Some of what I wrote while I was still there (but had no internet)

So this time instead of recapping everything, I am just going to go off the top of my head. Basically, here is a summary. It has been a crazy.. check that… CRAAAAAZZZZZZZYYYYYYY few days. We are talking about spotty internet, horrible ups and downs, numerous marriage proposals (which are all simply due to the fact that I am a white American girl), and misconduct and lawyer threats from my university. WHAT?!? Yes. Ok. Let me try to remember what I can. And before I go on… let me also say that it has all been worthwhile!

At one point, I wanted the hell out of Africa.
At one point, I thought there was no more hope for the women here… for the environment here… for anything really.
Yes. I am sorry… but it is because I ran into a group of people that seemed incredibly genuine about being friends… but they weren’t. They just wanted to seem like it so that they could maybe have some fun with the foreign “bruni” (White person) girl. They talked about life and God and love and hope for a better tomorrow with me. I told them I had someone back home already and yet they were still saying they were my friends, so I assumed that they meant it. They gave me phone numbers, Facebook contact info, and they were incredibly helpful to me, so I thought that they simply found me to be a genuine person that they wanted to know and have for a friend. WRONG. After that, it finally happened. We were in the middle of this big discussion… but then when this other “white girl” (their words) was walking along off in the distance (actually, it turned out that it was a dude that they mistook for one of the girls.) Regardless, in the middle of what I thought was a heart-to-heart, they cut me off and one of them got up instantly to go to this alleged white girl. They basically ditched me… I just shouldn’t have wasted my time by sharing anything deep and meaningful from my heart with them. Anyway, that whole episode made me feel a lot more jaded for a while. But this angry feeling didn’t last long. Within a couple days, my understanding of Ghana, Accra deepened from idealistic appreciation to a profound respect for the constantly simmering passion for life that drives its people to push themselves to hustle in the daily struggle for survival while at the same time engaging them in strong bonds capable of profound compassion and willingness to sacrifice. Africa has been through an incredible amount of bloodshed, and Ghana, itself, has seen enough including all of the disgusting elements of blatant slavery.

