The Different Sides of Ghana

                As a new month begins in beautiful southern Ghana, I am rejoicing in the preview of the wet season. The rain comes with little or no warning. Sheets of water are suddenly unleashed from the sky and send people running for cover. An hour later, puddles and a mud festival (from the once dry dust) are all that’s left to testify that the rain actually came. I got caught in the midst of it with a friend on Friday, so we bought roasted plantains at a roadside market before boarding our trotro. That’s how Ghanaians deal with the chills of the wet season (75 – 82 degrees Fahrenheit)!


               Unfortunately, the days following the rain have brought the most intense heat I’ve ever experienced. I usually don’t check the weather because the only options in this environment are “hot” or “very hot”, but I’ve been checking for curiosity’s sake. The heat index has been between 102 and 108 degrees Fahrenheit this entire week. (The humidity adds 10-15 degrees of “real feel” as the actual heat itself has not exceeded 95 degrees.) All of Saturday, I felt like I was standing next to my grandma while she was opening the oven to take dinner out. Every hot breeze covered me with even more sweat and dust. There is little relief from the heat here as cold water turns warm within minutes, the vendors’ ice cream is soup before it even lands in your hands, and the only access to air conditioning is through a library where old books are being preserved. It is safe to say that absolutely nothing will faze me once I return to the States!

                I definitely had quite the cross-cultural experience when I attended a charismatic church for the first time here almost two weeks ago. I watched in fascination as people danced up and down the aisles and tried to follow along with the music as the languages randomly switched in between Twi and English.  At the end of the service, all the newcomers had to go up front and introduce themselves. I tried to avoid this part, but the person next to me linked his arm to mine and escorted me as everyone cheered. I was handed the microphone and told to say what my name was, where I was from, who brought me, and my relationship status. That last one shocked me, but what doesn’t these days. 

              Unlike France, and I'd venture to even say the United States since I'm comparing it to Ghana, Christianity is not just kept inside the walls of Sunday church. Almost every Ghanaian I’ve met so far has asked, “Are you a Christian?” and/or "What denomination/church are you affiliated with?"  Food stands at the markets advertise "God's timing is right!" and "Jesus loves you!" through stickers or permanent writing in both Twi and English. Often, on campus or at the trotro station, preachers stroll about while giving a sermon over the microphone for all to hear. It's common to hear preachers stressing the importance of service here, and I must say Ghanaians are some of the most generous, welcoming people I've met. I would have been perfectly content only attending church that one day with my classmate. However, she extended the invitation to join her for jollof (jollof rice) and then welcomed me to Bible Study along with her friends. 

             This evening is also a perfect demonstration that some of the most memorable cultural experiences occur in day-to-day life. While at the market in search of an ice cream cone (although I came back with yogurt "soup"), my American friend and I ran into our buddy Rex. Since he was about to get dinner too, it seemed like the perfect time to invite our brother over for "pasta night". I will never forget the look on his face as he took his first few bites of American food. He was full of noteworthy quotes, but my favorite was "The way I feel right now - is this how you've been feeling at every meal since you arrived in Ghana? I now realize that empathy is very different than sympathy." Forgetting that Rex was basically in my shoes now, I gave him the biggest serving ever. (Hey, when you get a moment to give back to those who have taught you survival skills in this crazy new world, you have to take advantage of it!) I saw my own reactions to Ghanaian food in his face and told him I would eat all that he didn't want. He excitedly dumped all of his pasta in my dish save six or seven forkfuls, which he slowly yet steadily finished. I appreciate his efforts! He explained that even though he's been involved with international students for a while now, he had never tasted an average American meal. He was a good sport though and some of his final words before we bid farewell for the night in Twi were, "Hey, we need to take a picture the next time I eat pasta!"

             My favorite class at the university is without a doubt Twi. I partnered with the teaching assistant for practice during our tutorial Tuesday, and, to my surprise, I was able to rattle off almost everything without looking at my notes. I guess making a fool out of myself while trying to practice with my local friends has its rewards! I should mention that Twi is a relatively easy language to learn. Unlike French and English, prepositions don't exist and there are almost no irregular verbs. The only challenges I've encountered are the tone and spelling. Since Twi is more of an oral language, it is difficult to find dictionaries online or even in paper format. The tone also can be the difference between past and future tense and will completely twist the meaning of your sentence if not employed correctly! Once, I was actually trying to apologize to Rex, but instead of saying "Sorry" I said, "Muffin". My tone was wrong... 


           The biggest change in my schedule these past two weeks has been the opportunity to tutor a young girl from Play and Learn named Jessica. It has been the most humbling experience of my life. I first submitted to humility when we were finalizing the days and times we would meet for lessons. With all the embarrassment in the world, I asked if she could escort me across the street the first few times we met. The street that separates Jessica’s town from campus hosts one of few stoplights in Accra, but to a westerner, the traffic situation is still utter chaos. I’ve learned that once the first three lanes have a red light, I should ever so carefully yet briskly make my way across. Many times, motorcycles are weaving in and out of traffic, so I always have my ear tuned and am peeking around cars before stepping in between them. There are two lanes that appear to not have a light, so at that point everyone is just dodging traffic. If we can’t cross, we stay put and everybody drives around us. I sigh in relief as we reach the median. After a few motorcycles fly by, it is usually safe to scurry to the entrance of Jessica’s town. 

Friday night traffic in Accra

             Jessica’s town is only a couple hundred of yards from campus, but it shows a completely different side of Ghana. While thanking God for making it across the road safely yet one more time, I hustle past the trotro mates hollering “Madina! Madina” and the street sellers onto the dusty, stony path that leads to Jessica’s house. Little shops, restaurants, and living spaces fill each side of the street. I often hear "Obroni!" at least once each time I pass through. ("Obroni" literally translates to foreigner but is only used to refer to white people.)

             Witnessing the living conditions of this town has been difficult to say the least. My fellow Ghanaian explained that it's still one of the more developed areas in Accra. However, even in Ghana's capital where I have access to almost all American comforts if I search them out, the differences between the United States and Ghana are a very hard slap in the face. I suppose the most eye-opening part is seeing how the classifications of “needs” and “wants” conflict. Even though I often missed breakfast because I could not get out of bed in the morning, I grew up with the necessity of three meals a day engrained in my mind. Here, it seems that two meals a day is a blessing. The one word I would use to describe Ghanaian food other than spicy is heavy, and I think I now know why. I could of course go on and on about what crossing the street in Accra has taught me. 

              Jessica begins her day with morning chores before beginning school at 6am. Although she is no doubt exhausted as she doesn't get home until 4:30pm, she is always ready to practice her lessons with me. She has made major improvement even this past week with adding and subtracting mixed fractions, and Mathway has helped give me a refresher too! I've also been able to help her with French, a requirement for all Ghanaian students. One of her cousins is from the Ivory Coast and speaks French too. If I'm not doing so hot in Twi and want to converse in something other than English, French is always my go to!

             Although these past two weeks have challenged me greatly, they have included some of the most enlightening moments of my life. I look back at the goal I wrote down only months ago to dive into a new way of life and share my culture with others, and I feel I am doing that. Tomorrow Ghana celebrates its independence from Britain in 1957, so instead of attending class and going to my internship, I will spend my morning at Jessica's Independence Day parade. She invited me herself and has not stopped talking about it! How could "Aunty" say no? I am looking forward to it!