Preface

“This thing on?” says Liz Sgro as she comes from off-screen to sit in a suburban home staple, an Ikea-bought brown faux leather chair in the middle of a room. You see it’s a pretty casual yet well-furnished house with an open layout and a pool underneath some slightly overgrown shrubbery on the other side of the fish bowl window. A camcorder filter fills the screen as you see Sgro’s face for the last time. She sees the red light on the top of the camera and you see the time begin running in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. A fuzzy depiction of her upper body leans forward and sighs. “It’s been over a week since I’ve been back in the states and I’ve spent that time trying to process but it’s not getting easier. So I thought, for your sake and mine, instead of writing, I would talk through it.” She’s fidgeting and having difficulty keeping eye contact with the camera. She hesitates and begins by recalling her final official moments as a student in the Media In Ghana program.

 

I remember

     The last few minutes I had in Ghana were the hardest. I remember the doors of the shuttle bus opened and there I stood on the tarmac. I followed the crowd to stand in line that gradually progressed up the stairs to board the plane. Halfway up, I turned around and looked back at the city lights to say one last goodbye to the place I had learned to love.

Straight ahead, I saw the mall we had gone to whenever we needed an American cheeseburger fix from Burger King. To the right, I saw the rooftop bar we had just celebrated our last night together the day before. To the left, I saw the poorly-replicated small glowing Eiffel Tower atop some Parisian building we had always used as a landmark to know when we were close to home on our drives back from work or weekend trips. Above me, I saw the twinkling moon and stars in a clear night sky — something Nate and I always wished for as we hung out on our balconies at night staring at an overcast, air-polluted night sky.

As I stood there appreciating the moon we always wished to see, I thought about how he was probably looking at it from his plane at the same time and then a rush of overwhelming emotions flooded my head. I took one last deep breath of Ghanain air and progressed up the stairs into the plane. A tear crept down my face and I was told to find my seat.

I sat down, settled in for the ten-hour flight, and felt my head become very heavy. Soon I found it in my hands as more tears grazed my cheeks. I said one last goodbye to the group via our iconic WhatsApp chat and fell asleep so I didn’t have to look out the window when the plane took off; so I didn’t have to be sadder over the fact that I was leaving — that I was reentering the states.

 

Reentry has been hard

      The travel day went by pretty fast as I slept through the majority of my flights and customs went smoothly in DC. What I was warned of but still wasn’t fully expecting was the immediate switch between the two worlds that I went through. One minute I was in a room with people shuffling through wads of cash to exchange, people complimenting me on my Ghanaian bracelets and fanny pack, and people wearing bright-colored outfits with matching luggage who wanted to know all about my trip. The next minute I was walking through a doorway to people wearing black or neutral tones rushing through the terminals with sunglasses on and earbuds in, signs of commercialism, capitalism, fast food, and the beeps of credit card scanners.

The first stop in America upon arrival at my home in Florida was Cheesecake Factory. The place is the epitome of excess and the concept of Americans hating on something that strives to attain an image of being chic and luxurious just so they can hate on something. Being in such a restaurant made me think back to the conversation I had with a student at the school in Nima. I asked a group of the students swarming me if they could travel anywhere in the world where would you go and one of the voices in the back came from a boy who responded “a restaurant.” Initial feelings of guilt started to come up. To push those feelings away, I began to think more about stories and memories I could share with my eager parents. When I couldn’t finish my food and received a to-go box to package myself, I began to imagine all of the stacked two-week-old to-go boxes in the fridge back in the apartment. I told them simple stories about the group, the apartment, work, and some activities. I missed it. This was the first of many mini reminiscent spiral episodes in my head that I worked through to transition back to my life in the states.

The first people I saw when I got back beside my parents were members of a volunteer group I have been a part of for the last ten years. These people have been pivotal role models in my life as they are caring, generous, and intelligent people with waterside mansions who travel constantly and sail in their backyards daily. I’ve always thought that if I’m able to achieve a 9-5 corporate lifestyle, I’ll retire young and live a similar fulfilling life. However, after hearing about different life journeys from people that make them just as happy and thus make them feel just as fulfilled and successful in a place like Ghana, I’m approaching life with a new and fuller perspective. Ghana taught me life’s not always just as predictable or black and white as I seemed to have always imagined.

