In Which I Meet Monkeys!

I'm back from the Volta region. We spent the weekend there, based in one hotel and venturing forth from there. On Friday, we drove. For four hours. But it was worth it. We made it to the Tafi Atome Monkey Sanctuary around noon. It was a short excursion but a worthwhile one, I think. In the Tafi sanctuary, there are several hundred Mona monkeys. These are relatively small monkeys. They live in small family groups, mostly in the trees. All fairly typical of African arboreal monkeys. But tourists can meet these monkeys. I got to stand within a foot of them. One took a piece of banana from my hand (picture below).

I was definitely a little bit worried about the affect of food-induced tourism on the monkeys. What if they became dependent? That is not the point of a sanctuary. But the guide was quick to assure me that the few bananas our group used made up a very small part of the monkeys' diet. It was so cool to see them so close. Their paws were leathery, like dog paws. But they were so agile! They picked bits of banana out of the skin easily and quickly. I was once again reminded of why I think primates are so incredibly cool.

Our hotel for the weekend was nice. It was new. Still under construction, new. It seems like the high-end hotels here (rather than the very high-end) are pretty comperable to nice chain hotels in the US. The rooms are clean and well-presented. But a bit bland, generic. I am having the occasional daydream about a New England B and B.
Saturday, we did two things: we climbed to the highest point in Ghana and we visited Wli Falls. I am not going to describe the hike up the mountain. I am so out of shape. I was miserable the entire time. But I made it to the top, even though I was kicking and screaming the entire way! Peter, one of our Ghanians stayed with me the whole time, encouraging and distracting me. He gets a medal in my book for that.

The time we spent at Wli Falls, though, was my favorite by far. The falls are quite high, but not terribly wide. They empty into a small pool at the base of a cliff. The really cool thing is that there is a colony of bats living on the cliff-face next to the falls. At any point, I could look up and see a bat or two flying to a new perch. And once, one of the rangers came and banged on one of the benched near the pool, and a whole swarm of bats took to the sky, circling and squeaking! It was like something in a book. The whole afternoon there was like something from a dream. It was so wonderful.

The pool is so shallow (I think because the water is in motion, right?) that it is possible to walk right up under the falls. There is a lot of mist and wind, so it isn't the most comfortable experience in the world, but it was pretty darn cool for a few seconds. I was also just a little bit naughty and jumped off of the cliff into a deeper section of the pool. Melanie, another of the USAC girls, and I scouted the water for rocks and deepness. There was only one place that it was safe to jump. It was so much fun. But we got yelled at after the first time, so we had to stop. There are pictures of me jumping somewhere... I will track them down eventually. Saturday night we all went out to a canteena in Hohoe, the nearest town, and danced and listened to very loud music. Most of the music was Ghanian--and tends to be very good for dancing.
Today, we went to the Shai Hills Game Reserve. I got to see BABOONS! Really, really close, too. A family hangs out near the entrance gate, and are relatively tame. We got to get out of the bus and take pictures of them. We also saw a larger group of baboons, maybe thirty or forty, as we were driving through the reserve, and also a herd of antelope, who were startled by the bus and ran away beautifully. I am having major Lion King flashbacks. It is so cool that I can see this in person. Even if I do feel just a bit colonialist. The image of the white person being led on safari has deep and problematic roots--that you can trace directly back to the roots of colonialism during the late nineteenth century. But the baboons were really cool.

I really do like all of these tours that we're doing. I do. I just feel like such a tourist. I promised myself that I would try my hardest to not be a tourist here. That isn't why I'm here, and I don't want to be condescending (Is it condescending that I worry about being condescending all the time?), and I don't want to take advantage of my relative position of power as a white American. But I'm starting to think that I really can't avoid being a little bit touristy. If for no other reason, but that I generally stand out like a sore thumb and have no idea what I'm doing. Argh.

In Which There are Pictures!

On the eve of yet another weekend trip, I have been informed that I simply must post pictures from the last one. So, here is the canopy walk at Kakum National Park just North of Cape Coast.

