Slarks's blog

I honestly cannot believe it is the final week of my semester abroad in Ghana. Looking back at August, 14 weeks seemed so far away. Our director recently told us that we had all changed since arriving. I probably will not really notice these changes until I arrive home but what I can say now is that I have learned a lot this semester. I came to Accra knowing nothing about the country, culture or city. Through my classes and own experiences moving around the city, I now know more than I ever thought I would. This immersion has been one of the most rewarding experiences of living in Accra.

More than anything I think I will remember the people in the program. One of the things we are all most looking forward to is seeing each other in New York. A benefit of having such a small program- its possible to fit everyone in one room. I am amazed at the comraderie that developed and how fast it did within our group. Like others have said, what I love about abroad is that people who would never meet in New York become the closest of friends when in a smaller setting and tackling the unknown together. (the photo displays one of our many great adventures together)

This semester has caused me to think and reflect more than any other. And I do not mean through my classes only. Simply walking down the street, I can immediately jump into a stream of thought, reaching for my notebook to start jotting down questions and ideas that I am having. I am hoping that even when at home and back in New York I will be as observant as I am here and not simply blindly meander down the streets. My volunteering experience at an orphanage here helped me to feel like I was doing something worthy with my time as well as teaching me so much. I realize now how easy life in New York can actually be and the challenges that I have faced this semester, and that I see others face, though tough at times, have greatly benefitted me in the end. 

This class has helped a lot to organize my impressions of Ghana. I would definitely recommend this class to others who are going abroad because while it can be a little tough to keep up with at times, it helps to be able to reflect on your experiences. It is also both helpful and interesting to read other people’s blogs.

While improvements can probably be made to the program, I am never really good at pointing out areas of need when I have had an overall good semester myself. It was different, which is what I think most people look for when going abroad. Everyone is excited to go home but for some, myself included, will miss our life here. It has been a slow paced but never boring lifestyle.
 
 
(own photo of the group in our African best at our rural home stay) 

You need to have an open mind. Ghana is great if you understand that it is going to be different. You will live your life differently here so it is best to realize that before hand and not waste time trying to continue your New York ways here.
 I wish someone had told me that there were going to be maintenance issues. Perhaps subconsciously in the back of my mind I knew it, since I was not too surprised when they told us that things work a little differently here. But it would have been nice to be a little bit more prepared to face no running water, very slow Internet, and appliances often breaking. The staff is very good though at acknowledging the problems and I believe that they do their best to get it solved as fast as they can.
Bring books! I really wish someone had warned me that book stores are very rare in Ghana. I would have brought many more. The school library has a reasonable collection but you will be glad to have brought along some from home. We have created our own little mini book exchange this semester and shared amongst ourselves. They definitely help with the exhausting bus rides and nice to read in the sun. 
Be prepared to eat a lot of starch. And carbohydrates. I think many people, myself included, envision coming back from Ghana two sizes smaller from all the great food they will eat. And while a lot of the Ghanaian food is good- it is made to help you grow “big and strong” so is filled with palm oil and lots of heavy starch.
Embrace your “natural” beauty. Ghana is hot. Very hot. And especially for those of you coming in the spring semester, the hottest month is March. Prepare for 90 degree weather almost every day. As part of that, learn to love constantly sweating. It is a fact that all of us here have come to accept and embrace. Along with this, let all your inhibitions go. The climate, diet and lifestyle take some getting used to, so your body is going to adjust. It happens to everyone and creates an excellent bonding experience. We probably all know far too much about our bodily workings, but I think that it has made us better friends in the end.
Carry toilet paper wherever you go. I really cannot stress this enough. I wish someone had told me this before and I could have avoided some uncomfortable situations. There are a lot of long bus rides, which include far from adequate bathrooms, or the bush itself. Having toilet paper with you will help a bit in that tricky situation. But don’t worry, you will be a pro- squatter by the time you leave. 
I hope people aren’t turned off by my suggestions because I would definitely recommend this site. It has been an incredible experience and one that I think everyone, especially those going to school in New York, should have. It is eye opening and has caused me to think more about life and the world than anything else. However, having said that, it takes a certain person to enjoy it. There are some people in the program that I wonder why they came to Ghana. But like I said, if you have an open mind and are willing to be a little uncomfortable, it can be the best semester of your 4 years. 

