Maggie's blog

The semester is coming to a close, but the end still seems so far away. The last two weeks are always the roughest. Final papers, projects, and presentations are all still looming on the horizon of next week. Everything seems to have fallen on the same week this year. I need to push hard this next week and get everything turned in. Once these large projects are out of my hands I think I’ll be able to focus a little more on finding some closure and saying goodbye to Ghana.

It’s easy to ignore the fact that I’m leaving in just 18 days when so much is going on. I push the thought to the back of my head and simply focus on school. This tends to be my way of coping with most things. I divert my attention onto something else and avoid it as much as possible. These next couple of days are going to make that very hard. We have a “re-entry workshop” on Thursday to help us talk about and put into perspective what going back to America is going to be like. Then at the beginning of next week we have a farewell dinner for the entire program. All of these goodbyes are quickly approaching.

When I think back on the semester my first thought is how it blew by. I can’t believe I’ve been gone for about four months now. I think back to all the things I’ve learned and the experiences I had. How community service filled a big void in my life and how patient and more tolerant of people I’ve become. How much my photography improved and how much confidence I have in myself now. Overall I feel like a much stronger and matured human being.

This semester definitely had its downs as well. Struggling to adjust and adapt to being a minority was probably the biggest. Even small things like the heat, smells, and traffic of Accra were all adjustments that I felt myself fighting at the beginning, now it’s just second nature. These tough moments are what helped me grow and are probably some of the strongest memories and lessons I’ll take from living here.

I’ve talked with my roommates a little about how our mentality might change when we get home. I’ve heard people say that it’s going to be hard and that things will be weird. I think the biggest challenge is going to be staying positive. After spending so much time in a place that needs so much help, our problems back home don’t seem like such problems any more. The hardest thing for me right now is the fact that I am leaving a place that could use my help more than the place I’m leaving it for. It tugs a my conscious knowing that so much could be done to keep Ghana on the positive path it’s on and yet I’m leaving that all.

In the end, I’m definitely ready to go home and spend the summer with the people I love. I know that one thing is for sure, I will be coming back very soon. 

Wrapping up the end of the semester always calls for reverie on all the adventures I’ve gone on throughout the past couple months. When I think back to my first week here in Accra it’s overwhelming to think about the things I wish I had known before coming. That’s what makes this experience so memorable and life changing, that I was forced to figure things out on my own and that I only had a certain amount of warning and the rest was up to me. Some days I’m more bitter than others about that fact but in the end I don’t think I would have had the memories I do had I been warned about so many things beforehand. There is also only so much warning one can give a traveler, especially going to a place such as Ghana and Africa in general. People can tell me that it’s going to be hot, that I’m going to be a minority, and that the traffic is bad, but it doesn’t sink in until you’re sweating on the walk to class, being constantly stared at, and sitting hours in traffic. In the end I think it all comes down to what is the most important things to know before coming to Ghana. While some things are good to handle and figure out on your own others are better if you are well prepared. A couple of examples include getting packages at the post office and catching a cab back from the airport. Two things that other study abroad sites probably do pretty easily and don’t need advice on are things that aren’t as smooth here in Ghana.

The post office is an incredibly corrupt and hectic system. First off it is incredibly expensive to send a package to Ghana. If using USPS it’s around 60 dollars to send a small package while using UPS that same size package would be around 200 dollars. The package isn’t delivered right to you room or even the academic site, but is held at the post office where you go and pay duties in order to pick it up. The post office is really large and it takes a little over a month for it to make it here. The women assessing the package and duties stamp an arbitrary amount on it and ask you to pay somewhere in the 50 cedi range depending on what’s inside. Then you are forced to bargain your way down until you give up and pay whatever amount you’re willing. I was sent to two different post offices and was forces to fill out tons of paperwork and give them a copy of my ID as well as my contact information. The woman wanted to charge me 50 cedi and I was able to talk her down to 15. I must say that the flaming hot Cheetos and sour patch kids that waited inside were wonderful after such an awful experience. My body was shaking and there were a couple of moments I thought I was going to cry. The amount of disrespect they postal services treats you with is unbelievable.

As for trying to catch a cab from the airport we weren’t told that cabs are actually not allowed to pick you up right in front of the airport. So tons of cabs are driving by dropping people off and trying to pick more people up but are unable to stop because the police are patrolling the area. My friends and I had paid 5 cedi to get to the airport when we were leaving for Spring Break. The airport taxis that we were forced to take were charging anywhere from 10-25 cedi. We were appalled at how much they wanted to rip us off simply because we were foreigners. In the end we tried our hardest to get a cab for cheaper but we were told by a man that, “This is the airport sweetie, the prices are different.” With his rude comment still in my head I bit my tongue and we paid 10 cedi to get home. The entire situation was incredibly stressful and I wish someone had warned me beforehand so I knew that it was going to be more expensive.

