Like a brick wall it hit me – it was today I realized that I only have about two weeks left in Ghana. I don’t know how in the world over four months have already gone by. Looking back on it, I realize how much I love this place. Even with the harsh living conditions it grew on me. I know it sounds cliché, but I honestly feel like this place has changed me. Material posessions, mundane arguments, all that stuff just seems less important now. Life is short. I am going to miss the culture, friends, and such awesome experiences that have taught me so much over the past four months. I was told by a friend that judging from my blog I seemed sort of homesick. While I admit I do have my moments (usually when there is no running water or electricity and mounds of excrement piles and ferment in the stagnant toilet bowls). Other than that – I am mostly homesick for my family, friends, and food. I am surprisingly not so homesick for my car, house, or the rush of western life. Looking back on it, I experienced more during a random weekend traveling around in Ghana than I do in almost an entire quarter back in the States. This seriously has been the best four months of my life. You may be wondering what’s with the abnormally good mood? Well, I was on a walk across campus today when it hit me how lucky I was to be walking around in the middle of freaking Africa going to school. I mean, who does that? Today I finished another final on Development Strategies in Africa. The essay topic was literally, “Africa remains underdeveloped… Explain.” It’s a whole different world over here and I am trying to savor every moment before I have to go back. My Ghanaian roommate is borrowing his parent's car and a few of my Ghanaian friends are driving me to the airport on May 16 to see me off. It will be quite a sad spectacle looking back and waving goodbye to my life in Ghana and the friends I have made but I will be so stoked to see my family and dog again. I thank all of you that have followed along with my blog. Your comments on Facebook are the reason I continue writing. I can’t wait to see all you when I get back, but in the mean time I’m going to take as many pictures as possible and try and squeeze out a few more experiences in the next two weeks. I have two finals left and then I’m done. Until next time.
J
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
FYI
So, I just want everyone to know I just spent the last three hours of my life attempting to upload about 50 awesome National Geographic caliber pictures from my travels over the past month. Lucky you, the only one that actually uploaded was a picture of my dirty feet. I apologize for the lack of pictures, the internet works at snail's pace on a good day so I will continue my efforts. In the mean time, enjoy my feet!~
Monday, April 19, 2010
SOME STEREOTYPES ARE TRUE: WHITE MEN CAN'T DANCE (or at least this white man)
Just a Little Background
Today was the D-Day of performing arts here at the University of Ghana. I had two back-to-back final examination performances in front of two separate panels of judges. As luck would have it, they scheduled my Traditional African Drumming final at the same time as my Traditional African Dance final. So, immediately after dancing I had to run over to the music department and take the drumming final. Those of you know me well know anything music or dancing-related is simply not my forte'. I can’t even clap to a beat, so as you could imagine, I was pretty nervous for my performing arts examinations. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any whiter in Africa – I did.
Setting the Stage:
DANCE FINAL
The clock struck 7AM and I put on my dance uniform and went over my three dances and reviewed for my drumming performance. When I arrived at the examination room, the setting was exactly like American Idol. One of the judges called, “Next... Jaaassson Holley," and placed the number three on my shirt. I was told to enter the room. My heart raced as I entered. There were just four other people and myself standing in a line. The room was dimmly lit and in the front sat 5 intimidating judges and about 6 professional drummers that provided the music for the dances. At that moment, it hit me. What in the hell am I doing here? Have you ever felt that feeling that you are not at all where you are supposed to be – completely out of your element – completely out of place? Here I was about to give a performance for 3 real semester units of transferable grade and I was about to be graded on the one thing in life I am worst at… dancing. All of a sudden without warning the drummers started pounding away and since I was the first group to go I had no idea what to do – do I start dancing or wait for some sort of signal? After an awkward pregnant pause I decided I should start dancing… so I began. For some unknown reason, maybe it's genetics, I can never stay on the same beat as everyone else. I definitely have "White Dancer Syndrome." I just can’t stay on rhythm no matter how hard I try. After I completed the first dance and made several mistakes I knew I had to step it up for the second dance. I danced harder than I ever had before and even saw a few of the judges laugh. Hopefully a laugh of approval but not likely. Overall I knew I gave it my all – a valiant effort. I’m taking the course pass/no pass so I just have to get a C or above in order to get a Pass grade so dance class doesn’t ruin my GPA. On the way out of the examination room the professor placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "Great effort but you looked a little tense." This is the same professor last week that asked me if I was just walking around or dancing – so I was glad that she knew I was dancing this time.
DRUMMING FINAL
Immediately after my dances I ran over to the music department and prepared for my drum final. This setting was even more intimidating than the dance because I was told to enter a small dark room in front of 3 judges and immediately was asked the origin of the music "Gota" that I was performing and when it was used. Luckily, I prepared for questioning so I spoke for 4 minutes about the piece until one of the judges interrupted me and said, “Just play the song.” in a frustrated voice. So after that rough start it was game time. I thought I performed flawlessly because I had practiced it about 400 times prior. It sounded correct to my ear but at the very end of the performance the professor said, “Son you are very good, but you left your babies behind.” I don’t know what in the world that even means. Maybe, I played too fast. Possibly I was off beat from the other 4 people in my group and doing my own thing? I’m not quite sure. Anyway I was kind of disappointed in myself for playing off beat because I had practiced so much but I had to keep it together and move on. Next, I had to play the bell. The cow bell mind you is the bain of my existence. It makes it very loud and clear that I don’t have rhythm. The only problem is that the drummers depend on a good bell rhythm in order to stay on track. I thought I was doing just fine until one of the judges shook his head, stood up from the panel, walked over to me – took the bell out of my hands and started playing. I just hung my head. I’m sure this didn’t help my overall grade. I tried to finish the rest of the music the best I could and hold it together with the supporting drums, etc. All the judges looked angry. One judge answered his cell phone during my performance and I’m pretty sure one judge was asleep. That was definitely one of my rougher final examinations. I just pray I performed well enough to get a pass on my transcript. At least I can say I faced my greatest fear of dancing and performing a musical instrument in front of judges for an academic grade.
A Look Into My Last 4 Weeks
I’m now officially done with classes and am about to embark on finals month. Yes, finals take an entire month here. I have about one final per week and then depart on May 16th. Since my last final is May 10th I intend to travel for about four days. Maybe out of Ghana and into some surrounding African Countries. Thanks so much as always for reading the blog.
