Happy (very belated) 4th of July! For our big celebration, the group went to Frankie’s—the most American restaurant in Osu—and got a fairly alright burger. Afterwards a few of us explored the Accra Mall and went to see Jurassic World (side note: mediocre movie, crazy theater). In America, this would be a pretty relaxing Saturday. When in Ghana, however…

Apparently the Accra Mall is one of the most dangerous places to be in the city at night, which our small group soon learned while trying to get to the tro tro stop after the movie. Every moment we stopped to wait and cross the road, groups of children would swarm us to beg for money or attempt to pick-pocket. The intensity of Jurassic World combined with the known danger of our situation did not prepare Shirley and me for this attack. When a small boy with bright blonde hair began grabbing Shirley by the arms we began screaming as if he was the climactic moment of an action-adventure film. This made it a game. Shirley shook him off but  he immediately ran to grab onto my waist. The group began crossing the road but the small boy was holding me in place, his fingernails digging into my arms. Like Chris Pratt in Jurassic World, Shirley became an unlikely hero. We all knew how bad she had to pee, but in a swift motion she managed to pry the boy off and pull me across the road, narrowly dodging cars as we made our way to our friends across the road. We encountered the same situation at every stop we came to. Kevin became the next unlikely hero (such as Bryce Dallas Howard in Jurassic World) as he taught Shirley and me how to ride a tro tro for the first time. If you don’t know what a tro tro is, check out Hannah’s blog post comparing this common local transportation to the bus at Rock Bottom in the show Spongebob Squarepants. It’s the most accurate description I can imagine.

My first tro tro mate (the person who gathers money and organizes passenger destinations for the driver) was very old, possibly deaf, and had no idea where we were going. We ended up a few miles from the intended destination but the Ghanaians are ever-helpful and we shortly found a man who walked us to the right tro tro and instructed the mate where to take us. As we boarded the tro tro, I couldn’t help but feel very sad for the children who live on the streets surrounding the Accra Mall. My experience in Ghana has been filled with privileges—our home, our travel opportunities, our access to coveted internships—and I felt incredibly guilty for being scared of these children as if they were less than human. I am so blessed to have my opportunities in life, and I’m sorry for ever “othering” those who do not.

Since the 4th I’ve worked more, gotten a horrible stomach bug, and spent way too much time on our bus. This bus misery brought us to Kumasi, a few hours north of Accra. In Kumasi, we toured the Kejetia Market, one of the largest markets in Africa. It has over 11,000 stalls and is packed to the brim with people. At every turn, people were shocked to see the long trail of Obrunis walking amongst the locals. I was shocked too because I have never seen so much stuff in one place in my entire life. Walking through the market felt like an amusement park ride. The walkways were constantly moving and sights flew past our faces faster than anyone could take in. People yelled and reached out to us as we walked past, and I may have set a new record for “hi”s in one hour.

The women loved me in the market. At one brief stalled moment I began talking to an older woman sitting on the ground of a shop. Before I said more than a few words, she reached out and grabbed my butt with both hands. She gleefully laughed and shouted “little butt! little butt!” to her friends across the walkway. I walked away laughing harder than I had the entire weekend. When I recalled this story to my group, some were worried that this was an upsetting or unwanted experience for me. While shocking, this woman reminded me of all the times my stepmom, aunts, and grandmother have teased me for my little butt. Her laugh was endearing and gave me a small memory of home amidst the winding market pathways.