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Published: February 9th 2009
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Hello,
This past weekend, some friends and I decided we had had enough of upscale city living and headed about an hour west along the coast to the town of Winneba. This was not, by any means, the kind of place National Geographic would describe as a "rural village" but it did have a very different dynamic than Accra. Although we were headed for the beach, the bus dropped us off in the middle of town with a few vague directions (very few streets have names here so it makes getting around a bit difficult). When we asked locals for directions to the beach, we were surprised to hear them respond, "Which one?" Unbeknownst to us, there were 3 beaches in this town and we only knew of the name of a cheap hotel on one of them. Not enough information to get where we needed to go. We could all see the water from the hill we were on and decided to head that way. The road we were on lead us the middle of a small, but bustling, fish market. Before I knew it, other members of the group had accepted an offer from a girl to be
our unofficial "guide" to the town. Her name was Gifty.
As Gifty lead us through some of the unpaved sandy back-roads of her town, we were literally swarmed by dozens of children ranging in age from 2 to 10. Most of them crowded along the streets, waving and shouting, "Obruni! How are you?" I felt like I was the grand marshall of some kind of informal, unexpected parade. Some of the bolder kids were brave enough to run up to us and grab our hands. It was quite an experience.
Upon reaching our hotel, all 5 of us settled into our 1 room and headed for the beach. This beach looked like something out of pre-programed computer desktop. On the left, it was bordered by a row of seemingly endless palm trees and to the right, across the white sand, the Atlantic Ocean was met by a rock-free beach. A friend and I decided to walk down the beach for a ways and see if there was anything else around. Thankfully, there wasn't much. On our way back, we ran into another group of about 25 kids playing in a nearby river. When they saw us swimming back
to our hotel, they all ran enthusiastically to the stretch of sand we were heading for. When we got within shouting range, we were bombarded with mixed bits of Twi and broken Ghanaian English. Some were amazed, some were perplexed, but all were excited to meet us. It is a rare occurrence in America to see that many children genuinely happy and excited to meet 2 people. They seemed most interested with the hair I have on my arms and chest. Apparently, this is not something too common in Ghana and the kids made sure to give it a good tug before laughed and stalked us, from a distance of about 50 feet, back to our hotel.
Although we only stayed for one night, we had a great time and are planning on going back next weekend. When I got home, as exhausted as I was, I started doing my laundry, by hand as is usual. I've never realized how many clothes I actually have, and I don't have that many compared to American standards. I have started referring to Sundays as my weekly "rawing of the knuckles" ceremony because my hands are completely mangled when I am through
(so much so that it hurts to take a shower or write for any extended period). For all the work that goes into it, I don't consider it to be that much of a pain. Its one of those things that, even though I would rather be doing something else, I have to wash if I want clean clothes. Besides, there is a very rewarding feeling when one takes all of their clothes of the line. I haven't decided if that is my reward for a job well done or because I know I won't have to do laundry for another week. Either way, I have fresh clothes for a week.
If I was still minoring in religion, I would have loved to do an independent study project here about Ghanaian Christianity. The fundamentalists can certainly check Southern Ghana off their lists of areas to "bring the light of Jesus" to. I have yet to see a bible in its entirety here; most people only use a book that contains the new testament, proverbs, and psalms. Every other business has some kind of religious name: "Glory Be To God Hair Salon", "By His Grace Ventures", "Jesus Loves You Fruit
Stand". I decided not to debate my Uncle when the subject of justification for dinosaurs in the bible came up. I figured its probably not a good idea to question to basis of my host family's religion whilst I am living in their home. Any attempt by me or Reem to explain the basis of agnostic spirituality is always met with the same response, "Well, I pray you come to the right conclusion". While I try not to pass judgement, I find it difficult to have a discussion about philosophical or metaphysical ideas with someone who believes they have all the answers. When it comes to religion in Ghana, it is hard not to feel like a Red Sox fan in Yankee Stadium.
Its nice to know that there is more to life than a classroom, and coffeeshop, and the smoke-filled, beer-stained basement of some arbitrary house in Parkland. I have spent the past month laying the foundation of my experience here. Now its time to build.
PS: I've added some pictures. They were taken in Accra and surrounding areas. Enjoy!
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anonymous
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Amazing pictures Jake. I can't lie, it's my favorite part :)