J
Today was the D-Day of performing arts here at the University of Ghana. I had two back-to-back final examination performances in front of two separate panels of judges. As luck would have it, they scheduled my Traditional African Drumming final at the same time as my Traditional African Dance final. So, immediately after dancing I had to run over to the music department and take the drumming final. Those of you know me well know anything music or dancing-related is simply not my forte'. I can’t even clap to a beat, so as you could imagine, I was pretty nervous for my performing arts examinations. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any whiter in Africa – I did.
Setting the Stage:
DANCE FINAL
The clock struck 7AM and I put on my dance uniform and went over my three dances and reviewed for my drumming performance. When I arrived at the examination room, the setting was exactly like American Idol. One of the judges called, “Next... Jaaassson Holley," and placed the number three on my shirt. I was told to enter the room. My heart raced as I entered. There were just four other people and myself standing in a line. The room was dimmly lit and in the front sat 5 intimidating judges and about 6 professional drummers that provided the music for the dances. At that moment, it hit me. What in the hell am I doing here? Have you ever felt that feeling that you are not at all where you are supposed to be – completely out of your element – completely out of place? Here I was about to give a performance for 3 real semester units of transferable grade and I was about to be graded on the one thing in life I am worst at… dancing. All of a sudden without warning the drummers started pounding away and since I was the first group to go I had no idea what to do – do I start dancing or wait for some sort of signal? After an awkward pregnant pause I decided I should start dancing… so I began. For some unknown reason, maybe it's genetics, I can never stay on the same beat as everyone else. I definitely have "White Dancer Syndrome." I just can’t stay on rhythm no matter how hard I try. After I completed the first dance and made several mistakes I knew I had to step it up for the second dance. I danced harder than I ever had before and even saw a few of the judges laugh. Hopefully a laugh of approval but not likely. Overall I knew I gave it my all – a valiant effort. I’m taking the course pass/no pass so I just have to get a C or above in order to get a Pass grade so dance class doesn’t ruin my GPA. On the way out of the examination room the professor placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "Great effort but you looked a little tense." This is the same professor last week that asked me if I was just walking around or dancing – so I was glad that she knew I was dancing this time.
DRUMMING FINAL
Immediately after my dances I ran over to the music department and prepared for my drum final. This setting was even more intimidating than the dance because I was told to enter a small dark room in front of 3 judges and immediately was asked the origin of the music "Gota" that I was performing and when it was used. Luckily, I prepared for questioning so I spoke for 4 minutes about the piece until one of the judges interrupted me and said, “Just play the song.” in a frustrated voice. So after that rough start it was game time. I thought I performed flawlessly because I had practiced it about 400 times prior. It sounded correct to my ear but at the very end of the performance the professor said, “Son you are very good, but you left your babies behind.” I don’t know what in the world that even means. Maybe, I played too fast. Possibly I was off beat from the other 4 people in my group and doing my own thing? I’m not quite sure. Anyway I was kind of disappointed in myself for playing off beat because I had practiced so much but I had to keep it together and move on. Next, I had to play the bell. The cow bell mind you is the bain of my existence. It makes it very loud and clear that I don’t have rhythm. The only problem is that the drummers depend on a good bell rhythm in order to stay on track. I thought I was doing just fine until one of the judges shook his head, stood up from the panel, walked over to me – took the bell out of my hands and started playing. I just hung my head. I’m sure this didn’t help my overall grade. I tried to finish the rest of the music the best I could and hold it together with the supporting drums, etc. All the judges looked angry. One judge answered his cell phone during my performance and I’m pretty sure one judge was asleep. That was definitely one of my rougher final examinations. I just pray I performed well enough to get a pass on my transcript. At least I can say I faced my greatest fear of dancing and performing a musical instrument in front of judges for an academic grade.
A Look Into My Last 4 Weeks
I’m now officially done with classes and am about to embark on finals month. Yes, finals take an entire month here. I have about one final per week and then depart on May 16th. Since my last final is May 10th I intend to travel for about four days. Maybe out of Ghana and into some surrounding African Countries. Thanks so much as always for reading the blog.
J
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Trip to Drum Professor's Village
Introductory remarks
I seem to be on the homestretch of my journey in West Africa. I have just about 5 and a half weeks left until I board United Emirates on May 16th and come back to the land of familiarity. I only have one more week of lectures, one week of revision, and three weeks of finals. What a journey this has been. If you have followed along with my blog you know full well how jam-packed my life has been with new and extraordinary experiences over the past three to four months. Though I am so grateful and lucky to have a positive and definitely life-changing experience this semester, I will be ready to come home. It wasn’t until this past week that I really started missing my life in the States. It’s strange that after being here for about 4 months, I no longer constantly think about back home. Interestingly, because I have been away and out of real contact with the States, my life in Ghana has become my reality and I started to rarely think about my life in the States. It wasn’t until just yesterday I remembered how I have a car back home and how weird it will be to go back to my old life with law, order, and most of all, efficiency.
Trip to Drum Professor's Village
Last Friday I set off with my professor and about 15 other students from my Traditional African Drumming class to my professor’s small and remote village called Jajabo in the Eastern Volta region of Ghana where he grew up. While you may be used to blogs jam-packed with weird experiences like baboon attacks or the brakes going out on our bus – my trip with my drum professor was exciting in its own way. I got to completely experience the rural village life for three days. Eat what they eat, shower out of a bucket, sleep on cement, and yes use the toilet hole…. everything!! Even though we were quite the spectacle, all the villagers were so nice and curious about us. While some of the places in Ghana I have visited are camera shy, the villagers in Jajabo loved their picture to be taken and then to see themselves on the camera, so I took about 200 very cool pictures. The most amazing part of the trip was how village life carried on as it would normally as if we weren’t there so we got a real taste of what life in an African villager's life is like. For one of the first times during my travels here in Africa I didn’t feel like an American tourist peering in from afar at African village life – I actually got to submerge myself in it.
What happened?
