policeman say, "What if something happened? What insurance company would help you out?"). Finally, the cab driver gets back in the cab, and then he drives us around the corner to our home. We gave him a little extra money because we all felt bad. So yeah, no more five people cabs.

*****

The next day, I woke up nice and late, around noon. Auntie Adua, the woman who owns the little stand near the academic center that a few friends and I frequent a bit, invited a few of us over for lunch Friday afternoon. So we went over and chilled at her stand for a while because she was still preparing the meal. I had a coke for the first time in quite a while... I had forgotten how amazing a coke can be on a really hot day (which is every day here). Once the meal was ready, we came into her home and had lunch on her back porch. It was the best, I mean THE BEST food I've had since I've been here. There's nothing like a nice home-cooked meal. She made us jollof rice, fried chicken and fish, fried plantains, and a vegetable pasta salad. It was pretty amazing. Albert came to the lunch, as well as Rasheed, a really awesome Ashesi student we met a few days ago. We talked of many interesting things during and after our lunch. The most interesting was the conversation on being fat, which is so interesting that I will devote a separate little section to it (watch out for it very soon!).

After lunch, we came back to Church (anytime I write just "Church," I'm referring to my residence, Church Crescent... we just call it Church) and played ping pong, frisbee, and futbol (I'm writing the Spanish because it helps me differentiate between American football and what everyone else in the world calls futbol). I kicked the futbol over the fence. That made me sad. But apparently someone got it back. Later that night a bunch of us went to the local clinic to visit Ally. She got sick a few days ago, just started throwing up a lot, so she went to the clinic. She already felt better by the time we visited her, and she actually ended up leaving that night, so no worries. So far, she's the second person to go to the clinic, and one of many to feel sick at some point. Our stomachs and intestines just don't respond so well to everything here. I stayed in the rest of the night and chilled with Jackie and Tania. We talked about our time here, impressions, happenings... you know, shootin' the shit. Then we watched half of Kill Bill Vol. 1. We stopped it because we were all sleepy. And then I went into beautiful slumber...

*****

And now for Saturday. (I really hope people are reading this. Not that I don't enjoy writing for myself, but damn...). I woke up and read for about an hour. I finished The River Between. It was a really good book, but I'm not sure how to feel about it. There was struggle and conflict, and then the last 10 pages or so built up the ending to seem like the hero was going to triumph, and then in the very last paragraph, that hope is shattered. How depressing is that?
I went to Kaneshie with Jackie, Tania, Ariel, and Danae. Kaneshie is the place with the market and the kids playing soccer (and sometimes I'll still call it soccer) from the week before. We went back to the same spot to play soccer, but there were different kids this time. We played pretty hardcore for a while, but after about 30 minutes, I was so insanely hot and sweaty that I just couldn't go on anymore. I felt like I was playing in a sauna. The game ended up being 1-1, but I was so hot that I really didn't care about the score. We sat around for a long time and chatted with the kids. I actually talked mostly with a teacher who looked like he was about my age. We talked of many things, but one thing he said really made me think: "You must have come here for a reason, for some goal. Just make sure that when you leave you have completed that goal. A lot of people come here and think they have all the time in the world and then when they leave, they realize they didn't get to do what they wanted to do." He had a really good point. I've only been here for two weeks, but it's true that I should really start thinking about what I want to accomplish here, what I want to do before I leave. Otherwise, as he said, I may end up leaving unfulfilled. And how often does one come to Ghana? Not that I'm ruling out the possibility, but you never know.

That night I went with several students to ChurCheese. It's basically the Ghanain version of Chuckie Cheese, only the atmosphere is more sterile and less exiting. The food was up to Chuckie Cheese standards of quality, which loosely translated means that it really sucked. The pizza was nasty and greasy, the burgers were rubbery, and the grilled chicked looked fried. Bleh.

I stayed in again Saturday night, but oh, it was more than just staying in. I never ever would have expected what was to come that night. The music was blasting, we were all chatting... Then four girls from the Buf (the other residence) came over. The game ended, and it seemed that it would be another one of those nice nights at home. But suddenly, out of nowhere, this dance party just somehow emerged. At first it was just a few people dancing, but somehow, by some act of God, we were all just goin' at it like there was no tomorrow. As the night went on, people started coming back home from whatever clubs or parties they were at and they would be so shocked and inspired by the energy of the dance party that they themselves would join in as well. I mean, this shit was hot. What was great was that there were so many of us and so much energy that at times I would leave the dance party for a while, my longest departure being for about 45 minutes, and then I'd come back, and it'd still be hot as ever. Ultimately, the party ended at about 3:30. It was amazing. Five hours of intense dancing, energy, good people, good tunes... what more could a person ask for? I think I also found my dancing soulmate. Her name is Megan. All night long, she inspired my energy. We were totally on the same page with our dancing. It was pretty incredible.

*****

Yesterday, Sunday, was... well, it was a typical Sunday. Nice and lazy. I got up at noon. Ate. Went to the beach. Took a nap. Made dinner. Ate dinner. Went to sleep. It was nice.

