Off on our first real African adventure. Naomi, Andrea and I were off to the western region of Ghana to Nzulezo, a village built about a mile inland from the coast completely on stilts. We left Friday morning and after nine hours and three tro tro rides (one of them was as close as I’ve come to Indiana Jones in real life) we got to Beyin a small town just outside of the stilt village. We couldn’t arrange any accommodations for the night because the phone numbers in our guidebooks didn’t work. Fortunately, on the last leg of our trip we met a few other obruni girls from the University who were also headed for Nzulezo and had a place to stay. We were so tired and hungry that we went along with their plan hoping to get a room for the night and what we found was a charming beach lodge with a glorious menu and best of all, a shower room with a water heater. We stayed in a little hut 100m from the beach and woke up to the ocean and a wonderful view. As peaceful and calm as it was in Beyin we packed up and walked to catch a canoe ride to the village.
We got a very nice guide to take us down the canal and he showed us points of interest along the way (such as the rickety old wooden fish traps and where the snails like to live). The ride was amazing though, we were in a six foot wide canal with sweeping grassland to either side and jungle in the distance. After around 45 minutes we got to the lake where the village was nestled off to a corner. We parked the canoe and our guide walked us through the village, which was incredible. There’s a main “road” they call it, that is a rickety wooden walkway that goes through the houses. Four hundred and fifty people live there and make raffia wine, which apparently is their source of income, although I couldn’t help but think that tourism is another hefty contributor. We saw the school, the three churches, I peeked into a few of the houses, and then we saw where they all bathe and go to the bathroom and get their drinking water…oh wait that is the lake.
When we got back, we walked into the town to catch a tro tro back to the closest city and after village hoping and another bumpy ride, we made it to our destination for the night Busua Beach. On the last leg to the coast you have to take a cab and of course our cab driver suggested we stay at his sister’s lodge when we couldn’t tell him where we were staying. It turned out to be a cute, rickety hotel right on the beach run by a family in the middle of the bustling town. We got a small bamboo room upstairs with a view of the whole beach and surrounding area. That night we ate a huge meal, watched the surfers, and went to bed early. The three of us shared a little bed with one mosquito net so it was a bit crammed but for ocean views and $4 a person we couldn’t complain. Overall another wonderful weekend, but I’ve had my share of the Ghanaian coast. Soon we plan to head inland and see the waterfalls and jungle! In the meantime I’ll continue to study (midterms are apparently coming up, but their lack of syllabi in my classes isn’t helping my cause), dance like an awkward white girl, and soak up life in Legon. And holla, it’s almost mango season!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Better Late Than Never!
It's been a while since my last entry, this is mostly because of laziness and lack of internet, but lots has happened in between and since I know you all care let me start with three weekends ago. As the last part of our orientation, the UC group travelled to the Cape Coast for the annual festival celebrating the seven chieftaincies in the area and their respective military groups (don’t worry Mom, today they are more a representation of their groups and heritage, not actual military groups). Out first night we watched a vigil held my the priests and priestesses that began at 10pm and ended the next morning at 4am. It is a very meaningful tradition for them because the priestesses go into trance and receive messages from their ancestors. Well stayed for about an hour, there's only so much we could get out of the half naked priestesses dancing, but regardless it was cool to watch. The next day's event was optional for us to watch, the slaughtering of a bull. I figured I may never witness this again so why not check it out? Well when we walking down to the square where it was to be done we found a pool of blood and the chiefs feasting on meat, guess we missed the boat on that. The city was packed with people for the festival. We spent the day walking on the beach, fending off vendors, enjoying the scenery, watching traditional dance and drum performances, and got a few beers at night at a small bar called "Mother's Inn". When we noticed an abnormally greater proportion of bulky women in there we put the pieces together and noticed we were hanging out in a lesbian bar/house. Ghana is always full of surprises!
Saturday was the day of the festival, we woke up early and headed down to where it began and watched as the streets filled up with people selling food, dressed in costume, and families sitting observing. We all agreed that the vibes we got were similar to 4th of July. Eventually came the parade, a whole of pomp and circumstance. The chiefs were carried high above everyone in thrones accompanied by huge umbrellas. Each chief displayed his blinged out gold jewelry and was trailed by an entourage of dancers and drummers. We joined in the parade and danced through the streets but after a while couldn't take it any more and slipped out to get lunch on the beach and relax the rest of the day.
