Journal Entry 50: A Moment to Reminisce...

I've created this video in an attempt to recapture my experience in Ghana for the past seventeen weeks. Unfortunately, I didn't have all of the pictures and videos I wanted to include in time to post this, but I think it is nice as it is. While I realize that no video could ever suffice or compare to all I have seen and learned, through it I seek to hold onto a mixture of memories, emotions, and experiences that would rightfully never be forgotten, but would otherwise remain mental. Enjoy…

Journal Entry 49: Until Next Time

I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me to leave Ghana until I actually arrived in the U.S. The entire semester I craved for soul food, hot showers and good customer service but when I actually arrived, everything suddenly felt so foreign, so unreal. My life of walking amongst stray dogs and goats on dirt roads, buying items off of the street within the comfort of my car, and taking cold showers had become so normal for me. It wasn’t until I stepped foot on American soil that I realized I had changed, and that I might run into people who don’t quite understand me. It’s as if I was a lot happier in Ghana, even though the U.S. provided me with so many luxuries. I already realize that this will not be my last visit to Ghana. I think I left a piece of myself in Ghana, a piece that I may have to find every now and then when I’m lost. Until next time Ghana, I'll keep you in my heart, with hopes that you will do the same.

Journal Entry 48: Beauty is Skin Deep

I can’t believe I neglected to bring notice to something I found to be very disturbing while in Ghana (although it’s better late than never). Every now and then I’ll catch a billboard ad or a commercial that advertises some product that helps to lighten the skin. I recall sitting in a hair shop and hearing a commercial for Carotone. “For younger, brighter” skin the commercial advertised, flaunting its happier, brighter women. Although it saddens me to see that these products are being encouraged and are easily accessible in shops, I can’t say that the black community in the U.S. is doing much better. Instead of creating a more European look for our naturally darker skin, we’ve directed more of our focus on changing our natural African hair. Every time I see an ad for a product like this, I think of all the times in Ghana when I was told that I had a pretty skin color, or was asked to switch my color with someone of a darker complexion.

One time I ordered food and sat down at a table to wait for it. The other seats were taken so I chose to sit down in the only chair I saw available. It just so happens that the chair I sat on was directly under the hot sun. The woman who was about to prepare my food said to me, “Why are you sitting under the hot sun?”. “Because I want to be as dark as you” I responded. She laughed hysterically. “Oh but I like your skin color”. “But your skin is so beautiful” I said. She insisted that I switch my complexion with hers, then laughed and walked away, wearing a confused expression on her face. It scared me that she didn’t trust my admiration, but it scares me even more that there are products that can turn these forms of mental self-destruction into a permanent reality.

Journal Entry 47: A Happy Thanksgiving

This was the first Thanksgiving I had away from home, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. My exchange program invited us to celebrate Thanksgiving together at a home that belonged to one of the host parents. It was a beautiful house, and I couldn’t believe that two of my fellow exchange students were actually living there (or actually living on their own in the guest house next door).

As I anticipated, many of the exchange students (myself included) wore their Ghanaian attire to celebrate the American holiday. Because we would be leaving Ghana shortly, people had already begun to reminisce over their experiences in Ghana, which caused us to be even more patriotic as our favorite Ghanaian songs floated from the DJ’s speakers. I was very pleased to eat turkey for the first time in a long time, and appreciated the huge effort made to make us feel at home. As usual, we ended up dancing—dancing harder than we ever have before (as we have experienced so much and realized that it could be our last time dancing together).

This is the Thanksgiving that truly made me realize that I have so much to be thankful for.

Journal Entry 46: A Beautiful Reservoir and Greedy Baboons

I went with my exchange program on a trip to see the largest man-made reservoir in the world, Lake Volta. The guide explained to us that it is used to generate about 65% of Ghana's electricity (if I remember correctly) and also used for export to Togo and Benin. It's formed by the Akosombo Dam and was constructed from 1961-1965 by geologist Albert Ernest Kitson. But aside from all of the boring facts--it's just a gorgeous place to see! The tour guide teased us by saying we couldn't take any pictures, but gave us a few minutes at the end of the tour to do so. Above are a couple I was fortunate enough to capture.