More importantly, before the occurrence with the fake friends, I wanted to see if it was true about the kayayei sleeping on the streets in dangerous situations. I saw blocks and blocks of these poor dear kayayo girls sleeping on the sides of dirt streets… some children, some young women, and some pregnant or with babies. They were sleeping on streets in a market where peeing in filthy gutters is not an uncommon sighting and rats scampered among them. It was noisy due to cars, machines running, people talking loudly, music playing, and other things. They slept like sardines lined up in several rows with their babies in some lit and some darkened areas. Some even slept sitting up. It was so hard to believe that this was actually real. It felt horribly surreal… Coby, my new friend, showed me this place. We walked down the dirt road in the marketplace and found this situation on both sides of the street. This was atrocious… absurd… how could this be acceptable?
Apparently, the government has only been doing very little to help these girls. NGOs are working to educate the kayayei, but what about guidance and love? These girls don’t get much respect from any direction… not nearly close to what we all get. And, I don’t think they know better enough to tell… regardless, WE, their brothers and sisters of our human family, DO know better. So… ok, there is a lot of work to do.
That same night, my project got squashed for the second time. I am not about to go all into the details. Everyone seems to have an opinion about it. Instead, I have decided to work on this issue after June 8th. I ended up sitting in the lobby in Africa feeling like I was wasting valuable time.. but, well, what could I do. Finally, other students from my program showed up and I have been spending time with them since they arrived.
It is a whole other ballpark when participating abroad in a college group, and honestly the adjustment was really hard. I basically went in kicking and screaming mentally. I just had gotten used to being among the locals and doing the things that they do. I felt a sense of camaraderie with them and was frustrated by how other students weren’t relating to them or spectating. Some seemed downright rude. Still…meh, I have to remind myself to relax and get over it. And pretty much all of the rudeness was due to unawareness and, certainly, most of it was unintentional. Of course, I am only speaking from my perspective of what I saw. Also, after that interaction with the three guys that I had earlier, I guess I could understand why many foreigners (meaning “us”) might keep their guard pretty high up around here. Still, it is a shame, because without the risks, many great opportunities to make friends fade into unwritten history. I have definitely met many people (other than the few fakes) that are dear and wonderful people who have kept in touch with me and checked in on me the whole trip.
Our bus driver is a guy named George. I believe he said he is originally from the Central Region of Ghana. He has hit on every girl in the program including me. Still, somehow, he is such a likeable guy that we all like him. He’s just basically a big kid, so we pay no mind. He is a very helpful and kind man, and even though he is our driver, he helps us in more ways than just driving. For example, he has helped one of our groups as they were negotiating a deal with a Ghanaian store for a generator and pump for their water project. We were there for five hours…yes, it was a rather grueling process. Whatever the case, it was necessary. One interesting thing did happen while we were in the store, however, and that was when a Ghanaian man walked up to us and wanted information about what we were doing there. He was polite, but he was not going to take a short answer. He responded with many investigative questions and replied with many knowledgeable answers. He was like, “Excuse me, uh… where are you from?”, “What is your purpose in Ghana?”, “Will you please explain your project?”, “Will the community be supported?”, “How will this support the community?”, “Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?”…and then he asked detailed questions about each project and talked about our need for God. He was very outspoken and a bit loud, so the whole store seemed to be listening in here and there. On top of that, I ended up being the one in the group who went back and forth with him until he was satisfied. Thankfully, he understood that we were coming from a good place and genuinely wanted to learn from this whole thing as we offered help for the people of Patriensa. It ended on a beautiful high note and he gave his blessing and revealed that he was a pastor in the area. We later learned that he was highly thought of in the community.
The next day, we met back up with George, who rode with us on our way to Patriensa. This time he wasn’t driving but instead, but he worked more as a guide who made sure we made it safely to Patriensa. We were very blessed to be riding in a nicer van that was rented from HLG, especially since we took a different route than the main road due to traffic. It was made up of mostly incredibly bumpy dirt road that allowed us only occasional relief with its intermittent section of pavement. The trip was around 4-5 hours, and the view was fabulous. Among the giant hills of lush green tropical landscape, we occasionally passed small villages. Every time, people were carrying all types of things on their heads, and it was men women, and even very young children. It just seems to be a preferred method. (I kinda wish I could do that… it frees up their hands and everyone has such great posture!) Along the way, we stopped at this nice place that offered a variety of options on their menu from Continental, Asian, Italian, and African food. I decided to have pizza since I wanted a break from Ghanaian food. It was actually really quite good. Pizza in Ghana seems to be a safe bet when it comes to an alternative to local cuisine. We arrived around 2 or 3 in the afternoon in a town that has made its place among the lush landscape. Goats and chickens, homes made of clay and wood, children in broken flipi flops, children in school uniforms, women with styled hair, men with stylish clothes, Muslim men in traditional dress, tiny covered marketplace, a Seventh Day Adventist Church and a Presbyterian Church that seemed nicely built with a steeple. Everyone in this town is kind for the most part, but poverty and hunger are an issue here. It is 50% children, 50% adults. Few speak English and most speak Twi. (Pronounced correctly, it sounds more like Tchwi.)

A kayayei working on far right…

A kayayei working on far left….

Some kayayo are male

A kayayei working on far left…

I am trying to be consider

Miklin hotel

The Day Before Yesterday (internet has been hard to come by)

The plan was that I would go to church with Edem (he is a Roman Catholic) and then we would go to the market and also to where the Electronic Waste is dealt with in Accra.  We woke up early so that we could be at his church by 7:30am.  What ended up happening was that we got ready (as well as one of his precious nieces) and were preparing to go to church, but Edem began to have such awful pain with his upper arm and shoulder that it was difficult for him.  Still, he wanted to go and take me with him to church.  He served me breakfast, which consisted of vitamin enriched cocoa and buttered bread.  The bread was so delicious and fluffy… I am not sure what kind it was exactly, though.  After that, we were on our way.  His niece of around 8 years old wore a precious little pink dress and was very happy and smiley.  As we walked to church, his pain became almost unbearable.  I strongly recommended that we turn back and that he see a doctor and he finally relented. 