Americans are rushed. Especially New Yorkers. Even living in Boston, I had to speed up my pace considerably when I moved to New York. I was one of those people who took my time when I walked. Crazy right? Now I sigh loudly in frustration at tourists in New York who stop in the middle of the street and disturb my brisk pace to get to wherever I am going. Regardless of how important the destination is, I always hurry to get there. So I, like most people did not change my ways when I came to Ghana and instead tried to implement it here. But I was wrong.  That is not possible. No matter what you do, you cannot bring real time to Ghanaian time.
Ghanaian time is its own entity. There are no rules. No schedules. The stores on the street open when they happen to get there and close when they feel like leaving. The tro-tro’s which are the main mode of transportation for people have no set times what so ever. In a way it is like the subway when you simply go to the stop and wait for one to come because they generally come every few minutes. Except that with tro-tros you can also dictate where they go. On our way back from Togo a few weeks ago we were in a tro-tro and instead of going to the main station in Accra where all the tro-tros are, we asked the driver if he would take us to Labone, the area of Accra that we live in. And he did. Try doing that with the subway or bus driver in New York. I don’t think you will get very far.
Like most taxi’s in the world, they want to get you to your destination quickly so that they can pick up someone else. In Ghana though, they are much more proactive in this manner. To save time, the taxi driver will go around traffic, through red lights, honking all the way to let drivers know that he is coming and get you to where he needs to go. I don’t understand how, but I am pretty sure that every time I am in a taxi, it is my taxi that is the one that gets through first, around the traffic.
Speaking of traffic, something that has significantly slowed down time even more is the increased traffic that occurs in Accra as Christmas approaches. They say it is because many more people come into the city for the holidays. And while I understand that people are coming to see family etc, I do not get why the traffic drastically changes so much. Are these visitors driving around all in separate cars all day long with nothing else to do? And yet I am not surprised and just add it to the list of Ghana's nuances. We have a schedule for the van that takes us to the grocery store 3 times a week and to the university etc. but it has become obsolete because nothing do with time can be predicted in Ghana. There are far to many variables not within your control that can affect it.
I have become accustomed to Ghanaian time now though and I may find it difficult to get back into the brisk pace and schedule heavy lifestyle of America. I may begin going to class when I feel like it, or stopping randomly in the street. Or even demanding a bus take me to my exact address instead of the designated stop three blocks away. 

As I am sure it has been mentioned before, Ghanaians are very friendly. Therefore it is hard for anyone to be a stranger to you for long. For instance, during our rural home stay a few weekends ago, the instant we stepped off the bus the entire community rushed towards us, arms open wide to hug us. They had no idea who we were and they were still so gracious to take us in and treat us like family- a typical example of Ghanaian hospitality. However, as NYU checks all their liabilities and follows policies, during our first week orientation we received a lot of “stranger danger” lectures. “Don’t get into a taxi alone at night if you are a girl!” “Don’t get into a car with a stranger!” “Don’t walk with your bag on the street side!” What? I thought people would be nice in Ghana. Was I wrong? The excitement that I had originally felt about coming to Ghana was fading as they bombarded me with warnings of all the dangers I would encounter. So in my best efforts I tried to take what they were saying with a large grain of salt.
A couple weeks into the semester I was going to my volunteering in the morning. I usually go with another girl but she was sick on this day. I only had enough money to get there if I had to pay the taxi alone meaning I was forced to go to the ATM beforehand. I am sure you all have realized the toll that ATM transaction fees can take on your bank account. I have learned my lesson from when I was abroad in Florence and so now only use the bank Barclays because they are associated with Bank of America and then I don’t get charged. So you can imagine my extra disappointment this day when I had to not only pay the entire cab fare but also use the bank by my house, which would charge me a fee. I walk up to the ATM and even as I approached I knew. The machine was down. Just my luck! I turn from the machine to see a Ghanaian young man standing there and he asks, “Is it broken?” I respond with a disgruntled “Yes” and walk to the edge of the street. The man then comes up to me and says, “so we go to another machine?” I ask where and he responds, “Osu”. Osu is a the main street in Accra and a taxi ride away which immediately causes my NYU flags to go up in my head. “Don’t get into a car with a stranger!” I avoid eye contact and look around saying something about how I can’t because I have to be somewhere. Then I hear, “but where will you transact?” I am about to say something when I sigh and simply shrug, because he is right. Where will I transact? I don’t know any banks around my volunteer site and I definitely do not want to be stranded up there, but with my guard still up I snap back “I’ll figure it out”. To which he hails a cab immediately and says, “lets go”. Defeated, I give in and get into the cab. Once in Osu, he pays for the cab, declining my offer to split it and I go to the ATM at Barclays (no fee!). He starts to follow me and I begin to think of what I will have to say to get rid of him at which point he just uses the ATM and says goodbye.
It was one of the most sincere and nicest things a stranger has done for me. While NYU is right in many of the cautions they give us and I do still have my guard up and my eyes peeled, I have learned to relax a little and give people the benefit of the doubt until a problem actually arises. Ever since my ATM man, I have come to often, in the words of Blanche Dubois, depend on the kindness of strangers. 

