i'm tall and awkward looking...like a giraffe

Accra may be known for its nightlife, but that doesn’t mean it is on the same level as that of New York or London. Last night we went to Aphrodisiac (yes yes, I know, but the locals call it Aphro, so being pretty much a local I shall call it that). This place was supposed to be the biggest newest club in Accra, so I went thinking that we would probably not get in. We were able to walk right in (without paying, it was ladies night). It was supposed to be huge and with four rooms of dancing, so I was thinking we were headed to a superclub like Fabric in London. Four rooms of dancing meant one dance room with three lounges around it. There are also lots of prostitutes wherever you go out. (I don’t know if that’s appropriate to say because my grandmother reads this, but it is relevant, Grammie). They are just a part of the crowd when you go out, usually wearing something short and tight. And the experiences other nights have been mostly the same – it’s not that it’s bad; it’s just very different from what we’re used to.

Today we went back to Makola market – we were a big group of girls on a mission for fabric. The patterns and colors are so unique and so different from anything I’ve ever seen before. I honestly do not know how I will go back to regular shopping when I cannot design everything I’m wearing and have it handmade by the amazing seamstress Marjorie. Mom – for Christmas can I please just have Marjorie dresses? Her shop is across the street from one of the restaurants we have a meal plan for and everyday as soon as the van drops us off a group of seven or so girls will walk over to unload more fabric and sketches on her. We all tell her how much we love her and how much we want to be her best friend…and she’ll nod politely and move on to the next girls requests.

One of the girls here got her laptop stolen – their room was empty for only about two hours but somehow it got taken. If it had happened to me - I would’ve flipped on anyone nearby. SO SO SO creepy to think of someone walking around your bedroom and going through your stuff. The people at NYU handled it pretty well – security came over and for some wonderful reason they decided to review the tapes from the security camera in our living room. When I say security I mean like the head of the guy from our security company, his entourage, and our CRAs in our living room reviewing tapes. It was a scene from CSI/Law and Order and I desperately wanted to be involved. I definitely thought I was going to spot some intruder that they hadn’t noticed and cracked the case. It didn’t happen. I got sort of tired and needed to sleep so after about ten minutes I napped on the couch while they watched the tapes. Mystery still unsolved with that one, but everyone has become super paranoid about putting our valuables away and making sure all our locks work.

Pictures are the Black Star Square in Accra and the view from a house (house meaning open space on the street) which we invaded when we went on a tour with Uncle Nat, the former mayor of Ghana, who is also my teacher for Global Connections, which is going to be AMAZINGGG. This man took us to Jamestown, a very poor part of the city, had all of us get off our ridiculously large tour bus, and shuttled us into a house, assuring us that the people living there didn’t mind. Incredibly uncomfortable but, as you can see, the view was amazing.

 

 

i'll dance in circles, probably around you

I have this to say about the University of Ghana. I really really really really wanted to take a class there and be on campus and meet students and come back saying I loved it and felt like I belonged. I had an amazing experience at SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies) in London and I thought that it would be similar at a school in Accra. Plus there was the Dean of International Students big speech to us about how they have to educate everyone regardless of whether they have the budget/facilities/staff to do it adequately, and that to get a true experience, we should be taking a class there and not at Ashesi which has an expensive tuition and is really an African version of NYU. Her words not mine. She pretty much made everyone feel guilty enough to sign up for one or two classes. And so it began.

I had a list of about four classes I wanted to take – none of them were offered, I found a new class and it was full, registering for classes took hours, there was no one who knew when or where we could get our University of Ghana id cards. Many hours were wasted wandering the University of Ghana campus achieving nothing. And finally, Maggie and I found a class that we actually wanted to take, that was actually being offered, and that wasn’t full. Registering took only a few minutes, and the topic of the class, Politics of Developing Countries, sounded interesting.

We arrived at school, found the class easily, and took a seat – the lecture wasn’t that full and there were a lot of international students in the class. We had convinced Holley that this class would be worthwhile so she had come along as well. The professor arrived, welcomed us, and started his lecture...by opening what must have been a textbook and reading from a very dense and general introduction chapter. We were expected to copy what he was reading from a book into our own notebooks, and to make sure we got every word, sentences were repeated at least four times. There were no figures, facts, or examples, just general life advice such as ‘Change doesn’t happen on hopes alone’. This was the entire class. I did not come to to tire out my hand writing out pointless ‘knowledge’ such as this. After about twenty minute, we realized this man was not going to break away from this style and we stopped paying attention for the more important task of writing notes, reading books, and sketching dresses for Marjorie. Needless to say, this class was dropped. Also of note – when walking around the University of Ghana campus by yourself, perhaps it is not best to wear a short flowy dress. We may not have the hissing sound in Manhattan, but we do have the obnoxious kissy noise that a few at the University of Ghana have perfected.

