Pros: Volta & the West Coast; Cons: Schoolwork & Illness

Ah, well an update has been in order for quite some time, so unfortunately it will have lacking on the details..

About a month ago, I traveled with Jacob to the Volta region. We survived a hike straight up a mountain through an almost storybook jungle to a second waterfall above the well-visited Wli falls (rock scrambling and straight climbing all the way up). While Jacob and I sweated out our entire body weights and tried to control our legs made of jello, our guide, a young man of about 18 or so, practically ran at top speed in flip flops... Of course the journey was well well worth it. After a fierce tropical storm that night, the next few days took us to:1. an Ewe Kente weaving town called Tafi Aguipe, where almost every child above the age of 7 or 8 begins learning the village and family trade, some becoming master weavers (able to have an apprentice) by the age of 12 or so, 2. the town of Kpandu on Lake Volta where a fisherman gave us an early morning ride out to an island (just to check it out) and where we met and took shots of "Playboy" liquor (at 8 am) with relatives of the chief and got impromtu lessons of fish species from fisherman just returned with a catch. Also in Kpandu, we were befriended by the elderly caretaker of a lodge who the entire town treated as their grandfather - thus gaining some lively conversation and drinking partners, and feeling quickly and unusually at home. By and large, the Volta Region is one of my favorite places in Ghana. It is lush green, mountainous and people don't get too worked up about two random white people strolling through town.

A few weeks later, after some tests and group project work, Jacob, Leeanna and I traveled to the Western coast to spend a few days on the beach at Busua (near Takoradi) and to visit Kakum National Park, Elmina and Cape Coast (a second time for me). The beach at Busua is unusually trash-free and incredibly, unfathomably, overwheliming beautiful. We stayed at a partially constructed "lodge" in the shade of a grove of enormous trees - sleeping on foam pads under a mosquito net on a bamboo platform just a few feet from the water at high tide. That is, until a storm hit - catching Leeanna and I in the nearby village of Butre and Jacob contemplating whether to cross a raging river of sewage being swept out to sea in order to attend a also raging Easter Monday beach party. Also in Busua: an Easter street parade with brass instruments and hordes of children and three crazy dancing Oburonis, packs of surfers both foreign and Ghanaian, night swimming under a full moon, and an acute attack of food poisoning for me (that later turned out to likely be malaria) dealt with under full camping conditions (no toilet). The day after we returned, Jacob flew out to continue his journey to Ethiopia, Holland, Serbia and the Balkans... while I lay curled in fetal position on my bed, was treated for malaria after a Thursday night hospital visit, and gave a mediocre (to say the least) performance for a dance final on Sunday.

So here I am, three weeks from my departure date, feeling much much better and embarking the most challenging and onerous task so far - staying on campus to study for exams and actually do some school work. Love to all and I hope to add more to this entry as I remember good stories...

Photos Part 1 of 100 million that will never load

Click on the photo and it will take you to Photobucket, where you can access a photo album and where I will - over time - try to post many of my photos.

Burkina Faso and Ada-Foah

So it has been quite a while since I have written my blog - made evident to me by some fairly persistent nagging from the home camp. This is because numerous events have transpired in quick sequence and also because I am lazy. At the end of February I traveled with a group of 30-some students from the Performing Arts Department of UG to Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso. This bus ride was eased - on the way up at least - by air conditioning and excitement, despite a departure from campus at 3 am and an arrival at 12 noon the next day in Ouaga. We spent a night at the border- more technically between the borders - as we were able to leave Ghana (after two separate people on either side were woken up at their homes and summoned to come unlock a single gate with two padlocks) but we had to wait for the Burkina border to open at 8 am the next morning. Many of the group simply awake all night, bullshitting with the help of some type of local herb liquor. Others, exhibiting a Ghanaian skill that never ceases to amaze me, were able to fall asleep in incredibly awkward positions on the plastic-covered humid bus seats. Blake, one of we three Oburoni's, was somehow able to join those on the bus. Leeana (my roomate and partner in crime - don't worry Dad, this is still a figure of speech) and I improvised and copied some of the nearby truck drivers. We dragged 2 wooden palates over to the front of the bus - to the amusement of our Ghanaian peers - laid out my towel to prevent splinters and/or tetnus, and feel asleep to the sounds of rumaging goats and a nearby bar blasting music. I could give other humorous anecdotes about the border - including cockroaches, improvised plastic bag toilets, hustlers and money changers, and endless word of mouth plan changes - but needless to say I have never slept in a stranger, more surreal place than goat/trash no-mans-land between two West African countries.

