I recently had a conversation with a few of my European and white American friends about their experiences in Ghana. One said, "Being here has made me more of a racist. I'm getting a little defensive". They expressed that they are constantly being reminded that they are different and that it causes them to feel a little bitter. They're tired of people overpricing them because they are "obronis" and don't like being mistreated. This was absolutely fascinating to me, because it is almost as if they were having a little taste of the resentment many people of color feel in the Western world. "That is a similar feeling for African-Americans" I said. My white American friend said, "What do you mean?". I continued, "When you experience racism enough, it's so easy to feel resentment and anger towards an entire group of people, and it becomes more and more difficult to think of people as individuals instead of generalizing entire groups". They nodded their heads. "But there are still a lot of nice people here too--it isn't everyone" they started to say. No--it never is, but it only takes so much ripeness to make any type of fruit bitter.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Journal Entry 36: Whoa
There is a rap song that I like entitled “Whoa” where the artist lists a bunch of things that makes him say “Whoa”—I figured I’d do the same for the things in Ghana that make me say “Whoa”.
Dogs fighting: Every night at the same time the dogs would start fighting with each other and barking loudly. It is a horrifying sound. They will start screaming, howling as if they were in pain and dying. One night, all the dogs were howling at the same time, howling and howling. Very, very scary.
Toilets as holes in the ground: There have been a few times (including at villages and restaurants) where I or my friends have gone to use the bathroom to find a small dark room with a little whole in the ground. One time when I went to Labadi Beach, I wanted to use the bathroom (and it was night time) and it was just a little wooden wall with a whole in the ground behind it, covered by grass (and because it’s dark, it’s very hard to see what you’re aiming for or stepping on). I decided to wait until I got home…
Drains in the ground: There are many random gutters in the ground that people can easily fall into/get stuck in. One of my friends almost fell in one…not fun!
Interesting Customer Service: In the U.S., the customer gets priority. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been my experience in Ghana. People could care less about whether or not you’re happy with the service and tend to be a little on the stingy side with their money. To make things even more difficult, it’s hard to demand better service because unlike the U.S where you can say “let me see your boss” and get a quick response, there doesn’t seem to be a way to hold people accountable here, providing them with no incentive to provide better customer service.
Peeing: Men openly peeing on the side of a main road as the cars just fly by.
Crazy drivers: The cars here will hit you if you let them—they go so fast and get SO close to you that you constantly have to look behind if you’re walking beside the sidewalk for whatever reason.
Line cutting: People randomly cutting lines (and not caring if you notice)
Street Vendors: People shoving stuff they want to sell in your face
Overcharging: People overcharging obronis and thinking it's okay
Pushing: People bumping into you/stepping on your feet and not caring
Goats, chickens, and lizards: My wonderful animal friends just walking around and living freely.
Breastfeeding: This may not necessarily be a Ghanaian thing (because sometimes you just don’t notice things when you’re home), but I noticed women tend to breastfeed in public places often here.
Billboards: The most interesting ones say things like "Repent, Jesus is coming soon" and "Retards Development" (of course the Abstinence Ads are always interesting as well)
Surprising Questions: Ghanaian’s asking me what part of Africa I’m from, and looking at me like I'm crazy when I say “I don’t know”.
Instability: Things can always change last minute, and there’s nothing you can do about it--you just have to go with the flow
Giving Directions: People don't seem to be very good at giving directions, so they'll often times just tell you to follow them to your location, or will point in an unclear direction and walk away.
Journal Entry 35: Secrets of Financial Empowerment
My friend handed me a piece of paper and said, “Here, write down what you want God to do for you”. The most interesting part of the service was when everyone started praying, and loudly. Although the majority of it was done in the local language, I recognized that it was pretty much just like a stereotypical Black Baptist church, only a little turned up. They were shouting loudly, dancing a little, and moving their bodies in a way they probably wouldn't in a non-religious setting. As we were leaving, my other Ghanaian friend said to me, "God is going to answer everything you put on your list". We'll see...
Journal Entry 34: Shopping in Chaos and Making Kente Cloth
One weekend my exchange program took a trip to Kumasi, a place well known for making Ghana’s popular kente cloth. We first stopped at the Central Market to shop and it was not the most fun experience for me. It’s the most chaotic market I’ve been to in Ghana thus far. People were pushing me left and right, people with shops were shouting at me “Ayy Americana!!” or “Hey! My sister!” and the strong stenches of pee and fish that filled the air didn’t make the experience any more pleasant. I had to be sure to look at the ground and my surroundings simultaneously as I was walking, because the ground was not clean at all and if I didn’t look around me, I could easily be knocked over (especially by someone carrying something very large on their head—as is often done in Ghana). I made sure to stay close to my friends, holding their hands tightly and stepping over little kids and dead chickens. It was definitely a once, and only once in a lifetime experience.
