Classroom on Wheels

Yesterday our seminar class took a trip around Accra to view the rich and the poor neighborhoods, to compare and contrast between America and Ghana, to talk about the issues surrounding these communities, and to push our brains to think a little more about where we are. There are things that I haven’t really thought about that much about since being here, such as gun violence, teenage pregnancy, the relationship between the rich and the poor, where the people in the city go to the bathroom, take baths, and even the similarities between our poor in America and the poor in Ghana. After being here for a month one might think that I would have thought about these things, asked these questions, found the answers, but I’m beginning to realize how much I have to learn, while also understanding my limitations for being able to handle the answers.

The other day at Tot To Teen I was able to attend one of their programs, or assemblies, in which the students were partaking in an inter-school debate. The topic for the sixth graders was sex education. I was a little bit shocked. When I was in sixth grade I could not have told you anything about sex without laughing or becoming uncomfortable and yet there sat 70 fourth graders listening to this debate in silence. The arguments were ones that may occur in the U.S. between parents and a school board, and yet these sixth graders were articulating them perfectly. This was when I began to think about teenage pregnancy, the driving forces, and how this is also an issue we struggle with in America. So when we were driving around yesterday I began to realize how fortunate the students are in the school that I am teaching at, I began to notice the differences that exist between rich and poor here in Ghana – that these students could research teenage pregnancy while children their age were the ones becoming pregnant in Jamestown (a poor part of Accra) was suddenly apparent. It may seem ignorant of me to not have noticed this before now but in coming to a new country there is so much to take in, to understand, all at once.

I have begun to notice people’s reactions when I tell them I am living in East Legon, a rich part of Greater Accra, and wonder what they are thinking.

Just today when I was talking with another teacher at my school he asked me how the U.S. education and Ghanaian education systems were similar and different – wait, how have I not really thought about this before now? I found myself a little tongue tied, trying to think of things to say but not really sounding coherent or intelligent.

Adjusting to Ghana was step one. Now I think I’ve made it to step two – pushing myself to understand Ghana through what I know.

Remaining open to everything is critical but that doesn’t mean you stop questioning. So what’s next? Comparing, contrasting – to learn from one another.

Wait...

Did that just happen?

Just got back from the most whirlwind weekend in the Volta region and I can’t wrap my mind around all that happened. And by whirlwind, I don’t mean at all stressful or frustrating, just an amazing blur.

Melissa, Nikki, and I set out from Archeampong Junction around 6:30 and got a trotro to Madina where we walked to the station there and found another one going to Hohoe. And this is where our knowledge of where we were going, ended.

So we climbed into the back of the trotro and told the mate that we were going to Wli, which is where the highest waterfalls in West Africa are located. There was some discussion between the Ghanaians about where we should get off and where we were actually going but in the end they understood and we began our four-hour trotro ride into the Volta Region.

Speeding down the road, avoiding the holes, roughing it through the dirt, wind blowing wildly through my hair – this was the fastest trotro, making it to Hohoe in exactly four hours. Once we got off a woman helped us get a taxi to our hotel, though we weren’t sure our driver actually knew where that was. He had overheard that one of us had to go to the bathroom so we stopped at a wash area where it cost 20 pesewas to use the toilets, if one could really call them that.

Back into the taxi we went blasting “I love my life” (a Ghanaian song) along the way. We made it to the hotel around lunchtime, got a bite to eat, and then headed to the waterfalls. There we were told that because we had come later in the day we would be unable to do the upper falls, which would take longer to hike. At first I was a little disappointed but decided that it was unreasonable to be and that I would enjoy the lower falls. However, once we got to the split in the trails, we asked what was up the mountain and Innocence, our tour guide (who told us he wasn’t really a tour guide but a student who worked there occasionally) told us that was the way to the Upper Falls. So we asked if we would have time and he said we could try it. Along the way to Lower Falls we had encountered a woman who had asked if we were going to the Upper Falls and when we asked her how the hike was, she replied, “a bit challenging.”

Nothing about that hike was “a bit.” It was a steep incline up the side of a mountain with just enough room for one person to move. We started off at a fast pace, quickly moving up the mountain, and then we realized the going up part, wasn’t ending. Mental check. Innocence gave us breaks along the way, making sure that we were okay, and at one time asking if we should turn around. Although none of us said anything then, we all admitted later that we were all thinking about going back, that we had made a mistake. I jumped in and said “yes” we should keep going (clearly not thinking as my legs became wobbly and I hoisted myself up using my walking stick and grabbing onto a tree root). Let me just say, that walking stick was the reason I made it up the mountain.

We made it to the highest point on the trail and the view was breathtaking. Far off in the distance you could see HoHoe, the border with Togo, and the Upper Falls. I kept thinking to myself, “I can see the waterfalls but how are we going to get from here to there? It’s so far away.” We got closer and closer until suddenly we were standing right next to it looking up at the water cascading down. Walking into the water and looking up was breathtaking. I’ve always thought that’s a cliché way to describe something but that’s what it was – water rippling towards the bank, swirling by me in the wind, blowing me backwards, taking my breath away.

