On Route Part Two

So there must be some sort of elderly travel group on my plane. It's filled to the brim with old white folk. This is especially hysterical when it comes to the bathroom line and the laps they are all doing around the plane. I was waiting in line for the toilet while the old man behind me was doing what many of us have come to recognize as the "wee-wee dance." I kindly told him to please go before me. Then there are the old women who are walking laps around the plane. It reminds me of the old women in my high school who changed into their Rebok's to do laps around the school during their lunch break. I can't stop thinking about Ghanaian babies. Hearing them cry out whenever they see you, "HELO! HELO! HELO!" I want to make sure I write down all the nursery rhymes they sang at Street Girls. I'll miss all the music in Ghana. I can't stop listening to the few songs I was able to download while in Ghana, and I can't wait to go home and search until I have all the classics I love. It's so strange to think that I won't be able to just break out singing and dancing at any point anymore (at least without someone thinking I've lost it). Just yesterday I was in Kineshi, dancing in stalls, singing every song on the radio as Ghanaian women yelled in shock that I could move my butt AND knew lyrics to Ghanaian songs. (Please note: As I write this the ladies are doing another lap.)

On Route Part One

---I am sitting in the airport waiting for my 11:45 flight to JFK through Cairo. I am listening to "World Trade Center" by 4x4, lyrics: "Go go go, big booty girl...never underestimate my lover, she's got the world trade center, the twin towers to match her booty." It already smells, looks, and feels like America, although the plantain chips I just finished are offering some Ghanian comfort. Kokoto International Airport looks like any other- bright airport lights, recycled air, rolling wheels. Airports are like little pods, there's no sense of time, place, personality, everything is so stale. Yuck. On an equally yucky note, I am going to America. My emotions are.... Hmm... When learning about emigration in Pan-Africanism we learned about the "push-pull" theory. In order for a group to migrate there needs to be negative aspects of their current country that cause them to look elsewhere to live. Yet they'll never leave unless there is another location offered with factors that lure them into that country. I can't really use this theory myself, as whether or not I want to, I am migrating. But its what I base my emotions off of. Ghana's heat, hawking, repetitive chicken and rice dinners, and lack of structure are shoving me out the door. America's food, availability (of food, transportation, communication, anything), customer service, and my family and my girls are calling to me.
---But this doesn't take into account the rebuttal to the "push-pull" theory. Ghana's food, culture, people, environment, music, babies (oh the babies!!) are all screaming at me to get out of this terrible airport and back into their arms. Even the thought of America nauseates me with its lonely society, unappreciative people, and uninspiring atmosphere. I know I'll slip back into American culture easily, but I just don't want to. I love Ghanaian way of life, and its taught me so much. To slow down, to be patient and appreciative, to learn from and talk to everyone I can. I can't begin to try to explain everything I've learned here, and what I'll take back with me. All I can say is that when I am back on U.S. soil I am going to try my hardest to keep the change that Ghana has inspired in me.

My last Day in Ghana

I woke up and headed to Kineshi market, a three-story warehouse filled with everything and anything you could need. I walked around talking to everyone I could, singing and dancing in their stalls while I browsed the fabric selection. I played with a baby named Adom I've met a few times, an adorable two year old girl who loves to be held and play with your face. Her favorite being the, "I've-got-your-nose" game (my eye is currently suffering from a nice scratch straight across my lid cause we got a little too excited). I had a long talk with a man named Kofi who was trying to tell me what a pitiful country Ghana was, and how America is the only dignified country in the world. I was so sad to hear him talk like this, and as he tried to "explain" America to me, I tried to explain Ghana to him. "But this place is ugly! There is nothing pretty here, only smoke and garbage," he told me. "Have you been to Lake Volta? The mosques in the North? That's beauty. America also has trash, and garbage, and factories. I wish I could show you Newark." We parted ways agreeing to disagree. I spent the next few minutes saying goodbye to the city before heading on my last tro-tro ride back to my house. I ran some last minute errands, saying goodbye to friends, picking up dresses, throwing in my last load of laundry, before heading to the airport at 7:00.

Goodbye to Baby

I had my last day of volunteering on Friday. I spent the most time there that I ever had, and it was one of my favorite times. The kids were all there, and were somehow on their best behavior. The fights were few, no bleeding whatsoever, and only a couple full-day criers. I played with Baby (my favorite kid at Street Girls) for a lot of the day, and made sure to hold him as often as I could. I broke out my camera for a while, a dangerous move but I got some really great shots, and my camera made it out alive. At the end of the day me and Baby parted ways, me sitting on the stoop, while he walked away waving and saying, "Bye bye!!" I was a puddle. As I walked out of the courtyard I couldn't help but wonder what these kids lives would be like. Would they get an education? Would they remember me? Would they end up working the streets just like their mothers? Would they get into trouble? I couldn't stop thinking about their future. I don't think I'll ever stop imagining Baby and what'll happen to him. I am only happy that I can think of him, and look at my pictures, and remember all our smiles.

An Obruni at Home

Today I ran around running some errands and eating all the Ghanian food I knew I would miss (fried plantains, jollof rice). I brought an instrument around with me to keep me entertained on all my walking. They are two small balls connected by a rope, and inside are tiny seeds, so you can shake and spin them to make music. I walked past the school letting out and a boy called me over. He took my shakers (I never found out their true Ghanian name) and taught me tons of new moves and beats to create. I sat with him for a little as he tutored me and I fruitlessly tried to imitate his music making. It was something that is so commonplace in Ghana and something I've learned to appreciate so much. Everyone's willingness to stop and chat, and help, and teach each other. It really goes back to Ghana's value in community and family. Even though I was an obruni (foreigner) and am treated so differently than Ghanaians, I still feel part of a community in Ghana.

"They Try to Hard"

The other day I was discussing with my friend how we felt about going home. She said she wasn't coming back to Ghana, she had enjoyed her time, and would be willing to stay for another 2 weeks or so, but after that be done with Ghana. She said it was a country that tried too hard. I couldn't get this phrase out of my head. "They try too hard." It's true. Ghana tries desperately to Westernize itself, not realizing that modernization does not equal westernization. They still have a confused sense of themselves and their personality. They're still digging through their past and trying to separate what is colonial habit and what is African culture, and then what beliefs and practices should be kept and what should be abandoned. I agree that this is something Ghana needs to work on. They're still suffering under the colonial self-depricating idea that was forced upon them. Yet I think their effort is remarkably admirable. Despite their history they are continually trying to better themselves. They might not be going about it well, but they are going about it. They're being pro-active. And as my parents always told me, You always get an A for effort.

Just To Let You Know

Doing work here is impossible. I have 3 final papers to edit and finish, and I just can't seem to do it. I have today and Sunday to finish everything, and I just can't seem to find the care in the world to do it. Don't worry Mama, they'll get done, its just seemingly impossible. My roommate Ava also has finals to worry about. She just asked me for thread so she can braid shells into her hair to match the rastas of Ghana. My roommates Sophie and Sara also have finals to finish, they're at the market, and then they're getting lunch. And the entire house next door is outside tanning.
Today I went to Street Girls to Volunteer in the morning. Then I went to the market to get lunch (bean stew and rice, sooo delicious), showered and watched an episode of Law and Order SVU. Now I think I'll edit one paper, read Fear and Loathing, and then maybe go to the beach? Tomorrow I am hoping to head off to Winneba for an annual festival.
Finals? Nahhhhhhhh.