When we got back to his home, we were disappointed because we really wanted to go to church.  We changed and walked to the clinic.  His niece stayed home with her sister and mother who were home doing laundry with the rainwater in a metal tub and doing other housework such as cleaning the kitchen and washing dishes.  The first clinic we visited was not as kind to him as he expected.  He has been a patron there for some time.  The nurse took his vital signs and then he waited.  She already took 5 GHC from him, but then later returned and told him that the doctor could not see him today.  He became upset about it and she told him further that he still owed money to the clinic from visits in the past.  He argued with her because he felt like they were blowing him off and because they didn’t tell him in other visits about this money that was owed.  He couldn’t understand why on earth they didn’t mention this any other time before.  It puzzled me, too.  He finally got his money back and opted to go to a different neighboring clinic. 

When we reached the other clinic, an older woman that was a nurse there helped him.  But she only talked to him and made recommendations about how to deal with his pain until the following day.  She spoke with him for around 30 minutes and we headed back to the house.  He seemed disheartened and his pain was still bothering him.  I gave him a couple advil and he slept.  I worked on a few things in the meantime and napped as well. 

The Market

Later that day, he was feeling well enough to go to the market.  We had a small lunch before we left.  It took several taxis to get there.  Sunday is a calmer day there, so this was a good introductory day.  I got many pictures and video from the taxi rides and while out walking around.  I was blessed to meet several people while we were out on our journey. 

The market consisted of a variety of Ghanaians.  The vendors walked around with some merchandise while others set up spots along the edges of the street and walkways.  I also saw a few kayayei at work.  One of them was a man.  Edem helped me to distinguish a kayayo from a vendor with merchandise on their heads.  They kayayei work for the vendors, the vendors purchase things in bulk and work for themselves.  As we walked a few people called out to me to purchase from them, but it was never overly aggressive.  The only time that I felt concerned was when I took a picture of a produce section of the market and one of the women called out to me, “why are you taking pictures?!”  Men there with machetes also called out to me from behind a large carcass of meat to buy from them.  I felt guilty about taking the picture…  I don’t want anyone to feel offended.  Edem just smiled at me.  I asked him what it would be like if I was there in the market alone without him.  He told me that people would be calling out to me from all directions and much more aggressive, but that I would not be in danger.  Still, I believe that I might have felt quite overwhelmed.  I was so thankful to Edem for going with me.  He has been an unbelievable host and friend.

Abogblushi (still not sure I spelled that right)

This is where the scrap dealers work.  The scraps are from America and other first world countries dumping their electronic crap in Ghana.  Is this a politically arranged deal?  I am not sure… but I DO know that the pollution is horrific.  I met a group of kayayei here.  Edem did not speak their language, but we were able to quickly find an interpreter to help us.  We got a general idea about their situation from them, but we kept things very surface…just let them know that we wanted to help them if they felt they needed it.  It was a short conversation and they were very welcoming even though a little startled by our encounter.  One of the girls brushed off the bench with her hand for me to sit there.  They all had babies and unabashedly nursed as we spoke to them.  They were between the ages of 12-17 and all lived in a group home.  The consensus was that they were part of a somewhat organized system and that they would be returning north once they made the money that they needed.  The fathers of the children were up north as well, but it is too violent for the children and too harsh of an environment.  Even this life was a better opportunity for their survival.  They did not express concern about sexual assault… however, we feel that it may because they need to know those who ask them about this much better first.  The issue was not pressed whatsoever. 