Then it was time to head back down the mountain. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, not really looking up or straight ahead, but concentrating on where we were stepping. A few slips here and there but we made it to the bottom where we even had enough time to go to the Lower Falls. The Lower Falls were equally amazing and the hike to get there is much less strenuous. However, all of us agreed that the hike (if that’s even the correct word to describe what we did) was something none of us thought we could do. To me this shows how mental things can be. Our bodies were physically able to handle it but our minds weren’t, we had to push them, not give in to our weaknesses.

On the way back it was starting to get dark and the bugs were coming out so we did a little jogging back to the entrance. It was actually nice to be moving our muscles and we think that’s why none of us woke up complaining of being sore this morning.

The next morning we got up to try to find a way back into HoHoe. We walked into the center of Wli, a very small town, and stood by some posts. There were no signs of any vehicles and it being a Sunday, I was skeptical of whether we would be able to find a way back. But within five minutes we were in a taxi and on our way to HoHoe. There we found a trotro going to a junction near the monkey sanctuary. We were told that once we got off there we would have to go by motorbike to get to the monkey sanctuary. I must have had a scared look on my face because then the man in front of me assured me that we would also be able to find a taxi. Once we got off at the junction, motorcyclists were waiting to greet us. To my surprise, we all jumped on the back of one of the motorbikes and took off for Tafi Atome Monkey Sanctuary.

There we were, on the back of motorbikes in Ghana, riding to see the monkeys, with not a worry in the world, actually. After waiting for a little while, we set off with a guide and some bananas to find and feed the monkeys. We walked for a few minutes and then began to see them in the trees. Before I knew what was happening one had jumped off of the tree onto my back. The guide gave us each a few bananas to feed and the monkeys jumped from tree to tree, from Melissa to Nikki to I, and peeled the bananas with human-like precision. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

So far, so good – so wait, how do we get back to Accra? Good question. After asking a few of the Ghanaians we decided, with the help of my motorcyclist Emmanuel that we would wait on the side of the road back at the junction for a trotro to Accra. We were hopeful that they would have room for three and that we wouldn’t have to go back to HoHoe (which was in the wrong direction) to get a trotro. Within an hour we were on our way back to Accra after getting picked up on the side of the road. The ride back was a little more difficult; we hadn’t eaten a meal that day and were beginning to feel the wear of the weekend. I think I was probably the crankiest one, but put in a much better mood once someone selling FanIce came by the trotro at one of the stops. Then we were back in Accra and got off at the Accra Mall. Although we weren’t sure about the trotro situation getting back from there, as we had tried it the other night and it hadn’t worked, we were able to quickly get into a trotro and head home.

The amazing thing about this weekend was all that we did without any concrete plan. Without any expectations, any plans, any knowledge really about getting from place to place; with only the help of Ghanaians and our positive attitudes that things would work out – it all did.

Now for the fourth night in a row I am without power. But as I sweat writing this in the dark, I am thankful to be back in Accra and for all of the people that are thinking of and praying for me as I travel around and live in Ghana.

Forgiveness

There are many times in life when we apologize, when we ask for forgiveness, when we want to move forward without further hurt, and we say that we are sorry. We ask another person to forgive us, to realize that we each have of our own faults, and we each will make our own mistakes.

“I think you must forgive,” Grandma Gritty told me the other night at dinner. I asked her how to do this. All of the sudden I felt the weight of this question – How do I forgive someone? Every day here in Ghana we must forgive one another for our misunderstandings, for our shortcomings, for the little things and for the big things. And some days it is easier than others.

Forgiveness and forgetting are not the same: one takes time, the other is avoidance; one makes us stronger, the other weaker; one requires us to be rational and the other is irrational. But how do you do it? How do you forgive and move forward?

For the first time, this is a question I have to answer for myself.

I can’t run away from life, from things going on back in the U.S., from everyone or anyone and I don’t want to. But it also means that while I am here, there are moments that happen there, that will affect me – whether it is now or when I return. And now, is my time for learning.

I talk in the abstract, this is what I am thinking, not directed at anyone or for anyone, not one moment, not one experience – but that for the past year I have been trying to learn how to forgive, and only now am I understanding that I haven’t.

And I am realizing that I also must ask forgiveness for all that I have done.

Volta Region Photos

Just a few photos from my trip this weekend...Wli Falls (Upper and Lower) and Tafi-Atome Monkey Sanctuary. More to come when the power comes back on!

Uncomfortable

They grabbed my arms, looked up at me with begging eyes, tried to get my attention, and all I could do was walk away, to shake their hands off of me, and to ask them to please go. It was the first moment I have found myself in this position. There was any number of things that I could have done, looked back at the girl and given her money, given her food, but I didn’t. It was more than one child. We tried to walk quickly, to keep moving even when they were attached to us, to avoid looking into their faces because really, what else could we do?

