Ghana Round Two

Landed in Ghana. My initial feeling was comfort and sameness, as if an entire year had not passed. But then as we drove away from the airport I noticed the massive new Ministry of Defense building (apparently funded by the Japanese according to Philipe my taxi driver). Not even a hole had been dug where this massive building now stands as of my departure last August. I also noticed several new fancy banks that were not around when I left either – with grounds so impeccable and clean you would think it a palace housing the monarch rather than a house to money.

Lining the street of banks were the ambulatory sellers with their baked goods, cloth, and newspapers. I can’t help but notice the contrast, the contradiction between them and the banks. I know their lives are very hard, but I find them beautiful in their colorful patterns possessing a grace and balance I can only dream of having...

I got to the house with complete ease and familiarity. But when I arrived, I find one of my favorite Ghanaian friend’s wife is there to greet me. I didn’t know he had a wife?!?! (a year has clearly passed). I unpacked, which was entirely frustrating as I seemed to have packed all wrong and by that I mean I brought everything I own with me (FOR 10 DAYS!!!), showered (yup, the shower head works - no hot water, but its too hot for hot water anyhow) and then I headed out…it is not even 11am and despite my caffeine injection, I am fading fast.

I bought a phone from street kids who assured me they would buy it back when I leave, the keys stick and it is in French, but they were sweet and they were real salesmen, so I guess maybe I am just a sucker or maybe the Bradt Guide warning that no matter how shoe string my budget is, the majority of the people I meet (selling goods on the street especially) are far worse off than I am.

As I walked down Oxford street, I ran into several familiar faces - sellers mostly. There is one in particular that I stopped to speak with and it seemed he remembered me too. Joseph is in a wheel chair, but he is out on Oxford street all day, every day. Last year after a long hot day, when we had both been waiting for a tro-tro for longer than we should have or wanted to wait, we decided to share a care. This started our hellos and goodbyes as we bonded over our Teshie/Nungua connection. I am amazed he recognized me and perhaps even more so that I recognized him in my lack of sleep induced haze. Running into a friend, no matter how tenuous a friend it may be, makes me feel like I have returned to one of my many many homes.

I have made it to a coffee shop that is supposed to have internet. I bought my 5 cedi coffee, which is about 5 times as much as lunch on the street would be, and sure enough the internet doesn’t work. Between the internet and the GIGANTIC smashed roach on the bathroom floor, I know I am right back where I am supposed to be in this mystical place.

UNICEF Stats on Ghana

Statistics

The Gift from Gifty

Today was one of those days when I was reminded why I travel. I woke up feeling lethargic and rather "over" my Ghana experience. I have even been toying with leaving a little bit early so I can make it home for a friend's wedding, but I am not sure if I will be able to finish my research in time or not. The morning had me thinking of making that change and making it FAST.

It turns out the little black things, which had been floating out of the beans I was soaking were definitely alive at some point. And the massive cockroaches camping out in the silverware drawer (or cutlery drawer in Ghanaian terminology) turned into an insurmountable mental roadblock between me and my properly stirred morning coffee.

I grudgingly headed to my interview with a man that clearly appreciated having someone listen, and I failed miserably at feigning interest as he droned on about the US having all the answers to development, and that we just needed to share it with our "poor third world brothers." BARF.

By the time I returned home (a little after noon), I wanted to crawl into bed and shut out my Ghanaian experience, but could not because I had plans to meet Gifty in Nungua (the town where I used to live).

I met Gifty through Sabrina; they taught together at St. Michael's primary school. We didn't have the best of start she and I. The first day we met she asked why I cut my hair so short and when I was unable to give a proper response, she burst out laughing. Needless to say, I was offended (although thinking back it seems that my offended-ness was probably unwarranted).

Today we met so she could take me to her dressmaker where I would finally turn this lovely piece of fabric I have been drooling over into a dress :) We went to the dressmaker and the four woman all laughed at my descriptions of how I wanted my dress "very low" in the front. (side note: modesty in Ghana means "plunging" necklines that hit at my collar bone) I also explained the design for a skirt with some fabric Sabrina had left over. We will see if they come out anywhere near the description. Whether they do or not, I made some new friends, laughed a little and both items together cost a grand total of just 7GHc (about $4.85).