*****

Today. This.

On Gender

The social lives of men and women are not quite the same here as they are in the States. I warn the reader not to assume what I write is true for all Ghanain men or all Ghanain women, just as there is no one single American male or female persona. It is very clear that in many ways men come before women here, or at least men have more power. Well, that's not such a big shock... I'd say most places in the world are like this. First of all, men are a lot more present in social settings. (Most) Street performers are men. (Most) Beggars are men. (More) people at a bar or a club are male instead of female. When I went to the reggae party on the beach Wednesday, it was almost entirely male. The majority of the women were foreign women. The few Ghanain women were sitting at tables, drinking and chatting.

I don't want to portray the African woman as a timid and meek creature... that would be wrong. But I think the women here have been socialized to be less outgoing than the American women. I'm sure both have had the idea of "the woman belongs in the home" presented to them throughout their whole lives, but the American woman has also heard the idea of "independent woman," "girl power," and "working girl," ideas that might not be as familiar or as possible for a Ghanain woman. What first led me to notice this was how a lot of Ghanain men act towards the foreign girls here. It is not uncommon for an obruni girl to get a marriage proposal from a Ghanaian man within the first week, possibly even the first day of their meeting. We've been informed by the NYU staff that this is common practice, and most men don't mean harm by it. For some, it's a way of asking for a date. For others, it's an attempt at getting to live in America. For others, it's a friendly joke. And still for others, it's a way of trying to get some action. Either way, what I've heard from a lot of the NYU girls on this trip is that the guys can be a little aggressive. A little too touchy feely and a little too intensely personal upon first meeting. Girls are getting text messages from guys they met once that say things like, "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love you. I know we should be together forever." One girl has already received eight marriage proposals. I've been approached by guys who say to me, "Hey, your sister is beautiful. Can I have her?"

I have thought of and discussed a few possible explanations for this behavior. (Realize I don't intend to judge anyone, simply because no one can help the way they've been socialized in this world). One explanation may definitely be that white girls are exotic to the Ghanains. They are different, exciting, rich, gorgeous, like nothing they have experienced before. These aren't the girls next door; they are the girls across the ocean. These aren't the girls these men grew up with; they are the girls these men found tipsy on the beach one night in those foreign clothes with that foreign hair and that foreign accent and that foreign bank account and that foreign skin and so on and so on. As I've already mentioned before, Ghanains seem to be excited about foreigners. (We in the US are not quite as welcoming to foreigners, so if you are there, reorient yourself a bit).

So that's one explanation. Another one I thought of, however, which may play a bigger or a smaller role, is the difference in the way Ghanain and American girls act. Ghanain women don't seem to approach guys unless they are prostitutes. Ghanain women often try not to make any eye contact with me when I walk down the street, whereas the men almost always do. Ghanain women don't talk as much when I've been in mixed groups of men and women, unless the woman is of a motherly age, 40+ let's say. This is totally not the American girl, especially the kind of American girl that decides to come to Ghana. American women for the most part feel safe to approach guys, or at least as safe as guys feel to approach them. American women are generally just as social in random encounters as men. American women certainly talk just as much if not more than guys in mixed gender settings. Therefore, maybe American girls just come off as slutty to Ghanain men because of their outgoing nature. Maybe American girls seem easy. And of course, maybe Ghanain men are just more interested in a night of fun with an American girl than with a Ghanain girl... save the Ghanain girls for marriage, American for fun.

As I said, I am not judging, only pointing out differences. I should also warn that I haven't been here so long. These are just some thoughts I am beginning to form and which I will have to update in the future. Perhaps the next four months will validate these observations or perhaps I will realize I was completely wrong. One interesting note, though one that will be elaborated in a further blog, is that homosexual men are also a lot more forward about their propositions than in the US. I have not received any proposals, but apparently a few guys on this trip have, one of them several, and they seemed pretty straightforward.

Man: So are we going to do it?

NYU student: Do what?

Man: Have sex.

****

(The two are in a crowded bar)

Man: Come out here, I have something to show you.

NYU student: What is it?

Man: No, just come out here.

NYU student: Why can't you just show me here?

Man: Because it's down here (points to crotch).

More to come on homosexuality later.

On Race

When I walk down the street, people will smile at me and wave at me and tell me hello. Well, not everyone, but that is the general attitude. Some of them may even call me obruni, which means literally "white person," but also more generally means foreigner. Even an African American can be called obruni once he or she opens his mouth to reveal an American accent. The Ghanains will laugh and say, "Hey, obruni!" I will say back to them, "Hey, bibini!" The word bibini means "black person." The Ghanain will laugh and smile when I say this because I'm speaking Twi and because they think it's cute I suppose. This whole interaction is so friendly and terms obruni and bibini seem almost like terms of endearment and not terms meant to point out some radical difference between us.

