Hello! Kay here, writing from Kumasi, Ghana. We've been here for nine days so far, and it has been one of the most unique and different experiences I have ever had.
Some thoughts on race and being white in Ghana:
In Ghana whiteness is the exception not the rule. As my host brother Daniel said to me, "everyone in the united states is black-white-black-white. Here everyone is black. Everyone." Everywhere you go as a white person in Ghana you are stared at and treated with a kind of tenuous reverence. Many of the children have never seen a white person. Sometimes the very small children even cry and run away when they see us. Everyone here calls white people 'obruni', the Ghanaian term for white. Unlike similar epithets for races in the U.S., however, the term is not one of prejudice, but simply a statement of fact. As you walk down the street, everyone will shout 'obruni! bruni! white man!" to get your attention or solicit their wares. They mean no offense at all, which is a unique truth to get used to. I have come to value my difference here very much. The tables are turned on race in Ghana and being the minority race gives an amazing amount of perspective on racial differences everywhere in the world. In the United States, despite every integration effort, there are still evident rifts between blacks and whites- with whites being the overwhelming majority. Here, as in there, the stares of the people are more indicative of interest and curiosity than hostility. There are some people of an older generation who still mistrusst whites, but for the most part everyone is friendly and inviting- but curious.
That's all for now!
-Kay
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Giving a Face to Ghana--from Jennifer
I've often felt that we fear only what we have yet to see and know. The world seems such a big, dangerous place, and a word like "Africa" brings so many misconceptions and unknowns to mind that we hardly know how to imagine how we could survive its challenges or learn to love its people. But now Ghana has a face, the face of children in the schools where we work, the face of host families which do their best to bring us into their lives as best they can, the face of our beloved coordinators who do all they can to make this a good experience for all of us.
I know the girls have been challenged in these first few days of home stay and service work, but it has been consistently moving to watch them navigate those challenges and learn to let Ghana and its people into their hearts. When we finally arrived in Kumasi, after a very long drive from Accra on Monday, the host families were anxiously awaiting us at the meeting point. Each family greeted their new daughter with hugs and warmth, and I found myself weeping a little on the sidelines as I watched. The girls had been so afraid of this part of the experience, the biggest challenge of an Experiment trip, yet here were these real, warm people leading them out to their cars, holding their hands and calling them "daughter" already.
The first night was hard for many in the group. Many homes here don't have running water all the time, so many of us took bucket showers that first night and had to pour water into the toilets to make them flush. Some families have more English speakers, some have fewer, and some girls have had to navigate significant communication barriers. We are all gaining weight rapidly from the big meals, and many girls are still learning to find polite ways to cut back the size of their meals so they don't overeat. The food is delicious, though, so it's tempting to eat everything we are served. Tonight I had my first experience with kenken, a corn dough eaten with fish and a chili pepper and tomato sauce that was so good I ate about twice as much as I should have.
Our work in the schools has brought us into the heart of Ghana. I have been with Katie, Abbey, Kira, Emily and Kay at Martyrs of Uganda Jubilee School, an elementary school run by the FST Sisters, while Amber has been with Jill, Beth, Berenice, Ximena and Allie at Prince of Peace, a high school for girls. While Amber's group worked in classrooms the first day, they were able to convince the school to let them do some "real" service work by painting the front of the school building. It has been hard to convince the sisters at Jubilee School to let us do the same, so we have been relieving teachers and working in the classrooms. It has been a beautiful experience--the children are lovely and curious about us, and every child seems to need to touch us (I had a boy spend several minutes rubbing my arm today, apparently fascinated by the smoothness of my white skin).
One of my favorite moments was when a crowd of 5-6 year olds gathered behind Abbey, staring at her blonde ponytail. I encouraged them to touch it, telling them it was just hair, but they all stepped back farther like they were scared. So I stepped forward and touched her hair myself, smiling and encouraging them--and seconds later there were 30 hands reaching out to stroke her hair and giggling at how smooth it was. Kira's flower fairies went over so well that she quickly ran out of supplies, and when she took a soccer ball onto the field at lunch, she was immediately swarmed by students--so many that a game became impossible. My biggest challenge today was being asked to sing the U.S. national anthem and accidentally launching into "America the Beautiful" because I couldn't remember which song was which with 50 eager faces staring at me and giggling at my every error.