It was the ending to an adventurous day in Osu where we ate lunch at a KFC (the only American fast food place that exists), went to Global Mamas to look at the Batik prints, and then attempted to get to the Accra mall, which eventually we did. We found out that sometimes you have to wait in lines for trotros for more than half an hour; sometimes you can’t get on a trotro because people are shoving one another so forcefully; sometimes you might just be better off taking a taxi and paying a little more; sometimes one needs both a FanIce and a FanChoco in one day; and every time three white girls walk down the street, one must be prepared.

Tomorrow Nikki, Melissa, and I will embark on our first trip outside of Greater Accra without the larger group. We will be traveling to the Volta Region where we will stay at a hotel close to Wli Waterfalls and go hiking and see a monkey sanctuary. Hopefully all will go according to plan – oh wait, planning things in Ghana? Yea, right.

Walking into a Storm

Dust was flying everywhere, people were running down the street, collecting their belongings, and hiding – and there I was on the side of the road, trying to move as quickly as possible to get to the trotro, afraid I might be picked up in the storm. Just as I got to the trotro the rain started to pour down and I knew the next hurdle would be getting into the school building. When I walked into the classroom the children were staring at me, probably saying something about my wet hair or muddy feet, but I realized that in this situation I’m the adult, the one that takes charge, and doesn’t get offended if her students are whispering in the back of the classroom.

Speaking of offending people, I decided that same morning that I would introduce them to “Pictionary” because we had some time before classes started and it was raining outside. I split the class into two teams and then we started to play. I realized things were going horribly wrong when they started to yell at one another and yell to me about the rules, the time, and whatever else they were saying. So I took my piece of chalk and wrote “Sportsmanship” on the board. I asked them to tell me what it was and when none of them knew I gave them a short lesson on it. Although there was still one boy in the back of the class glaring at me, I think that the point came across and perhaps I will be able to try another game again.

This all happened yesterday…on Mardi Gras. And I couldn’t resist celebrating Ghanaian style. So Nikki and I did just that. We had met a couple of other international students the other night and one of the guys said that he would cook Jambalaya for us at the International Student Hostel (ISH). It was amazing! (turned out he had started to cook the previous summer so it was no wonder the food was so good). Also, when I mentioned to Grandma Gritty that I wouldn’t be home for dinner because I would be out celebrating Mardi Gras she went into her room and came out with a bag full of beads! Turns out she’s been to Mardi Gras before because of her son who lives in Baton Rouge. I am clearly with the right family.

A lot has happened in the past few days – asking Grandma Gritty for advice, having Felix gasp when he saw the muscle in my calf and ask me, “what is that?!” trying to control a class of thirty-six fifth graders, starting work on my independent project, attempting to set up a pen pal program, learning forgiveness, realizing my own limits, thinking about my own faults, trying not to get run over by motorcycles racing past, receiving exciting news that my mom is coming to visit in May…it’s crazy what happens in one day.

Watching My Watch

Today in seminar we discussed our cultural values in the United States – from freedom to capitalism, from equality to telling it like it is. While we discussed what we thought the top five and the bottom five were in the U.S., we also shared our personal top five values. An interesting discussion took place about the role religion plays in our culture and politics. However, I found the most eye-opening part of the readings and discussion for me was my own personal reflection on the value of multitasking and speed.

At some point last semester I realized that I was keeping track of the time in my head. “Ok Claire, you have until 12:15 to finish folding your laundry. Then from 12:15 to 1:00 I’ll do homework, and then a ten minute break.” I was scheduling my time down to the minute. Looking back on it now it seems kind of crazy until I realize that I’m still doing it! Just this past Friday I decided I would go on a run from approximately 6:15-6:45, then I would do laundry from 7:00-8:00, take a shower, eat breakfast and meet my friends at 9:00. Let me just say, Ghana does not run this way. However, I haven’t found it frustrating which is surprising. When someone says that lecture will start at 9:30 they really mean around 9:45, maybe even closer to 10:00. When grandma says that the meeting at church will be very short, she means we will be staying for over an hour. Ghanaian time is different from my own. It’s something I can accept, can live with, and haven’t had any difficulties with. But it’s funny that I still try to run on my own time. I don’t know if it’s something that will really change while I’m here because it hasn’t been problematic or caused me to be stressed or left me feeling frustrated. I am interested in hearing about what Grandma and Felix think about it though…

To add to this discussion about time - none of the clocks in my house work; when you ask a Ghanaian how long it will take you to walk somewhere they usually say 15 minutes when in reality it's a 45 minute walk; lectures don't actually start at the time they are supposed to; trotros run whenever they feel like it; you never know how long you will sit in a shared taxi waiting for it to fill up with people; and when someone tells you they are coming in the morning, it could be anywhere between the time you get up and noon (or in the case of my grandma's niece, she said she would be over in the morning - turned out she wasn't coming until 1:00).

I run on my time, Ghana runs on its time.