In the United States, this sort of interaction could never take place. More than likely, both parties would be too afraid, awkward, or confused to have such a random and upfront statement about their colors. There's a sort of awkwardness that takes place between these races... no matter how racist or how liberal I may be, in America, I look at a white person and I look at a black person, and I can't help but see the two differently and act towards the two differently. I don't want to, but the idea that we are so different has been engrained into my mind.
It just doesn't seem like people here act so fundamentally different towards different races. Now, I won't deny that white privilege can be found here in Accra. A taxi driver is more likely to talk to me. A random person is more likely to call me out for a conversation. I'd probably be more likely to get help in distress than a fellow Ghanain... but these reasons reflect the idea that a foreigner has money, which for me is true. The privilege doesn't seem to stem from some strange distorted notion that I am superior in any way.

In my Documenting the African City class, we watched a student film on African Americans in Ghana. I hadn't considered the topic too much, but now I'm extremely interested. The general impression the documentary gave was that the same stereotypes that exist about African Americans in America exists here in Ghana as well... lazy, uninterested in education, always getting in prison, etc. On the other side, the African Americans the student interviewed expressed somewhat of an unfulfillment to coming to Africa. People here couldn't understand and sympathize with their oppression because they simply had not experienced that. The African people have been in an entirely different world system... tribal life, colonialism, underdevelopment. I'm going to leave this here for now. I'll maybe say more once I have been here longer.

January 18th, 2007

Yesterday was a pretty cool day. I got up at 6:50AM to go swimming at Wangara Hotel with Ariel. However, the pool was pretty gross. There's no water in the area for about a week which is why the hotel couldn't clean it. I found this out when Kenneth, one of the NYU staff members, came over here to Church to fill up buckets to take home. Apparently we have a water reservoir under our compound so that we can't run out of water. Oh, the privileges of being an NYU student... at least our tuition is good for something, although it would be fun to go somewhere and fill up water and carry the buckets home on my head like other Ghanains do. I really want to learn how to carry things on my head. It looks so graceful, that balance, that skill. So, after the failed mission to the pool, I sat around and read a book called The River Between that Robbie gave me to bring with me. It's a nice easy enjoyable read. It's about these tribes that live on these two ridges with a river in between in Kenya. The white man comes, brings Christianity, denounces tribal customs, and ultimately divides the area into followers of the new way and the old way. There's more to it, but that's all I'll say for now.

Then I just wandered around for a few hours down some roads. Me ne nam (Twi for "I'm just walking around"... comes in handy when everyone asks where I'm going). I talked with some nice people on my walk. If you go for a walk for any amount of time in Ghana, you will talk with lots of people. It's kind of nice, if you're ever lonely, just go for a walk. Although it's kind of hard to just go for a walk and not talk to people, if one's goal is just to wander in solitude, because someone will call you out and start talking to you. Although I've found if I sing while I walk (which I do a lot), people won't talk to me. I almost got really lost when I entered a community of dirt paths. I seriously have no idea where I'm going outside of this neighborhood. The streets aren't set up in the convenient grid-like fashion of New York City. However, the good thing is, it would be kind of hard not to find my way back since I can always ask people. On top of that, cabs always stop for me even when I don't want a ride. I'm obruni, so I must have money and I must not know where I'm going, right? Well, that's actually pretty true, but I like to walk it out, explore the area. I bought some really ghetto fabulous flip flops on my walk. I wasn't smart enough to bring sandals to Ghana where it's always between 75-95 degrees, so I had to buy some.

After my walk, I was pretty exhausted, so I went to get lunch with some NYU buddies, Henry and Meagan. Then I napped... mmm... nap. I might be doing that soon actually. Then I went to my Conflicts in African States class. The class is held at Ashesi University. The vibe of the classroom is so much different from an NYU class. It's very high-schoolish... kids talking in class, laughing when the professor says something in a funny way, just being goofy. It's pretty refreshing to be in this kind of class, although I'd be a little upset if I were the professor. He's a pretty good lecturer, knows his stuff. Don't get me wrong about the Ashesi class, though... I didn't mean to say Ashesi students don't care about their studies or anything. It's just a different vibe. Then I went to Documenting the African City which I'm really excited about. In the class, we're going to learn about documentaries, representations of the African city, and a lot of practical work about making films. Throughout the semester, we'll be making a documentary about some aspect of life here in Accra. We watched several documentaries from past years. Some of them were really quite amazing. The equipment we get to use for the class produces quite high quality productions. We work in groups of two or three, so that we don't have to venture into film-making all by our onesies.

Then I went to dinner... same old, same old, but still good. After dinner, I went to a reggae party at La Badi Beach. It was pretty awesome. At first it kind of sucked because there was hardly anyone there, but once people started to come, the party became very fun. People were just chillin' on the beach, talking, meeting people, dancing (I was doing a lot of dancing... hard to stop my body from responding to the music)... all good things, very free and fun. And, of course, being on the beach the whole time just enhanced the experience. What's crazy is how many of the same people I see at different places. I'll have a conversation with someone one night at some bar and then I'll see them at the beach again on a different night. It's really cool, though. There's some pretty awesome people here who just want to have a nice conversation and/or dance and/or whatever.

