My Homestay Experience...

---So I had a homestay. I knew that expectations were a dangerous thing to have, so I made sure the only thing I was expecting was a family. Who knew if I would have water, electricity, dogs with rabbies, it could be anything, so I let my brain only expect a family. SImple as that. Well it turns out such was too high an expectation. I, along with my friend Liz, were placed with Denise. Denise was a 40 something year old single man. He picked us up from the bus stop in his Mercedes Benz and took us into the compound his mansion was in. As we walked into the house we asked Denise to tell us about himself. "Well," he immediately replied, "I am looking for a nice young woman to marry so I can go to America." I knew from that moment I should worry. We sat down on his leather couches and told him a little about ourselves. He asked if we knew any Twi, the local language, and we said we did know a little. He said, "Let me teach you some. Let me teach you for the word for come. What is the English word for what you use to hold those luscious tits in?" Bra. The Twi word for come is bra. I almost started to cry when he showed me our room and I saw there was no lock on the door. I don't like to think back to that house, so let me quickly and briefly tell what I learned from my homestay. The rich are all about show, appearance, how people perceive of them. When uncomfortable in an elite home, make friends with the house help (Denise had five house help for himself and his brother). I dont know. It sucked, I didn't learn alot, and I will never go to their town again. I will do a homestay again in March, and I know it will be better than my first experience. Ghanians are the friendliest, happiest people I have ever met, and I refuse to let Denise and his creep show deter me from making a great relationship with a great family for a weekend.