When you ask me, “How was Africa!!!?”

Well y’all, it’s been a while. Laziness? No, not really. I just can’t say I’ve felt like spending long hours in an internet café tirelessly recounting all of my journeys. I wrote them down (well, all but one, which I guess is the real reason for this post) but my last few weekends have amounted to a few experiences that are probably worth mentioning.

They have been low key trips- I won’t begin to pretend that I have equal energy and patience for particular cultural tics of Ghana as I did during some of my earlier, more ambitious travels. I’ve spent a lot of time at the beach lately.

I spent one weekend in Ada Foah, outside of the tiny town where the Volta River meets the Atlantic. Really neat beach resort started by a nice Rasta man who has also started a school for the peninsula village (it’s too far to walk to town every day.) I took lots of pictures here, because it was pretty much paradise. We met cool Aussies and Canadians and ate banana pancakes! Really, I didn’t have a useful or intelligent thought all weekend…

The next weekend I started a week long trip out the west coast of Ghana with my trusty friend Lindsay. We started out in Cape Coast, a charmingly dilapidated town associated with the slave trade. I roamed around alone, sans hassle, and toured the Cape Coast Castle. This was a wholly different experience than touring the castle at Elmina with CIEE. For one, this time I was the only white person in a group of Catholic school children and their teachers, not one of 35 white college students. Observing their reactions to the gruesome tour, and experiencing their reactions to my being there, and to my emotions was extremely interesting. At one point, when the kids were laughing at something that really wasn’t funny, and staring at me as they muttered in Twi, of course figured it had something to do with me. When I asked what was so funny (only to elicit more giggles) their teacher told me “it is too sad, so they must laugh- but not at you.” Ah, understanding. Later, as I asked one of the teachers a question when I hadn’t properly heard the guide, she explained “Your people did this. Your people shoved them down this hole to the ground.” When I explained in a reactionary defense, “Oh no, I’m not British” she laughed, “Yes, still your people, white people.” Ah, association. The practices at this particular castle seemed to be much worse than at Elmina, but I’ll spare you the details…

We moved on to Domamma, (yes, it rhymes with “yo Mama”) to hike to a massive rock shrine and float down the Pra River in a canoe. The 5 hour hike though small settlements and cocoa plantations was delightful, but not nearly as cool as sitting with the chief for three hours discussing all the world problems. After that it was on to Prince’s Town, a small town on the beach that is extremely secluded. Here we hiked to Cape Three Points, the southern most tip of Ghana, and stayed in Fort Gross Fried-something, the only German trade/slave fort in Ghana. Very cool experience- it involved a brawl and machete throwing! Ask me about that one sometime… Then on to the fabled Green Turtle Lodge, an eco tourism beach resort where we stayed in this great little bungalow with self composting toilets, shower water the feeds the plants, and got served our cocktails by the local employees. Needless to say, I wish we’d had another day there, but my friend and I were seriously out of money…

This past weekend I had the privilege of going to a Ghanaian wedding! Well, technically it was two weddings- both the traditional wedding, now called the “engagement,” and the Christian church wedding that pretty much all Ghanaians do these days. Mind you, I had never met the bride or the groom before I got there- friends of a friend, but in Ghana that is quite beside the point. I was a friend of a friend, and sure! I could take tons of pictures of their wedding and watch everyone get ready the day before. The bride’s family was wonderful. The women talked and teased with me as I watched them prepare traditional kenkey for the reception (it’s boiled corn dough wrapped in corn leaves, eaten uncooked with pepper sauce with fried fish- way up there on my list of Ghana foods.) The morning of the wedding/engagement everyone bustled about putting last touches on the front yard canopy in their full traditional dresses and toga-like dresses (the men). At 7am all the family and close friends gathered to watch the negotiation of the bride price, as MC’d by the bride’s quite loud mouthed sister (not much of a singer either, ouch!) This is a matrilineal part of Ghana, so when the groom's family pays for the bride, she really is considered a part of her husband’s family and not her own. The marriage is a union of two families, not two people, so every in-law of the huge combined family must get along… Anyway, the bride price in this particular arrangement involved several cases of Coca Cola products (I assume for the reception, I hope she wasn’t really paid for with soda…), a suitcase of God knows what, bottles of champagne, and some amount of money. After all this was passed over the MC/sister passed a tray around for the groom’s family calling “20 cidi!” I think to try and collect a nominal amount of cash to be publicly handed over, because the real amount of money should’ve been much larger. The bride's and groom's families then proceeded bargain over this amount! It really was very amusing. Mind you, the bride and groom were not present throughout this whole ordeal. The groom finally made an appearance, danced into the area by all the women in his family, looking throughly embarrassed. A similar song and dance ushered in the bride, who sat quite far away from the groom, and they didn't look at each other once. At this point, the brides family had to "approve" of her wedding ring. Apparently they did (I forgot to mention this entire ceremony was taking place in Ewe, a language I clearly do not speak) and the groom was allowed to put the ring on her finger before they shared the most awkwardly public hug I've ever seen. Much cheering ensued, and the bride and groom finally got to sit next to each other (no touching, no kiss.) The brides family proceeded to pass out white bread and hot chocolate for all. It was only 8am, but the coco struck me as funny- especially since all the brides attendants were wearing matching t-shirts of the coco brand. They looked like people working for a racecar driver, not for a bride. The wedding gifts were a plastic cup and a sweat rag- quite typical, I'm told...

