Reflections

Before I get too far removed from my time in Ghana, I wanted to write a post about all of the random things that didn't fit in with my other posts.  Most of these are excerpts from my written journal and I'm not going to even try to fit everything together nicely.  Also, I just stopped by the photo lab and Brain Scannell, the ships photographer, gave me a bunch of pictures that he took from the home stay trip!  (All photo cred. to him for this post.)

Driving

One thing I didn't really talk about yet is the exhilarating experience of driving in Ghana.  Here's from my journal:

"I am a very easy going passenger, but even I was white-knuckling it at some points on our drive yesterday.  Most of the trip was on the highway which was a bumpy two lane road (with no divider of course).  There was constantly cars swerving into us coming head-on to dodge a slow, overweighted truck or a broken down car (there were many of those) or even person.  THe skilled bus driver navigated what to me seemed like a very difficult level of Mario CArt with the help of his horn.  I'm becoming quite interested in how people in different countries se their horn.  In Dominica, the drivers used the horn to greet drivers that they knew or to warn oncoming traffic of our presence on a blind curve.  In Brazil, the horn was mostly used as a rebuke for bad driving (though used more liberally than in the STates.)  In Ghana, the use of a horn seemed to be its own language and served many purposes.  The main use of several quick honks seemed to say, "coming through and I am bigger than you so MOVE!"  Our driver used this liberally when passing slow cars, as Tros-Tros (bus taxis) started to pull out in front of us. or when people were walking in the street.  We had one close call where I swore we were going to hit someone., but he leaped out of the way at the last second.  Then there was the "thank you" honk, the "hurry up" honk, and the "you almost killed us, you crazy dillhole!" honk.  Did I mention there were no seat-belts?  The driving was quite an adventure in itself, but there was still more to experience in Ghana."  Good times!

Cocoa

I may or not have had the experience of eating raw cocoa fruit.  Anyone in the know feel free to correct me if I am wrongly referring to this fruit as cocoa.  There was some confusion in translation, but I'm pretty sure what I ate was from a cocoa plant.  Anyway, as I was sitting watching the evening meal being made at the home stay, Sara brought me a strange looking fruit that she had picked from a tree by the river.  The fruit was slightly football shaped with ridges around the outside.  It fit nicely in an open palm to give an idea of the size and was yellow with a tint of green at each end.  The treat came from the inside of the fruit.  Sara expertly broke it in half and showed me the inside.  It was filled with neatly organized rows of coin sized seeds.  The seeds were coated in a slimy off-white substance.  I was surprised when Sara said it was cocoa and I should eat some of the seeds.  She showed me how to suck the slimy white stuff off of the seed and then spit the seed out.  The texture was frightening for sure, but I tried it and it was actually ok.  Not something I would seek out to eat, but I didn't gag or anything.  I was expecting it to taste like chocolate, but it tasted just like fruit.  Sweet and organic tasting.  On my second seed, I remembered that chocolate had caffeine in it and I couldn't remember if the cocoa plant would have high amounts of caffeine or not.  Not wanting to risk it, I only had a couple more seeds.  It was a short experience in terms of time, but pretty cool to (maybe) have tried the fruit that chocolate comes from.  

Warmth

  I managed to finally stay up late enough for a post-port reflection after Ghana!  A post-port reflection is basically a time where anyone can go to the union (the place where all the seating is for large gatherings and classes) and discuss what they did and how they felt about the previous port.  Much to my horror, we had to go around the room and say one word to describe our experience in Ghana.  I tend to dislike forced exercises like this where I always feel like I'm saying the wrong thing.  This time, I feel like I actually came up with one word that covered my experience fairly well.  The word was "warmth."  The easiest component of the warmth was the weather.  It was warm, or to take away any glossing over, it was way flipping hot.  So there's the easy part.  The more complex reason for me choosing that word came from my interaction with many different people while in the port.  In general, my fellow travelers are extremely warm people.  We look out for each other and have fun together.  We see, discuss, process, and experience so many new things with each other and help make each other's experiences a better one.

   The culture I experienced in Ghana was also one of warmth.  I could see the warmth in the family bonds at my home stay or in the support neighbors showed for each other.  One guide said that the political problems in Africa, particularly Ghana come from different places than those in the West.  He said that people in the West seek power for themselves.  They take from others so that they can have more.  In Ghana, if an individual were to find themselves in power or affluence, they would take money in the same way as a corrupt senator would, but they would be doing it to give to their family.  Families are so tight here that a successful person wants to not only give things to his or her immediate family, but to his or her grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, second cousins, and third cousins.  This guide said that it was done out of love, not selfishness.  We didn't really get into how this impacted the nature of power struggle and wealth divide in our two countries.  It was just a statement sent out to the world.  I cannot attest to whether or not this is true, I can only pass on what I guide told me and think about what it means.  

   The warmth I witnessed was not only shared between Ghanaians.  I saw it in how the guides, my home stay family, the students and professors at the University in Winneba, the sellers at the market all showed certain aspects of warmth.  Never before have I been to a place where such an emphasis was put on sharing a part of yourself.  Bargaining was in terms of ceti AND in terms of a token from a distant country, a handshake, a hug, a story.  I was taking something home from "The Ghanaian", and I made a point that they would be able to take something home from "The American."  When I went to the university excited to hear some of the faculty give talks, I was surprised and excited that the question asking went both ways.  It was the same in meeting the market queen or in talking with the fishermen.  It wasn't all a show, it was all an exchange.  Both sides left those experiences with a head full of new things to think about and the satisfaction of sharing a part of yourself with another person.  I think that is so often the goal of travel, and so rarely something people actually experience.  To me, this is warmth.  

Picture time!

  

About to receive my Ghanaian name and welcome gifts.