Moving on... the reason for our great journey to Ouaga was to attend FESPACO, the pan-African film festival heralded as Africa's version of the Cannes or Sundance festivals. The trip quickly became something very different from what we had all anticipated, as despite the spectacular opening ceremony, the festival organization itself was so poor that the films themselves took the backseat (at least in my mind) to other activities such as swimming in a nearby hotel's pool, eating more meat than even my father would think healthy in a single week (mostly spiced goat meat), and putting on a multi-dance performance hosted by the Ghanaian embassy for Ghana's independence day. Soon after arriving, the embassy requested that the UG group put on a show at the end of the week for an audience full of African and worldwide dignitaries at a 5-star hotel. Rehearsals were held every night and I was able to participate in two of the easier dances which I had learned in dance class. I cannot say that my performance that night was spectacular, but the experience of rehearsing (aka goofing around with the Ghanaian students) made my trip incredibly worthwhile. And, as the analogy agreed upon by Ghanaians and the 3 Oburonis alike: Oburonis are to dancing as Obibinis are to swimming. Once in a while an exception emerges, but I have been humbled enough to know that I am not that exception. The strength of the language barrier was another element that was unanticipated by all on the trip - though I don't know why more of the Ghanaian students didn't know French seeing as its surrounded by Francophone countries - and it led to creating a more insulated, cohesive group. The trip also gave me my first experience rooming with a Ghanaian - a wonderful, lively, quirky, beautiful and intensely nurturing woman named Naa or Glaydis. Our room became a hub of activity, usually centered around feeding her closest male friends from a costco-sized plastic bag full of homemade banku, as well as becoming the place to borrow and exchange such useful items as washing buckets, cocoa butter (like lotion), and rice cookers. We were gifted with incessant loud reminders and door knockings that carried little validity such as "the bus is leaving in five minutes," "get up get up (5:30 am)" or "Please, who left their biscuits in the bathroom? that is not acceptable." Sometimes, my oburoni self felt like I was experiencing an invasion - as I have never before experienced such a prolonged lack of privacy - but I got into the flow of things after a while and appreciated what I was experiencing: a Ghanaian family. I knew that adjustment was well underway when I became "the breakfast maker" - preparing the men's milo (chocolate "energy" drink) and corn flakes before they were even requested.

Ouagadougou itself has striking differences from Accra. Motor bikes and regular bikes are absolutely everywhere- with the largest roads even having specially demarcated lanes. Though this appeared a sustainability-minded liberal American girl's dream at first, it is a result of Burkina's extreme poverty relative to Ghana, and particularly Accra (where cars including BMWs and Jaguars choke every major road). In fact, relative poverty was evident in a general scarcity of material goods, business activity and food stands as compared to Ghana. The disparity between regular Burkinabes and the festival-goers was intense with foreign film crews, directors, judges, and critics staying nice hotels and a special market for FESPACO monitored and guarded. Also, as white women, neither Blake, Leeana nor I had any problems getting into films - even when I didn't have a pass on me. The rest of the UG students were consistently hassled, being assumed to be Burkinabes trying to sneak into films (despite not speaking French and speaking in Twi and English) and some were even turned away because they had only one form of FESPACO identification. They had to strategize and go in groups so that they could pass off the limited festival passes white we three oburonis were able to go wherever we liked. The environment in Burkina was DRRYY, causing chapstick and cocoa butter to become hot hostel commodities. The sun during the day was like a microwave on bare skin, while nights were cool and incredibly beautiful except for constant mosquitos. Also in Burkina, the 3 oburonis made friends with a 4th: Jacob, a Philidelphia native, recent grad from Temple University who, after studying abroad in Senegal and applying for a Fullbright is traveling in Africa from Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Ghana, then Ethiopia.