Oh, I almost forgot about the scary taxi ride to La Badi Beach and the creepy ride back. Both were pretty funny in retrospect. So the way over. We stopped a cab and negotiated 20,000 to go to La Badi Beach. La Badi Beach is a pretty popular spot, so we don't even question whether or not the cab driver knows where he's going. So we all pile into this rickety-ass cab and he starts driving us down some street that is in the opposite direction of the beach. We're all a little confused as to where he's going, so we ask him, "Do you know where you're going? La Badi Beach?" And he looks at us like he doesn't understand what we're saying. All of a sudden he turns around and starts going back in the other direction. Then a few minutes later he turns down a random side street and asks for directions to La Badi Beach. It was pretty funny, but at the same time, if you're a cab driver in Accra, it would be helpful to know where the beach is. So after he gets directions, he starts driving us towards Legon which is in the opposite direction of the beach. It was all very sketchy. So we just told him to let us out at a Shell Station. So we got another cab to La Badi and that cab driver did know where he was going.

So now for the way back... so creepy. First of all we're waiting by the side of the road with this guy who works for La Badi Beach, or I guess the hotel there or something... he had an official looking name tag, anyway. He was stopping cabs to sort of screen them before we got in (he was doing it for everyone who was leaving. He told us, "Cab drivers these days, some of them are just crazy, so we make sure we know the people before you get in." I thought that was very nice of him, although I don't like to hear that the cab drivers are crazy. So he gets us a cab, and I take off with three girls to go home. So the driver starts driving and after only a few seconds he turns on this tap of sex noises. It took a moment to register what we were listening to, but when it did, we were all extremely creeped out. We were all so in shock, we didn't really know what to say. We sat there a second looking at each other like "Is this guy for real?" and then finally we asked him to turn it off. He said, "Oh, you don't like this?" And we said, "No, it's making us very uncomfortable, please change it." I mean, it was uncomfortable for all of us, but I can't imagine what it was like for the three girls... So he turns on the radio and immediately we here, "Jesus is my savior, Christ Christ God is good, holy holy..." I died laughing. It was so friggin' hilarious. I mean, of course, we were all still creeped out, but just that change and that tension-breaker... I haven't laughed that hard in a while. So anyway, those are my creepy taxi stories. I'm sure I'll have more.

Pictures

Here's a few photographs, courtesy of Miss Jackie España.


These signs are pretty common here... people peeing on the side of the road is also pretty common.

A few of us at the residence.

Playing soccer with little Ghanain children.

The NYU in Ghana family.

Some local food... the fried plantains are particularly excellent.

January 15th, 2007

I am currently sitting in the common room of House 4, the house I live in. Right now we're having our nightly house party/internet cafe/game room. It's really awesome. I feel like we are all the cool NYU kids that never met each other in New York. Several people are on their computers, on the internet, several are playing cards which I just got done playing... jin, Egyptian rat screw, BS, etc. Two people are playing mankala (sp?). There's some samba in the background. And all the while we chat with each other, many with beers. And today was the first day of classes. How wild is that?

Okay, so because of scheduling weirdness, I can't be 100% sure of my courses right now, but I'm pretty sure I'm taking the following:

Politics of Sub-Saharan Africa (NYU)
Documenting the African City (NYU/NAFTI)
Popular Music in Africa (NYU/University of Ghana)
Conflicts in African States (Ashesi)

That's right, folks. I'm taking classes at four different institutions in the same semester. Crazy, no? I had two classes today. They both seem like they're going to be pretty cool. Other than that, I mostly chilled out today. I got lunch at SUnshine Cafe with a few friends. I had a monstrous salad with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumers, chicken, guacamole, sour cream, nachos, green peppers, and onions. It was delicious. After class Tania, John, and I went to Sister Maude's (which we found out is actually Auntie Adua's) little place and had a snack. While we were there, we met Auntie Adua. She is a wonderful woman. She works at the La Yahoushua school, which just happens to be the school I want to volunteer at. We talked about teaching, my aspirations to be a teacher, our families, Twi, and other things. She must be a strong woman because her husband had just died about a month and she seemed in good spirits. She told us one day she would invite us into her home for fufu... so excited! Fufu is mashed yams or plantains in a soup. It's supposed to be the big food in Ghana, but I've yet to try it. I look forward to trying some very soon, though. Albert came by and we met with him again. He seemed to be doing well. We also met the craziest man alive. Right when he came by, all the locals started rolling their eyes because they knew what was coming. He just came up to all of us and started talking about Michigan and some guy named Jamie that he said I looked like. He also said that his father was Richard Nixon and that Nixon ruled Ghana for a few years. Then he gave us a nice skiing demonstration. On our way out he began to follow us, but he stayed behind to annoy the locals. Poor Albert.