After leaving the dressmaker, Gifty took me to the Nungua market where she does her shopping. She was determined to find me some good quality beans -- free of bugs. We took a back route through a neighborhood crossing over the open streams of sewage where the children play. The kids kept calling me teacher (they thought I was Sabrina, but if you see the two of us, we couldn't look much different). Gifty encouraged me to practice using my Twi to greet her friends as we passed. She and they were patient with me as I butchered it several times over. It didn't take long for me to get caught up in the experience and to forget, if only for just a moment, that I am still just an Obruni who does not belong here at all.

Gifty and I wove in and out of the market hand in hand until we had collected all of the necessary food stuffs to make Okro Stew (and fried plantains - these two don't go together at all, but oh well). I promised Gifty I would practice on my own and then when she was free, she and I could make it together at my house. She agreed.

All in all, I spent a total of two hours with Ms. Gifty, but I am oh so grateful for those few hours. She recharged my nearly depleted battery and reminded me why, in the end, I am here in Ghana and why it is that I love to travel (and learn) so much.

It is simple really -- I love travel because I meet people like Gifty. She took me under her wing, not because she wanted anything in return, but because she is honest, fair and sincere. She told me that she wakes up every morning and lives like she thinks Jesus would have lived, which as she explained to me, meant that the dressmaker only charge me what she charge everyone else, and that you don't try to make an extra profit just because you think I have money. Our totally different backgrounds and lives became irrelevant, because in the end we are both just people trying to be as human as we can be, and she helped me to understand this.

It is the people like Gifty and the few hours in the market together that stay with you long after you leave a place, long after your photographs become faded (it sounds cliche, but it is true). Such experiences restore my faith in people, which has been slowly depleted by the constant hisses, hassling and calls of "white man." I would have never met Gifty nor interacted with her had I not traveled to Ghana, and now I would go as far as to call her my friend.

Today was a much needed respite from the continual daily reminders that I don't belong here and that maybe I shouldn't even be here. Today, I was reminded why I travel and for that I should really thank Gifty.

Blogger MIA

Hi all...I have been a terrible blogger the past week or so...I had such an amazing trip to Cape Coast that the reality of being back in Accra and research has not been much to write home about (literally).

It has been an incredibly busy week of interviews and my professor asked me to switch up my research in kind of a major way. So I have been scrambling to get my act together. I spent the weekend in and around Accra. I volunteered at a really bizarre youth conference on the state of the African Union (three of their "featured" speakers were video recordings), went to the international trade fair (where I bought low fat milk from South Africa - so much for minimizing my carbon foot print), and hung out at a new beach close to my house.

I have been crazily running all over the city to talk with people from the major parties to wrap up my research...I am feeling I could probably stick around for a long time and study the state of democracy in Ghana, but I am ready to return to warm showers, food without bugs in it, and drinkable tap water.

Today, I am off to see the electoral commissioner and head of the National Commission for Civic Education...fun times, really fun times. There may be a trip up to the Volta region in the works for the weekend and it is possible I will return to greater Accra a queen, but we will see how it all pans out, and what exactly will be my queenly responsibilities.

Nothing is as Simple as Black and White

I had an incredible weekend in Cape Coast, Elmina and a tiny little place known in the guidebook as Amenyi. It was a weekend of mind-blowing historical sights, new friends, and a fair amount of questioning.

I arrived in Cape Coast on Thursday night after about 5 hours of travel in a tro tro. It was not really THAT far, I think around 150 km from accra, but there was the usual traffic to be battled. The place we stayed, OASIS, was right on the water and we had our own cabana with running shower -- quite frankly it felt like a honeymoon suite particularly if one can use a little imagination and dream the mosquito netting into a bed canopy. the beach, which was audible AND visible from bed was a bustle of fishing activity. John went swimming, but I wasn't as brave. The dead dog that washed up on shore made up my mind for me rather quickly.

As far as the city of cape coast itself, I wasn't overly enthralled with it. I woke up early Friday morning (6:30am) to enjoy the beach. Then I walked the town. I saw remnants of the old city in Santo Domingo albeit an unrestored version. The looming buildings were neither trendy nor symbols of modern-day wealth, but utilitarian.

