Dear everyone,
I guess this is it! What a weird feeling. I leave Ghana this Thursday, in a little over 72 hours.
What just happened? I guess that was Study Abroad. It's difficult to describe this emotion, but I'm sure we've all felt some mixture of bittersweet excitement and sadness. Each semester at school thus far has been a chapter in and of themselves, and Study Abroad has loomed largely in my plans for almost as long as I had been planning on going to college.
Was it what I thought it would be? I guess I didn't know what I thought it would be, which is why I wanted to go.
And, now that I've been, what was it? Boy, what a silly question. It was a lot of things. I suppose the most apt word series would be"adventure", followed closely by "learning experience", and then bringing up the rear we have "intensely thought provoking and exciting". Some combination of those words will be used when I am asked upon my return by various people, "How was Ghana?"
But, for those of you who are curious, here is the long answer. How was Ghana?
There were rough days and there were days that I was floating on the knowledge that I was living in another country. There were times when I wanted to board a plane back to America the next day and there were times when I wanted to cancel my ticket home. There were moments so frustratingly rife with cultural barriers that I wanted to scream and there were moments when I was so touched by the kindness and culture of Ghanaians that I was left feeling profoundly humbled.
My program was incredible. Many people who we spoke with were later revealed to be incredibly important, either in Cape Coast or Ghana or the field in which they were working. The adviser of my ISP was the Chief of Sekundi, our home-stay coordinator was slowly revealed to be a local celebrity, almost everyone I came into contact with on a regular basis would have been ideal to interview for my research and yet 4 weeks is not all that long of a time and choices had to be made. We visited many important and interesting places in connection with, and also not so in connection with, the subject of our program.
One of S.I.T.'s emphases is on experiential living, and I definitely felt immersed. When walking about Accra, looking for the Ministry of Tourism by trotro, eating at Charles' place for breakfast, living at the Lemon Lodge, feeling fully a part of the Kum family, being utterly confident about getting around Cape Coast and even greater Ghana itself- I have definitely gained more confidence in my abilities to navigate in a very foreign place successfully and comfortably. I have also come to know and, at least partially, understand what it means to be a part of another culture. The mindset here is quite different in many many ways from the American one, which I would be happy to talk about with people at length (or shortly) when I return.
I definitely feel that more reflection is due, but am not sure what else to say. It is difficult to try and sum things up. Ghana has been an incredible experience. What an awesome opportunity! I am incredibly grateful to have had this chance, and can't even really imagine how I will be affected when I get back home.
That being said about how great Ghana is, I am ready to be heading back. There are things that I am excited to do this summer, and there have been a few annoyances here and there that I will be happy to leave behind. I thank God that I have made it this far, and pray that the rest of my trip and journey provide a fitting close to these three and a half months. I hope that you've enjoyed reading about my adventures... as I have been constantly reminded by my fellow Ghana girls, I have a tendancy to be rather long winded. Oh, well!
Last, but not least, if you're in the mpls area on Saturday, May 23rd, my parents are graciously hosting a welcome back shindig at 4pm in Plymouth. Snacks and a slideshow will be provided, so come one come all- I would love to see you!
Please RSVP to (and get directions from!) my mom, Kim, at kimcoreyedstrom@me.com by Wednesday the 20th.
Thanks again everyone, I'll be seeing you soon!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
(Mostly amusing) Things to Remember
What follows are a few random things that I thought were amusing or things that didn't fit in any other blog that I don't want to forget. But mostly they consist of the former.
Princess Tyra- I know I mentioned a little bit about this before, but there's so much more to say. Princess Tyra is a Ghanaian movie that depicts the clash of tradition and modernity, with royalty, romance, and class issues (like rich and poor, not like classy... although, one may argue that there were indeed some of these class issues as well). The plot isn't all that important to what I'm about to share with you. First, the main character, Mefua, is a ways into her scandalous pregnancy and gets rushed to the hospital whilst experiencing intense and prolonged pre-labor pains- as she is shoved into the back of a taxi by her caretakers, sweating and moaning prolifically, we see she is wearing a plain gray t-shirt, screen printed on which in plain black letters are the words "Dolce and Gabana". Second, Mefua's long lost twin, Ashley, gets cornered in a large park by two assassin thugs who shoot two "warning shots" into her thighs, and then leap in a taxi that pulls away, the rear window emblazoned with the word "Culture". Third, the four songs that make up the soundtrack must be noted:
1- a midi sounding bit used during suspenseful moments
2- a song that was reminiscent of the theme for Mr. Roger's Neighborhood during touching moments
3- the "Princess Tyra" song that played whenever Princess Tyra was on screen. The lyrics are as follows- "I am a princess. This is my kingdom. My name is Tyra. This is my world. Beautiful kingdom, where I come from, is a land filled with milk and honey..." a calming and peaceful melody accompanies this refrain, the irony being that Tyra is, for lack of a better word (and pardoning my language), a bitch.
4- the last song is another original composition for the film, played whenever something unfortunate and tragic happened (which was very very often). The lyrics- "Life. Liiiiiife. Life... is a bittersweet mfdgh...." (we could never catch the last word). The group has taken to singing this song whenever something seemingly tragic befalls us.
Arnold Schwarzenegger-For the first week we were in Cape Coast Anna's host sister was home from work (school?) because she had malaria. She watched much TV during this period, but literally everything that Anna saw her watching was a vast variety of Arnold Schwarzenegger films. This confusing pattern led, in our minds, to the possibile existance of a chanel devoted to nothing but the govenator's works. Turns out that it was just a DVD collection, but I was a little alarmed for a few days there.
Flag Seller interaction- The following interaction took place while I was on our bus in Kumasi traffic:
Vendor (selling an assortment of small flags): Where are you from?
Me: America.
Vendor: I have American flags.
Me: No, thank you.
Vendor: (pauses and stares at me, defeated, then-) I love you.
Me: Thanks. (Bus pulls away)
Commercials- There are many advertisements that baffle me here, but my first favorite is one that advertises Indo Mie. Indo Mie is basically ramen type noodles. One commercial shows a women cooking Indo Mie to demonstrate how easy it is. The best part is when she says, "I love Indo Mie so much, look at how much I have." She turns around to open her kitchen cupboards, and there is literally nothing in there but stacks upon stacks of Indo Mie. It's like the woman is running a side business out of her home as an Indo Mie distributor. Then her kids get home from school and run in for dinner whilst singing the Indo Mie theme song. I don't know why this commercial tickles me so. Probably because the advertising shows people, like people in the real world not just starving college students, who have an intense love for ramen.
My second favorite advertises Coastal Milk. A husband calls his house to talk to his wife, but (it is a bit unclear what exactly happens here) he hears her moan and thinks that she's having an affair. The man storms out of his office and drives home to see what's up. Before he walks into his house he grabs a basball bat (Do they even play baseball here? And what exactly is he going to do with it?). Once he steps inside he sees his wife take a sip of her tea and make the same noise- he figures it out and hides the bat behind his back. He makes up an excuse to his wife about forgetting his phone and needing to come back, but then his phone rings in his pocket, and the wife cleverly figures out the real reason why he came and just shakes her head. The parting catch phrase for Coastal Milk, as the commercial ends, is: "Coastal Milk- Finally, milk just got creamier!" Amen, Coastal Milk, amen!
Carnival- While in Benin there was a carnival set up about 5 minutes away from our hotel. It was a strange feeling to be at what I perceive as a rather American pastime in Africa (that is, I suppose, partly why I went on study abroad. You know, to expand my horizons and learn and all that... also notice in what ways American/Western culture has infiltrated much of the rest of the world. Where do carnivals come from anyway?). It's a strange day when one feels homesick because of a Ferris Wheel. Anyway, it was rather charming and a wonderful evening full of bumper cars, high flying swings, and adorable Easter decorations.