Yesterday we went to La Badi Beach. It was my first trip to the beach in about 9 months when I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time off the coast of Oregon. It was the first time I'd gotten in the ocean since Summer 2005 I suppose. How sad is that? Very sad, indeed. I swam for hours in the ocean, enjoying the warm water, the bitchin' waves, and serenity of the ocean. I did not, however, enjoy the wicked undertoe. I went out really far with a few friends, Ariel and Rachel. Everything seemed cool but I started to notice that I was being pulled further and further away from shore and further and further away from all the other people in the water. I swam and swam so hard, but it felt like I was getting nowhere. I wasn't too worried, though. I could tell I would make it out. However, Ariel and Rachel went a good bit further than I did, so I was extremely worried when I made it back to shore and I didn't see them. I would have gone to help, but I'm no lifeguard. Why kill myself in a unsuccessful rescue mission? I saw Ariel after a minute or two, but we didn't see Rachel for a while. We were really scared, but then we saw her on shore walking back. It turned out the lifeguard had to come and save her from drowning. Pretty intense. I'll have to be extra careful from now on in that ocean. However, I am not going to hesistate to go back. I might be going back tomorrow, actually, which would be really awesome. I don't have class until 3:15, so I have the morning and early afternoon to kill. After that scary experience, I just layed out on the beach for a while and zoned out. It was lovely.
Saturday I had the most wonderful experience in Kaneshie. We had just taken a tour of Kaneshie Market, a large market in Accra with food, fabrics, and whatnot, and as we were waiting for some students to return, Tania, Ariel, and I played soccer with some children in this large open area of dirt. It was so much fun. They were probably around 8-13 years old. They were so happy that we were playing with them. They were pretty intense, too. It wasn't too easy to take the ball from them or get a shot past the goalie, although I did make quite a few nice shots that surprised me. I think we're going back this Saturday to play again. I hope so... I love children, I love soccer, I love the sun... can it get much better?

Saturday night we went to this awesome place on the beach called next door. They had a live reggae band. I danced with this guy named Patrick (when I say "with", I mean in front of and in sync with). We tried to either mirror or in some match each other's dance moves so that our dancing became more than just a personal thing. It was very cool. Then I chatted with a Rasta named Kwame (also my Ghanain name, boy born on Saturday) about philosophies on life. He made me rethink some of the philosophies I have about life. I told him my philosophy of "life more abundant," basically the idea that we should strive to make life more abundant, but then he pointed out to me that sometimes abundance doesn't mean much. People in Ghana are very happy even though they have very little, whereas lots of people in America have so much but can never be really satisfied with life. Strange how things like that work, but it's so true. The Ghanain people seem so happy just to have each other's company. When stuff isn't an option, people start to become an option. What an idea, right?

After we left Next Door, we had some taxi sketchiness. There was only one taxi around and so we agreed on a price and then got in. He tried to start his car, but it wouldn't start. So he said, "Hold on, just give me one second." So he gets out and gets something out of his trunk and then starts fiddling around under the hood. Then he comes back and the car doesn't start again. What made the situation even sketchier though was that he kept pushing the cab further and further into the dark parking lot. So, we got out and got another taxi. Right when we were about to get in the other taxi, the first taxi starts, but we still took the second one. That turned out to be a good idea because the first taxi broke down again on the way out. Poor guy. Oh, and I should write about drivers and their headlights. Basically, in Ghana, headlights are optional. I'm not sure why... maybe the drivers' batteries are going to die or something, but drivers don't have their lights on half the time. It's pretty scary. We were told that the #1 cause of death for foreigners in Ghana is auto accidents. I can definitely see why. At least the city isn't too poorly lit. I definitely wouldn't travel outside the city at night.

So I'll conclude with a few more thoughts about life here in Ghana. People like to become friends really fast here. It would be easy to assume that the reason is because I'm a foreigner and so I look like I have money, but richer and poorer Ghanains alike are quick to get to know you and get your phone number. I swear it's not creepy, though. If someone was creepy, I definitely would not give out a phone number and I would keep interaction to a minimum. Another thing... fruit is so cheap here! Yesterday I got three pineapples, four mangos, and four papayas for $4! How ridiculous is that? Um... and... to reiterate... my fellow students here are awesome! It feels like every day is summer camp. Alright, well until next time...

January 12th, 2007

I don't have too much time to write now because I'll be leaving for dinner in about 10 minutes. But I'll do a quick post on some of the awesome stuff our group has been doing. Today we went to the Artist Alliance Gallery, saw a skilled weaver make Kente cloth, saw the ocean (although did not explore it), went to a coffin shop, ate lunch at Tip Top (Chinese), went to Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park (by the way, my Ghanain name is Kwame, boy born on Saturday), met some community service representatives to help us decide where we would like to work, and had our final Twi class (although the learning does not end here, trust me!).

Whew! What a week... anywho, maybe I'll elaborate on some of this madness later, but for now, I'm gonna get my Tante Marie on.

