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Published: June 14th 2008
Well this is it. My last blog entry… which means alas, that this incredible, surreal stay in Africa has come to an end. Since my last blog I have experienced some incredible things.
My parents came to visit- their stay consisted of another trip out to Cape Coast slave trade castle, Kakum canopy walk, Cape Coast Beach, the African art museum, flight up north to Mole National Park, an incredible stay in the reserve in which monkeys jumped on top of and around the breakfast tables while people were eating, wild warthogs sleeping under the trees right outside our room, elephant tracking and following their footprints right up to a huge water hole where 14 elephants were spraying and dunking each other underwater like a group of 10 year old boys in a pool (in slow motion), spotting all kinds of smaller animals like antelope, waterbuck, monkeys, baboon, etc. Their stay also included the first hot showers we’ve had in three and a half moments, which is definitely noteworthy.
After they left, it was hard for me to get readjusted back to normal life here. I got a cold that lasted for approximately a month after they left, which I think was caused by a strange reaction to sleeping in air-conditioning for the first time in a long time (the cold shortly there after caused an ear infection in both of my ears simultaneously, which you could definitely say was “less than fun.”) After being chauffeured around by drivers from the travel agent for a week straight, it was hard to get used to walking miles again everyday, whether you have the energy to or not. So for a while after they left, I just kind of get in a mood to not really do much of anything at all. Finals were coming up, so professors stopped holding classes about two to three weeks before (even though the syllabus showed that teaching was supposed to continue up to the week before) which was incredibly frustrating. Each time we’d go to lectures, the entire class would be sitting there not knowing if the professor would show up or not. To prepare for exams here, the professors make the exams from previous years available to use as study guides. We spent a large amount of time taking walks all over campus to the library, to the department, to the department library, to the professor’s office, etc. on a wild goose chase trying to find our various exams. Shane even made a total of five visits to the religion department on the other side of campus in search of just one exam… multiply that times 5 different classes and you can see how that could be exhausting. So that’s how most of the later days of May passed, with an occasional trip to the pool, or out to eat Indian food, etc. In the last week in May we had to leave the country to renew our Visa. So that consisted of sitting in a tro-tro for 5 hours to the Togo border, crossing the border, eating lunch at a wonderful little French restaurant with amazing food, crossing the border back again, and taking another 5 hour car ride back to campus.
The final big trip that Shane and I went on was back to Busua beach for a four-day weekend in between exams, and I swear it could not have been a more perfect trip. Last time we went to Busua we were only able to stay for one night, and had stayed in a more expensive hotel. But this time, a recommendation from a friend led us to the less expensive, beach front Busua Inn. It was absolutely incredible. Our room had a balcony overlooking the beach, so we could hear the crashing waves from our room. The hotel had boogie-boards that were free for guests to use, which if I can venture so far, might really be the thing that made the trip over-the-top great. Normally when Shane and I go to the beach, he is able to stay in the water for hours at a time before he gets tired, whereas I am lucky if I can stay out 30 minutes before I am completely exhausted of being thrown around and doing summersaults unwillingly because I have less body mass than he does (the undertow and general force of the waves here is really incredible!) So this was the first time we had boogie-boards to take out with us. I got really good at using the board to take the brunt of the wave, so the waves didn’t beat me up as much and I was able to stay out for hours at a time. Shane and I had so much fun sizing up the waves as they came towards us and shouting either “Over!!” or “Take it!!” like a military charge to denote whether we should jump over the wave or ride it into the shore. The best was when we would both catch the same wave and ride side-by-side, like a race. We decided to say goodbye to the ocean after the best side-by-side wave ride of the entire trip, giving us the most perfect memory of Busua that we ever could have asked for. Like our previous trip to Busua, we were the only people in the water as far as the eye could see for basically the entire duration of the trip. We kept remarking how incredible it’s going to be when we come back in 10 to 20 years, and Western all-inclusive resorts have consumed the entire beach. I’ve never tried so hard in my entire life to burn an image or memory into my mind as when we were on that beach. I think we would have stayed there forever if we could have, but sadly exams served as a cold reality made us come back to the real world.