Day 1 Arrival
Once we arrived, about 50 village children ran out to greet us. My hair was quite a spectacle once again. We stumbled upon a traditional ceremony (which happens one Friday per month) which consisted of traditional drumming and African dancing. I didn’t know this but apparently my drum professor is a very big deal in all of West Africa and is a sort of famous man even in Europe where he has played for the royalty. He is known as "Master Johnson" or "Master Drummer." Once we arrived at the drum and dance ceremony the villagers were so happy to see the drum master. After he hugged all his family and friends he grew up with, all the Ubronis (white people) were pushed into a huge circle of about 100 villagers and my drum professor told us to dance. As usual, people took one look at my dancing and were overwhelmed with laughter but, it’s cool, I’m used to that by now. The ceremony was a very interesting experience because I didn’t think that part of African culture was still alive in Africa. I thought the ritualistic dances in circles and traditional drumming was only something we see in anthropological “stereotypical African movies” or learn about in school and not part of modern village life. But I was wrong. That aspect of African culture tracing way back to their roots and ancestors is very much alive. To my surprise, all the villagers were dressed in beautiful, ornate, and colorful cloths with traditional African designs. It was sort of a surreal experience because I had to take a moment and acknowledge the fact that I was in the middle of some rural village partaking in an ancient African ceremony. Life doesn’t get any cooler than that. After about 2 hours of dancing, our drum prof called us over to this small hut-like building and gave us alcoholic shots of Apateshie (the local spirit or alcohol). It did feel pretty weird taking shots of alcohol with my professor (especially when he said “it burns so good,” but I suppose anything goes in Africa. The sleeping situation was a bit rough both literally and figuratively. Thin foam mats and cement not to mention it was about 100 degrees with no air circulation and yes, cockroaches. A lot of them. All made for a rough sleep but it’s a small price to pay for the experience.
Day 2 The Funeral
For the first half of the day we pretty much just played with the village children and wandered around and talked to the locals. Since it was a rural village they didn’t speak much English so our interactions were basically broken sign language. Our drum prof. then took us to a nearby village where about 300 villagers were celebrating the death of the village elder. Yes, I said celebrating… surprising huh?. Apparently here in Africa when a person dies at an old age, the funeral is not supposed to be sad. There is drinking, dancing, drumming, and traditional festive funeral activities. I personally think that’s the way funerals should be – a celebration of life not a mourning of death. It was pretty cool that we got to partake in ceremonial funeral, something I’m sure not to many foreigners get to experience. Who would have thought that during my stay in Ghana I would have witnessed a wedding and a funeral?
Day 3 The Chief
Before we set out to meet the chief my drum professor took us to his brother’s house where he said it was custom to drink alcohol before meeting the chief and to give the chief a bottle of brandy as an offering or gift. I’m pretty sure Master Johnson just wanted another excuse to drink with his students but in any event we sat there at 11am and drank hard alcohol with my professor. He sort of reminds me of our late neighbor Dalton Hudson. He is just the kindest and nicest old man you would ever want to meet who dedicates his life to making other people happy. He was so excited to show us around his village.
After, we got to meet the chief. When we showed up, the chief was surrounded by 2 village elders, some sort of guard in a toga, and a linguist who was an English translator. Interestingly, all of the “higher ups” were in exotic togas except for the chief who was only wearing a shower towel. I’m pretty sure he got embarrassed when we showed up because he quickly ran into his house to put on his chief toga and crown. On the way over, my classmates selected me to give the formal greeting as the ambassador on behalf of the United States. I must say it was a pretty epic moment when I bowed to the chief and said, “On behalf of the United States I extend my greatest gratitude for your hospitality and sharing the Jajabo village with us.” The chief then told his linguist to ask me if I could tell the royal council one thing that is unique about the United States as he himself had never been. I replied, “I come from a land of freedom and democracy. A place where all cultures come together as one. A place of hope.” For a brief moment I felt like President Obama. Even though my impromptu speech was a tad corny, it was still a very cool experience. After I gave my greeting to the chief, he stared at me for about 10 seconds and said, “Obama” and reached his hand out to shake my hand. I know it sounds silly now looking back on it, but everybody was dead silent and it was a really cool feeling. For some reason it really made me want to be in a position where I could have great influence in politics and law. After we met the chief we went back to the village and ate some fufu which is one of the food staples in Ghana. It is the smashed playdough-type substance that you swallow whole with a little sauce on it. I’m not the biggest fan of food you have to swallow without chewing because it tastes bad, but what are you going to do?
Anyway, the rest of our stay in the village was just free time. I walked around and played with the kids and spoke with the elders. I also saw a group of people making kente cloth with a huge wooden loom so I bought my mom a scarf and filmed the process. After another tough night's sleep we headed back to campus.
Corruption at school?
So, I know this story doesn’t really fit with the rest of the blog but I have to add it in. So a few days after we got back from the village I was in lecture and the professor started lecture by saying, “As you all know the professor evaluations will soon be administered. I need not remind you that how you rate my performance as a professor may very well effect your grade.” I laughed to myself and looked around thinking that the professor was joking. Apparently he was not. It’s a different world over here, his job must be on the line. I suppose I will never know if it was a joke or not but I suppose I am going to play this one safe and not give him a bad review.
IN CONCLUSION,
I have been thinking about this a lot lately so I thought it might be beneficial to my readers if I added this to my blog.
Changes
We are truly a sum of our experiences. That is, every single person and experience we come in contact with over the course of our life contributes in shaping our very existence on this planet. I never believed this to be completely true, until now. I thought I knew who I was yet also knew that I wanted to be more. I knew that I was a hard worker, had an exceptionally amazing family and friends, and lived a privileged life, but I knew that in a way I was living in a bubble. The privileged bubble of Fair Oaks and UC Santa Barbara is seeming more and more like a dreamworld which is simply not a reality for 99% of the rest of the world. Many of you had asked why I wanted to choose Africa, and in short I wanted to find the full potential in myself. I wanted my eyes to be opened to most people's reality. I know that sounds cliché, but I knew that there just had to be more to life than the suburban bubble. While studying hard and partying/having fun every weekend for much of my college life, UCSB has been a terrific experience and something I don’t regret but coming to Africa has opened my eyes to a different reality and further ignited in me the pre-existing flame to want to make a major difference during my short stay in this life. I know I want leave a major positive impact – and whatever that impact only the future can tell.
Thank you all so much as always for reading the blog. I will see most of you in just about 5 weeks. Anyway, enough rambling it’s time to get back to studying for finals.
Best,
J
I seem to be on the homestretch of my journey in West Africa. I have just about 5 and a half weeks left until I board United Emirates on May 16th and come back to the land of familiarity. I only have one more week of lectures, one week of revision, and three weeks of finals. What a journey this has been. If you have followed along with my blog you know full well how jam-packed my life has been with new and extraordinary experiences over the past three to four months. Though I am so grateful and lucky to have a positive and definitely life-changing experience this semester, I will be ready to come home. It wasn’t until this past week that I really started missing my life in the States. It’s strange that after being here for about 4 months, I no longer constantly think about back home. Interestingly, because I have been away and out of real contact with the States, my life in Ghana has become my reality and I started to rarely think about my life in the States. It wasn’t until just yesterday I remembered how I have a car back home and how weird it will be to go back to my old life with law, order, and most of all, efficiency.
