In Which I Attend Class...Almost

So. Classes have started. And not like on Monday, when I went to class at the designated time, and no one else showed up. Apparently, going to class during the first week is optional for students and professors. It was alright, though. I got to get started reading a book I picked up at the University Bookstore. It is called The Baobabs of Tete and Other Stories and was written by Kari Dako, a lecturer here at UG. She gives a darkly humorous twist to the experience of women in Africa, and specifically women in Ghana. Some of the stories are set on the UG campus, so I recognized the places she was talking about! I also found a collection of modern Ghanian poetry that looks very interesting.
The USAC students have stated our Twi class. Twi is the main language spoken in Ghana, aside from English, of course. There are three dialects of Twi; we are learning Asante-Twi, is the most common. The percentage of people for whom Twi is their first language is somewhere around forty percent. What I found really interesting was that the number of people who speak Twi as a second or third language is much higher. Our professor explained that this is because it is required for Ghanian school children to learn a Ghanian language through high school, although all other classes are taught in English. It is very possible that, by the time a Ghanian student makes it to university, he or she is tri or tetra-lingual. It seems to me as though something very similar happens in Europe. But we have nothing like that in the US. I am not even fluent in Spanish, although I suppose that is my own fault, really. I think that there is something incredibly dynamic about being multilingual. I have read several articles that question the decision of post-colonial writers to write and publish in English, as English is the language of the colonizer, rather than the language of the writer's country or heritage.
But the actual class... The professor teaches in the business school, and comes to USAC just to teach us. He is a lovely older gentleman, with a warm, kind expression, a ready smile, and rhythmic voice. He is very excited to teach us Twi. We learned more in the last two days of class that I did the first month of high school German. Of course, the class is meant to get us speaking Twi as soon as possible, given our immersion in the environment.
I also had another English class. I found a very helpful woman in the English Office who very directly told me that Oral Literature would not be offered this term. She helped me sign up for a class dealing with a select author, in this case, Chinua Achebe. I've read a bit of Achebe: Things Fall Apart, Anthills of the Savannah, and a few of his essays. But this will be an opportunity to go really in-depth, to get a feel for his entire body of work. I am very excited.
So I went to the Chinua Achebe class today, and yet again, the professor did not show. But I did meet two Ghanian students, Alberta and Selena. We started talking about their classes last semester, and I think that we really hit it off. I have a whole list of books to look up, and Selena promised to bring me the syllabus for the class she took on Ghanian Literature last semester. I'm very excited for that class next week.
I've been hanging out in the USAC office the last few days. There are a few chairs and a computer for students to use. And AC. That is the kicker. But it's nice to have a place that I can go and ask questions. And the Assistant Coordinator, Claudia, lets us hang out there and relax. She and the director, Abigail, are wonderful. I have no idea what I would do without them.
Abigail was out of the office today, so she asked Claudia to pick up her son after school and take him to his aunt's house. I asked to go with her, and she shrugged and agreed. It was interesting to see a Ghanian primary school. It is the one that is behind my dorm building, but I got to see it from the front and see the buildings up close. They are dark wood structures, with wooden shutters that open so that each building, which only houses one or two classrooms, is almost completely open. Buildings here are definitely designed with the heat in mind. Every building has some way of catching breezes, be it with windows, balconies, or open hallways. The children were actually a bit afraid of me, I think. A lot of them just looked at me like they didn't understand what I was doing there. Some of them smiled and waved, and I tried to reciprocate enthusiastically. I played peekaboo around a corner with two small boys while Claudia was talking to a teacher. Neither of them were willing to talk to me, but they laughed when I pretended to be a silly monster. Abigail's son didn't say much. I think I freaked him out, too. I don't tend to think of myself as scary, but I guess to children, I am an unknown quantity.
We drove Abigail's son to East Legon, which I have heard is where the wealthy professionals live. It was certainly different from some of the other parts of the city I have seen. There were large houses, about the size of houses in an expensive suburban development in America, all behind walls. I had read about that--meaning the house as a part of a walled compound--in Nigerian fiction, but I had no idea that it was true here. What was really interesting was that, as nice as the houses were (and they were very nice, with beautiful stone work, plenty of windows, and interesting uses of color), the roads were unpaved and full of potholes. It was more than a bit of a contradiction. I wonder what these prosperous suburbanites think of their roads? I remember when Williamsburg Village was having the pipes redone. The roads were a mess, and I absolutely hated it. This is far less temporary. It makes me wonder about how these people might go about having the road fixed. In America, or at least in Skokie, the people of Williamsburg Village had some say in what was done with our own tax money--it went into redoing the pipes and roads. I doubt the same is true here.
In the car, Claudia was listening to a broadcast of an appointment hearing for a woman nominated for the position of Minister of Women, Children, and Social Services. She was formerly a human rights advocate, and the members of the assembly were grilling her mercilessly on her position on the rights of homosexuals. I was rather appalled by the attitudes expresses, even by the female former human rights advocate. There is very little tolerance of alternative views of sexuality here. I had to bite my tongue to keep from stomping all over their right to their own view of the issue. I didn't think that it was the right time to challenge such beliefs. But I was very disturbed. The Ghanian constitution treats homosexual acts as criminal offenses. As an American, that baffles me. The American attitude of "don't tell me what to do" is very much present in my reaction. I do not think that any government has the right to tell me who I am allowed to love or how I am permitted to express that love. I would take up arms to defend that right, I think. I have never seen myself as particularly strong in this particular American characteristic, but in this case, I am firm.
But I have to stop myself. What was the American position on homosexuality fifty years ago? I think that it was very similar to the current Ghanian views. Things will change, in their own time and at their own pace. I should not impose my views upon people who have no wish to hear them.
But this is something I will have to think about.
I think about Matt and Marshall and Kate from FMLA at Iowa.
It feels like a cop out to say 'give it time', but I cannot think of any other solution.