This is really sad, though.  The water was obviously toxic–bubbling with chemical reactions and bluish.. there were no signs of life in it.  Homes that were made of scraps were huddled together among puddles of sludge and garbage.  When we first arrived, I got strange looks.  However, Edem managed to help me to interact with the people safely.  Soon, they were coming from all around and wanting to know me.  They were smiling and wanting their pictures taken, and we were soon joking happily with each other.  I was welcomed to walk deeper into the mess to take pictures.  I couldn’t help but feel a very deep respect for the people’s resilient spirits.  Our fellow human beings… part of our human family…  They are living like this.  WHY????  Why should they have to live like this while we only grow spoiled because we don’t have the next best thing or can’t do all that we simply want to do (rather than need.)  Why can’t we sacrifice more of ourselves for each other???  We are all connected.  There is no real bubble of close loved ones with outsiders to disregard.  To disregard these people, is to ultimately disregard ourselves, our loved ones, and our children’s future for a better world.  Even in this place, a divine light shines brightly.  Ghana has a beautiful divine light… America could learn much from it if only we weren’t so self-righteous about how great we are.  There is much strength and beauty to humbleness…

 

Trouble… can my research continue?

Later after returning home, I decompressed and napped.  Edem even tried to wake me for dinner, but I was exhausted emotionally and physically.  I finally woke up a while later.  They had saved me a plate for dinner.  Edem and I talked for a bit and he was feeling ok.  We decided to go out for a drink at a local hangout there.  The place had a very nice relaxing feel with nice music and a large screen showing a television show of some kind.  We sat outside and I had a Milky beer called Castle while he had a Guinness Malt.  As we sat there and took in  all that was around us, I got a phone call.  It was my superior, Dr. Gilbert from UT.

She was very upset with my decision to go about things this way and feared for my safety.  She doubted my friendship with Edem and demanded that I return to the Miklin Hotel in Accra immediately and that I email her and others once I got back.  I tried to argue that everything was fine and I was well taken care of.  Regardless, she told me that all Ghanaians are nice, but that doesn’t mean that Edem is my friend.  She insisted that I go back to Miklin.  I finally relented…

After I hung up the phone, Edem and I discussed how disappointed we were in the whole situation.  We talked about how important it is to really know the people and not just stay in a hotel and interact briefly with locals as an outsider.  We talked about how the quality of the research is affected due to assumptions about people being confused with truths, and how this is what builds the wall between “us” and “them”.  We talked about how people are so afraid of Africans, but that it is unnecessary.  We talked about how high the rates of murder and rape are in America and other more developed countries, and that in Ghana, the numbers are actually less.  Not once since I have been here have I felt scared.  Everyone has been nothing but kind… of course, I have been with a Ghanaian who was kind enough, himself, to escort me around.  Regardless, the people here are much more beautiful than many realize. 

We walked back, frustrated, but not defeated.  We discussed that at least this was a start, and it was a good one.  I have grown to love this amazing place… and I intend to come back.  Kind and loving people are here… Why should they be taken advantage of for the natural resources that they live among?  Why should they be dumped on?  Why should they be stigmatized?  Why should they be disregarded???  We must bridge understanding with them… They simply want to be respected, understood, and regarded as equal in the global community.  We owe it to them… we have so much of the things that we have because of their people, believe it or not.  In my opinion, our interconnectedness in this human family should be enough of a reason to be open towards each other.  However, it even makes sense from an economic standpoint.  You should never shit where you eat.  What I mean when I say that is that you should never harm those that nurture you.  Another saying is, “don’t bite the hand that feeds.”  How many more ways do I need to put this so that it sparks concern enough in others to give a damn??

