Adam's Ghana Journal

The White man Is Dead

2010-05-04T04:13:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-04-22T06:46:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-01T09:55:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-06T06:31:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-14T06:55:00.000-08:00

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!

!!!!! ?

2009-11-10T09:35:00.000-08:00

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.

Ghana + School = Not Too Shabby!

2009-10-29T07:19:00.000-07:00

It would take a novel to cover all that I've experienced in the past month. I don't want to write a novel. You don't want to read one. I'll see what I can do...

My classroom that I share with more than 40 other students.

School's been in session for about a month now. Classes are long. Tema Secondary School (or "Temasco," for short) uses block scheduling and it can be painful sometimes to sit for two hours as a teacher lectures on noun phrases. I'm in a Form 3 (third year) General Arts class which means that I'm studying Ghanaian/African History, Ghanaian Government, French, and African Literature in addition to the core subjects (English, Social Studies, Sciences, Maths, ICT). Having never been exposed to either of them before, I love learning about Ghanaian history and reading African literature.
What makes school worthwhile though are my unbelievably friendly classmates. I cannot express in words how kind and welcoming they have been to me, and I am even less able to express my gratitude to them. Most of the students at Temasco are boarders (only two other students in my class live off-campus). They spend a lot of time together and it shows. The impenetrable social cliques that plague the average American high school are few and far between.

I stay after school every Tuesday and Friday to rehearse with the brass band. I brought my trumpet mouthpiece with me to Ghana and have been able to pick up one of the school's horns. Rehearsal isn't always easy: the school equipment isn't in the best shape (to put it lightly) and songs are taught by ear for lack of music, but I'm thankful for the community and I get a kick out of learning local Ghanaian highlife tunes and the Ghanaian national anthem.
I attend Peer Mediation Club meetings after school on Thursdays. Nevermind the absurdity of an obroni exchange student mediating in a conflict between two Ghanaian students -- I was invited to the club by its vice president. Word of advice for any exchange student: never turn down an invitation. Even if the thing to which you are first invited proves to be a waste of your time, you have made it known that you want to be made a part of activities, and you will eventually find yourself doing things that you really enjoy. Getting back to the subject of the club: it's not a waste of time. It's another place where I've found myself making new friends and we discuss some good stuff during our meetings. We might even be visiting the Kofi Annan Peacekeeping Center later in the school year...
Bottom line: I'm getting plugged into the Temasco community and it feels good. My classmates make it easy.

school starts at 7:30 every morning with an assembly. On Mondays, we sing hymns in the assembly hall; Wednesdays, the dining hall is converted into a chapel and we have a mini church service (Temasco is technically non-religious, but this is Ghana, and if there's anything about the seperation of church and state in the constitution, it goes unenforced); Every other Friday begins with Student Forum, when hypocritical prefects get tarred and feathered; and the rest of the week begins with hymns, prayers, and patriotic songs in front of the administration building.
school closes at 3:45 PM
we have two breaks: one is around 10 o'clock or so in the morning and it lasts for a half hour, and the other -- our lunch break -- is from 1:45 to 2:30 PM.
the school canteen (cafeteria) is paradise. It's like a food court. There are about 10 women who all have their own food stands. There are so many options (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghanaian_cuisine): kenkey, banku, rice (fried, plain, jollof, or waakye -- rice and beans), biscuits, plantain chips, bowfloats, meat pies, omelettes, and so much more. And it's cheap! One Ghana Cedi (that's about 70 US cents) buys a DELICIOUS bowl of waakye with noodles, salad, and chicken.
quick tangent since I'm already on the topic of food... my favorite dishes: Ga kenkey with pepper/tomato stew, ampesie (boiled yam and unripe plantain) served with tomato stew, waakye, and rice with cabbage stew. Just listing them makes me hungry!
I wake up at 5:30 AM on school days. It's definitely rough to wake up so early, but I share a bathroom with my two younger host siblings and its imperative that I bathe before them if I want to get out of the house on time. Remember also that my bedtime is rarely later than 9:30 PM. Even though it doesn't feel like I am at 5 AM, I'm getting more sleep on a daily basis than I EVER did during my four years at Campolindo High School.
I wear an awful-looking uniform:

First day of school

I commute to and from school. I take taxi and trotro and I walk quite a bit. In all, it takes me about an hour to get to school and an hour to an hour-and-a-half to get home. So far, I really enjoy the commute. It makes me feel local; I don't feel like I'm as much of an outsider when I'm wearing my butt-ugly school uniform, crammed inside a trotro along with 20 or so Ghanaians. I also get an awesome view of the ocean (check it out: Mighty Beach), which always manages to calm any anxieties that I have on my way to school in the morning.

