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.)