We left Burkina early Sunday the 8th, and my birthday was celebrated with good friends, sweaty plastic seats, and a suprise elephant spotting along the side of the road in Northern Ghana. Luckily, I was not subjected to the normal birthday treatment of "ponding," in which a bucket(s) of water is thrown at your back as hard as possible. Ponding serves as a useful catch-all hazing technique, employed for birthdays, initiations in men's halls, thieves (along with beatings), varying in degrees of intensity dependent upon the occasion. Luckily, its not cool to physically hurt females on their birthdays, not at 8 am before a 20 hour bus ride. Thank the Lord.

So, onward to the following weekend, after a week of mentally if not actually playing catch-up with work that I hadn't really gotten behind on. Leeana and I decided to go with Forest (yes, Carter) and Rosie, his girlfriend, to a beach area at the mouth of the Volta River (only about 2 hours from Accra) for a relaxing weekend of swimming, "homework," and hammocks. When Jacob, who had just crossed the Ghana border, heard of our plan, he high-tailed it down to meet us. The weekend was a beautiful alternate universe, complete with actual palm frond huts, a lazy and gracious fishing village, night bonfires lit by the 2 women who run the almost deserted "resort", a furious ocean on one side and a freshwater estuary on the other. Nights were warm and windy with numerous small storms rolling through and intermitant bright starts and beautiful non-city black sky. The people at Ada-Foah are the type of Ghanaians that tour books and tourist promotional videos generalize about, incredibly warm and laid-back. Leeana, Jacob and I spent an entire afternoon hanging out with children, mothers, and men fixing fishing nets- after eating a meal of waakye (waa-che) and fresh fish. Jacob claimed the two of us to be his wives whenever we were propositioned, but this plan backfired when a leading male figure in town derided him on his unwillingness to share, specifically requesting me to be given to him as a gift. Before anyone reading this is confused, almost all interactions with unknown Ghanaians are humorous and joking and the best way to diffuse askward cross-cultural interactions is to joke about one another's or one's own culture. However, I know that Jacob likely has outstanding school loans and had Emmanuel Kofi Opong offered a monetary sum, I might still be in Ada-Foah - learning Ewe very quickly.

An Asante funeral and a beautiful family

This past weekend I attended the funeral of my friend Kwaku's grandmother in a little village outside of Kumasi. Now, a few weeks ago when he invited me, saying that it would be an interesting experience for me, I was of course shocked and a little uncomfortable. I was horrified at the thought of being a tourist at someone's funeral. However... I soon found out that funerals in Ghana are more like weddings here - with dancing, drinking, and members of huge extended family's showing up that you only slightly recognize. So I spent this last Saturday and Sunday as the only obruni in an entire village, being herded and coddled by 20 some "aunties" - the term for all older female relatives. Very few members of the 200 - 300 people that I greeted, often numerous times, spoke English. Thus I was reduced to repeating the few simple Twi phrases I know over and over: "Medase paaaa" - thank you very much; "Ete sen? Bokooo" - How are you? Coooolll" and numerous others that made children, aunties and uncles alike laugh at me and wring my hand until it felt like it would fall off. On Saturday the wake, procession, the ceremony held in a Catholic church, and the burial was held. This was followed by a day of sitting, greeting, dancing, discreetly drinking in a building around the corner, people watching, and making donations to the family of the deceased which were then announced via microphone by one particular extroverted, eccentric and slightly tipsy auntie. When various groups of people, usually one or another branch of the extended family would walk in, they would proceed in a row from righ to left shaking hands with everyone sitting in the front row of chairs. At one point, Kwaku leaned over and whispered, "this is why you must wash your hands when you get home." On Saturday, all were dressed in black or red funeral cloth embossed with varying Asante symbols ("Adinkra") worn long (except for me who didn't get the message and had a shorter dress made, which the eccentric auntie informed me was too short). On Sunday, the attire was black and white print cloth, indicating a more celebratory mood to recognize that the deceased was 90 years old and had lived a long and prosperous life. For me the weekend was a crash-course in Ghanaian extended family, though even Kwaku was railed by numerous unidentified relatives for not remembering their names from when he was 4-years-old. I was almost glad to be a foreigner and thus expected to be clueless... I was treated like a queen all weekend, with Kwaku's sister and female cousins (also called "sisters") attending to my every need, whether I was aware of the particular need or not. At first it was overwhelming and my thank-yous were excessive but as the weekend wore on, I started becoming accustomed to the star treatment. Whether this is a good thing or not I haven't decided yet. The entire event, as well as the stay with Kwaku's family in Kumasi inside a traditional Ghanaian house (I will talk about this more later) was likely the most educational and wonderful experience of Ghanaian life I have had so far... To whatever extent it is true, I now feel that I can understand a little more about Ghanaians that I meet - actually having physically experienced the scope of an extended family, a household and gender roles.... I am so grateful to Kwaku, his sister Kyewa/Monica, his childhood friends, his wonderful parents, aunties (particularly crazy auntie Regina whom began each day with a guiness), and the entirety of his extended family even if he cannot remember who they all are. I'm just throwing this thank you out to the world, as I have likely drowned Kwaku and co. with them already.