I have never really been much of a hand talker. Even in restaurants I am weary of raising my hand to get a waiters attention for the check. But like most aspects of my life, in Ghana, it’s different. I was lucky when I came to Ghana that there was no language barrier. Instead, I learned a non-verbal language of signing with my hands. During our orientation week, a whole segment was set aside to teach us these hand signals. At first I thought, how different could they be or how often will I use them considering I don’t ever really use it at home? After three months of being here though I have discovered how vital it is to not only understand these signals but utilize them as well.

Ghanaians are very animated communicators. They use their hands and sounds almost more than words. In fact I could probably get an entire point across without any words.

I wave my hand up and down slightly in a slight fanning motion to attract the taxi’s attention. I wave my fingers up and down in what appears to me as a wave goodbye but to Ghanaians signifies “come”.

This waving hand is very common and a range of people have done it to me from teachers to street vendors to children. I often find myself waving my hand in that motion when saying good-bye, as that is what I am used to, not realizing that I am actually saying something else entirely. Only when the person starts advancing towards me do I realize my mistake.

However, if I want to give my hand a rest, I can simply hiss. While it may sound incredibly rude and degrading, as I thought that as well at first, this is the best way to get someone’s attention. It is used often in restaurants to get the waiters attention but can also be seen on the streets when you want to flag someone down.

With over 40 languages spoken in Ghana these signals represent the Ghanaian spirit and transcend language with no translation required. No matter what part of Ghana you are in, sounds and hand motions will not fail you. I am proud that I have become so accustomed to Ghanaian life that I can take part in the genius loci. I feel as if it is some secret language that I now can understand. I just hope that when I am back in New York the taxi will understand and stop when I hiss and wave. 