This all sounds incredibly negative, so I would like to add that most of the people at University of Ghana have been incredibly friendly, it is a beautiful campus, and many people in the NYU program have found classes they really enjoyed. My bitterness at not being one of them is affecting my attitude towards the school.

Fast forward to today – we had our first experience at the mall here in Accra. On the inside it looked like any other mall in the States – the stores were all different but the basic layout was the same, even down to the food court. We did pass a phone store and realized that NYU had ripped us off by directly selling us the phone for five more cedis than it cost in the store. NOT COOL. More important than the mall was the small children who would run up to you as soon as you got out of your vehicle. They’d hold hands with you, or put their hand on your arm, looking adorable, but then you realized that they were holding their other hand out for money. Maggie walked hand in hand with a kid for a good part of our walk – it was precious. BUT these kids are ruthless – and some of them couldn’t have been more than two or three years old. It was sad, but I’m not going to lie, it was also sort of annoying. Which made me feel guilty. They are really not to blame, but a lot of these children have been taught persistence and would keep grabbing at us or following us even after we’d told them we weren’t giving them money.  Holley summed up the situation very gracefully after we paid for our groceries – “Now I have a heavy weight to hit the children with.”

we'll have to move at a trot

Things I Have Noticed in Accra:

1.    Things tend to…not work. We have a hot water heater for our shower - I’m sure you know where this is going. Pretty much it is a box that we turn on and it supposedly makes our showers hot. The other day while I was showering I was facing this box when the wires that go from the box into the wall where they do their electrical magic sparked, smoked, and stopped working. This was a week ago…it has still not been fixed. So instead of sucking it up and taking cold showers I walked to the other houses everyday and used theirs…except now I can’t because they have no water at all. The internet and air conditioning also tend to work on their own schedule, and when washing our clothes the sink will just turn on. It’s an interesting experience.
2.    Tall skinny white girls are not a hot commodity to African men. I thought that being an obvious ‘obruni’ would get me a lot of unwanted attention but actually we hardly ever get noticed because we travel with so many gorgeous girls who are not tall, gangly, and white. Going out in Accra has forced me to appreciate my own company because that is all that I’m getting. The exception to this rule is my roommate Maggie, who is tall skinny and white, but everyone absolutely loves her and falls in love with her. I don’t know her secret…but she gets all the boys. The rest of us usually end up talking to Rastas, Africa’s Best Street Dancers, or men who are far too old to be at the same places that we are.
3.    There are some people who will try and play on our naïveté. I expected this but it still surprises me. The other day I went into a store (store meaning a stand on the street) to buy shampoo. I asked for shampoo…I was handed body wash. When I pointed out that this is for your body she said, “Yes, it is body wash, but your hair is soft, you can use it on your head.”  It was also ridiculously overpriced. At this same place while I was being convinced that my hair is soft enough to use body wash in it my friend Holley was told that the Fanta she wanted to drink (which usually goes for about 50 pesewas – 30 cents) actually cost 1 cedi 25 pesewas. Needless to say we did not buy anything from this stand. 
4.    Ghanaians like to take their time…for everything. Coming from New York where everything is scheduled and everyone is always rushing, I was warned that Ghanaians are more laid back about when things start, arriving on time, etc. This caution has been proven true. When we’re told that we’re eating at 10:30 in the morning so we are leaving at 10:15, we will not actually leave until 10:30, arrive at 10:45, and then sit and wait until 11:30 for food to be served. This leads to a lot of standing around and a lot of sarcastic banter between Holley and I, which I think that only Holley and I enjoy.

Today we received our first custom made dress my Marjorie, who is amazing. Five cedis for the work and ten for the fabric and in three days I have my first Ghanaian dress. Pictures to follow.  Today was also my first class, which is taught by the former mayor of Accra, Uncle Nat, and lasted all of an hour. Strenuous day.

too much labadi love...please calm yourselves

We went to Labadi Beach today to mark our final day of orientation – our CRAs tried to convince us we actually wanted to go to the pool but most people were anxious to get to the beach. To set this scene correctly, some things need to be explained. First of all, we travel in either an enormous tour bus or a safari bus that has pictures of elephants on it. Secondly, we are a group of thirty mostly white students. Lastly, we look like we have no idea what is going on…because most of the time we don’t. So when we pull into the beach people selling things literally run to meet us as we get off the bus.

If I’ve learned anything from this week of orientation it is to never have any expectations or pretend to know what I think things are going to be like. Beach in New Hampshire does not translate to Beach in Accra. When I go to the beach I put in my headphones, read my magazine, and creepily check out and judge the people around me. At Labadi you cannot do this. It is that simple – there are always people approaching you to talk or to sell things, horse rides up and down the beach, a man holding a snake wrapped up in one hand (when I saw this I prepared myself to run as there is nothing more disgusting than that thing they try to call a reptile).  We paid five cedis to get in…I have no idea where that five cedis is going.