I've had some interesting conversations with my classmates -- conversations that make this exchange experience seem bigger than myself and worthy of the time and resources that AFS, YES, and the US State Department have put into it. Some are about faith. I've already mentioned how spiritual Ghanaians are. The first thing my classmates asked me after learning my name was if I believed in God. Then they wanted to know if I too believed that humans evolved from monkeys. It was difficult to explain in simple English how, as a Christian, I find science and the god of the Bible reconcilable.
I've been able to bring my school yearbook and a photo album to class a few times as well, and that also got 'em talking. I found myself explaining the Gay Straight Alliance, water polo, school dances, and the sheer embarassing SIZE of the yearbook to all the classmates who were huddled around me. They even had me sing some of the mariachi song that I performed at the Mr. GQ pageant at Campo.
Another thing: the USA isn't the center of the world, and the world's citizens aren't all versed in American history. I am often asked if it's "true that Britain also colonized America." I feel like I'm really making a difference when I explain to people who the real Americans are -- Native Americans -- and that the rest of us are all the descendants of immigrants. Even if it's only subconscious, most Ghanaians seem to have the perception that a true American is a White American. It's a privelege to be the one who can share with them an America that is more diverse than they can imagine.

I'll be writing another post within the next few days. I'm on mid-term break, so I have Friday and Monday off from school.

Till then!

T.I.A.

2009-09-18T03:49:00.000-07:00

"This is Africa."

It's a common, loaded phrase used by people here -- an expression of frustration and disappointment when something doesn't go the way that you'd hoped it would or that you'd thought it should. It's uttered by your mom as she reads a newspaper article on corruption in the Kenyan government, or by your brother when an episode of the Cosby Show is cut short by a power outage. It's as if these moments rudely awaken Ghanaians to the reality that they're not "there" yet -- "there" as in (as I take it) on par with the Western world and in enjoyment of the comfortable standard of living that it assumingly holds for all of its inhabitants. More important than that word "there," however, is that word "yet," because while "T.I.A." seems (I speak for myself) laced with a sad cynicism, it's often spoken in a surprisingly cheerful, playful, "gotcha" sort of tone. That tone reminds me that these are not resigned people and that "T.I.A" doesn't have to be a defeatist statement. It's an acknowledgment of the often difficult realities faced by this continent and an acceptance of the fact that Africa is not "there." Yet.

I was on Ghanaian television!
A couple days after my last blog post I went with the other YES Abroad Americans to the closing ceremony for the Ghana Muslim Academy, a free six-week vacation (summer) school for Junior High and High School-aged students that serves to bolster the education of Muslims and non-Muslims alike before Ghanaian schools reopen in mid-September. There were a couple hundred students at the ceremony and each of us Americans gave a 3-5 minute speech on why we wanted to be a part of the YES Abroad program and our experiences so far in Ghana. The chairman of the event was a GTV (national TV network) talk show host and during his hour-long broadcast the following day he mentioned the ceremony and his appreciation for the Americans (that's me) who have come to Ghana to learn about Muslim culture and showed pics of the event -- including one of yours truly.

On September 11th, I went with the same batch of Americans to observe Friday prayers in an Accra mosque. It wasn't a mosque in the traditional, architectural sense, but rather a storied commercial building (they were selling bathtubs on the first floor) that had been converted into a clean, quiet, properly furnished house of worship. I went through ablution before entering, washing my hands, forearms, mouth, nose, face, ears, the top of my head, and my feet (there's a specific order that I've forgotten). I went upstairs to where the prayers were to take place (at this point I was alone since men and women are separated) and found a place to sit. A call to prayer was given, and then the Imam rose to give a sermon. He spoke about Islam and its central theme or message: peace. I was pleased. This is what I had hoped would be preached on a day when we remember the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Then the Imam spoke of "the so-called terrorists" (which ones and where they terrorized, he didn't say) and reminded us that they aren't terrorists, but freedom fighters. *sigh* I'm sure he didn't mean for it to sound like he was excusing terrorism the world over, but some specification would have been REALLY helpful. Thankfully, he quickly returned from his overly ambiguous tangent to speak of Salaam -- our yearning for it and the source of it: Allah. The Imam finished his sermon and I watched from the back of the room as everyone prostrated themselves in submission and prayer. That was very cool. New experiences always are.