We also went to a kente weaving village where we were taught how to make kente cloth. I was fortunate enough to be one of the volunteers chosen to demonstrate how to break up the wood that would be used. After, we were able to choose fabric and stamp our own symbols on it. We were taught that all of the symbols have a meaning and I wanted to make sure I got something good. The two symbols I stamped on my cloth were “Going back to your roots” and “All-powerful”. A couple of guys in the village agreed to help me and give me a gift, and a couple of kids also said they had a gift for me as well. Based on my past experiences (from my "Ghana Gone Gangsta" blog entry), I knew that couldn't be a good thing, and of course I was right when I saw how they responded to my refusal to accept their "gifts". They surrounded me and my friends as we tried to pile onto the van, almost shoving their items in our faces screaming "My friend, my friend!", "I'll reduce the price!", and "Come, look!".
Lastly, we went to a little shop that sells a lot of the traditional African print and learned about the different types of kente cloth. I paid a good piece of change on my three pieces, but it was well worth it! But I must admit, shopping isn't my favorite thing to do, especially not in Ghana!
Journal Entry 33: V.I.P.: "My Baby"
I participated for two days of the filming. It was fun getting dressed up and putting on make up, but of course the long time that is involved just waiting isn't always fun. It was also very interesting to me that they wanted us to wear all white, even though they didn't tell us that ahead of time and therefore tried to get people to wear each other's clothing. Nonetheless I had a good time and didn't do anything I'd regret. The song is called "My Baby" and the video should be released soon, so look out for the light-skinned Ghanaian with the cheesy smile!
Journal Entry 32: The Seamstress of St. Francis Street
Earlier this month I was asked to sing in a theater production on campus entitled "The Seamstress of St. Francis Street" (based off of the film). It is an African-American production that takes place in Missouri in the 1950s, so I was very excited to see how it would be performed in Ghana. I had the opportunity to learn a little about how Ghanaians perceive African-Americans as they played some stereotypical roles and acted out a little finger-snapping and head shaking every now and then.
The production took place from Thursday to Sunday for two weeks and there were even two guest artists from the States who served as alternates. One was Andrea Purnell from Missouri who actually plays the main character in the film, and the other was Professor James Fay from New York who also played a big role for a few nights. I was actually quite impressed by how well the Ghanaian actors picked up on various cultural markers and societal challenges of that time. There are different scenes and attitudes in the play that would be difficult to translate to the audience without some general understanding of the experiences of the characters.
More importantly, I gained friends from this experience that I will stay connected to for a lifetime. For a while I forgot how good it feels to be surrounded by artistic people with outgoing personalities. I have met some of the most generous people in these few weeks alone, and I can't wait to come back to the States and show off their work.
Journal Entry 31: STRIKE!!
I woke up one Monday to discover that there were no more University classes running because the teachers were on strike. Apparently, they haven’t been paid in months, regardless of the University’s promise to pay them by a certain deadline. This is pretty fascinating for me because I’ve never experienced a school strike. Some professors agreed to teach only international students so that we could still get credit. At first this kind of annoyed me because I saw it as the privileged kids always getting their way, until I found out that we (international students) actually pay a lot more in tuition than Ghanaian students because their tuition is covered by the government (and of course we have a contract that cannot be extended). The strike lasted for three weeks in total, but caused even more chaos. The international students for the most part will be learning the same material that they learned during the strike, and no one is really sure what to expect for the exams. The schedules are now all scrambled, and it turns out that the Ghanaian students will have to stay in school until January 6th, only getting Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. To make things even worse, the teachers didn't even achieve their mission of getting paid. It's pretty fair to say that I've been on vacation thus far, but in some ways, a very hectic one!
Journal Entry 30: Daycare Center Day 2
My second day at the daycare center was just as interesting as the first. When I entered the room, the kids were practicing their shapes. The students came up one by one, grabbing the pointing stick to identify the shapes on the board. One boy came up and stood at the board with his head bowed down, fumbling with his pointing stick. “Hurry up, you’re taking too long” the teacher said as he remained still.
At some points the kids would talk amongst themselves, bored of having nothing to do. A couple of kids were speaking the local language and the teacher yelled at them, “Speak English, not vernacular. If you can’t speak English, just sit quietly.”
When it was time for them to go out and play, the teacher came up to me and handed me a book. “You will read this to them for storytelling time”, she said. She walked away as I glanced through “Lost in Piper’s Park”. I looked at the pictures and then analyzed the story, wondering how a bunch of Ghanaian kids are supposed to relate to it. I put the book down and caught one little girl staring at me so I gave a big grin and waved as she giggled. Another kid ran from one door to the other playing peek-a-boo with me and waving, and soon a couple of others caught on. Before I knew it, almost all of the kids were running back and forth from door to door, giggling and waving at me. They all crowded up to the window next to me and starting waving and chanting “Obroni! Obroni! Obroni!” (Obroni can mean foreigner, westerner or white person). It’s amazing to me that they learned at such a young age to identify me as an “obroni”. They ran back in the classroom to learn and smiled at “obroni”, so happy that she waved at them.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Journal Entry 29: Teaching is Hard Work, But Oh So Powerful!
