The White man Is Dead

"Yes, pure!"

A girl no older than fifteen is selling purified water at the traffic light. She's wearing a pink shirt with one word written across her chest: "HARVARD."

Chances are this girl doesn't attend school. If she does, she's probably a few grades behind her age-mates and working after classes just to pay her school fees. Where did she get this shirt?

They sell secondhand clothes -- mostly from the States -- all over Accra. The stuff is dirt cheap: a t-shirt might cost 20 pesewas, or 14 US cents (I'd like to see Goodwill beat that price).
The local names for it are "Phose" (meaning unknown) and "Obroni Wawu," meaning "the White man is dead."
I know for a fact that most of the White men and women that wore this clothing are not dead. It's all our waste, our excess spilling over.

I've seen 49ers jerseys and countless graduation shirts. I've seen "Duke Law," "Kerry Edwards," "Geek Squad," "Marines," "Go Army" and a few "Got Beer?"s. Even more common are the kinds of shirts that fill my wardrobe in Moraga: the shirts for school, the swim team, church, the water polo team, etc, etc. Why do we need a t-shirt for EVERYTHING?

It's not just our year-old clothing that's finding its way into Ghana. Ghana is a major dump site for electronic waste (or e-waste) from developed countries.

Greenpeace released this report on e-waste in Ghana in late 2008. Please take a look: "Poisoning the Poor"

It's estimated that an average of 35 tonnes, or more than 1000 units of used television sets, arrive every day in Ghana, Nigeria or Egypt. These T.V. sets, along with other electronic items, are often not reusable and they end up in scrap yards where children as young as five years old expose themselves to toxic chemicals in order to extract materials of value, like copper, from them.

In case you don't feel like reading about this serious issue, you can watch a PBS Frontline story on it here:
"Digital Dumping Ground"



Food for thought.




Q&A

I realize that I never responded to the comments some of you left on my previous blog posts. Please forgive me. I would really like to do some Q&A in my next post, so if you have ANY questions for me, please put them in a comment on this post and I'll happily answer them the next time I write.

Long Story Short

Coco Beach with sisters Akua and Akos.

I write this from an internet cafe that reeks of sweat. I am 87% sure that the men seated at the computer next to mine are engaged in cyber fraud (or Sakawa, as it's commonly known in Ghana). At least the A/C is working. It's about 93 degrees F outside -- a never-ending summer.


Ghana. My relationships with family and friends have grown so much in the past few months. I am beyond feeling acclimated. I feel good. It's only when I take the time to reflect on the past seven, eight (EIGHT??!!) months that I realize how far I've come.

I'm totally comfortable with my Ghanaian family. My host siblings are incredible.
The Twi is coming. I hear "small-small," as Ghanaians say.
NO food in this country can upset my stomach if eaten in moderation.
I have some great friends from school.
The list goes on and on...

Right now I'm on a glorious five-week long break from school.

The last two weeks were mostly spent traveling. Two days after the second trimester of school ended, I traveled with four fellow exchange students and a lone Ghanaian to Ghana's Eastern Region.

Our first stop was Koforidua (or "Kof'town"), a town known for its Thursday bead market.

There were so many clunky (some of the necklaces looked as if they weighed at least ten pounds), colourful, and beautiful beads. I had a rare shopaholic moment in Kof'town. My friends had to literally restrain me in order to get me to stop buying. Check out the picture below (taken from http://cadburydairymilk.typepad.com) and let me know if I'm to blame:

Koforidua Bead Market (Imagine a parking lot full of at least 50 of these stalls).

From Koforidua, it was on to Kwahu for Ghana's annual Easter weekend Paragliding Festival. Yes, paragliding. It was AWEsome. This is Ghana so of course there was a bit of a wait involved... a "bit" meaning about 30 hours of fun bonding time (optimism for the win?) on a mountaintop, but who's counting?

My flight was incredible. My pilot happened to be the organizer of the event so it wasn't long after take-off that we were climbing a thermal alongside a handful of vultures. I must have said "wow" at least thirty times. I can't tell you exactly how high we got, but we were soaring. The flight lasted a good twenty to thirty minutes and towards the end I was allowed to take the reins. Thankfully, landing was left to my pilot. "Do you like rollercoasters?" he asked me. I told him that I did and all I remember him saying after that is "Get ready to feel some G's." http://www.ghanaparagliding.com/

That strip of dirt behind my pilot Walter's head is the 'runway.'