Trip to Drum Professor's Village
Last Friday I set off with my professor and about 15 other students from my Traditional African Drumming class to my professor’s small and remote village called Jajabo in the Eastern Volta region of Ghana where he grew up. While you may be used to blogs jam-packed with weird experiences like baboon attacks or the brakes going out on our bus – my trip with my drum professor was exciting in its own way. I got to completely experience the rural village life for three days. Eat what they eat, shower out of a bucket, sleep on cement, and yes use the toilet hole…. everything!! Even though we were quite the spectacle, all the villagers were so nice and curious about us. While some of the places in Ghana I have visited are camera shy, the villagers in Jajabo loved their picture to be taken and then to see themselves on the camera, so I took about 200 very cool pictures. The most amazing part of the trip was how village life carried on as it would normally as if we weren’t there so we got a real taste of what life in an African villager's life is like. For one of the first times during my travels here in Africa I didn’t feel like an American tourist peering in from afar at African village life – I actually got to submerge myself in it.
What happened?
Day 1 Arrival
Once we arrived, about 50 village children ran out to greet us. My hair was quite a spectacle once again. We stumbled upon a traditional ceremony (which happens one Friday per month) which consisted of traditional drumming and African dancing. I didn’t know this but apparently my drum professor is a very big deal in all of West Africa and is a sort of famous man even in Europe where he has played for the royalty. He is known as "Master Johnson" or "Master Drummer." Once we arrived at the drum and dance ceremony the villagers were so happy to see the drum master. After he hugged all his family and friends he grew up with, all the Ubronis (white people) were pushed into a huge circle of about 100 villagers and my drum professor told us to dance. As usual, people took one look at my dancing and were overwhelmed with laughter but, it’s cool, I’m used to that by now. The ceremony was a very interesting experience because I didn’t think that part of African culture was still alive in Africa. I thought the ritualistic dances in circles and traditional drumming was only something we see in anthropological “stereotypical African movies” or learn about in school and not part of modern village life. But I was wrong. That aspect of African culture tracing way back to their roots and ancestors is very much alive. To my surprise, all the villagers were dressed in beautiful, ornate, and colorful cloths with traditional African designs. It was sort of a surreal experience because I had to take a moment and acknowledge the fact that I was in the middle of some rural village partaking in an ancient African ceremony. Life doesn’t get any cooler than that. After about 2 hours of dancing, our drum prof called us over to this small hut-like building and gave us alcoholic shots of Apateshie (the local spirit or alcohol). It did feel pretty weird taking shots of alcohol with my professor (especially when he said “it burns so good,” but I suppose anything goes in Africa. The sleeping situation was a bit rough both literally and figuratively. Thin foam mats and cement not to mention it was about 100 degrees with no air circulation and yes, cockroaches. A lot of them. All made for a rough sleep but it’s a small price to pay for the experience.
Day 2 The Funeral
For the first half of the day we pretty much just played with the village children and wandered around and talked to the locals. Since it was a rural village they didn’t speak much English so our interactions were basically broken sign language. Our drum prof. then took us to a nearby village where about 300 villagers were celebrating the death of the village elder. Yes, I said celebrating… surprising huh?. Apparently here in Africa when a person dies at an old age, the funeral is not supposed to be sad. There is drinking, dancing, drumming, and traditional festive funeral activities. I personally think that’s the way funerals should be – a celebration of life not a mourning of death. It was pretty cool that we got to partake in ceremonial funeral, something I’m sure not to many foreigners get to experience. Who would have thought that during my stay in Ghana I would have witnessed a wedding and a funeral?
Day 3 The Chief
Before we set out to meet the chief my drum professor took us to his brother’s house where he said it was custom to drink alcohol before meeting the chief and to give the chief a bottle of brandy as an offering or gift. I’m pretty sure Master Johnson just wanted another excuse to drink with his students but in any event we sat there at 11am and drank hard alcohol with my professor. He sort of reminds me of our late neighbor Dalton Hudson. He is just the kindest and nicest old man you would ever want to meet who dedicates his life to making other people happy. He was so excited to show us around his village.
After, we got to meet the chief. When we showed up, the chief was surrounded by 2 village elders, some sort of guard in a toga, and a linguist who was an English translator. Interestingly, all of the “higher ups” were in exotic togas except for the chief who was only wearing a shower towel. I’m pretty sure he got embarrassed when we showed up because he quickly ran into his house to put on his chief toga and crown. On the way over, my classmates selected me to give the formal greeting as the ambassador on behalf of the United States. I must say it was a pretty epic moment when I bowed to the chief and said, “On behalf of the United States I extend my greatest gratitude for your hospitality and sharing the Jajabo village with us.” The chief then told his linguist to ask me if I could tell the royal council one thing that is unique about the United States as he himself had never been. I replied, “I come from a land of freedom and democracy. A place where all cultures come together as one. A place of hope.” For a brief moment I felt like President Obama. Even though my impromptu speech was a tad corny, it was still a very cool experience. After I gave my greeting to the chief, he stared at me for about 10 seconds and said, “Obama” and reached his hand out to shake my hand. I know it sounds silly now looking back on it, but everybody was dead silent and it was a really cool feeling. For some reason it really made me want to be in a position where I could have great influence in politics and law. After we met the chief we went back to the village and ate some fufu which is one of the food staples in Ghana. It is the smashed playdough-type substance that you swallow whole with a little sauce on it. I’m not the biggest fan of food you have to swallow without chewing because it tastes bad, but what are you going to do?
Anyway, the rest of our stay in the village was just free time. I walked around and played with the kids and spoke with the elders. I also saw a group of people making kente cloth with a huge wooden loom so I bought my mom a scarf and filmed the process. After another tough night's sleep we headed back to campus.
Corruption at school?
So, I know this story doesn’t really fit with the rest of the blog but I have to add it in. So a few days after we got back from the village I was in lecture and the professor started lecture by saying, “As you all know the professor evaluations will soon be administered. I need not remind you that how you rate my performance as a professor may very well effect your grade.” I laughed to myself and looked around thinking that the professor was joking. Apparently he was not. It’s a different world over here, his job must be on the line. I suppose I will never know if it was a joke or not but I suppose I am going to play this one safe and not give him a bad review.
IN CONCLUSION,
I have been thinking about this a lot lately so I thought it might be beneficial to my readers if I added this to my blog.