To all those who want to see some of my photos, I'm sorry, but you'll just have to be patient- as patient as we are all being with dial-up speed internet that crashes unexpectedly. The only place with fast enough internet to download photos is at the Accra Mall - which is a story in itself. Thus, when I have the strength of will to go back to the mall, my photos will be up. For now though, ya'll will have to be content with imagining. Sometimes its better- like when you first graduate to chapter books. When imagining, please make sure to add more dust, more men in nicely pressed slacks and ties, and more burning piles of trash in the least expected places than you would have otherwise imagined on a university campus. When I do put up photos, I'll also put up some of the surrounding areas, as well as photos from the bus ride to Kumasi, Cape Coast and of course... the legendary canopy walk. For now I'll say that I now feel settled, like I have a sense of place and habit. There is a market right across the road from the International Students Hostel that provides most of my meals. Women, as in most markets in Ghana, run the show and most of the food vendors are women, many with children playing with each other around or behind the market. I believe that most of the people who run the market also live there, either sleeping in their stalls or in a camp right behind it. The contrast between their sleeping arrangements and the ISH students, with our large, 2-person rooms, constant running water and ceiling fans (as opposed to other halls on campus...), is unnerving and uncomfortable whenever I remember it. This same dichotomy exists in a larger scale everywhere in Accra, particularly along the tro-tro ride back to Legon (campus) from downtown Accra, where one passes mansions surrounded by razor-wire rimmed walls with camps of people in shacks built up in the bushes across the street. Many of the roads that the tro-tros take are bumpy dirt road shortcuts to avoid the horrendous traffic along the Legon/Media road out of the city. This takes the tro-tros right by many such camps, and when on one of these routes, it feels as if the city is very far away though it is not. This is the biggest difference I've noticed in the asthetics of a US urban area vs. Accra: the process of city/infrastructure building is very noticeable. Huge piles of sediment and/or gravel line the sides of roads or rise up in the middle of an empty field. There are usually groups of little kids climbing all over them, with construction work often stagnant beside. All over the region (as well as Kumasi) are half-built skeletons of apartment buildings - often with camps for families self-constructed inside. Roads are also often half-build, such as the road to Kumasi, which changes in placs from a genuine freeway to a trecherously bumpy 2 lane dirt road. This is not to say that the environment is not extremely beautiful and tropical looking- with banana trees lining the roads and the colors of deep green and bright red dirt overpowering everything else. Photos will definitely help this description. I'll call it a day for now, but next time I'll talk more about people. On to lunch - and the decision between rice and beans or soup and banku. Always the hardest decision of the day. Love to all.

So I've now moved beyond the first week in Ghana - and I am definitely a little less awkward. Mind you, a LITTLE. On manners: To get anyone to help you and to avoid being rude, you must greet and make small talk with nearly everyone. It is wonderful, though I'm finding that I have to re-train myself in the art of being chatty and incessantly cheery. The moment I found myself chastising another white person for not saying Hi to me (from another school's group, who likely DID NOT go through the orientation), I knew the Ghanaian manners were beginning to sink in. I also need to work on addressing older people as madam and sir- as I feel I have dug myself into a bureaucratic hole a few times already for this lack of respect.