I made it back to Accra on Saturday, the day before Easter. Easter Sunday wasn't as big of a deal in my house as I had thought it would be. I went with my host mom and older sister Akua to the second service (Dad and Baffour went to the new early service at 6 AM < is that an unholy hour or what?). The church was on fire during musical worship. At least, more so than usual. Everyone was dressed in beautiful white or colourful traditional clothing. Handkerchiefs were all up in the hair. It was a full house and because my mom, sister and I had arrived fashionably late (as always), we had to sit at the very front of the sanctuary. I'm so glad that we did. People paraded by, dancing unashamedly and singing their hearts out. I swayed side to side, clapping along to songs of which I only partially understood the words. Then the congregation erupted into a familiar song: "I'm tradin' my sorrow, I'm tradin' my shame, I'm layin' it down for the joy of the Lord." That one got me boogying. The pace of the song was A LOT faster than the tamer obroni version, but we were singing the same words I had sung in youth group and at services in the States. I caught eyes with one of the associate pastors who was grinning ear to ear as he watched me sing and dance. The moment felt incredible.




Dane, Mexican(-American), Hippie, and Yours Truly @ Busua Beach

A few days after Easter, I traveled yet again. This time I hit the road with the infamous female exchange student trio from Accra that includes Sofie, the refined Dane, and my two fellow YESers: Marie, the Mexican from Missouri, and Justine, the red-headed hippie. Together, we're a motley crew.

The four of us spent ten days touring the Southern half of the country. We visited a pottery workshop in the Volta Region, Kumasi's CRAZY Kejetia Market (the largest in West Africa) and Asante Kotoko football stadium in the Ashanti Region, a monkey sanctuary in Brong-Ahafo, and Busua beach in the Western Region. Half the fun (and most of the frustration) was had in getting from one place to another. We had some less-than-safe trotro rides and stayed in some less-than-desirable hotels. We nearly killed each other on more than one occasion. It was a load of fun.

For me, Busua beach was the highlight of the trip. We spent some three (maybe four?) days there and I swear I could have stayed another month. The water was ideal for swimming (and surfing) and the scenery was beautiful beyond description. We stayed at "Peter's Place" right on the water at a nightly cost of around three dollars per head. I swam to an island that was just offshore. I watched as colourful fishing boats came in with their daily catches. I ate Red Red, one of my favorite meals of fried plantain and beans, for dinner in town. I had an amazing time.
Con: I got the worst sunburn of my life. My skin's still peeling.

**PICTURES of beach and monkeys won't upload... Later, I promise.

I'm done traveling for the time being. I'm back home in Tema, chilling with Baffour and his cousin who'll be spending the next couple of weeks with us. My schedule is empty save the occasional drumming lesson, leaving plenty of time to meet up with friends.

I'm really digging my life here. I'll try to share more with you soon.

James Brown Said It Best

Today...

... I was late getting out of the house. There was a big accident on Beach Road so my taxi took a long detour. I could have cared less. In fact, I was so chill with it, that I feel asleep. "Woda?" (Are you sleeping?) the driver asked me. What followed was a significantly long convo with the driver and my fellow passengers -- only in Twi.

... it didn't even matter that I was late to school. A load of the teachers are conveniently on strike.

... I had a more-than-satisfying home-cooked meal for lunch. It only cost me 70 cents.

... I met someone new in the school canteen. The girl overheard me ordering bowfloats (sp, a.k.a. paradise in an edible ball) in Twi and after I told her that I live in Baatsona, she asked me what tribe I'm from.

... two narrow-hipped, narrow-shouldered people sat next to me on the trotro/"troski" on the ride home.

... I only saw three white people. They looked funny.



I feel good.

I knew that I would now.

Alive and Chilling

with Douglas, one of my good friends at Temasco

Hi there.

I just want everyone to know that I am alive and enjoying the Ghanaian life. I've been putting off posting for some time now -- held back by my lack of time, my even greater lack of energy, and by the overwhelming amount of info that I've yet to share.