Stars- When we got up at 4am to drive back from Benin to Cape Coast, the stars were out. Kelsey told me that she'd heard that because Ghana is so close to the equator that it goes through both the Northern hemisphere stars and the Southern hemisphere stars in a night. We tried to discern whether or not the sky was indeed showing the stars of the Southern hemisphere, but it was a little tricky. I'm fairly familiar with constellations in the Northern hemisphere, but know nothing about the Southern. The only constellation Kelsey knew was the Southern Cross, but she was unsure if she would be able to pick it out after seeing it for such a brief time in South Africa. Since neither of us could find a Northern constellation we knew and were able to pick a fairly large and prominent cross shape out of what was there, we decided that we had indeed seen the stars of the Southern hemisphere. Neat!
Ghanaianisms- There are several common Ghanaian turns of phrase that I would like to share.
Small small- example, "How many of my fries did you eat?" "Only small small!"
Pass here- used to indicate where one should walk.
Pick a call- example, "Why did you not pick my call?" "Because MTN sucks and I didn't get your call."
Uh huh- I can't really describe this one correctly online. It's kind of a an-huuunh in affirmation while someone is speaking.
______-O- example, "Sorry-O" or "I'm coming-O", used for emphasis
I'm coming- I know we say this phrase in America, but it's used frequently here and in some interesting ways. If you need to leave a room but will be back one says, "I'm coming" and then leaves. Or, if you're waiting for someone, they will reassure you with this phrase that they'll be with you in a minute.
Dubbed Soap Operas- Dubbed anything makes me crack up. Dubbed awful Latin American soap operas kill me even more. Pasion, Catalina y Sebastien, Until my Dying Breath, etc. Anna is obsessed with Pasion, and was very adamant about watching it during our time in Accra. I am unsure as to why there is such a proliferation of these shows on. Perhaps Nordia's ISP on the media will help to clear it up for me.
I know this post was a little random, but I hope you enjoyed reading about some things I have learned, experienced, and been amused by.
Only a week left... that's a little too bizarre to think about right now, so I won't. More later!
Princess Tyra- I know I mentioned a little bit about this before, but there's so much more to say. Princess Tyra is a Ghanaian movie that depicts the clash of tradition and modernity, with royalty, romance, and class issues (like rich and poor, not like classy... although, one may argue that there were indeed some of these class issues as well). The plot isn't all that important to what I'm about to share with you. First, the main character, Mefua, is a ways into her scandalous pregnancy and gets rushed to the hospital whilst experiencing intense and prolonged pre-labor pains- as she is shoved into the back of a taxi by her caretakers, sweating and moaning prolifically, we see she is wearing a plain gray t-shirt, screen printed on which in plain black letters are the words "Dolce and Gabana". Second, Mefua's long lost twin, Ashley, gets cornered in a large park by two assassin thugs who shoot two "warning shots" into her thighs, and then leap in a taxi that pulls away, the rear window emblazoned with the word "Culture". Third, the four songs that make up the soundtrack must be noted:
1- a midi sounding bit used during suspenseful moments
2- a song that was reminiscent of the theme for Mr. Roger's Neighborhood during touching moments
3- the "Princess Tyra" song that played whenever Princess Tyra was on screen. The lyrics are as follows- "I am a princess. This is my kingdom. My name is Tyra. This is my world. Beautiful kingdom, where I come from, is a land filled with milk and honey..." a calming and peaceful melody accompanies this refrain, the irony being that Tyra is, for lack of a better word (and pardoning my language), a bitch.
4- the last song is another original composition for the film, played whenever something unfortunate and tragic happened (which was very very often). The lyrics- "Life. Liiiiiife. Life... is a bittersweet mfdgh...." (we could never catch the last word). The group has taken to singing this song whenever something seemingly tragic befalls us.
Arnold Schwarzenegger-For the first week we were in Cape Coast Anna's host sister was home from work (school?) because she had malaria. She watched much TV during this period, but literally everything that Anna saw her watching was a vast variety of Arnold Schwarzenegger films. This confusing pattern led, in our minds, to the possibile existance of a chanel devoted to nothing but the govenator's works. Turns out that it was just a DVD collection, but I was a little alarmed for a few days there.
Flag Seller interaction- The following interaction took place while I was on our bus in Kumasi traffic:
Vendor (selling an assortment of small flags): Where are you from?
Me: America.
Vendor: I have American flags.
Me: No, thank you.
Vendor: (pauses and stares at me, defeated, then-) I love you.
Me: Thanks. (Bus pulls away)
Commercials- There are many advertisements that baffle me here, but my first favorite is one that advertises Indo Mie. Indo Mie is basically ramen type noodles. One commercial shows a women cooking Indo Mie to demonstrate how easy it is. The best part is when she says, "I love Indo Mie so much, look at how much I have." She turns around to open her kitchen cupboards, and there is literally nothing in there but stacks upon stacks of Indo Mie. It's like the woman is running a side business out of her home as an Indo Mie distributor. Then her kids get home from school and run in for dinner whilst singing the Indo Mie theme song. I don't know why this commercial tickles me so. Probably because the advertising shows people, like people in the real world not just starving college students, who have an intense love for ramen.
My second favorite advertises Coastal Milk. A husband calls his house to talk to his wife, but (it is a bit unclear what exactly happens here) he hears her moan and thinks that she's having an affair. The man storms out of his office and drives home to see what's up. Before he walks into his house he grabs a basball bat (Do they even play baseball here? And what exactly is he going to do with it?). Once he steps inside he sees his wife take a sip of her tea and make the same noise- he figures it out and hides the bat behind his back. He makes up an excuse to his wife about forgetting his phone and needing to come back, but then his phone rings in his pocket, and the wife cleverly figures out the real reason why he came and just shakes her head. The parting catch phrase for Coastal Milk, as the commercial ends, is: "Coastal Milk- Finally, milk just got creamier!" Amen, Coastal Milk, amen!
Carnival- While in Benin there was a carnival set up about 5 minutes away from our hotel. It was a strange feeling to be at what I perceive as a rather American pastime in Africa (that is, I suppose, partly why I went on study abroad. You know, to expand my horizons and learn and all that... also notice in what ways American/Western culture has infiltrated much of the rest of the world. Where do carnivals come from anyway?). It's a strange day when one feels homesick because of a Ferris Wheel. Anyway, it was rather charming and a wonderful evening full of bumper cars, high flying swings, and adorable Easter decorations.
Stars- When we got up at 4am to drive back from Benin to Cape Coast, the stars were out. Kelsey told me that she'd heard that because Ghana is so close to the equator that it goes through both the Northern hemisphere stars and the Southern hemisphere stars in a night. We tried to discern whether or not the sky was indeed showing the stars of the Southern hemisphere, but it was a little tricky. I'm fairly familiar with constellations in the Northern hemisphere, but know nothing about the Southern. The only constellation Kelsey knew was the Southern Cross, but she was unsure if she would be able to pick it out after seeing it for such a brief time in South Africa. Since neither of us could find a Northern constellation we knew and were able to pick a fairly large and prominent cross shape out of what was there, we decided that we had indeed seen the stars of the Southern hemisphere. Neat!
Ghanaianisms- There are several common Ghanaian turns of phrase that I would like to share.
Small small- example, "How many of my fries did you eat?" "Only small small!"
Pass here- used to indicate where one should walk.
Pick a call- example, "Why did you not pick my call?" "Because MTN sucks and I didn't get your call."
Uh huh- I can't really describe this one correctly online. It's kind of a an-huuunh in affirmation while someone is speaking.
