I traveled to Russia in 2015. While I was there, a waiter assured me, “Russians don’t hate Americans. That’s the politicians talking.” His message was essential that the average person is more concerned with making rent, spending time with family and friends, eating good food and listening to good music. Bearing this in mind, I purposely tried to avoid making assumptions about what my experience in Ghana would be like before I arrived. Nonetheless, I’ve found myself both surprised and disappointed at times.

I assumed not setting expectations would help me avoid culture shock, but I still found myself within the first few days wondering about occurrences I saw and took part in. The most jarring of these was the traffic. I found it to be chaotic at best and frightening at worst. The driver of a bus I was on narrowly avoided hitting someone who ran across a crosswalk before it was their turn. After breaking suddenly, the driver said, “You just have to learn to see the rhythm in the chaos.” Now, to me, rhythm and chaos seem diametrically opposed, but I took the advice to heart and learned to trust the drivers and other pedestrians. Now, I feel comfortable doing as the Romans do and hopping out of public transport at stoplights rather than official stops, weaving between cars to cross the street and relaxing when we’re driving through town rather than sitting on the edge of my seat.

Another surprising experience I’ve had getting used to people wanting photos with me. People across the age spectrum have stopped me to ask for a photo of or with me. I was initially uncomfortable with it, but I’ve come to be more amused than anything else. I understand that seeing a white person here is something of a novelty and chose to see it as a joke more than objectification.

There have been a few experiences I’ve had here that I wasn’t nearly as fond of. One is the inefficiency of communication. In my work in the U.S., setting up interviews has been simple: contact the person I want to interview, either directly or through a publicist; set an appointment and method for the interview; conduct the interview at the established time and place; follow up. Here, a supervisor told me, “Go to PRESEC (a local high school) and ask for Auntie Matilda. She’ll set you up with the headmaster.” When I got to the school, Auntie Matilda was nowhere to be found. I ended up speaking to the headmaster’s secretary and she turned me away for not having a letter from the news station requesting an interview. When I returned to the station, I was scolded for not finding Auntie Matilda. I don’t understand how that system is easier or more efficient than printing a letter. I never got the interview.

More shocking than ineffective communication is the prevalence of what I see as sexual harassment. I love taking photos around the station and often pop into various studios to shoot during recordings. After one show, a male staff member saw me with my camera and grabbed a female staff member by the wrist and pulled her in for a photo. She twisted her arm and tried to get behind me. I snapped at my coworker, “Let her go!” He responded that he just wanted a picture with her, but I shut him down, saying she was a grown-up and could decide for herself whom she wanted a photo with. The most surprising part of the exchange was that I was the only person in the room who reacted at all. The rest of the Ghanaian men seemed comfortable

with what he had done. Of everything I’ve seen in Ghana, this is the one type of behavior I won’t accept as being part of the culture, particularly because it was part of American culture not long ago.

Research shows that, when experiencing a new place for the first time, culture shock initially makes everything new and exciting, then the differences from one’s norm become irritating before developing strategies to cope with difficulties and eventual acceptance. I believe I’ve passed the phase where everything is novel and am somewhere between the stages of irritation and coping. I’ve dealt with some things, but others are still rather grating. Still, occasionally, I step out of the building I work in and feel a blast of heat and as my eyes adjust to the light, I see the chaos of traffic and hear the hawkers vying for attention and I can’t help but smile as I dive into the crowd.

Bio: C. Francis O’Leary (they/them/theirs) is a journalism major at the UO School of Journalism and Communication. They also work as a music journalist for Oregon Music News. You can follow them on Twitter at @CFrancisOLeary and on Instagram at @CFrancisOLearyPhoto