Well, finally time to discuss my reason (partially) for coming to Ghana – INTERNSHIPS! Internships started Monday the 30th of June, so this post will discuss all that and more about my first week at LOWE (Tuesday was a Ghanaian Holiday, which is why Day 12 will have its own separate post).
The group awoke early Monday morning and prepped for my first day on the job, not knowing what to expect. We were told before coming to Ghana that work attire is business casual – Ghanaians dress up almost every day and love to look good in a professional setting. I wear a button up shirt, khaki slacks, dress shoes, and a belt to work every day. For the most part I fit right in – some men wear ties and suit jackets. Others wear dark jeans and a button-up. I do not look out of place in terms of wardrobe, but considering there are no dry cleaners to take my formalwear when dirty, these next five weeks should prove rather interesting. The hardest part about my work attire is attempting not to sweating through my outfit day in and day out; walking around in good-quality shirts and long pants is difficult during the rainy (but still very hot and humid) season.
Our group on the first day of internships:
Sixteen students left our house in two groups, myself in a smaller batch headed towards Osu, the “West End” of Accra known for being rather lively, full of businesses, restaurants, and nightlife venues. I’m also fairly close to the beach, so that’s swell. Luckily the van dropped us off on Day 1, so braving our fear of the public transportation system (known here as tro-tros) would have to wait. I arrived around 10 a.m. and was escorted inside by the driver, who came to ensure every place would accept each student. Apparently it’s fairly common for agencies to forget an intern is beginning work, or misread the dates of employment. Regrouping later that night, we found both to be quite common.
The contact woman (my boss) for LOWE was apparently out of the country, so I waited a few minutes in the lobby before heading upstairs. While LOWE looks like somewhat of a warehouse on the exterior, the inside proved pleasantly surprising. As the largest and oldest ad agency in Ghana, LOWE employs roughly 40 men and women and divides itself into several different departments, all dealing with various aspects of brand development. I was placed in a conference room and told to watch the World Cup, while the woman who seemed like a possible replacement boss gathered together some paperwork from her office.
First floor lobby at LOWE:
Second floor offices:
This woman returned 40 minutes later to inform me that with tomorrow (Tuesday) being a Ghanaian holiday and all, it would be best to start work on Wednesday. After an early morning rise, suiting up, traveling through traffic, and spending roughly 45 minutes sitting around, I was simply told to come back at 8 a.m. on Wednesday. Not wanting to argue or overstay my welcome, an employee walked me roughly five minutes away to the nearest tro-tro station. With a very brief and highly confusing set of directions written by my boss to reach home, I said farewell to this man and awaited the next tro-tro. Alone in Ghana…no problem, right?
The Ghanaian public transportation system is known as the ‘tro-tro’. The best way I can describe a tro-tro is a Volkswagen bus in which all the seats have been torn out and replaced with smaller, crappier seats in attempt to fit more passengers. A normal VW Bus may hold 10-15 passengers, while a tro-tro of equivalent size fits 16-20. You sit four to a row (the fourth seat in each row folds in/out), with no leg room, and my head almost always hits the top of the van. If a passenger in the back needs to get off, all passengers blocking his/her way must also exit and then hop back on. Very inconvenient, especially on a busy day when stops are made every few minutes. There is no AC and radio only on rare occasions. If I am riding a tro-tro home from work in traffic (which is ever-present), the interior temperature rises at an alarming rate due to lack of airflow. Often times the doors are falling apart, seats broken, and once, my entire van stopped working mid-drive on the highway. Every tro-tro is operated by two men – the driver, and a mate, who sits by the window shouting locations out to potential passengers and collects fares once these passengers have stepped inside. Rides are ridiculously cheap, which is why tro-tros are so heavily utilized. I can get to and from work with the U.S. equivalent of $2. When a tro-tro pulls up to let passengers in/out, the man sitting by the window collecting money will shout the tro-tro route name. There are no street signs or names in Ghana, so routes are understood via landmarks and junctions. All Ghanaians are obviously accustomed to such names, but being a foreigner, it is very difficult to understand what these men shout, and where one tro-tro may lead. It’s essentially a lot of trial and error until you familiarize yourself with the sounds of something that successfully reaches your final destination. Keep in mind the horrible Accra traffic and you’ve got an highly unenjoyable daily commute.
