Today is the end date of our program and some of my really good friends are leaving for the US. Naturally we have spent the last couple of days being nostalgic, reminiscing about how we met, the good and bad times we had and everything in between. To think you can become this close with people in such a short amount of time is astounding. I often forget that we don't all go to school together and that once we separate that's it. There will be no more late night ramen cookings, no more "whipping our hair back and forth", no spur of the moment side trips or hanging out at the "Player's Club". We are scattered to the wind never to all reunite under the same roof. My roommate Jazmine however is convinced that we need to have a 10 year reunion but really I believe that is too optimistic to believe that it will come true. Looking around at my friends I often wonder, "Would I have been friends with this person had we met at school?" To answer truthfully I feel that I have met so many different personalities that we would have never crossed paths should we have gone to the same school. While this thought saddens me I am also happy that this opportunity to meet and befriend so many cool and different people was even possible.
It's been a little over 4 months now and the time has literally flown by. I feel I've been here a grand total of like 3 weeks but then when I look over all the photos I've taken (923) I realize that I have seen so many amazing things and been part of so many unique experiences. While a part of me is happy to return home (eat some good food, visit old friends and see family) the majority of me wants to stay here. The other day I was walking back from Shiashie to Electricity (an hour's walk) and it hit me. This is not my home. I don't live here. I am not even from this country. This revelation shocked me because sometimes I feel that I do live here and that I am at home. How can this be? Is it because I love Ghana so much or is it because I've been thrown into this foreign country and forced to figure things out on my own? Whatever the reason it's made me think a lot about national and cultural identity and what my own identity is. This is not to say I never feel like a foreigner here because that would be just a bold-faced lie. Hearing the calls of "Oburoni! Oburoni!" or taxi drivers trying to overprice rides or men calling on the street, "I love you, white lady! I want to marry you!" never lets you forget that not only do you physically stand out here but that the way you move, talk and approach social situations also differ to that of this culture. In turn I feel I've amalgamated bits and pieces of the culture to create a person who is not only a foreigner here but will be one when I return to the US. My pace of life has slowed, my talking as well, the slang I use my American friends back home are confused by and the way I interact with people is different as well. I think I can bargain for anything and I've grown accustomed to drinking water out of plastic bags. I feel that I never really experienced culture shock coming here but that I will experience it when I return, something I feel many people will have trouble understanding unless they themselves studied in a developing country. Either way coming home will be bittersweet but seeing the people I love and have known for so many years will definitely help acclimate me back into American culture.
As my friends are leaving and my Ghanaian friends are realizing I leave soon as well I am always questioned with "Will you come back?" My immediate response is "Yes! Of course!" But then I begin to think and wonder if this is actually true or if the allure of traveling to new countries will be too tempting and visiting Ghana again will be put on the back-burner. The people I have met here have made this an incredible experience and I would be coming back to see them even if for only a little bit and not the 4.5 months I have spent here this semester. We will see what the future holds but I know that I would definitely be up for returning at some point in my life if only to eat some banku and okro soup.
With only 3 to 4 days left I have begun disassembling my room and beginning to pack away my things. It's strange because I will never see this dorm room again, a room that has so many memories of Jazmine (my roommate), of friends visiting, of oompa loompa dances, of drumming and dance sessions, food poisoning, malaria, and many other memories both enjoyable and ones that were not as fun. Seeing my room everyday was so commonplace that I never took a picture of it and now to take a picture of it would not be doing it justice due to its haphazard state and the process of packing. I've realized that the things I see everyday are the things you guys want to see most; trotros, wandering goats, my dorm room, campus, my Ghanaian friends, eating banku and fufu, etc. and yet these are the things I have no photos of. They now seem so common to me that I forget it's not common for everyone else to see back home. These last few days will be spent running around campus and Accra taking pictures of things that seem so inconsequential to me now but will seem so strange and foreign to my family and friends.