______-O- example, "Sorry-O" or "I'm coming-O", used for emphasis
I'm coming- I know we say this phrase in America, but it's used frequently here and in some interesting ways. If you need to leave a room but will be back one says, "I'm coming" and then leaves. Or, if you're waiting for someone, they will reassure you with this phrase that they'll be with you in a minute.
Dubbed Soap Operas- Dubbed anything makes me crack up. Dubbed awful Latin American soap operas kill me even more. Pasion, Catalina y Sebastien, Until my Dying Breath, etc. Anna is obsessed with Pasion, and was very adamant about watching it during our time in Accra. I am unsure as to why there is such a proliferation of these shows on. Perhaps Nordia's ISP on the media will help to clear it up for me.
I know this post was a little random, but I hope you enjoyed reading about some things I have learned, experienced, and been amused by.
Only a week left... that's a little too bizarre to think about right now, so I won't. More later!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Accra, take 2
I've been in Accra for almost two weeks now, and it is speedily approaching the end of the ISP period. May Day is actually a holiday here, which is nice for everyone who gets off work, and sucks for those of us in search of cheap food for meals since many places are closed today. Oh, well, kebabs and pb'n'j never tasted so good as they do now when they're being had on a shoestring budget.
There are 4 of the 7 currently in Accra. Leigh, Kelsey, Anna, and I are staying in the Lemon Lodge, located in a neighborhood called Asylum Down. Not really sure what the origin is there. Anyway, it's a very nice place to live for a couple weeks. Two of the three main political parties in Ghana, the NPP and the CPP, have their headquarters within 2 blocks of the Lodge, and the Burkina Faso Embassy is literally right next door. Someone may have thrown a banana peel over the barbed wire divider, but I'll never tell... the security guard that stands between angry, rebellious Burkina Faso haters and the Embassy is one of the most jovial men I have met in Ghana. That speaks well of their citizens, but makes me worry a little for our new friend if there were to be any tensions with the francophone nation to the north. Fingers crossed! The Lemon Lodge itself is an adequate accommodation, and for 20 cedi a night one could not really hope for more than a clean bed, personal bathroom facilities, a semi-working tv, and a fan.
Transportation in Accra has been, surprisingly, fairly cheap. Trotros have become my travel option of choice, and at 35 pesewa for a 20 minute ride in traffic to the Accra mall, why wouldn't it be? They're efficient, fairly speedy, and make me constantly grateful for the kindness of strangers. I've only once (err, twice...) gotten on the wrong trotro and was 45 minutes on my way to Tema, the next town over, before the mate (the driver's right hand guy who shouts where the trotro is headed out of the window and collects the fare while the driver navigates the slightly scary Accra traffic) realized he didn't know where "ministries" was, and two business people in the back told me to get off and set me on the right path. Ah, well, such is the adventure of traveling.
I can't believe it's May. I can't believe I've been here for three months.
My ISP research is done, I just need to think and type and print and bind three copies before 4pm on Wednesday. I'm about a third of the way done with the typing bit, so... yeah, it's currently looking manageable. Don't worry, Mom, I swear this blog will be my last act of procrastination today.
In fact, I should get to typing. I promise at least two more blogs before I return. I can't believe the end of it all is so near!
Thinking of you all,
Emily
There are 4 of the 7 currently in Accra. Leigh, Kelsey, Anna, and I are staying in the Lemon Lodge, located in a neighborhood called Asylum Down. Not really sure what the origin is there. Anyway, it's a very nice place to live for a couple weeks. Two of the three main political parties in Ghana, the NPP and the CPP, have their headquarters within 2 blocks of the Lodge, and the Burkina Faso Embassy is literally right next door. Someone may have thrown a banana peel over the barbed wire divider, but I'll never tell... the security guard that stands between angry, rebellious Burkina Faso haters and the Embassy is one of the most jovial men I have met in Ghana. That speaks well of their citizens, but makes me worry a little for our new friend if there were to be any tensions with the francophone nation to the north. Fingers crossed! The Lemon Lodge itself is an adequate accommodation, and for 20 cedi a night one could not really hope for more than a clean bed, personal bathroom facilities, a semi-working tv, and a fan.
Transportation in Accra has been, surprisingly, fairly cheap. Trotros have become my travel option of choice, and at 35 pesewa for a 20 minute ride in traffic to the Accra mall, why wouldn't it be? They're efficient, fairly speedy, and make me constantly grateful for the kindness of strangers. I've only once (err, twice...) gotten on the wrong trotro and was 45 minutes on my way to Tema, the next town over, before the mate (the driver's right hand guy who shouts where the trotro is headed out of the window and collects the fare while the driver navigates the slightly scary Accra traffic) realized he didn't know where "ministries" was, and two business people in the back told me to get off and set me on the right path. Ah, well, such is the adventure of traveling.
I can't believe it's May. I can't believe I've been here for three months.
My ISP research is done, I just need to think and type and print and bind three copies before 4pm on Wednesday. I'm about a third of the way done with the typing bit, so... yeah, it's currently looking manageable. Don't worry, Mom, I swear this blog will be my last act of procrastination today.
In fact, I should get to typing. I promise at least two more blogs before I return. I can't believe the end of it all is so near!
Thinking of you all,
Emily
Monday, April 20, 2009
Mole Mole Mole! (pronounced mo-lay)
Mole was one of the things I was most excited to do on the Northern trip, and it did not disappoint. Mole is the largest resource reserve in Ghana... I don't remember exactly how big it is, but it's big. We pulled up to the Mole Motel in the early afternoon, and most were delighted to discover baboons and warthogs running around the premises. Nordia was not. She is less than enthused by much of the animal kingdom. There was a little time before the afternoon safari walk, so we decided to take a dip in the pool. Happy as I was to see a pool, the cleanliness of this particular body of water left something to be desired. Ah, well, it was still nice to cool off a little. And thus far I have yet to contract a horrible bacterial infection (knock on wood), so I think it was actually maybe cleaner than it looked. Although after dinner, as they were throwing chemicals into the pool by hand, Anna said rather dryly, "Oh, look, they're feeding the fish." ...
While we were swimming, I saw an adult male baboon (with by far the ugliest butt any creature has ever been unfortunate to possess) approaching the outdoor dining facilities. I gasped, and spun around, then was paralyzed as my brain thought three things simultaneously: 1- Nordia is right here and if I alert her to the presence of the baboon, it will not be good; 2- I can't yell to the people in the dining area without alerting Nordia; 3- Maybe it will just walk away, what are people supposed to do in this situation, anyway? A few seconds passed while I tried to process all these things at once, and then I heard a scream/yell, and spun around again to witness said baboon leaping onto a chair and attempting to snatch a young German woman's backpack from the table. A waiter yelled and chased the baboon out of the dining/swimming area, and everyone laughed a little, but the waiter was very serious and warned all of us to remove any food we may have by the pool because the baboons will find it and take it. Yikes! I still remain in the dark as to whether or not I should have raised the alarm sooner, but what would I have done? "BABOOOOOOOOOON!!!! HEY! HEY, THERE'S A BABOON RIGHT THERE!" Would that have been effective? I just am unsure- we were not briefed on proper baboon warning protocol.
After that excitement, all of us (minus Nordia) and our bus driver, Kwesei, went on the afternoon safari walk. We traipsed down the cliff that the motel sits on (overlooking a man made watering hole- it's a reliable source of water for the animals so they can be observed by visitors in the dry season) using a rocky path. DK, our guide, pointed out various antelope and deer species as we went along. The real prize, of course, would be an elephant. All of the guides have cell phones so that when one spots an elephant the other groups can have a chance of seeing it as well. DK said that the walking tours had not seen elephants for the past two days because it had juat rained and so they did not need to come in this far to get water. About 45 minutes into the walk we came upon a small grove of trees that had recently been broken- DK was sure that an elephant had been here earlier in the day. The majority of the rest of the afternoon walk was spent tracking the elephant's trail through the forests, and seeing many more antelope, deer, and monkeys along the way. It was a great walk, but we were disappointed to have to return without seeing an elephant. We remained hopeful that the morning walk would work out in our favor.