Dancing after the naming ceremony.

More dancing!

Group photo with the village elders and my little friend I snuck in for the pic.  (We are upper right.)

My two beautiful tour guides discovering my camera.

Out on the town!  

More dancing!  My home stay mom made sure I was dressed well for the occasion.  (Pants were a no-no so she let me borrow some cloth to fashion a skirt with.)

In the bat cave!  (I'm lower right.  And the sitting is actually a pose for the photo and definitely not because i just climbed up a ginourmous hill and am recuperating.  Totally just a pose.)

P.S.  Check out the SAS blog post featuring two of my friends!  http://blog.isevoyages.org/2012/02/15/deaf-student-shares-sas-experience/

Ghana (Day 5)

Presently, I am not able to send e-mail so a bunch of blog entries may be posted all at once.  I hope they stay in the order they were sent so the chronology doesn't get all messed up.  Oh well.  :0)

I woke up this morning after an awesome dream that I was in Ghana.  As I was coming out of the dream more, I remembered that I was back at home and started to get really sad.  Then I woke up fully and realized I really was in Ghana!  It though this was a pretty funny way to wake up.  :0)  

Today was an easy day compared to the rest of my stay in Ghana.  It was a FDP which is like the lab portion of a class I am taking on the ship.  (As opposed to field programs that are for fun and general education.)  In my Globalization and Development anthropology class we have been learning about some of the solutions to poverty in Ghana.  The two main models we have looked at are microlending for the poorest sector and entrepreneurship in the middle class sector.  We got a chance to see both in action on our tour of Accra today.  

Karen and photobomber (don't know his name yet) on the bus with hilarious plastic covered on all the seats.  

   The first stop was to Global Mamas, a non-profit started by American Peace Core vets to give skilled women a market for their products.  There are and have been tons of programs set up for skill training for women, but the women would end up being highly skilled with no access to large markets.  A woman who made purses may have only been able to sell two shirts per week.  Global Mamas connects these women (and some men) to customers all over the world so they can sell up to 80 purses per week.  The organization doesn't just help the women sell the handicrafts though.  They provide the women with the fabric and some of the other materials needed (thread, zippers, etc.) in a form of microlending in supplies instead of money.  That way start up costs don't limit the women's opportunities.  All of the products are of very high quality.  Before Global Mamas starts working with a woman, they go through an interview process to ensure that they will make good products.  This very much showed when I looked through the Global Mama's store in Accra.  The products were so much nicer than what is customary to find in stores at home.  I loaded up on gifts and a couple of things for myself and felt doubly good about it because a) shopping and b)fair trade shopping!  I would really recommend looking them up (they are known as Women in Progress in the U.S.)!  In addition to shopping, one of the two founders of the organization talked to us about how she started up the non-profit and how it is run.  Their main goal now is to expand (they are so busy!) without compromising the intimacy in how the organization works.  It was a great example of a really successfully and thoughtfully implemented idea.  

   Our next stop was part of the huge Accra market.  (I believe it is the largest in Ghana.)  I was a littler nervous based on what I had heard about it from my friends.  They had said people are really aggressive and it is way too crowded and busy.  I actually really enjoyed it and wasn't intimidated at all.  Maybe it was because my friends had done such a good job of preparing me for the worst.  In fact, it really wasn't all that different than some parts of cities at home.  The products were different and there was real danger of being run over by a car as you shopped, but the hustle and bustle was fairly familiar to me.  

Karen and Alyssa at the market.

  We only had a half an hour there so we didn't get to see that much.  We were all supposed to stay in this one square so we didn't get lost or mugged or whatever else our tour guide was worried about.  Naturally, the people I was with didn't follow this rule and I had to stay with them or break the other rule (stay in groups).  So shucks, I got to see more of the market.  :0P  I was beyond ecstatic to purchase two vuvuzelas for less than I could get ten of them at home!  I've tried to use one in the past with no such luck, but because of the magic of Ghana, I was able to do it on my first try here.  I guess I got luckier than I thought with the purchase because those were the only two I saw in the whole market and I had three Ghanaians want to buy them from me!  I fully intend on bringing one to the intramural soccer games!  

Wow this is a bad picture. I look ill!

  Other than my proud vuvuzela find, there wasn't much else I wanted to buy.  The market was the real life version of the other economic strategy we looked at in class, entrepreneurship.  The women who were selling at the market are usually middle class women who travel to other countries (usually the U.S. or China), buy goods at wholesale prices, and then come back go Ghana to sell them.  It was funny to find a bracelet I bought at Forever 21 for sale at a booth!  This business model is made possible by some relatively new pro-globalization legislation.   I found it interesting because so often I hear about all the negative effects of globalization and here was an example of how globalization provided a really good living in a fairly poor country.  

In the market, I wanted to take pictures but had heard lots of stories about people getting yelled at or harassed for doing this.  Some of the SASers who got yelled at asked the person why they were so angry and I guess it is because the person worried that the pictures would be published and show a bad side of Africa.  I thought this was strange because the market was pretty similar to some in the U.S. and an example of successful entrepreneurship.  I don't know how that would portray a negative picture of Africa, but I concede that there is probably something I don't understand because I'm not from here.  I did take pictures despite this, although it was done stealthily.  No one seemed to notice and if they did, they didn't care.  I did get screamed at and probably would have gotten hit if there wasn't a bus window between us by a man when I was ironically not taking a picture.  I was just holding my camera in my hand and leaning against the window in a way that it was visible and all of the sudden this guy is pounding on the window and yelling at me.  I showed him I was not taking a picture but he just kept yelling and hitting my window.  It was actually a little scary even though we the light turned green and we drove away before he could do anything.  