After we got back to campus most of our time consisted of prepping for exams, pool days, and trips to the market for last minute gifts and souvenirs. We were able to go with my next door neighbor, Benson, to the boys’ and girls’ home that he grew up in. The school is run by a Catholic priest named Fr. Joe, who lives there all the time. He and a small group of other workers goes into a few marked parts of the cities where there is the most poverty, and find children who live on the street and try to convince them (and their parents, if they have any) to come to their school. The school functions like a community center, and is separate from the boys’ and girls’ homes. It is open every day from 7am-5pm, the school lessons are free, and after class is over for the day there is a small field inside the compound where the kids play soccer until closing time. Although primary and secondary education is mandated as “free” in Ghana, like we have in the U.S., this is the first school I know of here where attendance is actually free. Benson laughs every time he talks about education being “free” in Ghana because apparently it’s quite a joke, although he is hopeful that one day it will actually be true, as the laws mandate. Even more impressively, the kids who come are given a free meal at lunchtime, and Fr. Joe told us that for most of the kids, it’s the only meal that they will eat all day. Of the kids that attend this school, the kids that stay the longest and show the highest desire and potential are offered very coveted spots in the boys’ and girls’ homes. There are only about 12 kids in each home, and they are given food, clothes and a place to sleep until they graduate from secondary school. Volunteers frequently visit the homes from all over the world and stay at the home for weeks to months at a time to help out. The home is entirely reliant on volunteers like these who continue to send money once they return home. Many times they will even fund a specific student’s college education through giving them a full scholarship to a university, trade school or apprenticeship. A German woman who came to volunteer at the home when Benson was young, took a liking to him is paying for his entire university tuition. Likewise, a different German family is paying for Benson’s best friend’s education. He is majoring in German at a different university in Ghana and the family has even paid for him to come and visit them in Germany a few times. Shane and I have been trying to make a visit there to volunteer for quite a long time now, but every time Benson told them we were coming, something came up at the home or there were already volunteers committed to coming those days. When we went up, we were only able to stay the afternoon, but we both dropped off a lot of clothes and other things we didn’t want to take back to the states with us. They were all very grateful to us, and asked us to give Benson our addresses back in the U.S. so they could send us materials in case we or any of our friends were interested in funding their program.
Since our visit to the boys’ and girls’ homes last week, time has absolutely flown by. My roommate and another girl from our program have already gone home, which was really weird. We are departing on Sunday (June 15th), arriving home on Monday (16th), with the same group that we flew in with, minus the few that either flew home a few days earlier or are staying later to keep traveling.
It’s so weird to be going home. There were so many points during the semester where I felt like I just couldn’t take it anymore. Sick of being sick all the time. Sick of the massive amount of bugs that are always around. Sick of being ripped off when I’m haggling just because I’m white and people think I will pay more. Wanting normal food, or running water, electricity, or just to not feel like I am losing half my weight in sweat every single day. But when it comes down to it, I am so sad to be leaving. In my mind Ghana has become so personified, to the point where I’m going to miss Ghana like I’d miss a friend. At this point it’s hard to say what I will miss the most. The ISH with its beautiful courtyard in the middle, my 4th floor balcony where I’ve spent so much time telling myself over and over again “Oh my gosh, I’m in Africa.” and watched the kids run to school in their uniforms each morning. I’ll miss the way it rains here, pouring down so much water you can’t believe the sky could hold so much water. I’ll miss the way people warm up to you so quickly, after just one small joke they act like you are their best friend. I’ll miss the way people look out for you, for no reason other than they are good decent people who want to help you out. I’ll miss the way elderly people are treated like kings and queens and revered as the wisest most intelligent people around (whether they’ve gone to college or not.) In spite of myself, I will miss the daily mile long walks in the scorching heat for reasons I can’t even honestly identify at the moment. I’ll miss the comedy of ordering something off a menu, and be given nothing more than a headshake to mean, “No you dumb white foreigner, we haven’t served that in years. Keep picking things off the menu, eventually you’ll find something we actually serve.” I’ll miss woman that sits outside ISH a few evenings a week selling brownies, cookies, and banana bread and yelling “yumm… some banana bread to tantalize your senses?” which had us convinced for most of the semester that she was actually selling drugs (although its recently been affirmed that she is actually selling nothing more than mediocre baked goods.) I’ll miss the ladies who make our egg sandwiches every morning, and take an unreasonably long time to do so, to the point that it’s quite hysterical. I’ll miss random people telling me that my brother (aka. Shane) and I look alike, and have the same ears. At this point, I can’t tell what I will miss the most, it’s just everything combined. Ghana has become like this person, annoying and miserable to be with at times, but at the same time so entirely wonderful.