The morning safari walk began at 6:45am. Our group, still with DK, was down to Leigh, Kelsey, Anna, an old German couple, and myself (have I mentioned that this is the whitest place I've been on the trip? Still, even to this day, this is true. The only non-foreigners present were the park workers and our program staff). We took the same route as we had the day before, and cut across a swampy grassland. My hopes for seeing an elephant were all but dashed at this point because it had rained the night before. Halfway across the swmp, though, DK spotted a place where an elephant had wallowed early in the morning, and we set out to track it. After 15 minuts, DK informed us that he had lost the trail, and so we disappointedly began walking in a random direction. Then, his cell phone rang. He answered, chatted quickly for a minute, and began walking hurriedly in a different direction. We followed. 5 minutes later, we spotted another group of tourists stopped and observing something a ways away. And there it was: a large, full grown, male elephant, chomping away at a grove of trees, 50 yards away, and not a care in the world. Yay! What followed was a 10 minute, gleeful picture taking session. During this time the elephant moved further into the trees because a 3rd group came up making too much noise, and he got scared. Well, our group decided to move around in front of the guy before making our way back to the motel. We moved and were taking a few final shots, when the big guy decided he didn't like us standing directly in front of him, and began to charge at us. DK urged us to, "Move back, move back!" And we obeyed- some better than others. Kelsey, the german couple, and I moved only a little faster than DK, my thinking was that if the guy with a gun was between me and the elephant than I was probably OK. Leigh and Anna, though, have an impressive survival instinct and they shot past the rest of the group like Olympic sprinters, showing an ability for track and field that they had thus far hidden from the rest of us. DK stopped jogging, and motioned for us to continue taking pictures. The elephant had stopped his pursuit, and was now even clser than it had been before. He turned and started walking away. Then, I guess he decided he just wasn't finished with us, and turned around and charged us a bit more aggressively. DK, this time, just said, "Go, go!" and actually started running, as opposed to a hurried walk, so I didn't look back and took off for the trees. There was, of course, no way that I was going to catch up with Anna and Leigh, but I thought I could definitely take the old German couple, and I had always been taught in situations like these that you only have to outrun one person (thanks, Dad), so I wasn't too worried. When we finally escaped disaster, we stopped to catch our breath. DK gathered us and smiled, saying, "Now that nothing has happened, I think that it is good that we got to see how the elephant charges." And the rest of us laughed, many thrilled to be in one piece, and heartily agreed.
One other mentionable thing took place at Mole- we ran into the other SIT group, the Arts and Cultures program that's based in Accra. It was around that time that we began to count our blessings as a group. First, we had not appreciated our collective good health. A handful of the other group had had Malaria, and one unfortunate soul had had malaria twice AND typhoid fever. Thankfully she was OK and doing well. Second, it brought to my attention that I personally was happy that we are only 7- it could have turned out really awfully, but I can safely say that I have been to Ghana with a group of wonderful, intelligent, caring, culturally sensitive, thoughtful, and (emphasis is heavily placed on this last one) fun-loving people. Just thinking of preparing meals, and waiting for bathrooms, and group dynamics with 18 people seemed then, and still does now, incredibly overwhelming. Third, they traveled around in a trotro like van, which made our bus seem like a Hilton compared to a Holiday Inn in need of renovation- they openly bemoaned our access to two seats per person and air conditioning.
Well, that was Mole. It was an exciting adventure, and how many people can say they were charged by an elephant twice and lived to tell the tale? I mean, there's probably not a statistic out there on it, but I assume it isn't all that many.
Yay study abroad!
While we were swimming, I saw an adult male baboon (with by far the ugliest butt any creature has ever been unfortunate to possess) approaching the outdoor dining facilities. I gasped, and spun around, then was paralyzed as my brain thought three things simultaneously: 1- Nordia is right here and if I alert her to the presence of the baboon, it will not be good; 2- I can't yell to the people in the dining area without alerting Nordia; 3- Maybe it will just walk away, what are people supposed to do in this situation, anyway? A few seconds passed while I tried to process all these things at once, and then I heard a scream/yell, and spun around again to witness said baboon leaping onto a chair and attempting to snatch a young German woman's backpack from the table. A waiter yelled and chased the baboon out of the dining/swimming area, and everyone laughed a little, but the waiter was very serious and warned all of us to remove any food we may have by the pool because the baboons will find it and take it. Yikes! I still remain in the dark as to whether or not I should have raised the alarm sooner, but what would I have done? "BABOOOOOOOOOON!!!! HEY! HEY, THERE'S A BABOON RIGHT THERE!" Would that have been effective? I just am unsure- we were not briefed on proper baboon warning protocol.
After that excitement, all of us (minus Nordia) and our bus driver, Kwesei, went on the afternoon safari walk. We traipsed down the cliff that the motel sits on (overlooking a man made watering hole- it's a reliable source of water for the animals so they can be observed by visitors in the dry season) using a rocky path. DK, our guide, pointed out various antelope and deer species as we went along. The real prize, of course, would be an elephant. All of the guides have cell phones so that when one spots an elephant the other groups can have a chance of seeing it as well. DK said that the walking tours had not seen elephants for the past two days because it had juat rained and so they did not need to come in this far to get water. About 45 minutes into the walk we came upon a small grove of trees that had recently been broken- DK was sure that an elephant had been here earlier in the day. The majority of the rest of the afternoon walk was spent tracking the elephant's trail through the forests, and seeing many more antelope, deer, and monkeys along the way. It was a great walk, but we were disappointed to have to return without seeing an elephant. We remained hopeful that the morning walk would work out in our favor.
The morning safari walk began at 6:45am. Our group, still with DK, was down to Leigh, Kelsey, Anna, an old German couple, and myself (have I mentioned that this is the whitest place I've been on the trip? Still, even to this day, this is true. The only non-foreigners present were the park workers and our program staff). We took the same route as we had the day before, and cut across a swampy grassland. My hopes for seeing an elephant were all but dashed at this point because it had rained the night before. Halfway across the swmp, though, DK spotted a place where an elephant had wallowed early in the morning, and we set out to track it. After 15 minuts, DK informed us that he had lost the trail, and so we disappointedly began walking in a random direction. Then, his cell phone rang. He answered, chatted quickly for a minute, and began walking hurriedly in a different direction. We followed. 5 minutes later, we spotted another group of tourists stopped and observing something a ways away. And there it was: a large, full grown, male elephant, chomping away at a grove of trees, 50 yards away, and not a care in the world. Yay! What followed was a 10 minute, gleeful picture taking session. During this time the elephant moved further into the trees because a 3rd group came up making too much noise, and he got scared. Well, our group decided to move around in front of the guy before making our way back to the motel. We moved and were taking a few final shots, when the big guy decided he didn't like us standing directly in front of him, and began to charge at us. DK urged us to, "Move back, move back!" And we obeyed- some better than others. Kelsey, the german couple, and I moved only a little faster than DK, my thinking was that if the guy with a gun was between me and the elephant than I was probably OK. Leigh and Anna, though, have an impressive survival instinct and they shot past the rest of the group like Olympic sprinters, showing an ability for track and field that they had thus far hidden from the rest of us. DK stopped jogging, and motioned for us to continue taking pictures. The elephant had stopped his pursuit, and was now even clser than it had been before. He turned and started walking away. Then, I guess he decided he just wasn't finished with us, and turned around and charged us a bit more aggressively. DK, this time, just said, "Go, go!" and actually started running, as opposed to a hurried walk, so I didn't look back and took off for the trees. There was, of course, no way that I was going to catch up with Anna and Leigh, but I thought I could definitely take the old German couple, and I had always been taught in situations like these that you only have to outrun one person (thanks, Dad), so I wasn't too worried. When we finally escaped disaster, we stopped to catch our breath. DK gathered us and smiled, saying, "Now that nothing has happened, I think that it is good that we got to see how the elephant charges." And the rest of us laughed, many thrilled to be in one piece, and heartily agreed.
