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.