Back at the port, I still had some ceti (got the right spelling now I think) left so I bought some stuff and talked with some of the vendors.  I went back to the painting guy as promised and bought a really cool one with some nicely painted African symbols on it.  I still don't know if it was really painted by him, but it was really nice and it was hand painted by someone.  I stayed an talked to him for a bit and he gave me a big hug and said thank you for coming back because he didn't think I would.  I also bought a drum (for asking price) from a different guy.  He was really nice and not pushy at all.  I also talked with him a bit about where he gets the products from and how that process works.  (He travels North and buys things that various villages specialize in.)  It was a really good way to end my stay in Ghana.  

Leaving is always so difficult.  Especially this time because I got to know a family.  The only way I can stay sane is to assure myself that I will be back.  haha  

P.S. Right now the ship is going crazy rocking!  It's the worst it's been yet.  There is a serious possibility I could be launched off my bed.  Cool!  The captain just came on the loud speaker and basically told us to avoid walking around as much as possible in the next few minutes and it should get better after that.  

P.P.S.  It's a couple hours later (I went to a post--port reflection session in the middle of writing this) and we are back to the usual boring gentle swaying of the ship.  

Also some fruit bats for your enjoyment.  

Ghana (Day 3)

   Another bright and early morning!  If I keep this up, I'm not going to be allowed to sleep in until 10 and 11 anymore when I get home. haha  I have to admit I was nervous going into this field program.  It was a cultural immersion overnight where I would be going to a village and spending the night with a host family.  I had all the usual worries in this situation, plus how my host family would react to things like my neck brace and not having as much energy.  At the same time, I was very excited.  It's the mixture of feelings that is common when you know an experience is going to be challenging but rewarding.

  The trip started off better than the last one as I am now much more comfortable with all the new things here and the bus was air conditioned!   I got my usual seat near the front of the bus and spoiled myself by listening to music on my ipod on the way there.  (I usually don't like to do this because though relaxing, it is isolating me from other conversations.)  The bus ride was only about an hour and a half or so and on the way we were entertained by baboons frequently crossing the road.  A bit different than the deer I am used to having to look for!

   I spent the rest of the bus ride thinking about what I expected this experience to be like.  I knew there would be some sort of welcome ceremony and then I would spend time with my host family.  I was kind of pessimistic in that I figured it would be really hokey and touristy.  I bet that I was going to spend the day in a big house and spend the day doing the same things I would do at home.  (That's what my last homestay was like in New Zealand.  Super fun, but not really new.)  Turns out this was definitely not the case.

   

As we pulled up to the village, we were greeted by kids jumping up and down, dancing, and darting between the clay-built houses.  We waved frantically at them from the bus window and they waved frantically back.  It was a very exciting way to start things off!  As we debarked the bus, kids took us by the hand to lead us to where the welcoming ceremony would be.  Since I was one of the first people off the bus, I had primo seating in the front row.  We started the ceremony by shaking all of the elder's hands as we filed in.  Many of them were dressed beautifully in bright blue or yellow cloth and huge pieces of (possibly real) gold jewelry. Then we were called up individually to receive welcoming gifts of a handmade clay pot and painted beads.  We also were given our African name as a symbol of us becoming village members.  I know this sounds really corny, but it was actually a really nice and welcoming gesture.  My African name is Yawa Desiadenyo.  The first name I is based on the fact that I was born on a Thursday and the middle name means goodness. 

 Since the naming ceremony was so long, there would be breaks where the kids would drum and show us their dances.  Even the littlest kids had such a good grasp of the steps and movements.  I think back to how spastic I was when I took ballet at four years old and these kids are nothing like that.  The only hint that this wasn't a completely meaningful experience to the people there was that the elders were definitely bored out of their minds.  They were texting and napping for the most part.  

   After the naming ceremony, we met our homestay family head of household just to see their face and give a quick hug until we would meet back up with them after lunch.  We took a picture of our group with the elders also.  As we were getting into position for the photo, I felt a little hand slip into mine.  I looked down and there was probably the world's cutest little boy who smiled shyly and took my heart forever.  Kids weren't supposed to be in the picture, but I nudged a few people over so he could peek out.  From then until I got on the bus for lunch, he stayed right by me.  He reminded me of myself when I was little because he was very shy but enjoyed watching everything that was going on from a distance.  I hated to have to get on the bus, but figured I would see him when I got back.  (Actually, he wasn't there so I never got to meet back up with him.)  :0(   

   I was nice to get away for lunch to have some time to process everything, but it felt strange at the same time.  Like we had to leave to get better food than what was at the village.  (Every meal was provided by the tour company so we never actually ate in the village.  It was pretty disconcerting.)  I got a little bored sitting at lunch so I walked around the resort where we were eating to scout out some wildlife.  (BTW it was called a resort, but it was more like a cheap hotel with extensive grounds.)  I saw lots of really cool lizards including one that was probably two feet long!  There were also lots of what I think were ibises which was fun to see because I usually only see one at a time.  

   Back at the village, we were once again greeted by the extremely enthusiastic kiddies.  Before I was even two steps off of the bus I had an escort of two adorable little girls in matching yellow dresses with black and white checkered aprons.  They took me to where everyone was gathering to mingle for a bit.  I took out my camera to take some pictures and that was quite quickly commandeered by one of the girls.  I was  a little nervous at first, but she seemed to have a good grip on it, so I left it with her and looked on as she took some very hilarious pictures of her friends and some of the SASers.  Then she turned her camera on me with more hilarious results.  I finally got my camera back after if had changed hands several times and couldn't wait to see all of the crazy pictures I would have. 

(Some good little photographers, eh!?!)