I attended the Western-style wedding that followed the Ghanaian marriage ceremony I wrote about in the last post. There was a huge reception afterward in the courtyard of a hotel. At some point during the reception, the MC of the event asked if "fifteen young, athletic girls" would please come forward to help serve the food. His call was answered: 15 invited guests of the bride and groom joined the caterers behind the serving line, serving the male and less "athletic" female guests at the reception... While I was eating my meal of banku (ball of cassava and corn dough) and okro stew (fish/vegetable), a small boy walked up nearby the place where I was sitting and started "urinating" (to use the proper British/Ghanaian English) on the hotel wall. Nobody stopped him. In Ghana, if you gotta go, you gotta go.

View from a balcony in the Eastern Region. The man in the picture is my host father.

I went to the Eastern Region with my host family last Saturday to attend the funeral of a family relative. On our way, my host dad saw someone he knew at a bus stop. It didn't matter that the guy was headed in the complete opposite direction of our destination, we gave him a ride. Needless to say, we missed the funeral. No matter -- we were hungry, so we stopped by the home of my host dad's distant, distant cousin (the man didn't know the names of my host siblings) uninvited and were fed a full Fante (name of a tribe) kenkey (like banku, prepared differently) meal. We ate on the cousin's balcony where we had an INCREDIBLE view of a lush green valley. The Eastern Region is mountainous countryside and it is beautiful. It started to rain while we were eating which only added to the beauty. I have photos from the trip that I'll post next time. One thing: we missed the funeral, but it seemed as if there was a funeral (or a wedding) going on in every village that we passed. The entire community comes out for them, so the dirt roads were lined with people in traditional red and black funeral wear.

Random notes:

Ghallywood -- Ghanaian film industry
Nollywood -- Nigerian film industry
The Ghanaian political climate is intensely partisan (between 2 main parties: current ruling party, NDC, and opposition party, NPP). My 14 year old host sister once said only half-jokingly in reference to GH President John E. Atta-Mills, "Atta-Mills is the devil incarnate."
It pains me, but every Wednesday night I watch WWE with my host mom and brother. They love that crud.
My most used phrase (in response to "Are you hungry?", "Are you alright?"): "It's O.K."
I bought a djembe that I practice in front of my house. Once I've gotten past the self-consciousness (the drum is so loud), I get lost in the Ghanaian rhythms.
There are homemade doughnut holes here called barfroats (sp?, pron. "bow-float") that taste like paradise. Quick story: I was walking with other YES-ers to buy them one day, and two boys ran up and held my hands as I walked. It was a legit National Geographic moment.

I have had some intense conversations recently. I think of two in particular.

The first was with my host mom, on the evening of September 11th, after I attended prayers at the mosque (she wasn't aware that I had gone to the mosque). We were watching Al Jazeera English together when a story came on about skinhead types who were outside of a London mosque protesting against the purported Islamization of Europe and scuffling with riot police. My host mom misunderstood the broadcast to mean that Muslims were doing the rioting. She proceeded to enlighten me, saying, "You see that all over the world ... where there are Muslims ... it is rowdy," and named different Muslim communities in Ghana that "cause trouble." Here's what I wrote in my journal that night in response to her words: "... that was very, very disheartening (especially considering the nature of the YES program). I had to hold my tongue and tell myself that I can be a positive voice of tolerance in this household."

Stirring Banku over a charcoal stove. It's harder than it looks. That's Sister Obiele (speaks barely any English) on my right and Sister Mutia/Adjoa (fluent in English) on my left. Both are house helpers.

