Days before I left for West
Africa, I wrote out a list of goals for my time abroad. My aunt knows
transitions well and taught me a few years back to always defeat nerves by
concentrating on positive aspects any change will bring. Of course, I defined
my goals loosely as I knew it wasn’t a good idea to set expectations for my
life in a completely different country. I also know that I didn’t exactly
adhere to them 100%. (I had way too much fun texting my loved ones pictures of
almost everything, from my mountain of jollof rice to baby animals!) However, I
also think my intentions, whether typed on that paper or not, were clear. I
wanted to take advantage of every moment I had in West Africa, and I'm more
thankful than ever that I did.
Out
of the many lessons the past five weeks have taught me, the central reminder is
that I am not in control. That reality that snapped me in half at 1:30am during
my weekend trip to the mountainous Volta region of Ghana with my teammates. As I turned
airplane mode off and my whatsapp messages trickled in, I could tell it wasn’t
going to be good news. “They’ll find out about it in the morning,” one message
read. Before I even confirmed what “it” was, I already had too good of a guess.
My study abroad program had ended early due to increasing concerns regarding
the Coronavirus and travel bans, and I had to go back to the United States
months earlier than intended. Months of preparation and excitement had
been derailed by a single whatsapp screenshot. As I did many days and nights on campus, I
comforted myself outdoors in the cool (well 85 degrees) African air. Some of my
closest friends stayed with me late into their American night. We had celebrated every
milestone along this journey and chuckled at every cultural adjustment fail
together despite the miles. Now, they were helping me process through one of
the most terrible combinations of shock, disappointment, anger, sadness, and
confusion I had ever experienced.
Breakfast was a somber affair a few hours later. My teammates and I wanted to
make the most of our final moments together, but no one really knew what to say. Some
had already been called back by their universities a few days before and were
finalizing flight details. Others, like me, were trying to deny the ever
present reality, just hoping for another few weeks in this beautiful country.
Our buddies were more like brothers and sisters at this point and worked hard
to cheer us up. However, after a quiet lunch, our program advisors agreed to
take us back to campus earlier than our intended departure time. Who could
enjoy a nice pool on the mountainside when we knew we had to once again pack
our life up and say goodbye?
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| Our last moments together as a team |
It wasn't the goodbye itself that hurt so much, but in the way it was (or was not) said. Of course it came way too fast. I was only
beginning to adapt to my life in Ghana. When I arrived, I felt like a toddler. I couldn’t cross the street by myself, I
couldn’t get around town on my own, and I didn’t know how to order food at the
markets or eat it without silverware. Some people talk about study abroad like it’s a relaxing
vacation, but it took nearly two months of asking questions, observing locals,
and failing to feel like I could really navigate life in sub-Saharan Africa. That is okay with me! I would relive every moment if it were possible. I
just wish I could’ve had more time to see myself grow and learn.
As this pandemic entered my city of Accra so suddenly, my last moments abroad
also were not ideal. The difference between my last political science class the
Monday before and the Monday when I was sorting out flight details was
enormous. My tutee and her siblings were wearing masks when I said our sudden
goodbye, people started walking the other way when they saw my skin color, and
I think one local even told me to go back to the United States. I deemed it
wise not to take a trotro just days before an international flight, so talk of the
Coronavirus was the basis of my conversations with the taxi drivers. Perhaps my
biggest regret is that I never got to say goodbye to most of my Ghanaian
connections because the university ordered them to go home with little warning.
My family often teases me about how I always need my goodnight hug, so not
saying goodbye to a person who lives on the other side of the world was a tough
pill to swallow. Jet-lagged Whatsapp messages after 30 hours of travel just don’t
do justice to say thank you to those who taught me all I know about Ghana!
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Not how we imagined saying goodbye,
but we have quite the story to tell!
Despite the chaos of my final moments, I am at peace with how I lived every day of this crazy adventure.
My last weekend abroad holds perhaps my most cherished memories. It
began with one of my favorite cultural aspects – new food. After crossing the
bridge that separates the Volta region from the Eastern region, the bus pulled
over to roadside markets and we bought “aboloo”. It is cornbread topped with
small, dried fish that is served on a banana leaf. Though I didn't have enough time to adapt to the idea of eating banku or jollof rice for breakfast, I ate aboloo
with relative ease!
My second
adventure in the Volta region was a throwback to my very first night in Ghana.
While I was trying to stomach all my indomie, Rex entertained me with a video of a
monkey sitting on his shoulder and eating a banana. He promised I’d get to do that too,
and, sure enough, my time had come as we entered the forest in the town of
Tafi. Branches rustled and monkeys immediately appeared in every direction as
our tour guide did the monkey call. Seconds later, I was handed a banana and
told to hold it up high at a 90 degree angle. I tried to predict which
monkey would jump on me, and before I knew it, one was sitting on my arm and
peeling the fruit. “This is so cool! My phone is out of battery. Get pictures!”
I begged of my teammates, who were already busy capturing the moment. That slow motion video is especially of great solace during these days of quarantine!
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As if feeding monkeys wasn’t enough excitement for one weekend, less
than 24 hours later I stood atop the highest mountain in West Africa. It wasn’t the longest hike in the world, but it contains some of the most intense 52
minutes of my life! I am sure that I set a sweat record as the heat
index continued to soar over the normal feel of 100 degrees the higher I
climbed. At many points, I was on all fours just grabbing at clumps of dirt and
rocks to pull myself up the never-ending steepness. I met many natives along
the way too, some of who were scurrying down the mountain in bare feet. “Don’t give
up! You can do it!”, they encouraged as we tried to step out of each other’s
way without falling down the mountain. Eventually, after losing sight of the
trail for about three minutes, I heard the familiar voices of my Ghanaian
brothers. Cheering with me, they snapped a picture as I planted my feet atop Mount Afadjato with what felt like all the pride in the world.
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| I love Africa's natural beauty! |
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A trail marker that reads "Don't give up, quitters never win, you're
664m to the summit."
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We made it! (Vera and me at the top of Mount Afadjato)
Standing on top of Mount Afadjato was not only fulfilling for me because it had
pushed me to my physical limit, but also because it was a symbolic accomplishment
of my entire experience in Ghana. I always referred to my countless
preparations for my time abroad and on-site adjustments as a mountain I was
climbing. As I stood in awe of the natural beauty that surrounded me, Vera also informed me that I was looking at Togo. It was my golden
birthday wish to spend a few days in Ghana’s neighboring country. I wanted to
see how different the two countries were while speaking a language other than
English fluently (French). Unfortunately, I won’t get to do that this
time around, but I am grateful for a taste of that wish.
My frantic, early return
to the United States is not how I pictured saying goodbye to my beloved new home
of Ghana, West Africa. However, I know that my short time there gifted me with stories and opportunities
that I would not have gotten anywhere else in the world. Those
fleeting moments are memories I will cling onto for years
to come, especially until I feel the fierce heat of that equatorial sun again
in the center of the world again (because I am confident I will!).
“Find life experiences and swallow them whole. Travel. Meet many people. Go down some dead ends and explore dark alleys. Try everything. Exhaust yourself in the glorious pursuit of life.”
- Lawrence K. Fish
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