The children crowd around to see photos of our families, telling me how beautiful my mother and sister are, laughing when I imitate the way my cat Pablo follows me around the house, talking to me constantly. They call me Adua, meaning Monday born, but they also seem to like pronouncing Jennifer. Hands reach out, children press in, curious. The color of skin becomes a fascination, and Emily and I agreed that it's really different to be in a place where race isn't a taboo to avoid but a basic reality it's ok to talk about and be curious about. Even my host sister and I compared our skin at dinner tonight, touching each other and trying to decide if my skin really was smoother than hers somehow. Everywhere we go they call us "obruni," or white person, but it's not even slightly derogatory--it's just a statement of fact.
This is the face of Ghana: the face of its children, its kind, warm people. And I am proud of how well the girls are letting themselves embrace this experience already, of how quickly they're becoming flexible travelers and are letting Ghana into their hearts.
I know the girls have been challenged in these first few days of home stay and service work, but it has been consistently moving to watch them navigate those challenges and learn to let Ghana and its people into their hearts. When we finally arrived in Kumasi, after a very long drive from Accra on Monday, the host families were anxiously awaiting us at the meeting point. Each family greeted their new daughter with hugs and warmth, and I found myself weeping a little on the sidelines as I watched. The girls had been so afraid of this part of the experience, the biggest challenge of an Experiment trip, yet here were these real, warm people leading them out to their cars, holding their hands and calling them "daughter" already.
The first night was hard for many in the group. Many homes here don't have running water all the time, so many of us took bucket showers that first night and had to pour water into the toilets to make them flush. Some families have more English speakers, some have fewer, and some girls have had to navigate significant communication barriers. We are all gaining weight rapidly from the big meals, and many girls are still learning to find polite ways to cut back the size of their meals so they don't overeat. The food is delicious, though, so it's tempting to eat everything we are served. Tonight I had my first experience with kenken, a corn dough eaten with fish and a chili pepper and tomato sauce that was so good I ate about twice as much as I should have.
Our work in the schools has brought us into the heart of Ghana. I have been with Katie, Abbey, Kira, Emily and Kay at Martyrs of Uganda Jubilee School, an elementary school run by the FST Sisters, while Amber has been with Jill, Beth, Berenice, Ximena and Allie at Prince of Peace, a high school for girls. While Amber's group worked in classrooms the first day, they were able to convince the school to let them do some "real" service work by painting the front of the school building. It has been hard to convince the sisters at Jubilee School to let us do the same, so we have been relieving teachers and working in the classrooms. It has been a beautiful experience--the children are lovely and curious about us, and every child seems to need to touch us (I had a boy spend several minutes rubbing my arm today, apparently fascinated by the smoothness of my white skin).
One of my favorite moments was when a crowd of 5-6 year olds gathered behind Abbey, staring at her blonde ponytail. I encouraged them to touch it, telling them it was just hair, but they all stepped back farther like they were scared. So I stepped forward and touched her hair myself, smiling and encouraging them--and seconds later there were 30 hands reaching out to stroke her hair and giggling at how smooth it was. Kira's flower fairies went over so well that she quickly ran out of supplies, and when she took a soccer ball onto the field at lunch, she was immediately swarmed by students--so many that a game became impossible. My biggest challenge today was being asked to sing the U.S. national anthem and accidentally launching into "America the Beautiful" because I couldn't remember which song was which with 50 eager faces staring at me and giggling at my every error.
The children crowd around to see photos of our families, telling me how beautiful my mother and sister are, laughing when I imitate the way my cat Pablo follows me around the house, talking to me constantly. They call me Adua, meaning Monday born, but they also seem to like pronouncing Jennifer. Hands reach out, children press in, curious. The color of skin becomes a fascination, and Emily and I agreed that it's really different to be in a place where race isn't a taboo to avoid but a basic reality it's ok to talk about and be curious about. Even my host sister and I compared our skin at dinner tonight, touching each other and trying to decide if my skin really was smoother than hers somehow. Everywhere we go they call us "obruni," or white person, but it's not even slightly derogatory--it's just a statement of fact.