Changes
We are truly a sum of our experiences. That is, every single person and experience we come in contact with over the course of our life contributes in shaping our very existence on this planet. I never believed this to be completely true, until now. I thought I knew who I was yet also knew that I wanted to be more. I knew that I was a hard worker, had an exceptionally amazing family and friends, and lived a privileged life, but I knew that in a way I was living in a bubble. The privileged bubble of Fair Oaks and UC Santa Barbara is seeming more and more like a dreamworld which is simply not a reality for 99% of the rest of the world. Many of you had asked why I wanted to choose Africa, and in short I wanted to find the full potential in myself. I wanted my eyes to be opened to most people's reality. I know that sounds cliché, but I knew that there just had to be more to life than the suburban bubble. While studying hard and partying/having fun every weekend for much of my college life, UCSB has been a terrific experience and something I don’t regret but coming to Africa has opened my eyes to a different reality and further ignited in me the pre-existing flame to want to make a major difference during my short stay in this life. I know I want leave a major positive impact – and whatever that impact only the future can tell.
Thank you all so much as always for reading the blog. I will see most of you in just about 5 weeks. Anyway, enough rambling it’s time to get back to studying for finals.
Best,
J
Friday, April 9, 2010
Quick update (more coming soon)
Hope everything is going well. I am in the process of writing a new blog update but in the meantime I wanted to let everyone know I am still doing well. The semester is coming to a close and I will be coming home in 5 weeks!! Its amazing how fast time went by. I have tried to upload more pictures but as you know by reading the blog, sometimes things just don’t work properly here. Ghana has definitely d taught me the virtue of patience. I am going to really miss this place when I leave, but at the same time I am about ready to go home and see my family and friends. Its been too long. Please stay tuned in the next couple of days for a new update.
Best,
J
Best,
J
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Past 2 Weeks and Trip Across 3 Nations
Ghanaian High School reunion/tribal ritual
One of my Ghanaian friends at the University invited me to a bonfire where there was high school reunion. Thinking that I was going to roast marshmallows and s'mores on the beach, I was pretty excited. But as you may have gathered from the rest of my blog entries, nothing here is normal or expected. We drove about 10 minutes from campus into this woods area. As we pulled up there were about 600 Ghanaian students in a line carrying torches, marching, and singing some song in their local language. Once they got about 50 feet from the fire they chucked their torch high in the air toward the bonfire and added to the 20ft flames. It was really cool, but at the same time everything in me was saying that I probably shouldn’t be there. The entire event sort of reminded me of those movies where the village people chase out the outsider with pitchforks and torches. Sort of like a reverse KKK ceremony but I decided I was safe enough so we hung around. I had never felt more out of place in my life, even counting my African dance class. There were about 600 or more Ghanaian people and one token white person- me. I felt like a celebrity as people took pictures with me and wanted to shake my hand as I walked by. Never a dull moment...
Dog Incident (WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE ANGRY AND SAD OR ARE UNDER 16 years old)
On a more dark and sullen note one of my friends witnessed the killing of a dog outside our dorms. I contemplated adding this to the blog because it is so evil – but I wanted this blog to be as true to my experience as possible. Apparently a man picked up a dog by the tail and flung it around and hit the poor dog's face against the cement. To silence the yelping animal the man then kicked the dog against a light post. The man then bagged the yelping dog and calmly walked away. I was really really upset after I heard of the incident and asked my Ghanaian roommate if that was normal. He told me that sometimes the more poor people up north eat dog in order to stay alive but had never seen such thing at the University. I suppose I’m being ethnocentric or biased but I feel no animal no matter what culture should be tortured the way this poor dog was. I have to face the fact I am in a different culture here, but I feel that you reach a point where some things are just wrong…… On a brighter note, the rest of this blog entry is about my trip to Benin!!!
TRIP TO BENIN
Yet another amazing weekend traveling around West Africa with some of my California friends (John, Helen, and Brit). In a span of 9 hours I managed to cross three African nations and ended up in Benin. The journey to Benin was a little ridiculous to say the least, but my adventures are definitely memorable. Prior to leaving Ghana my dad got in contact with one of his friends in the United States who actually grew up in a village in Benin. My dad’s friend knows the Princess of Benin and was good friends with the cousin of the princess named Godfried whom was our contact once we were to arrive in Benin. We had absolutely no idea what to expect on our journey. We didn’t know if we would be staying in a palace, get to meet the king, or how in the world we would even be able to meet Godfried once in Benin because our Ghanaian phones don’t work across the border. Anyway, nothing is wrong with a little adventure so we assumed the risks end embarked on a weekend we won’t soon forget.
Journey to Togo Border
First of all, the trip began by a group of Ghanaians pushing our bus down the road in hopes that would jump-start our stubborn bus engine. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of our journey to Benin. It was surprisingly similar that scene in Little Miss Sunshine. The scenery from Ghana to Togo was similar to the I5 in California but with skinnier cows on the roadside. Anyway, once we got to the Ghanaian border I was questioned by one of the Togo border police as to what I was studying at the University of Ghana. After I replied, “political science” the policeman shouted something in Twi (one of the local languages) and about 6 or 7 border military patrol surrounded me with AK47s all shouting at once. My heart pounded because my friends had already walked through the border and were waiting for me at the other side while I was alone, being interrogated. I had NO idea what was going on! Finally I understood one man who yelled, “Why are you studying political science? Why do you want to go to Togo? Are you studying human rights?” What exactly do you study in political science?” My voice was shaky as I replied that I was not studying human rights and that I am International Relations major. I explained that I was only traveling through Togo to get to Benin for visiting purposes and promised I was not there for any political matters. After about 7 minutes of further questioning, the Togo border patrol finally agreed to let me pass. On the drive through Togo I thought a lot about what happened at the border and it sort of made me nervous as to why they were inquiring if I was there to study human rights. That makes me think there was something to hide.
Journey to Benin Border
The adventures did not stop at the Ghana/Togo border. About half-way through Togo the brakes on our bus gave out and we hit the center divider after barely missing two other cars. John, Helen, Brit and I were all pretty freaked out but the driver was laughing. We asked the driver if it was safe to stay on the bus and he replied, “Yea there shouldn’t be any more problems and winked at us. So ensuring right? Since the bus could no longer stop or slow down we literally drove about 6mph across the rest of the nation of Togo and into Benin. The scenery of Togo was a stark contrast to Ghana. The coast was quite similar to that of Hawaii with beautiful white sand beaches and tropical forests inland. At the Benin border some people starting pounding on our slow moving bus so we asked the driver what was going on. He calmly replied they are probably just criminals so refrain from opening the doors. We all looked at each other and thought “only in Africa would somebody say don’t worry they are just criminals.” Looking back on it, the fact I was interrogated, the brakes went out on the bus, and criminals pounded on the bus to get in just seemed fitting. I have grown to expect the unexpected. We had another big hassle at the border between Togo and Benin because we did not buy visas prior because we were told we buy them at the border. After about 45 minutes of arguing (they only speak French mind you) we finally convinced the border patrol to give us a 48 hour temporary visa. So once in Benin we called Godfried (the cousin of the princess) from one of the border patrol’s cell phones.