One other mentionable thing took place at Mole- we ran into the other SIT group, the Arts and Cultures program that's based in Accra. It was around that time that we began to count our blessings as a group. First, we had not appreciated our collective good health. A handful of the other group had had Malaria, and one unfortunate soul had had malaria twice AND typhoid fever. Thankfully she was OK and doing well. Second, it brought to my attention that I personally was happy that we are only 7- it could have turned out really awfully, but I can safely say that I have been to Ghana with a group of wonderful, intelligent, caring, culturally sensitive, thoughtful, and (emphasis is heavily placed on this last one) fun-loving people. Just thinking of preparing meals, and waiting for bathrooms, and group dynamics with 18 people seemed then, and still does now, incredibly overwhelming. Third, they traveled around in a trotro like van, which made our bus seem like a Hilton compared to a Holiday Inn in need of renovation- they openly bemoaned our access to two seats per person and air conditioning.
Well, that was Mole. It was an exciting adventure, and how many people can say they were charged by an elephant twice and lived to tell the tale? I mean, there's probably not a statistic out there on it, but I assume it isn't all that many.
Yay study abroad!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Benin (Publish Date 4/17/09)
Current Status: Research for my ISP has been going fairly well thus far, keep your fingers crossed that it keeps moving along smoothly. I have two days less than three weeks left to finish my research, write up 20 plus pages on my findings, print, and bind three copies. I know it seems managable, but if I have bad luck with my research, I'm pretty much screwed because I need at least a week and a half to write.... this is boring. Who cares? I don't even care all that much.
On to more exciting things!
Benin!
It took quite a while to get to Benin, even though Togo takes, at most, an hour to cross. We had to be processed out of Ghana, into Togo, out of Togo, and into Benin (and again, backwards, on our way back). Like I said, it took a while. Once we arrived, though, it was a very good, and strange, experience.
The first thing we did was change money into CFA, the currency used in African francophone countries. Nordia used the ATM, and was baffled as to exactly how much money she had withdrawn when she withdreww 10,000 CFA. For awhile we thought it was 4 dollars, but it actually turned out to be roughly 20 USD. I certainly felt rich carrying around 5,000 dollar bills, but less so when a coke cost 300 of those dollars. Sigh.
4 of us changed money at a bank, and the other three went to a forex bureau afterwards. Sitting outside the forex bureau, my eyes wandered to the shop next door and spotted the word "boulongerie" next to the word "patisserie" (I'm not exactly sure how those words are actually spelled...), and my heart started to beat a little faster. "Guys! Let's go! There's a boulongerie right here!" My companions looked at me a little oddly, and one wondered if it had anything to do with loungerie. I tried to explain the type of heaven that resides in French bread and pastries, and failed, but excited my friends enough that I was not the first one off the bus. Bliss, hunger, and a love for all things French filled me with an odd peace as I stared at the cheese croissants, brioche, and chocolate cakes. Speaking French in Benin felt a little odd, but made me happy. A strange battle began to be fought within me: Hate for colonialism against my love for French culture. Unfortunately my hate for colonialism won out in the end. Benin, or at least the town of Cotonou, was very developed and cosmopolitan. The French idea of colonization was this- if one abandonned their own culture and adopted French culture then they were French, and could even become part of the French government. Sounds pretty good, right? Well, this system was incredibly destructive to local cultures and only the very very tiny elite benefited- and not even that much. If you remember those riots in Paris a couple years back, they were caused by tensions created because many people and much of the government was referring to people of colonial descent as immigrants, when many have really have been in France for generations. If someone from an African francophone country wants to visit France, they must obtain a visa first. And, in order to obtain a visa, they must be able to prove that they have a certain, fairly sizeable, amount of money in their bank account first. So who has French colonialism really helped? I'm not saying that the French have done all bad things (nor am I trying to say that Britain did a comparably credible job, either) but I am of the opinion that they could have done much more and in a better way... if they really had to colonize in the first place. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts concerning this issue. I am still far too ignorant to feel I can say all that much, I can only go off of what I have seen and the stories I've been told by those I've met.
The next day we visited a Portugeuse fort, a sacred forest, the Temple of Pythons, and traveled the Slave Route to the sea. The fort is the only European fort left standing in the Ouidah area. At one point the French, Portugeuse, Dutch, Danes, and British all had forts there used to trade slaves, amongst other goods. Have I mentioned why we even went to Benin in the first place? Well, Ghana used to be called the Gold Coast because they exported so much gold, and the Ivory Coast was the same, and Benin used to be known as the Slave Coast. So, on this trip focused on the history of forced migration Benin provides a wider look at the subject and its own tales of resistance. The Slave Route began at the market where slaves were purchased (called Place ChaCha, it's located in front of the house of a Portugeuse merchant that they called ChaCha because he did everything quickly and "cha cha" means "to hurry" in the local language- interestingly enough, a descendant of this merchant is now the first lady of Benin... I think ChaCha had a few local wives), then the slaves were kept in the various forts, then taken to the Tree of Forgetting (a tree that the King of Abomey had a voodoo priest perform some rights on so that when the men circled it 9 times and the women 7 they would forget where they came from- salt water, though, undoes things like this, and thus explains how voodoo survived to the New World), then the Dark Room (where salves were kept for a few days before the trip in order to weaken them further), then the mass grave (where those deemed not strong enough to make the journey were left), then the Tree of Return (that all circled 3 times so that, even in death, their spirit would return to their homeland... a nice sentiment, I suppose, but there's that whole salt water thing that was overlooked...), then to the sea (a giant gate of No Return monument now stands at the water's edge). It was a sobering journey, but necessary. None of these places actually remain, there are only monuments in the spots where they once stood.
The Sacred Forest and the Temple of Pythons are both linked with the Voodoo religion. The forest has statues representing Voodoo gods (such as the god of twins and mutated children, and the god of smallpox) and two trees with divine stories. One is said to be a king- that the king did not die, but rather became a tree. The second was chopped down, but the man who did the act lost his mind, and later on it was discovered that the tree had stood itself back up. The Temple of Pythons has a house used for divining, a small god in a tree, an orb that represents all the people of ouidah, and a temple of pythons. There's an incredible amount of snakes in this place. The attendants brought one out, and 5 of the 6 who had ventured inside put it around our necks for pictures. Talk about feeling like we were commodifying their culture! Buuuuut... I have a pretty sweet picture series... I hope the python gods forgive me. Directly across from the temple was a catholic church- we were told by a couple guides that people in Benin often practice Voodoo and Catholicism 50/50- church in the morning, and voodoo rites by night. It made me wonder how Jesus feels about pythons...
Day 4 consisted of 3 lectures and a trip to a village built on stilts called Ganvier. The lectures were all about Benin, one was particularly interesting- it was about the female warriors of Dahomey, or the Amazons, that were the special warriors of the King. Woot- Girl power!