Ghana has a rich traditional culture that still pertains today. While Accra is a pretty cosmopolitan city, traditional cultural aspects are kept here more than other places I have been.  One of the ways that these aspects have remained prevalent is through story telling. Although earlier storytelling was a part of life, it is becoming more and more obsolete in the modern culture. While more apparent in the rural areas, the practice is fading in the urban areas. “The rich knowledge and experience found in traditional stories are gradually being lost and people will be emotionally and intellectually poorer for this” (xxvii) The anthology, Once Upon a Time in Ghana is an anthology of traditional Ewe stories retold in English. Ewe is one of the ethnic groups in Ghana who are from the Volta region in the east of the country.
When I picked up the book I expected the stories to be very mythical and unlike anything that I had ever read before. But as I began reading through them they became recognizable. At first I thought it was because they resembled the Aesop Fables of my childhood, but then I realized it was more than that. The stories seemed familiar because the majority of the morals, and values that were told were ones that are so engrained in Ghanaian culture, even today.
For example, living in Ghana you realize pretty quickly how important having a family is. There is a heavy emphasis placed on kinship and the lineage you come from. Familial roles are also very strong. As it says in one story, “what terrible sin has been committed in one of their families that they should not have children” (138). While this idea is told in a story and slightly exaggerated it is not uncommon in reality either. Often when a woman does not have any children, it is thought that she is cursed or perhaps has upset the ancestors. Traditionally, the husband could divorce her because of this reason or his family could demand an end to the marriage. Having lived in the western world for my entire life, it baffles me that such a heavy importance, and therefore burden and expectation is placed on having children. The fact that a woman has pretty much no choice in her conception habits seems a breech of human rights in my western eyes, accentuated by my lack of desire to have children myself.
But the ideas are beginning to change. In modern, urban areas of Ghana there are many people who do not live in complete compliance with these expectations. As globalization increases and Ghana becomes more apart of the global sphere, there are many woman who are beginning to focus more on their career and have less children on their own terms. In the rural areas, however, this is the not majority. Perhaps that is why the art of storytelling is beginning to fade in urbanized Ghana but remains in the rural. 
I understand now why the anthology was compiled- as an attempt to hold on to a bit of tradition in a modernizing world. As one of the editors wrote of the stories: “Do not relegate and restrict them to ‘once upon a time’. Let this time-honored phrase, known and beloved to us all everywhere, retain its magic as the password that opens the door to an enchanted and enthralling world” (xxviii). 

As others from Ghana I am sure have stated, the great “good” places are few and far between here in Ghana. And while attempts have been made to create these places, they are only an effort to appease the desires of the ex patriots now living in Accra, looking for a taste of home. I think the foreigners here, as I know we from NYU are as well, are shocked as to how the locals survive without these places. But I have come to realize that Ghanaians do not realize that anything is missing. For them, the local chop bar where they can catch up with neighbors and friends over a bowl of groundnut soup with fufu, about what is going on in their village or town holds the same value. Similarly, the marketplace where news and gossip are shared serves this purpose. The idea of a great good place is that it is a quiet place where you can relax, get some reading or work done and enjoy some people watching.
 
But I think the lack of these places is because the entire Ghanaian lifestyle already is what a great good place attempts to create. They do not need a specific place to unwind because the pace is so leisurely here that what would they wind down from? In New York my life is so fast paced that I enjoy the coffee shop vibe of chill music, sipping my drink while I read something seemingly intellectual. But here my walk to class in the hot West African Sun is my break time. I don’t listen to my iPod like I would in New York so as not to attract any more attention to myself. So instead I listen to the conversations on the street around me. The group at the barber shop sitting together having their morning conversation. The fact that I cannot understand a word they are saying adds to the experience as it becomes more like music and less distracting. I am not eavesdropping but enjoying the sound of the Akan language.
 
But, while I can enjoy this Ghanaian version of the great good place, my western self of course still craves what I am used to. For one reason or another, I have never been able to be very productive at home. I need to go somewhere public or just somewhere else to do work. I have to get dressed, be awake and leave. With the lack of public places to do work in Ghana I have found a haven in the NYU academic center. There are couches set up outside in the shade that are perfect for some fresh-air reading. It is open until midnight every day of the week and is my own little Bobst late at night. I am usually the only person there, which is just as well since it is such a small space. But while there are not any people so it isn’t exactly “public”, it still is not my house and has that academia feel that can allow me to do my work in silence. Like almost everything else that I have found in Ghana, it may not be exactly what you are expecting, but if you look hard enough, you can find the equivalent to what you want. After all, when in Ghana…
 