So as I sit here reflecting in my room of disarray I realize that my study abroad experience I could not have traded for the world. I think studying in Africa, a continent that gets you strange looks when you mention studying there, has taught me so many life lessons that I could not have learned elsewhere. I only hope studying abroad in Costa Rica next semester will be as eye-opening, educational and ultimately enjoyable as this experience has been. But now if there is one thing I have learned for next semester it is that I definitely need to take some Mac n' cheese, something I consider almost a delicacy after going so long without dairy products. :) Until I see you all, nante yie. And happy holidays.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thanksgiving in a bus station, Mole National Park and Malaria
We arrived in Tamale at 8:30 AM the next day and toured the city a little bit. Not going to lie but there was really nothing to do/see in Tamale. And so Jack, Gustav and I made our way onto Larabanga via a 5 hour bus ride on a road infamous for its bumps and potholes. It really wasn't that bad though and we made our way to Larabanga around 7 PM and stayed at the Salia Brothers Guesthouse. We slept on the roof and there were so many stars. It was also extremely cold as well but was worth braving the cold in order to sleep under the stars and listen to the town's drums and the call to prayer in the morning (Northern Ghana is mostly Muslim).
The next morning we arose early in order to make the early morning safari walk in Mole National Park. We hired motorbikes and made our way to the park only to find out that we missed the morning walk by like 15 minutes and so we had to hang around until the afternoon walk that would be at 3:30 PM. Jack, Gustav and I just chilled at the Mole Motel, the only accommodation in the park. It overlooks a large watering hole that usually elephants and many other animals can be spotted. Unfortunately we did not see any at that time though.
The afternoon safari walk allowed us to see warthogs, bushbuck, baboons and kob. No elephants. But plenty of tracks though. Apparently this is not the best time to see elephants because it is not dry season and so they are not forced to come to this nearby watering hole and instead find water in the rest of the park's expanse (approximately 4840 square km). This just means that I will have to return to Ghana one day so that I may finally be able to see elephants. Even so the park was absolutely gorgeous and we were even able to camp there which actually was a bit frightening since we were awoken in the middle of the night by piercing baboon screams.
The next morning after a sunrise safari walk we were on our way to the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary in the Upper West Region. We grabbed motorbikes from Mole back to Larabanga and only made it just in time to catch the MMT bus to Wa. Wa is the capital of the Bole District in the Upper West Region and has a population of approximately 80,000. It was a neat little town and was what the guide book described as "unimposing". I had been wearing shorts when we arrived there and I was starting to get some strange looks. I realized that no other female around me had pants or skirts/dresses that were above the knee and so I quickly changed so as not to offend the mostly Muslim population.
After hopping a trotro to Wechiau we then made our way to the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary Tourist Centre where we rented bikes to make it to the sanctuary. It was an 18 km ride which would have been I think a little more fun if one the road was paved, and two if we hadn't biked at midday in the scorching sun/heat. Finally arriving, I was so tired I proceeded to nap. And nap. And nap. Until finally I realized that I was sick and was having trouble moving due to stiffness. I was also so incredibly HOT probably because I was running a 104 degree fever in the middle of the savanna. And let me tell you, we were literally in the middle of the savanna/i.e. nowhere. That first night was really rough and I thought at first I might feel better in the morning, when we were supposed to do our canoe safari/hippo viewing. But unfortunately this did not happen. I only proceeded to get worse and worse, not being able to take any food/water before throwing it back up and my fever and stiffness were unmanageable. Once my friends realized how serious my condition was they agreed that I needed to go to the clinic in Wechiau. My guide thought that I'd be able to bike the 18km back to Wechiau and I told him that he was for lack of a better word, "insane". Magically an air-conditioned SUV appeared and offered me a ride back to Wechiau/the clinic there.
Walking into the Wechiau Clinic was a strange experience. There was a long queue, about 50 people waiting to be treated, mostly mothers with their sick children. And what happens? They put the "oburoni" to the front of the line. I felt so incredibly bad and protested but they would not have it. I felt so incredibly guilty and tried to express in my face how sorry and guilty I felt for being put to the front of the line simply because I am white. It made me realize why some Ghanaians view "oburonis" in a negative light because of the special treatment we sometimes receive.
Meeting with the doctor and explaining my symptoms he then told me that they could not test for malaria because as he said "their lab man had traveled". He supposed that it was malaria and so just gave me the medicine for it. Only problem was I couldn't keep anything down, including the medicine.