I am excited to go home however. Who doesn’t love to go home after being away?? I miss all my family and friends, and can’t wait to see them. I cannot wait to eat doughnuts, chocolate chip cookies with an ice cold glass of milk, popcorn, blueberry muffins, cup cakes, fast food, my mom’s chicken noodle soup and just her cooking in general, pork chops with white rice and peas, corn on the cob, crabs, and my Papa’s famous spaghetti. It will be so good to be home, but as I look around me here in my dorm room looking out the balcony door, I know once I leave I’ll never be in another place like this. If and when I come back to Ghana, even back to this exact dorm room, it will never be the same Ghana as it is now. Ghana is changing so fast, I swear it’s a little different each day. Just since we’ve been here they’ve built a Holiday Inn and a Hilton Hotel right next to each other in down town Accra! In the next twenty years, this place is going to explode with industrialization. There are a few key issues that Ghana faces before it can ever stand up to a fully Westernized country, namely the corruption that is prevalent everywhere from the president and entire political system all the way down to the porters who work in the desk at ISH, lack of free education, women’s rights, poverty etc. But with all the international interest that is rising here (tourism, business, and otherwise), it’s unavoidable that this place is never going to be the same.
I have loved my experience here, and really don’t think I would change a thing. It has changed me as a person and opened my eyes in ways I couldn’t have dreamt of. I am so blessed to have had this experience. I want to say thank you to my parents for everything. Their continual support both emotionally and fiscally. The fact that they didn’t question my sanity (for too long) when I told them I didn’t want to study in Rome anymore, and wanted to go to a third world country instead. For paying for international phone calls just so they could hear about how their only daughter spent the entire previous night passing out and throwing up (which I know, as a parent, could not have been easy to listen to), but still didn’t insist that I get myself on the next plane home. For coming to visit and giving me a dose of home in the form of an entire suitcase full of junk food, and other more important ways that money can’t buy. I want to thank everyone that read my blog, either continually or just once. You have no idea how heartwarming it is to go to the internet café and see the number of people who have visited your page, and know that people at home are thinking about you and even care to know what you are experiencing. And most of all, thank you for all the prayers, they really have helped more than anyone could know.
Lastly, I want to invite anyone and everyone who read my blog to an open house/welcome-home party my parents are throwing me at my home next Saturday, June 21st. If you need directions send me a message and I’ll email them to you. It will start around 4:00pm, but it’s a general open house, so feel free to come and go as you please until who knows when. I’ll have out all my pictures, and souvenirs, fabric, etc. that I’ve bought here. I really hope you all will stop by, I really really can’t wait to see everyone!!
Again, thank you for continuing to read my blog, and letting me share my experiences with you, and I can’t wait to see you at the party!
peace,
=p
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Tom DeWolf
non-member comment
Traces of the Trade
Hello Lauren, thanks for your blog. It takes me right back to Ghana, which I visited in 2001 along with nine distant cousins as we were making the documentary film, Traces of the Trade: A Story from the Deep North. I remember so vividly the door of no return, Kakum Rainforest Park and the canopy walk, the beaches, and most of all the people. Our family is descended from the most successful slave-trading dynasty in U.S. history, which is why we made the film. We re-traced the Triangle Trade from New England to Ghana to Cuba and back to consider the legacy of slavery and its impact on all of us--black and white--today. For any of your readers who are interested, Traces of the Trade will be shown on PBS this month. It is the season premiere documentary on P.O.V. and is scheduled for June 24 at 10pm in most places, though you should check your local listings because dates/times are flexible. I wrote a memoir of my experiences of our journey called Inheriting The Trade. It's available at local bookstores or online. You can Google either title and get to our websites. Thanks again for sharing your journey with all of us. Ghana is a magical place and I look forward to returning there myself one day. Best wishes on your homecoming. Tom Thomas N. DeWolf