In the end I learned the hard way on those two things and I have definitely learned the hard way on some other day to day activities in Accra as well. But learning these life lessons are what make me a better traveler and bargainer here in Ghana. Some things are best learned on your own. I feel like I’ve grown up a lot since living here for the semester. There were so many instances where I was forced into a situation I may not have enjoyed and instead took the responsibility and learned from it. I think that’s the case with many of the people in the NYU Accra program.      

One of the most commonly asked questions I’ve been asked since my study abroad adventure started way back during the application process was, “So why Ghana?” I came up with some pretty good reasons including interests such as art, photography, culture, and the pure excitement of going to Africa in general. It wasn’t until I got here and established a daily routine that I realized how much I’ve learned about myself and my own heritage.

Going back to the Navajo Reservation every summer since I was five years old prepared me for this semester long excursion more than I could ever give it credit. Of course I never appreciated my culture back then.  I’ll admit that even after living there for a summer in 2010 I still wasn’t fully invested in getting to know my Navajo roots. It wasn’t until coming here, to Ghana, that I see the parallels my own culture has with Ghanaian culture. While the images of poverty might be striking and burdensome to my roommates, all I feel are the memories of the reservation come rushing back and the anger boiling up inside of me because similar conditions exist in our own country. I feel lucky that I’m able to teach my friends here a lot about the similarities between Native American and African cultures and tell them about how my mother grew up and the stories of my own experiences on the reservation. I especially enjoy talking to my mom about everything and hearing her personal opinion about it all.

Sadly, my biggest “epiphany” has been how desensitized I’ve become to certain disturbing images. The rural areas we go into and the shanty towns we’ve walked through are all places that I’ve seen and stayed in myself. My mother grew up in conditions very similar. The fact that dogs and cats are not domestic animals and are not treated as such was something I struggled when we would go to the reservation throughout my entire childhood. I see these things here every single day and I no longer fight or give into the sadness they used to bring me. Instead I feel even more energized to go back and spend time with my clan. I want to embrace my culture and learn as much about it as I can. I want to go back and volunteer and show my support, because without any of these things my culture is slowly dwindling away. Ghana has taken me back to my origin and reignited a fire I thought I lost when I moved away.      

Moving to Ghana was like putting me in a time machine and sending me back to high school in terms of responsibility, accountability, and independence. Leaving Shawnee, Kansas and moving to New York City was just the first step in me announcing my independence from my parents once I graduated. From there I moved to New Mexico for a summer, then South Carolina, and then to top it all off I got married. At 21 years old I own a house with my husband, I bought my first car last summer (a smartcar!) and I’m paying for college on my own through scholarships and hard work. I live an incredibly independent life. Coming to Ghana and being micromanaged by the people surrounding me was a hard adjustment. It was a struggle to trade in my head strong “mature” mentality for a laid back lackadaisical one. It was as if my mom was packing my lunch back in the fourth grade again. I couldn’t suggest a more efficient way to go about something and I couldn’t take charge and run the situation. After a couple weeks I learned that my superiors have a lot to contribute to the wealth of knowledge I thought I had. Perhaps not academically, but in terms of my character, I was put to shame after learning of the selfless acts my community service advisor does on a daily basis. She brought me back down to earth and made me realize that it doesn’t matter what I’ve been through in life already, there are always more things to learn.  
 
Miss Florence Okra, DSP Okra, Auntie Florence, Ena, any name you want to call her she will respond to in a bright and full smile. She is a midwife and nurse at the Ghana Police Hospital. At 52 years old she has two children of her own. One who is currently in school at the University of Ghana and wants to go on to practice law. She takes care of her brothers two children as well. She pays the school fees for six or seven other random children who aren’t lucky enough to have a parent as wonderful as her. When she isn’t acting as the mother to these almost 10 children she spends her time educating women about reproductive health and childbirth through Eve’s Foundation. She is a woman who is constantly trying to spread her knowledge and give confidence to all the women in her life.
She treats me as if I’m a daughter of her own. She buys me yam chips because she knows they’re my favorite. She gives me cashews so that I “get my protein in for the day.” She vents to me about how others disrespect her and most of all she teaches me how to be a better person. She has become my stand in mother during my stay in Ghana. Her nurturing personality automatically calms me down. She listens to me when I need a friend and she trusts the decisions I make when it comes to Eve’s Foundation. I recently learned that she puts her own personal money into this NGO during every event. The pregnancy school that she holds twice a month can cost her up to 400 cedis for only one class. She donates not only her time and money, but her heart as well. I see the way she touches the lives of all the women that look up to her and I’m proud to say that she has squeezed her way into mine and taught me a valuable lesson; I don’t always have the answers, but through getting to know other people I will slowly begin to find them.      