It also taught me that ignorance really is bliss especially when you don’t know you’re being ignorant. For example, I think about the first questions that people ask me as we’ve reunited since I’ve been back. They’ve consisted of: Did you feel safe? Where did you sleep? What did you eat? Oh, it’s a city? What’s a slave castle? You took an Uber to work? Genuine questions that were meant with no mal intentions but yet, it was a unique way to see a reflection of my past ignorant self as I got asked these sorts of things. Before this trip, I would have had similar curiosities but now I have snuck a peek at life outside of my little world in the US that many don’t know and may never get to know.

Even though I know I have been extremely lucky to get the opportunity to travel and experience such a unique and wonderful corner of the world, I still am faced with conflicting waves of honor and guilt. Honor because the trip has filled me with a plethora of stories so that I am the one bearing the important responsibility to educate others on this country and lessen the extremity of the ignorant ignorance of others back home. But guilt because who am I to be that person for others? Who am I to leave these people after just beginning a routine — a life? How do I get the luxury of saying things like “I’m excited to get back to 5G cell service” when these people are happy if they have service at work let alone their own home or around town? I had only been there for five weeks and gotten a sprinkle of a taste of the culture and yet people are going to use my very focused and niche stories as their whole perception of the country? If anything, this has made me extremely grateful for the life and opportunities I have in the states but nonetheless, the underlying guilt in my stomach and voices in my head asking what I can do to make the differences not so drastic between the two worlds will always be there.

I can go on and on about the comparisons I’ve made and things I’ve learned about these different countries but all in all, all I can say is reentry to the states has been hard, it’s been weird, and I miss it already.

 

I miss it

I miss waking up to the sound of roosters outside and a preacher speaking into a microphone down the street. I miss Melina’s laugh as she would make fun of my morning stretches. I miss Laura’s morning debriefs from the day before or her exciting plans for the day. I miss Khalil barging in with his bonnet and slides on asking for a pan for breakfast. I miss talking with Karl at the water dispenser before he left for work. I miss hearing stories of Sam’s PR movie star life and our bond over Dylan O’Brien. I miss watching Stephen learn how to play Speed. I miss hanging out with Nate on the patio. I miss Brady’s jokes. I miss bantering and watching movies with Jake. I miss Michael’s life lessons and crazy late-night stories from work. I miss my nightly delirious giggle session with Peyton. And I miss being able to go to sleep knowing I’ll wake up and do it all over again the next day.

I miss our weekend adventures. I miss the dancing. I miss how — despite their apparent hatred for small talk — how Ghanaian people are the friendliest and most talkative people I’ve ever met. I miss the artistry. I miss the effort put into everything from a shirt to a bowl of fufu to a choreographed dance to a carved sculpture. I miss the nightlife starting at 10 pm. I miss getting ready every Wednesday night to go to Afrikiko Salsa Night. I miss trying something new for lunch every day at work. I miss laughing in my shipping container office with my vibrant coworkers. I just miss every moment.

But looking back on it all, I’m realizing how despite missing these little moments and being sad it’s over, I’m so happy that it happened. At the end of the day, I truly have no other option than to be utterly thankful for such a wonderful five weeks.

Thank you

Thank you to Leslie for taking a chance on me and accepting me into such an intense program despite how young I was. To Derek Brandow for helping me get an interview for the program in the first place. To Senyo for the fun and helpful language lessons during class. To Lesley-Anne, Liz, and Brent for being the most helpful, engaging, funny, and supportive faculty we could’ve asked for to accompany us. To Kofi, Dennis, Jeff, and Ekua at XpressGas for challenging me, listening to me, and truly making me feel a part of your family.

To the group for being the main reason why this has been the best experience of my life. You all have been the best role models and friends to me and I’m so grateful for our new little travel family. I can’t wait for our reunions and to be at all of your weddings! Getting to know you all has been one of the greatest joys of the whole experience and I will cherish the memories of our days spent together. I love you all more than you know.

And last but certainly not least, thank you Ghana for showing me that I have so much more to learn, fun to experience, people to encounter, work to do, and stories to tell. You have been everything and more. Until next time…

 

That’s a wrap

Sgro smiles and makes a last lighthearted remark to try and lighten the dramatic mood. She leans forward with both hands on her knees as her head is buzzing with final things she could say or talk about, but doesn’t say anything more (which is unlike her in the first place so the impact is greater than it may seem). She comes to terms with the fact that once she stands from the chair and turns the camera off, this chapter is over and tied up with a bow, only to be opened for future reminiscing. The fuzzy depiction on the screen fails to show it but she wipes a tear from her cheek. “That’s it. Hope you enjoyed the stories as much as I did.” She stands from the chair and you hear a click of the button before the screen turns black.