 A group of kids and one other guy from SAS had started a game of soccer and I decided to give it a try since I was feeling pretty good that day.  Guess what.  I still go it!  I was surprised that things came back to me so quickly!  I kept up pretty well for several minutes and was able to show off some moves I thought I would have forgotten how to do.  It felt so good to play again even if it was only for a few minutes and cost me double that time to catch my breath afterward!  

    Then, my two adorable escorts were back and let me to see how the women of the village made pottery.  The lady making the pots was the one of the girl's grandmother so she was very proud to show me the pottery making.  The pots are really cool and expertly made.  I remember struggling for weeks to make a couple of tea cups out of clay, and these women were making beautiful pots like it was second nature.  In the few minutes we watched, the lump of clay took a hollow round shape and a leaf was used to make a perfectly curved out lip to the pot.  We then moved on to see how the pottery was fired.  Basically a bunch of dried pots were carefully stacked in a pile layered with palm leaves and other kindling.  The whole thing went up in  a huge blaze when lit and cooked the pottery by the end of that day.  Special clay was made into a pain and added to the outside of the pots go give them a pleasant red coloring when fired.  

   Finally it was time to go to my homestay family's house.  I went on the bus and grabbed my neck brace and larger backpack to bring with me.  The kids were extremely fascinated by my neck brace which I thought was fun.  I showed them how I put it around my neck and then helped one of the girls who had given me the tour put it on.  The kids decided it made a better had than neck brace so they proudly wore it as I ventured to my home for the day.  

  Another thing the kids found extremely entertaining were my compression stockings.  I think the kids thought it was my skin so when I showed them that I could pinch it and lift it up, their eyes got huge.  For the rest of the trip, kids kept coming up to me to ask to see my silly skin.  I loved it!

   Walking thought he village on the way to my homestay mom's house, I noticed some difference in the buildings.  Some of the houses were larger with courtyards and made out of wood or concrete blocks, while others were as small as one tiny room and made out of clay and a tarped roof.  I wondered what determined who lived where and unfortunately never got to find out.  The house I would be staying at seemed somewhere int he middle of the houses I saw.  It was partly concrete, partly clay with a small courtyard area out front.  There was another, larger building adjacent to the one room structure which I think was the main part of the house.  I walked inside and got quite a treat to see the walls were painted a beautiful bright blue.  (Mom and dad, I know what I'm painting my room when I get home!)  My homestay mom asked what I thought and I said I thought the house was beautiful.  It really was in it's own way, but at the same time I couldn't help comparing it to my home and thinking how amazingly lucky I am.  It's one of those many things I am encountering that is hard to recon with.  One one hand I was sad that they didn't have the things I had at home.  At the same time, who's to say what I have is better?  I wonder if they came to see my house if they would pity me because it isn't like their house.  Or would they wish to have a house like it?   I don't know, and I definitely didn't want to bring it up.  As a bored middle class college student, I used to want to "save the world," but I'm learning that too often the "saving" is doing things that aren't needed where genuine needs are not met because their solutions aren't as attractive to us naive kids in the states.  (We talk a lot about this in my service learning class and I will elaborate in a future post.)

   Anyway, another SASer who was staying with my homestay mom's brother and I gave some gifts as thanks.  I gave a picture I had painted and a deck of cards with pictures of San Jose on them.  That segwayed nicely into me teaching card games.  Let me tell you that this is a challenge with a significant language barrier!  I tried to teach my favorite game, kings in the corner, but that didn't go so well.  It thought back to when I was little and learning card and tried my old favorite game that my grandma taught me, concentration.  This went over much better and I feel like the family learned it well enough that they will play it in the future.  I certainly lost by an embarrassing amount!  I was never any good at that game!  haha

   I was a little worried if things would get awkward at this point, but the kids took over.  My homestay sister Sara (age 14), one of her friends (also 14), and the youngest homestay sister Kafi (8) took me and the other SASer on a fantastic tour of the town.  We first went to the river to get water that would be used for cooking, cleaning, and bathing that day.  I offered to help, so I got to carry a little bucket which I learned to do on my head.  It was a lot harder than I expected!  I got dizzy from the pressure on my neck pretty quickly, so I was doing all the lifting with my arms griping the rim over my head.  That way I could look like I was just steadying it with my hands when really I was not using my head at all.  I was pretty proud that I made it about half way back to the house (including a very steep uphill climb) before my arms and endurance gave out.  The other SASer got his chance to carry it then and he agreed that it was very difficult.  I marveled at how strong the kids were who were carrying buckets four times the size of mine with no visible effort.  

After we delivered the water, they took me back out to meet people.  I met lots of their friends and relatives including some of the siblings from the family who had moved out and gotten married.  There were seven kids in the family total and I think about 4 or 5 were still living at home.  I had the honor of meeting the chief and bowed before I shook his hand as was customary.  I think that was the first time I bowed to someone not as a joke in my life.  In general I find that kind of thing demeaning, but I kind of just accepted it in this case as being part of the honor of getting to meet the chief.  I also saw some of the various chores that people in the village were doing like weaving and crushing these yummy nut thingies.  

   We ended up back at the house so Sara could teach me how to cook botu (correct spelling pending).  She was slightly appalled when I said I didn't know how to cook it and made sure that was remedied.  The dish is made from powder from a root.  The powder can be used similarly to flour as a thickener or bread.  In this case, were were cooking it to make dough that would be dipped in a stew for dinner.  Sara expertly mixed the right proportions of powered root to water in a large cooking pot and then set it over the fire to start cooking.  I got a chance to stir it myself, but didn't last long due to smoke making my eyes tear, and the stirring being too difficult. 