"No Sweetness Here" by Ama Ata Aidoo is a book of short stories that spoke to the relationship of neocolonialism and human rights all in beautifully written and almost poetic form. What I enjoyed most of all was the medium in which she presented her writing. As a creative writing minor, I'm a sucker for short stories. I also loved her imagery and beautiful descriptions of her characters. Here is an example of her describing the food I walk past and see people cooking on the street every day.  
 
"She was sitting on a low stool with her load before her. Like all the loads the other women would bring from the farms into their homes, it was colourful with miscellaneous articles. At the very bottom of the wide wooden tray were the cassava and yam tubers, rich muddy brown, the colour of the earth. Next were the plantain, of the green colour of the woods from which they came. Then there were the gay vegetables, the scarlet pepper, garden eggs, golden pawpaw and crimson tomatoes. Over this riot of colours the little woman's eyes were fixed, absorbed, while the tiny hands delicately picked the pepper. I made a scratchy noise at the door. She looked up and smiled. Her smile was wonderful flashing whiteness (pg 67)."
 
One of her biggest themes that weaves it's way into almost all of her stories are that of women's rights and the changes that neocolonialism has on Ghanaian and African women in general. I really enjoyed this because I think we all have a perception and preconceived image of African in our heads. We don't need to visit and see and experience anything in order to stamp a label on the continent. Instead we get our experience from all the books, facts, and stats that we learn each and every day. Ama Ata Aidoo changes and challenges these thoughts by representing the modern African woman. A woman who speaks with as much sass in her voice as I do, a woman who isn't afraid to say what is on her mind, a woman who wears westernized clothing, and a woman who struggles with balancing pre, post, and neocolonialism. She slips in little lines that make the reader sympathize with her struggles.
 
"But I was a teacher, and I went the white man's way.... As I passed the old people, they shouted their greetings. It was always the Fanticised form of the English (60)"
 
Aidoo focuses a lot on the changes that Ghana goes through and is still going through post-colonialism. She wrote this set of short stories shortly after independence was gained and focuses them around the struggles of a newly independent country. As a female who is struggling even now to gain any respect in this country I really enjoyed seeing the same struggles through her eyes and words. In the story titled "For Whom Things Did Not Change" she empowers the woman to challenge the system and follow her dreams. She talks about the gender opression and expresses how independence hasn't change the struggle women face each and every day. She touches on neocolonialism through the descriptions of dress, makeup, and even language without realizing it.  The western world has a new form of colonialism over Ghana and many other parts of the world in general through fashion and modernization. Overall, Aidoo brings to light many strong and controversial topics that are still very much at large in Ghana today.  It was almost a little disheartening to see how similar things still are now in terms of women’s rights. 

Having just returned from possibly the worst weekend trip of my life, I can't think of any place to write about but Nkawkaw, the town where the annual Easter Paragliding Festival is held, the town where I spent my weekend.
 
To preface my post I am still bitter about the experience. I feel like our posts are made out to all be incredibly positive about maybe even sugarcoat some of our memories. My weekend, while not a good one, has been the biggest learning experience for me since I got to Ghana three months ago. I appreciate the structure of the program, the location, the excursions, and the people so much more now that I've experienced what they might be trying to protect and shelter us from. From last weekend at the rural homestay to this weekend in Nkawkaw I am beginning to fully understand how incredibly different the regions of Ghana are from one another. From Accra and its neocolonial atmosphere to Nkawkaw and it's rural spirit- I think the "real" Ghanaian experience we have all been looking for was found this weekend. Uncensored and laid out before us, Nkawkaw and the mountain of Kwahu opened up my eyes to life in Ghana without a chaperone.
 
The spirit of Nkawkaw during the Easter Festival ­was like any American Festival with music blaring and people walking around drunk by one in the afternoon. We got off the bus in the heart of the town and I could feel the ground beneath me shaking from the bass of the speakers. Speakers stacked taller than myself, stages set up as we progressed down the one road town, and food stands lining the way, we found ourselves in an out of body experience as everyone started grabbing, pulling, hissing, kissing, and groping our bodies. My friends and I had crashed a party that we were so clearly not invited to. The Genius Loci of Nkawkaw was that it was a place for Ghanaians and only Ghanaians. As we walked the streets during the day and during the party at night we only saw one other "Obruni" (white person, foreigner) and it was a boy about our age frantically asking if we had seen three other white girls. We hadn't, and neither had he, he immediately ran away screaming for them even louder. The danger of the situation suddenly felt real and the animosity and hatred that we felt fill the air became even thicker as we found ourselves caught in a mosh pit that had formed in the middle of the street. In the end we had all been inappropriately grabbed in numerous parts of the body, my roommate was held down and robbed, my friends purse was slashed by a machete and if a fight hadn't broken out behind us we could have been trapped in there even longer.
 
