Ghana

AKWABA! “Welcome” to Ghana. We arrived in Tema, Ghana on Tuesday September 13, 2011. Like in Morocco we were berthed at a busy industrial port. The port of Tema is one of the busiest ports in West Africa. They provide imports to neighboring countries such as Cote D’ivoire, Burkina Faso and Togo.  We were greeted with great hospitality and appreciation in this country. Even now thinking of Ghana the one thing I remember the most is the warmth of the people and the smiling faces that waved to us everywhere we went. Shuttle buses were provided from the port of Tema to the capital city of Accra, which is about 19km away. Lauren and I hopped on to the first shuttle into town. Infrastructure in Ghana is not the greatest. The simple 19km drive from Tema to Accra can take well over an hour in the busy morning hours. Because of this and as an extension of their hospitality Ghanaian authorities insisted on escorting our shuttles to the city and any other fieldtrips taking place in their country. Police motorcades lead the way and parted traffic for us like the Red Sea. Military personnel blocked intersections and redirected traffic. It was crazy. We were like rock stars. Although it was flattering and a cool experience it was just plain weird. When traveling I like to blend in with the locals as much as possible. This was not helping the cause. During the drive to Accra we got our first taste of West Africa. Poverty like we had not seen in Morocco. We drove by the “districts” just outside the port. They were townships saturated with people living in shacks. These housed some of the workers from the port and surrounding areas.  The living conditions were shocking to some to say the least. We arrived in Accra just on the edge of the city of Osu. Before getting off of the bus the tour operator gave us some words of advise: “Not all smiling faces mean well. Not everyone who offers to be you friend is your friend.” As soon as we got off of the bus we were rushed by a group of young men trying to sell us anything from bracelets to artwork to drums. But their sales tactics were the complete opposite of the aggressive variety that I encountered in Morocco. In Ghana they ask your name and become your “friend” in a heartbeat. They give you the Ghanaian handshake (where they hold your hand and then snap with your finger tips at the end) and hugs all around. The guys with the bracelets ask you for your name and within a minute they have a bracelet made with your name on it. They offer it to you as a “gift.” Come on, we all know better. NOTHING in life is free. The tactic here is guilt. They “befriend” you and guilt you into buying things. Fatima didn’t fall for it. ;) After ditching the sales guys and the rest of the SAS crew I was a woman on a mission. My original plans in Ghana were to volunteer at an orphanage but unfortunately that opportunity fell through. After asking around on the ship I found out about an orphanage in the city of Osu. I found directions from locals who insisted Lauren and I take a taxi. We refused to and braved the African sun on a 30-minute walk through Osu to the orphanage. We observed locals on their regular Tuesday afternoon routine. Osu was a mixture of mostly middle class homes and some poorer areas. After asking around we eventually arrived at the orphanage where I would have the biggest disappointment of my life. No, it wasn’t because they would not let me in and play with the children. It was because of the events that would follow and the disturbing information I would later learn from a German student volunteering there. Upon arrival I was informed that I couldn’t visit with the children because I had not been “profiled.” That was totally understandable. However I had it on my heart to leave the school supplies I brought for the children. They had me fill out information in a logbook. I had to write my name and contact info and list what I was leaving. The women who “managed” the orphanage were miserable and did not seem at all thankful or pleased with the fact that I was donating supplies. Lauren pointed out that I was one of few people leaving supplies instead of money. On my way out we met a German student volunteering and working on a research project there. She took us on our first “tro tro” ride to a spot on Tawala beach for lunch. It was the best meal I had in Ghana! Grilled chicken with vegetable rice and freshly made pepper (hot sauce) that had my insides burning for the rest of the day…mmm. Over conversation I found out that this particular orphanage where we met was a governmental institution that was in danger of being closed down because of the crooked employees working there. The employees had been taking advantage of donations coming in and pocketing it for themselves. Mean while 8 children, 2 from the house in which our friend worked died because they were not provided BASIC medical attention they needed. Perhaps the money these government employees pocketed for themselves could have saved 8 lives. Unfortunately we witnessed the negative effects of globalization. It was obviously easy to find this particular orphanage because they were a government institution but it also made it easy for greedy people to take advantage of their popularity. There is no reason why 8 innocent children should’ve died. They took advantage of the fact that no one would ask questions since these children belonged to nobody. As a global citizen you are moved by your anger and concern for the remaining children. But at the same time dealing a with a governmental institution, especially one which is not your own government, makes you realize your limitations. Being aware of situations such as these are a blessing and a burden all at once. Perhaps being aware and passing the word around may eventually get something done. In the mean time you are left feeling helpless and incompetent. If Morocco was a place of growth and new strengths for me, Ghana most certainly was a place of revelation, contemplation and unanswered questions. This couldn’t have been truer then on the next day when I had a Faculty Directed Practica (FDP) with Semester at Sea for my Linguistics class to the slave castles and dungeons of Elmina and Cape Coast. In the US we all learn about slavery and the Middle Passage. Our country’s history is a testament to the horrific truth of slavery and human trafficking. But no textbook, movie, or documentary could ever convey accurately the conditions and disparity in which millions of African people who were forced into slavery lived in. Imagine sharing a cell with hundreds of people at one time. Now imagine having to use the bathroom and not having any way of telling the person chained to you that you need to move to relieve yourself because you don’t speak the same language. The language barriers slaves encountered weren’t solely between them and their European captors but also between them and fellow slaves. We must remember that these people came from different tribes from all over Africa. Some of them who would have never met or had any reason to communicate if it wasn’t for the fact that they were both forced into this unfortunate situation. They lived in the most deplorable inhumane conditions you could possibly imagine. Lines on the walls of the cells mark the height of which human feces would pile up to. The size of the cells and the way they were enclosed were enough to make anyone claustrophobic. As if that wasn’t startling enough our tour guide Alex further explained the monstrous things such as death chambers and rape that went on inside the castle. The same held true at our second tour at the Cape Coast Castle.