In Which I Experience Frustration

Ok. So, I kind of knew what I was in for when I signed up of study abroad in Africa. I knew that there would not really be the conveniences to which I am accustomed. I knew that things work a little differently here. I knew that. I did. But I guess that knowing it intellectually and physically experiencing it are two totally different kettles of fish. The power was out today. For the entire workday. It went out at about 9am and didn't come back on until after 5pm. There was no power anywhere on campus. Except, of course, the building that have generators. But it is only the really important office buildings (thankfully including the International Programs Office) that have generators. So all of the students were kind of stuck. No power in the dorms, no power in the classrooms. I find it rather amazing that there wasn't some kind of mass uprising. I was talking with some of the other USAC girls, and we decided that we would never take things like internet access and air conditioning for granted ever again. I think that this is a bit overly opptimistic. I think that Americans will be Americans. Day to day life is much easier in a place with dependable utilities. That is just a face. And it is difficult to adjust to a different way of life. This is also a fact. I think that it is very unusual for the average American to experience life without modern amenities. I think that I am firmly in the camp of people who cannot live without the trappings of American life. I grew up with them. They are a part of the way I navigate the world around me. But while I'm here, I suppose I could give it the old college try. Do as the Romans do, and all that jazz. But I am really not looking forward to lugging buckets of water up three flights of stairs when the water goes out. Knock on wood, please.
I think that it is worth it to be here, though. I'm being very anthropological, attempting participant observation. I once visited a friend from Case, whose family was in a quite different financial situation than my family is. He made a joke to me about viewing my time with him as an opportunity to observe as an anthropologist. I actually took him seriously for some parts of the experience.
This is a deviation from my "people are people everywhere" spiel, I don't think that I'm going back on that. I think that what I'm commenting on is the situation of institutions in Africa. The institutions established post-independence were often based on failed colonial systems or were affected by corrupt and transient governments. African countries have not been given the opportunity to freely work to build infrastructure. There are just too many other things to worry about. I don't know if this makes my situation here better or worse.
Perhaps that is my lesson from this: that there are two sides to the coin, for every sweet there is a sour, nothing is every only black or only white.

Side note: I think that it would be interesting to study behavior in the large markets here from an anthropological standpoint, as well as an economic standpoint. I think that there are systems opperating that are very different from how Westerners tend to view such exchanges.

In Which I Am Just a Bit Silly

Caitlyn and I have decided that we are like babies here. We don't really know how to take care of ourselves, we need constant help and supervision, and we whine a lot.
In the spirit of this decision I present my list of 10 worst places to have mosquito bites!