The smells, architecture, and environment aren't what make up the Genius Loci of Ghana. If that were the case, nobody would want to come here due to the open gutters, shantytowns, and trashed streets. Instead, it's the people, food, and rhythm that draw outsiders in and welcomes us with open arms. As I mentioned above, this depends on the region in which you're staying. Accra has been incredibly warm and open to foreigners, while the eastern region we went to for the homestay and Nkawkaw was less so. The people are what set the experience here in Ghana. Their smiles, laughs, loud voices and dance moves send a vibe of energy through anyone that passes through. My experience this weekend really proved that statement to be true. Had the festival been held in Accra, the locals would have been much more open to having us around. Luckily one woman named Rose took us in for the night and helped us stay safe while in Nkawkaw.  It was her own spirit that helped reflect the town in a more positive image than it could have been.
 
In the end we spent the night in a locked cement room without mattresses because the locals had found out we were staying in there and the possibilities of someone breaking in where quite high. We were unable to leave that night because we were told that once we got into a taxi the driver would take us to a remote place and rob or hurt us. We felt trapped and unsafe and it was only Rose and her smiles and reassurance that helped get us through the night.  We told Rose that she was our guardian angel and that without her we don't know what could have happened. Its people like Rose who embody the Genius Loci of Ghana; the helping people who understand and sympathize and are willing to lend a helping hand without any expectations of payment. Rose helped me turn an awful and dangerous weekend into a learning experience in which I was able to learn more about myself and about Ghana through.
 
Oh, and in the end we didn't get to paraglide because it started raining. Getting our 100 cedi refund back is a whole other story!
 
 

My friends and I learned the hard way that going out is really only done on Friday and Saturday. It’s the second week of classes and we put on our best outfits and apply makeup (which we never do considering how hot it is). We’re ready to go out and dance the night away. We had researched the hottest bar/club in the city and we were prepared to spend the 16 cedi on a drink. Only about 30 minutes later when we’re dropped off in front of a deserted building we realized that this Thursday night might not go as we had planned.

It’s pretty typical in Ghana for websites to go un-updated, foods to not be available when they’re advertised, and drinks to run out. Anything may or may not be available. You just have to go with the flow. After having done the research we thought we were set to go, unfortunately the club was under renovations until the end of January. Might I add that it is now March 26th and Kofi Citizen Entertainment is still closed. Ghanaians also run on their own time.

After the first club was a bust we decided to walk down Oxford Street in Osu. This is easily the most happening place to be in Accra. It’s only about a 5 minute cab ride without traffic (which rarely happens). All the best restaurants, clubs, and shops are along this street. Being the new kids in town my friend and I decided to ask some random people on the street where we should go to hang out and get a drink. In the end we found two great guys that lead up to a local hot spot called Epo’s Spot. They warned us for the future that nobody really goes out Thursday nights and that Kofi Citizen was way overpriced.

Pretty much everyone in the NYU-Accra program has been to Epo’s and it turned out to be a great spot to watch the Africa Cup of Nations soccer games. It’s a cheap and chill environment with a homemade pizza stand right outside. It’s expensive but worth it on those days of indulgence.

We mainly stick to the places we know how to get to. The language barrier with the taxi drivers has put us in many predicaments over the past couple of weeks. Drivers not understanding left from right, saying they know where to go when really they don’t. A whole plethora of problems, that on a good day we just laugh off. Transportation is the only thing hindering us from stepping out and finding more hot spots.   

Picture is of the famous "Beer Tower" at Epo's

Ghanaian art is everywhere. But is it authentic Ghanaian art? The question, “what is art” is always a subjective blur no matter how many professors ask the question. Relating back to the question of authenticity, which is more authentic, the art I pass on the street every day or the art I see hung inside of a museum? I would say both, but the real genuine and interesting art (to me) is the omnipresent art I experience every day here in Ghana.

The beautiful fabrics that Ghanaian men and women wear are the first factor in bringing amazing color to the city of Accra. The fabrics are usually bright colors with traditional prints and beautiful patterns. Not only are the fabrics part of this culture, but the way in which a seamstress arranges and is able to display the fabric in a certain style is another art in its own. I have gained so much respect for designer and seamstresses all over after seeing the amazing work they do first hand. The way they arrange the fabric to create new patterns and the traditional styles of Ghanaian fashion all require an artistic touch.