January 10th, 2007

Right now it's almost 4 in the morning. I fell asleep around 8:30, which I realize is ridiculously early, but my intention was only to take a nap. Jackie was supposed to wake me up to go to a reggae party on the beach, but either she never woke me up or she did and I unconsciously told her to let me keep sleeping. Oh well.

So I'll start with Oxford Street. Today I was in Osu on Oxford Street walking around with Jackie and Thelma. Although Oxford Street seems like a really fun place to hang out, it's impossible to actually go anywhere. We were stopped by a guy name Paul who apparently had met a few of us yesterday. He said he was going to change his name to John Francois so that he could be the brother of a girl in our group. That confused me a bit. Then I met a guy who called himself Black Africa. He told me about being a Rasta, meditation, loving Ja (God), and then he invited me to that reggae party on the beach I mentioned earlier. He also said something I liked - he said when you mix the black and the white, it's like a piano, and we make beautiful music together. Apparently some students had already met him because he gave some paintings to Henry to sell to us. They were pretty sweet, some colorful ones of palm trees and African women carrying things on their heads. But I'm so strange about buying things. I just don't really buy stuff unless it's something for consumption, health, education, practical need, etc. It always seems nice at first, but then it dawns on me that it's just stuff and I really have nothing to do with it except maybe stick it in the garage (*wink*). I did, however, buy a bracelet from a man on the street who claimed to be a professor at Legon. I say, if he's a professor at Legon, why is he hanging around Osu selling bracelets? Anyway, it's a very pretty bracelet, black/very dark blue with white specks on it. He said it stood for unity and he wanted to give it to me so that whenever he saw me, it would be a symbol to remind him of our friendship. Well, that sounds nice and everything, but when someone is on the street with over a hundred bracelets and the first thing he does when meeting you is try to give you a bracelet, you know friendship is not his top priority. He put the bracelet on my wrist and then asked me to give him something "out of the kindness of my heart." I tried to explain to him that my heart had not enough kindness to give him money, so I tried to give the bracelet back, but he was so persistent. I would have just walked away, but both Jackie and Thelma were talking to people right next to me, and I could nt tell if they were enjoying their conversations or not. The only other option would have been to be rude, but I don't like to be rude, so I just gave him 10,000 cedis. He wasn't satisfied with this, but I refused to give him more. (For the American folk, 10,000 cedis is about $1 - unfortunately the largest bill here is the 20,000 cedi bill, so when I go to exchange $120, I am a millionaire and I have this fat wad of cash that can't fit in my wallet - although I don't carry it all at once, so don't have a heart attack, Daddy).

We finally headed back for the bus once these three (or maybe four) children started grabbing on to our arms and asking us for money and food. The situation is so difficult to deal with. I want to help them out, but then they and all other beggars will see me and know that I give money away. It's so different in New York. There they don't follow you and persistently ask - they just accept defeat. 'Tis a tragedy on both sides. So yeah, I'm not sure what to think of Oxford Street. Like I said, it seems like it could be fun, but I don't enjoy being harrassed for 20 minutes.

Today we visisted (well, yesterday really, the 10th, whatever) Ashesi University. The campus is fairly small, with about 250 students. It's the first private university in Ghana, and it has been open since 2002. The founder and president of the university, Patrick Awuah, took some time out of his schedule to talk to us about the university and it's goals. He gave a very inspiring talk. He paralleled Africa's situation today with Asia's situation in the 1960's - underdevelopment, poor institutions, and global discrimination against. Then he stated that Africa needed strong black leaders that would work for the good of the people. The goal of Ashesi is to train these leaders and also create some competition among universities to produce the highest quality graduates possible. Fascinating, indeed. Then he asked us why we were here. Heh, good question. I do have some answers. Adventure, exploring the "dark continent" that we in the West hear so little about, or at least so little good things about, the community service component, and for me in particular, I'm also excited to experience education not only at the university level through Ashesi and Legon but also at a primary or secondary level through a community service partnership. But then when it all comes down to it, the reason I'm here is I just applied one day after class. Whatever I was thinking... I'm sure it was those things I mentioned. But I've also discovered from my hiking experience this summer that sometimes it's best to not let those why questions get in the way of living.

After Ashesi, we talked about cultural do's and don'ts. Other than specifics, the main points were to always be polite, greet people, be considerate of people, and be patient. The staff keeps telling us about Ghana time, which really sounds a lot to me like McDonald time. If someone says supper's ready at 8:00, give it a good 2 hour breathing room. Just be patient and don't ask too much when it's going to be ready, and have a snack if necessary.