Weekend Walking the Markets

People moving quickly down the street, reaching out to grab your arm, get your attention, holding things out for you to see. Watching where you’re walking, trying to maneuver through people, and looking at all of the products and produce being sold; it can be hectic and overwhelming if you aren’t prepared.

I set out Friday morning with Melissa and Alexandra to go to Madina market to look for fabric. I’ve been walking through Madina to get to my internship, but I haven’t ever entered inside the maze of shops. Most of the market is located outside with people using umbrellas and there are also small shacks set-up selling stuff inside. We ventured into a few of these to look at fabric and attempt to bargain with them. A few of them got upset when we tried to bargain the price down so we moved on and tried not to worry about upsetting them.

I ended up getting three different fabrics (see the photo) and taking them to the seamstress later that day. She let us pick the patterns we wanted from her magazine choices and then she measured us. I am having a skirt and two dresses made because I couldn’t stop buying fabric. Finally during my last debate on whether to get fabric or not, Melissa turned to me and said, “I think that you would want me to tell you not to buy it.” There’s always next time, or even the next day…

On Saturday morning, Nikki and I decided to head into town to go to Makola Market. We really had no idea where we were going or what it would look like but once we were on the tro-tro we met a Nigerian woman who talked to us about the U.S. and helped us when we got off. Although, we did have to leave her because she was on an errand and wanted us to follow her, but we realized that we should adventure on our own. Once we got to the market we entered into the produce and fish area. It’s sort of divided like a large department store would be into sections, but there are no signs, no way of recognizing where you came from or where you are going, and there are only small pathways on which to maneuver past people carrying large items on their heads.

After we got out of the fish area, which was very smelly, we stumbled upon the fabrics. From there we found shoes where I bargained for a pair of sandals. Then we came across the kitchenware and then jewelry, and then finally we managed to find our way out – but where were we? As soon as we got onto the street, we were turned around. It was like we were emerging from some underground tunnel but then had to find our way back to the trotrostation and we couldn’t go back the same way. While we walked in the direction that we thought it was, we encountered many more items along the way. I ended up purchasing a used dress and trying it on in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Finally we made it to the trotro, got on, and headed towards Opokonglo where we were going for a football game with the other CIEE students.

Everything one would need is in the markets. From dish soap to flip-flops, from undergarments to crabs, from jewelry to kitchen knives – it’s all there. It might take you time to find it and bargain but it’s definitely worth the experience as well as the money that you save. Now I better understand the reason for marketing and hopefully during my time here will go with Grandma to see how she bargains, as she was very upset that I paid ten cedi for my used dress (although I thought I had done a good job bargaining from 15 cedi to 10).

My weekend ended with a great conversation with Felix about cultural values. One of the classes that I am in, a seminar titled Living and Learning in Ghana, has been helpful in expanding my knowledge of Ghana and understanding pieces of the culture here. I started to ask about the imposition of Christianity and expressed my difficulty understanding it but I think that it will take time to verbalize how I am feeling about it so I will wait until the right time to ask again. Until then I’ll be thinking about it…

Great News

I've just received an email notifying me that I will receive a $400 scholarship to conduct my project here in Ghana with the CIEE students and Ghanaian colleagues, friends, and family. I mentioned it previously in another post but will expand upon it more as it starts to unfold. The main idea of it is that I would like to compile a multimedia presentation in a DVD format about the relationship between us, as developing students here in Ghana, to Ghana, as a developing country, and the role that education plays between the two. This will require me to travel with each of the students, take video recordings, photographs, and conduct interviews. My hope is to be able to provide a connection between Ghana and America through this educational compilation.

Now on to the work of the project. First step, seeing how many of the students on this program want to be a part of it - I hope everyone does!

Simultaneous Experiences

There’s always so much to say – what happened in the day, what my thoughts were about the food I ate, who I encountered on the trotro, and the list goes on.

I’m thankfully over a cold I picked up somewhere between Accra and Cape Coast and feeling so much better. My host mom always does so much for me when I’m not feeling my best. This time she made sure to feed me lots of pineapple. I haven’t really talked that much about the physical aspect of being here, so here are a few sentences – it hasn’t been the easiest. I have had two bouts of Travelers’ Diarrhea and then a cold. Perhaps this is too much information to be sharing via the internet but honestly it’s a part of being here and learning how to deal with sickness in another country has its challenges, especially in a developing one. I am hoping to stay sickness free from here on and don’t worry I’ve been taking my malaria medication diligently!

I just finished reading “Sophie’s Choice” by William Styron, which I can’t say was the best book to be reading my first month in Ghana, but it certainly was thought provoking and seemingly connected to being here in Africa. The story is told from the perspective of a young Southern writer who encounters a couple, Nathan, a Jew, and his polish lover, Sophie, while he is living in the north. Most of the story is centered on Sophie’s past, as she is a survivor of the Nazi concentration camps. One of the quotes I came across that caught my attention was when Stingo was describing how he had been living his life in the U.S. unaware of what was happening, what Sophie was going through in Europe. He said,

“The two orders of simultaneous experience are so different,

so irreconcilable to any common norm of human values,

their coexistence is a paradox”

This quote speaks to the many experiences that are going on right now, for me, for you, and for the stranger in Uganda who is fleeing for his life because of the Anti-Homosexuality Bill that is going to be passed. It also speaks to what I was feeling this past weekend in Cape Coast when thinking about the whites going to church above the slave dungeons.