 Again I marveled at how tough these kids were!  As the dough thickened, it got more difficult to stir so Kafi propped a stick against the pot and sat on it to keep it from moving.  My homestay mom, whose name is Gladys by the way, took over for the last part while the kids took a bath at the other side of the courtyard.  She offered to get me water for a bath, but the idea of stripping naked for the whole village to see terrified me far too much to accept her offer.  She gave me the look I got several times during my stay from various adults and kids that plainly showed that she thought I had strange ways.  Fresh from her bath, Kafi walked up and offered me some extremely dodgy looking dried fish.  To illustrate how dodgy I will say that there was dust and spider webs on the fish and also that it looked like that:

But thanks to many episodes of bizarre foods and a blatant disregard for anything I learned in microbiology class, I tried some.  Twice.  It was actually quite good and tasted like fish jerky.  I got to taste the meal when it was done as well.  I chickened out on trying the broth that was really spicy but I did have some of the dough that I had (kind of) helped cook.  Just like the bread made from the root powder, it had a really good flavor, kind of like sourdough toast.  

While the family was still eating, it was time for us to go to the central area where our group was having food catered.  This made me pretty uncomfortable, but I took extra helpings so I could share with Gladys and Kafi who accompanied me to dinner.  The food was fantastic!  I had a tourist friendly version of botu with broth that was not spicy and contained no fish heads.  (I would have been fine with the fish heads though.)  There was also two kinds of rice, mystery meat that was so delicious I didn't care what it was, and fish.  Part way through eating I realized I was getting full even quicker and to a greater extent than usual.  I commented on this to an SASer sitting next to me and she said that the dough literally expands in your stomach to help you feel full.  This made sense for how I was rapidly feeling like my stomach was being blown up like a balloon.  It also made me think about why that was such a staple food.  The people in the village seemed to have enough to eat, but perhaps that was not the case if their main food was made specifically to give the illusion of fullness.  It made me even happier that I could share some of my meal with them!  

Then came the dancing!  A bonfire was lit and some of the older boys started drumming to a fast beat.  Now pretty much a pro at Ghanaian dancing, I jumped right in.  (Oh and by pro, I mean complete spaz by the way.)  My homestay sisters showed me some new moves and then we all joined in a sort of conga line circle.  It was so much fun!  I spent the second part watching as opposed to dancing because I was tired after such a long day!  The family and I ended up going back to the house at around 8:00 to go to bed because we were all so tired.

I wasn't sure exactly what to expect, but it wasn't what happened.  First of all, no bath, and then second of all, the whole household sat and watched me when I laid down to go to sleep!  I wasn't really sure what to do.  Finally the Gladys conveyed to me that she wondered why I was going to go to sleep with my clothes on.  She even started helping me undress until I said quite firmly that I would be keeping my clothing on.  That got me another one of those looks that showed I had strange ways.  Gladys left to go bathe and go to bed and I expected the kids to follow.  Nope!  It was a slumber party!  Sara, Derek (age 10), Kafi and I all squeezed into the one bed.  Talk about me having to get over my personal bubble in a hurry.  I was thinking that I wouldn't sleep at all but I actually fell asleep almost instantly.  I woke up a bunch of times in the night and at one point the two older kids had ended up on the floor.  I was amazed that they seemed perfectly comfortable there with no pillows or blankets.  Then I realized what I was sleeping on was about the same. The bed consisted of a few layers of fabric thrown over some crates.  I hadn't even realized there were no pillows or sheets or anything because I had been so tired.  Somehow it was still all very comfortable so I went back to sleep.  

Morning came bright and early...er well at least early.  It was 4:30 am so it wasn't bright yet.  That' when Gladys came in to get the older kids up so they could start their chores.  It was also when the many animals started waking up so there were lots of goat calls, dogs barking, and chickens clucking.  The animals have free reign here by the way.  Everywhere I've been there are goats, cows, chickens, you name it grazing on the side of the road with no fences.  I wonder how they don't run away, but this is sadly one additional question I never found the answer to.  

You know what, this is getting too long, and I'm once again tired to the point of incoherence, so I'll pick back up tomorrow.  :0)

Ghana Day 1-2

  Ok so I was on the bus right?  Before I continue I'm going to rewind a bit.   I forgot a whole few hours of watching a music performance and hanging out with Ghanaian students and professors before I even left the ship.  I had planned to sleep in, but that went about as well as it ever does on the ship.  I was up at 7:30 am when an announcement was made about something.  The good news is that I had time to go to a presentation and musical performance that was going on in the Union to help us get ready for Ghana.  A diplomat (and SAS alum!) spoke about his experiences living in Ghana and his career path.  Then, the musician who has sailed with us from Brazil to Ghana (who is from Ghana) sang some songs with guitar accompaniment.  He sang some Bob Marley which was fantastic and a few of his own composition.  He is a fantastic artist so I am glad that I did not miss it!

  I met up with my field program group for lunch.  (Some of the people had met  before to greet the Ghanaian students and professors while I was finishing up getting ready.)  It was fantastic talking with them over a relatively decent meal (in boat food terms).  I mainly talked to a guy who is also in his last quarter of school about how his university system works.  I was amazed that it is common to take 5 to 8 classes at once per term at school here!  I feel overwhelmed with four!  I was also surprised to learn that people were all different ages in his classes.  He was 26 and had worked three years teaching before he started college.  In Ghana, people can teach up through elementary school before they need an education degree.  After teaching the younger kids, he decided to go back to school and eventually work in high school or college level teaching.  

  Many of the people who we met at lunch accompanies us onto the bus that would take us to Winneba.  (Yay, now I'm back to where I left off before.)  After about three and a half hours, I was very glad to get to the town of our destination.  Before going to the hotel we had the honor of being welcomed to the town by the council members.  It is common that any visitor stops by the local government office to be welcomed, and then again at the end of the stay to ask permission to leave.  The ritual involved prayer from at least two denominations and an offering of locally made alcohol to the gods.  Once we had the god's attention, the man leading the ceremony also poured a mixture of flour and water over the same area to make sure those tipsy gods didn't get angry at us.  

