Learning

Lesson:

Being Present

Remaining here until the end,

We are constantly looking forward,

We forget to be,

I keep saying I’ll try,

But I never knew how,

Until now,

Until I realize this is it.

Step 1: Music

Step 2: Walk, run, dance

Step 3: Think

Step 4: Draw, paint, photograph

Step 5: Find it.

Find that place,

Where you are happy,

Where you can enjoy every moment,

Wherever you are.

It comes from inside,

Then smile,

Wave to a stranger,

Do something you would never do,

Just because you can,

Because you are you,

And no one can change that.

Last step: Do it. 

Thanks Ms.S!

A few photos from celebrating Easter with the nursery school students...

Thank you Ms. Santoski for sending the Easter Egg Dying Kit and goodies for the children - 

they loved  it!

Fault

I have been trying to figure this out for quite some time. And I am sure I am still figuring it out. It is defined as “a defect or imperfection; flaw; failing.” But by “figuring out” I simply mean, being aware of myself, my actions, the moments when I stumble, the moments when I trip others, the times that I spend thinking about what happened.

And now I have realized my greatest fault yet. And yet if I spoke of it, wrote of it, I would only be doing it again.

That thing I do.

It isn’t all about me. It’s about you. And then us.

And if I apologize now I am only doing it again. But I am, sorry. 

Turning things sideways, upside down, not telling the truth. And then thinking that when I do, someone is expected to listen. That they will believe me, this time.

I was always the girl who cried wolf. The thing is I never stopped being it. I never admitted to it. And now here I am. Call me out. Cause now I can handle it.

And now that I know, I promise to do better, better for you who are reading this. 

What Will Your Story Be?

A moment to pause and reflect on this journey, this incredible experience, this time in my life in Ghana, wondering what I will tell people when I return home.

“How was Ghana?”

This is my story. It starts with a girl who had no idea what to expect, who went to the airport bathroom and didn’t know if she could get on the plane.

And three months later this girl is realizing that soon she will leave this wonderful place, that soon she will be heading back home – this is my story.

“Ghana was unbelievable. It was a great experience,” that’s all that I will be able to say. But behind those few words are all of the moments that built me, that changed me, that are a part of me now…

Tro-tro rides, the numerous times I was called obruni, the marriage proposals, standing alone at the front of a classroom of thirty-five students, attempting to teach one and two-year-olds, running around the neighborhoods, becoming friends with my credit man, learning from Grandma, happy hour at Luscious Temptations, traveling around Ghana, asking questions about everything, eating Jollof rice and friend plantains, classes at University of Ghana, cooling off with a FanIce, and all that I can’t put into words.

My story is one of development, one in which I am forming my own definition, my own opinions.

Development – listening, learning, and understanding another way of living. Taking from those teaching moments what matters to you, deciding what you want to actively change, and reflecting on who you already are. Asking questions about what you think you know and realizing that there is so much that you don’t know. And then becoming aware that development is not always in one’s control, that only with help, with support can it occur, that sometimes those that we think are supporting us are hindering us, that sometimes we have to let go, sometimes we have to go on our way, but my journey, my development has not been alone, it has only been possible with all of you supporting me.

A story that ends with you, that ends with me thanking everyone for giving me this chance. It ends with this girl, this white girl, getting back on an airplane.

Happy Friday!

FanIce - vanilla ice cream in a bag, delicious!

Playing "Collide" at Happy Hour (Yes, it is the only song I know on guitar)

Celebrating Melissa's Birthday!

Boatemaa (one of the CIEE Staff) and me 

Navigating Titles

There’s usually a class representative in each class who is in charge of making copies for the other students, preparing the classroom for the lecturer, and making announcements.

Emma asked me the other day, “Claire, how did you become the CIEE Class Rep?”

I had to think about it for a minute. “I’m not sure.”

I think it began when I decided it would be a good idea for us to celebrate people’s birthdays as a group, as CIEE. I took out a sheet of paper and posted it on the board in the office for everyone who has a Spring Birthday to be able to write it down. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to with that information but I thought I would think of something eventually.

Then I began to work on my project, interviewing other CIEE students and sending out group e-mails. From there, it just happened.

Now I am helping to organize a CIEE Trivia Night, helping to plan the Farwell dinner, helping to put together a book of CIEE Students’ Stories, and buying cake and candy to celebrate the birthdays – oh my.