The second conversation I had was with one of my host family's "house helpers," Adjoa. I've been hanging around the house quite a bit this past month and Adjoa's been a huge help to me as I've adjusted to life here. Two days ago, as I helped her prepare banku, Adjoa talked about what it means to be an African woman. She spoke of being confined to the home and of men's insistence on doing little -- if anything -- to help around the household. We came to the conclusion that the expectation that men work a job and that women care for the home and children is predicated on the man bringing home a sufficiently large paycheck. If the man provides, a woman's bondage to the home remains less than ideal, but at least it makes a trace of sense. Adjoa said that what ticks her off most is when a man is unemployed but he continues to insist that the wife bear all domestic responsibilities. I asked her what gives him the right to do so. She said, "It's the way that our forefathers did things."
After some silence, Adjoa came forward with a personal solution to the colossal problem of gender inequality in her country: "I want to marry a white man," she said, implying that a white man would either have enough money that she wouldn't mind being a domestic engineer (I love that euphemism) or that -- as an assumingly enlightened white man -- he would treat her justly as an equal. I told her that the issue of gender inequality stretches beyond the African continent. More silence. She laughed. It was one of those chuckles that's a common substitute for tears. "Last night," she said, "I prayed to God, asking Him why He made me a black woman."

Intense.

www.adamtoghana.blogspot.com

The Nitty Gritty

2009-09-01T07:11:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone! I loved reading your comments on my last post (here on the blog and on facebook). It really means a lot to hear from each of you.

I've looked back over my posts so far and I realize that much is missing. I know they're long but they're full of more "plot" summary than I can stomach. Since I have activities lined up every day for another week or so, I thought I'd hit up the internet cafe so that I could share, bullet point-style, the in-between: the everyday things that make Tema, Ghana different from Moraga, California.

Things that are different:

the stares: I am the only white person. Everywhere I go. From a distance, people eye me with a look that doesn't appear friendly. It's as if they aren't sure what to do with the token obruni ("white person" in Twi) in their neighborhood or the marketplace. The children will yell out "obruni!" and smile, but the adults I come across clearly consider me less of a novelty. For a moment, their stares make me question the friendliness that I was told I'd experience in this country. But then, I get closer to the people who are staring. While walking on the side of the road, I'll pass through, instead of by, a group of people. When I get close enough to one of these strangers, they greet me and want to know my name. I've never felt as invasive as I have here, simply because I look different. It's encouraging to know that the closer I get to these people and to their way of life, the more I will experience their warmth.
the weather: Right now, it's the end of the rain season (dry season will "begin" any day now and last until March-ish), so the weather is pretty comfortable: temperatures around mid-70s to mid-80s Fahrenheit (mid-20's Celsius?). The big difference is in the humidity. Humidity is around 65% right now and it makes all your sweat stick to your skin. Fun!
laundry: Like pretty much every other Ghanaian, I wash my clothes by hand. It takes me forever and I'm flippin' awful at it. Makes your clothes stiff, too.
inconsistent tap water/electricity: Since water and electricity are almost permanently in less-than-full supply, both resources are rationed. The city where I live, Tema, just got running water back after two days without (my host family has big bins of backup water that they keep on standby).
the dirt: Everything is dirtier. The water, the air (pollution is a huge problem in the capital city of Accra), everything. Dirt just seems to find its way into every nook and cranny. Body odor is no good, either. To my Ghanaian brothas and sistas' defense, it is kind of futile to wear deodorant...
"waste management:" "Rubbish" is either burned or thrown on the side of the road. Most rooms don't have a garbage can in them. I know that seems like a small thing, but you start noticing it when you can NEVER find a "rubbish bin."
television: I've already talked about how much it's watched. I haven't spoken about what is watched. Soap operas, soap operas, and more soap operas. They watch Ghanaian drama series, in addition to poorly dubbed Mexican, Filipino, and Chinese drama series. I'm not a fan. Other than scenes of old women sobbing, one can find the news, football, or old American films (that I've never heard of) to watch on the tube.
poverty: Ghana is a developing country, no doubt about it. It's shocking at times to be driving on a main expressway and to see a straight up slum smack dab in the middle of an otherwise "healthy" urban area. My host father is an insurance broker (as is my host mother) and on the way to my djembe lesson at AFS one day, he swung by a lead mill that he insures to check on the damage done by a small fire that had broken out the night before. As he went inside to speak with the owner, I sat in the car and watched young laborers (all around 18-20 y.o.), male and female, rummaging through a pile of scrap for lead. Their clothes were covered in the stuff... In addition to the young (and some old) folks selling goods at intersections, there are beggars all over as well. Foreigners, the elderly, the disabled or mentally ill, walk up to your car window, tap on the glass and point to their mouths. Oftentimes, children will lead blind men and women by the hand through the unpredictable traffic in search of spare change.
the security issue: every relatively large house, including my own, is surrounded by high walls (decked out with barbed wire/spikes/broken glass) and has a large metal gate at the entrance. Many homes have gatemen or security guards that man the post. In nicer neighborhoods, a special police patrol drives around to prevent armed robberies. I feel safe here but the police just don't hold the same kind of sway that American cops do.
the roads: as in most developing countries, driving in Ghana is unpredictable. Motorcycles (and sometimes cars) drive on sidewalks in the city. Paved roads are littered with massive potholes that drivers swerve around at top speed. The dirt roads near my home are even crazier. My host dad off-roads everyday in his old Benz on the way to work. I'm told tires (and often shocks) generally need to be replaced every 6 months or so.
concept of time: Ghanaian time is not American time. Things don't start on time. The day's plans aren't announced well in advance. This is definitely different for me. My American mom is known to hold frequent "strategy sessions," when she exhaustively goes over family plans for how upcoming time should be spent... My host family is early to bed and early to rise. I'm on "summer break" right now (along with 2 of my host siblings) and we all go to bed between 8:30 and 10 PM and wake up between 6:30 and 7:30 in the morning. Not sure how I feel about that yet...
the food: I'll talk about this more later. Let's just say that I'm liking some dishes, and tolerating most others. But the meat is incredible. My host family owns a farm in the father's home village in the Eastern region and all the chicken, goat, lamb, and beef that we eat is fresh from their farm.
WEDDINGS!: I went to a traditional Ghanaian wedding on Saturday (a Western wedding will take place in a church this coming Saturday) for my host father's nephew. It took place in the front yard of what I think was the bride's family's home. Everyone was decked out in African prints and traditional threads. In a traditional Ghanaian wedding (some of the other details vary by tribe, but...), the groom's family presents a dowry to the family of the bride (to be split between the bride's parents and male siblings of the bride). On this occasion, the groom came with a lump of cash, a bible, a hymn book, and other gifts that I couldn't make out (ALL the talking was in Twi so I couldn't understand much of anything.). The groom's mother would pick up each gift, say what seemed to be a mini sermon, break into a hymn, and then pass the gift on to the mother of the bride, who would go into a similar preaching/hymn-singing session. There was spontaneous singing and dancing and food was served. The elders of both families rose to speak and one of the family patriarchs came forward at the end to lead a prayer and to oversee an exchange of wedding rings. I've been told that the newlyweds are honeymooning (they're considered officially married) this week and will be back in time for a second round of marriage rites this coming Saturday.
gender roles: in the home, it's clear that women and men are thought to have their place. While I am involved in chores around the house along with my younger host brother, our chores differ in nature from those of the girls. We wash the car, tend to the yard, do heavy lifting, and the like. Women sweep, wash dishes (and most everything else)... you get the picture. It's not as if I never sweep or do dishes, it's just more appropriate for me to do otherwise. Also, my host father is expected to do very little in the home. His work ends the moment he steps foot in the house (it's kind of the same for my host mom, though, since she works as well). This is definitely different...