It wasn't just the colonial infrastructure that gave Cape Coast a very different vibe than Accra or Teshie/Nungua (where I have been living), but the locals we met seem to have been shaped and molded by the endless influx of tourists to see Cape Coast Castle. We were hassled, I mean REALLY hassled, everywhere we went from the hotel to the castle to the restaurant along the shore. John used a rather hilarious and emphatic NO! which usually drew a smile from it's victim, while dually freeing us from the heckling. We also caught glimpses of the sex tourism that seems to draw itself into beautiful beachy places, but the most notable of sights was definitely the castle.

It is hard to find the appropriate words to describe Cape Coast Castle, and it was even more challenging for me to comprehend the scope of the atrocities committed there. The castle was originally set up for the trade of goods by the British, but this changed when the trans-atlantic slave trade proved to be a more profitable pursuit. It is important to note, however, that the trade of human slaves existed long before the Europeans arrived to extract the natural resources from West Africa; the colonial powers introduced the trade of humans across the sea. And while colonists, particularly the governors, committed crimes against humanity that are absolutely unimaginable, there was also a network of local powers that served as accomplices in the exportation of their fellow West Africans.

The most powerful reminder of what happened here at Cape Castle is no doubt the slave dungeons. Our group of 30 stood in some of the rooms together. We filled nearly half of one room that is alleged to have held between 250 and 300 male slaves at a given time. The only access to air and light came from three small holes in the ceiling. The tour guide pointed out a mark on the wall about two feet from the floor, demarcating where the floor had risen due to human waste, blood and bones. The slaves were kept in these dungeons for three months, the same length of time for the journey to the Americas. The Europeans used the dungeons to separate the weak from the strong. Many of those that survived the dungeons, were subjected to even worse conditions on the boat, and ultimately met their deaths en route to the Americas...

The symbolic "Door of No Return," leading out to the sea has now been marked on the outside with a sign for the "Door of Return" to symbolize the re-engagement between African-americans, -caribenos, and -brasileiros and their African roots. The castle itself is a UNESCO World Heritage site and is extremely well kept (it could also be that it was cleaned up for Barak and Michelle's visit a few weeks ago). I felt disconnected while I was in and around Cape Castle. Something about the shiny white walls and absence of personal slave stories left me wanting more information and feeling so very far away from the actual history of the place in which I stood. I suppose I may have found this information in the Museum, but unfortunately it was closed.

On Saturday we headed to Elmina, a town about 15 km away from Cape Coast. The fort there was built in the 1480s by the Portuguese (hence the original name of Cape Coast as capo corso meaning short cape), but by mid 17th century it had been captured by the Dutch. Elmina was nothing short of haunting. The walls are falling down, the smell of immonia and fermentation is almost overwhelming, and the stories of what the women slaves were forced to endure struck a nerve.

Our first stop was to the women's dungeon. Our tour guide explained how the governor's quarters overlooked the courtyard in the middle of the dungeons. He instructed us in how the governor would stand above and pick out the women he wanted to rape. The women entered his large quarters through a trap door connected to the dungeons. It is nauseating to even try to imagine having to choose between a public caning, naked, while lifting cannon balls in the courtyard or the alternative raping by the governor. It is equally difficult to understand the mindset of the governor who slept peacefully in his 3-room penthouse with a perfect view of the sea above a room stuffed with hundreds of naked women, any of which he could have whenever he wanted. It is hard to see the humanity in either side of the situation.

We also learned that mothers who became impregnated from the raping were separated from the others, and the children were oftentimes separated from the mothers who were returned to the dungeons after childbirth. Formal education got its start here in the slave castles, because the colonizers wanted to educate their mulatto children. No one knows, however, how many children never made it that far as many mothers would kill their babies in the ultimate act of motherly love and protection. The castle at Elmina was powerful. Throughout the remainder of the weekend, I found our conversations peppered with questions about race, development, Ghanaian culture and what exactly was our role in any of it.

Saturday night we said goodbye to John (who was headed to INDIA!!!) and headed to Amenyi to meet a few girls we had met the night before in Cape Coast. We went to a tiny guesthouse off the beaten path said to be a "self-sustainable, eco-village." It had changed ownership since the writing of the guidebook, but was still a welcome haven to offset the heavy historical sight-seeing. Ko-Sa Cultural Center is undoubtedly a must for anyone traveling to Ghana. I would recommend travelers to see the castles at both Elmina and Cape Coast in the daytime, and to stay at Ko-Sa even though it is about an hour in transit outside of Elmina. The food, cabanas, and serene beach were like nothing I have experienced yet in Ghana and at the mere price of $7 per night you cannot go wrong. We even treated ourselves to a bottle of MALBEC with dinner.

