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Published: November 11th 2008
Oh my hello there. It has been a long time. Let me begin by saying that the internet has been insanely unhurried the past few weeks. There have been a few times when I have typed up a blog only to find the internet too slow to post it or save it. I’ve been trying for about a month to schedule my classes for spring at Pitt and can not open e-mails from my advisors. Such is Ghana, as our USAC saying goes: “So often slow and broken.”
Allow me to hit on the finer points of the past few weeks:
Halloween in Ghana was a success. Searched for some form of outfit the morning of - bought a white sheet for 3 cedi, picked flowers for free and went as a toga. Some U.S. students living in a 95% Ghanaian hostel threw a fairly massive Halloween party—made me feel like a freshman in college and wonderfully happy. Climbed to the roof, danced, etc.etc….did not disappoint to be entertaining obrunnis to all the non-costoomed obebinnis, I’m sure. Perhaps the only letdown was my first taste of palm wine, which, I have to say, was rancid. Luckily for the palm tree, when you ferment that stuff you get an incredibly strong liquor….that and palm trees are just little pieces of heaven in themselves.
Earlier that same day, I went to the Cultural Center, an outdoor art/craft market that our group had visited during out first week in Acrra. I remember the first trip as completely overwhelming…grabbed from all sides, hard to breath, leave me alone, get me out of here, overwhelming. This recent time was an entirely new experience. I was able to browse, barter, and converse with relative ease. At one point I took solace in front of a fan back inside of a man’s shop - hung out and talked politics and Pittsburgh for a while. A nice way to see some concrete assimilation to being here.
I had a friend from my dance class over one evening recently. He brought CDs that he had recorded in Kumase. For hours I sat as he sang and translated the songs from Sicily to English—mostly reggae songs about Jah, Jesus, peace, the benefits of getting an education, love, and his mother. Found out that his father had died when he was young, and that his mother was one of three wives. She supported him and his five sisters selling muffins. In celebutant news, turns out my friend toured with Black Rasta, the artist behind the insanely popular Barack Obama song.
Which brings me to the Election! Buses came at 9pm and took hundreds of obrunnis to a hotel lawn with a giant screen set up to CNN. We sat on the lawn all night eating, drinking, being interviewed by t.v. stations, and watching the exit pools come in. At around 5am CNN announded Obama as the winner and after the cheering subsided, the DJ threw on the Obama song—to which we all danced in front of the screen, pausing only to watch McCain and Obama’s speeches. Literally, during Obama’s speech, the sun began to rise, the birds came out, by the end of the speech it was a new day in Ghana. Unbelievable.
I am going to take the liberty here of posting part of a blog entry from one of my friends here because I read it the other day and feel as if I would begin to steal his words if I were to write on the subject right now, because they really hit the right spot:
“…This was bigger than the Civil War or the
Civil Rights Movement -- there was no violence here, no blood shed, no fire
hoses, or riot gear…We elected you, not because you are black but because we believe in you, the man…
I watched you win the presidency of my country from thousands of miles away in
the grass field of a hotel in the heart of Accra, Ghana. I watched it with a
country and a continent that has been raped and pillaged by people of my skin
color and by each other. I watched as they hoped that finally America would
start to wash away her sins. I watched as they hoped that who they viewed as
messiah would be elected and would save their continent. I stood next to black
Americans who literally broke down in tears next to me at the announcement of
your coronation. I thought about the claw marks on the walls of the the slave
castles and how I can never understand the relief that the ancestors of those
people feel now. I stood next to people who openly stated that they had lost
faith in America until the electoral count blew past 270…I don't know how much of that will really change with you. You are a politician
albeit a smart one and politicians have a tendency of making promises they
don't keep. All I know is that for the first time in a long time I am hopeful
for our country. For the first time, I feel like I will be able to take a
breath from damning every decision my country makes…
You have all the pressure in the world, almost literally, on your shoulders. But
you have asked for our faith in you and you have asked for our help. If you
walk the walk rather than just talking the talk, I will follow you. If you ask
for a sacrifice, I will make it. If you ask for patience, I will give it. If
you ask for faith, I will keep it so long as you keep breathing life back into
our country, into our democracy, and into our world.”
Emotional, yes. But the night as a whole was pretty darn emotional. Plus, there were t-shirts with Obama AND kente cloth (what Ghana is known for) on the same tshirt!
I wish I could better explain all the minor occurrences that throughout the day equal Ghana.
Things like going into a shocked and speechless dance because a dirt road with calf deep pot holes that flood when it rains has been smoothed out.
Things like hearing any oburnni say, “Ah, slow and broken, just as I would have expected,” and nodding in complete and utter understanding and agreement (with a soft spot warming in your heart).
Mornings dancing and singing to a fruit seller named Yaa at the night market to the song “Lean on Me.”
Events like being caught in the middle of 7 men with NDC shirts dancing and having to lie and push your way out.