Alongside the beautiful fabrics being sold at almost every street corner and Makola Market stall there is bound to be paintings, wood carved animals, and jewelry of all sorts. The paintings are actually quite beautiful and on canvas rolled up for easy transport. What we didn’t know, but learned quickly, was that these paintings are all the same and mass produced. Almost every vendor will have the same paintings and will overcharge a tourist claiming that they are “one of kind, authentic, Ghanaian paintings.” We see the same pictures of beautiful orange sunsets delicately drawn on canvas from three different street hawkers; perhaps the question of “what is art” walks a fine line here.

In the end, my experience with art has been that it is a thriving and tangible essence that thrives in the city of Accra. You can put your hand out and touch almost anything worthy of the label “art.” It doesn’t take going to the Artist Alliance or The National Museum of Ghana to feel the pulse that art has in this culture.

Picture above is of a Ghanaian Flag painted on someones garage door.
*Sorry for the late posts, I was on Spring Break!*
 
 
 

I found Dean MacCannell’s article Staged Authenticity: Arrangements of Social Space in Tourist Settings to be really interesting. Mainly because the African continent can arguably be one of the exceptions to some of the many theories he presented. Africa is not only generalized and spoken of as a country rather than the continent that it is, it also has such a vivid and preconceived image of “authenticity” that scares most tourists away. I remember telling my friends and family that I had decided to apply for NYU-Accra. Not only did most of them not know where Ghana was located in Africa, but many of them tried to hide the worried look on their faces as the African generalizations began swarming their minds.

For the most part I haven’t found Ghana to be hiding much of anything from me. From the open gutters that I see men and children peeing in every day to the mass amounts of flies lingering on the fruit that I buy from Mary, there really isn’t a sense of disgrace when it comes to some of the actions foreigners may not be used to. Sure there are always those select few places like the expensive hotels and expatriate community that try to put up a front but I think that stems more from the fact that these people are incredibly wealthy and looking to turn a foreign place into the home they were so used to.

I think to think that among all the cell phones and internet Ghana has been able to keep to her traditional customs while slowly integrating the new westernized influence that is almost inevitably happening. The dancing, texting, eating, fashion, driving, and personal interaction are the ways in which I see the real Ghana, the authentic and no-so-stereotypical West Africa that so many of my friends and family worried about before. It is almost like the reverse of what MacCannell was talking about. All we hear about in America and all over the world is the backroom dirty work that goes on in the continent of Africa, but once you get here, you realize that there is a reception and lobby in front of all the hearsay and generalities. A welcoming place that not only gives you an “authentic” experience, but isn’t even aware of it.

Just a few days ago NYU-Accra held a special screening of a documentary called An African Election. It was about the 2008 presidential elections here in Ghana. The entire film was incredibly informative about the campaigning, citizen’s opinions, voting, counting, the electoral commission, and the high tensions that rise during election season. It was during this documentary that I noticed how important and special voting is to some of the people. While I’ve heard in past that many do not vote because of the long process I have noticed that everyone is well informed of the candidates and follows politics very closely. I think this was my moment of true authenticity when the movie took a dark turn after the elections had to turn to a second round vote. Violence broke out and the competition started getting to everyone. It at this point that I think the entire audience sat at the edge of their seats wondering the same thing, could this election prove the African stereotype to be true? Will it only end in violence and riot? This is the point where Ghana proved that many of what people think is the authentic African experience most definitely is not. Ghana came together as a country and elected President Atta Mills. It was through celebration and understanding that I learned what Ghana is really capable of; unity.  

  

The first time I ever read any of Maya Angelou’s work was in 6th grade communication arts. Had I known then what I know now I might have appreciated it more. Angelou is a little deep for such an adolescent developing age. As I went back and read the fifth book in her autobiographical series I was able to relate to her beautiful words and understand them through my own personal journey here in Ghana. All God’s Children Need Travelling Shoes is about Angelou’s own time in Ghana and her every day struggles and accomplishments as she goes back to her African roots and begins learning about who she is. This was a book that not only fit in with what I am experiencing personally, but with my classes, trips, and every day interactions as well. The names of her friends, such as Kojo and Kwesi, sparked familiarity as they are common names that I sometimes hear every day, one thing I’ve noticed about Ghana is the repetition of names is incredibly common. This might be in part to their cultural naming system by what day of the week you were born. I was born on Friday so my Ghanaian name is Amma.