10 Worst Places to Have Mosquito Bites:
1. Bottom of your feet (totally happened to me already)
2. Tip of your nose (I live in fear)
3. On your Toes
4. On your Ears
5. On your Fingers
6. The Middle of your Back (right where you can't reach it)
7. Your Ankles (boney = itchy)
8. On you Behind (try sitting through class with one of these!)
9. Anywhere near your Eyes
10. Tie between Chin and Forehead (either is terribly conspicuous)

Caitlyn and I eat our first egg sandwiches: note the tinge of hysteria...

In Which I Contemplate Different Systems

I woke up today with one purpose in mind: to go and check when and where my classes will meet. I did not have much success. Registering for classes at UG is very different than registering for classes at Iowa. At Iowa, every part of registration takes place online, from selecting classes to dropping classes. There is a bit more involved in the process here. First, I have to register online, with the University of Ghana. Then I have to re-register with the International Programs office. And then I have to register with USAC! What a mess! I am so afraid that I will miss one of the steps and a class will end up on my schedule that I don't know about or that I think that I dropped, but actually audited or something like that.
But I have high hopes for my classes. I am taking two English classes: Introduction to Oral Literature and Introduction to African Literature. Both are classes that aren't really offered (or are seldom offered) in the US. I also want to take a Religious Studies class on African Myths and Symbols. That sounds like a lot of fun. But I almost think that I will be at a bit of a disadvantage. The Ghanian students have grown up with myths and stories that will probably be very helpful for the class, whereas I will be starting from scratch. Although, I guess I've heard a lot of Aesop's fables, and those are supposed to be based on traditional African stories. I guess what I mean is that I don't have the inherent knowledge of the meanings behind some things in stories. I don't know if a grasshopper is associated with particular traits or other symbols. I don't know about African plants or weather patterns. This will be an exercise in attention to detail, I think.

A Poem by W. E. B. DuBois, at his home in Accra

Kwame Kkrumah's tomb

Kwame Nkruma Memorial Park

I briefly met a Nigerian girl named Mary Ann this morning. One of our student guides, Peter, I think, said that there are a lot of Nigerian students here, both because the University of Ghana is better than most universities in Nigeria and because Ghana is generally more stable than Nigeria at the moment. I wonder what it must be like to have to leave your home country in order to get an education. Most of the professors and lecturers here received their advanced degrees in the US or in Europe. I wonder how it must feel to return to Ghana to teach. I would imagine that I would be grateful for the opportunity, in some ways, and be resentful in others. I think that there are benefits to international academic cooperation and education, but I think that there is also something to be said for being able to get everything you need to succeed from the country in which you feel at home. I think that I might like to come to an African university to teach at some point in the future. I think that I will learn a lot here, but that I could also teach a lot as well.

In Which I Have a Lazy Day

I had a very lazy day today. We were scheduled to go to the market in Medina (which is where I went to get my hair braided), but we were all really tired yesterday. As a group, we have been going almost non-stop this entire week. Last weekend was all about travel. Monday and Tuesday were UG orientation. Wednesday and Thursday were USAC orientation. And yesterday there was the tour of Accra. I needed a break! I slept in (our days have been starting at 7 or 8am) and wrote in my journal and lazed about. Then Caitlyn, Natasha, and I went to walk around campus. I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but UG is huge. It might be a mile wide and a half mile long. I will get lots of exercise this semester.We walked around campus to try to figure out when and where our classes would meet. The registration system here is very confusing. And redundant. But I guess it works for them. I have to register online for classes without knowing exactly where or where they will meet. Then, once the meeting times and places are announced, I have to go back and add or drop classes where there are conflicts. Then, for the English department, I have to go to the department office and register in person because there are a limited number of spots for some classes. I find it all very confusing. I am definitely used to registering online--quick and easy. I will register for my Fall classes at Iowa from here, hopefully with no problems.
I met a really nice girl at the night market today. The night market is a small cluster of stalls just behind our dorm building. You can literally buy anything you can think of there, bread, water, fast food, fruit, canned food, soda, vegetables. We stopped at one of the stalls and got egg sandwiches for dinner. There was a young girl minding the stall for her mother. Her name is Porsche. She is big for her age, I think. She said that she was in third form, which makes her about nine years old. She had here hair cut close to her head and small earrings in her ears. She smiled shyly at the three of us and asked us our names. Natasha had met her before, but Porsche had trouble with her name. She didn't understand my name at first, until I told her that it was just like the Hannah in the Bible. I have found that most people recognize my name in relation to the Bible. I had been told that people are very religious here, but I don't know it it had really sunk in. One of the other girls asked Priscilla B about going to church a few days ago. She definitely implied that everyone goes to church in Ghana. I don't know that I will tell anyone about my religious inclination. Or the lack thereof. Although it might be interesting to go and see what a service would be like here. One of the Priscillas goes to a Baptist church. That would be an experience.
We are going to the beach tomorrow, so that will probably be a long day, but undoubtedly very beautiful.