We returned Sunday night late; naturally we misjudged how long it would take us to get home. I was supposed to move for the third time, but by the time I got home, I just couldn't muster the energy.

Monday I moved into OSU in Accra. It is a touristy, westernized neighborhood, but it is centrally located and I can walk anywhere I need to go. I am living in a house which is part of a compound. I love with three other americans (two go to the U of M!!!) and a cuban guy. The house is nice with a kitchen, running water, a 24-hour security man and lots and lots of cockroach friends :) I have my own room and fan with a luxurious cross breeze. The freedom of living on my own without an 8pm curfew and little kids climbing all over me at the end of the day is welcome, but I am very grateful for what my host families taught and shared with me over the past month in regards to life in Ghana. The graciousness and hospitality of all has been truly remarkable. I already feel a little bit lonely without them.

ghanaian hospitality

for me these types of days don't happen all that often, because i absolutely love the challenge that comes with learning the rhythm to a new place, but by mid-day today, i had that "off" feeling of homesickness. i think it was the thud i heard from the tro tro on my way home from the university, which turned out to be a man. everyone was yelling in twi and his face was covered in blood. i really, really wished i could understand what was going on beyond the obvious fact he had been hit...i am kind of used to feeling out of the loop and normally it really doesn't bother me, but there are days and instances when you really just want to know and today was one of them.

i didn't get to see what happened to the injured man as we only stopped about 30 seconds, but he was surrounded by ghanaians, which means he surely was being taken care of.

i am not entirely confident that it comes off in my blog how ghanaian culture is truly hospitable and friendly. i can't count the number of times, a ghanaian i have just met walked several blocks out of their way to get me where i need to be, demanded a refund for me when the tro tro mate has charged too much, bought me drinking water or some other treat, or tried to give me one of their personal belongings...i used to try to fight it, but this morning when the man next to me in the tro tro informed me that he had already paid my fare, i just thanked him and wished him a nice day. i have yet to be afraid of getting lost, because although i have been a bit disoriented a time or two, every single time, i was able to find my way due to the kind directions of a local. i do realize some of the "giving" i mentioned above may have to do with me being a foreigner visiting their country. but i find giving without expecting a return quite common in ghanaian culture and honestly quite remarkable.

speaking of giving, i went to see Dr. Robert at the University, the cousin of a childhood soccer teammate. he has taken such great care of me, and he had kindly agreed "endorse" my research so that I can use the "public" resource library at the CDD despite the fact that he has nothing to do with my project at all.

after i picked up my support letter from dr. robert, i met with another professor in hopes of getting some contacts for my research. this professor is a pretty important guy in ghana or so i have been told, i mean he is the official linguist to the ashanti king after all. he also happens to be head of the african studies department at harvard, his home university, and he appears to be a total badass (sorry mom, but its true). i was early for my appointment with him (ahem by an hour) and he was late by about an hour and a half, which meant i waited around for about two and half hours thinking of what i should be doing...thankfully i brought lots of reading along to entertain myself, but this waiting-thing that i am learning to be pretty good at, is really quite tiring. in the end i really hope it was worth it, and that the impromptu meeting in his mini van, on the lawn of the law school, and the walk in between the two will lead to some new contacts.

although this very busy professor knows a whole lot of people, he kindly reminded me just how hard it is to get people to talk to you, but he said he would ask some favors...which is truly ghanaian of him.

tomorrow i head to cape coast (following in the footsteps of the obamas). i am going to visit one of the main castles through which the atlantic slave trade was funneled, be a beach bum, stop by elmina (the home town of the communist party candidate) and hopefully see mole national park as well. i am also finally going to meet ms. liz's friend, john, who has been traveling around Africa all summer. i can hardly wait to have a beach buddy, share a beer and hear all about his undoubtedly crazy adventures.

and what did you do today?