Things that are the same:

public housing: the projects are just as bad here as they are in the U.S.

Sidenotes:

Ghanaians love Rod Stewart and country music. It cracks me up.
My host family is great. I want to write about the family dynamics, but I have so many thoughts flying around in that part of my mind that I'll just have to get back to you on that one. What I can say is that things get frustrating sometimes at home. At a time in my life when I am very much ready for independence and the college life, it's tough to be 'confined' in a way by my new family. Again, this topic's for another post.

Thanks for checking in!

Adam

www.adamtoghana.blogspot.com

Moving In

2009-08-27T05:42:00.000-07:00

Much has happened in the two weeks since my last post.

At the completion of my orientation in Accra, I was supposed to be met by my host family. Instead, I was told that my host family had "business to take care of" (shady, I know) and that I would be spending the next week with a fellow YES Abroad-er and her host family. It was a frustrating week. While I enjoyed the new foods, people, and sights, my stomach was NOT loving what I was putting into it, and I was growing increasingly lethargic from watching T.V. with my temporary host family all day.

Last Friday, I moved in with my 'real' host family. It was an awkward meeting. I arrived with an AFS volunteer to the home and was greeted by a smiling Akosua (14 y.o. host sister), the two 'house helpers' - Adjoa and Mutia (sp?), and Akua (college-aged host sister). Host parents arrived later along with host brother and roommate, Baffour (10 1/2 y.o.). The whole situation went from awkward to stellar in an instant, though, when I was sitting with my new host brother and sisters at the dining room table and amid nervous conversation, "Will You Be There," an absolutely incredible musical number (also known as "The Free Willy Song") by a certain Michael Jackson , began playing on one of their cell phones. I sang along, high-pitched MJ yelps and everything. I knew right then that things were going to be alright, and that the family would like at least one of the gifts that I had brought them: the Thriller album.

