By Rachel Marty
On my first day of work, I was expecting to arrive at a typical office building—with a few stories, a main lobby, and maybe even a receptionist. But as I approached the address, the busy city became a quiet neighborhood, and I realized the organization worked out of a small house. It was a nice house on a residential road. The only indication I was in the right place was a small green sign that read “The Alliance for Reproductive Health Rights,” with a little arrow pointing to the gate.
The Alliance for Reproductive Health Rights is an organization that works to ensure that women, children, and adolescents in Ghana have consistent and quality access to healthcare without suffering financial setbacks. More specifically, they are a network of local non-governmental organizations (NGOs) working together to advance a rights-based approach to sexual and reproductive health.
After reaffirming I was in the right place, I walked past the gate and onto the front porch, scouting to see if anyone was home. A man crept up from behind the house and looked at me with interest. Before I could say a word, Sonny—our local guide, supervisor, DJ, designer, and go-to guy for just about everything—had begun to introduce me in the local language.
After a brief, awkward moment, I said goodbye to Sonny and was led to a small back room. In the room were six desks, arranged in a way that formed four distinct work areas. I took a seat at the emptiest-looking desk—the one inconveniently placed behind the door—assuming it was mine. It didn’t take long to realize that unflattering fluorescent lighting and freezing air conditioning were a universal when it came to office culture.
Not long after getting settled in, my two new co-workers arrived. We greeted and began to get acquainted, as our desks were not even a few inches apart, constant conversation was unavoidable. I had met both of them online briefly before I left for this trip, but we did not exchange more than a few words. I’m not sure if it was the proximity of our desks or if it was a cultural norm, but we quickly dove into deep conversation.
We started off with talks of healthcare, a very appropriate topic for the organization. But the conversation quickly turned personal and unexpectedly philosophical. We talked politics, food, music, LGBTQ+ rights, weather, education… you name it. They asked me why I was not Christian, if I wanted to have children, and why I’m not married yet. It was glaringly clear we had major cultural differences, but each topic concluded with an indifferent shrug and quick re-interest in something new. I felt the same, and I didn’t hold back in asking similarly bold questions—it seemed appropriate.
The conversation was captivating, and I almost forgot what I was there to do. But I was quickly snapped back to reality with my first task—drafting a social media campaign for Disability Pride Month.
After drafting a document and sending it to my co-worker, many of our cultural differences once again became glaringly obvious. Some of my content ideas either didn’t make sense or missed the mark completely when you took into consideration Ghanaian cultural aspects—something my coworker nicely explained to me. It was one of many educationally sobering moments I had had since I arrived in Ghana.
For someone interested in pursuing global communications, like myself, I was stuck with the realization of how important it was to not just understand cultural differences, but to immerse myself in them, to observe, ask bold questions, and remain open-minded. This is exactly what I am in Ghana to do. And with that said, I would say I had a successful first day.