Part Eight: Ghana: "I Can See Africa From My Bedroom"

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arriving to Africa at 6am

It is hard to talk about this port, so bear with me. The  pictures really tell the story. But here is a shot at words:

Driving out of the docks for the first time was one of my favorite parts of the trip. As we pulled out of the port I saw a landscape that was both familiar and astonishing. I was riveted and glued to my window just taking in the sights as they passed in the blink of an eye. One moment, a woman with an infant strapped to her back carrying 40 lbs of water on her head, the next, a goat sleeping next to a burning tree. There were train tracks covered in grass that people use as roads and countless naked children who would chase the bus, trying to sell us everything from water to q-tips. I could do nothing but silently say the word for it all over and over in my head: Ghana, Ghana, Ghana. Our hotel was a resort but by US standards it was a cheap hostel. The bed had no blanket, the shower was a faucet and a bucket and only one appliance (either the light, the fan, or the fridge –which was full of old fish-) could be on at a time. We ate dinner under the most amazing sunset I have ever seen. The sky was blood red. After dinner we went to the University and asked and answered questions and then got to listen to their choir and dance with them to drumming. I had a moment of pure joy when I was dancing in a circle of Africans. None of my usual self-consciousness was present and I felt like I was at home somehow. It was the beat of the music that really got me. It felt like it was in sync with my heartbeat and the people all were pulsing to it. I found myself chanting with them even though I did not know the words. I ended the night at a bar where we had gone to see the Superbowl. There was a huge screen set up and we got there just in time to hearing the opening song.

Shortly after arriving another girl and I needed to use the restroom, which turned out to be a trek into the trees and was actually an enclosed cement slab with a drain in the middle and hose to wash the ground with. It was too much to take so we decided to go in the woods. Just as we pulled our skirts down a car drove up 10 feet away. We tried to run away but these three men caught up with us. One of them grabbed my hand in greeting and didn’t let go for a solid 45 minutes as we talked. The other girl had gone and I was feeling uncomfortable even though the man seemed genuinely nice. I convinced him to come back to the bar with me so I could ask him questions about Ghana for my classes. After about an hour he told me that he’d fallen in love with me and that it was always been his dream to marry a white woman. He asked me if I would marry him and thinking he was mostly kidding, I laughed. He was very sober and told me that marriage in not a joke. I told him that where I come from I am too young to be married which was strange to him as most women my age here have children. I did take a moment to consider his offer before I ruled it out. He was one of the friendliest people I have met and actually seemed quite smart. Not to mention, it has always been a dream of mine to marry an African man.  I tried to let him down as easily as I could but he was insistent. He took my email and phone number and kept telling me he loved me. His friend, who was sitting near us, took that moment to show my what he had in his pocket. It was handcuffs. I decided it was time to leave. That man, Papa was the name he gave me, taught me a lot. He told me Africans look up to “white men” because they are fast and sharp. I told him that, the people I know at least, look up to Africans because they seem to have such knowledge of joy and how to live. He was genuinely surprised and thrilled to hear that. We talked about Barack Obama and mosquitoes and the differences between life here and life in the United States. Even though he made me uncomfortable in the end, I was glad to have met him. Our conversation that night will remain a highlight of my trip. 

The next day we went back to the University for more drumming and dancing and hung out with some students. All of them wanted our names, emails, and phone numbers and wanted to give us theirs. They took us to a fish market where I felt very odd. I wanted to take pictures of everything but didn’t want to take my camera out. Not only did it feel weird to be holding something the cost of which could cover them for a year, but because I didn’t want to be a tourist. I didn’t want to be that person who came to Africa to collect photos like charms for a charm bracelet. I wanted to be here to honor them by being as engaged as possible. They live so in the moment, day to day, that it is hard to not be fully present. One woman got mad at me when I wouldn’t buy her fish, and I had to tell another women ‘no’ when she asked if her baby could have my water. That encounter still haunts me. A smile in any person’s direction was enough to start a conversation, though the people in this market mostly spoke Twi. I again found myself dancing to a rhythm that I suddenly have with a group of women cheering me on, laughing and clapping. I thanked them with my one Twi word “med-ahh-say.” After lunch we got to meet an important political figure and I was chosen to thank him on behalf of the students. The ride back was long, the buses have no air-conditioning and I was squished up front next to a large lady. We talked the whole way back. She is a counselor at a school in Winneba and I asked her everything I could think of about Ghana. I learned a great deal from her too. I learned that in Ghanaian culture the men give birth, not the women. There was no arguing with her about that. The men name the children, although sometimes they name them after the mother. Adultery is abundant, and suicide rates are high. I thought about what we learned in class, that in Africa there is one psychologist for every 3000 people, even in the populous places. The communities are small, and all day from sun-up to bedtime is spent working. I saw people sleeping on the ground or in chairs outside their shops by the road. All of the shops sell the same things; I don’t know how anyone makes money. The shops have the funniest names too. Things like “Jesus is Lord Barber Shop” and “God is Real Grocery Store.” 