 Now…

 It is almost 2pm and I am waiting still for Dr. Gilbert to show up so that I can get the tongue-lashing that is coming my way.  I have packed all my things and I am in the hotel lobby.  So far, I have managed to make several friends in the hotel.  One is a man named Prosper, who has told me that when I come next time with my boyfriend, I only need to tell him ahead of time and he will help me to get a discounted rate at the hotel.  We shared information and plan to keep in contact with each other.  Another friend is Eric.  He talked with me about God and faith and the importance of putting our trust in him because he will provide for us.  Something about our encounter felt very comforting and reassuring.  I was truly grateful for his time.  He also went out of his way to better explain the regions in Accra.  He called a friend for a map and when he couldn’t get in touch with them, he went and borrowed one and came back.  He was a very kind person, and he offered to take me around for my safety later on if I needed his help.  As I have been in the lobby typing all of this and waiting for Dr. Gilbert, a man by the name of David came and sat down to talk to me.  He was very kind and friendly.  He laid it on pretty thick though about how he will one day come to America to find me, meet my parents, marry me, and bring me back to Ghana.  Ha!  So funny.  I don’t take it seriously at all, though.  I am not concerned.   I already have a wonderful boyfriend back home who loves me dearly and that I also love.   I am aware that many men would love to marry for the Green card to become American.  He told me that my boyfriend may like me… but that he, himself, loves me.  Then he gave me his information.  I didn’t respond much back to that, though… and now he is afraid to look at me, I think.  So anyhoo… this friendship may not blossom into much of anything after all.  That’s my day so far.  It is pouring rain out… the lights flickered on and off for a bit.  The Internet is still down.  It hasn’t been working since I got here last night.  I am running out of things to do.  I have worked on refining my research.  I don’t know what else to do at this time to be honest.  Quite frankly… I’m upset about this day being eaten up like this… but meeting these few individuals has been worthwhile…particularly Prosper and Eric.   

 

 

Airport in Accra

Walking to Customs

Airport in Accra

Arrival

Yesterday… wrote this last night before bed.

It has been an incredible day.  There is a lot to share.  Ghana may not be as technologically advanced as the “1^st world” countries… (whatever that really means), but it has something truly special and unique about it.  The happiness and helpfulness of this place are two incredible things that are undeniable among its people.  “Wakame” means welcome… and I have heard this many times as they say it and smile and then say “It means welcome…welcome to our country.”

My friend, Edem, is a truly kind soul.  In fact, he has given me his own room to sleep in and been nothing but respectful and honorable.  When we arrived at his home, he poured me some Coca-Cola and we sat on his front porch and talked about our dreams for a better world.  He dreams to further his new NGO to bring a holistic progressivity to his people.  We discussed the importance of respect for the people’s culture, the importance of water, and the origins of violence.  He has support from others around the world and I have also offered my help to him as well.  I have already grown to have a strong affinity for this place.  Beautiful people.   While we talked, the call to pray played over his community.  Somehow, I found it to be beautifully comforting…

I rode the tro tro all day and a couple taxis.  Edem took me around everywhere and I knew I could turn to him if I was uncertain about anything.  He patiently guided me.  The rain came right before we left and it rained hard.  Suddenly certain areas were less safe to drive.  Still, he and I put on our raincoats and went about our way into the various regions.  (I need to ask him to write the names down so that I can better understand.)  We walked out among the wet red dirt roads and the small creeks that intertwined among them until we reached the barb-wired wall (common throughout Accra in even the wealthier areas) that contained his small community.  Eventually, we came to the street and walked to an unmarked area.  This is where we were going to find our first tro tro.  Several cars drove by honking or shouting to see if we wanted a ride.  Edem motioned them on until the tro tro we wanted came.  It wasn’t marked with a destination of any kind… so I asked him, “how does someone know this is the right one?”  He just chuckled.  He already told me earlier, that one just has to spend a lot of time there to finally learn how to get around.

This tro tro was an old probably early nineties shuttle type van that was playing uplifting reggae music on the radio and a driver and collector (for money and to get people on and off.)  They were working hard.  Occasionally, I saw a smile, but for the most part they were in the zone.  The van was full of people, but they continued to collect more beyond capacity.  Regardless, everyone was respectful of each other.  The way that people drive here is incredible.  You absolutely MUST be alert if you drive here.