Realizing I needed to get back to Accra to go to the University Hospital my friends and I traveled back to Wa (via trotro and with me throwing up the entire ride). We had booked bus tickets for Wednesday (this now being Tuesday) and so we stayed in the Seinu Hotel, the hotel we stayed at the first time in Wa. We didn't notice until the second time around but see that ripped off sign on the front door? Well that was sign from the Ghana Tourist Board stating that the hotel be shut down immediately due to faulty wiring, etc. It actually was a pretty decent hotel in my opinion but it was funny to see all the same.
On Wednesday our bus was to leave at 5:30 PM. This meant that I just slept on a bench the entire day at the O & A bus station while Jack and Gustav explored Wa. Not only was it hot (especially with a fever) but I was very delirious as well. Apparently (I don't remember this) but I called my mom at work and left a message describing/listing all the food I wanted when I got home. As you can tell, I was a little out of it and couldn't wait to be back in Accra or even home. Being sick I've realized definitely makes you homesick which only makes things worse.
The bus ride that proceeded was THE WORST NIGHT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. One, the road is infamous for being bumpy and when you are nauseous and throwing up this does not bode well. On top of it the bus was freezing which was good for my feverish head but not for the chills in my body. Then from 7 PM to 4 AM they played Ghanaian movies on the TV so loudly. Ghanaian movies tend to be very dramatic and include a lot of fighting, yelling, rape scenes, etc. (think Spanish soap operas). Every time I fell asleep I was either awoken by the movies, throwing up or by the horrific nauseous feeling. The ride back to Accra was horrible and I hope I never have to go through that experience again.
We arrived at the Achimota bus station at around 5 AM. We then hailed a taxi to take us to the emergency room at the University Hospital across from campus. As we were driving through West Legon our cab started to slow down due to early morning traffic. I was sitting in the passenger seat with the window down and my wallet underneath my legs and one of my hands holding it. THEN (!) out of the bushes/hedge to the right leaps a man who reaches in to the cab and grabs my wallet. Fortunately I was holding on too tightly for him to get it and he gave up and ran back in to the bushes. So to recap: I am exhausted and on my way to the emergency room to be treated for malaria when I am almost robbed. Can things get any worse? Yes, yes they can.
In the emergency room with Gustav and Jack I am so exhausted and frazzled I am just sitting there. Then to our right and through the front door 4 men roll a young man in on a gurney. He looks unconscious and has no visible injury on him. They take him into the open hallway (5 ft in front of me) where the doctor pronounces him dead (checks his pulse and lifts his arm to watch it slap back onto the metal gurney). This is where I lost it. Not only am I irrationally thinking I am going to die (give me a break, I was really sick and exhausted and not thinking clearly) but to see this young man be pronounced dead in front of his family and friends and to see their grief was almost unbearable. I start crying hysterically because I don't think I can handle anymore. I have never seen a dead body outside a funeral and to be honest it scared me a bit. Seeing his family grieve too was especially difficult to bear. What is worse is they just left him there in the open hallway. There was no morgue. They don't even cover his body and so everyone in the emergency room waiting to be treated has to witness this dead body, reminding them of their own mortality. Finally once the family has arranged transport (a beat up pick-up truck) they wrap the young man in a "The Hulk" blanket and put him in the bed of the pickup truck with his family sitting around the edges. It was one of the saddest things I have ever seen and I know I will remember it forever.
After receiving injections and medications I made my way back to Pentagon (my dorm) and just rested. My Twi final was to be the next day but I was in no condition to study. Let's just say my Twi final the next day did not fare so well and fortunately Tulane is not going to count that class towards my GPA due to medical reasons.
 |
| Elephant tracks |
The next morning after a sunrise safari walk we were on our way to the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary in the Upper West Region. We grabbed motorbikes from Mole back to Larabanga and only made it just in time to catch the MMT bus to Wa. Wa is the capital of the Bole District in the Upper West Region and has a population of approximately 80,000. It was a neat little town and was what the guide book described as "unimposing". I had been wearing shorts when we arrived there and I was starting to get some strange looks. I realized that no other female around me had pants or skirts/dresses that were above the knee and so I quickly changed so as not to offend the mostly Muslim population.
 |
| Jack in the Tourist Centre |
Walking into the Wechiau Clinic was a strange experience. There was a long queue, about 50 people waiting to be treated, mostly mothers with their sick children. And what happens? They put the "oburoni" to the front of the line. I felt so incredibly bad and protested but they would not have it. I felt so incredibly guilty and tried to express in my face how sorry and guilty I felt for being put to the front of the line simply because I am white. It made me realize why some Ghanaians view "oburonis" in a negative light because of the special treatment we sometimes receive.
