Day 18: 2100 hours, 34 minutes.

Living in a house full of strangers is challenging. You find out plenty of new things about each other—some things you hate. Plates scattered across tables, shoes abandoned in corners and trash can be seen tumbling across the living room floor when the morning smog blows in through the open windows.

You also find ways to deal with life. No power means no WiFi, which means no Internet, which means nothing to do but sit around and talk to each other. Once that power comes back on it’s a sight to see. Fifteen kids sitting in a circle locked onto their screens. There was communication going on, but not to each other.

This made me think about Ghana as a society. A brief glimpse at Ghana and you can make a safe assumption that the people here are less developed, poorer and you can even go as far as saying they are less educated. All of this is wrong. I flew into the Accra airport expecting a huge cultural shock like a brand new burn placed under cold water. Only the blister I was waiting for never came. Instead, I found out that the people of Ghana were experiencing a different version of what I was used to. 

America has everything. It explains why everyone hates Americans but wants to be an American. I never stood out more than I do here. In California, I was among a decent amount of Asians throughout my grade school years. Moving to Oregon was the next big shock. A school having over 60% Caucasians made me look out for other Asians as if we were a rare breed. Africa, on the other hand, changed it all for me. It wasn’t just me but it was everyone living in this house. We were “obronies” to everyone else here, literally meaning “white person.” It didn’t matter if you were Asian, Guatemalan, or Canadian. You were an obroni.

Getting used to the lifestyle of an everyday Ghanaian took some time. Calling a cab, knowing what fare to bargain for, and most importantly trying to pronounce the place you needed to get to. Meeting people the first week revealed this was a place that was trying to move forward. It just wasn’t easy being in a place of poverty with a lack of resources. What they lacked, they made up for with perseverance and heart.

Meeting the children at the Anani Memorial International School was surreal. It’s hard to assume how the rest of world operates and handles education until you’re there. I went through grade school hating the days I had to be there and hoping some days I would just catch flu so I could stay home to watch my favorite cartoons. Going to school here was a privilege. Not only that, but the students were so wonderfully curious about who we were and wanted to learn what we could share with them. Despite being taught multiple languages including French, Cantonese, and English on top of their own native languages, they were all younger than 10. Most of the students were 4-6 years old. It makes me feel like my younger days complaining in a huge, air-conditioned, classroom filled with supplies and an indoor bathroom were too much of a luxury.

It’s been a long two weeks here. I think we’ve all become used to this new life. I hope that it doesn’t take 6 weeks to figure out that we all live with together and that dishes don’t just wash themselves.