Awkward and uncomfortable moments are going to be frequent this semester...we have had far too many to detail them all. At the beach there were a bunch of performers, and one group was four men who were singing and drumming and had a young boy with them . When I say he was a performer I mean he was a performer. He was wearing a full black body suit with a colorful belt around it and a colorful striped hat on that looked like a swimming cap. This was not normal I am cute and will dance for you apparel – he was a trained professional. Because we are NYU moving in a group of thirty and love drawing attention to ourselves we attracted a lot of people singing and dancing, including this group. The boy, who was probably about seven, started doing acrobatic moves and cartwheels and flips, but then an older man, I don’t know if it was his father, started doing moves with him, boosting him into high flips and putting him on his head while the boy attempted to dance. It was entertaining, but whether this boy was doing this because he wanted to or had to made it uncomfortable to watch, especially when certain moves or tricks would make him grimace as if he were in pain or when he almost fell off the top of the man’s head and, like a pro, got his balance back while continuing to smile and dance. Afterwards they had collected the money the man would point at people who hadn’t given anything, including me, and the boy would run up asking if we had anything for him…then they moved about twenty feet down the beach and did the same thing.

When I was taking a picture with my friend a little boy, probably about seven, jumped into the photo and then hung around. This boy had style – I put down the Vanity Fair I was reading (Angelina Jolie was on the cover) and he immediately picked it up and started flipping through the pages. He and his brother would pause at certain pages and talk about them, but they scanned through the magazine fairly quickly, stood up, threw the magazine down on the towel, and summed it up with this – “Finished.” I almost felt like I was supposed to be entertaining them and doing a horrible job. The other people in our group were playing cards with the kids, sketching a portrait of a musician – one girl even spoke sign language with a child who was deaf. I sat and read a New York Magazine article on male models.

I am tired, classes start tomorrow, and I have officially been in Accra for a full week. What is my life. This all sounds incredibly negative so I will add on that I’m having an amazing time – the people here are great, our housing is amazing (I share a house, yes, an entire house, with four other people including my fantastic roommate Maggie and the multiple people who wander in and out everyday – Holley, I am talking about you), and I’m doing something different and something I’ve never done before everyday. BUT…I miss reliable internet and hot water. BUT Marjorie comes tomorrow with my dress.

even in ghana i still eat french fries for breakfast

I’m approaching the end of my first full week in Ghana…a week ago I was packing up my room and today I am sitting in my Ghanaian ‘sitting room’ with four new friends. Strange? Yes. Amazing? Even more so.  The past week has been a blur which I have let go undocumented…for a recap you can check out my friend Holley’s blog, http://holleywouldtoo.blogspot.com/ - she’s said everything I would but in a much more clever way, as she is a much more clever girl than I am.

Today we went to Makola Market in the city and our first priority was fabric – the women here dress so nicely and with such style that I am dying to imitate them and fail miserably while doing so. Walking down the street you could find everything and anything – almost all of us were able to find fabric to bring to Marjorie, NYU’s go-to dressmaker, but you could find electronics, clothes, shoes, jewelry. My roommate Maggie (who is fantastic and very nice) and I were able to get much needed laundry detergent, but Holley couldn’t find the fake blonde hair she had been looking for (I don’t think it is a popular request). We also experienced the Ghanaian ‘trend’ of hissing at people walking down the street to get their attention – it sounds like cats fighting and it’s very strange. I thought being foreigners and white that we would receive a lot more attention than we did – we only got one man who called out ‘Obruni, obruni!’ and he looked so joyful and happy saying it that I’m pretty sure I gave him a thumbs up as we passed. I was also approached by a man wanting to know my name – when I told him he responded with ‘Whitney? I love you. Give me your number I’ll call you anytime.’ (Don’t worry, mom, I didn’t give it to him) The market is crowded, it’s hot, and every so often a woman carrying a basket of fish will pass you a little too closely, but it is unlike any thing I have ever seen…I feel like I will be saying that a lot.

Another highlight, at least for me – yesterday we visited the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park. For those lacking knowledge of Ghana’s history, Kwame Nkrumah was the first president of Ghana played a huge role in Pan-Africanism. For those lacking knowledge of Pan-Africanism…seek Wikipedia because I do not have the time to explain that as well. The park had Nkrumah’s remains beneath this beautiful structure that has all this symbolic meaning behind it that I cannot adequetely describe - I was in awe. The museum had all of these photos of Nkrumah with prominent politicians – Fidel Castro and JFK and such. There was this amazing photo of Nkrumah and Patrice Lumumba (another needed Wikipedia entry) walking side by side.  For the Africana Studies nerd I am I was in heaven.

We just had our meeting with Marjorie and I am too excited thinking about my dress to continue writing. It will be done by Monday and btw, ONLY COST FIVE CEDIS.  Dear Ghana/Marjorie, I think I love you.