I was very happy to get to the hotel and lay down after all the driving and standing/sitting/wheeling in the heat.  The room was a bit rough but clean and most importantly, it had an air conditioner!  I got to lay down for a couple of hours before dinner and the nighttime festivities.  

   After dinner, we boarded the bus to visit the local university.  I was more grumpy and hot than excited about this, but I a so glad that I went!  We were greeted by a local singing, drumming, and dancing group who had amazing voices!  I couldn't believe that such richness of sound could come from just voices and drums!  Then the students put on a fantastic dance/drum/singing performance of their own.  The songs were very elaborate and were all very long.  I was amazed that the students could not only remember all the words and steps, but also that they had such good acting talent to go with the story they were telling by the dance.  In a grand finale, some people from our group were taken up to try out African dancing.  Of course, I was one of them.  I was fully expecting to pass out since the dance they showed us was very difficult, but good ol' adrenaline kicked in.  It was really fun to let go of whatever reservations I had and dance in a completely new way.  In addition to the performances, we had a two-way Q&A session with some of the professors and the dean.  We learned all about their education program and told them all about Semester at Sea.  It was nice to have this two way conversation going.  So often when traveling, it is more one way, with the locals showing you something.  (That something is usually more of what they know tourist like, than anything else.  SAme in California, and everywhere.  We know where the money comes from and it's a fun experience, not an authentic one.  haha)  After we got back to the hotel, the rest of the night was fairly nondescript.  I watched an episode of Doctor Who I was delighted to find on my ipod and then went to sleep.  (Ok not so much with the sleeping part.  There was a radio playing at fluctuating volume all night, and the hotel workers started yelling and laughing at around 5:30.  But who needs more than 2 hours of sleep right?

   On to Day 2!  Breakfast was also yummy, although with slightly more hazards than dinner posed.  The large round rolls in the bottom of the picture contained a surprise when one of my friends bit into it.  It was filled with tiny bugs!  So glad I opted for the flat bread instead!  Our first stop of the day was to the center of the fishing part of the village.  This is where a lot of those er..unique smells I mentioned earlier came from.  As soon as the bus pulled up, people, especially kids started gathering around to see what was going on.  Very few Obrunis (non Africans) come to the village, so we were somewhat of a spectacle.  We walked down the street passed small shops and houses to get to where we would be talking with the men who fished.  

First, we got to spend some valuable time with the people from the town.  I didn't have to worry about how to start the conversation because a lovely lady named Victoria came right up to me, shook my hand and we started talking in a few words of English and many hand gestures.  She asked me about the village I was from and I thought it was funny to think of ginormous San Jose as a village.  By her breaking the ice for the two groups, I was able to talk/gesture with many of the women and a few of the kids.  

(Victoria is on the far left.  This picture was carefully orchestrated by her and taken by one of the SASers she picked out as photographer.  She was a really cool lady.)

The kids were very fascinated by us although some were shy at first.  They loved looking at my camera and seeing themselves on the screen after I took their picture.  I'm pretty sure that town has some future supermodels with some of the poses I was getting!  Who would have thought cameras would be such a good ice-breaker!?!

   The talk with the fisherman was also more of a two-sided Q&A than a presentation.  I learned a lot about their daily work and what the market is like for fish.  They thought it was funny that some Americans (aka me, the only fisher in the group) would fish with a pole for fun.  It was something they had heard about, but didn't happen all that often.  They were extra surprised that I was a girl and fished!  We had a good laugh at that.   Also during the talk, I spotted a dried out fishy near the net.  I definitely didn't pick it up and tape it into my journal, because that would be disgusting.  Oh wait, that is exactly what I did.  (Hey one of the professor preserved a dead bat someone found on the ship.  There are more of my kind!)  

  I dragged my feet as we were leaving the town.  I was having so much fun now that the kids had warmed up to us and were competing over the best pose for a picture.  There was a while when I was the only one on the street which was pretty cool.  I was using my wheelchair on and off during the whole stop and was really surprised that no one in the town stared at all!  Not one person!  It felt nice for it to just be accepted that I was wheeling instead of walking.  I've never been anywhere including out to dinner at home without at least a few people gawking at me and my chair.  Eventually I did make it back on the bus and we headed to our next stop.

   I was very excited for this stop and it live up to my expectations.  Just a short bus ride away, the bus let us off to go explore the town's market.  This was very much a local market with no inclination to cater to tourist.  So it was perfect!  I wish I had either more eyes, or a head that could rotate 360 degrees.  There was so much to look at.  Clothes, fermenting or dried fish, spices, cloth, toys, cookware...pretty much anything you would need.  I ended up borrowing a couple of citi (don't know about the spelling but it's $1 = 1.6 citi) since our tour guide had yet to give me any money after I gave her some of my U.S. dollars to exchange.  (She actually ripped me off big time with a horrible exchange rate and then not giving me about $3 worth because she said she didn't have exact change and then blew me off later.  It wasn't a lot of money obviously, but I did get a little irritated.  Oh well.)  and buying a handmade clay pot.  It's traditionally used to hold medicine so that is my new residence of my meddies on the ship.  

  After a bit of shopping, we met with the Market Queen.  She oversees the market and helps settle any disputes that come up.  This was also a two way Q & A session and I was singled out as the American authority on produce for some reason.  haha  I told her (through a translator) about how I go to farmer's markets that are open once a week and how I go to the grocery store for most of my food.  (She was horrified that you could only get really fresh things one day a week.)  Out of the blue during all of this she gets very serious and turns to me and asks if she could go visit America.  I was a little confused and said "Of course."  