The week proceeds as usual.
Last weekend we decided to stay in town and explore Accra. On friday a small group of us went to Makola Market, the largest marketplace in the city. We easily got there on our first attempt (a few weeks ago we thought we were shopping in Makola only to find out from our friends that we were basically just shopping around in the slums of Accra). In Makola we found streets upon streets of beautiful Africa fabrics, fish, vegetables, fruit, amazing bread loaves, candy, basically anything you need. I even found a butt pad that you wear in your pants, I'm thinking of investing in it. On our way back to the tro tro station, we were stopped at the main road by men in costumes galloping up and down the street at full speed. We were just in time for the parade of Eid, celebrating the end of Ramadan. A huge train of people decked out in Muslim attire made of colorful African prints, trumpets, drums, people dancing, singling, and smiling snaked through the streets. I looked around and saw a Methodist bookstore, a Presbyterian church, and a Christian church, and right in front of me I was watching an Islamic celebration. And still everyone clings strongly to their African heritage and traditions as I saw the weekend before in Cape Coast. Needless to say, religion is a strong part of life here, and I continually get questioned why I don't go to church services here (sorry Grandpa!). Almost every Sunday morning at 6am someone calls to invite me to church. "It's just the way America is" is the only way I can try to settle their utter bafflement.
A few anecdotes:
-At the market I got called Linda, Jessica, and Chinagirl by random people on the street trying to get me to buy their things.
-In a richer part of Accra I found a bathroom with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels!
-In my Oceanography class, I asked a student where I could get a hold of the lecture notes that everyone seemed to already have. His response was "Oh you know the old man to the right of the Botany department." What does that mean? I still haven't gotten them.
-Never ask for a menu here, even if there is one, they probably aren't serving what is on it and it likely won't be what you expect. In Cape Coast my friend ordered "Macaroni", the woman asked her if she wanted sugar on it... uh oh. She got served a hot bowl of spaghetti in evaporated milk.
Saturday was the day of the festival, we woke up early and headed down to where it began and watched as the streets filled up with people selling food, dressed in costume, and families sitting observing. We all agreed that the vibes we got were similar to 4th of July. Eventually came the parade, a whole of pomp and circumstance. The chiefs were carried high above everyone in thrones accompanied by huge umbrellas. Each chief displayed his blinged out gold jewelry and was trailed by an entourage of dancers and drummers. We joined in the parade and danced through the streets but after a while couldn't take it any more and slipped out to get lunch on the beach and relax the rest of the day.
The week proceeds as usual.
Last weekend we decided to stay in town and explore Accra. On friday a small group of us went to Makola Market, the largest marketplace in the city. We easily got there on our first attempt (a few weeks ago we thought we were shopping in Makola only to find out from our friends that we were basically just shopping around in the slums of Accra). In Makola we found streets upon streets of beautiful Africa fabrics, fish, vegetables, fruit, amazing bread loaves, candy, basically anything you need. I even found a butt pad that you wear in your pants, I'm thinking of investing in it. On our way back to the tro tro station, we were stopped at the main road by men in costumes galloping up and down the street at full speed. We were just in time for the parade of Eid, celebrating the end of Ramadan. A huge train of people decked out in Muslim attire made of colorful African prints, trumpets, drums, people dancing, singling, and smiling snaked through the streets. I looked around and saw a Methodist bookstore, a Presbyterian church, and a Christian church, and right in front of me I was watching an Islamic celebration. And still everyone clings strongly to their African heritage and traditions as I saw the weekend before in Cape Coast. Needless to say, religion is a strong part of life here, and I continually get questioned why I don't go to church services here (sorry Grandpa!). Almost every Sunday morning at 6am someone calls to invite me to church. "It's just the way America is" is the only way I can try to settle their utter bafflement.
A few anecdotes:
-At the market I got called Linda, Jessica, and Chinagirl by random people on the street trying to get me to buy their things.
-In a richer part of Accra I found a bathroom with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels!
-In my Oceanography class, I asked a student where I could get a hold of the lecture notes that everyone seemed to already have. His response was "Oh you know the old man to the right of the Botany department." What does that mean? I still haven't gotten them.