I reluctantly admit that I have only been to one art museum since being in Ghana. It was the Artists Alliance Gallery during orientation week and it was incredible. The man who started the gallery still paints today in his old age of 77, and continues to contribute to the collection. In fact a whole room is his work alone. The paintings in the museum are very colorful. Somehow, even the black and white paintings burst with color and seem anything but bland in comparison to the rainbow paintings surrounding them.
My experience with structured Ghanaian art presentation may be limited but art can be found in so many more places than that. The fabric patterns alone are works of art as well as the design of the outfit. On our weekend trip to Kumasi we went to the village where Kente cloth (the traditional cloth of the Akan people) is made. It is a beautiful woven cloth with different colorful patterns. This same village is where the dye for the Adinkra symbols is made. Adinkra symbols are from the ancient Akan and each have their own meaning ranging from hope to leadership to always with god. These symbols can be found pretty much everywhere in Ghana, from bumper stickers to tattoos to plastic chairs. and demonstrate the continuation of tradition in Ghanaian society. Everywhere you look there is an ancient symbol that means so much. Everywhere you look is art.
 
Last night I managed to get to an art exhibition opening that one of our RA’s art work was being displayed in. When I think of art exhibitions in America I imagine white rooms where each piece has its own light and its own focus. The room is completely bare except for the art. However, this exhibition was unlike my expectation and yet I really should not have been surprised. It was displayed exactly how art is in Ghana everywhere else- it was simply around. Everywhere you went in this small building there was a piece of art work that was part of the show. Next to the bathroom, on the wall next to the cashier, round the corner on the balcony, it was everywhere. Sometimes hidden almost that you felt these artists were not getting the attention they deserved. But as I looked around at the other people there, no one seemed to be bothered by it. It was simply art being displayed in a building, no need to put it in an empty room with the focus solely on it, the art itself drew enough attention to it. It created its own focus, without fancy lighting and whitewashed walls. It was refreshing to see art take on such a power of its own and reminded me of how it can be found almost anywhere if you just pay attention. 

(own photo from the Ashanti village where Kente and Adinkra cloth is made)

When I first moved to New York , I was told to never look up- or else I would look like a tourist. But I had just moved there, so although my stay was going to be longer than a week, I was, for all intensive purposes at that time, a tourist.  This leads me to ask the question: Where is the line drawn between a tourist and a local? How long does one have to be there, or how many restaurant recommendations and directions does one have to give, before they are considered worthy of a non-touristic label? My roommate in New York has now lived there for a year, and I can tell you without a doubt that she would not be able to give anyone directions because she cabs everywhere and therefore never knows how to get anywhere. But is she a tourist?
Before arriving to Ghana I tried to imagine that because I was going to live there for four months and not on vacation, that I would not be a tourist. Dean MacCannell takes a rather pessimistic approach to tourism when he says, “the touristic experience that comes out of the tourist setting is based on inauthenticity” (599). While there can be a certain valor in this belief in that you are not trying to kid yourself about what you will see. But I can’t help but think this is just setting yourself up for disappointment. If I go into it thinking that everything I experience will be inauthentic, then why go at all? And even though tourist sites can be “cheesy” or “tacky” (599), they are still real. The Grand Canyon is not fake, nor is the Great Wall of China or Buckingham palace. These and other typical tourist attractions are the real thing, hence their appeal. Just because they are not a part of natives’ daily lives, does not make it any less authentic.
After being in Ghana for two months now I have been re-examining my tourist status. I believe I have developed a mix feeling of tourist and resident. At times I feel very comfortable here and go about my daily routine and refer to my house here as “home”. But at the same time, being called a foreigner on a daily basis on the street and the simple fact that I will never blend in, inhibit me from completing the full transition to resident or local. In Ghana, all taxi prices are negotiable. But being a foreigner, you have to know what sort of price it should be to prevent them from completely ripping you off. In order to get from Labone (where I live) to Osu (an area about ½- 1 mile away) it should cost about 3 cedi. However, being an obruni it can be difficult sometimes to get that price. We cheer and pat ourselves on the back when we are able to negotiate for 3 cedi. I think, alright, I am now a local. That is until I take a cab with a Ghanaian. The ATM machine was down one day and a man who also needed the ATM suggested we go to Osu to another bank. The first cab we get into, he barely says anything to the driver beyond where we are going and when we get there he hands the driver 2 cedi. Two! My accomplishment of obtaining three immediately was thwarted, as I realized even with that result, I am still a tourist- just visiting for a long, long time.  
But that is okay. Because of the positive side of tourism: “tourists enter tourist areas precisely because their experiences there will not, for them, be routine” (601). It may be a rip off or tacky to some, but tourist experiences are always something our of the ordinary for the tourist- which is really the only opinion that matters. So go ahead, look up all you want. 