In Which I Obtain Braids

Before...

After!

 

I have never been one of those kinds of people who come back from Spring Break with a healthy glow and a head full of braids. And I never knew much about how my African American friends took care of their hair. Maybe I was a bit self-centered in thinking that their hair would be just like mine. Or maybe that's just human nature. I've never been able to tell the difference. Between human nature and self-interest, that is. But I learned a lot yesterday!  Priscilla A took Caitlyn and me to have our hair braided by the women who do hers. We had to take a bus and a taxi and walk through a market to get there.
I have gotten used to trotros, the small public buses used for transport in the city. They are all rather decrepit vans, crammed full of people. You sit very close together, but the fare is so inexpensive, that it is definitely worth it. It is generally between 30 and 70 cents (GHC), which is the equivalent of 15 to 30 US cents. I think that I am giving the wrong impression in terms of the cost of living here. Compared to the US, it is dirt cheap. I can get a water bottle for less that 50 US cents. I can get a loaf of bread for the same. A fast food meal is 1.50 USD.
But people here have a lot less than people in the states. I almost feel guilty for paying them so little. Our Ghanian student friends put things in perspective for crafty type things: a necklace bought in Ghana is not worth the same price as an identical one bought in the US because the necklace in Ghana has not bought a plane ticket to America. That makes me feel a little bit better. But giving a taxi driver 2 USD for a ten minute ride just feels wrong. I feel like I'm cheating them, as many times as I am assured I am not. Caitlyn said that I am too nice. I hope that isn't the case.
But the walk through the market was both terrifying and amazing. It is the kind of thing that you see in National Geographic or on the Travel Channel. There were stalls and blankets lining the sidewalk (which was really just a rocky dirt path), all piled high with cloth and electronics, food and animals. There were chickens packed into cages, looking out at me dully. There was bacon cracking and spitting on small, coal-fed grills. There were piles of mangoes and pineapples and plantains. It was overwhelming and perfect at the same time. There were so many people. And so many of them wanted our attention. People would call out to say hello or to call us "obruni," which basically means a white foreign person. Or they wanted us to look at what they were selling. Or to touch us. I'm fighting my very WASPish ideas of personal space, at the moment. I think I have said it before, but in Ghana, there is no personal space.
Today, we went on a tour of Accra. We met our guide, a nice man in his thirties named Joe, who will be with us for all of our tours this semester. We started with a tour of the house in which W. E. B. DuBois lived for the three years before his death. DuBois was a mentor or sorts to the first Ghanian president and panafrican theorist and writer Kwame Nkrumah. And Nkrumah seems to be very popular here. I have been taught that Nkrumah started out with good intentions but was corrupt by the time he was removed from office. The tour guide at the Nkrumah museum, the next stop, blamed the CIA. I'm not sure what to believe, because CIA interference in African governments is hardly unprecedented. We had lunch at a lovely cafe called Melting Moment, or something to do with melting. Then we were walked through Jamestown, which is one of the shanty villages in Accra. You see pictures of things like that. But I'm not sure if I just didn't believe it, or if I dismissed it because it was too depressing. I saw a river with banks made entirely of litter. White and black plastic clogging the water, like dead husks, drained of anything remotely human. The guide said that not all of the people who live there are terribly poor. Some could even afford houses of their own in other areas. But they stay because it is the place that they know. The place their family knows. I don't know how I would feel about that. I have been conditioned to want bigger and better.No matter how much I might resist the impulse, I am a snob at heart, although the tenancy manifests itself in my choice of what I do in my free time rather than in the career I have chosen to pursue.
I didn't expect this. I don't know what I expected, but this was not it. I have never seen this kind of poverty. And Ghana is considered the golden child of African development! What would it be like in a country like the Sudan or the Congo? I can't help but think about South Africa. There are places in South Africa that could be confused with American suburbs. And they have slums that go on for miles right next door. Is this what the West has done to Africa? I can't help but think what might have happened had Europeans never colonized this continent. Would Japan have reached the prominence it did had it been colonized? I think that it is so important for people in America and in Europe to see what colonialism had done to African nations. It left them in tatters, and they are only just starting to find their feet again. I want no part in anything like that. It should never happen again.