Another blog post is coming... and when I say "coming" I mean it in the most Ghanaian way possible. You see, in Ghana, when someone says they're coming, it really means that they're going to go away for some time and (eventually) come back. It's very common to be having a conversation with someone only to have them say "I'm coming" and walk away.

That said, I'm coming.


















enjoying a random MASSIVE downpour with Baffour

Let's Catch Up

Hi everyone!

Today is the first day of my Christmas break. I'll be going back to school on January 13th, but in the meantime I look forward to plenty of rest, a bit of exploring, some time with classmates, and a whole lot of time with my host family and their relatives as I share in the Christmas and New Year celebrations.
But for now, here's a MEATY blog post.


^ recent picture with Baffour, my 11 y.o. host brother

There's little indication that Christmas as I know it is approaching. The weather's still hot (the harmattan season has officially begun) and stores remain largely undecorated (Christmas doesn't equal consumerism here). The glimpses of a "Western Christmas" that I do see seem so out of place. First, there are the Christmas trees -- all artificial, of course. They're rare -- only the wealthier families (including my own) buy them. Then there are the carols. Try to imagine. It's hot and dusty here. I'm sweaty. It's hard not to laugh when Bing Crosby's "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" starts playing on the local radio. The irony is impossible to ignore but it's to be expected. After all, Christmas and Christianity are foreign. They are both products of colonialism, and although Ghanaians have adopted them and made them their own, Western cultural elements remain.

Muslim Wedding

I had the opportunity in October (yeah, this info's a little late) to observe a Muslim wedding.
I was graciously hosted for a weekend in the home of the Ghanaian official from the US embassy who oversees the YES program in Ghana, as I believe it was her brother-in-law's wedding that I attended.

On a Saturday, I went with the official's husband to observe the true Muslim wedding, when the marriage is "tied." The mid-morning event took place in a mosque (I'm told this isn't mandatory) and was only attended by men. Inside the mosque, numerous imams -- including the National Chief Imam, whose presence signified the status of the families -- and male members of the bride and groom's families were gathered. It was here that the groom's family presented a dowry to the bride's family. The bride's family then officially accepted the dowry (at this point, it is still appropriate for them to demand more) and the imams prayed over and blessed the marriage.
^ Inside the mosque. The Ntl. Chief
Imam is seated in the chair.

* Note: I gave my camera to a cameraman for these pictures to be taken.


Prayers are lead by the imams.

Note the bowl of candy in the bottom-right hand corner of the picture: everyone got some candy at the close of the ceremony.






Other men observing the ceremony sit outside the mosque.

• The short ceremony that took place in the mosque that morning was the official wedding. All that followed, my hosts said, "is merriment."

Later in the afternoon, a Western-style wedding was held in the auditorium of a technical school in Accra. The auditorium doubles as a church on Sundays, and there was a "Jesus is Lord" banner hanging over the stage that made me laugh inside.




Why the Western style wedding? My hosts explained that many of Ghana's Muslims are converts from Christianity and tend to hold onto aspects of the Christian (and therefore Western) form of the wedding ceremony. Everything has a Muslim spin, though. For example, there was a processional at the beginning of the afternoon wedding, but a Muslim song was sung.

Here's how it went down:

It's custom for the groom and the male heads of the two families to wait for the bride to arrive.

At the center of the table is the groom and at the end is a close friend of the groom's deceased father. Outside of the picture is the bride's father, who is at the other end of the table. Both of the old men wore sunglasses and could be seen sleeping during the ceremony. I assume that the drinks (to be poured for a taste later) on the table are non-alcoholic.


The bride arrives in a new car along with the groom's best man, the bridesmaid, young flower girls, and the ringbearer.








With the bride price paid and the imams' go-ahead, the bride's father hands his daughter over to the groom's family.

In Ghana, it is understood that marriages -- whether Christian or Muslim -- are not only between a man and a woman, but between their two families.





The bride and groom both said vows and presented one another with rings.







The newlyweds. Note that they don't look happy. There was some smiling as the couple exited the building, but both bride and groom kept solemn faces throughout the ceremony.








My host family for the weekend had a shirt sewn for me.







Ghana's #1 cowboy.