I went to church with the family on Sunday. They attend a rather large "Presby," as they call Presbyterian churches here. It's named The Presbyterian Church of Ghana, Hope Congregation -- or simply "Hope" for short. It was a great experience. Ghana is a very spiritual country. Spirituality and religion invade every area of life here. The TV shows often center around "Christian" messages (or pastors gone bad), worship/gospel music is everywhere, EVERY side-of-the-road stand has a sign hanging over it that reads "Jesus is my all" or something of the like, and taxis and tro-tros (minibuses) differentiate themselves by putting proverbial sayings in their back windows. I could go on. Bottom line: Ghana is an intensely spiritual country. I thought going into this year that, as a Christian, this would be a positive, challenging change. I hoped that I might learn something from these people who appear to understand what it means to seek God in their daily lives. Unfortunately, my actual experience so far has been more disheartening than encouraging in this regard. Most, if not all, of the theology that I've come across here is either watered down and far too simplistic for my liking, or it's completely off-base. Thankfully, this wasn't the case at "Hope." Aside from the service's 7 AM start time (it ended at 9:30), I really enjoyed the worship experience. I'll be looking for other signs of intellectually honest, substantive faith here. I'll also try to post pictures of the church in the near future.

Speaking of churches, I was showing Baffour pictures that I had brought from home and when I showed him a picture of First Pres. Berkeley, he said, "That looks just like our parliament house!" How's that for a cross-cultural moment?

As far as new experiences go, since my last post I've had my first:
Tro-tro (beat-up mini bus) ride, fufu making/eating session (Fufu is a staple of the Ghanaian diet -- a carbohydrate/starch-packed blend of cassava, plantains, and another ingredient that I can't remember. It's all pounded together and used when eating with one's hands to scoop stew/soup. You're supposed to swallow it without chewing. No luck with that so far), trash (or "rubbish") burning session (that's waste management in developing nations for ya!), and taste of Ghanaian chocolate (delicious!).

I've definitely had my moments of homesickness, of second thoughts, of doubts about the days, weeks, and months to come. My longing for the familiar was most intense right after I finished unpacking my things into Baffour's room. I realized that I'm not traveling anymore. I've landed. There's no flight to catch. Mommy hasn't packed me treats for the plane (though she did and they were delicious. Thanks Mom!). I'm living with this new family and I desperately need to live and think in the present.

It helps if I stay busy. I try. Most of the days have been spent watching TV, and although I LOVE watching all the futbol, it gets really old. I have djembe (drumming) lessons three times a week at the AFS office, which I've really enjoyed (I think I'm getting pretty good). I also had the chance to play some basketball with a neighbor down the street from my host family. It was great to spend time with a guy my age and to get some excercise for once.

There is a language barrier. Accents are often thick and make English tough to understand. Some of the English phrases they use are funky, too.

Conversations often go in and out of Twi as well, leaving me completely clueless as to what is being said. It's been difficult to try and learn the language, seeing as everyone can speak English fluently. I really want to learn though. Hopefully I'll be able to pick it up more when I start school in two weeks and chat with classmates.

I'm anxious to start school. It'll be a nice change to go somewhere and do something every day.

That's about all that I can think of to write. I've posted a few more pictures to Picasa. Please feel free to email. I love getting your comments and I'm happy to respond to any questions.

ALSO, I've confirmed my mailing address. You can find it on the right side of my blog page. Letters are always appreciated as are any newspaper clippings you might find on Ghana. No packages yet, please. It's recommended that those be sent through the embassy and I don't know all that is involved in that.

Yebehyia (pron. yebeshya, "we'll meet again")!

Always,

Adam

A word on pictures: Bear with me on the photos. The pictures that I REALLY want to take (of all the things on the streets), I feel uncomfortable taking. It's simply inappropriate for me to walk around the neighborhood or in downtown Accra and take pictures of people and their wares as if they're on display. Most of the pictures you see are taken from the car, where I can snap a photo without anyone noticing.