I have to admit the main reason why I chose the book was due to the familiarity I have with the author. Who doesn’t know of Maya Angelou? In the end I found that my familiarity may have started with only her name, but by the end of my read I felt that Angelou and I connected on a much deeper level, though her beautiful imagery and metaphors might have instigated that as well. A strong theme represented through Angelou’s work is the search for identity. I have seen this cultivated not only through me and my Native American ancestry, but through many of my peers on this trip as well. The tears that were shed as we entered Elmina Slave Castle and the fighting feeling of figuring out, “where did I come from?” is something that I feel everyone on this trip thinks about, no matter what race we are. On a more personal level I see the similarities of Native American customs and African customs everywhere I look. From something as simple as the stray dogs, goats, and chickens that roam the streets to the beautiful drumming and dancing, I did not realize the parallels my own culture shares with one that used to seem so distant. I think back to the few weeks I used to spend on the reservation every summer. My parents would ship my brother and me off and I would cry the entire time knowing that it wasn’t a place I wanted to spend my time. Angelou describes her personal journey of self-identity in a way that I was able to relate to. I think back to the days when I didn’t appreciate the rich cultural customs I was able to experience and how my own experiences in Ghana have led me back on the path to learning more about my heritage and appreciating the fact that I come from a special place, that we all do.
 
       

My roommates alarm never fails to wake me up with a voice that repeats, "It's 7:30 time to wake up." None of has figured out how to change the tone of the alarm, or maybe we're all just too lazy to care. We follow the same routin every morning. Wake up, get our malaria pills and vitamin, go downstairs, eat breakfast, take pills, and read updates on the computer while trying to wake up for the busy day ahead of us. 

I was told countless times before coming to Accra that life here runs at a different pace than I might be used to. I was told there would so much time on my hands I could take up to three naps a day. I was told that I would start up so many new hobbies with all of the free time, such as reading, writing, and blogging. For the first two weeks this is exactly what I did. Classes were still struggling to start as professors cancelled or delayed, community service and internship positions had yet to be assigned, the internet was in and out as well as the power and water. There wasn’t much to do but read and journal. Nobody told me that the first two weeks here were the exception. The first two weeks were to get our feet wet before throwing us into a hectic filled schedule just like in New York, except everyone is moving in slow motion.

Most of my days run 8am-8pm with an hour long break thrown in the mix things up. I don’t have time for even one nap unless it’s Friday or Sunday afternoon. I’ve stopped reading regularly because it only makes my lids grow heavy before 11pm. The same goes with my journal, you can visibly see where in the sentence I began dozing off through my dwindling handwriting and incoherent sentences.

My roommates and I have made it a goal to go to the gym Monday-Saturday. It’s how we start almost every day. Whether it be an aerobics or strength conditioning class at 8:30am or a five mile afternoon run on the treadmill, we have all turned to exercise as a source of some “me” time. The service at Pippa’s Gym is great and we’re already on a first name basis with most of the employees.

Pippa’s is something I do for myself. Most of that free time I had during the first two weeks disappeared when I started community service. I work with a nurse/midwife at the local Police Hospital for a foundation called Eve’s. Eve’s focuses their attention to informing young girls and women about reproductive health and pregnancy. I’ve fallen in love with the foundation and with my boss Miss Okra. I usually spend about 10 hours a week there spanned across 2-3 days depending on the week.

As much as I enjoyed the lackadaisical first few weeks here, I absolutely love how involved and comfortable with the community I’ve become. Classes always tend to fall to the back of my mind when I’m interacting with so many people and learning about their life and their every day. Being integrated into the community is a class in itself. Each day is a struggle for the cab driver to understand left from right, for me to get used to the constant honking, and for my patience to grow a little bit thicker. Every day is a learning experience despite the fact that I’ve fallen into a comfortable and routine like I do in New York. Having a busy routine only makes Accra feel more and more like home.              

I took a cab yesterday to meet up with a childhood friend that happens to be in Accra for a week. On my way home I chatted up the cab driver because it was Valentine’s Day (which is huge here in Ghana). He asked me why I was alone and I told him that my husband was back in American. He told me that he didn’t have a wife but the reason he drove the cab was so he could make lots of money and then get a wife. He spoke English with confidence and very clearly too. It wasn’t until he said, “You see, I want to touch you, but you have husband so I know that I can’t” that I lost it. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. His name is Benjamin and he is only 20 years old. I didn’t feel threatened by him and I can honestly say that I think something must have been lost in translation because he seemed confused as to why I was laughing so hard. So he said it again. “I wish I could touch you.” In the back of my head I knew I had to be careful, but I wonder if he meant this as if he wanted to give me a hug. He dropped me off and shook my hand and told me Happy Valentine’s Day, to be safe, and to friend him on Facebook. The language barrier definitely has its shining moments at times, but for the most part I find it more interesting than I do frustrating.

