.jpg)
Something's Just Not Right
How the Accra Mall convinced me I didn't miss America
It felt eerie, almost, like we had walked onto a movie set and no one knews it but us. The moment you cross the threshold, a blast of cool AC hits your face, and your ears are assaulted by 90’s pop music. Suddenly, only half the people around you are Ghanaian; everyone else is some variation of Caucasian, with a few Asians here and there. The Accra Mall wasn’t really built for the citizens of Accra; it’s an ex-pat sanctuary, almost right but slightly off, when the only Ghanaians you see are behind the cash register. In a place that has everything from a food courts to a pseudo-Walmart, it is in theory what every foreigner wishes for. Home away from home.
But, slightly off. The ice cream stall only sells strawberry soft serve, the price of peanut butter and Pringles have sky rocketed. Brands are unfamiliar and the fruit is twice the price compared to the woman who sells fruit by the academic center. Water is far cheaper to purchase at the small convenience store down the road. No one is wearing African print, and everyone murmurs in near silence, in English. No one greets each other they way they do shopping on the street, and there’s definitely no bargaining.
In fact, its easy to forget you are in Africa at all, that this strange in between reality is just an odd and jarring moment before you walk back out in the world of share taxis and trotro, into blazing sun and women hawking snacks from huge tin trays balanced on their heads, held perfectly erect as they weave through traffic. Inside the Accra Mall, one has the acute feeling that something is missing, that this isn’t how shopping is supposed to be here. Its oddly sterile, and artificial, especially when a short walk from the mall reveals open gutters, small shacks, chop bars and children chasing chickens.
But this mall is the shining example of development, a sure sign that prosperity has come, in the form of overpriced mall Chinese food and an Apple store. Its easy to succumb to the lure of the mall, turn the semester into a four month long recreation of suburban America, ignoring the myriad of things going on just outside. You could only eat American food, only listen to American music, go to bars and watch sports. You gain the skill of bringing home with you no matter where you go.
There’s another skill, however, waiting to be cultivated here in Accra. The art of leaving home completely, and giving yourself over to the outside world. Leave your computer and your dorm, take to the streets with your camera and a sense of enthusiasm. Forget about your email and your iPod and instead spend hours at the open market, or even just read a book on the curb instead of inside your ten-foot walls. You may not have the most comfortable time, but you’ll have better stories. And you might just find that home isn’t American food and the flag- home is where you give yourself to the place.
(Image is my own)
But, slightly off. The ice cream stall only sells strawberry soft serve, the price of peanut butter and Pringles have sky rocketed. Brands are unfamiliar and the fruit is twice the price compared to the woman who sells fruit by the academic center. Water is far cheaper to purchase at the small convenience store down the road. No one is wearing African print, and everyone murmurs in near silence, in English. No one greets each other they way they do shopping on the street, and there’s definitely no bargaining.
In fact, its easy to forget you are in Africa at all, that this strange in between reality is just an odd and jarring moment before you walk back out in the world of share taxis and trotro, into blazing sun and women hawking snacks from huge tin trays balanced on their heads, held perfectly erect as they weave through traffic. Inside the Accra Mall, one has the acute feeling that something is missing, that this isn’t how shopping is supposed to be here. Its oddly sterile, and artificial, especially when a short walk from the mall reveals open gutters, small shacks, chop bars and children chasing chickens.
But this mall is the shining example of development, a sure sign that prosperity has come, in the form of overpriced mall Chinese food and an Apple store. Its easy to succumb to the lure of the mall, turn the semester into a four month long recreation of suburban America, ignoring the myriad of things going on just outside. You could only eat American food, only listen to American music, go to bars and watch sports. You gain the skill of bringing home with you no matter where you go.
There’s another skill, however, waiting to be cultivated here in Accra. The art of leaving home completely, and giving yourself over to the outside world. Leave your computer and your dorm, take to the streets with your camera and a sense of enthusiasm. Forget about your email and your iPod and instead spend hours at the open market, or even just read a book on the curb instead of inside your ten-foot walls. You may not have the most comfortable time, but you’ll have better stories. And you might just find that home isn’t American food and the flag- home is where you give yourself to the place.
(Image is my own)
- HaleyWho's blog
- Login to post comments
What a strange experience