(my own photo of me being incredibly touristy learning how to stamp Adinkra symbols in the Ashanti region)

For my first book I chose In Search of Africa by Manthia Diawara. While the book is not about Ghana specifically and rather follows Diawara’s return to Guinea, there is a lot to relate to. However, to stay within the realm of blogging, I will focus on one aspect that was particularly interesting. In his discussion of West African Markets, Diawara states “the markets have an order that is one of inclusion, regardless of one’s class and origin, regardless of whether one is a buyer or a flaneaur” (152). While the markets here can be a place of stress and anxiety due to their size and busyness, I can relate to his evaluation. Of course at the market, I am an “obruni” or foreigner and stand out, but I am also included. My attention, and more importantly wallet, is sought after just like anyone else’s. Beyond buying and selling, the market is a place for conversation and relations. While many people are trying to get you to buy their product, there are just as many who want to get to know you, even if just a little, before you go on your way.
This is especially interesting in contrast to something else that Diawara notes. He says that “walking down the streets of Greenwich Village, where I now live, I feel as if I do not exist, because I am a man whose past no one knows” (12). I immediately both recognized and was confused by the statement. On the one hand, this feeling would not happen in West Africa. There is such a sense of comradery that after being here for only a short while, one feels they belong. But Diawara has lived in the United States for many years and still feels as if he not only doesn’t belong-does not even exist because no one knows his past. What perpetuates his problem is how closed off from strangers Americans are. We learn at a young age, “stranger danger” and that seems to continue on to adult hood, not necessarily manifested in fear but in indifference to those around us.
Timing was on my side this week as Manthia Diawara was in Accra for a film festival and came to our staff meeting to speak with us. He said that “in America two individuals would not even sit next to each other, but in traveling, you become brothers.”  I can attest to this statement as in America I would not even look many people in the eye on the street, let alone engage in conversations, exchange names and histories. The vibe of the West African market place extends beyond its borders to where Ghana in its entirety has an order of inclusion. I stand out, but I am included. And while they may not know my past, the opportunity to learn about it and validate my existence is there, and arises far more often than it ever has in New York. The markets here are where people connect unlike they would anywhere else. For Americans, it takes traveling for us to be brothers, but in West Africa, it requires only a visit to the market. As they say in West Africa, “Visit the market and see the world” (152). 

From my experiences of being abroad I have found that it does not stop feeling like a vacation and start feeling like home until you find your routine. Your fixed program. I wake up in the morning and turn on the sink to see if we have running water. In the case we do not, (which is often) I walk across to another house to use their water. I come back and make breakfast, take my malaria medicine and head to school.
I have come to realize that it is definitely a much more relaxed lifestyle here. I don’t feel the need to go out all the time and often find myself in bed rather early. I wake up early without fail due to the large window by my bed which lets the extremely bright sunshine in. But so far I am liking this lifestyle- sort of makes me look forward to retiring as I feel that it will be somewhat like this.
What helps with my routine is that in Ghana they seem to follow the same logic. I can count on the same people, being in the same place at the same time. There is the guard Martha that I say goodbye to as I leave the housing compound for school in the morning. I walk the same route to school, down the dirt road with the rooster, while listening to my soundtrack of taxi honks and fan ice bike horns. Then when I turn the corner, if I have the time, I say hello to Auntie Lydia who sells plantains. I say if I have time because once you say hi, you are in for at least a five-ten minute Twi conversation. But this is really more like a lesson as I do not know very much Twi, but she is insistent that we all learn. Which I am grateful for, but sometimes it is frustrating to not understand. Next, Uncle Tagoe greets me at the gate, “SamSam!”. He says my name twice as a way to make up for never remembering it during the first few weeks. Later in the day I visit Mary at the end of the road for some fruit. Before asking me what I would like, a brief“hello, how are you” in Twi is compulsory. However, this I do not mind as it only requires the few phrases in Twi that I can actually remember. It is the people, I have found, that make my unfamiliar, familiar. When I see their smiling faces, a sense of relief comes over me and I feel safe. The everyday life may be predictable but, in many ways, it is soothing and it is the people that I encounter in my daily routine that help to make it that way.
After Mary, I head home following the same dirt road with taxi’s honking incessantly, assuming I need one since I am a foreigner. But I don’t need a taxi, because I am simply following my routine. I am walking home. 