  "So just walking down the street, I would be safe?" she asked through our translator.

   "Umm yeah, as long as it wasn't like the bad part of a city at night."  I was kind of confused with where this was going.  (Looking back, I was being a bit thick.)

   "But my skin...." she said and I finally understood.  She said that she knew of people who had gone to the U.S. and were treated horribly and even with violence because of their darker skin.  There were many assurances from us that things are better now and that there are tons of other people with darker skin in the U.S.  Even if the odd individual was a dillhole, it wasn't something that was generally permissible in society.   She seemed very glad at this news and told us that many of the people in the market had been scared when we showed up because of stories they had heard about Americans and the British.  I was pretty much horrified.  It's so easy to think that things like racism don't have anything to do with me.  But when I was at that market, people were afraid of me and it became much more personal.  That experience showed me that I can't just be un- racist and wipe my hands with it.  As long as there are still people out there who would think negatively about someone because of how much melanin they have in their skin, it is everyone's job to fight it.  (and by everyone I mean including me and by fight I mean with words.)  

   We ended the conversation on a lighter note as we discussed what members of the household shop at the market (women) and how often they shop (almost every day.)  After much thank you's exchanged from both groups, we headed to our final destination before heading back to the ship.  Just down the street, we went to a different campus for the same university we went to the night before.  This campus was centered around acting, singing, dancing, and music so I felt right at home!  Just like at my home university, there were signs up about upcoming plays and sandwich boards advertising various clubs.  I have to admit that my positive mindset was loosing it's battle at this point.  I had been hot pretty much consecutively for the past twenty-four hours, I was hungry, and my midodrine was wearing, off so I was getting very dizzy.  I just wanted to get back on the boat, shower, and sleep.   Since we were on Africa time where "now" means "sometime" we were waiting in a very stuffy room for a performance by the dancers to start.  

   Finally, one of the professors who we had come to know got up to introduce the students who would be performing.  There would be drumming, some singing, and the highlight would be the dancing.  He said that at the end, we would be invited to join in.  With that I popped another midodrine and enjoyed the show.  Even in my grumpy state, the energy of the drummers and dancers had me smiling, clapping, and generally enjoying the experience.  I perked up a bit when they gave us a snack from the market and I felt the welcome head tingling that meant the midodrine was kicking in.  

   Too soon, the final song was playing.  In the middle of it, one of the dancers came out to where we were sitting, and I knew right away that I was going up on stage.  Sure enough, the dancer went right to me and led me up on stage to start with the dancing.  Contrary to how I usually am, I didn't cling to my seat and beg to be left in the audience.  Even more contrary to my usual self, I completely let go of all the thoughts of how stupid I looked and thoroughly enjoyed myself shaking my bum in front of tons of people.  Soon, there were lots of other students up there with me and we were hilariously trying to gyrate in the correct way.  The dancing was extremely strenuous because the whole body is involved.  The idea is to constantly be jumping while moving your arms and shoulder blades in opposite directions.   At the end of the song, I thanked the dancers and went back to my seat with a heart rate that probably topped my previous record.  I think it took me a good ten minutes to start breathing normally again, but it was worth it!

  As the performance and subsequent wrap up talk were winding down, I had one of those life-changing epiphany moments.  I was staring off into space, trying to control my breathing/gasping when a thought projected into my brain, "I am SO glad that I got sick."  I was so surprised at this genuine realization that I actually held my breath for a few counts.  Before this, I would think things like "I still would rather have never gotten sick, but at least being sick allowed me to do X"  or "No matter what comes in my future, nothing is going to be able to give me back the four years this illness took of my life.  So I will never be ok with what I was dealt."  And there I was completely happy about the fact that I had gotten sick with no stipulations put on that happiness.   I started to probe my thoughts for why exactly I suddenly felt this way.  I think it was beyond anything like being sick allowed me to get the scholarships that allowed me to go on SAS.  It was even beyond that being sick had given me certain advantages like handling stress and discomfort well or appreciating the little things.  It wasn't that being sick got me any concrete advantage.  It was that some fundamental part of me changed in a way that will make me able to enjoy life more.  And this change is directly due to what I have been through.  It's hard to put my finger on exactly what, but it's something like being comfortable in my own skin, comfortable in who I am and what I can do.  There is apparently something to say about testing your limits and getting to know them intimately.  It is still true that I  had a crummy four years of being really sick, but now it has become a part of me.  It's not this separate thing that ruined my life and made every experience categorized by the nostalgic "before sick" and the bitter "after sick."  Part of the reason why I'm able to feel this way is because I have a feeling that from now on my life will be divided into "before SAS" and "after SAS" with the "after" being the better times.  :0)  

   Just like this post, that epiphany was the peak experience of the day.  The long bus ride  back was broken up by going to a grocery store to get some Ghanaian chocolate (amazing btw) and other necessities like cookies and roasted chicken flavored chips.  The grocery store looked pretty much like the ones in France which was interesting.  

   When I finally set eyes on the MV Explorer I couldn't have been more thankful to be "home."  I embraced the air conditioning and the shower and clean clothes that it held in side.  I went to bed at an embarrassingly early hour and rested up for the next day.

P.S.  I forgot to mention that we spent a few minutes at a beach and I found an awesome octopus spine!  I think it's from the collagen that gives their head shape.

  

And now for something completely different…(Ghana First Impressions)

Nothing in my life experiences leading up to today have prepared me for Ghana.  I guess I like to file away what I see and experience into pre-established categories.  I didn't even realize this until I came here and realized I had so little context to process what I am experiencing.  This makes it difficult to write about because I find myself still thinking in filters that don't apply.  Bear with me as I do my best.