 

In Which the Harmattan Cometh

I've been in Ghana nearly a month. I arrived on January 20th, and it is now February 15th. I think that it might be time to give some general impressions. I think that I stressed enough in earlier posts just how hot it is here. And it is. But I think that the heat won't be too much of a problem. Since this is the dry season, there are plenty winds--from the sea, the Harmattan. I had heard about the Harmattan winds before got here. They are the dry winds that come down from the Sahara, harsh and arid. They pick up the red dirt dried to dust and blow it in gusts into my eyes and nose. A bunch of the USAC girls have complained about their noses and eyes itching, and I have to agree. It feels like a less severe case of the hay fever I get at home in the fall. But I don't think Claratin will help with this. I cover my nose and mouth whenever a car drives past me on a dirt road (about a third of the roads on campus are packed dirt and gravel). I can feel the bits of grit in my eyes, and I have to stop for a moment to blink and regain my equilibrium.
One thing that has been bothering me is the debate that is going on at the moment about homosexuality in Ghana. The newly elected president appointed a woman to a new cabinet position--something about children, gender, and social services, I think. Anyway, she is a human-rights lawyer, and she made a statement about her  belief that people who identify as homosexual have the same rights and need to have those rights protected as anyone else. If she was working internationally, this would be a very reasonable belief to hold. But apparently, in Ghana, it is outrageously controversial. I listened to a part of her confirmation hearing on the radio. She was being grilled about her personal beliefs about homosexuality and her understanding of Ghana's laws that actually outlaw homosexual activity. I was horrified by the entire debacle. As someone who grew up in a liberal and open community, it is alien to me to encounter such blatant homophobia. Because that is what the root of the issue really is: in Ghana, it is considered wrong, evil, dirty, perverted, to engage in homosexual activities, to be homosexual. I am disturbed by this. As someone who has questioned and tried to openly consider my sexuality, someone who has friends who have done the same (although to different results, I suppose), it is difficult to understand such an attitude. I think that the Ghanian view is tied to the deeply rooted evangelical Christian community here. Christianity, and religion in general, play a much larger role in day-to-day life that I am used to. Some of my professors have even made passing remarks, assuming a shared understanding and belief in Christian ideas and practices. A professor who did that at Iowa would get sued. Or rather the university would be sued. Sued, sued, sued. I might even join the lawsuit. I think that secularity in public life is incredibly important, especially in a religiously diverse society. So, it's a bit difficult to tell some of the Ghanians I've met that I've never read the Bible, and that the only reason I ever will read the Bible is to gain perspective for literary analysis. It's difficult. I feel like I would be committing a major cultural faux pas were I to say such a thing. I don't want to disrespect their beliefs. Even if they are completely illogical. Whatever. Let's not go there (Yes, I'm talking to you Mother, dearest! Hahahaha).
Yeah. But classes have started. And I am finding that I have a lot of respect for the teachers here. I'm taking three classes through the University of Ghana and two classes just for USAC students. The USAC classes are Twi, the local language, and a class on Ghanian society, culture, government, and politics. The real title of that one is a bit of a mouthful. But basically it's a forum for discussing Ghana, past, present, and future.
Through UG, I'm taking two English classes. The first is and Intro to African Lit course. It is a very general survey, covering prose, poetry, and drama. I've only heard of half of the novelists we're reading and none of the poets or playwrights. It is a humbling experience to realize how much I don't know. But, then again, I am an undergraduate and am only in my second year of really studying English. I think I can be forgiven, just this once. The class is team-taught. One professor is taking the plays and most of the novels. The other is covering poetry and two novels--one of which is Chimamanda Adichie's beautiful book Purple Hibiscus. The professor who is staring the class off is an enthusiastic and welcoming man, maybe in his fifties. His lecture this week was on some of the problems with the term "African Literature." It's too broad, too nonspecific. I think that people often don't realize that Africa is absolutely huge, much larger than the United States, so much larger than Great Britain. And there are so many different cultures, languages, people, traditions. Lumping them all together is belittling and overly simplistic. I feel a little bit as though I've been reprimanded--even though I know that was not the intention at all. I have been generalizing more than I should. I'm sure that I generalize or stereotype Africa less often than most, but I'm still guilty of it. I am not the magnanimous and open-minded student I have created in my mind. I am defined by my context. And my context is so very different from those of the students sitting around me. But I think it will be a great class. It will probably just be a bit uncomfortable at times. Which will be good for me, I'm sure, in the long-term, at least. The second class is an upper-level seminar on Chinua Achebe. There are maybe twenty or twenty-five students in the class, and I also like the professor very much. He is less genial than the African Lit professor, but he is obviously wildly intelligent. I look forward to digging deeply into Achebe's novels.
The third class is History--Africa in the International Context of the 20th Century. Again, the class title is a mouthful. I think that I'll gain a really good background of European colonialism in the 20th century. We're looking a general trends and then specific cases. Very informative. And I've met a few girls in that class who are so nice. They helped me understand how to get the readings and how to sign up for a discussion group. I would have floundered otherwise. Sometimes, I feel like I'm meeting so many new people, and learning so many new names. And they all seem to remember me, but I am so overwhelmed trying to remember all of them. And I want to so badly. I want to remember everyone to whom I am introduced. Everyone. I've started writing names and descriptions in my little black Moleskine, but I think that will only help so much. Ah, well. I will try the best I can, and I guess that is all I can do. 