Additionally, one of the reasons why colonialism and the slave trade ended, to the best of my knowledge currently, is because of World War II. While slavery was beginning its end, another people were being put to death. The connections and thoughts about the two are overwhelming.

When I think about all of this, what I am reading, what I am learning in classes here about slavery and development, I try to break it down. To first understand the past history and then the current history, to see the causes and the effects, and to view today what is going on in the world with a critical eye. I feel that I have become desensitized to many things in the news and I’m not quite sure why. To get to the bottom of this I think encompasses dealing with the feelings associated with the quote I have shared. Actually, since being here I haven’t even been keeping up with the world news at all. And I wonder why? Or perhaps, why not?

Four Weeks

Four weeks ago today,

Ghana,

This country far away,

Far from the familiar,

Far from my home,

Becoming closer to my heart.

They opened the door to me,

Let me step inside,

Watching,

Waiting,

Taking my first steps in the dirt,

My first rides in the trotro,

First calls of obruni.

It’s not always easy,

Lights go out,

Sweat drips,

Faces turn,

To see.

Always an adventure,

A million moments to share in one day,

From watching students be caned,

To teaching a class of thirty-six,

Alone.

From waving to a smiling child on the street,

To seeing the place where they sleep at night.

We accept the differences,

Watch in silence,

Become a part of here.

Forming our own opinions,

Creating ourselves,

From what we see

To who we meet.

Ghana,

I will continue to learn,

To share,

To be here,

To live a part of my life.

away.

A Weekend in the Central Region

This past weekend the CIEE program took us to the Central Region of Ghana (it is the green area on the map) for our first trip together. I ended up going a day earlier than the rest of the students because one of my friends observes Shabbat and I wanted to make sure she had company on Friday. Mr. Gyasi, our program director, drove the two of us up on Friday morning and then in the afternoon we did a tour of Cape Coast Castle.

The tour of Cape Coast Castle was unreal. Having visited museums and other historical places before, I know that it takes me a longer time to imagine the past, to realize that this is where a past people lived or where a past event took place. We learn about history in the classroom and thus it sometimes becomes difficult to grasp the magnitude of the past outside of our readings. However, walking into the slave dungeons I understood that I was walking where Africans enslaved by the Europeans were kept, with no light, no place to go to the bathroom, very little air for many, many days. Last semester I took a class at Tulane on the African Diaspora and learned all about the Middle Passage and the Transatlantic Slave Trade but here I was, in a slave castle, where what I had read about existed and took place. It felt like I had been transported.

After the tour, Mr. Gyasi, Tali, and I went to the hotel and we discussed how we were feeling about the slave castle. One thing that was difficult for us to comprehend was the relationship between religion and slavery. There was a church built on top of the male slave dungeon and upon going in and out the whites could “check” on the slaves. How could a people, called by God, think that enslaving other human beings was acceptable? I understand the explanations that surround this question but actually seeing the proximity of church to slave dungeon brought my questioning back. From that moment I realized that I wanted to explore more in depth the relationship between the spread of Christianity here and slavery. Why did so many Ghanaians here adopt the religion of their oppressors? Or is that even the case? Did Christianity come from somewhere else for them? Driving around Ghana, there are references everywhere to God and Jesus. Just this morning I was sitting in a taxi that had a sticker of Jesus on the steering wheel.

The next day, Saturday, the rest of our group came and I went on the tour again with them. The second time on the tour I was able to pick up more from the later half, which was focused on where the Europeans lived. We were able to compare the European sleeping quarters with the African living quarters, if one can even call it that.

Then in the afternoon we did a Batik Tye and Dye workshop. An organization called Global Mamas (www.globalmamas.org) works with women in the Cape Coast area that do batik and then they export what they make to the U.S. Batik is a type of art that is done on cloth, in the simplest terms. These women take a piece of cloth, apply wax to it with different patterns and then use dye to color. We split into our CIEE teams, traveled to meet a couple of the Global Mamas who helped us, and each did a banner for our team.

On Sunday we headed out early and went to Kakum National Park for a short hike and canopy walk tour. Kakum is a nature park that was created to preserve one of the last rainforests in Ghana. It was fun to walk from tree to tree on the narrow pieces of wood without shaking it too much for the people behind.

The bus ride on the way back was quite bumpy but also a lot of fun. The bus that the group had taken to get to Cape Coast had broken down so Sunday morning we were split into two buses to get back. Not really a surprise that the first bus broke down but we were very lucky it happened at the hotel and not when we were already on the road. At one point we were driving through a heavily congested area and one of the girls on the bus jokingly asked if anyone wanted plantains. Of course we did! So Nikki leaned out her window and started buying everyone plantains and Fan Ice (which is ice cream in a small packaged bag that you squeeze out).

