Growing pains

“I can’t believe how tired I am.” Patrick was barely keeping his head off the table at Chez Afrique, where we had eaten lunch just days after arriving in Accra. He had slept fine the night before but the midday slump had hit hard.

“It’s like we’re babies,” I said. “We’re experiencing all these new things just like a newborn.” The comment made my lunchmates laugh, but it makes sense to me. I’d argue that we were lucky to not be sleeping as much as an infant, and so far, we’d all held off on the squalling.

The idea of my being a baby here in Ghana keeps coming up. My eyes are wide, and I try to comprehend the unfamiliar customs, phrases and language around me.

Babies also need care. I am humbled by how much I have come to rely on my fellow students, our program director Leslie, new Ghanaian friends and complete strangers. Back at the house, we students share our food, lend each other Tums and count heads on the bus so we don’t leave anyone behind. Leslie plans our trips, tells us how much we should pay for taxis and secured internships at some of the nation’s most respected media outlets. Just this morning Sonny, whom many of us regard as a sort of Ghanaian guardian angel, texted me directions on an alternate trotro route. And I’d be able to buy hundreds of mangos if I had one cedi for every time a stranger helped me figure out how to get to work or home.

I feel vulnerable much of the time. I am often lost or confused. My helplessness has led me to trust in people much more than I would at home. I do not throw caution to the wind, of course; this morning I declined someone’s offer to walk me to the next stop because I got a sketchy vibe from him. Every time I have accepted an offer of help, though, the assistance was given freely and without expectation.

If I was a newborn when my plane touched down, then I’m a toddler now. The trotro isn’t quite as terrifying, I’m figuring out how to feed myself as a vegetarian here and I’m making friends at work.

I’m growing up.

-Catherine Ryan