Our Stay In Benin
Godfried picked us up in front of the Benin soccer stadium and took us back to his house. I swear, Godfried has to be the kindest African man I have ever met. Once we got to his house he had already prepared a traditional Benin dish for us and brought out a bunch of drinks. Even though we were complete strangers he treated us as royalty, such a good guy. We pleaded with him to let us pay for the food and gas but told us to save our money.
The next day (Friday) Godfried picked us up bright and early and drove us through the main city and then about 5 hours to a small and remote village where he and my dad’s friend grew up as children. Since Benin was a French colony until the 1960's they were heavily influenced by French culture. Traveling from English Ghana to French Benin was like traveling to Europe. We found ourselves in a land of baguettes, cheese, French top hats and pastries. The nation reminded me of when I traveled to France when I was in high school, the similarities were quite shocking. Even the Africans looked French. Weird huh?. To my surprise there were little to no cars, just thousands of motorbikes crowding the streets. Even the taxis were all motorbikes. In the city, the smog from all the motorbikes was almost unbearable and the visibility low.
Meeting the King of Benin
On the way to the village we stopped at the Palace of the King and paid about $2 to meet the guy. Im pretty sure he was just a tourist attraction but I was determined to meet the King. Tensions were high at the palace because apparently there had been some sort of conflict with a rival king a week prior but Godfried convinced the guards to let us in. Anyway, the guards briefed us on how we were supposed to greet the king. He said that we must, “Take off our shoes and go down on our knees and bow down touching our heads to the dirt twice then proceed toward the king about 5 steps and repeat the same process and wait until the King addresses us.” The King looked exactly like Jaba the Hud, about 400lbs and just sort of sat there with a ceremonial nose jewelry covering a strip of his face. To both sides of the King sat two of his several wives whom handed him food and drink while he continued to just sit there. The King said in French, “Hello and welcome to Africa.” I laughed to myself because the entire thing seemed like a tourist trap, but now I can say I met the King. We then said our goodbyes and got on our way.
The Village and Voodoo “Black Magic”
Once we arrived in the childhood village of my dad’s friend and his cousin I really felt like I was in stereotypical Africa. - it was very cool. I was amazed that I was actually standing in the streets of this remote village were my dad’s friend had grown up. We ate some fried yams and fritters which consists of fried balls of beans. Surprisingly it was really good, or maybe I was just really hungry. After dinner we went to a traditional Voodoo ceremony. Apparently Togo and Benin are the Voodoo centers of the world and are the only places where Voodoo is still seriously practiced. Talk about odd. We arrived right in the middle of some ritual where a spirit man was dressed as a giant doll and was chasing people while snapping a whip at them. There were about 100 people total involved in the ritual. I didn’t see anybody actually get whipped but I was pretty freaked out. The giant spirit man started running toward the car with his whip so I jumped back in the car with my friends and we locked the door. Godfried then talked to the people involved in the ceremony and they agreed to let us watch the rest of the ceremony. The spirit man yelled random groans while the village people pounded on their drums and danced around. Apparently he was saying that we were welcome but who knows. In order to capture the moment I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. This caused a HUGE stir and the village people started running around in absolute pandemonium. The spirit man stopped moving and froze as soon as the flash went off and he ran out of the ceremony. After probably committing a major taboo, Godfried told us it was time to get out of there so we hurried to the car and drove away. The entire ritual was very surreal and a bit unnerving but at least I have a priceless picture of the giant Voodoo man-doll.
Thieves
After the ceremony we went back to the abandoned house where Godfried grew up and got ready for bed. He rolled out a thin straw mat on the hard cement and said make yourselves comfortable. Needless to say, I did not sleep too well on the cement porch outside the house but it’s all part of the experience. We might have slept for about 2 hours before we awoke to Godfried screaming something in French into the darkness. I asked if everything was ok and he replied that we had just been robbed. Somehow a burglar snuck by our heads and walked the house and stole Godfrieds briefcase and my friend Helen’s purse. Somehow the burglar didn’t think to steal my backpack which was the only item left in the room. I am so so lucky he didn’t steal the backpack because it had my passport, ipod, and mom’s camera with all my pictures on it. Everybody was a bit on edge so we couldn’t go back to sleep. Godfried contacted the town enforcer (similar to a sheriff) which was a man wearing only a toga like robe who came and checked out the scene. Before long there were about 20 townspeople all searching around for the thief and the stolen goods. At about 7am Godfried woke Helen and myself and told us to follow him. We walked into the vacant field and found the stolen purse and briefcase. Amazingly nothing was stolen/ not even a single cent. Godfried thought the robber realized he had stolen from one of his fellow townspeople and was overwhelmed with guilt so decided not to steel anything.
Pythons
The next day (Saturday) we drove back to the main city but dropped by a “Voodoo spiritual lake” and a Voodoo python sanctuary. It was actually pretty funny, once we arrived to the lake Godfried said, “looks like just a lake to me.” The python sanctuary was pretty cool. We walked into the small circular hut which contained at least 500 drugged out/ barely moving pythons. We took a bunch of pictures holding the pythons and continued on our way. Exhausted from the lack of sleep the previous night we took Godfried to dinner and called it a night.
Trip back to the University of Ghana.
Leaving the Benin border was a ridiculous hastle. We all had expired visas by about 12 hours so the border patrol did not want to let us pass. We literally stood there and watched people walk by and bribe the patrol man with cigarettes and money in order to cross with no visas but since we were white they wanted us to pay a hefty fine because he said “we have the money.” After refusing to pay the fine for about 45 minutes and pleading with him that we were poor students at the University of Ghana the main honcho came over and let us pass. Only in Africa can you beg your way through border security. Anyway, once in Togo we hopped on a motorcycle taxi and taxied through an entire nation. It sounds much more hard core than it really is – the nation it only took about 90 minutes to get all the way across. After my first good lunch(hamburger) in Africa, we continued all the way back to the university.