Then we had a bit of free time, so Tania and I went for a little walk. I told her some things about my hike on the AT because she was curious. The whole experience still feels like a really long dream I had. I wonder if Ghana will feel like that for me one day. As we were walking, we passed by this little store with tables and chairs in front of it. A guy and a girl were sitting down, and the guy shouted out to us, "Hey, Romeo and Juliet!" Then we told him that they were Romeo and Juliet and he said, "No, this is my sister!" It was just his friend, but saying she was his sister was saying that she was his friend. We sat down with them and chatted for about an hour. They were really nice. The guy told us his name was Albert, although I thought he said Abit at first. The girl's name was Maude. She works at the store. Albert gave us his whole life history, how he left home at 14 to start travelling the world, living in Baghdad and Berlin, and he said he didn't tell anyone he was leaving. So when he came back three years later, everyone was surprised to see him because they thought he was dead. He asked me if I was married. I'm pretty sure that it was the first time I've ever been asked that outside of an application of some sort. I told him I wasn't, and he said he wasn't either because Ghanain women were no good, they are only interested in money. Maude assured us that this was not true of all Ghanain women. It was all in good fun. After the chat, Tania and I had to catch the bus to go tour the University of Ghana at Legon. The campus is huge, although it makes sense with 28,000 students. I'm very excited about taking a course or two there as well as at Ashesi. I feel that I'll find better Ghanain companions in my classmates at those two institutions than in the hustlers on Oxford Street. The rest of the day was somewhat uneventful - hanging around the NYU center, information on IT here, dinner at Tante Marie (although a few students and I had some great laughs brainstorming ideas for a backpack that dispenses soft serve ice cream through a tube, because we all know, after you reach the top of a mountain, nothing quite refreshes like the Backpack-backfat soft serve dispenser... reminds me of an SNL commercial), and then passing out early. I wish I had just stayed up for a little while so that I could have experienced the beach blast, but I guess everything happens for a reason. If God wills it, so be it. Can't complain too much about sleep, although now that I'm up so early, I'll probably get tired really early again. Eh, whateva. I be coo'.

Hmmm... I'll conclude my post with some randomness to give people a better picture of this place. The wildlife in the city here is very interesting. Lots of bats, chickens, lizards, and of course people have cats and dogs. I noticed a funny smell the other day and I realized it was the open sewage ditches that are on every street. People here get very excited when you say something to them in Twi (the local language here, even though many people, most people in the Accra area from what I gather speak English), even if it's not so right. That so does not go down in the States. If a foreigner speaks English, everyone gets disgusted and wishes they would go back to where they came from. Bitches. Everything is so much more personal here. I went with a few students to a little store down the road owned by Auntie Maggie. She's so cool. She's so happy to see you and she wants to know your name and get to know you, and of course, supply you with water, eggs, phone cards, or whatever else she has to sell. I think that's my favorite thing about being here so far. Everything's very friendly and personal. That's one of the reasons I fell in love with Portland, Oregon so much. Although people don't go as out of their way to be nice in Portland as here, people are generally just nice and they don't mind saying hello to you on the streets. One time when I was in a store looking around, the guy working there asked me if I wanted an apple and so he gave one to me. Just random kindness. 'Tis a beautiful thing, a beautiful way of life. I think the AT also had that feel. Everytime I met someone, it was this huge production and we'd talk for a few minutes or a few hours or maybe we'd see each other a lot for several days and become great friends. I think the lack of this sort of attitude is what bothers me about New York. I grew a little weary of the city last semester because of that feeling of loneliness, the feeling that no one cares about anyone else, even though it's really more on the surface than it is in people's hearts. And I realize it's a practical thing not to greet every person one sees on the street, but it's hard to call a place like that home. Anyway...

January 8th, 2007

Well, here I am. In Ghana. Crazy, no? I arrived at the airport last night around 9pm, me and 18 other NYU kids (there are 35 in total, a few of which don't actually go to NYU). I got to my dorm, Church Crescent, where I will be living for the next four and a half months. It's friggin' amazing. Seriously. I did not expect to come to Africa and live in what seems to be a beach resort. The rooms are huge and amazingly clean, high ceilings, a friendly kitchen, nice bedrooms, marble bathrooms, large terraces, etc., etc.

Of course, we must all remember that this is not the norm in Ghana. From what I hear, I am living in one of the more upscale middle/upper class neighborhoods called Labone. It's about a 15-20 minute drive from Accra, the capital city, which I have yet to experience. All in good time, though... The nieghborhood is primarily residential, although there appears to be plenty of businesses, vegetable stands, street vendors, coffee shops, hair salons, and such. There's lots of gorgeous trees, bushes, flowers, and whatnot growing in front of houses and around the neighborhood. Most everywhere is gated in and protected by security systems, or in the case of this residence, a guard and a security system. The buildings are very colorful, lots of normal white but also plenty or orange, pink, yellow, blue, and green buildings. There's pretty much always a good amount of people on the streets walking around. They seem very hospitable. Most everyone either greets you or kindly accepts a "good morning" and returns it. I won't speak too much more of the neighborhood since I haven't had a good chance to explore it. But as I said before, all in good time... Oh, and one more thing. The street signs here are really awesome. Instead of just labeling the streets with a name, they have lots of signs at most intersections that point in a certain direction and say, "Such and such restaurant" or "Labone Dental Clinic" or whatever might be down that road. I think it's pretty cool.