This week I started volunteering at a daycare center on the university’s campus. One of the teachers led me into a small little room of kids, sitting in their desks staring at me. They’re just as energetic as any other toddlers, but a lot more well behaved than I expected. She then led me to a small open space across from that room where a woman stood around ten four and five-year-olds, writing numbers “1-5” on a small chalkboard. A small little girl walked into the little enclosure and the teacher said to me, “She’s new. You can help her get up to speed. She probably won’t be able to write up to five just yet, so start slow and keep repeating”. I nodded and took a seat next to the little cheesy girl. “You ready?” I said to her with a smile. “Do you know 'one'?” I said. She drew a one on her small piece of recycled paper. “Good!” I said, as she smiled at me in satisfaction. “What about two? Can you draw me a two?”. She looked up at me as if she was pretending to know what I was saying and then looked down at her paper and scribbled. “Hmm…let’s try it together” I said. I took her hand and we traced out the two together. We spent almost an hour trying to draw “two”, but I wasn’t about to give up. She would get distracted every now and then and try to play with my bracelet, or look at the other kids when they were rowdy. “You can do it, come on”. I said. She finally drew some type of two, but it was facing my direction, not hers (even though I had been drawing the two in her direction). “Very good!” I said in excitement, clapping my hands a little. She gave me a big grin. I was happy I got her to at least draw the right shape. I pointed to the numbers and said “what is this?”, making sure she could identify her “1”s and “2”s. At first, she only knew “1” and kept calling “2”, “6”. This is when I discovered the psychological aspect of teaching; I was struggling to figure out her thought process. I had to figure out a way to get into her head and figure out how she was thinking, so that she could draw this two. She didn’t get it that day, but I'm determined to get it down for next time.
On this day I also discovered the power teachers have over their students, particularly at such a young, vulnerable age, where kids are like sponges just soaking everything in. When it was time for me to switch classes, I left the four year olds and went over to the three year olds who were doing their “abc’s”. The first thing I noticed is that because the students didn’t have their own papers, they each came up one by one to draw an “a” on the board, as the others just sat and watched. The teacher had me come up and help them draw the “a”. I immediately noticed that the one boy that came up seemed to get it a lot faster than any of the other girls that came up, and that the teacher even let him go up to “d”.
After their letters, the teacher looked at me and said “It’s song/poem time”. I sat in a chair and observed the songs. I must admit that I found the songs fascinating, and I’m sure you will too. Here are little snippets of a few I picked up on:
“Read the Bible, Pray everyday, Pray everyday, Pray everyday
Read the Bible, Pray everyday
If you want to grow”
“A for Abraham, fathers of men
B for Bethlehem where Jesus was born
C for Cain who killed his brothers
D for Daniel, the prophet of God”
“Green apples are bad, yellow apples are good”
This happens to be my favorite one to point out. You might be able to guess why:
“Bobby Shaftle gone to sea
Silver buckles on his knees
He’ll come back and marry me
Bobby, Bobby Shaftle
Bobby Shaftle, bright and fair
Combing down his yellow hair
He’s my love forever more
Bobby, Bobby Shaftle”
I watched the kids as they repeated after the teacher, doing hand gestures and at some points just staring at me, looking at whether or not I was watching. At one point, I and the teacher were the only ones singing the words, so she said “Me and Auntie are the only ones singing. Come on and clap for me.” The kids clapped. “Now clap for auntie” she said, referring to me, and the kids clapped. (In Ghana, Auntie is a sign of respect shown for an older woman). With these songs she was enforcing ideas and values the kids will internalize and hold onto for the rest of their lives.
The teacher eventually let them go out (I’m guessing to use the bathroom). When they came back in, the teacher decided to test their colors. She asked each child what the color of their chair was, and only one student got it right. One boy raised his hand timidly and gave an incorrect answer, so she quickly asked someone else as his face suddenly showed a drop in confidence. She made an expression of disappointment and went to go fix their lunch. When they were done eating, she had them go outside to play and asked me to draw animals and fruits on the board. She and the other teachers took a bucket and mop and cleaned the floor and about a half an hour later, she was setting up little pieces of carpet for nap time. She eventually called the kids in, “Come on and nap” she said, as they trickled in. “How long do they nap?” I asked. “Oh two or three hours, it depends”, she said. It was about 12:30 when they started napping, and nap time ends at 3pm. I don’t remember how long my nap time was when I was in kindergarten, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that long. Observing how they learn was fascinating for me, and taught me even more about the power of being a teacher. You can break or make a kid’s confidence, and even more importantly, you can teach them ideas about others and themselves that will potentially stick with them for the rest of their lives.
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