(my own photo of the street I walk to school on)

How do we communicate? I have begun to unravel this question more and more since my arrival in Ghana. I had never thought about it much before on a basic level of person-to-person contact. Not until I was confronted with something different.
 
I tend to think that if someone speaks English, then they automatically speak my English. That all the slang, phrases and sarcasm that I use, they too will understand. Not the case. I have been finding that certain, what I thought common, phrases do not transfer to here. I will be in a taxi and say “pull up on the right” but the driver understands that as “turn right”. I have had to learn to say sternly, or sometimes yell, stop, in order for them to pull over.
 
Similarly I have found it difficult to decipher how to decline politely. In the states when you are cat called at or rudely spoken too on the street, you put your head down or face forward and surge ahead, ignoring the unwanted comment. However, it is more complicated in Ghana as some of the people who are doing the calling are old women in the market who want to get your attention so you will look at their goods. And while I may not want what they are selling, I feel rude not responding to their seemingly innocent question of “how are you? What is your name?” Where is the line between a friendly conversation and soliciting business? With this in mentality, I find myself saying “no thank you”, to men who are grabbing my arm on the street. Were I home and someone did that I would have a very different reaction of anger and strength. But here I am so aware that I am just visiting and so feel the need to be polite at all times, even where I really should not be. 

The official language of Ghana is English. However, I tend to take that general sweeping statement as true for everyone. This therefore makes me lazy as I think that I do not have to learn anything, being a native English speaker. The more educated people have a wide vocabulary of English and so it is not too much of an issue, but the sellers on the street know what they need in order to conduct business and not much else. I find myself therefore only speaking English. But I am a visitor to their country, which makes me think that the effort should go both ways. If they can make the effort to use English for me, likely their only English customer, then I can learn the basic traditional language for them.
 
Meda ase.

(Twi for Thank you)
 
 

I tend to think of myself as pretty good with directions. And this is not an irrational description- this is based on experience. I get my bearings quickly and know my way around. However, what I did not understand to be a vital part of my “knowing my way around” was street names. I think and give directions using street names. They have never not been available to me so I never even thought to realize how essential they really were. Until Ghana.
 
If you look at a map of Accra, each street it labeled and it looks simple enough to find your way around. But unless you are in a helicopter and can see the city from a bird’s eye view, the map is going to be essentially useless. Almost every street is not labeled. This makes finding your way rather difficult. Here, it is landmarks that are essential to directions. Not street names. When figuring out how to walk from my house to the academic center, we figured out the route by saying, “you take a left at the end of the road, a right at the pink wall, a right at the construction house and a left at the painted water melon in the gutter”. And while that may sound confusing and vague to you, those are actually very precise instructions.

And it is not just newcomers, like myself, that use this system. Even the locals do not refer to the street names, and many I fear do not even know they have names. When asking how to get to my volunteer site, our coordinator (a local Ghanaian) gave directions using phrases like “go straight down the straight road” (okay…) , “right at traffic light” (um which traffic light?), “there is a Total station” (yes there are about 50 Total gas stations in Accra). And yet, somehow we find our way. When in the actual situation it works. I knew the traffic light when I saw it and for one reason or another, knew it was the right one. 
 
Maybe street signs are not so necessary after all, and in some way can be a hindrance from experiencing a place. I have found that for one because I am new, I pay a lot more attention to my surroundings to figure out where I am and even more so because I have to notice not just a small sign that I know exactly what it will look like, but something actually within the scenery. In a way, it is like a giant Where’s Waldo game. Finding that one significant item amongst a crowded landscape. And if I lose, hey, to figure out where you’re going, sometimes you have to get lost.
 