i get that question a lot. either someone at home or a new friend on the tro tro will almost always ask any combination of the following questions: are you american? are you christian? where do you worship? and dun, dun, dun: what did you do today? and despite some variation, my days are beginning to fall into certain patterns, yet i still have a hard time answering this very question.

today, i decided i would finally take my computer in to that specialist in osu (also known as oxford street). i spent an hour or so at the internet cafe researching CODEO (coalition of domestic election observers) because i had an interview will one of the members scheduled for 2pm. after my internet binge, i changed my last $100 US dollars and decided to walk to the big United Bank of Africa to find out whether or not they will take a debit Mastercard. Note to all future travelers in Ghana -- the guide book is not kidding when it says only VISA is accepted. i have been here nearly 4 weeks and i still have yet to use a credit or debit card. however, i have used up the stash of cash i brought along and i am keeping my fingers crossed that i will be able to find a bank somewhere that can accept MC...

so, i decided to walk to the next town, teshie, to avoid traffic and stop by the bank. it was no real surprise that the bank did not accept mastercard, but was able to suggest a handful of places that they thought "might" accept mastercard. the scavenger hunt continues.

i hop on a tro tro and head into accra. i stop in Osu, which is one of the two Accra neighborhoods covered in my guidebook. it is popular with the ex-pat crowd and rumored to be extremely overpriced. they do, however, have koala grocery store where one can allegedly find any and all of the western goods they could possibly desire. i, myself, have done without truly "american" foods and goodies for so long now that koala holds absolutely no appeal. truth is i am actually counting down the days till i will be preparing my own food and can frequent the numerous plantain stands along osu. the street is a hub of activity and i might as well get to know it as it will be my new home starting next sunday eve. (yes, i am moving AGAIN)

it was a quick jaunt to the computer store. the store was stocked with all the most modern electronic devices and the friendly, professional sales people outnumbered the customers by far. a sweet girl at the help desk remembered my call from the day before and told me to take a seat while she found a technician. while i waited, i decided to take out my computer and attempt to turn it on. to my complete and utter astonishment, the screen lit up. my computer works after all. it is extremely slow, which according to the technician could be a virus, memory problem, or a sign that the operating system is on its way out...whatever the culprit is, i feel as if i got a new lease on life (or research at least). although this time around, i will be backing up DAILY.

after my mini computer miracle, i met matt for lunch at one of my favorite street stands. i have eaten there 3 or 4 times, and i feel as if i have made friends with the 3 ladies who work there despite there lack of english and my lack of twi. matt had yams, katumbire, palava and a hardboiled egg for a mere 1.10 cedi and i had boiled plantain with palava sauce for 70 pesewas (about 50 cents). food is really cheap, tasty and loaded with carbohydrates. i think i could become extremely obese were i to stay in ghana forever -- either that or turn into a plantain.

after lunch, i headed off to "bola," a muslim neighborhood in accra where i had never been before. i was supposed to find the muslim school called research to conduct an interview. of course, sheikh, my interviewee, did not give me a specific address, but told me to ask around and i would find it. there really are not addresses from what i have gathered in ghana. directions are based on landmarks for the most part, which can at times be problematic. in my particular case, my asking around got me to another islamic school quite a walk away from where i was apparently supposed to be.

i ended up taking a taxi cab back to the "bola" neighborhood and wandered around until i could find the school. i was nearly 45 minutes late in the end, which is apparently not so bad according to ghanaian standards. i met with Sheikh, a member of CODEO, and he was a wealth of information. i was there nearly 2 hours just soaking in all that he had to share. he considers himself a member of the zongo muslims in ghana, a group of muslim that settled in ghana centuries ago, yet still seems to view themselves as settlers. he told me that "bola" means the area where refuse is dumped, which was pretty evident on my walk out of the neighborhood. the bola neighborhood is primarily muslim and it is reflected in the impromptu prayer shrines, echo of prayer and arabic store names. i was definitely the only obruni wandering around, but that no longer makes me uncomfortable.

after my interview, i hurried home to say goodbye to my new british friends and former housemates, emma and jess. as i write now, they are mounting a plane and are just 12 hours away from warm showers, a fresh salad and truly clean clothes. ok, there may be a twinge of envy, but now that my computer is fixed, my research is advancing and i am headed to cape coast for the weekend, i would not even consider exchanging my month left in ghana for a seat on that plane...