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!
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