The trip to Ganvier was the most uncomfortable experience probably thus far in my trip. Ganvier was built in the middle of the 18th century in an effort to escape the slave raiders. The people of this tribe knew that the King of Abomey's slave raiders had a taboo on water and were not allwed to cross it. The people knew that a village on water would be an effective way to escape capture. This, however, is not the story told to tourists. Our group got the real history from a professor that we took with us on the boat. The issue was that we took a motorized boat into this community of 30,000 people- all who use canoes. We loudly announced ourselves as foreigners, were brought to two hotels to buy things, and then taken out of town- the whole time adults were looking at us with contempt, or waving their hand in a circle indicating they did not want to be photographed, and the children persistently approached us with open palms. Afterwards we asked Uncle Eric why we couldn't visit the town elders and make it be known that we are NOT tourists, but students that want to learn, like we did in Gwollu and Sankana. He explained that the residents of Ganvier are hostile to outsiders since the government opened their village for tourism- well, no shit. We had a long group discussion where we firmly told Uncle Eric that while we agreed it was important to learn about Ganvier, if there was not a culturally appropriate way to visit the village that it should be skipped altogether. It was interesting to see, but not at the price of the damage we unintentionally did or at least maintained. Sigh.
The day after that was spent exploring Cotonou, the town where we were staying. The group went to an artisans center and the market, which is a crazy crazy place- it is larger than any market in Ghana, and incredibly overwhelming.
The next day we traveled, at the crack of dawn again, back to Cape Coast.
The End (...of the trip to Benin)!
Approximately 27 days left- my, how time flies!
Love you all and hope all is well!
Monday, March 30, 2009
Northern Trip, Part two
Hey everyone!
Below is what happened on the rest of the Northern trip, but first a thought on the Manhiya Palace Museum tour- I just wanted to note that the idea of preserving physical artifacts simply for the fact of having them is a very Western way to approach things. So, in a way it made sense that the majority of things preserved were from imported cultures. The Ashanti have a strong tradition of oral history, and that is much more difficult to encapsulate in a museum. Though it would be interesting to try! Anywho, just wanted to put that out there for contemplation. Moving on!
Gwollu con't:
Gwollu is a village in the northern most part of Ghana. There are remains of walls there that were built to protect Gwollu and surrounding communities from slave raids. Our group met with the chief and elders of the village first before being taken around to the ruins. We were welcomed in the traditional way, with "water" (or, rather, pito- a drink brewed from millet) served in kalabash cups. We visited the wall remnants, crocodile ponds, and then ran across the border into Burkina Faso for about 2 minutes. The change in countries was only marked by a change in the material used to make electiricty poles- wood in Ghana, and cement in BF. It is always interesting to notice how arbitrary country boundaries can be, particularly because the etnic group that resides in Gwollu, the Sisallah, are found all over Burkina Faso and hardly at all in Ghana. A strange thing that occured during this trip was discovering a tall, scandinavian looking man from Vermont named Adam who accompanied us throughout the day. He is a peacecorps volunteer, there as a business advisor for Gwollu's less than a decade old tourism development project. If anyone is interested I have more to say about our interactions with Adam, but will not go into it here.
Day Four- Visit to Sankana
Sankana is another place where there is physical evidence of resistance to slave raids. There are caves very near the town, and during the time when raids were prominent lookouts were posted at the highest points to watch for dust. Dust clouds in the distance meant the raiders were coming (they used horses to get around), and when they were spotted a horn was blown to warn the residents of Sankana and surrounding towns that the raiders were very near and to seek shelter. There was enough space in the caves for everyone, and most able men would stay out to fight the raiders while women would run between the caves and homes to bring food and water for those hidden in the rocks. Sankana does not advertise as a place for tourists to visit, so the whole atmosphere of this trip was entirely different from the one at Gwollu. After being taken around the rocks to look at the caves and hearing about the history of the place, our group had a meeting with the Sankana Chief and elders. We were again welcomed with kalabash cups full of pito, and then had a very interesting an moving question and answer session with the large group of people assembled there. At one point Sara asked them how the people of Sankana were affected when the slave raiders were successful, and the response was that they were affected in every way imaginable. It was a very powerful moment.
Day Five and Six were when we went to Mole National park. In a later blog, when I have time, I want to write a very detailed Elephant encounter experience, so later on look for that.
Day Seven- We chilled in Tamale and planned for our Independent Study Projects, or ISPs.
Day Eight- Tamale to Kumasi, visit to Kintampo Falls
More traveling- this time with a stop at Kintampo Falls. They were beautiful to see, and a few people took a dip (I was not among them) at the base of the largest fall. It was an interesting place to be because there were about 20 to 30 slightly inebriated Ghanaian and Indian young men sliding down the rocks, splashing in the river, and randomly bursting out into song. Our group of Americans made quite an impression, and were drawn into pictures/had our pictures taken with/by random people for a good 15 minutes. Then we had to grab lunch and get on the bus for Kumasi, some of us lamenting not being able to stay in the water for longer and some of us relieved to be out of the chaos.
Day Nine- Kumasi- 2 lectures and CNC
We had two lectures this day on Art in Ghana and visited the Center for National Culture in Kumasi... not a whole lot to say about this day.
Day Ten- Kumasi- Day ten entailed a visit to a Carving "Village"- basically there were a cornicopia of stalls filled with carvings of all shapes and sizes. With each vender promising you a good price and commiserating with your student status, it is difficult to not be overwhlemed and make some poor decisions. I walked away with a small museum collection's worth of carvings. I'm not really sure what I was thinking. I wish I could say that I imagined purchasing a 2 1/2 foot long mahogany crocodile shaped mancala board named Jafar, but I can't. Dear friends and family- if you don't know how to play mancala, learn fast: I see a Ghanaian themed mancala party/tournament in your future. You have been warned. Also, it was pretty apparent that I got ripped off incredibly at a few places. Imagine my disappointment when, thinking I had just bargained my way to a sweet deal, the merchant I'd been interacting with tells me I've "done well", offers me a free bracelet, and proceeds to carry my small treasure trove to the bus for me. Oh, well. You win some, you accidently vastly overpay for others. Thus is the world of bargaining, at least for me. Leigh is the most ruthless bargainer I have ever met- the sellers would grumble as they handed over her purchases and were always happy to see her leave the shop. No one offered to carry her things to the bus for her, though, so... conclude what you will about how both of our tactics are fostering Ghanaian-American relations. (I must mention, however, that Leigh's bargaining skills were a valuable asset during the purchasing of Jafar, so I am indebted to her and her savvy ways.)
Day Eleven- We returned to Cape Coast.
Ta daaaa!
My next blog will be about my trip to Benin and will be up later in the week. Today is the official start of our ISP time. For the next four weeks we are all on our own academically. We are in charge of conducting a research project that will culminate in a 20-40 page paper. My project is investigating enslavement as tourism and will focus on the transition of various sites from community places to tourist attractions. That's about as far as I am, so I have a long way to go. I'll be in Cape Coast for the first two weeks of my ISP time, and Accra for the last two weeks. Here goes nothing!
Time update: 5 weeks from tomorrow I head back to America. I'm determined to make the most of the time I have left.
Love and miss you all!
Below is what happened on the rest of the Northern trip, but first a thought on the Manhiya Palace Museum tour- I just wanted to note that the idea of preserving physical artifacts simply for the fact of having them is a very Western way to approach things. So, in a way it made sense that the majority of things preserved were from imported cultures. The Ashanti have a strong tradition of oral history, and that is much more difficult to encapsulate in a museum. Though it would be interesting to try! Anywho, just wanted to put that out there for contemplation. Moving on!