So, you may be wondering, what's the weather like in Ghana? Well, I've only been here a little over 24 hours. Here's what I've learned so far. For one, Ghana is hot. This I expected, and being from the Dirty South (what, what), heat is not such a shock. In fact, it's quite pleasant and relaxing. Right now we are in the Dry Season, although it is quite humid (it just isn't going to rain). There's an intense haze to the city. My guidebook tells me that this is because of winds that blow in dirt and dust from the Sahara Desert. If that's true, then that haze has traveled pretty far. It's especially easy to tell when an airplane passes overhead because it's actually quite difficult to see. So a glimpse at the sky will get you no clouds, no stars, a very small (though hot) sun, and a lot of haze. Besides that, there's a strange scent in the air, sort of a smoky smell - not bad, just strange.

So, let's see.... I guess I could write a bit about my day. I woke up around 6:30am, about when the sun came up. I awoke to the sounds of a person scrubbing stone, Ghanain babies crying, and a rooster. I also awoke quite hot, but hey, I guess I'll just have to get used to that one. I slept pretty well, although not very long since I slept a lot on the plane ride over. And oh yeah, I think I started experiences a few of the side effects of the Larium (my medication I take to prevent getting malaria). It wasn't bad or scary or anything, but I was having the weirdest thoughts as I was falling asleep last night. I don't even remember what they were now, but they were weird. Well, I do remember one thing. In my half-wake, half-sleep state I "dreamt" I saw my roomates shadow and he was standing over me. That did kind of freak me out. Although he was actually snuggled up nicely in his bed. Oh yeah, my roommate is a guy named Dipesh (like Depeche Mode, although I like to think of him more as Dipesh a la mode). He's really cool. He's into music, media, and politics. He plays the guitar and works on music production and whatnot, listens to a lot of reggae, makes people feel good when they are talking to him.

Okay, so back to my day. I woke up at 6:30, made some tea and got some tropical fruit juice. I walked outside to experience what I described earlier as the weather in Ghana. I did some hardcore stretches for about 30 minutes or so. I felt that I really wanted to be nice and stretched for my first day in Ghana. Apparantly I was the first one up, or at least that's what Linda, one of the CRA's here, told me. The first girl I saw up and out of the dorm (Tania) told me she was going for a jog with another girl (Samute - could be spelled wrong - it's like se-moo-tay), and so I decided to join them. It felt so good to just run around and let out a whole bunch of energy that I'm actually pretty surprised I had. We ran around the neighborhood for a while, although I had to drop out before they did. I got a little confused on my way back to Church Crescent, but luckily I ran into them on what I thought was the right road and they pointed me in the right direction. Then I had some water. And it was good. Then I made oatmeal. And it was fucking awesome. Oatmeal is probably the plainest and most wonderful food under the sun. I could not survive without it. Then I had some milk. And let me tell you, it tastes pretty weird. I don't want to say it's a bad taste, but it's definitely not a good taste. But what's even weirder is that you don't have to refrigerate this milk until it's been opened, at which point you must "consume rapidly."

Alright, so enough with breakfast. I showered, and then we all departed for orientation at the NYU academic center. The facility is very nice. Beautiful landscaping, stone walls, outdoor classrooms, water coolers, computers, lizards. All one could really want from an academic center. We met the staff and received little welcome speeches and whatnot. We went over our calendar of events for the semester which sounds super exciting. We have trips planned to Cape Coast, which was the departure point for slaves leaving Africa in the trans-Atlantic slave trade, Kumasi, in the central part of the country, Tamale, in the north part, Wii falls, and um... maybe some other places. I don't remember right now. Then we went over all kinds of important safety information, most of which is fairly common sense when you consider the circumstances. Don't walk around with laptops, don't walk around after dark, especially alone, don't ride bikes at night, always be on the lookout, yadda yadda yadda. But as much as the staff stressed safety, they equally stressed that "Ghana is one of the safest places under the sun" (straight from Kenneth).

Then we had lunch at a restaurant called Headlines Hospitality. The food was super delicious. Worth noting were the watermelon juice, this very spicy spinach dish, fried plantains, curry chicken, and the assortment of vegetables. Then we came back home at which point I took a much needed and very refreshing nap. Then we had a meeting with the CRA's, Linda and Gerald, both delightful souls. They live with us in the Church Crescent compound and are hear to assist us in our experience living in Ghana as well as make sure we follow the rules about using electricity, cleaning, visitors, drugs, etc. We can have alcohol, which is a huge plus, as long as we don't get super wasted and act a fool. After the meeting, we went to dinner at Tante Marie, which we'll be eating at a lot this semester (dinner Monday through Friday). The food was fabulous. Apparently the restaurant is tops among West African cuisine. We had rice, chargrilled chicken (which rocked my world), vegetable soup, salad, little pizza thingies, plaintains, and some random spicy sauces. Mmmm... it was delicious. Then we all came back home and now here I am blogging the night away. So yeah, I think I'll go now. I'd love to write about all the amazing people I've met so far, students as well as staff, but well... I'm just tired of typing. Peace.