I’m writing this article with the sound of an African drumbeat keeping rhythm with my typing.
My first week in Ghana, West Africa, has been very different. The trip over the pond was an adventure in itself. I stepped off the plane in Accra on the night of Feb. 12, and a blast of heat hit my face like opening an oven door. Just a short time later, I arrived on the University of Ghana’s campus in Legon (pronounced lay-gone) and began unpacking my two overstuffed suitcases.
I walked onto my dorm room’s porch and looked down to see rolled barbed-wire wrapped around the lower level like one would see at a prison. For a moment I wondered if I had got myself into something I couldn’t handle.
The next morning I wandered downstairs to where other members of the International Student Exchange Program (ISEP) were waiting to go to breakfast. I was placed on the wrong flight due to a mix-up of dates between myself and Student Travel Association (STA), so I showed up a day later than the rest of the group.
We marched off to our breakfast and then to a building across campus to hear a lecture about Ghanaian culture as part of our orientation.
After the lectures we came back to the International Student Hostel (ISH), for a lunch of fish heads, goat meat and rice.
I have a feeling I will be shedding a few pounds over the next few months. Fish heads are just a little too Fear Factor for me, but the rice and goat meat were good.
The next day we heard a lecture and ate lunch before catching a tro tro (a common form of Ghanaian transportation) into Medina, a town very near by. Tro tros are basically vans driven by madmen that take a certain route over and over again for a very low price.
Each destination has a corresponding hand gesture which the “mate,” the person you pay, makes in order to identify which town the tro tro is heading for.
Our group piled onto two different tro tros and headed off for Medina, about 15 minutes away. Cars and other tro tros weaved in and out of traffic like the taxis in New York.People crowded the busy market-place buying and selling clothing, jewelry, food, cell phones, DVD’s and a number of other things.
Women carried baskets on their heads yelling out “Pure water!” and trying to sell the water sachets (water that comes in a bag for a very cheap price). I was extremely thirsty, but I had been warned against drinking the sachets.
When I finally did find a shop that sold bottled water, I guzzled down that 1.5 liter bottle of water like I had never tasted anything so delightful.
Mothers kept their sleeping babies in slings around their backs while they worked in the market, and children ran between the shops playing and occasionally waving at us Americans with impish grins on their faces.
People would walk by and smile big while yelling “Aburo-ni!” which is the Twi word for someone from another land. My train of thought is disrupted by the music outside my window.
A large group of Liberians are staying on campus for some sort of convention, or so I hear. They are all out in the parking lot, playing their drums while they dance and sing. The music is beautiful and its steady melodic rhythm makes it hard for me to keep my concentration.
Medina was my real welcome into Africa. I saw barefoot children who stretched out their empty hands and pleaded with their dark brown eyes.
I wished that I could just empty my pockets and give them everything. Not all of Ghana is impoverished like that, but those images will stay with me.
I want to go back to Medina next week in a much smaller group, maybe just two or three students, in order to have more time to talk to the people.
I know they have a story to tell, and I can’t wait to hear them. Today we listened to some more orientation lectures before we were set free for the evening. I wandered into the Bush Canteen, an outdoor market here on campus, and looked at all the crafty jewelry and clothing the people were selling.
Here in Ghana, we Americans are expected to speak to all the people. It would be considered very rude for me to walk into a room and speak to only one person.
In Ghana, everything is done at a much slower pace, and people make time for each other. Tonight, I caught myself a large distance away from some friends I’ve made here and had to slow myself down.
I’m so used to being in a hurry all the time, and that just doesn’t work here. I’m learning though, and I’m soaking it all in. This will truly be the adventure of a lifetime. One week down . as well as eight mosquitoes.