Then it was on to the church wedding. Well, it was really a church service, where people happened to get married partway through, it seemed. The dancing though the church after the couple exchanged their vows was so fun to watch (I got up and shook round a little.) Everyone was so happy. The youth choir of the church sang in their matching t-shirts. The friend who took me to the wedding also sang- he happens to be a really popular gospel artist in this area. However, I cringed through msot of the ceremony. Let me share a few particularly memorable quotes:
"You must always think your husband is the best person in the whole world, and tell others as such. Even when he beats you in the home, tell people he's the best."
"It is your duty to provide the food he likes. If you are out with your friends, and it is 6 o'clock, you must rush home to feed him." (In Ghana, it's ok to beat your wife if she doesn't do this. But don't worry, her husband is the best!)
"Always attend to his physical desires, it is also your duty, even when you don't want to."
Mind you, to each of these statements, the gathered party laughed and cheered their assent.
And, of course, Ephesians 5:22. "Wives, submit to your husbands..."
Good grief.

Changing subjects. It’s been quite interesting to be in Africa as Barak Obama claims the nomination. Lot’s of talk about how his being half Kenyan, and an “African American” will affect his policy towards Africa. Will he fix the United States? Will he be more likely to assist with Africa’s myriad of problems- South African xenophobia, Zimbabwe’s crap elections, Sudan (genocide), Sudan (their other political crisis), and the sudden rise in starving people in Ethiopia, cocaine (lots of places), and especially, Nigeria’s problems with their oil industry, and Ghana’s recent oil discovery. On some people’s part, their seems to be an expectation that he will “help” Africa because of his heritage. Other’s say that he would be the American president, not Africa’s (I listen to radio talk shows a lot.) The majority of people I’ve met here love Obama (I think you only need one guess to know why) though their were also a lot of Hillary supporters (so people really think they should be on the same ticket.) There is this hysterical song on the radio that is the “Barak Obama Song” by an artist called Black Rasta. It’s a rallying point for Obama’s support, and I really hope I can find it on line when I get home.

I leave in 4 days. It’s weird. Time is surging by. My countdown of days is going down so quickly. I have such mixed feelings. I’ve come to enjoy my life in Ghana, really I do. If you talked me any time in the first two months I was here, I was kind of a miserable human being. It took two months to get over being homesick (more or less over it anyway), and almost 3 months to really feel a sense of stability. Even now, I don’t love it. I’ve never been in love with Ghana, despite many moments of feeling so in love with what I was doing- I have loved teaching and being in the orphanage, I am so deeply thankful for those experiences, I’ve really enjoyed learning about Ghanaian and African development, and taking Sociology and Religion class in a new environment. I’ve made some great friends, from all over the country and out into the UK and Australia. I’ve experienced some really fascinating traditions (see above), discussed the world’s problems with chiefs, made Ghanaian crafts, followed the slave trade route, on and on I could go- but Ghana is not a picnic (as much as my latest pictures depict tropical paradise, complete with a man climbing a coconut tree to get me a snack.) I’ve had it beyond “up to hear” with various parts of the culture- I bitched out one of the recent people to tell me I would be marrying them and take them to the US, who insisted that I must have something against black men because I don’t want to get married RIGHT NOW while I’m in Ghana. I slapped a man who reached out to feel my white skin yesterday. Earlier as I walked down a busy street and the umpteenth person hassled me to buy something, and I ignored them as usual, they called me a “slave driver.” I’m sick of it being OK for men to openly stare at me as I walk by, and of not being able to speak my mind not only because I am female, but because we really do not speak the same language. It’s very difficult to explain oneself here, because the English words we use for things do not carry the same meaning, and some concepts appear not to cross cultures. When you ask me “How was Africa!?”…

But I digress- really, I did not mean for the negative list to outweigh the positive one- just to try and explain that the “little things” that I used to have more of a sense of humor about feel less little and more obnoxious now. It’s time to go home. Is it really? I have a wonderful vacation, summer, and senior year (already!?) ahead of me, but it’s quite hard to imagine them from here. I’m saddened to have so many lasts occurring right now- last meals of my favorite Ghanaian dishes, last cuddles with the orphans, last bus ride through the stunning countryside, last cold shower etc. My best friends have gone home. My whole “study abroad” thing, what ever that was supposed to be, is coming to a close. I’m at peace with the fact that I didn’t love Ghana. When I look back at the reasons I chose to come here, I realize all of them had the fine print of being uncomfortable. I wanted to go somewhere I wouldn’t vacation, I wanted to be confronted with a very different way of life, I wanted to learn how to on my own for once- I wasn’t hear to make friends really (though I managed a fewJ, or to party, sightsee, or feel particularly cosmopolitan (though I do). I think I remember actually saying “I want to be forced to be uncomfortable.” Goal met! And from this side of it, I’m SO happy about that. I really have gotten exactly what I said I wanted out of Ghana, even if the image I had had of my time didn’t match what it actually was. I feel so good about myself and where I’m headed, even if I don’t know where that is, other than home.

One thing I have gotten is a fire under my ass to go abroad again. I’ve suddenly remembered all these goals I used to have, like having a job where I physically had to get up and do something to help someone and learning Spanish that seemed to become lost in 7 changes of college major. Those goals have been meshed with others that have cropped up since I’ve been here to produce a very conflicted individual who doesn’t see when there will ever be time to settle down in life, but really thinks it would be a hell of a lot more fun to do all of that while abroad. I’m excited and pleased to come of age when Americans really have no choice but to acknowledge that the rest of the world exists. There are opportunities galore for making myself a far more interesting, self-content, and meaningful person if I continue to put myself in Ghana-like situations, rather than just going on to grad school, though one day I still really do want my PhD…