By: Sam Lorenzo
Vivid dreams have been a frequent occurrence in my life for as long as I can remember. Sometimes they make sense and can easily be traced back to my real-life experiences. Other times, however, they are so bizarre and abstract that it’s difficult to pinpoint any reason why my subconscious would produce such imagery.
Most recently, I had a dream that I was traveling around The Philippines with my mother and maternal grandmother. The plot escapes me, but I do recall speaking to the two of them specifically. After waking up, I did not think much about what the dream could be conveying. “Maybe I just miss the both of them,” I concluded, which is understandable since I have not seen my mom is several months nor have I seen my grandma in years. At the moment, I did not realize how relatable the dream was to my reality here in Ghana.
The imagery of nurturing, motherly figures are prominent symbols throughout Ghanaian life. It is present through the wooden artworks and paintings that hang on the walls of craft markets and within communal spaces as women walk around and work with infant children swaddled up against them. Among the Media in Ghana group, most (if not all) of us have experienced personal encounters with Ghanaian women that were reminiscent of motherly love.
Today I accompanied my supervisor, Doris, and coworker, Bernice, to visit a partnering organization in Accra. Similar to the video content we captured in the Volta Region, our task for the day entailed speaking with community health advocates about their experiences. We interviewed adolescent girls, a facilitator, and the project administrator, Michael. However, the very last interview we conducted was particularly impactful to me.
The subject was a mother of one of the adolescent girls. She could not speak English (nor Twi for that matter), so with the help of Michael, our team was able to carry out the interview in Ga, the mother’s native language. It should not be a surprise to anyone reading this blog entry that I could not understand a word of what she was saying, but based on the tone of her voice and her body language, I could feel how passionate she was about health education and advocating for the rights of young women. She then turned to someone and asked who I was, and after being introduced, she proceeded to rename me under a different alias that was easier and more pleasant for her (I wish I could remember what it was). Before leaving the site to return to the office, she had told one of the facilitators that she wanted a picture with me. I handed the facilitator my Polaroid camera so that I could give the woman a physical copy of this moment. In the very short amount of time I interacted with her, she made me feel seen and included, despite having a language barrier and cultural differences between us. This is just one of the many instances in Ghana that have made me feel like I was interacting with my mom or grandma. I guess my dreams were just trying to make me cognizant of how prominent this theme has been during my stay here. On the other hand, my dreams could also serve as reminders to call my mom and grandma more often than I already do. I’m going to determine that it’s both.