When I write it out like that it seems very overwhelming but to me, it isn’t. Planning, organizing, putting things together, is what I enjoy doing. And so I’m finding it rewarding helping out.

But I don’t need a title. I am happy just being Claire, that one girl that keeps sending out the e-mails (which I am sure some people find annoying and are wondering why I am the one sending them).

In high school I needed a title. I needed a way to define myself. But I know me now.

I hope that through all I am trying to do, all I am trying to help out with, that I am making things more enjoyable and worthwhile for everyone on this program.

Ashanti Region

Our last group trip was this past weekend to the Ashanti Region (the yellow area on the map). It was the last time I will find myself in a bus full of obrunis driving around Ghana. So maybe I’m getting a little sentimental but it’s happening, entering the last month of my stay in Ghana.

We left early on Friday morning to begin the drive to Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti Region. Quite a few of us had been up late celebrating with Melissa for her birthday at Luscious and I found myself sleeping almost the entire six-hour ride there. When we arrived at the hotel we had lunch and then we were back on the road for the afternoon activities.

The afternoon activities included visiting Bonwire, the Kente Village, where we were able to purchase original Kente items as well as try our hands at it too. (The first photo is an example of Kente). I got a little overwhelmed in the small building we were in and so I found my way back to the bus where I was able to regroup. (Sometimes bargaining can become a bit much). Then we proceeded to another village where we were able to observe how they make the dye to put the Adinkra symbols on cloth (The second photo is an example of Adinkra). Each symbol has a different meaning. The most popular symbol is “Gye Nyame” which means “Except for God.”

Then we headed back to the hotel for dinner and an early bedtime. The next morning we headed out to see the traditional Asante homes. We were given a short tour of the building and heard the history of the Ashanti Region. On our way to the Manhyia Palace, now a museum, we got stuck in a lot of traffic and decided to eat lunch before going there. The British gave the Manhyia Palace to the Asantehene (the chief of the Asante people) in 1925 when he returned from exile. We were given a tour of the palace; the chief no longer resides in that building so we were unable to see him. (The third photo is of the Manhyia Palace).

It was then time for the market. Kejetia, the market in Kumasi, is the largest open-air market in all of West Africa. Going into the market requires some mental preparation as the people selling things shout as you walk by, reach out and grab your arm, and you have to maneuver around all the people going in different directions. I really enjoy going to the market now because there’s so much to see but it can become overwhelming.

Melissa and I headed into the market together and we were doing well finding our way around. We found the shoe section where Melissa decided to try on a pair of sandals. When Melissa decided she didn’t want to buy them we were followed by the woman, who was angry with us for not purchasing the sandals, and she started yelling at us. We quickly moved on. It was finally time to find our way back to the bus (we gave ourselves thirty minutes) and then it was time for dinner.

In my three months of being here I have not yet talked at all about food. This is not surprising since at dinner in Kumasi I ate my first fufu. Now that I have eaten fufu I will write about food soon.

The next day, Sunday, we had the morning to ourselves. Nikki, Amy, Melissa, Hannah, and I decided to head back to the market. It was less crazy because it was Sunday and we were able to find the things we had been looking for. Then we had lunch at the hotel and we were back on the road to Accra, back home.

Only two more weeks of class and then exams begin...

Ashanti Region Photos

Just a few photos from this weekend...

Twelve Weeks

And I finally understand that I will never be able to find a trashcan or a bathroom when I need one in Ghana. I have experienced what it’s like to live without running water, what it’s like to sleep with the power out, how difficult it can be at times to live in a developing country.

And I finally understand that I will never be able to fully understand Ghana, the people and the culture, but that what I have learned, what I am learning, and what I will continue to learn in the next few weeks will be my beginning.

And I finally understand that I will always be learning, that no matter where I travel, whom I encounter, what I experience, there will never be an ending.

Twelve weeks ago I began to question my beliefs, my future, my understandings, my judgments, my stereotypes, and what the next months would bring.

And here I am. Still questioning, still trying to understand, still working through the hard moments, still enjoying the happy ones, still running around, still finding time to sit outside and relax, still enjoying life in Ghana.

And I still can’t believe I am here, that this is my life, that I am living it here.