I felt a lot like I was in a fish tank this week. We really stand out. The big tour busses don’t help, although they do protect us from being pulled out of windows, which we encountered on the local busses. People literally stop what they are doing as we pass and stare at us and often smile and wave. Some people however, glare at us, and I feel like I am being judged down to the depths of my soul. When they are not trying to sell you things, Ghanaian people are the nicest people I have ever encountered. After being in Brazil, where you are literally chased by people trying to sell things to “rich Americans” Ghanaians were a breath of fresh air. After being off the ship for 5 minutes, Ilana and I were approached by a man from his roadside stand. “Hello sisters!” he said. “We don’t have any money.” We replied automatically. “Who said anything about money?” He said, “Welcome to Ghana!” He proceeded to insist that I take one of his key chains for free, saying we would meet again and I could pay him then. I argued my best because I knew I wouldn’t be back but I did end up going home with the keychain. People on the street stop you to ask your name and usually want to give you their email addresses. They do the thing where they say, “You are from the US? I have a cousin in Milwaukee, do you know her?” They can also be very manipulative. They know who we are and expect money from us, either in exchange for merchandise or otherwise. Some of them ask your name, and then a day later call out to you and show you the shell they have painted with your name on it and tell you can have it for a small price. Our inter-port student told us not to buy anything at full price. Usually try to get it 75% lower. I had a hard time with that. I don’t know what things are worth and I really don’t want to underpay. It’s hard to do conversions in your head so I usually end up overpaying but at the end of the day, they do need the money.

me and the chief elders

an african child took this one

Our second day in port I went to visit a village and participated in a naming ceremony where they gave me an African name. It is Yaa Mansa.  It was a lot like a baptism and I got a certificate to keep. There was a little girl no more than 2 walking around collecting the cups we were drinking water out of. I had lost mine so I gave her my world keychain from my backpack instead. I saw her some hours later. She was still holding it. Being in that village was another major highlight. We met the chief and visited a school. There was already a group from SAS that had been there overnight and they were teaching classes. The kids were incredible. The village is made up of clay huts and there is no running water. There are maybe 200 children running around on the schoolyard, some can afford uniforms, others cannot. They were so curious about us and not at all shy. They would come up and touch us and climb on us and ask us for food and water and the clothes off our back. One girl asked my friend for her bra. I gave them my Captain Crunch, which was maybe a mistake because they fought like crazy over it. Seeing the SAS students interact with them was amazing. They were dancing with them, holding them, giving them cameras to play with, drawing them maps of the United States on the chalkboards, playing handclapping games etc. It was nearly impossible to leave them. They were so eager to play with us and they chased our bus out of their village waving and jumping. We drove 10 minutes to a resort for lunch where they had a spread that looked like a wedding reception. It was a difficult transition, all I could think about was taking the food back to the village and how happy the kids would be to have it. 

basketball hoop

elmina slave castle

The following day I had off so I went with a group of people to see the castles and slave dungeons, which I’d heard, were not to miss. We took a local bus there, which was an experience in and of itself. We were solicited the whole way and even when we closed the windows they opened them from the outside to try and sell us stuff, including transportation. The bus driver then tried to charge us extra for the air conditioning, which wasn’t even on. The dungeons were horrifying. They take you down a rocky path in the darkness to the cells and turn off the lights and teach you about the slave trade and the lives of the captives. It wasn’t like being in the castles in Europe. These are authentic to the point where you can feel the suffering. One of the girls I was with broke down and ran out to throw up. We walked through the Door of No Return, which now leads to a fishing beach, and then got to return though it. The most interesting thing I learned is that Africans don’t blame the whites any more than they blame themselves. It was Africans who were rounding up each other and selling them to the buyers, so they have to heal from it just as much as we do. It was especially difficult for me to see the images of the ships the slaves were transported on. They were so crowded and viewed next to our luxury ship my mind was boggled. It was especially eerie because the trip that we had just made from Brazil was literally the reverse “Atlantic crossing.” To unwind we sat on the rocks by the beach and looked at the castle from the outside. 

this is also Ghana

what is on the other side of the door of no return now

For our last day I had signed up for a Drumming and Dace Workshop. We saw some amazing performances by dancers, drummers, acrobats and contortionists and then after lunch we got to learn songs and dances. The drumming came naturally to me; the dancing was harder but fun. All the people from the street stopped to watch us in the courtyard and after school hours a group of kids joined us. The children are definitely my favorite part of Ghana. 

My overall experience is hard to describe. Before coming here I thought about Africa a lot and I have always wanted to visit. I went up to the front of the 8^th deck the morning we arrived to see the sunrise over the continent as we pulled into port. As soon as the Gold Coast came into view I was overwhelmingly happy. I was worried that my experience would be something less than my expectations. It wasn’t, it was so much more, but at the end of some of the greatest days of my life, I felt a sadness that I could not shake. I had a long deep talk with Jason about it and he said something very interesting. He said that our job here is just to Feel. We are not expected to come up with answers to the problems we encounter like world poverty and we are not responsible to learn every aspect of the cultures we try to participate in. He said that years down the line our life choices will reflect what we saw on this trip and how it made us feel, and he and I wondered together if that is enough.

the storm that we left right before it arrived

jason and i after castles