-Never ask for a menu here, even if there is one, they probably aren't serving what is on it and it likely won't be what you expect. In Cape Coast my friend ordered "Macaroni", the woman asked her if she wanted sugar on it... uh oh. She got served a hot bowl of spaghetti in evaporated milk.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Kokrobite Beach
I've gotten into the swing of school and all my classes are going really well (I've met a lot of students in the Geology department, I think they just like me because I'm white and nerdy). This weekend a group of girls from our program trekked to Kokrobite Beach about an hour away from Accra. It was a bit of a struggle getting there, when we got to the overcrowded main tro tro station in Accra we had to ask around but finally a driver said he was going in our direction and miraculously all eight of us fit in one tro tro and we arrived at Kokrobite about an hour later. What we found there was the Mexico equivalent for Euros. That might make it sound bad, and this place was truly awesome, but it was swarmed by Europeans. We stayed at Big Milly's Backyard a charming yard of huts, houses, small shops with local crafts, a bar, and a restaurant right on the beach. We stayed in an outdoor loft above the bar and stage where they had drummers and dancers friday night and live reggae bands on saturday night.
When we found out there was an Italian restaurant down the road, our white, american, girl selves couldn't resist. It was a lovely outdoor place, run by a Spanish woman and her husband with a glorious menu. Hmm maybe we should have known better... an Italian restaurant, run by a Spanish woman, in Africa. That's too many nationalities mixed in one and consequently Keni and I paid the price (Keni especially, that's all I'll say).
During the day on Saturday we lounged on the beach, swam, and made friends with some of the local rastas. Stella (my home girl; see picture) and her twin brothers run little shops on the beach selling their hand crocheted clothes and they gave us free coconuts that we enjoyed on the beach. That night I proceeded to dance the night away with Stella to the live reggae bands, she was all about it (imagine Charlie Brown and the gang's style of dance but to reggae music). For the most part it was a pretty harmless trip, we made friends with the staff and all eight of us got back in one piece with plans to visit again. As wonderful and paradise-esque as it was, I was glad to be back yesterday to a real shower and bed.
A few things I've learned/found/experienced so far:
-My nose has endured the worst stenches known. Everyday I seem to come across a different, worse one.
-If you tell your professor that you are tired of taking notes he might let you leave class.
-I have discovered the origins of the term "big booty"; it is synonymous with "Ghanaian woman"
-My feet might be clean after I'm home for a month, so January. (at least they look tan)
-I've started making bets with myself on what possession of mine will start to grow mold next (my jeans took the cake yesterday, today it's a pair of sandals)
-If you need a question answered, ask five people and then see what answer you get the most, it might be the correct one!
-When Ghanaians I know said hi to me on campus I responded "hi how are you?!" and waved violently which is apparently a bit overly friendly and enthusiastic based on their reactions.
-As an American, the best way to have a good time and enjoy yourself is to accept that you are white and laugh at all of the frustrating and backwards ways of life here that are different from home.
Miss you all!
When we found out there was an Italian restaurant down the road, our white, american, girl selves couldn't resist. It was a lovely outdoor place, run by a Spanish woman and her husband with a glorious menu. Hmm maybe we should have known better... an Italian restaurant, run by a Spanish woman, in Africa. That's too many nationalities mixed in one and consequently Keni and I paid the price (Keni especially, that's all I'll say).
During the day on Saturday we lounged on the beach, swam, and made friends with some of the local rastas. Stella (my home girl; see picture) and her twin brothers run little shops on the beach selling their hand crocheted clothes and they gave us free coconuts that we enjoyed on the beach. That night I proceeded to dance the night away with Stella to the live reggae bands, she was all about it (imagine Charlie Brown and the gang's style of dance but to reggae music). For the most part it was a pretty harmless trip, we made friends with the staff and all eight of us got back in one piece with plans to visit again. As wonderful and paradise-esque as it was, I was glad to be back yesterday to a real shower and bed.
A few things I've learned/found/experienced so far:
-My nose has endured the worst stenches known. Everyday I seem to come across a different, worse one.
-If you tell your professor that you are tired of taking notes he might let you leave class.