This is the face of Ghana: the face of its children, its kind, warm people. And I am proud of how well the girls are letting themselves embrace this experience already, of how quickly they're becoming flexible travelers and are letting Ghana into their hearts.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Katie and Abbey - The First Days
Hey, everyone! It's Katie and Abbey. We have internet access for the first time, so we thought we'd share some of our experiences on the plane and in Accra so far.
The flight from JFK to London went well. The flight from London to Accra, however, was much more interesting. When we'd gotten on the airplane and sat down, we heard screaming and a big commotion in the back of the plane. At first we thought it was a child afraid to fly or something, but we turned around to find an adult man sitting between two white, official-looking men. When he tried to stand up, they restrained him, and we were shocked to notice that he had handcuffs on. The screaming continued, and every so often he stopped to yell things like "Help me!" and "Please, I don't want to fly! Please let me off the aeroplane!" Rumors started circulating like wildfire, but soon the flight attendants came around and told us the real story. As it turns out, this was an "immigration removal"--he was an illegal Ghanaian immigrant who was being returned by force to Ghana, and the two men with him were immigration officers. We were witnessing a deportation. The flight attendants explained that they didn't want to "let him win" by taking him off the plane, so we were just going to have to endure the screaming. We were all wondering what could have caused him to be so horrified at the thought of going back--was he a fugitive from the law or something of that nature? We later were told another possible explanation: when Ghanaian men have gotten an education (or even sometimes if they haven't), they are then expected by their families to go away and send money home if the family is struggling. This is particularly the case for the eldest son. Returning home without having succeeded often results in shunning by the family, and a deep sense of shame, as providing for one's family is seen as the most basic of obligations. We thought it was very likely that this was the case, as they probably wouldn't have transported a criminal with civilian passengers. As we waited (there was an hour-long departure delay), the screams became quieter and almost mindless. It must drive one mad, to know that you are going home to be ostracized and humiliated, and to not even be able to resist. Is there anything more spirit-breaking?
That night, we were picked up by our Ghanaian guide, Wendy, who took us to the International Hostel at the University of Ghana, where we'd be staying while we were in Accra. Wendy's a wonderful guide, and she will be with us for the duration of our trip. The next morning Kwame, the EIL director/coordinator in Ghana, gave us some basic lessons in Twi, the most prevalent local language in the Accra and Kumasi regions of Ghana. We learned such things as "Agoo," which means "Excuse me" or "Please shut up," and "Medasi," or "Thank you." Kwame wanted to take us to the market, so he also taught us things like "Aheh?" ("How much?") and "Me to bi" ("I want to buy some"). Then we split into three groups and each went to a different market in search of a certain local item Kwame had assigned us (he refused to tell us the names in English, because he said that would be cheating). The two of us were with Kira and Jennifer, and we were sent to get pepre. We rode a trotro (a van used for public transportation) to Makola, an open-air market. When we asked someone where to find pepre, she pointed us to an table where two women were selling small red and green peppers. We haggled with them, which was a novel experience for most of us, but one that was both exciting and necessary--we'd been warned that since we're obruni, or white people, everyone would try to overcharge us. We arrived at 80 pesewas (about 52 cents) for a small bag of red peppers. What we didn't realize until we got back, however, is that she and the sellers must have misunderstood us - turns out pepe is pepper, while pepre is a small black stick of spice often used in medicine. We all laughed about that one!