Meeting with the doctor and explaining my symptoms he then told me that they could not test for malaria because as he said "their lab man had traveled". He supposed that it was malaria and so just gave me the medicine for it. Only problem was I couldn't keep anything down, including the medicine.
On Wednesday our bus was to leave at 5:30 PM. This meant that I just slept on a bench the entire day at the O & A bus station while Jack and Gustav explored Wa. Not only was it hot (especially with a fever) but I was very delirious as well. Apparently (I don't remember this) but I called my mom at work and left a message describing/listing all the food I wanted when I got home. As you can tell, I was a little out of it and couldn't wait to be back in Accra or even home. Being sick I've realized definitely makes you homesick which only makes things worse.
The bus ride that proceeded was THE WORST NIGHT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. One, the road is infamous for being bumpy and when you are nauseous and throwing up this does not bode well. On top of it the bus was freezing which was good for my feverish head but not for the chills in my body. Then from 7 PM to 4 AM they played Ghanaian movies on the TV so loudly. Ghanaian movies tend to be very dramatic and include a lot of fighting, yelling, rape scenes, etc. (think Spanish soap operas). Every time I fell asleep I was either awoken by the movies, throwing up or by the horrific nauseous feeling. The ride back to Accra was horrible and I hope I never have to go through that experience again.
We arrived at the Achimota bus station at around 5 AM. We then hailed a taxi to take us to the emergency room at the University Hospital across from campus. As we were driving through West Legon our cab started to slow down due to early morning traffic. I was sitting in the passenger seat with the window down and my wallet underneath my legs and one of my hands holding it. THEN (!) out of the bushes/hedge to the right leaps a man who reaches in to the cab and grabs my wallet. Fortunately I was holding on too tightly for him to get it and he gave up and ran back in to the bushes. So to recap: I am exhausted and on my way to the emergency room to be treated for malaria when I am almost robbed. Can things get any worse? Yes, yes they can.
In the emergency room with Gustav and Jack I am so exhausted and frazzled I am just sitting there. Then to our right and through the front door 4 men roll a young man in on a gurney. He looks unconscious and has no visible injury on him. They take him into the open hallway (5 ft in front of me) where the doctor pronounces him dead (checks his pulse and lifts his arm to watch it slap back onto the metal gurney). This is where I lost it. Not only am I irrationally thinking I am going to die (give me a break, I was really sick and exhausted and not thinking clearly) but to see this young man be pronounced dead in front of his family and friends and to see their grief was almost unbearable. I start crying hysterically because I don't think I can handle anymore. I have never seen a dead body outside a funeral and to be honest it scared me a bit. Seeing his family grieve too was especially difficult to bear. What is worse is they just left him there in the open hallway. There was no morgue. They don't even cover his body and so everyone in the emergency room waiting to be treated has to witness this dead body, reminding them of their own mortality. Finally once the family has arranged transport (a beat up pick-up truck) they wrap the young man in a "The Hulk" blanket and put him in the bed of the pickup truck with his family sitting around the edges. It was one of the saddest things I have ever seen and I know I will remember it forever.
After receiving injections and medications I made my way back to Pentagon (my dorm) and just rested. My Twi final was to be the next day but I was in no condition to study. Let's just say my Twi final the next day did not fare so well and fortunately Tulane is not going to count that class towards my GPA due to medical reasons.
And so concludes my trip to the North. Overall I would say it was a great experience (besides contracting malaria) but it allowed me to see sights I never would have seen near Accra and taught me a lot of life lessons. I know that one day I will return and finally get to see the elephants and hippos that I had planned to see in the first place and this time I will do the trip right (i.e. not get malaria/sick during the trip). See you soon. Nante yie.
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