In Which I Return

Ok! So, I have my computer back, and it is working great! I almost started singing as I walked out of the computer repair store. It was a bit of a hassle to get it fixed, though. First, I brought it to the USAC office. I had absolutely no idea where I could take it. Computer repair in Africa? Not exactly something that seems intuitive (and I'm terrible for buying into the stereotype, but I was a little bit frantic...). Abigail, the program coordinator took it off to the little repair shop on campus while I was in class. The guy there kept it for five days. Five days without a computer! Tragedy! But then I went to see him on Monday, and he told me that he couldn't fix it. But he did tell me where I could get it fixed. This involved getting Abigail to get the name and address of the shop from him because I forgot the name almost as soon as he said it. Then I had to arrange for someone to go with me because there was no way that Abigail was going to let me wander around on my own (she is so wonderful!). So, a week from the day that my computer died, Peter and I set off for an unknown--to me, at least--destination off campus. Getting there involved taking a trotro to the mall, walking two blocks to another stop and taking another trotro. The computer repair shop was on a fairly upscale street, for Accra, actually. That means that there were two banks, a car dealership (Toyota, I think) and several boutiques in the area. The shop itself was set back from the road, in a compound with other buildings that looked like warehouses. There were piles computer boxes, laptops, monitors, and other miscellaneous parts littering the store; it was a bit of a mess. I'm very glad that Peter went with me. There were a bunch of guys hanging around in the back of the shop, and it took me a bit to figure out exactly what the manager said that I should do. But it was surprisingly easy to get it fixed. I sat down while the took a look at it. They told me how much it would cost. I went to an ATM two blocks away. And, presto! My computer would turn on again! Happy, happy day.
So, now I have to make up for a week and a half of not posting. A lot has happened. I never got to write about the Cape Coast trip, and classes have officially started. I think I'll have to break everything into parts and catch up as I can manage it.
The logical place to start would, of course, be Cape Coast. Cape Coast was last weekend, the 2nd and the 3rd of February. Cape Coast is a coastal city, maybe a two hour drive west of Accra. It is probably most well-known for its role in the Transatlantic slave trade, but it also has a university with an excellent teaching college and a flourishing harbor. Cape Coast has two of the best preserved European castles on the West African coast, Cape Coast Castle and Elmina Castle. Cape Coast Castle was built and run by the British. It was both the seat of the early colonial presence in Ghana (then the Gold Coast) and one of the hubs of the slave trade. Slaves were held in the castle until a ship came to take them to the Americas. Some slaves were held in the dungeon-like holding cells for six weeks.
On the outside, Cape Coast Castle is a beautiful building. It exemplifies everything that is aesthetically pleasing about colonial architecture. The walls of the castle are painted white. Sunlight reflects off of the water, making the whole structure seem to shine. Despite, the weather wear on the paint, the castle give the impression of being fresh and clean and bright. The whole building seems to be open to the sea--which is maybe fifty yards from the castle. I walked on the rocks between the castle and the ocean. They seem volcanic, with pockets of air that have been revealed by waves, and crabs scuttling from rock to rock.When I was standing on the ocean-facing wall of the castle, I could taste salt in the air, feel the wind in my hair and the bright heat of sunshine on my arms. It was a lovely moment. There are cannons lined up along all of the ocean-facing walls of the fort, on multiple levels, and there are piles of cannonballs behind them. The castle itself has parts, a main building and two wings surrounding a courtyard and the wall that overlooks the ocean. There are external stairs and walkways for most parts of the interior of the building, all leading back to the interior courtyard. It really is a bit like a castle, with surprise pocket rooms and beautiful views from balconies. There are fleets of fishing boats in the harbor next to the castle, wooden boats, painted, and flying colorful flags and banners. It was surprising to see so much color so near the ocean.
But underneath the castle is another story entirely. There is a steep passage that leads down from the interior courtyard to the holding cells. It is difficult to describe the cells adequately. The only ways that I can think of that seem accurate would be to say that they really were like dungeons and that I felt like I did when I visited Dachau seven years ago. It was so dark down there. And there would have been so many people. They would have been so afraid.
Obama visited Cape Coast Castle when he visited Ghana a few years ago. There is a plaque on the wall that memorializes his visit. It was a place that was symbolic of so much more. The entirety of modern issues with race can, at one point or another, be traced back to that spot on which I stood, looking out over the ocean. It is amazing what human greed can accomplish.

