I would like to preface this e-mail by telling you all that I just danced the entire Fall semester Rochester Raas routine by myself in my cabin. I did this because I realized that it's been nearly a month since I've been in the United States, and I was getting sad and nostalgic. Just so you know, I've forgotten a large portion of the routine, and I'm definitely out of shape. In response, I decided to sit down, write this blog entry, and drink a can of Brazilian guaraná soda that I forgot I had in my refrigerator. Whatever. #sasproblems
In bigger news, I am currently in Tema, right outside of Accra, Ghana in West Africa. As another disclaimer, I have absolutely no idea when this may actually be posted on my blog. You may actually be reading this once I have already departed Ghana. This is due to two things: 1) I usually e-mail my blog posts using the SAS internet system, but the port here in Ghana has mandated that the internet on the ship be disconnected throughout the duration of our stay and; 2) Neither do I want to bring my computer out into the city, nor do I know if I will be able to head to an internet cafe at any point in time. So here's a post that may or may not be delayed.
As for Ghana, I'm slightly in disbelief that I'm here. It's crazy to think that I was supposed to spend an entire year in this country. Upon disembarking, my friend Grace said to me, "Hey Paul... we're in Africa." The simple statement threw me for a loop because, yes, we were indeed in Africa. Especially because I've been discussing it so much on the ship on the way across the Atlantic, there's a definitely vision we have of this continent that Westerners have ingrained in their minds. We think of Africa as either a breeding ground for poverty and disease or some kind of far-removed, strange, and different place. I can assume that I know much more about Africa, most especially West Africa, and even more specifically Ghana, than most. Nonetheless, I was still very surprised, lost, and overwhelmed as I walked in the center of the city where we are docked. Tema is a port city which has the largest man-made dock and handles a significant portion of the export activity in the country, and many of the people who live in this area are related in some way to this industry. It is separate from, and seemingly in contrast to, the neighboring capital city of Accra which I will be able to explore in the upcoming days.
As we walked around the streets of Tema, we incited slight riots. You can only imagine a line of white Americans (and a Chinese Trinidadian named Rheanna who is, by far, one of the most interesting people I've ever met) is not a normal thing to see in the far-from-the-beaten-path market. Shopkeepers often had their mobile phones out taking pictures or videos and being amused, or even laughing, at the sight of us. We drew the comparison that our typical tourist roles felt like they switched. We SASers were usually the ones pointing and snapping photos and staring with a prying gaze because of our interest in their exoticness. In this case, the tables turned, and it was a weird feeling being on the other side of the cameras and stares, let alone being unaccustomed to the environment which caused even more uneasiness.
Obruni is a term which means "white person" or a general foreigner. People here don't use the word very derogatorily, and it's more of a title or monicker that they use to refer to all strangers. My soundtrack of walking down the unpaved sidewalks of Tema included honks from tro tros, guys hawking at you to buy stuff from them, and a whole lot of "obrunis."
Somehow, my group gravitated to a yard where young people were playing soccer (my bad... it's football). It was right outside of a school which just ended classes for the day, and upon seeing a group of obrunis approaching their territory, a swarm of the schoolchildren flocked to us. Mostly speaking in what I assume was Twi, the local Akan language widely spoken in the Southern part of the country, especially in the Greater Accra region, the kids asked us tons of questions. Many of them were expected (Where are you from? How old are you? Why are you here?), though some were a little more peculiar or funny ("Why are you white?" was common, though "Do you know kung fu?" stood out as my favorite). Their questions and our answers were usually translated through an outgoing child who knew more English than the others. For the most part, we communicated through genuine smiles and vibrant gestures.
At one point, some of the kids started to tell me to dance. A kid brought out a makeshift drum, and they started doing a kind of funky dance move coined the "wash and wear" which was aptly named because it mimed the action of washing a shirt and putting it on. Of course, the world dancer in me began to copy the move which made them laugh like no other. Perhaps the only other thing that made them laugh harder was my new mohawk which many of the children took liberties of petting. I'm sure that these kids told their parents once they got home that they found a dancing obruni with weird hair making a fool of himself. And I'm okay with that. I'm telling all of you that I found a group of Ghanaian schoolchildren for whom I made a fool out of myself, so it's only fair.
As for being the dancing obruni, this wasn't the only time today I found myself getting my grove on. The first thing I did in Ghana was go to a dance performance and workshop with the Agbe African Dance Company. It was a trip with Semester at Sea, so it was fun to see other students, teachers, lifelong learners, and little children take part, most of whom I can safely say have not had much exposure to anything of the sort. Of course the performances were phenomenal and the dancing was fun, but my favorite part was talking to the dancers and drummers who were such sweethearts. They were genuinely in love with their art, and they were very impressed with my knowledge and interest in their craft. In my short interactions, we shared a camaraderie that I found refreshing. I promised that I would return to Ghana, and I assured them that their company will one day make it to New York where I will be rooting them on. The very joyous and incredibly talented artistic director also helped me to perfect my Ghanaian handshake which is a lengthy ordeal consisting of many intricate gestures including a finger-snap at the end.
All in all, my first day in Ghana has been a fun and transformative experience. I'm refraining from making some kind of grand conclusion because my time here has just started, but I already know I've made some very lasting memories. The best thing is that there are so many more to come.
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