Overall the trip was a good journey outside of the Greater Accra region and a once in a lifetime opportunity to visit a place that we read about in books. Also, on Saturday night after dinner we shared how being at the Cape Coast Castle affected each of us, and what it meant. Out of this came a discussion about race that continued late into the night, that was prompted and facilitated by us, the students. This came about because a few of us noticed that within the second day of orientation we had segregated into blacks and whites. The dialogue that occurred that night may be a gateway to further conversations about race and racism. I was amazed that thirty of us were able to sit and start a discussion that is not easy to have; it’s something that affects us back home in the U.S. but as we could see was still apparent even abroad within our own group.

The plaque at Cape Coast Castle reads,

"In everlasting memory of the anguish of our ancestors,

May those who died rest in peace,

May those who return find their roots,

May humanity never again perpetrate such injustice again humanity,

We, the living, vow to uphold this"

Cape Coast Photos

Wash. - Bon Iver

Climb

Is all we know

When thaw

Is not below us

No can't grow up

In that iron ground

Claire, all too sore for sound

Bet

Is hardly shown

Scraped

Across the foam

Like they stole it

And oh how they hold it

Claire, we nearly forfeit

I I'm growing like the quickening hues

I I'm telling darkness from lines on you

Over havens fora full and swollen morass young habitat!

All been living alone where the ice snap and the hold clast are known

Home

Were savage high

Come

We finally cry

Oh and we don it

Because it's right

Claire I was too sore for sight

I were sewing up through the latchet greens

I un-peel keenness honey bean for bean

Same white pillar tone as with the bone street sand is thrown where she stashed us at,

All been living alone where the cracks at in the low part of the stoning

I've been listening to this song every night as I go to sleep. I feel as if it was written for me, although through my limited research I have come to find out that Bon Iver is writing this song about his hometown Eau Claire. The lyrics to me speak of growing up, of forcing ourselves out of our homes and what we are used to; that in order to climb we must leave the familiar. It may be for a month, a few months, a year - there's no time expectation or limitation. I listen to this song for inspiration, to remind myself that in creating myself, in being here in Africa, I will encounter differences and in those moments I will reveal parts of myself that I have never seen before in my actions and reactions.

I love songs that cause me to reflect, to question the lyrics, and to find meaning. So I must give thanks to Daniel for sending this song to me; it's kept me company every night as I fall asleep under my mosquito net, blocking out the noise of the planes flying overhead, and allowing me peace at the end of long days. I'd love more song suggestions!

Harmattan

Dust is in the air, on my clothes, covering my feet, and in my nose. It's everywhere, it's the Harmattan. This is a time in Africa when the winds blow desert sand from the Sahara to the south. It usually occurs in January but has held off just for us to be able to experience it. I didn't understand what this would be like until I woke up the other morning and started walking and could see the dust in the air. Driving in the trotro this morning was the equivalent of driving through fog.

Speaking of walking, Felix and Grandma want to give me a walking medal for all of the walking I do. There are quite a few other students that do more walking than I, but every time I tell Grandma and Felix I am going somewhere I say that I will just walk. On a typical day I will walk for about an hour. This morning I got up, walked to the trotro, got on the trotro and off at Madina. Then once in Madina I walked down the road to get a trotro to Adenta. On the way back I took a trotro to Legon, walked around campus, and then walked to the shared taxi stand (about 15 minutes away from campus), got out at Blue Gate and walked for another twenty minutes home. There's always something to see along the way.

Today at Tot To Teen I observed the teacher I will be working with teaching English Comprehension. When I was leaving, the preschool children where outside in the courtyard (a giant concrete area) and when they saw me they started yelling "obruni, obruni" and swarmed around me. They started grabbing my arms and wanting attention. It was pretty overwhelming but when I told them to go play, they ran away laughing.

Then when I got home I was greeted by two of the nursery school children running up and hugging my legs. It was a great way to be welcomed home.

Tot To Teen

Teaching to a room of thirty-four Ghanaian students; me, a young white girl standing at the front of the class alone. It's what I've always wanted to do - to teach. And finally today I did it in a country I am not from, with students I do not know, and with a book I've never read before.

I taught three different classes on Comprehension over the course of the morning. Two fourth grade classes and one fifth grade class. I was given a book by one of the teachers and told that the students would let me know where they had left off in their work. That was it.

I've never been in a Ghanaian classroom before, never been exposed to the way in which the students learn, what they are familiar with, and what they are supposed to be doing. But there I was and I had to make my own decisions about what to do. The first class wasn't supposed to start until 8:30 but since most of the students were there at 8:00 I passed out notebook paper that I had brought, to each of them. On the paper they wrote their names, how many brothers and sisters they have, their favorite subject, and their favorite fruit. It's going to be difficult to learn all of the students' names but hopefully over the four months I am here I will be able to do it.

