lost in africa and other adventures by leah moriarty

Yesterday, I travelled downtown to the post office to pick up the package that my lovely mother and father sent me with board games and snacks filled with the preservatives and artificial cheese I have been craving for the past two months.

I arrive at the post office which did not have a sign outside, obviously, but thanks to the wonderful Ghanaians around me I finally figured it out and got in line.

The woman I handed my package slip to looked at it and asked if it was from my mother or my fiance.  I explained that I study to hard to have a fiance and she told me that is good.  Then she proceeded to ask me if I “play with boys” and pointed to her chest, getting a little bit to personal for me, I just replied that I study to hard for that too. She said that is good so I figured I had the correct answer.

Once I received the package shehad me open it for her, and she saw that I had scrabble in it. She had never seen this game before so she made me open scrabble and teach her how to play.  Had a couple of turns and she sent me on my way.

I decided then and there that I love the ghana post office.

So we heard that in the eastern region is the hot spot to go.  We are obviously party goers so we though it necessary to go.  After a long bus ride that started out with a prayer (they love the jesus in this country), we ended up in the kwahu plateau.  No hotels have phone numbers here so we had to visit many until we found one that was not completely filled, a little bit frustrating but we made it exciting by walking with speakers in our hands and stopping by the police station and meeting the nicest police man ever named courage (coincidence? who knows?)

we finally find a place to stay and walk around the town of mkoko (sp?). We find a tiny bar with only Ghanaians and dance it up like crazy with them.  They were not as creepy as usual so that was refreshing and i worked my dance moves.

The Kwahu plateau is a huge mountain (parts of which reminded me of table mountain for all you cape townians there was even a little lions head).  I have never seen so much green in my life.  It was a rain forest and mountains.  It was quite refreshing to be in that after being in Accra, which is not the prettiest place I have seen.  So obviously I had to go paragliding off of the mountain.  I jumped off a cliff tandem with a South African (quite appropriate for me I would say) on a parachute.  We flew in the sky for about 30 minutes.  There was some nauseating turbulence and I could not quite get myself in the seat right away and felt like I might plummet to my death, but once I was in the seat, I just enjoyed the feeling of flight.  I seem to want to do life threatening things abroad…

 That evening we attempted to go to the big easter party celebration on the street.  It was  unfortunately the most overwhelming party ever.  We stuck out too much so it was difficult to just blend in and have fun with everyone.  And some people in our group were pick pocketed and groped. So, that part not quite successful. But eh thats travelling for ya.

The next day we went to church for Easter.  Even though I am not religious, I felt it appropriate to go in this overly religious country.  We went to a large Catholic Church.  The service was great.  There was a lot of joyful singing and dancing and praising.  There was no speaking in tongues or anything, which many church services do include here so I was pleasantly surprised.  They had us come up and introduce our American selves to the congregation and we were welcomed with warm smiles. 

 We headed home after church on a quite uncomfortable tro tro with a live chicken on it. 

FuFu is a major food hear that everyone eats.  It is ground up cassava root in a ball that has the texture of oobleck.  Anyways, you have to eat it with your right hand in a scissor technique otherwise you look like a dumb american.  everyone here loves Fufu, but I am not a fan.  I feel that i eat three bites then it expands like a ball in my stomach.

My internship this semester is at a small but ambitious organization called Alliance for African Women Initiative.  I work on a number of projects there and since I spend so much time there, I am sure it will come up numerous times in my writing.

One of the projects that AFAWI has is the support of people living with and affected by HIV/AIDS.  Each month there is a meeting for all of the clients living with HIV/AIDS that serves as a support group, educational session and time to have nutritional food supplements straight from USAID.

In the beginning of the meeting, my supervisor Philip introduced me and the other intern to everyone.  Everyone went around and introduced themselves and gave an update of what they have been doing in the past month, new jobs, new boyfriends etc.  The beginning was quite lighthearted and there were many jokes.  Most of the meeting was in Twi, but  Philip periodically explained what was happening.

Then, the more serious conversations started about stigmas that come with living with HIV/AIDS.  One woman’ story was quite moving.  She lived in a village and her husband died of AIDS.  The doctors at the clinic told the people in the village how her husband died to spread awareness of the disease (there is definitely no HIPPA regulations in this country).  News came out that she had HIV and the town shunned her.  She was a dressmaker and everyone stopped buying dresses for her, her children lost their friends at school.  She was alone.  She moved to outside Accra with her children and wanted to wait in her bedroom by herself until she died.  She finally found a friend that is a member at AFAWI and has begun to put her life together with medication, a job, and she has found out that her two children tested negative for HIV.

