I can’t believe we’ve been here a month! While I’m not homesick, I miss conveniences. I also miss being clean.

Aside from the physical challenges, I am learning an important lesson in visibility. Everywhere I go, people feel the need to shout at me, walk and talk with me, or just point and stare. The ability to be unseen in public spaces is undoubtedly a privilege that I possess when I am at home. It is exhausting being the only one “like me” whenever I leave our house, but I know how valuable these lessons are.

I am experiencing my own race in an entirely new way as issues of race and privilege are being prominently discussed in American culture. When the word “race” is discussed in America, it is generally in context regarding those who are not white. This is an aspect of white privilege: the ability to set oneself apart from an aspect of identity that many are constantly reminded of by their surrounding environment. I am not reminded of my race in America because my race isn’t seen as a difference. In Ghana I am different, and Ghanaians love letting me know. Unlike in American culture, however, it is nearly always in well-meaning ways.

One of the many ways Ghanians enjoy pointing out difference is through the word “Obruni.” I have been called “Miss Obruni” and “Obruni Lady,” but most often standard “Obruni.” I have heard men, women, and children yell “Obruni” at me and I honestly kind of love it. In my experience, it has been used more as an endearing attention-getter, and never as a derogatory term. When I am called an Obruni, it is usually followed by “What is your name?” or “Where are you from?” The Ghanaians attract attention to difference because they are interested in learning about it.

Though the Ghanaians’ attention to my difference is mostly nice, it is often exhausting. I have explained where Oregon is more times that I can count and fielded nearly as many proposals from Ghanaian men. In the two weeks of walking home from my internship on the University of Ghana campus, a less than 30min walk, I have had three incredibly determined Ghanaian students propose to me. As I am walking—headphones in, keeping to myself—they run up, start with compliments, then ask if I’m married. As I am not, I tell them no. This usually leads to a well-crafted pick-up line such as, “Well I came to walk with you so you can marry me.” It never ends with a simple “no,” and I’m always forced to craft a string of excuses to get them away from me. I love interacting with the people here, but some can be friendly to a fault.

Though I’m tired of marriage proposals, I will miss the older Ghanaian women’s love for me. I shared stories of Ghanian women in my first two blog posts, and I have even more stories! Just yesterday I went to the Ministry of Gender, Children, and Social Protection to interview the Department of Gender’s Program Director. She and I had a great discussion on traditional gender roles in Ghana and how they have affected progress towards gender equality and the 2015 Millennial Development Goals. After the interview, we moved the discussion towards our lives and families. She told me that she was originally from Kumasi and is an elder in one of the large royal families there. When I told her that my family is much smaller and I only have one grandmother (shoutout to Grandma, love you!), she was shocked. As her shock transformed to concern, she decided she would be my other grandmother. As I was her new grandchild, she gathered her things and took the rest of the day off so she could safely transport me home. We walked to the tro tro stop together, she paid for my fare, and we rode the 45min ride back to East Legon. As I began my walk home, we exchanged phone numbers and scheduled a day next week for me to have dinner at her house.

I love the people here. I have endless stories of people reaching out to talk to me or point me in the direction I need to go. Though they may laugh about you in Twi afterwards, they are always willing to help.