I've now moved in to my permanent room, in the International Students Hostel on the outskirts of campus - about a 20 minute walk from the center of campus. I wanted to be placed in Volta Hall- one of the main women's halls near the center of campus - but there were only 4 spots available and I lost twice in a lottery for a room. So I am now living in a hall which will fill up with students from the US, Europe, Australia and almost all other African nations- particularly Nigeria I am told. There is a market that will be open mostly at night right across the road and a beautiful view of fields and trees, a red/pink sunset, and a primary school (children in blue and white uniforms playing and yelling woke my roommate Leanna and I up this morning). I'm pretty damn happy with the situation.

This weekend, the orientation group took a trip to Kumasi, in the central region. It was full of planned group activities, and a lot of hot-bus sitting. The student volunteers leading the excursion and most of the orientation include- Kodjo/Stephen (dresses like saturday night fever), Irene (the "siren" as the male volunteers say), Grace (the sweet and quiet leader), Kofi (history student tour guide with the humor and attention-needs of a 12 year old). On the way back to Kumasi, the bus stopped at a gas station opposite of a street dance party and half of the bus got off to join. After about 10-15 minute furious dancing surrounded by Ghanaian women cheering on my awkward gyrations, we hopped back on the bus and back into Accra traffic. I must now go, or I will be forcibly signed off the internet, but love to all. And thanks for the comments. This blog thing is pretty fun.

First Week: sticky air, birds, beer, and politics

Hi all -

This is my first post to what I hope will be a moderately interesting blog.... I arrived in Accra, Ghana on Sunday midday with a group of UC students- most of us from Berkeley and Santa Cruz. We spent Saturday night in Dubai - though we were all too exhausted to spend any of our previous horizontal sleeping time exploring - despite the excitement of such an over-the-top city. This city has "shopping festivals" and on their promotional video playing constantly on the Emirates flight, we were informed that it is a "luxurious" and "mysterious" land of falconry and designer jewlery. The international terminal was just as pretentious as the tourist videos so we mostly decided that it was a place to enjoy a postcard from, rather than a good spot for 20 something college American students. On to Accra... The air feels like Washington DC in the summertime, most of the time- though today is relatively drier. This means that I don't feel like my clothes are plastered to me, and my little white face is not beat red and shiny with sweat for once. However, I think I'm also becoming acclimated after only a few days. The campus of the University of Ghana is HUGE- and extremely spread out, with some paved, some dirt roads and dirt paths criss-crossing fields in-between residence halls and buildings. The trees are beautiful and filled with giant, white throated birds. Leanne, a student from Davis, and I plan on walking around campus with a botany and bird book- perhaps with adventurers hats and explorer khaki shorts, while the beautifully dressed Ghanaian students roll their eyes and get back to business. All the Americans feel under-dressed, or at least in awe of how good Ghanaians look most of the time. Last night, I had a tasting session of Ghanaian beers - Star, Stone, Gulder, Club (though funny, no one ordered the Guiness) with a large group of the exchange students and some of the dance and drum instructors from our introductory dance/music class. Though I sometimes feel extremely awkward, my favorite orientation activity so far has been the dance class. The instructors are good-humored, accepting and impressive beyond belief. I definitely plan on taking a traditional Ghanaian dance class- and drowning in sweat at least twice a week. In other, more important news, the new President of Ghana, John Atta-Mills, was sworn in today but unfortunately we were unable to attend the inauguration though yesterday we visited the location where it was held. Ghana now has its first female speaker of Parliament as well as Chief Justice. Mills ran as a social democrat, jumping on the Obama "Change" bandwagon. However, one of our lecturers claimed that he has not shown significant tendencies in the past towards this stance. It should be interesting to see where this, as well as our own administration converge and diverge. I am now running out of internet time, but will post again soon, hopefully with photos. Love to all from the University of Ghana, Legon, Accra.