Alain de Botton is correct in his writing about how travel is not all that it seems. Or rather that it is more. That the beautiful photographs, exciting stories and exotic souvenirs, while not false, are not nearly the entire story.  De Botton states, “if our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest- in all its ardor and paradoxes- than our travels” (9). Travelling is not glamorous. Despite the glossy stories that surround it, the reality, once all the details have been put together is that travel takes effort. It is tiring.
 
I have been travelling all my life thanks to my parents. But it was not until I was older and began to travel on my own that I realized all that goes into it. Beyond all the logistical tasks of packing, figuring out where to stay, transportation etc. it is a lot of mental work as well. Last week we had an “Adjusting to Ghana” workshop where they explained the 4 stages of being abroad. The first is honeymoon, followed by hostility, humor and finally home. Having been in Ghana for a month now I am beginning to realize that I had been in the honeymoon stage for a while. I was so awed and amazed by everything that I was looking at, I wasn’t really seeing.  I wasn’t questioning the fact that next to a lavish house, there is a small fruit stand where a young girl sells fruit to support her family. It didn’t phase me that I will be next to a large bank and then see young children running around, half clothed and barefoot on a dirt road.
 
But now, I am starting to see. I am noticing more and more the way Ghana is a blend of so many things. That I will see a shiny Mercedes drive by, immediately followed by three taxis with broken lights and rusting doors. Every city has slums and poverty and I did not expect Ghana to be any different in this respect. However, what I did not expect is for it to be right on top of the grandeur of the city. Like other urban sites, I thought it would be separate, away from the everyday eye. This is the effort of travelling in Ghana. The realization that I need to think about everything that I see and not just let it pass by. To ask questions and engage.
 
The beautiful pictures that you see of Ghana are real. I have seen some of those places already. I hope to see more of those places, but I also am lucky to be able to have a true travel experience and make the well worth it effort to discover the dynamics and paradoxes of searching for happiness. 


(my own photo)

Hello, hello, hello!
My name is Sam and I am a junior at NYU studying Media, Culture and Communications in the Steinhardt School. I was born in South Africa, where all my family is from, and also lived in England for a few years. As of now though, I live in Boston, Massachusetts. As part of the Liberal Studies Program, I studied in Florence, Italy for my entire freshman year of university. As you may be able to tell, I love to travel. This semester I am studying abroad again, this time in Accra, Ghana.
 
When I would tell people that I was going abroad in the fall, it was always the same. Their faces would light up in excitement as they asked the natural succeeding question of “Where?!” and I would immediately respond with enthusiasm and confidence, “Ghana!” I wouldn’t exactly say that their expressions fell necessarily, but a definite combination of disappointment and confusion would come over their face; followed by the ‘I’m trying to be nice, but really don’t understand why you would want to go there’ phrase of “ooohhh….wow. Okay…”. After the first few dozen times of hearing this reaction I would simply shrug my soldiers and say the only thing that I felt could be said-
 
“Yup.”
 
“So what are you going to do there?” is always what follows, as if, just because it is not Europe I need some specific purpose. It must be community service they all think. But I am here to study. Just like any other study abroad program.
 
Except that NYU in Ghana is not just like any other study abroad program. We don’t have hundreds of kids in our group. We are a modest and close 32. No one school of NYU is dominant here. We have a small sampling of almost every one. We are not attempting to see as many countries in four months as we can. But rather truly immerse ourselves in the Ghanaian culture through internships, home stays and excursions throughout the country.
 
We all have our reasons for choosing to study abroad and for the location we decided on. I am not entirely sure why I chose Ghana in the beginning, and I know my reasons have and will change over time, but I also know that I am in the right place. And I am determined, hopefully with a little help from this blog, that I will be able to prove to those disappointed and confused skeptics that I made the right choice. That far from being disappointing, Accra actually is the perfect place to study abroad. I look forward to reading all of your adventures and hope that you will enjoy mine.
 
Yebehyia bio! (Talk to you soon!)