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Hello,
School is finally over. As expected, I am relieved.
I just returned from a great last-week-vacation. On Monday, I traveled to a small town in the Western region (near Cote d’Ivorie) called Busua. I awoke at dawn and hiked the approximately 12 to 15 miles through overgrown farmland, various types of forest, and 3 small villages to the small fishing town of Akwidaa. I was fortunate enough to get a bed in the dormitory of the famous Green Turtle Lodge. I stayed there for a few nights, hung out with some really friendly Peace Corps volunteers that were on vacation from Niger, and gorged myself on fresh lobster I bought in town for $3 a pound. On Friday, I met up with some friends to hike across the most southern point of Ghana (about 10 miles) to another small village called Princess Town. Upon arrival, we decided to stay in a 15th century German build castle for the night. For about $2 a night, it was a pretty good deal. The nice thing about colonial-era forts is that they always have nice views of the surrounding area. This place was no exception. I was fortunate enough to watch both the sunset and sunrise from the comfort of the castle walls.
My time here is coming to an end. For months now, my friends and I have always joked about the low flying airplanes that passed by multiple times a day, “That’ll be us someday”. Well, that day is just about here and I’m not sure I’m ready to go. I guess that’s the sign of a good trip.
I’ve been trying the think of how to respond when someone asks me how my trip to Ghana was. I find it difficult to answer this question because the words “amazing”, “incredible”, and “unforgettable” all seem to be an understatement. I’ve come to the conclusion that it is impossible to put what I have experienced in the past few months into a single sentence response. The only thing I can say to that inevitable question is this: It was the beginning of something I hope to chase forever. This country has gifted me the tools to turn a passionate spark into a raging inferno. There are no streetlights on the path less traveled. Let our consciousness guide us where our eyes cannot.
If I’ve learned anything here, it’s this: contrary to what we are socialized to believe, humanity does not cease to exist beyond America’s borders. It’s amazing to see how our common similarities far outweigh our perceived differences. Things like race, language, and various cultural nuances, become insignificant when compared to values such as love, friendship, and brotherhood. Although I am over 10,000 miles away from anything I’ve ever known, I’ve met people here that I can relate to more than some I know back home. Nationality is meaningless in relation to common humanity. We have more in common than we seek to know.
If we can accept this fact, we must ask ourselves this question: why is it that we, in America, empathize more with a mother in California who has just lost her daughter in a car accident than we do with a father in Sudan who’s son has died of starvation? Has our culture become so superficial to believe that, because someone has a different language or religion than us, the loss of a child is any less painful? Simply because, at night, we close our doors to the impoverished and downtrodden of the world does not mean we wake up to a silent morning because those in torment have been relieved of their suffering. Simply because you consider your UNICEF catalogue junk mail doesn’t mean starving children don’t die by the thousands everyday. Simply because you choose to put up walls around your homes and communities to muffle the cries of the weak and weary does not mean they don’t exist. The Bangladeshi man who will die of a curable disease tomorrow should be seen as more than a number on a long list of preventable global fatalities. He should be seen as someone who enjoyed having a beer with his friends and the love of his children as much as John Smith from Boston does. He is more than a faceless statistic; he is our friend, our neighbor, our father, our son, and our brother.
But more must be done than donating spare change to the Salvation Army at Christmas or “adopting” a single child from Christian Children’s Fund out of pity and/or guilt. While these things may provide some relief, they fail to confront the reasons behind the existence of the impoverished. It cannot be denied that we, as Americans, have all become privileged (by global standards) members of the international community. We have the money, opportunity, and influence to take action when other cannot. As such, we all have a responsibility, as members of the human race, to end the needless suffering of our brethren around the world. We must force ourselves to reexamine our roles in the cycles of poverty and dependency we have created and continue maintain in the Third World. Only by correcting the broken system well we restore human dignity to, not only the oppressed, but ourselves as well.
The only question that remains is not if, when you close this browser window, the problems of which I speak will still exits. The question is will you have the courage to face them? Undoubtedly, there are those who will read what I have just written and think nothing of it, that I am simply another liberal advocating for the “redistribution of wealth” and “global communism”, of which I am not. I am advocating for an end of a system that preaches that humanity is conditional. Once this is achieved, it will be much easier for extreme global poverty to be eradicated. I can only hope that those who refuse to take action will suffer many nights of uneasy sleep, haunted by those who have perished as a result of their complacency. Someone much wiser than me once said something along the lines of, “The darkest places of hell are reserved for those who, in the midst of a conflict between what is obviously right and obviously wrong, retain their neutrality.”
The infinite blackness that surrounds us allows the lights of resilience to shine brighter than we ever thought possible.
(The photo uploader isn't working now. I'll post the pictures for this entry when I get back home on Tuesday)
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danny
non-member comment
same lessons learnt
I am Ghanaian and moved to the US a couple of years ago for college. And what you got from your trip is exactly what I have come to realize living on 2 different continents. Human Beings are pretty much the same every where and all want the same things.