In Which I Take on Anthills

Before I left, I looked up the climate region for this part of Ghana. It is tropical, but it doesn't get as much rain as a rainforest. There is a rainy season (May to September) and a dry season (November to March). For the dry season, we sure go one hell of a thunderstorm last night. There were flashes of lightning lighting up the sky. Thunder boomed and rolled. It was all very dramatic. But also kind of fun to listen to as I tried to get to sleep.
I didn't sleep well again last night, and I do not seem to be developing any particular sleeping patterns. I couldn't sleep at all the first night; I got maybe one or two hours, tops. The next night I slept like a rock, and one of the other USAC girls, Caitlyn, had to come and knock on my door to wake me up. Last night was somewhere in the middle. I have never really been jet lagged before. In Germany, when I did the exchange in high school, I basically stayed up late and slept in as much as I could, and never really adapted to the time difference. I am here for much longer for this trip. And I will be very unhappy when classes start if I am not more acclimated.
But other than the thunderstorm, the weather has been hot and humid. There is haze around the sun even during the afternoon. This might have something to do with being so close to the ocean, but it is almost surreal to see the sun fighting its way through the haze. There have been some Lion King moments when the sun is red and right on the horizon or shining tantalizingly tangible beams down through the clouds. We actually make a lot of referrences to The Lion King, which is admittedly not the best resource for information about Africa.

I have been having the biggest geek-out of my life, the last day or so. A year ago, in Dr. Kruger's Post-colonial Literature class, we read Chinua Achebe's masterful novel Anthills of the Savannah. The central metaphor of the book compares post-colonial governments to the large, strangely-shaped anthills that are common in Nigeria. They are apparently common in Ghana, too. I guess it makes sense. Ghana and Nigeria aren't all that far away and have a similar climate. I saw the first ones from the balcony of my room. It overlooks the schoolyard of the University of Ghana primary school. There is a grouping of trees maybe two hundred meters from my building with several tall, inverted conical mounds. They are the same dusty red of the dirt and dust, but almost look like coral from a long evaporated sea. The most typical rise to a point and can, from the ones I've seen, be anywhere from three to twenty feet high. I have been telling everyone I possibly can about how amazing it is that I actually get to see these in person. And it is amazing. We looked up the anthills Achebe referenced, but pictures on the internet are nothing like the real thing. I can see how these amazing structures can weather storms, wind and rain and abuse. They are natural monument dotting the West African landscape. I get excited every time I see one, no matter how small.

I don't know that I have described where I am staying in any great detail. All of the international students stay in the International Student Hostels (ISH I and II). Hostels are essentially dorms. The building is square, with white plaster walls and a red tile roof--like all the buildings on campus; the molding on the doors and windows is painted black. There is a courtyard in the center of the building with grass and a few trees and flowers. Earlier this afternoon I saw a huge lizard skittering along the path that leads through it. The lizard had to be at least ten inches, maybe a foot, long. The building plan is open around the courtyard, with hallways with views of the courtyard. I am on the third floor, although they use the European system for naming floors, so my room number is a 200. I am all the way at the end of the hall furthest from the entrance to the building. My room is not terribly large nor terribly luxurious. I have a bed, a desk, a chair, a bookshelf, a dresser, and a  table,which is all I really need. All of the furniture is wooden and has seen some wear. It was all dusty when I got here. I think that, because it is the dry season, there is more dirt and dusty sorts of particles in the air, and over the break, more settled that normally would have had there been people living here. I will have a roommate eventually, a local, since I was not assigned another international student as a roommate. I am both excited and nervous about that. All of the other students I've met have been very nice, but I have always had terrible luck with roommates.
We're off to a Rastafarian party/concert on the beach in a bit. More on that later.