Gwollu con't:
Gwollu is a village in the northern most part of Ghana. There are remains of walls there that were built to protect Gwollu and surrounding communities from slave raids. Our group met with the chief and elders of the village first before being taken around to the ruins. We were welcomed in the traditional way, with "water" (or, rather, pito- a drink brewed from millet) served in kalabash cups. We visited the wall remnants, crocodile ponds, and then ran across the border into Burkina Faso for about 2 minutes. The change in countries was only marked by a change in the material used to make electiricty poles- wood in Ghana, and cement in BF. It is always interesting to notice how arbitrary country boundaries can be, particularly because the etnic group that resides in Gwollu, the Sisallah, are found all over Burkina Faso and hardly at all in Ghana. A strange thing that occured during this trip was discovering a tall, scandinavian looking man from Vermont named Adam who accompanied us throughout the day. He is a peacecorps volunteer, there as a business advisor for Gwollu's less than a decade old tourism development project. If anyone is interested I have more to say about our interactions with Adam, but will not go into it here.
Day Four- Visit to Sankana
Sankana is another place where there is physical evidence of resistance to slave raids. There are caves very near the town, and during the time when raids were prominent lookouts were posted at the highest points to watch for dust. Dust clouds in the distance meant the raiders were coming (they used horses to get around), and when they were spotted a horn was blown to warn the residents of Sankana and surrounding towns that the raiders were very near and to seek shelter. There was enough space in the caves for everyone, and most able men would stay out to fight the raiders while women would run between the caves and homes to bring food and water for those hidden in the rocks. Sankana does not advertise as a place for tourists to visit, so the whole atmosphere of this trip was entirely different from the one at Gwollu. After being taken around the rocks to look at the caves and hearing about the history of the place, our group had a meeting with the Sankana Chief and elders. We were again welcomed with kalabash cups full of pito, and then had a very interesting an moving question and answer session with the large group of people assembled there. At one point Sara asked them how the people of Sankana were affected when the slave raiders were successful, and the response was that they were affected in every way imaginable. It was a very powerful moment.
Day Five and Six were when we went to Mole National park. In a later blog, when I have time, I want to write a very detailed Elephant encounter experience, so later on look for that.
Day Seven- We chilled in Tamale and planned for our Independent Study Projects, or ISPs.
Day Eight- Tamale to Kumasi, visit to Kintampo Falls
More traveling- this time with a stop at Kintampo Falls. They were beautiful to see, and a few people took a dip (I was not among them) at the base of the largest fall. It was an interesting place to be because there were about 20 to 30 slightly inebriated Ghanaian and Indian young men sliding down the rocks, splashing in the river, and randomly bursting out into song. Our group of Americans made quite an impression, and were drawn into pictures/had our pictures taken with/by random people for a good 15 minutes. Then we had to grab lunch and get on the bus for Kumasi, some of us lamenting not being able to stay in the water for longer and some of us relieved to be out of the chaos.
Day Nine- Kumasi- 2 lectures and CNC
We had two lectures this day on Art in Ghana and visited the Center for National Culture in Kumasi... not a whole lot to say about this day.
Day Ten- Kumasi- Day ten entailed a visit to a Carving "Village"- basically there were a cornicopia of stalls filled with carvings of all shapes and sizes. With each vender promising you a good price and commiserating with your student status, it is difficult to not be overwhlemed and make some poor decisions. I walked away with a small museum collection's worth of carvings. I'm not really sure what I was thinking. I wish I could say that I imagined purchasing a 2 1/2 foot long mahogany crocodile shaped mancala board named Jafar, but I can't. Dear friends and family- if you don't know how to play mancala, learn fast: I see a Ghanaian themed mancala party/tournament in your future. You have been warned. Also, it was pretty apparent that I got ripped off incredibly at a few places. Imagine my disappointment when, thinking I had just bargained my way to a sweet deal, the merchant I'd been interacting with tells me I've "done well", offers me a free bracelet, and proceeds to carry my small treasure trove to the bus for me. Oh, well. You win some, you accidently vastly overpay for others. Thus is the world of bargaining, at least for me. Leigh is the most ruthless bargainer I have ever met- the sellers would grumble as they handed over her purchases and were always happy to see her leave the shop. No one offered to carry her things to the bus for her, though, so... conclude what you will about how both of our tactics are fostering Ghanaian-American relations. (I must mention, however, that Leigh's bargaining skills were a valuable asset during the purchasing of Jafar, so I am indebted to her and her savvy ways.)
Day Eleven- We returned to Cape Coast.
Ta daaaa!
My next blog will be about my trip to Benin and will be up later in the week. Today is the official start of our ISP time. For the next four weeks we are all on our own academically. We are in charge of conducting a research project that will culminate in a 20-40 page paper. My project is investigating enslavement as tourism and will focus on the transition of various sites from community places to tourist attractions. That's about as far as I am, so I have a long way to go. I'll be in Cape Coast for the first two weeks of my ISP time, and Accra for the last two weeks. Here goes nothing!
Time update: 5 weeks from tomorrow I head back to America. I'm determined to make the most of the time I have left.
Love and miss you all!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Hello, everybody! I arrived in Cape Coast Wednesday after my 11 day trip to the north. I am happy to be back- we were in a few very large cities, so Cape Coast feels like a tame and welcome alternative to the chaos. Here's an account of the trip!
Day One- Trip to Kumasi, visit to Manhiya palace, visit to Bonwire
We left Cape Coast at 9 in the morning, armed with ample snacks and a sense of adventure. We hit Kumasi, the second largest city in GHana, about 4 hours later. After a quick lunch, the group took a guided tour of the Manhiya Palace Museum, the resisdence of the Ashanti kings for most of the 20th century. So far in Ghana I've been on some fairly odd and confusing tours, but this definitely takes the cake. Our guide was an old man with a bizarre and slightly creepy chuckle, that was usually followed by some nervous twitters or, in my case, a spontaneous and confused sputter that forced me to turn my head or physically remove myself from the group. The entire tour through the palace was a strange exhibition on all the ways the West infiltrated the Ashanti kingdom (the exception being the building itself, which was supposed to be a gift to the royal lineage from the British, but the Ashanti king refuse to live in it until it had been paid for by Ashanti money). We learned who was the first king to be Christian. We saw various king's imported work desks and gifted teapots and (my personal favorite) an Israeli manufactured fridge from the 50s that, our guied opened to demonstrate, still works! Cue guide's chuckle and our entire group's confusion as to why we were being shown an old Israeli fridge in the middle of an Ashanti palace in the middle of Ghana. We were shown the different chaise lounges each of the three kings who occupied the palaec used, as well as the guns their ancestors used to spread the Ashanti kingdom into present day Cote D'Ivoire and Togo. It was the largest kingdom in this area of West Africa for a long time, until the British began making inroads into their territory. Some artifacts were great to see, like royal clothes and drums over 100 years old- unfortunately pictures weren't allowed. Three other odd things to note:
1- our guide kept randomly pulling out books on Asante culture from drawers and cabinets whenever we went to a new room. They are the very books in our tiny SIT library that I had used on my last research paper. Halfway through the tour the guide revealed himself to be the author of said books, and that he would be willing to autograph any copies we purchased at the gift shop. Well, I'm sure. It makes me hesitant to cite that particular source again, but just because he's a little bizarre isn't reason enough to discredit his research and years of learning. I accepted long ago that most history majors are a little left of center, right Dad? :)
2- There were seven carved wooden fairly realistic statues throughout the palace. I about had a heart attack when i walked into the first room with them displayed- they weren't as creepy as Madame Toussaud's wax figures, but they're a close second. They depict each king that resided in the palace and the Queen Mother that ruled with them. The 7th figure represented Yaa Asentewa, the Queen Mother responsible for starting a war against the British when they demanded, after capturing and exiling the king, that they be brought the Golden Stool, a very sacred Ashanti artifact. The story goes that Yaa Asentewa's response was, "Tomorrow ghost widows will receive husbands," meaning that they were going to war, men would die, and women without husbands in the afterlife would marry them. Our guide told one of the blond haired, blue eyed Dutch tourists on the tour with us that she looked like a younger Yaa Asentewa. Cue guide's laugh and my need to walk from the room. He also told Nordia that she reminded him of a Queen Mother that he knows, and perhaps one of her ancestors was a Queen Mother. I tried to treat our new royalty accordingly.