!!!!!!! Photo upload didn't work at the internet cafe. I'll try to get them up next time.

YES Orientation and Arrival in Accra

2009-08-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

Oh my word.

It's tough to summon words for this post. I've been in a daze since I arrived in D.C. on Saturday, and things have only gotten more unbelievable since our plane touched down in Accra.

The YES orientation in D.C. was neat. I got to hang with the other American YES Abroad 'scholars,' I went through several orientation activities, and I learned a crazy amount of information about Ghana from my group leader, a resident of Central Accra.

The coolest part of the orientation, though, was that all of the foreign YES participants (expect those from Malaysia) arrived on Sunday, August 9th, for their orientation. This meant that there were 400 students from Indonesia, Thailand, the Philippines, India, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Ghana, Kenya, and Mozambique staying in the Dulles Airport Hilton and going through orientation with us. The State Dept. orchestrated the crossover and rumor has it that Obama requested it himself so that he might be able to address us at the State Dept. offices on Monday (his trip to Mexico got in the way). Regardless, it was sweet getting to go to the Ghanaian Embassy with the students from Ghana (30 in total; they all sang in unison on the bus). They were very traditional Ghanaians and were from the extremely rural northern region of GH, whereas I will be living in the more Westernized southern city of Accra. I got to talk it up with them. They were friendly and I felt safe practicing my Twi (language of the southern Akan tribe -- they didn't all speak it) and initiating conversation with them.

It was very hard for me to sleep in D.C. I didn't feel particularly anxious, but when it came time to go to sleep at night, it would take me hours to light out (which is unbelievably rare). There were times when it would hit me that I was about to spend an entire school year in Ghana and I would ask myself: "What the fat am I doing?" One AFS volunteer asked me, "Are you excited to be moving to Accra?" Moving?? Yes, moving. Insane.

During our orientation in D.C., our group leader would tell us things that were different about Ghanaian culture, and then finish nearly every bit of advice by saying that it "wasn't like that in Accra," or that "Accra is pretty Westernized, it's really not that different." Well, let me tell you. Accra is different from anyplace I've ever been. Open sewers (which I slipped into yesterday), street merchants EVERYWHERE, dirt, smells, spicy food, decrepit buildings, beautiful trees/plants, and incredibly fresh fruit (pineapples = amazing!). The area surrounding my hostel and the AFS Ghana offices is far poorer than I imagined.

Check out my pics on Picasa. They barely capture it. I've gotta go.

Tootles.

This Is It!

2009-08-06T17:38:00.000-07:00

I leave for D.C. tomorrow. I'll be spending three days there before I fly to Ghana next Tuesday, August 11th.

For those who don't know, I'm going to be spending the school year (August 7th to June 25th) in Ghana through a scholarship program called Youth Exchange and Study (YES), or YES Abroad, that is funded by the State Dept. and is run through the American Field Service (AFS). There's more info about the YES Abroad program here: http://www.yesprograms.org/yesabroad

Because I'm part of the YES scholarship program, I'll be having an orientation in Washington, D.C. where I'll go through basic AFS pre-departure activities, do a bit of sightseeing, and have the chance to visit a gallery of Islamic Art, the State Department offices, and the Ghanaian Embassy.

I will also have an orientation when I arrive in Accra, the capital of Ghana (where I'll be living), on August 12th. The orientation will last until August 15th, when I will meet my host family.

Last Friday, I finally received my host family information from AFS-Ghana. I'll be staying with a family of SIX.

The parents' names are Nathan and Gillian and they have three daughters and one son. The daughters' names are Akosua (14 y.o.), Akua (21), and Yaa (25). The son is named Baffour and he's 10 1/2 years old.
I love that I have a younger 'brother' and that my host family's large. It'll be fun living in a full house.

As far as my preparations go, I'm nearly set. I've said my goodbyes and I'm nearly packed (except at this point, nothing's actually in the bag...). I've bought gifts for my host family: the Thriller album, some Cal t-shirts, some Cal keychains, and a small serving plate with a scene of the wine country painted on it. I hope they like it all!

Between now and tomorrow night, I need to gather photos that I want to bring, run a few errands to buy some things, do some last minute research on Ghana and the US (yeah right), and get STOKED for Ghana.

Tomorrow's the first day of the 3-day OMPA championship swim meet and I'm swimming/coaching so we'll see how much actually gets done.

It's gonna be wild.