In Which My Adventure Begins

So. I'm here! And not in a creepy alien kind of way. There are so many things to say and write; I don't know how I will ever get them all down. This all started in September when I started looking at the different study abroad programs in Africa. I knew that I wanted to go somewhere unusual. Somewhere I would probably never have the chance to go again. I found options in both South Africa and Ghana, but the Ghana program, through USAC, seemed to have more of the classes and support that I wanted. And the deadline for the Winter term was two weeks away, so I still had time to apply. I think that I am very glad that I did. Two days ago, on January 19th, 2013, I flew from Chicago to Frankfurt, and then from Frankfurt to Accra, Ghana, arriving on the 20th quite late at night.
The plane ride was very long, and the layover in Frankfurt was even longer. Our flight arrived in Frankfurt at 7am. I was so tired! Because of the time change, I stayed awake all of Saturday night, and could only manage a few hours of sleep when I got to Accra. Monday was just a bit hellish. I was so tired. And three of us got mixed up about the time and showed up for breakfast an hour early! Ach!
We ate at a little place called The Canteen. There is a large tent with groupings of tables and a small rectangular building with a tin roof. A bunch of smaller tables were pulled together to make a long banquet-like table, and a buffet was set up off to the side. We're eating breakfast and dinner there all this week. So far we've had three meals. For breakfast, we were served toast or rolls, hard-boiled eggs, sausage, and rice porridge. There was instant coffee, tea, and mango juice. It was quite good, if not as the breakfasts to which I am accustomed. After breakfast, we were driven to a large hall where the University of Ghana (UG) orientation was to take place. Both Monday and Tuesday mornings we listened to the staff of the International Programs Office and guest speakers talk to us about procedures for the university, things to watch out for, and Ghanian culture. The talk on culture was the most interesting. It was given by the director of the African Studies department, a woman who absolutely insisted that we all call her Aunty Irene, because absolutely everyone does, including the President of the university! She was funny and sarcastic and very down-to-earth. She is the kind of personality meant for teaching. I can see her inspiring interest in anything she set her mind to teaching. In the afternoon, we took a break. I had the fan in my room fixed, so my second night was so much more comfortable than my first. In fact, I literally slept like a rock, and didn't wake up until Caitlyn knocked on my door at 7:30 to tell me that I was late and that everyone was waiting on me. I definitely need to buy an alarm clock.
This afternoon (Tuesday the 22nd), after orientation in the morning, we went on a tour of campus with Priscilla B. There are two Priscillas (A and B), both students at UG, who help out with the USAC students, along with two others, Peter and Seth. Priscilla B is a small girl, shorter than me by a few inches, and very tiny. She has creamy skin the color of coffee with just a touch of milk. Priscilla A is taller, fairly average in both height and size. Her skin is a beautiful dark chocolate. She is studying English, so we have lots to talk about. Peter is a very friendly and engaging guy. I picture him in the bright blue polo he was wearing yesterday. His skin is darker, almost like mahogany, and he is tall and wiry, like a runner. I have only just met Seth, so more on him later. The campus is a strange mixture of colonial architecture, beautiful and a bit run-down. The buildings all seem to be white plaster with red tile roofs. It is a nice effect, clean and bright in the direct sun, but it is a nearly constant reminder of the history of European involvement here.
Throughout the tour, I saw trees and flowers I had never seen before. There are trees that have delicate red flowers sprouting from the crowns of branches and dusty brown pods handing from  the tips. Priscilla B told me what they are called, but I have already forgotten. I have also seen several different bird that I have never encountered before. I think that I will try to find a book about the wildlife and fauna of Ghana so that I can identify all of the new things that I see. My Brant guidebook recommended a street in Accra for things like that--and also the University Bookshop.