Anyway, more about the market... It was truly amazing. There were hundreds of people selling thousands of different items: whole fish, live crabs and gigantic snails, and pigs feet were mixed in with toothbrushes and toilet paper, bolts of cloth, shoes, jewelry, and what seemed like a billion other things. Yells of "Obruni!" and "Come" followed us through the market. We both bought handkerchiefs to carry around for drying our hands, and each of us bought a roll of toilet paper (the bathrooms have neither hand towels nor toilet paper). Jennifer treated us to coconut milk, which we drank straight from coconuts that the seller cut open with a machete. Delicious! Katie also bought an African dress for 3 cedis and 50 pesewas (the equivalent of about $2.50; there are 100 pesewas to a cedi and the exchange rate is currently 1.459 cedis to one US dollar). We were astonished at how inexpensive that and everything else was--even the price before haggling was much, much lower than the same item in the US. We were sad when we had to leave to meet the rest of the group, but luckily, there are plenty of markets in Kumasi that we plan to visit with our host families!
We'll leave some of our experiences since then for other girls to write about, but we wanted to put a quick update in (we started writing this a couple of days ago but then had to save it and weren't able to get on the Internet again until now). We got to Kumasi safely last night after a 5-6 hour bus ride, and we each went off with our respective host families, who are wonderful. Today was our first day of volunteering in the schools, which are also great--but we'll leave that for another day. Goodbye for now! We look forward to telling you about our experiences in person when we get back!
That night, we were picked up by our Ghanaian guide, Wendy, who took us to the International Hostel at the University of Ghana, where we'd be staying while we were in Accra. Wendy's a wonderful guide, and she will be with us for the duration of our trip. The next morning Kwame, the EIL director/coordinator in Ghana, gave us some basic lessons in Twi, the most prevalent local language in the Accra and Kumasi regions of Ghana. We learned such things as "Agoo," which means "Excuse me" or "Please shut up," and "Medasi," or "Thank you." Kwame wanted to take us to the market, so he also taught us things like "Aheh?" ("How much?") and "Me to bi" ("I want to buy some"). Then we split into three groups and each went to a different market in search of a certain local item Kwame had assigned us (he refused to tell us the names in English, because he said that would be cheating). The two of us were with Kira and Jennifer, and we were sent to get pepre. We rode a trotro (a van used for public transportation) to Makola, an open-air market. When we asked someone where to find pepre, she pointed us to an table where two women were selling small red and green peppers. We haggled with them, which was a novel experience for most of us, but one that was both exciting and necessary--we'd been warned that since we're obruni, or white people, everyone would try to overcharge us. We arrived at 80 pesewas (about 52 cents) for a small bag of red peppers. What we didn't realize until we got back, however, is that she and the sellers must have misunderstood us - turns out pepe is pepper, while pepre is a small black stick of spice often used in medicine. We all laughed about that one!
Anyway, more about the market... It was truly amazing. There were hundreds of people selling thousands of different items: whole fish, live crabs and gigantic snails, and pigs feet were mixed in with toothbrushes and toilet paper, bolts of cloth, shoes, jewelry, and what seemed like a billion other things. Yells of "Obruni!" and "Come" followed us through the market. We both bought handkerchiefs to carry around for drying our hands, and each of us bought a roll of toilet paper (the bathrooms have neither hand towels nor toilet paper). Jennifer treated us to coconut milk, which we drank straight from coconuts that the seller cut open with a machete. Delicious! Katie also bought an African dress for 3 cedis and 50 pesewas (the equivalent of about $2.50; there are 100 pesewas to a cedi and the exchange rate is currently 1.459 cedis to one US dollar). We were astonished at how inexpensive that and everything else was--even the price before haggling was much, much lower than the same item in the US. We were sad when we had to leave to meet the rest of the group, but luckily, there are plenty of markets in Kumasi that we plan to visit with our host families!
We'll leave some of our experiences since then for other girls to write about, but we wanted to put a quick update in (we started writing this a couple of days ago but then had to save it and weren't able to get on the Internet again until now). We got to Kumasi safely last night after a 5-6 hour bus ride, and we each went off with our respective host families, who are wonderful. Today was our first day of volunteering in the schools, which are also great--but we'll leave that for another day. Goodbye for now! We look forward to telling you about our experiences in person when we get back!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Departure Meeting, June 16
Sister Veronica and Sister Emily from Ghana, meeting with the group in Denver before departure.
Our out-of-town participants took part in the discussion via live video conference, and the Sisters handled the cameras, mic and spotlight like movie stars.
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