Closing remarks
I am starting to think about the United States quite often now. I miss my family, friends and food. Yes the three “F”s. I always feel like I am on the verge of getting sick but have somehow been able to stay relatively healthy. One of my best friends on the trip just got diagnosed with malaria yesterday and people seem to be dropping like flies. We now have about 10-12 confirmed cases of malaria out of about 30 people. I find myself saying its all part of the experience quite often. I am getting pretty skinny on my chicken, rice, plantain, and pineapple diet and am getting in pretty good shape simply by walking 35 minutes to every class. You have no idea how much I miss just one bite of sushi or In-N-Out burger! It makes me frustrated just to think about all the good food I miss so much. The weather here is now turning the rainy season which really means humid and dusty season. You would think after 3 months here I would be used to the heat, but it is still a great challenge. Looking back on all the experiences I have had in a relatively short time is quite amazing. I have done more in Africa than I ever thought was possible… it is now time to start really getting focused on school and start preparing for the finals.. I thank you all so much for taking time out of your day to read my blog. Hope to talk with you all soon. Please continue to send me e-mails and messages/comments on facebook – I look forward to hearing from everybody back home (I check the internet about twice a week electricity permitting).
Best,
Jason
One of my Ghanaian friends at the University invited me to a bonfire where there was high school reunion. Thinking that I was going to roast marshmallows and s'mores on the beach, I was pretty excited. But as you may have gathered from the rest of my blog entries, nothing here is normal or expected. We drove about 10 minutes from campus into this woods area. As we pulled up there were about 600 Ghanaian students in a line carrying torches, marching, and singing some song in their local language. Once they got about 50 feet from the fire they chucked their torch high in the air toward the bonfire and added to the 20ft flames. It was really cool, but at the same time everything in me was saying that I probably shouldn’t be there. The entire event sort of reminded me of those movies where the village people chase out the outsider with pitchforks and torches. Sort of like a reverse KKK ceremony but I decided I was safe enough so we hung around. I had never felt more out of place in my life, even counting my African dance class. There were about 600 or more Ghanaian people and one token white person- me. I felt like a celebrity as people took pictures with me and wanted to shake my hand as I walked by. Never a dull moment...
Dog Incident (WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE ANGRY AND SAD OR ARE UNDER 16 years old)
On a more dark and sullen note one of my friends witnessed the killing of a dog outside our dorms. I contemplated adding this to the blog because it is so evil – but I wanted this blog to be as true to my experience as possible. Apparently a man picked up a dog by the tail and flung it around and hit the poor dog's face against the cement. To silence the yelping animal the man then kicked the dog against a light post. The man then bagged the yelping dog and calmly walked away. I was really really upset after I heard of the incident and asked my Ghanaian roommate if that was normal. He told me that sometimes the more poor people up north eat dog in order to stay alive but had never seen such thing at the University. I suppose I’m being ethnocentric or biased but I feel no animal no matter what culture should be tortured the way this poor dog was. I have to face the fact I am in a different culture here, but I feel that you reach a point where some things are just wrong…… On a brighter note, the rest of this blog entry is about my trip to Benin!!!
TRIP TO BENIN
Yet another amazing weekend traveling around West Africa with some of my California friends (John, Helen, and Brit). In a span of 9 hours I managed to cross three African nations and ended up in Benin. The journey to Benin was a little ridiculous to say the least, but my adventures are definitely memorable. Prior to leaving Ghana my dad got in contact with one of his friends in the United States who actually grew up in a village in Benin. My dad’s friend knows the Princess of Benin and was good friends with the cousin of the princess named Godfried whom was our contact once we were to arrive in Benin. We had absolutely no idea what to expect on our journey. We didn’t know if we would be staying in a palace, get to meet the king, or how in the world we would even be able to meet Godfried once in Benin because our Ghanaian phones don’t work across the border. Anyway, nothing is wrong with a little adventure so we assumed the risks end embarked on a weekend we won’t soon forget.
Journey to Togo Border
First of all, the trip began by a group of Ghanaians pushing our bus down the road in hopes that would jump-start our stubborn bus engine. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of our journey to Benin. It was surprisingly similar that scene in Little Miss Sunshine. The scenery from Ghana to Togo was similar to the I5 in California but with skinnier cows on the roadside. Anyway, once we got to the Ghanaian border I was questioned by one of the Togo border police as to what I was studying at the University of Ghana. After I replied, “political science” the policeman shouted something in Twi (one of the local languages) and about 6 or 7 border military patrol surrounded me with AK47s all shouting at once. My heart pounded because my friends had already walked through the border and were waiting for me at the other side while I was alone, being interrogated. I had NO idea what was going on! Finally I understood one man who yelled, “Why are you studying political science? Why do you want to go to Togo? Are you studying human rights?” What exactly do you study in political science?” My voice was shaky as I replied that I was not studying human rights and that I am International Relations major. I explained that I was only traveling through Togo to get to Benin for visiting purposes and promised I was not there for any political matters. After about 7 minutes of further questioning, the Togo border patrol finally agreed to let me pass. On the drive through Togo I thought a lot about what happened at the border and it sort of made me nervous as to why they were inquiring if I was there to study human rights. That makes me think there was something to hide.
Journey to Benin Border
The adventures did not stop at the Ghana/Togo border. About half-way through Togo the brakes on our bus gave out and we hit the center divider after barely missing two other cars. John, Helen, Brit and I were all pretty freaked out but the driver was laughing. We asked the driver if it was safe to stay on the bus and he replied, “Yea there shouldn’t be any more problems and winked at us. So ensuring right? Since the bus could no longer stop or slow down we literally drove about 6mph across the rest of the nation of Togo and into Benin. The scenery of Togo was a stark contrast to Ghana. The coast was quite similar to that of Hawaii with beautiful white sand beaches and tropical forests inland. At the Benin border some people starting pounding on our slow moving bus so we asked the driver what was going on. He calmly replied they are probably just criminals so refrain from opening the doors. We all looked at each other and thought “only in Africa would somebody say don’t worry they are just criminals.” Looking back on it, the fact I was interrogated, the brakes went out on the bus, and criminals pounded on the bus to get in just seemed fitting. I have grown to expect the unexpected. We had another big hassle at the border between Togo and Benin because we did not buy visas prior because we were told we buy them at the border. After about 45 minutes of arguing (they only speak French mind you) we finally convinced the border patrol to give us a 48 hour temporary visa. So once in Benin we called Godfried (the cousin of the princess) from one of the border patrol’s cell phones.
Our Stay In Benin
Godfried picked us up in front of the Benin soccer stadium and took us back to his house. I swear, Godfried has to be the kindest African man I have ever met. Once we got to his house he had already prepared a traditional Benin dish for us and brought out a bunch of drinks. Even though we were complete strangers he treated us as royalty, such a good guy. We pleaded with him to let us pay for the food and gas but told us to save our money.
