Having completed my first week (and a few days), I have so much to reflect on. If you look at the blog posts of my group members you can see how much activity and blog-worthy events have happened in this short amount of time. We have been constantly on the go and only today’s national holiday (Republic Day!) has given me a chance to sit down and write.
From the time I left the airport in Seattle, time moved differently. Somehow every day has flown by but by 8pm seems to have lasted so long. Our group has been on the move since day one, and only now do I have time to process the amount of activities we’ve done in the past week. Though it has been busy, I have loved every minute of it. My favorite trips have been the botanical gardens, our visit to an elementary school in Nima, and this past weekend’s stay in Cape Coast. I have eaten more chips (french fries) than I could have ever imagined, pet a crocodile, channeled my inner Tarzan 200ft. above the African forest floor, and witnessed poverty, family, and the surprising kindness of strangers.
Though we’ve had some incredibly memorable adventures, some of my favorite times here have been the moments that haven’t been documented. At the school in Nima I had to explain the phenomena of freckles to a group of young Ghanaian girls. They were all very concerned that I had Lupus, but once I assured them I did not, they gathered around to count the spots on my arms and shoulders. Small moments like this have made this trip memorable. Though thousands of pictures have been taken, the beautiful feeling of jumping waves with a Ghanaian stranger on a beach far from everyone you know cannot yet be captured.
I stopped taking pictures when we toured the Cape Coast and Elmina slave trade castles. My feelings trumped my ability for photographs. On the day we toured the Cape Coast castle, we had not eaten for about four hours and we were running on very little sleep. We were enduring intense heat and humidity, to the point that some people could not stay standing for the duration of the tour. I felt hungry, tired, and horrible, but the feelings I had were in no way comparable to the tragedies that faced millions of African slaves during the time of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. The 25 people on my tour crowded rooms that would hold thousands of men, women, and children that had previously been stripped from their villages in tragic acts of human injustice. A small ditch in the center of the room was the only drainage for blood, feces, and the remains that occur when thousands of human beings are kept in small caves with little food for months at a time. The contents of the drain remained stagnant until rain came and even then there were few holes in the wall for drainage or ventilation.
Though uncomfortable and incredibly saddening, it was important that we visited the castles and I think anyone who has a chance to should do so as well. It is important to know the tragedies of our history, especially if your ancestors may have played a role in those tragedies. I’m glad I’ve now seen where some of the greatest horrors of our past have taken place, especially as I attempt to understand and assimilate to Ghanaian culture.
On a lighter note, internships have started! Every one of us has had vastly diverse experiences so far and it is only day three. I look forward to my work to come, but I must say, the relaxed atmosphere of Republic Day in our house and surrounding neighborhood does make me wish there were a few more Ghanaian holidays on our trip here. I will be missing Fourth of July—my favorite American holiday, and on Saturday too!—but a few of us have sworn to go searching for a good burger.
One quick final story: Justin, Kevin and I ventured our way to the Accra Mall today. In the Shoprite grocery store, I was walking down an aisle alone when two women stopped me and asked “Picture?” I first thought they must have been asking me to take their picture, but as the one woman began posing next to me I asked her why this was happening. She hugged me tightly around the waist and said, “I just like you” in a small voice with a strong Ghanaian accent. Thirty minutes later, I am standing outside of Game—essentially Costco with a misleading name—waiting for Justin and Kevin to go through checkout when three other young Ghanaian women come up to me and ask again if I can take pictures with all of them. With my light skin and pink shorts, I did stand out like a sore thumb. But still, I never want to be famous.
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