Then, we were dropped off at a junction where there were many other tro tros that went to different places.  People shouted towards us so that we may ride with them.  We quickly found our next tro tro and waited for people.  It didn’t take too long before it, too, was full of people and we were on our way.  (no music this time)  As is common with tro tros, however, this one happened to break down.  Everyone waited rather patiently as the two worker rigged the van back into working order.  Thankfully, this only lasted for around 10-15 minutes and everyone rejoiced as we were driving once again.  Soon the traffic was thick and we were barely able to move for a short time.  As we were sitting in the traffic, vendors would walk among the cars with various items to sell that they carried on their heads.  I asked Edem if these were any of the kayayei.  He told me no.  These people work for themselves, but the kayayei worked for the vendors and made much much less.  He and I agreed that the best way for me to really know anything about the kayayei was for me to witness them at work in the marketplace.  (This is part of the plan for tomorrow.  My new friend, Yusef, may join us as well.)  Edem and I lamented the fact that too many people relied on poor research that was not gathered from experience among the locals themselves.  People need to leave the hotels and mix in with the local people and talk to them for a deeper and more accurate understanding.  This helps us to distinguish between truth and assumption before we pass things on.

Soon, we landed at the local Accra Mall- Shoprite.  Outside were people all around trying to hail rides or walking about.  The stylist in me couldn’t help but notice how fashionable some of the people are… like some of the hippest places in America or Europe that I have been blessed to see.  Also, some women of all ages were beautifully dressed in traditional clothing instead.  There was a great variety of people there along with quite a few foreigners from Asia—both Chinese and Indian–to Europe and America.  There were also people who dressed to show their Muslim faith.  This is where I did my currency exchange and got a new calling card for my phone since it had already run out.  We shared a veggie pizza, too, which was really good.  It was $16 for a medium pizza. Continental food cost significantly more… comparable to what we pay anywhere else.

It was a day full of more tro tro rides and another couple of taxi rides.  I was welcomed into a religious Christian elder’s humble home where I was welcomed and joined in prayer with him and Edem and his significant friend, Amma.  I walked briefly through busy marketplaces in the evening where I got some dried plantain chips and Nescafe coffee.  Amma was so sweet to stop the coffee guy for me and get it ordered.  When I didn’t have a small enough cedi bill, she covered me.  I told her I would definitely take care of her for that and she just smiled and chuckled.  However, when I returned to the van with the coffee, Edem was already kindly paying her back on my behalf.  I bought us dinner tonight, but I still owe him more.  Dinner was Kenkey (ken kay).  I found myself once again eating whole fishes with their faces staring at me.  (didn’t eat the heads.. not supposed to)  Hey… when in Rome… right?  Regardless, it was rather delicious.

After dinner, I used the outhouse, which is shared by the community and surprisingly cleaner than I expected.  It was very simple, but well maintained with a light.  Then, I bathed in a standing shower stall with a bucket of rainwater that was collected earlier in the day.  As I was bathing, I couldn’t help but think that it was really not so bad at all.  The key is just to wash your self in parts.  (my hair was last)  I shaved and everything and came out feeling refreshed.  I really appreciate this simple way of life.

Now, here I am.. about to go to sleep in Edem’s room.  He is so kind to lend it to me while he sleeps in another room due to concern about my comfort.  Tomorrow, we wake up bright and early for church.  I told him that I wanted to go.  It starts at 7am… we should catch the sunrise.  I believe this will add to the spiritual experience with God.  Afterwards, it will be back to the research.   Yusef told me that he believes the kayayei will really like me.  I hope so.

The landscape in this part of the world is drenched with a tireless strength of spirit that has faced adversities of many kinds from environmental struggles to political and economical exploitation.  Still, somehow there is a beautiful pureness to these people.  We should respect and strive to learn to them.  I feel like there are many first world citizens that don’t seem to really get this, and instead they feel that people in third-world countries need to somehow be “brought up” to the first-world level.  But, take a look at us all.  The structures we are built on are not sustainable and are rather production oriented rather than holistically oriented.  Hopefully, one day we will find a good middle-ground.

As I relaxed at Edem’s, I hear many people outside shouting with joy as they watched Chelsea and (forgot the other team) playing soccer (football to the rest of the world).  When their favorite team won, there was great rejoicing.   I am realizing that these people are already quite precious to me… it is as though I had some kind of connection with them that has been revealed.  I love them already.

Once again.. thank you for taking the time to read this blog… much love to you, dear friends and family.