The next day (Friday) Godfried picked us up bright and early and drove us through the main city and then about 5 hours to a small and remote village where he and my dad’s friend grew up as children. Since Benin was a French colony until the 1960's they were heavily influenced by French culture. Traveling from English Ghana to French Benin was like traveling to Europe. We found ourselves in a land of baguettes, cheese, French top hats and pastries. The nation reminded me of when I traveled to France when I was in high school, the similarities were quite shocking. Even the Africans looked French. Weird huh?. To my surprise there were little to no cars, just thousands of motorbikes crowding the streets. Even the taxis were all motorbikes. In the city, the smog from all the motorbikes was almost unbearable and the visibility low.
Meeting the King of Benin
On the way to the village we stopped at the Palace of the King and paid about $2 to meet the guy. Im pretty sure he was just a tourist attraction but I was determined to meet the King. Tensions were high at the palace because apparently there had been some sort of conflict with a rival king a week prior but Godfried convinced the guards to let us in. Anyway, the guards briefed us on how we were supposed to greet the king. He said that we must, “Take off our shoes and go down on our knees and bow down touching our heads to the dirt twice then proceed toward the king about 5 steps and repeat the same process and wait until the King addresses us.” The King looked exactly like Jaba the Hud, about 400lbs and just sort of sat there with a ceremonial nose jewelry covering a strip of his face. To both sides of the King sat two of his several wives whom handed him food and drink while he continued to just sit there. The King said in French, “Hello and welcome to Africa.” I laughed to myself because the entire thing seemed like a tourist trap, but now I can say I met the King. We then said our goodbyes and got on our way.
The Village and Voodoo “Black Magic”
Once we arrived in the childhood village of my dad’s friend and his cousin I really felt like I was in stereotypical Africa. - it was very cool. I was amazed that I was actually standing in the streets of this remote village were my dad’s friend had grown up. We ate some fried yams and fritters which consists of fried balls of beans. Surprisingly it was really good, or maybe I was just really hungry. After dinner we went to a traditional Voodoo ceremony. Apparently Togo and Benin are the Voodoo centers of the world and are the only places where Voodoo is still seriously practiced. Talk about odd. We arrived right in the middle of some ritual where a spirit man was dressed as a giant doll and was chasing people while snapping a whip at them. There were about 100 people total involved in the ritual. I didn’t see anybody actually get whipped but I was pretty freaked out. The giant spirit man started running toward the car with his whip so I jumped back in the car with my friends and we locked the door. Godfried then talked to the people involved in the ceremony and they agreed to let us watch the rest of the ceremony. The spirit man yelled random groans while the village people pounded on their drums and danced around. Apparently he was saying that we were welcome but who knows. In order to capture the moment I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. This caused a HUGE stir and the village people started running around in absolute pandemonium. The spirit man stopped moving and froze as soon as the flash went off and he ran out of the ceremony. After probably committing a major taboo, Godfried told us it was time to get out of there so we hurried to the car and drove away. The entire ritual was very surreal and a bit unnerving but at least I have a priceless picture of the giant Voodoo man-doll.
Thieves
After the ceremony we went back to the abandoned house where Godfried grew up and got ready for bed. He rolled out a thin straw mat on the hard cement and said make yourselves comfortable. Needless to say, I did not sleep too well on the cement porch outside the house but it’s all part of the experience. We might have slept for about 2 hours before we awoke to Godfried screaming something in French into the darkness. I asked if everything was ok and he replied that we had just been robbed. Somehow a burglar snuck by our heads and walked the house and stole Godfrieds briefcase and my friend Helen’s purse. Somehow the burglar didn’t think to steal my backpack which was the only item left in the room. I am so so lucky he didn’t steal the backpack because it had my passport, ipod, and mom’s camera with all my pictures on it. Everybody was a bit on edge so we couldn’t go back to sleep. Godfried contacted the town enforcer (similar to a sheriff) which was a man wearing only a toga like robe who came and checked out the scene. Before long there were about 20 townspeople all searching around for the thief and the stolen goods. At about 7am Godfried woke Helen and myself and told us to follow him. We walked into the vacant field and found the stolen purse and briefcase. Amazingly nothing was stolen/ not even a single cent. Godfried thought the robber realized he had stolen from one of his fellow townspeople and was overwhelmed with guilt so decided not to steel anything.
Pythons
The next day (Saturday) we drove back to the main city but dropped by a “Voodoo spiritual lake” and a Voodoo python sanctuary. It was actually pretty funny, once we arrived to the lake Godfried said, “looks like just a lake to me.” The python sanctuary was pretty cool. We walked into the small circular hut which contained at least 500 drugged out/ barely moving pythons. We took a bunch of pictures holding the pythons and continued on our way. Exhausted from the lack of sleep the previous night we took Godfried to dinner and called it a night.
Trip back to the University of Ghana.
Leaving the Benin border was a ridiculous hastle. We all had expired visas by about 12 hours so the border patrol did not want to let us pass. We literally stood there and watched people walk by and bribe the patrol man with cigarettes and money in order to cross with no visas but since we were white they wanted us to pay a hefty fine because he said “we have the money.” After refusing to pay the fine for about 45 minutes and pleading with him that we were poor students at the University of Ghana the main honcho came over and let us pass. Only in Africa can you beg your way through border security. Anyway, once in Togo we hopped on a motorcycle taxi and taxied through an entire nation. It sounds much more hard core than it really is – the nation it only took about 90 minutes to get all the way across. After my first good lunch(hamburger) in Africa, we continued all the way back to the university.
Closing remarks
I am starting to think about the United States quite often now. I miss my family, friends and food. Yes the three “F”s. I always feel like I am on the verge of getting sick but have somehow been able to stay relatively healthy. One of my best friends on the trip just got diagnosed with malaria yesterday and people seem to be dropping like flies. We now have about 10-12 confirmed cases of malaria out of about 30 people. I find myself saying its all part of the experience quite often. I am getting pretty skinny on my chicken, rice, plantain, and pineapple diet and am getting in pretty good shape simply by walking 35 minutes to every class. You have no idea how much I miss just one bite of sushi or In-N-Out burger! It makes me frustrated just to think about all the good food I miss so much. The weather here is now turning the rainy season which really means humid and dusty season. You would think after 3 months here I would be used to the heat, but it is still a great challenge. Looking back on all the experiences I have had in a relatively short time is quite amazing. I have done more in Africa than I ever thought was possible… it is now time to start really getting focused on school and start preparing for the finals.. I thank you all so much for taking time out of your day to read my blog. Hope to talk with you all soon. Please continue to send me e-mails and messages/comments on facebook – I look forward to hearing from everybody back home (I check the internet about twice a week electricity permitting).
Best,
Jason
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