I don’t think I’ve ever felt as privileged as I did riding down the streets of urban Accra today. I wasn’t surprised to see the impoverished conditions of the people in communities much poorer than East Legon, where we’re staying. I expected the crowded, littered streets and homes made of scrap metal and whatever else could be found, though as an Oregonian, I was appalled by the amount of garbage discarded in the waterways and piled up in empty lots. As I looked at the rivers (if they could be called that) leading into the ocean I thought of how beautiful and clean the Oregon Coast is and how awful it would be if it was too contaminated to enjoy. I drive an hour to get to the beach while the people in these communities can’t even fully enjoy the beach that is right in their backyard. The negative impact of this garbage on the health of people in these communities is obviously serious, and something like having a safe beach seems trivial in comparison, but that’s kind of the point. I have the privilege of driving in my car an hour away to the beach and it would break my heart to not be able to because of pollution, while the lack of a beach is just a minor side effect of the sanitation issues that these people face.

It was more than just the beach though. It was incredibly uncomfortable riding in a huge, air conditioned bus through what were basically the slums of Accra. I wanted to get out and walk but that wouldn’t have changed the fact that I’m a white American and it wouldn’t have changed the fact that I’m way “better off” than the people around me. It seems incredibly unfair that because I was born to parents in the United States, my life was set up to be “better.” It’s not as if I’ve never had financial worries or struggles, but have gotten and am continuing to get an education, I’ve never had to worry about having a roof over my head or food in my stomach, and I grew up in an area that was clean and safe.

I know all of that isn’t my fault and I don’t feel guilty because of it, but it’s still uncomfortable to know that people see “privilege” when they look at you, especially when that’s not a feeling you’re used to at all. In the United States, I wouldn’t be considered “privileged.” I work my ass off to be able to attend the University of Oregon. I can’t help but look at people whose parents’ hand them everything and feel a twinge of resentment but that’s probably how people in those communities will look at me when I’m walking through the marketplaces there. And I don’t blame them.

I want to end this post by explaining why there are no photos with this blog entry. The reason is that it felt wrong to me to take photos from my position of privilege in the bus. I don’t like the idea of taking tourist photos of people’s poor living conditions, especially from behind glass like you would of animals at the zoo. I know people had different motivations for taking photos, but I wasn’t okay with the whole situation and felt really weird about it, especially not being able to talk to the people I’d be photographing. When I start my internship and even walking around, I don’t think I will mind taking pictures, but it’s important to me to interact and make a connection with whoever I’m photographing to put myself at an equal level with them. That’s what I’m looking forward to most about the work I’ll be doing at my internship.