A couple of young ones finally got food

The baboon jumps on our van to say hello

We also took a trip to a game reserve where we got close and personal with greedy baboons. It was interesting to watch them interact, but even more interesting that they were bold enough to approach us. As soon as we stepped foot out of our vehicles, they came swarming towards us. One older baboon kept stealing a baby baboon's food and a couple of baboons even snatched food out of a few of my friend's hands! When I started walking with my plantain chips I knew I was the next target, so I just threw the bag and watched a bunch of them run off to fight for it. Aside from the greedy food, some of my peers also caught two baboons mating, which you have to admit would be quite entertaining to see. If we hadn't seen enough, another (fortunately smaller) baboon jumped on our van as we were leaving, I guess in search of more food. I enjoyed having fun with them, but when it comes to food they are a little too aggressive for my taste!

Journal Entry 45: Tyranny of the Majority

I am no longer surprised by anything that happens at the university. The lecturer for one of my classes has missed many lectures and told us to come early one day to make up for one that we lost. She said we would meet at 9:30 am at a lecture hall that is pretty far from our dorms, and then we would meet again at our regular time at 11:30 am in the other lecture hall the same day. When I walked in the room, one of my international friends said to me, “She’s at the bank” with a “you-already-know” face.  We sat there waiting for her for over an hour and just as we were about to leave, the teacher’s assistant informs us that she’s coming. She arrived at about 10:40 and told us we would do some quick dictation and move to the next location. Students from the next class were in the back of the lecture hall waiting, and she made sure to take the time out to address them and tell them to please wait outside until we’re done.  Midway through the notes, she informs us that we will be having another double-class time next week to make up for the time we lost (because she couldn’t make it—for whatever reason).  A few international students raised their hands, “but that is our revision week. We are supposed to study for exams” a girl said. (Because of the strike, the international students have their exams separately so they can leave on schedule). The lecturer responded, “Oh, well you can come or not come. If all your other classes are canceled, it should be okay for you to come. I was not informed of this. Your exams start the 4^th. Talk to me after class“. 

She continued to do dictation when more and more students from the next 11:30 class started to pour in. “Please, you are disturbing our lecture, please come later” she said. By 11:15, a huge swarm of students flooded through the lecture hall and decided to kick us out. “Tyranny of the majority!”, the lecturer said. The 300 of them came in and started taking seats asking people, “are you leaving now?”. The lecturer continued to yell to them through the mic, but she was barely heard.

We made our way to the other hall and waited for her for the next class period. When she finally arrived (later than all of us even though she has a car), she spent a few minutes lecturing us about what just happened, and then went on to do a little dictation, describing reading we should have already done. “The table in the reading is set up like this”, “Dahlerup says this”.

After class, I along with a small group of international students went up to her to ask her about exams, but she claimed it wasn’t the appropriate time and that she had to run to the department. She said she couldn't really tell us anything but that she would meet with us during the week, if we called to remind her. As I headed downstairs a few minutes later I saw her talking to another group of Ghanaian students, laughing and smiling. I looked at my international friend and said, “Wow—she must really be in a rush”.

Journal Entry 44: Who are you anyway?

A short time ago I overheard a group of my friends having a conversation about race and couldn’t help but catch a few ideas that stood out to me. When I entered the conversation (out of my nosy habits), a white American girl was directing her argument to comments made by a black American girl earlier. “You say you’ve been through all of this stuff and you’ve seen so much and then you turn around and say you’re privileged. Who are you?” she said, in a tone that obviously offended the black American girl.

Further into the conversation, a Nigerian girl, who claims to be a global citizen (as she has lived in many places and doesn’t have a Nigerian accent) made claims about distinctions between African-Americans and Africans, and why Africans do better when settling in the U.S (or other Western countries). Her argument was that African-Americans are constantly trying to find out who they are which is why they come to places like Ghana. They are constantly in search of themselves and struggle with their identity, which causes them more racial issues (unlike Africans). When I addressed her, I immediately noticed her referral of “you people”. She looked at me and said “You people struggle with your identity but I’m already in Africa so I don’t have to search for my culture—it is already here”. I had a hard time fully taking in what she was saying, considering the identity issues I've noticed while in Ghana. “I agree that there are issues of identity in the African-American community, but I don’t think it’s fair to say that Africans don’t struggle with their identity as well”. When I brought up how so many Ghanaians seem to be influenced by African-American culture (as their own culture is gradually dismissed), she claimed that it was just “adapting” and made references to the “African mentality”. It’s still a little difficult for to me to absorb the idea that a country where people openly express internalized racism doesn’t struggle with its identity. Of course, it’s ten times worse when everyone thinks everything is okay. Nonetheless, I’m always happy to have these discussions, even when a little tension is involved.