3) The guide told us the secret to making sure that another woman wouldn't steal our husbands, other than being a good cook and keeping a clean house, was to change our hairstyle every three months. Then our husbands will think that they are with a new woman every three months and they won't be tempted to stray. Now, why didn't I think of that? Call me old fashioned, but I had always planned on marrying a man that was committed to me because he was in love with me- talk about plans flying out the window! Ladies, spread the word! I've discovered the fool-proof secret to a long and happy marriage!
When the tour ended our group continued our Tourist excursions in Bonwire, the birthplace of Kente cloth. Beautiful cloths lined the walls of a large, open workshop, the center of which was criss-crossed by the long looms that Kente is woven on. Each design means something different, and I got to sit down and try my hand at weaving, but I felt the familiar disappointment associated with when one first attempts a new skill only to find that, alas, God has not blessed one with the innate and magical ability to inexplicably and artistically produce Kente cloth (see also: hip hop dancing, slam poetry, soccer, and that brief stint in my high school Chess Club). Sigh. Onwards and upwards.
I wish I could say my trip to Bonwire was all colorful, meaning steeped Kente and weaving lessons, but it wasn't. Those pesky members of that secret society of Tourist Pesterers that seem to be present at almost every major and minor tourist attraction on the globe have found their way to Ghana as well. The members of my group spent about a half an hour positively surrounded by Kente/souvenir/postcard sellers, fighting our way to quiet corners where we could study our Kente options in peace. I managed to escape with only one of my purchases stemming from guilt and pressure, and so felt pretty good about the whole thing. Everyone was relieved to get back on the bus, and thus ended our adventures for the first day.
Day Two- 4 am trek to Wa
This day consisted of rolling out of bed, grabbing our bags, and loading the bus by 4am. We were heading to Wa, a 7 hour trip north, and we needed to beat traffic out of Mumasi. The rest of the day consisted of sleeping, eating, and card games. Next!
Day Three- Visit to Gwollu
It was about a 3 hour drive north, 2/3rds of which was on unpaved road, to get to Gwollu.
This is all I have time to type at the moment, but I promise to finish the Northern trip soon... er, after I spend the next week in Benin. Sorry for taking so long, but I hope this holds you over!
Day One- Trip to Kumasi, visit to Manhiya palace, visit to Bonwire
We left Cape Coast at 9 in the morning, armed with ample snacks and a sense of adventure. We hit Kumasi, the second largest city in GHana, about 4 hours later. After a quick lunch, the group took a guided tour of the Manhiya Palace Museum, the resisdence of the Ashanti kings for most of the 20th century. So far in Ghana I've been on some fairly odd and confusing tours, but this definitely takes the cake. Our guide was an old man with a bizarre and slightly creepy chuckle, that was usually followed by some nervous twitters or, in my case, a spontaneous and confused sputter that forced me to turn my head or physically remove myself from the group. The entire tour through the palace was a strange exhibition on all the ways the West infiltrated the Ashanti kingdom (the exception being the building itself, which was supposed to be a gift to the royal lineage from the British, but the Ashanti king refuse to live in it until it had been paid for by Ashanti money). We learned who was the first king to be Christian. We saw various king's imported work desks and gifted teapots and (my personal favorite) an Israeli manufactured fridge from the 50s that, our guied opened to demonstrate, still works! Cue guide's chuckle and our entire group's confusion as to why we were being shown an old Israeli fridge in the middle of an Ashanti palace in the middle of Ghana. We were shown the different chaise lounges each of the three kings who occupied the palaec used, as well as the guns their ancestors used to spread the Ashanti kingdom into present day Cote D'Ivoire and Togo. It was the largest kingdom in this area of West Africa for a long time, until the British began making inroads into their territory. Some artifacts were great to see, like royal clothes and drums over 100 years old- unfortunately pictures weren't allowed. Three other odd things to note:
1- our guide kept randomly pulling out books on Asante culture from drawers and cabinets whenever we went to a new room. They are the very books in our tiny SIT library that I had used on my last research paper. Halfway through the tour the guide revealed himself to be the author of said books, and that he would be willing to autograph any copies we purchased at the gift shop. Well, I'm sure. It makes me hesitant to cite that particular source again, but just because he's a little bizarre isn't reason enough to discredit his research and years of learning. I accepted long ago that most history majors are a little left of center, right Dad? :)
2- There were seven carved wooden fairly realistic statues throughout the palace. I about had a heart attack when i walked into the first room with them displayed- they weren't as creepy as Madame Toussaud's wax figures, but they're a close second. They depict each king that resided in the palace and the Queen Mother that ruled with them. The 7th figure represented Yaa Asentewa, the Queen Mother responsible for starting a war against the British when they demanded, after capturing and exiling the king, that they be brought the Golden Stool, a very sacred Ashanti artifact. The story goes that Yaa Asentewa's response was, "Tomorrow ghost widows will receive husbands," meaning that they were going to war, men would die, and women without husbands in the afterlife would marry them. Our guide told one of the blond haired, blue eyed Dutch tourists on the tour with us that she looked like a younger Yaa Asentewa. Cue guide's laugh and my need to walk from the room. He also told Nordia that she reminded him of a Queen Mother that he knows, and perhaps one of her ancestors was a Queen Mother. I tried to treat our new royalty accordingly.
3) The guide told us the secret to making sure that another woman wouldn't steal our husbands, other than being a good cook and keeping a clean house, was to change our hairstyle every three months. Then our husbands will think that they are with a new woman every three months and they won't be tempted to stray. Now, why didn't I think of that? Call me old fashioned, but I had always planned on marrying a man that was committed to me because he was in love with me- talk about plans flying out the window! Ladies, spread the word! I've discovered the fool-proof secret to a long and happy marriage!
When the tour ended our group continued our Tourist excursions in Bonwire, the birthplace of Kente cloth. Beautiful cloths lined the walls of a large, open workshop, the center of which was criss-crossed by the long looms that Kente is woven on. Each design means something different, and I got to sit down and try my hand at weaving, but I felt the familiar disappointment associated with when one first attempts a new skill only to find that, alas, God has not blessed one with the innate and magical ability to inexplicably and artistically produce Kente cloth (see also: hip hop dancing, slam poetry, soccer, and that brief stint in my high school Chess Club). Sigh. Onwards and upwards.
I wish I could say my trip to Bonwire was all colorful, meaning steeped Kente and weaving lessons, but it wasn't. Those pesky members of that secret society of Tourist Pesterers that seem to be present at almost every major and minor tourist attraction on the globe have found their way to Ghana as well. The members of my group spent about a half an hour positively surrounded by Kente/souvenir/postcard sellers, fighting our way to quiet corners where we could study our Kente options in peace. I managed to escape with only one of my purchases stemming from guilt and pressure, and so felt pretty good about the whole thing. Everyone was relieved to get back on the bus, and thus ended our adventures for the first day.
Day Two- 4 am trek to Wa
This day consisted of rolling out of bed, grabbing our bags, and loading the bus by 4am. We were heading to Wa, a 7 hour trip north, and we needed to beat traffic out of Mumasi. The rest of the day consisted of sleeping, eating, and card games. Next!
Day Three- Visit to Gwollu
It was about a 3 hour drive north, 2/3rds of which was on unpaved road, to get to Gwollu.
This is all I have time to type at the moment, but I promise to finish the Northern trip soon... er, after I spend the next week in Benin. Sorry for taking so long, but I hope this holds you over!
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