And I still can’t believe that I have travelled to the Eastern Region, the Volta Region, the Western Region, the Central Region, the Greater Accra Region – five of the ten regions, places that local Ghanaians have not even been to. And this weekend is another region, a trip to the Ashanti Region with the CIEE group, our last trip together.

And I’m not ready for the ending.

It’s time to keep running, to get up early and enjoy every moment.

Easter

On this Easter Sunday in Ghana, I can’t stop thinking about my grandmother, about my family, about the past, and all of the memories from egg hunting at Aunt Patricia’s house to going to Church with Grandma Barry, that have created me. I know that this holiday will not be the same for my family, the first Easter without my grandmother in the kitchen trying to do everything. I know that is sad and yet it is a time we are supposed to be happy. This is the beginning of my understanding that there is a reason why I was welcomed into Grandma’s Gritty house, why she took me in as a daughter, why I am here – to remember. To remember that when there is sadness there is also happiness; while things stay the same, things also change; why we question is also why we believe; and where we are going is where we have come from.

I haven’t written much in the past week about what I’ve been doing because the days past by so fast. Every week there’s American Store Monday (this is when Nikki and I go to this small store that sells American goods), Pizza Tuesday (when Amy, Nikki, and I go to a pizza place to buy one, get one free pizza), Internet Thursday (when Nikki and I go to the A and C mall and use the internet), and Happy Hour Friday (buy one, get one free drinks at Luscious with Melissa, Nikki, and Amy).

This past weekend Nikki, Amy, and I traveled to Kokrobite (only about two hours away and still in the Greater Accra region) and spent Friday night there. We went to the beach on Friday and Saturday where I got a chance to relax and just read. There’s only so much relaxing you get to do though when people are constantly coming up to you and wanting to be your friend or wanting you to buy something from them. However, it was a good short trip and just what I needed before the rest of this time flies by.

The weekend before we (most of the CIEE students) participated in a Community Service project at the Hope Community Chapel Orphanage. We spent Saturday painting and playing with the children. Also, Nikki and I taught at the nursery that Friday and using the egg dying kit that was sent to me in the package we dyed eggs with the children. It was definitely something out of the ordinary.

Lots to do in the next coming weeks. Lots to start. Lots to finish. Lots to think about. Not watching the time, no watch today.

Stereotyped

White girl. American girl. Blonde girl. Obruni. Foreigner. These words describe me, they put a label on me, they sometimes hurt me, they sometimes help me, they aid in stereotyping me.

Confronted everyday with my color, with being white, I question who I am as a white person, what it means to be white, what others think when they see me, what stereotype do I belong to?

“a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or

idea of a particular type of person or thing”

I asked Felix what his stereotype of white American girls is the other day and I was angry to hear what he had to say. I found that I was upset because I fit his stereotype of a white girl. Stereotypes exist for a reason. They allow us to generalize, to categorize, to put things into a frame of reference that we can understand, that we can easily distinguish by, that we don’t need to question.

After many discussions in my seminar class about the difference between stereotypes and cultural generalizations I have begun to see and experience the negative effects of stereotypes.

To Felix, as a white American girl, I am seen as someone who can open doors for him. Without even opening my mouth to share my story, he already has his own idea about who I am. As he was sharing this he mentioned that he was sure that I would be trying to find a way to help Sadik, my friend, while I am here. How could he know this? He couldn’t, I’d never shared it with him. But based on his stereotype that’s what he thought.

Stereotypes exist throughout the world. But is their existence positive or negative? I for one can tell you that for the first time I am feeling the effects of being stereotyped, and it is not something that I enjoy.

Most Americans that I have encountered have a stereotype of Africa, an image of Africa that is most probably formed through the media. Most Ghanaians that I have encountered have a stereotype of America, an image of a rich country. Is this how we want to be known? Is there even a way of changing it? Do we have any control over stereotypes?

It’s time to question. Question those stereotypes, the one where you are a rich American to a Ghanaian, and is there anything you can do about it? Maybe it starts within, changing our own stereotypes, questioning our own stereotypes – why not?

Imagine

there she sits in the corner,

white girl in a red dress,

holding a guitar,

pen and paper beside her

in focus.

framed by earphones,

surrounded by people,

out of focus,

faces turned towards one another,

talking,

singing along,

words running together

across the page,

over a map of Africa,

background.

sets the story,

the one of this girl,

singing

collide -

Africa and America

A Family Photo from the Bungalow