-I have discovered the origins of the term "big booty"; it is synonymous with "Ghanaian woman"
-My feet might be clean after I'm home for a month, so January. (at least they look tan)
-I've started making bets with myself on what possession of mine will start to grow mold next (my jeans took the cake yesterday, today it's a pair of sandals)
-If you need a question answered, ask five people and then see what answer you get the most, it might be the correct one!
-When Ghanaians I know said hi to me on campus I responded "hi how are you?!" and waved violently which is apparently a bit overly friendly and enthusiastic based on their reactions.
-As an American, the best way to have a good time and enjoy yourself is to accept that you are white and laugh at all of the frustrating and backwards ways of life here that are different from home.
Miss you all!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Here goes! My "Akwaaba" to Ghana
Well after saying I wasn't going to blog while in Africa, I gave in. Let's be honest I'm not very good at staying in touch when I'm home and it's been rough here too so I might as well inform everyone at once! So far, things have been amazing here. The first two weeks we had an orientation program set up for us through UC and the University here that was basically camp for a week (my favorite) but honestly it was the best way possible to get introduced to life here. Eight Ghanaian students (all volunteers) essentially gave up their lives to lead us through this crazy country for two weeks and they couldn't have been any more generous. First off they are all so funny and friendly but apart from that their devotion to this job is unreal! I mean I was trying to imagine myself in their position having to guide a bunch of whinny Americans around and I would have quit after the first five minutes. They showed us around campus, the city of Accra, helped us sign up for classes, tell us where to eat, where we shouldn't go because it's dangerous, who to look out for, how to get by speaking twi. And on top of it all they are our friends and come hang out with us from time to time.
Monday was the "first" day of classes but in Ghana that means that classes might happen, or they might be tomorrow maybe next week, who really know?! And good luck trying to find out where to sign up for the course. Fortunately the majority of my classes actually happened this week but when I asked someone on monday morning where my geology class was, I got laughed at because apparently no one goes to class on the first day. Not to mention a lot of the departments didn't even post the times of their lectures until yesterday and I still don't know when one of my classes is. The other day when I was trying to sign up for a music class, I got directed to about three different doors before finding the right one.
Dance 205, Introduction to Traditional Dance, might just be the best class I will ever take. It's taught by a man named Oh! Nii, (yes punctuation included). He's an old man who demands respect by all (we can quite figure out why, one night he showed up in tribal attire and another night he was wearing sweats and a T-shirt). He always enters the room cryptically with a cane and then ditches it a minute in and starts boogying. We dance to live drummers and around 10 dance TAs help us out, I have never seen anyone move their body like that, Ghanaians can shake it and with passion! For an hour an a half twice a week we learn Ghanaian traditional dances but mostly just get to forget about everything and have a great time being awkward Americans trying to move our hips and feet in sync, not too easy. And luckily for me, my skin tone really helps me blend in around here and it's rare that I get stared at an called "Obruni!" (their term for foreigner). More to come I'm off to dance class in a bit!
Monday was the "first" day of classes but in Ghana that means that classes might happen, or they might be tomorrow maybe next week, who really know?! And good luck trying to find out where to sign up for the course. Fortunately the majority of my classes actually happened this week but when I asked someone on monday morning where my geology class was, I got laughed at because apparently no one goes to class on the first day. Not to mention a lot of the departments didn't even post the times of their lectures until yesterday and I still don't know when one of my classes is. The other day when I was trying to sign up for a music class, I got directed to about three different doors before finding the right one.
Dance 205, Introduction to Traditional Dance, might just be the best class I will ever take. It's taught by a man named Oh! Nii, (yes punctuation included). He's an old man who demands respect by all (we can quite figure out why, one night he showed up in tribal attire and another night he was wearing sweats and a T-shirt). He always enters the room cryptically with a cane and then ditches it a minute in and starts boogying. We dance to live drummers and around 10 dance TAs help us out, I have never seen anyone move their body like that, Ghanaians can shake it and with passion! For an hour an a half twice a week we learn Ghanaian traditional dances but mostly just get to forget about everything and have a great time being awkward Americans trying to move our hips and feet in sync, not too easy. And luckily for me, my skin tone really helps me blend in around here and it's rare that I get stared at an called "Obruni!" (their term for foreigner). More to come I'm off to dance class in a bit!
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