A Week's Adventure in GhanaAn EAP student shares his thoughts on his first two weeks at the University of Ghana, as he adjusts to the life and culture around him
by Max Harrington, UC San Diego
I'm still not sure what I think of the food here, as I'm still trying new things all the time. Many things are cooked in palm oil, a thick red substance that gives many foods an oily consistency and a reddish color. Starches such as plantains, cassava, and yam are very prominent, as is rice. "Yams" here, however, are not yams as we know them in the United States. Here, they are huge roots that are heavy enough to club somebody unconscious with. Also, they have a white flesh that tastes nothing like the yams back home. It has quickly become obvious that those Americans who came with the least expectations and the least assumptions seem to be doing the best in adjusting to Ghanaian society and culture. I like to describe myself as somewhat of an emotionally neutral person: while it's hard for me to get excited about too much, it's also hard for me to get upset about a whole lot. Those Americans who came with the least expectations and the least assumptions seem to be doing the best in adjusting to Ghanaian society and culture. This quality I think has managed to serve me well here; the daily frustrations that are very common occurrences have yet to make me bitter or frustrated to the point of explosion. In fact, I am happy that there has only been one thing that has made me frustrated. While most Ghanaians are good, decent people, we Americans seem to unfortunately be attracting a larger share of the bad ones than would normally be the case were we Ghanaians. More than a few people have come up to me, pretending to be friendly, only to eventually acknowledge that they are only talking to me because they want something: to wash my clothes for money, for example, or sometimes they ask for money straight up. Anyways, on to a different topic! Most of us ("us" meaning the group of UC students) took advantage of the wonderful opportunity of living with a Ghanaian family last weekend. I was sent to live with a host family in Acuse, which is about two hours northeast of Accra. Acuse is located approximately thirty minutes south of the Akosombo dam, which has the honor of having created Lake Volta, the largest human-made lake in the world. My host family consisted of a mother and two daughters, one my age and one about 12 years old. My younger host sister was a doll; we played chess and dominos, and I had a lot of fun teasing her by pointing to imaginary elephants, toads, lizards, cars, and anything else I could think of, in the distance (which she hilariously fell for over and over again). My host mother decided that because I am skinny this fact must mean that I have the body mass to eat about twice the amount of food that I normally would. I was expected to eat everything that was put down in front of me over the weekend, and I didn't even have any control over how much food I was given in the first place.
Earlier last week, we also had the opportunity of traveling to two of Ghana's coastal castles, remnants from the time when the Europeans exported first gold and then slaves from Ghana's coast. They were impressive, but also maddeningly depressing at the same time. The tour was started with the rather innocuous parts, where the 'lesser' evils were committed. We saw the balconies where the Dutch and British governors would stand and pick from among the most beautiful female slaves, to rape them for days at a time. This was only the beginning. We then descended into the dungeons where slaves were kept before their departure on ships to the Americas. Packed hundreds into a small room, they were given only the minimal amount of food per day necessary to keep them alive, without even a bowl to eat it in. "Going to the bathroom" was accomplished by defecating straight onto the floor, which was never washed. During excavations of the castle rooms after Ghana's independence, layers of "floor" were discovered on top of the original brick and mortar, layers made of fecal matter and broken shackles which had hardened overtime. The last place we visited was the windowless, airless, and light-less room where troublesome slaves (the 'freedom fighters') were sent to die from starvation and suffocation. I had never seen such things. My own crying was among the mildest of reactions to what we saw. Many broke down in convulsions, while others started to hyperventilate. Amazingly enough, considering what the Europeans did to Ghana during that horrible time period, and indeed to Africa, the Ghanaian people have continued to survive, to live, even to prosper, but most importantly they have forgiven. Considering the depressing history of the castles, it is amazing to me that today they are surrounded by signs of life. As they are on the ocean (an obvious necessity for ensuring easy transport of slaves from Africa's coast), the castles today are surrounded by fishermen and vendors of all sorts, by homes and shops, by playing children. One can be cynical and say that we Americans, we foreigners, we "obruni" are only being embraced with open arms by these Ghanaians because of the money that we bring, but I believe, and I have seen, that their welcome exists on a deeper level as well. There are those, as I have described, that will try and take advantage of us, try to con and cheat us out of our money or belongings, but they only seem prominent because they seek us out specifically. Most are good, kind people, people that make me happy that I have chosen to come here. |
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he last two weeks have been somewhat of a blur. Even though
I am actually getting more sleep than I usually do back home,
and have more time to just walk around, talk, eat, even breathe,
than I ever did in San Diego, I feel like I've gone through
a lot more in two weeks here than could have been possible
in California. The simple things—eating, walking, talking,
yes, even breathing (I'll explain)—are full of so many
memories and experiences as everything is so intensely different.