I found it ironic that at both of these places there were churches and all kinds of biblical verses engraved on signs around the properties. I don’t see how these people could call themselves Christians or even more importantly call themselves human for the atrocities they were a part of. The visit to the castles/dungeons was a powerful thing and it left me asking myself a lot of questions. I kept envisioning hundreds of people being herded like cows on to ships walking out of the “door of no return.” I was fortunate to make the symbolic walk back in through that door. But what about those who didn’t? Through out our tours we would find wreathes in different chambers of the dungeons. Our guide explained that these wreathes were left by African Americans, Afro-Caribbean and other people who traced their roots back to Africa. They left the wreathes as a sign of respect and condolence for their ancestors. For the first time it raised a question that I had never asked myself. Did my ancestors make that walk out of the “point of no return?” Growing up I was always intrigued by my Asian background, but I never questioned my Afro-Caribbean family history. My father’s mom after all was an Afro-Caribbean woman. This experience made me want to ask a billion questions about my background. The next day I found an internet café in Osu and I questioned my mom about it over Skype.  My mind was racing. I was thinking about my family history and our ties to Africa. Then my thoughts would shift to asking myself about humanity and how we were capable of doing such evil things such as slavery and pocketing money from an orphanage. Lots of questions. Little answers. My mood changed and I was brought back to earth as I spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with locals we had met the first day in Osu. First Lauren and I visited Miriam, she was a sweet loving young seamstress we met walking the streets of Osu on our way back from the orphanage. I stopped in to look at some of the clothes she was selling. Upon arriving at her kiosk on the side of the road she literally dropped everything she was doing and ran over to Lauren and hugged her. She had the warmest welcoming spirit. I knew from day one I would come back and buy one of her pieces. I bought a beautiful Kente skirt from her. I could’ve tried to bargain with her, but I didn’t. She deserved every cedi. We chatted and said our goodbyes, as I knew I wouldn’t be coming back to the city before leaving Ghana. Just as we were walking away we encountered another local woman we met on day one. Gertrude. Oh Gertrude was a character! Gertrude called us over and asked us what we had learned about her country so far. We sat outside the little shack where we first met her and talked for HOURS. She reprimanded us for not learning more about her country and more about the real issues plaguing her country and her people. She insisted we should’ve visited the courts and other governmental institutions; we should’ve met with a village chief and watched local women making fufu. We had no control over any of those except for the latter. Gertrude grabbed our hands and lead us down an alleyway where she asked a group of women if the fufu for the day was done. They led us to the elder woman of the house who was sweet enough to show us how she pounded and shaped the doughy root paste into fufu. It was one of the coolest experiences we had that day. The conversations got more interesting as the afternoon went on. Gertrude asked us questions about our lives. What was life like on the ship? What were we studying? What was life in the United States like? What religion did we follow? And the most important question of the day, what were marriage traditions like? She was astonished to find out that there were no lists or special requirements in order for a man to marry a woman. In Ghana, as she explained if a man is interested in marrying a woman the family of the men has to have dinner with the woman’s family. The woman is not allowed to be there. In the mean time if the families approve of the relationship, the woman’s family provides the man and his family with a list of things they must provide. This generally consists gold jewelry, 12 pairs of underwear, pots and pans, and in olden days a bottle of an alcoholic beverage made from distilled palm wine called “Akpeteshie.” Lauren and I were equally astonished to find out that they had this list. Taking notes, my future husband will have to abide by this Ghanaian tradition! ;). We continued chatting until the sun went down. We had to start heading back in to Accra for dinner and to try to catch the last shuttle back into the port. We invited Gertrude to have Chinese food with us for dinner and she even accompanied us to do some grocery shopping. She walked us back to Citizen Kofi, a Ghanaian club/lounge that had been lending its facilities to us as our meeting point and shuttle station. They were throwing a going away celebration for SAS that night. We said our goodbyes to Gertrude although she was ready to stay and party. Originally we had no intentions of staying at the celebration but the shuttle never showed and in waiting we met some new friends through some of the SAS staff. Their names were Charles and Jacob, or “Naro” his soccer nickname (Hi guys!!! I know you’re reading this!). They were local guys about our age who had befriended the ship’s photographer earlier in the day. We sat on the 4th floor balcony of this establishment over looking the city of Accra taking it in for the last time. We all got to know each other and Jacob shared with me that he played soccer for a Ghanaian soccer club and is working his way up to playing for the national team! (Go Jacob! You can do it!) He even invited us to come watch a game or practice, but we were leaving the next day. They asked about our experiences in Ghana. We ranted and raved about the amazing people we had met and the hospitality we received. We asked them if the locals hated us yet for all the police escorts and screwing up their traffic. We laughed about it among other things. I shared with the table my experience at the slave castles and dungeons and how powerful it had been for me. I then confessed to them how I questioned my African ancestry for the first time in my life due to the experience. Charles and Jacob both jokingly called me a “disappointed African.” It was a joke and we all laughed, but it really made me think…was I a disappointed African? Had I purposely shied away from those roots? More questions. Less answers. One thing that was for sure though was that everyone at the table agreed we had all enjoyed our time in Ghana so much we wanted to come back. We made a pact to come back within the next couple of years. Not just as tourists but to contribute to this growing country, this beautiful country full of resilient people that welcomed us with enthusiastic waves, the most beautiful smiling faces and sincere hearts. Medase Ghana! We will miss you!