Today we went to a primary school in Nima, which is one of the more impoverished neighborhoods in Accra. Since being in Ghana I’ve heard on multiple occasions that Nima is a rough neighborhood. It’s a place that you don’t want to find yourself at night, and those who grow up in Nima are said to be a tough bunch. As we drove through the area, I got a sense of why Nima has this reputation. There isn’t traditional plumbing; instead, the streets are bookended by shallow cement gutters that carry human waste, garbage, and an unmistakable blue-grey tinted water throughout the neighborhood. The tangled masses of power lines that lie across semi-permanent structures built nearly on top of each other create a sense of chaos and clutter.
As our bus arrived, we were met by two guides who would escort us to the school. One guide was positioned at the rear of the group while the other led us through the maze of low structures with tin roofs. As we penetrated deeper into the maze-like shanty town, we passed countless street vendors and makeshift living quarters where Ghanaians were hanging their laundry on seemingly every surface where laundry could be hung. Moving through the narrow corridors was anxiety inducing, but as we drew nearer to the school, the unmistakable roar of playing children calmed my nerves. I wasn’t quite expecting the beautiful, life-altering experience that we would have at the Anani Memorial International School that day.
The warm welcome we received as we walked into the school’s courtyard was one of pure joy. We were ushered into the classroom area and took our seats opposite hundreds of smiling faces of students of all ages. The energy in the room was palpable, as the students could hardly stay in their seats. They performed a series of songs, dances, and poems backed by a chorus of rhythmic instruments played by the school’s instructors. The first few songs were performed by all of the students together, followed by a few songs performed by smaller groups of students. Most were Ghanaian songs, but I did recognize the song from The Lion King and was able to sing along. Next came the dances. The choreography and energy involved were awe inspiring. A few of the dancers looked like they could’ve been in professional dance crews and couldn’t have been more than 14 years old. In the last dance number, each student grabbed one of us by the hand and led us to the dance floor to perform a dance that involved all of us. We formed a large circle and took turns jumping in the middle to learn the moves from the students. It was one of the most pure and in-the-moment experiences of my life. I couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. After the dance we were dripping with sweat and sat back down again to enjoy some poems written by the students. My smile never waned. The students took turns reciting their poems, alternating from French to English. They spoke about hope, joy, motivation, and gratefulness with a sincerity that brought tears to my eyes.
Once the kids were done with their performances we sung a few songs for them, although we were admittedly not as well rehearsed as the school children. First, we performed a song in the native Ghanaian language of Twi as a call and response led by Francis. Next, Emily and I led a performance of Itsy Bitsy Spider along with the accompanying hand dances. To my surprise, many of the students knew the song and dance and joined in with us. We ended with a performance of You Are My Sunshine led by Mercedes. Our efforts were a bit clunky, but the students seemed to appreciate them nonetheless.
After the performances we spread out the school supplies we brought as gifts on a small round table and got a chance to hang out with the students for a while. As we walked into the courtyard of the school, we were greeted with hundreds of tiny smiling faces, high fives, fist bumps, and hugs. A couple of the older students asked me to write down my name so they could add me on Facebook. One of the younger students came up to me and asked to be picked up, so I lifted him under the armpits and blasted him high into the air. “Whoooosh,” I said, as I held him as high above my head as I could. Seeing this, a few other students formed a line in front of me. “Whoooosh, whoooosh, whoooosh.” I lifted them one by one high into the air. Each one giggled hysterically and ran to the back of the line as I set them down. It would’ve gone on like this seemingly forever if my arms hadn’t gotten so damn tired.
The joy and excitement I felt in that courtyard was something I’ll never forget. Looking into the excited, smiling faces of those kids grounded me in the moment. In modern America, we are so often engulfed in the transposed reality created by our obsessions with social media, politics, celebrities, and the drive to be conventionally successful, that we rarely take time to exist in the moment. My experience at the school was so refreshing because those kids brought me so deeply into the moment that I was able to let go of those distractions that plague me back home. I have so much hope for the kids I met at that school, and would like to thank the instructors for the amazing, selfless work they are doing.