I’m enrolled in Intensive Twi, which meets twice a week for two hours. My professor, like all my other professors, teaches us in a very slow manner and repeats himself repeatedly. I think all 35 of us here find this incredibly irritating and hard to accept. I have to take it class by class in order to sit back and enjoy the slow pace of my three hour long lectures. Twi is probably my favorite though. Being able to learn the language at a slow pace helps me absorb it more. Twi is a language that is actually very simple. By simple I mean that it makes sense. The way the language is set up is the way language should be set up and it makes it more motivating to learn and to use it.

I love how excited Ghanaians get when we use Twi and how helpful they are when we don’t pronounce something right or when we don’t know how to say something at all. They are all my Twi professor in a way; constantly helping me communicate with others.    

The picture above is from a Saturday that I spent at the Police Hospital where a morning session of pregnancy school was being taught. This is where mothers can come and learn about giving birth and the proper ways to take care of themselves and their baby during pregnancy. The entire session was taught in Twi. The mother took notes and when I started looking around at what they had been writing down I noticed that all their notes were in written in English.

I’ve never been good with directions. I don’t know which way is which until the sun starts setting and I know that west is somewhere in that general direction. New York made this easy for me to learn and adapt do. Living on an island is really the fool proof way to learn your directions. Plus the streets numbers and avenues help too. If all else fails, google maps, and hop stop will always be my life saver.

Even something as simple as a smart phone is one thing I’ve noticed I took for granted the most out of all my electronics back home. It actually wasn’t until last night when a group of us tried to go out and watch the super bowl that I realized how cut off and stranded I feel from the world without being able to instantly look up where I was. There are only a handful of street signs that may or may not be correct, no house numbers, no cross streets, sometimes not even paved streets. So how do you find your bearings in a place that is mapped out through billboard signs and restaurant landmarks? I’ve slowly learned that you don’t.

 I can get a few choice places; the gym, academic center, Osu, a couple of bars (all which are in walking distance) and that’s about it. Take me off the route I learned and have been taking from day one and I would be so turned around I couldn’t tell you where I was. The streets don’t run parallel, there is no grid system, and the highways that we know of and have seen on a map aren’t labeled, only color coded.

It’s already become a way of life and something that I’ve accepted and stopped trying to fight. We were told at the beginning of the semester that NYU Accra used to give out maps to their students, but nobody was using them and they really were no help. How can you have a map when you have no street signs?
It’s become a daily routine of catching a cab, asking if he knows where Phoenix Insurance is in Osu (the gym is right next door), watching the confused look on his face, knowing that he doesn’t know where this is, but wants our money anyways. He finds it eventually by following the millions of signs with arrows pointing in the direction of which large landmarks are in, and then the process repeats itself when it’s time to come back home.

I realize that it’s hard not to have a humorous attitude towards the situation if even the locals don’t know where they are going. The real difference is that nobody is in a big enough hurry to care. Life in Ghana is so slow compared to life in New York. I find myself having to make a conscious effort to slow down and not get frustrated at the pace of life.

Taxis have been the main way most of us get around in Accra, but my group of friends took a tro tro for the first time this weekend on our way back from a beach trip. Tro tro’s are the public transit system that isn’t like any other you’ve seen. There are old large vans that run on a particular route. However, these routes are not marked and neither are the tro tro stops. I assume it’s just a word of mouth system that people pick up the more you use them. We were lucky enough to have a Ghanaian friend help us get on the right one and home safely.

Overall, finding my bearings in Ghana has been more about getting used to the fact that I probably will never actually “find my bearings.” It’s about going with the flow, slowing down, talking to people, being aware of your surroundings, and being patient with every situation you encounter. I can tell my body will always fight my natural instincts to know where exactly I am on a map, but I’m excited to try and let that go for the next four months.  

I spent the winter break traveling all over the United States seeing my family and spending time with them before leaving for Ghana. From New York I went up to Connecticut for a few days and endured the cold to spend a few days with my aunt, uncle, and four cousins. From there I started my travels west to Shawnee, Kansas where I spend a week with my parents, brother, and friends. The ten days to follow were spend in Seattle, Washington with my husband’s family and friends and then wrapping up my month long trip my last 10 days in the country were spent in Charleston, South Carolina. From there I traveled for 25 hours stopping in Philadelphia, Brussels, Mali, and finally landing in Accra at 8:30pm- an hour and a half later than our arrival time. Traveling quickly began to lose its romanticism and finding my home has been the only real desire I feel. Right away I put my mind to adjusting quickly and making this my home so that I can feel grounded in this constantly changing environment.  