The guy taking pictures for me decided to have a few taken of himself.







Soooo many people were sleeping...









... even the flower girl couldn't help but yawn.







The Saturday wedding ended with a reception and feast and was followed on Sunday with parties at both the groom's and bride's homes. The parties went on simultaneously, with friends of the groom at his home, and friends of the bride at hers, until later in the evening when the two parties joined at the groom's home for a huge bash.

In all, the weekend was a great experience. Not only did I have the opportunity to observe a Muslim wedding, but I also had the chance to talk with several Ghanaian Muslims about their beliefs and what it's like to be a Muslim in Ghana.

This is only one of many experiences that I have yet to write about. I hope to share more with you while I am on break, but in the meantime, know that I am doing well, that I feel very much settled into the daily routine of life here (with ALL of its glorious ups and downs) and that I find myself growing closer to my host family and friends every day.

Some random, parting thoughts:

• There's a church (I'd love to know the denomination) about a block away from our house that likes to hold all-night services -- I call them "noise-making sessions" -- on a regular basis. My fondest memory of this beloved church involves waking up at three o'clock in the morning to the sound of the Good News being preached by one of its faithful. Here's my take: Proverbs 27:14

• When I meet people on the street, the second thing they usually do after learning my name and where I'm from is offer a nearby women to me as a wife. I've learned to decline their offers politely in Twi, saying something along the lines of "I'm a school boy, I don't want that."

• When I was first introduced to Edmund, one of the trumpet players in the brass band, he was playing the keyboard in Temasco's instrumental room. "Do you know any worship songs?" he asked. Minutes later we were singing "Mighty to Save," a First Pres Berkeley favorite.

• September 21st was a national holiday in observance of Eid ul-Fitr , the day of celebration and feasting that marks the end of Ramadan (it also happened to be the 100th birthday of Osagyefo Dr. Kwame N'Krumah -- Ghana's first president). It's a different experience to be in a country where Muslim holidays are recognized. Female news anchors even donned veils for the day as a sign of respect. Unfortunately, I didn't get to experience any of the Eid ul-Fitr festivities. I did, however, get a kick out of hearing my college-aged host sister, Akua, call everyone she knew on her cell asking if they had Muslim friends. Eid ul-Fitr parties are fit for crashing, I guess!

Forget my complaints about soap operas, Catalina y Sebastian is the bomb (the dubbing ain't bad either)! I can't tell you the exact day when it's shown (I'm on Ghanaian time, you know), but when it is, I, along with the rest of my host family, am a faithful viewer. Catalina's countless tears may be artificially induced, but the drama is real.



That's all for now. I know this post is long but I hope it's readable.

Please send me any questions you might have -- I could address them in my next post. Suggestions are welcome, too.

Thanks for checking in!

!!!!! ?

View of sunset from outside my house.

I'm not sure how I would describe my emotional state right now. On any given day there are moments when I feel appreciative of Ghanaian culture, understood by the people around me, and generally "up." In such moments I can be found bobbin' my head to whatever's playing on the radio, speaking Twi with a classmate, or hugging my host brother. In the same day, there will be times when I feel critical of the culture that surrounds me, frustrated by my inability to relate to my classmates, my host family, and strangers on the street, and isolated as a result of it all.

How do I deal? Good question. Sometimes I become resigned and I try to avoid everybody and everything. But that doesn't last long. There simply isn't much to keep myself busy with. I know what it is that I should do (prepare yourself for cheesiness), and that is dive into every day headfirst, knowing that I'm going to make mistakes and feel frustrated at times, but being willing to take the risk. Doing what I should do is EXHAUSTING. When I hit a "low" during the day, it's easy to withdraw. It's easy to want to scream at the next person that yells "obroni," announcing to the world that I am indeed white, or to become totally judgmental when the women in my home insist on serving me my food. When I realize that I can't do either of these things, I have two options: crawl inside my shell or keep trucking.

Onyame Adom ("by God's grace"), I'll make it through the coming months. In fact, I hope to do more than make it (I hate to think of this as an endurance test). I hope and pray that I'll continue to have what it takes to stick it out in the hard times, knowing that better times are right around the corner. It's all worthwhile. I'm sure of it.