The second class was slightly different because I didn't have enough paper to do the activity with them that I had done before. We did the same lesson that the first class did and the students took turn reading a passage and then answered questions about it. At the end of class I let them ask me questions about where I am from, why I'm here, and how long I'll be here. There were lots of questions - what does your brother look like? Do you have children? How many universities are there in America? Where do you live? and the list goes on...

Then I ended the day with the fifth graders who are slightly more rambunctious. The activity that we did was a little more difficult and required them to write a passage in their workbooks. After each class finished with their workbooks I was supposed to collect them and grade them all. I'm not sure if the teachers do this while the students are just talking to one another or if they save it for later. Also, I realized that I need to find out the rules on discipline - one of the students tattled on another that he was writing in the book and I wasn't quite sure what to do. I asked the students what the teachers do to get the class to be quiet and once I did, I realized I already knew the answer. The teachers cane them. I told them that I will put my finger to my lips and they will follow. Once everyone is quiet then I will begin teaching. I'm also going to use some transitions that I've learned from the education classes I've taken at Tulane to help class go more smoothly. That is, if I'm not told the next time that I go in that I've done it all wrong today. You never know in Ghana.

Also, getting to Tot To Teen was easier than I thought it might be. I stood on the side of the road (about ten minutes away from my house), got a trotro going towards Madina and then got off at the market. Once I got off though I had no idea where I was - it was like being in New York City without all of the tall buildings. There were people going in all directions and it was only 7:15 in the morning. I stopped a man and asked him where I could get a trotro to Adenta and he motioned to me to follow him. When I got to the main road I had no problem getting a trotro and got to school on time. The commute is about an hour.

I'm excited to be teaching in this school, to learn from the students I am teaching, and to explore what the Ghanaian education system is like. Already in one of my classes (Sociological Foundations for Development Studies) I have read a report about using English as the medium of instruction in primary schools in Ghana. The study that was conducted found that it is better to teach in the child's mother-tongue for the first three years at school. However, when the NPP government came into control it instituted English as the primary language for all students with the argument that it would be difficult to provide instruction in the multiple languages that exist in Ghana. Whether or not this is true remains controversial.

Girls Girls Time

This is what Felix tells me it is called when girls hang out together – girls girls. The same is true when boys hang out together – boys boys. This weekend was a lot of girls girls time, from running around East Legon to traveling to the beach.

On Friday night we now have a tradition of going to this place called “Jerry’s.” It’s the homestay hangout – conveniently located central to all of the people staying with families in East Legon. This time though our friends who are staying on campus also came to join us. We sat outside talking and listening to music for hours. It’s a good time to relax, to talk about how we’re dealing with different things in our homestays, and to get to know one another better. Felix is such a great host brother that he even came to pick me up and bring me home.

Saturday morning I went on a run with Zoe around East Legon to figure out where everyone on our program is living. Turned out the run was pretty long and very hot. It was nice though to see the area in which we all live and how spread out we all are. Once I got back I did my wash (laundry) and hung it up to draw. Then I walked to the A and C mall to meet Melissa and we got smoothies at the Coffee Bar in the center. This is probably going to be where I spend most of my time – the latte there was delicious!

We had a “Welcome Durbar” that night for all of the international students. There we were welcomed again to the University and were able to meet other international students. We had traditional Ghanaian food and they also performed traditional dances with music. Part of one of the dances required the lead dancer to stick a needle through his cheek. I was in awe.

Today we went to the beach! It took about an hour to get there. It was good to figure out which trotro to take and learn the hand signals (because every direction has a different signal and not all the trotros go to the same place). The beach here is very different – there are people everywhere, horses, people under big canopies with lounge chairs, traditional music along the ocean, and huge waves. It was a lot to take in all at once and I will need to return to take photographs. I had one of those moments when I was standing in the ocean – am I really here in Ghana in the ocean right now?

I am. I’m here and I’m living here. Realizing that I’m here for four months has allowed me to begin to be comfortable, to begin to find a routine, to take in all that is around me. This weekend was a good time for me to start to balance home, friends, and school. There is so much to do that it is good to remind myself that I have time, time to enjoy Ghana.

A Lesson Past

I’ve been wanting to put closure to the end of last semester; to take time to reflect on the semester before I left to study abroad; to think about what happened in it’s entirety; and to be able to move forward and be here in this place, in Ghana.

I’ve realized there’s not always a good ending. Endings can be abrupt, can leave us wishing there was something more, and can leave us with unexplained questions. I think that I have experienced an ending like this before now. The thing about endings though is that sometimes they are not up to us. Sometimes we must just close the book and move forward. That’s what I’m doing now. Accepting that in this ending, the ending of last semester, I was completely vulnerable, at the receiving end of someone else’s decision.

So that story has ended, that door is closing, and finally I can open a new door, start a new sentence. But that doesn’t mean that my door is not open to all from the past and to all in the future; it means that it’s time for me to write again, to believe in myself again; to believe that there are people who will support me through the worst imaginable times. I am human. Humans make mistakes. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes and I will continue to do so but I will never walk out on someone, my door is open to you.