I have trouble snapping any tro-tro pictures because Ghaianas do not take fancy to their picture being taken (for the most part). If caught photographing a stranger or group of people you do not know, men and women will get in your face and question your motives in a hostile manner. To many, a picture violates privacy for personal profit or satisfaction (even though this is largely untrue when assessing my motives). Seeing as I don’t want to start any conflict, here’s a picture off the internet of a tro-tro:
Despite the misery of such a commute, Ghanaians are extremely friendly and willing to lend a helping hand more often than not. Countless times Ghanaians have overheard my attempts to tell the car operator of my destination, and will remind me of my stop or transfer. I am never afraid or uncomfortable to ask a stranger for directions. One time, Spencer and I did not get off the tro-tro at an appropriate time, and the driver pulled over, flagged down another vehicle, and made sure it would drop us at the correct junction. He even paid for our fare. The hospitality and care here is often surreal, and I am surprised/reminded in little ways almost every day that kindness is simple. Doing something that seems so meaningless can actually mean the world to someone, so don’t doubt your actions when you carry good intentions.
Anyways, after getting on my first tro-tro ride to head back home after 45 minutes at my internship, I showed a man my written directions asking when to transfer. This man, who I didn’t know whatsoever, accompanied me the entire way home. I told him this act was unnecessary considering his route and mine were opposites, but he insisted. Again, wow. Thanks to a total stranger, I survived my first tro-tro ride and arrived home successfully. He never asked for anything, but rather, insisted that I buy water or a snack while waiting in traffic to ensure I wasn’t hungry or dehydrated. Kindness is simple.
I found Spencer at the house (turns out his internship is two blocks from mine), and Casey, who is still waiting on confirmation from a possible PR firm. Seeing as we now had the whole day available, the three of us walked around the block and swam in the Erata Hotel’s pool for several hours. You could say this pool day was much needed after a stressful and disappointing first day. Everyone met our program director for dinner that evening. There were mixed reviews in regards to internships – but a general consensus that we looked forward to returning come Wednesday.
On Wednesday we awoke at 6 a.m. to leave by 7 a.m., giving ourselves an hour to brave traffic. We saw our friend Jonas driving Sumi to work and hopped in his car – I’m tight on money and a free ride sounded ideal for such an early morning. The car ride was miserable – cramped, hot, humid and rainy. Jonas said we were lucky to have crossed paths, and should allow ourselves two hours to commute from our house to Osu. This means waking up at 5 a.m. from now on…joy. Anyways, Jonas dropped Spencer and I at our first tro-tro stop, meaning we completely bypassed a majority of our journey on the tro-tro. Our first tro-tro ride usually lasts an hour. We get off at a stop named ‘GBC,’ cross the street, and hop on a ‘Labadi’ tro-tro for roughly five minutes. We took the Labadi tro-tro no problem, exited without hesitation, but stopped in our tracks shortly afterwards. Where exactly were our internships in relation to this stop? I didn’t quite recall the exact route that man led me down two days prior, and Spencer hadn’t a clue either. Did I mention the intensity of rain? While on our second tro-tro, it began raining cats, dogs, sheep, donkeys, and chickens. Spencer and I wandered around aimlessly for 30 minutes in a monsoon, our clothes completely soaked after a mere 30 seconds. It was absolutely miserable and I couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic this situation unfolded. Talk about starting off the second day positively, right? Seeing as I had no idea on my whereabouts, I gave my phone to a local who called my boss and directed her towards our location. She found me within five minutes…how laughable. As I rode in the passenger’s seat to back to the office, sopping wet and looking absolutely pathetic, I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps this might be the worst first impression I have ever made on an authority/boss figure. If any future employer reads this by some slim chance, I promise I am usually always early and never this unlucky or sloppy. I knew this entire experience would be something to look back and laugh on, but on this particular day, 9 hours never seemed longer nor more unpleasant. I arrive at 8 a.m. soaking wet to discover myself and the other interns are touring the facility and meeting all 40+ staff. Myself and two other interns were led by a woman through each room and introduced to every.single.employee. Talk about humiliating. I felt like a defeated wet blanket and couldn’t really focus on anything but my cold skin and less than ideal condition. I spent the rest of the day sitting around not doing much of anything, mostly trying to figure out ways to dry off. Not wanting to overstep any boundaries or cross lines the first real day on the job, I didn’t break for lunch and tried to stay out of the way. Normally I’d be very outgoing and ready to hit the ground running, but I am unsure about Ghanaian work environment culture and my less than ideal state made any desires to seek involvement vanish. I took a cab home around 5 p.m. because frankly, I didn’t want a 2+ hour commute home in my damp clothing.