Later:
I remembered the day after I published this post that there was a Natasha Trethewey (I am a little bit obsessed with her...) poem that I kept trying to remember while I was walking around Cape Coast Castle. I got separated from the group at one point, and ended up all the way at one end of one of the wings, looking out over the ocean and the harbor. This poem just fits to me, somehow, despite it being about a place thousands of miles away from Ghana--in time and space.

THEORIES IN TIME AND SPACE

You can get there from here, though
there's no going home.

Everywhere you go will be somewhere
you've never been.  Try this:

head south on Mississippi 49,one-
by-one mile markers ticking off

another minute of your life. Follow this
to its natural conclusion--dead end

at the coast, the pier at Gulfport where
riggings of shrimp boats are loose stiches

in a sky threatening rain. Cross over
the man-made beach, 26 miles of sand

dumped on a mangrove swamp--burried
terrain of the past. Bring only

what you must carry--tome of memory,
its random blank pages. On the dock

where you board the boat for Ship Island,
someone will take your picture:

the photograph--who you were--
will be waiting when you return.

From Native Guard: Poems by Natasha Trethewey

In Which I Must Delay

There has been a bit of a snafu... I am having some major computer difficulties, so posts will be limited for a little while. But more to come, for sure!

In Which I am Off to Cape Coast

The USAC girls are off to Cape Coast, which is about two hours West of Accra and also on the coast, bright and early tomorrow morning! We will see Cape Coast Castle, which is supposed to be beautiful, Elmina Castle, and the Canopy Walk in Kakum National Park! Fun and busy weekend ahead!
It is a beautiful day here in Accra. The sun is shining brightly, but it is surprisingly cool. There is a steady breeze, and the humidity is lower than it has been this past week. I went to the USAC office this morning, and Claudia said that it was cold! I was amazed by that. My perception of temperature is so different. I wonder what I will be like in a few months...
I took pictures of a few of the flowering trees on campus. Everywhere I look, there seems to be something in bloom, in an array of colors. I am so glad that I got a new camera for this trip. There are so many details that I want to remember.