Conveniences like being able to buy snacks for the equivalent of 20 cents, 500ml of waster for 5 cents, a plastic gin envelop for 15 cents, and being upset with yourself for splurging 70 cents on a can of pop.
Moments when hearing that your floor mates have mold growing in their pillows, and you just throw on an extra sheet over yours.
Late weekend nights walking through campus passing fields full of students talking in tongues (more on this later perhaps).
I bought a non disposable, non digital wind up camera for 11 cedi to discover that the film inside was to be developed before Feb 2007…we will see.
I am at this point going to post some of another USAC student’s blog. Again, written exactly as I should take the time to write:
“Here are some things that happened Thursday night.
I went to a dance performance on campus, some of my friends were going to be in it. There was an electrical fire during the second act (everything in Ghana is slow and broken). They kept going though (everyone in Ghana Keeps Moving Forward). The last dance was about the slave trade, and it was really, really, really good. Mike and Jen played Europeans. Mike had a really intense scene with Maia. I almost lost it, I almost lost it so bad when the guys in the back started laughing and cheering and yelling "give it to her!" during the rape scene. It was fucking rape. They were cheering on rape. What's more, it was rape of an African woman by a European. And they were cheering for it. I don't even know what else to say about that.
Then we went to the Bush Canteen to pregame before Bywel's. We got individual shots of gin in little plastic sachets for fifteen cents each. Pineapple fanta. Bywel's is always crowded on Thursday's, there's a great band that does covers and sometimes brings out some mad blues harmonica. Someone who worked at the bar tried to sell me to a Lebanese businessman, I think. I ran to Becca and Miriam and got away. Later Kristen saved me, too. "This is my sister... my sister..." I've never had so many sisters. We're always saving each other from our brothers.” ….
“On the Ghanaian front...
In the mornings, people go around to various student hostels and preach fire and brimstone to the balconies through loudspeakers. I always see them on Wednesdays on the way to my early class. This morning at 6:30 there was one at Jubilee, which is right next to my hostel. As I was walking by one of the Germans in my hostel was on his balcony, shirtless, and screamed "Can't you just shut up?!" It was hilarious. Then down the way I saw another at Mensah-Sarbah hall. I often see them at Mensah-Sarbah. They must be desperately Godless there.
On Monday Holly and I decided to share a cab to class. My Politics of International Economics class is at least a mile away. Usually I walk, but today I was going to be late. Holly has a class at the same time nearby, so we shared a cab. The driver was unusually enthusiastic. Holly asked him if he was having a good day. The driver immediately launched into a fervored speech about the glory of God and his love and how he knew today would be a great day because of God's goodness. Then he started quoting Bible passages. Then he began--while driving--to flip through his pocket New Testament to find some passage, John something or other. I asked if I could read it for him so that he could focus on driving. I read aloud from the pocket New Testament. Then I said "Do you want to hear my favorite bible passage?!" Which was my favorite, years ago, probably just for literary or poetic qualities. I couldn't remember it. Thought it was Luke or something. I ended up reading some verse that wasn't at all the one I meant. Then I went to class….
“I'm damned going to miss Ghana jokes when I get back. Kristen and I found some Ghanaian cocoa-coffee liqueur at the store, and made a drink using that, Ghanaian nescafe instant coffee, and Ghanaian "sugar daddy" brand sugar. I then exclaimed, "It's one hundred percent Ghana!" To which the reply was "Is it slow and broken?" That's not even a joke. Everything in Ghana is slow and broken. But you love it, you love it so goddamned much. And "Watch out for Fences!" This was a campaign poster for student elections--was someone's name really Fences? It was even better when the sheets were wheatpasted onto fences. Another of these posters advertised for Floppy Richard. Really? Your name is Richard, whose diminutive is Dick, and your slogan is Floppy? Good choice. My favorite stall in the Night Market is called "When God Say Yes Ent." The Ent. is short for Enterprises. There are like five sisters who run it, and as far as I know at least three of them are named Larba. But sometimes I get my egg sandwiches from Blessed Bless. God I love Ghana.”
^^^^Thank you thank you thank you Hayley for that. Exactly as I should have written it. <3
Back to myself…I think I am going back to Mole this weekend! (Elephant land). Classes have ended. I danced one dance final already and this morning I took the first half of my Twi exam. I seriously can not believe that in about a month I will be boarding a plane to London to Philly and back to Pittsburgh…
Love love love
Kristin
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Cathy
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Love your blog!
Hi Everything Yellow! My co-worker/friend and I have been following your blog faithfully. We started reading it back in August as my son was preparing for his semester abroad in Ghana with SIT. He is there right now, but since he has been traveling around the country so much, he doesn't write a blog; so we have been reading yours along with other students blogs. You have helped us gain a bit of an understanding of the country. I just thought you should know that you have fans here in California. We have worried about you when you've been sick and we have been happy to read about your awesome experiences! Thank you for writing!