Alain De Botton captured my feelings on travel as of late in a line on page 11, “We are familiar with the notion that the reality of travel is not what we anticipated.” What I enjoy about this particular quote is that it can be seen in both an optimistic and pessimistic light. When I think about in it a literal sense I think back to the countless hours I spent on an airplane these past couple of months and I feel like I would be happy to avoid them for the rest of this year entirely! But when I think about the memories, moments, and experiences that lie ahead of me I know that no matter what I anticipate or expect from this semester abroad the reality of what will actually happen is different.

We were told before we even got to NYU-Accra to not have any expectations, to dilute the anticipation that might be pulsing through our veins disguised as excitement. Why? Because it’s a place so foreign that no amount of pictures or words can describe the emotions and feelings evoked through the reality of our every day. Even so, you can’t help but let your subconscious run free with the hidden images of what life might be like in Accra. I know I was surprised and underwhelmed by certain aspects of NYU-Accra. The most shocking has been the academics. The size of our center, (only 4 classrooms and about the size of a small house) the size of our classes, (my largest consisting of 10) and the lackadaisical attitude towards organization have all proven that patience is the key to NYU-Accra. Patience that I sometimes find myself lacking when it comes to the pace in which my professors speak, the lack of water my house has, the lack of electricity my house has, the lack of internet my house has, and the lack of air-conditioning my house has. All of these things are things that I never anticipated happening and did. But each of these unanticipated actions has already taught me a strong lesson in appreciation only three weeks into the program. I’ve already learned to lighten up, laugh when my water shuts off mid shower and think about how this is everyday life for this entire continent and only five months for me.

Perhaps the presence of expectations and anticipation is what helps put things into perspective. Your environment doesn’t adapt to you, but you adapt to your environment. Whether you are pleased or disappointed, there’s always a lesson to be learned and a lesson to grow from. And isn’t that why we travel to begin with?   

*A picture from Shai Hills Resource Reserve, a two hour long hike we took on Saturday*

My family was pretty puzzled when they found out I had not only applied but been accepted into NYU Accra. The only form of congratulations I received was a simple, “Why?” Can I blame them? Not really, it’s understandable. They weren’t against the decision by any means, and I have to admit this decision came without a hint of warning. Why would I want to go from luxurious New York City where I have every amenity at my disposal to third world Ghana?

Hi everyone, I’m Maggie and I’m spending my semester in Accra, Ghana. Not because I’m studying public health or social justice (my concentration is the opposite actually, Graphic Design) and not because I want to join an NGO in hopes of changing the world one orphan at a time (though it would be nice). No, I decided to come to Ghana mostly because of the culture and beautiful photographic landscapes. I would be lying if I didn’t mention that putting myself in such a vulnerable and extreme situation was also incredibly appealing. Being a Native American I have always found myself being pulled towards other cultures and digging for the comparison it might have to my own, which I am pretty far removed from. It wasn’t until two summers ago when I moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico and really integrated myself with my Navajo half that I realized how similar third world living conditions are to the living conditions of the reservation.

So here I am in Ghana and I’ve got to say it hasn’t been as hard of an adjustment as I thought it was going to be. Little things like the multiple power outages every single day, and the lack of a stable internet connection are what have been getting to me the most. I’ve had the power go out during my shower twice in the week that I’ve been here. Everything here is much easier when you have a good sense of humor about it and just let it roll off your back. It’s also hot and humid, and I’m convinced the mosquitos are out to get me.

A little about me: I’m (almost) 21 years old and I’m from Shawnee, Kansas. I think that answers the question as to why I wanted to so desperately to come to New York City. I’ve always enjoyed traveling and while I’ve only been to Ireland, Costa Rica, Mexico, and Canada (if those last two even count) I still like to consider myself well-traveled for my age. I love just about every subject I take and I finally landed in Gallatin with a concentration in Graphic Design, Photography, and Creative Writing. Overall, I really enjoy digital art and communication. I’ve been married for about eight months to the guy I grew up across the street from. We’re used to long distance (usually seeing him about once a month when I’m in school) but this will definitely be an adventure! He has a job in the Navy teaching the math and physics of nuclear power. A lot of people find it a little weird and shocking that I’m married at such a young age so I thought I’d get it out in the open!

Anyways, I’m really excited to be here in Ghana and I’ve already started noticing lots of differences and similarities to home. I’ve heard that patience is the key to surviving here and that has already proven to be true. With so much free time on my hands I’ve really turned to my journal and reading as a therapeutic way to handle such a dramatic change. I finished the first Hunger Games book in 2 days and I’m off to start to second one now. Team Peeta all the way!