Dealing with Differences

Being in a new country, in a new place far away from home can be difficult at times. People experience it at different times, from different interactions and reactions, and for different reasons. Maybe it's missing out on Mardi Gras, or missing a birthday in the family, or experiencing something here, a new meal or an interaction with someone on the street, that makes that moment, maybe that day a difficult one, a challenge you have to overcome.

Certainly I've had many interactions with people on the street that would never occur in the U.S. and there have been many times when I would really like some milk with my dinner or a cookie for dessert. But none of these had upset me, I just see them as changes, differences that are here. However, on Friday for the first time I needed to take a step back, to remove myself from the situation in which I was in, to begin to deal with the differences between our way of educating our preschoolers and the Ghanaian way.

I went over to my grandmother's nursery on Friday and the teachers wanted me teach something to the children. I was caught off guard, confused, and a little unsure of what to do. In the classroom there are 1 year olds and 3 year olds sitting at desks. I couldn't get past this at first, this discipline that the children are required to have. I thought I would be playing with them, reading them books, and talking with them, but I can now see that none of this is going to happen. As a teacher, I am required to discipline the students, not to play with them but to teach them nursery rhymes. I've found though that they can recite rhymes but don't understand the meaning. They can recite the a,b,c's but not even know what they are. After talking with each of the students for a few minutes and reading them a story outside I went back to my house to start to deal with the differences.

I will begin to work in the school, Tot To Teen, on Tuesday and I am sure that I will encounter a similar experience there. The hardest thing about it is that I can't change anything. Instead I must become a part of the preexisting system, learn how to educate them here, and not be the teacher I see myself becoming. I must forgo my way of teaching, or the way in which I want to teach, in order to work with the students here.

I went on a run that afternoon and ended up running into one of the supervisors of my program. We discussed how I was feeling and she told me that it is a common way that students who go to the schools here feel. I think that one of my goals while I am here in the schools will be to connect meaning to the nursery rhymes that they are able to recite through drawings and play, though the play will have to be structured. On Tuesday I will find out what the school that I will be working in is like and form a goal for there as well.

Dealing with differences can be difficult. Some differences are funny - like seeing sheep on the side of the road or chickens running around. Some differences can be uncomfortable - like when a Ghanaian man approaches you to ask if you are married, or if you have a boyfriend, or if he can have your number. Some differences take time to understand - like why the water doesn't run all of the time and how can the electricity just go off without notice. Some differences are difficult - like seeing a family on the side of the road living in a wooden shack or a woman carrying a baby on her back and food to sell on her head. Some times far away from home, from what we know, we may want to break down, to cry, but we remain strong. Melissa, a friend from the CIEE program, was telling me the other day about her experiences trying to get trotros and how looking back on it she was surprised she didn't get more anxious or nervous or upset when things didn't work out the way she planned. I turned to her and said, it doesn't really seem like an option here. We have to take care of ourselves, part of growing up, and sometimes that means forcing a smile on your face to make it home in one piece, to get on that trotro and ask questions of where it's going, to not be scared when the taxi you get in doesn't start and they start pushing it, to continue walking when a man asks for your number. It's all part of this experience, pushing ourselves to continue home, home here in Ghana.

Being White

“Obruni, obruni, obruni”

insult

compliment

I turn.

A smile, a wave,

Unsure.

To embrace it or to ignore it

Who says it and why?

Something to point at,

To shout at,

To be with.

All for lack of color.

For whiteness.

My race,

What does it mean?

me.

Internship and Classes

Things don’t run as smoothly here as they do in the U.S. Showing up for my internship today and being told by one headmaster that they don’t have the letter to let us work today was frustrating. What was worse was that they did in fact have the letter but the headmaster who had it had not communicated with the other. This all took about three and a half hours to figure out, a trotro ride, a bus ride, and finally a taxi ride.

Was I surprised? Not really. In the U.S. I might get upset, blame someone, and then expect an apology. Today I was annoyed, a little frustrated at having spent the entire morning commuting back and forth but I’ve also taken some time to look at the positives of the journey of going there and coming back – taking a trotro through Madina, a market area, taking a MetroBus and realizing we were going a different route, and finally taking a taxi through the back roads of Madina and seeing the shops on the sides of the street.

It’s all caught up with me now though and I can barely stay awake.

This week was the first week of class – sort of. I showed up for my class on Monday morning and the professor did not show up. This is not unusual for the first week of class. In addition the workers who open and close the buildings on campus, and do various other things, are on strike. They haven’t been paid for their overtime hours and today when I walked on campus I saw them demonstrating at the front gate. We are unsure of how this is going to affect classes next week. The other three classes I have are all through the CIEE program so we were able to meet. Those classes are Twi, a seminar on Living and Learning in Ghana, and Sociological Foundations for Development (the class that accompanies my internship).

Maybe more about classes next week…