Thursday was very similar to Wednesday, but this time I came prepared. I brought an umbrella and backpack filled with snacks, water, and my laptop + charger. I started in the media department, which includes all things having to do with social media, online promotion, and publicity. I talked with a few department heads but found myself sitting around from roughly 11 a.m. onwards. My co-workers are all very friendly, but nobody seems to care that I am literally sitting around on my laptop doing nothing. After an initial ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon,’ nobody bothers to ask how I am, what I am working on, or what I’ve been doing. I don’t expect phenomenal treatment, but things here are just different, and I still haven’t adjusted my expectations of what one would assume to happen in the U.S. to what happens in Ghana. Hopefully conditions improve and business picks up. I do not enjoy wasting time.
It took two and a half hours to commute home that evening. I left at 5 p.m. and arrived home around 7:30 p.m. – despite this distance being roughly a 20 minute drive had there been no traffic. Riding a tro-tro is one thing, but trying to secure a spot during rush hour(s) is a whole other. Often times tro-tros are at or over capacity, and when there is free space, it is usually no more than one or two seats. You’ll have a group of 10-40 people waiting to get on the tro-tro that more often than not is headed in the direction everybody wants, which means pushing and shoving in attempt to make your way on. There is no line, no ordering system…nothing. If you can claw your way ahead of everybody else, you’ll make it on the tro-tro. Seeing as I don’t want to tick off or fight any locals, I patiently waited my turn for an hour and a half. I’m really missing my own car.
For the first time in roughly two weeks, I’m starting to realize the brutality of the average working Ghanaian’s lifestyle. Waking up at 5 a.m., working from 8 a.m.-5 p.m., and then commuting home takes up the entirety of each weekday. Traffic sucks. Tro-tros are uncomfortable. Enjoyment and relaxation during the week is nonexistent. My life for the next five weeks will be waking up, commuting, working, commuting, and sleeping (at least Mon-Thurs). As I rode my second tro-tro home that day, I could hear the engine rattling and back of the van scrape against the ground. Would this car break down? For some reason I didn’t seem to care, most likely because I was simply too exhausted. I’m trying to remind myself this whole experience is temporary. I wouldn’t consider myself to be “studying abroad,” but rather, immersing myself in the Ghanaian lifestyle and culture. I’ve only experienced two working days, but I already have so much respect for those who do this regularly. This is by no means an easy lifestyle.
The tailor finished our clothes on Thursday evening, so the light at the end of this two and a half hour long tunnel meant trying on a brand new pair of shorts and shirt. Each exceeded expectations, and I will definitely purchase more fabric ASAP. While I wouldn’t ever wear these two pieces together, I’d say they are fairly cool separately:
Friday was a surprisingly jam-packed day. Initially it seemed as though I would follow the same monotonous routine, but after talking with Yoofi (a ‘big guy’ in the company who oversees nearly all campaigns), I spent the most of the day writing copy for two different clients – ADB (Banking) and Goil (fuel). For ADB, I wrote short summaries (1-3 sentences) of various services offered throughout the year. Each summary pertained to a particular month, and this copy is to be looked over and possibly published on a Ghanaian calendar. More to come on that. With Goil, I re-worked the headlines and subheads of numerous print/billboard ads. Waiting to hear back on opinions, but hopefully they like my work and I receive a similar opportunity soon. It’d be pretty badass to say my headlines are on print advertisements all throughout the country.
Fridays are very casual in the Ghanaian workplace, similar to some U.S. agencies. Men and women wear traditional Africanwear, and employees leave around 4 p.m. as opposed to 5 p.m. On this particular Friday, two men from the U.K., who worked for LOWE over the course of six months, threw a goodbye party to bid farewells. Everybody stopped working to come celebrate with these two employees. There was free food, drinks, and watching of the World Cup. At one point, all staff members formed a huge line, and the U.K. gentlemen gave hugs/said goodbyes to every single person, one at a time. Even though I had never spoken to either of the men leaving, I was encouraged to get in line and say goodbye. I really witnessed the sincerity and relationship between each employee and those who were departing. Rather than wallow in sadness, however, it seemed as though the Ghanaians chose to commend these men on their great work and reminisce on their impact while at LOWE.
In attempts to celebrate the 4th of July for what it’s worth in Ghana, my entire group went on that evening to have some American fun and celebrate a successful (somewhat) first week on the job. Here are some pictures from the night:
Bella Roma – an Italian restaurant/bar:
Friend, Jonas, Kaylee, Sumi, and myself:
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