My introduction to Ghana was from the vantage point of a bus window as we traveled the three hours to Winneba, a small fishing town.  I was excited to get going since there was not much to see other than shipping crates where we are docked.  I eagerly boarded the bus, ready to start the adventure and escape the heat only to find myself in a very UNair-conditioned bus.  Uh-oh.  As people started getting on after me, the look of terror was on their faces as well.  It's kind of funny, now that I think back on it, how horrified we all were that the bus didn't have air conditioning.  "Well this sure isn't Brazil," a fellow passenger commented referring to the luxury air conditioned busses we were carted around in there.  After a few minutes of adjusting to the heat, I actually started to enjoy the experience.  It somehow made things more real now that I wasn't using luxury transpiration.  

I made friends with one of the dependent children and a man from the university at Winneba right away by offering some lifesaver mints.  In turn, our host taught us my first lesson in Ghana: how to litter properly.  I collected the wrapper from the kid's life saver and the man was almost horrified when I started to shove it in my backpack for later disposal.  "No no no," he said, "what are you doing?  No.  It's like this."  With that he let his own candy wrapper fall to the bus floor.  I still tried to shove the trash in my pack, but he insisted that was not proper.  So, I threw it on the ground!  (Queue the Lonely Island Song).  I thought it was very funny that to him, saving the trash to throw away in a trash can later was just as appalling as it would be for me to see someone blatantly throw trash on the street.  But we be in Ghana now, so I shall do as the Ghanaians do!   It's really interesting that in a different setting, new things can seem commonplace.  It does no good to think like, "well at home, we do it this way..."  All those comparisons get tiring and distract me from jumping into how things are done here.  Yes, all this from a small piece of trash.

Anyway, I found that looking out the bus window on our three hour trip was a great way to get oriented.  My first views of Ghana once we left the port were very overwhelming so I am glad that I had the time to adjust.  The evidence of poverty was very evident.  There were nice houses and quaint gated communities of course, but the majority of what I saw were small shelters made from bits of whatever was handy including metal scraps, clay, concrete blocks, tarp-like fabric, and scarp wood.  I would find myself smiling pleasantly at the surroundings thinking how exciting this all was until I would jolt back to the realization that people lived in those places.  They weren't just part of the set for my grand adventure.  At this I didn't know what to feel.  I wanted to feel sad, but who was I to judge a rundown house as sadness?  I had no idea what happened behind those handmade clay walls.  There are all sorts of wealth in the world, and only some of those have to do with houses or money.  If I felt sad, would that be demeaning to the people who lived there?  Maybe.  So then should I feel only detached neutrality?  This didn't feel right either.  I have warring voices in my head that yell, "this is horrible!  People should not have to live like this," and "Who am I to judge.  This is a different place, and different things are acceptable."  I'm finding more and more on this trip I just don't know enough to formulate an opinion.  I'm trying to decide if that means it is my responsibility to not form one at all, or if it is ok to form an opinion as long as I remain open minded to learn more.  

The rest of the components of the places we drove through added to the dilapidated view.  Wind brought dust from the Sahara which made the sky look like Los Angeles on a bad smog day.  Yellowish-grey and gloomy.  The ground was made up of red dirt (not unlike California gold country) that also billowed up in dust clouds at any disturbance.   In port, the thick air smelled very industrial due to all of the machinery and storage containers that lined the shore.  But further inland, the air was smokey with countless brushfires that dotted the scenery.  I never quite figured out if these were controlled burns or not, but seeing fire alongside the road or smoke clouds in the distance was not uncommon.  Due to the little care people seemed to give the fires, I'm assuming at least most were planned occurrences.   As you can imagine from the trash disposing policy, there was litter along the roads and in the towns.  Some of it would collect in the huge gutters that lined the streets along with the fetid water and human waste that was already brewing.

And it smells just about how you would expect.  I got used to it quickly though. 

Now at this point, one may wonder how I could say that Ghana is a beautiful country.  The landscape is dusty and barren, the towns are dirty and rundown, BUT the people are what makes Ghana beautiful.  It is not just in how they dress, which does need mentioning.  Most Ghanaians do not just roll out of bed.  Most people I saw or met was dressed very nicely in button up shirts on the men and tasteful blouses on the women.  Almost everyone wore long pants.  Many of the people were wearing things that could be found at any U.S. mall, but there were also some people in more traditional dress with brightly colored, flowing shirts, robes, and dresses.  The school kids were dressed especially beautifully.  The uniforms are almost all brightly colored yellows or blues.  The kids not yet in school were often dressed a bit more raggedy, but that is perhaps because everywhere in the world toddlers are a stained shirt and torn pants waiting to happen.  

As I said already, the attire was just a small part of how the people I saw and met made Ghana a beautiful place.  Everyone was just simply pleasant.  (There I go, making blanket statements again.  sigh.  I'm working on it.)   The curiosity of our interactions went both ways.   There would be shy eye contact as we felt each other out.  Then perhaps a handshake (which are very elaborate and awesome by the way) and asking name, age, and what town the other is from.  In almost every case we would be laughing about something in no time whether it be a failed attempt to communicate or how kids reacted when they saw a picture of themselves.  At every step of the trip, the SASers and the people we met had fantastic exchanges.  It was like a rapid fire Q&A that went in two directions at once.  I learned all about the colleges, fishing life, and markets and shared about my own school, grocery stores, and farmers markets.  I feel like so often when I travel, it is locals putting on an extended performance for us tourists.  Here, I feel like we really are having a cultural exchange.  There is so much learning and sharing with such an open dialogue.  I love it!  

Oh my, all this writing, and I haven't even gotten to the end of the bus ride!  Not to mention I am going on 2.5 hours of sleep so my thoughts are getting more and more fuzzy.  I think I'll wrap this up here and continue in another post later.  Stay tuned...