PERSONAL TOUCH by Kezia Setyawan

It was such a  privilege to study abroad in Ghana this summer. As I adjust back to life going to school, working, and being involved on campus, it’s made me realize how my experience in Ghana may enforce stereotypes about Africa that my peers may hold. It has taught me that I can’t glorify a place and a people to the point of romanization or exotification; I also can’t let it wear me down enough to compartmentalize Ghana into only bad things. It is a blessing to look to go a place and see it for what it is, both the difficult and the wonderful experiences.

I don’t like touch. There are only five people who come to mind that I willingly initiate hugs for. Through the years, I’ve learned how to deal with other people’s expectations of shaking hands, pats on the back and whatever else people want to show affection with me. Passive touch is okay. I’m fine jostling with others for over an hour in a hot and sweaty trotro or moving through crowded events. I’m not used how casual and expected touch is in Ghana, and it was one of the hardest things for me to adjust to. I always jolt when there’s a hand on my back moving me aside, or people reaching out to grab my arm.  Much of this is simply cultural and acceptable by both women and men—such as long handshakes that last seemingly forever.

Unwanted verbal comments by men also are common, like marriage proposals, and most of the time I’ve been able so shake these off with either a laugh or by ignoring them.

I wonder how I would’ve experience Ghana if I was in a body that was male-presenting, tall, and taking up a lot of physical space. I think I would feel invincible. I dream about walking down the streets of Accra near dusk alone, when the sun isn’t showing its oppressive heat. I’m tired of men making comments or  reaching out for a seemingly casual touch.

As the days counted down, I reflected the unwanted verbal and physical advances made to me by people there, especially by men.

At Wli waterfalls park, I was sexually harassed by the Wli Falls tour guide. When we reached the foot of the falls, he approached me, repeatedly saying how nice my appearance was, how we should exchange numbers since I did take photos of him explaining different plants, but also just to stay in touch. I shrugged it off, annoyed but this was no different than other previous incidents. I wanted to swim, and shortly after I got into the water the tour guide went in as well approaching me, grabbing my arm saying that he wanted to swim with me. I yanked away. He grabbed me again, so I dove, kicking away, the brown muddy water blurring my vision. In my head, I wondered what if I just drowned there to get away. I surfaced, and he tried to grab me one last time when I stated I didn’t feel like swimming and left.

I was angry at myself for leaving my peers in the water, not warning them about him as a threat to their safety until after. How hypocritical of me to leave them vulnerable, because none of them deserved to have a similar experience. I was grateful that our program guide Sonny told him to leave the water after I reported what happened. However, I was disappointed that the Wli guide returned with us as we walked back to the bus, and that many stayed with him under the shelter as heavy rains came down. I couldn’t stand to be in that space anymore, so I walked alone, trudging through water above my ankles.

Back in the States, I’m grateful for how much our faculty program director advocated for me to receive help here through the Dean of Students; I’m thankful that both our program director and the Aya Centre (program service provider) staff have  taken steps to ensure that this predator doesn’t harass future visitors.

This experience doesn’t diminish the many positive interactions I had in Ghana either, like how Oben, the security guard at my internship took time to teach me Twi every day, or how Angela helped me flag down the trotro the first time I went to work and paid for my fare, and I was delighted by Abiba, the vendor at the Kejetia market, who told me to sit in her chair and pitch her wares out to shoppers for a little while.

I’ll be back soon, Ghana.