Ghana has one of the lowest rates of HIV out of many African countries (it fluctuates between 2-3%).  I think that because of this low rate, there is even more of a stigma towards the people that do have HIV/AIDS.  The country is also so religious and having an illness transmitted through sex implies promiscuity.  People at the meeting were talking about how difficult it is to keep their status a secret to everyone.  This is one place they can go and smile and not care about hiding something from everyone.

Everyone was also so candid with Lindsay and me, which made me feel more comfortable that they did not feel like they had to hide something from us.  AFAWI is so far quite a safe space.

It rained for the first time since I’ve been here last night. And it rained HARD.  We all ran outside and danced in it like crazies.  I could just imagine what the Ghanaians were saying about us crazies then.

Yesterday was Ghanaian Independence day.  We woke up at 6:15 and left by 7 so we could get seats at the parade.  We had a horrible experience getting there. Basically, we took a wrong tro tro and ended up like 40 KM away and took a tro tro back and they tried to charge us more than twice the amount they should have.  I was quite livid, and I have never stuck out for myself like that before.  I yelled!

Anyways, we finally made it to Independence Square.  There was a lot of red, yellow and green and a lot of people.  In the middle, there were hundreds of school children lined up in their colourful uniforms.  Everyone looked very regal and organized, and the president was there but I could not really hear what was going on.  There were horses, and many many police and army men. 

I had a problem with the atmosphere though.  Nobody seemed excited enough to be there, and nobody seemed excited anywhere.  I just feel like a country so young (only 51), when many of the people at Independence Square were alive when the country gained independence, that people should be much more excited.  Not that they need to have lots of barbeques and fireworks and booze like Americans, but I feel like it should be a day that is a lot more special to everyone.  It might have been that last year was so exciting because it was the 50^th year of independence, and everyone was so burnt out.  But it seemed bazaar and disappointing. 

The other day was the first day of my internship.  I had been shown how to get there before, but many areas look almost exactly the same here, and there are no street signs or numbers.  So someone will say “take a right at God Saves Hair Salon” but you could really be anywhere.

Anyways, I wake up at 6:15, the water is not on in the dorm, off to a good start, really. Leave by 7 and hop on the first tro tro and get off at the right stop. so far so good.  Then I get on the next one and told the mate that I needed to get off at the Atomic Filling Station.  But apparently he forgot and I did not notice and Iwent about 15 minutes too far on the tro tro.  When I figured this out, everybody in the tro tro started laughing at the dumb white girl.  But this woman got out of the tro tro with me, crossed the street and waited with me until I got on the correct one.   True act of kindness.  Of course she was making fun of me in Twi half the time, but I guess I deserved it.  Then 2 tro tros and a shared taxi later, I made it.

As much as I complain about the attention that Ghanaians give to white people all the time, when I really need help and am lost, they are always so willing to go out of their way to help you.  I have received phone numbers from strangers just in case I get lost, people getting off of tro tros to wait and make sure I find my way.  Now that is something that really does not happen in the States.

my good friend michael has malaria. we now call him malarious mike!

This weekend, we took an impromptu weekend away, to Michael’s dream beach getaway, Fete Beach, among other towns about 40 kilometers away from Accra. 

On Friday afternoon, we hop on the tro tro (mini bus, cramped, wonderful public transportation) to circle circle circle, then on a bus to Kneshi.  Then we decided we would just ask around at the tro tro station to find a tro tro to Winnebe. When we asked the first Mate we saw (the man that directs tro tro business in each tro tro), the mate decided then and there that he would drive us to Winnebe, it did not seem like he had any plans to go there.  But upon seeing 6 naïve Americans, he probably figured he could make some bank on us.  The whole trip was under five U.S. dollars, and the tro tro took us to the door of Lagoon Lodge, our hotel for the evening.

We walked around the small fishing town of Winnebe.  After we walked out of the area where the University of Education is, we were in this loud, bustling town.  Every child ran up to us “excuse me what is your name?” “how are you?”  One woman put death grips on Effie and Amanda and sang and ran down the street with us.  I had mixed feelings about our walks.  A lot of it was quite humorous, people being so excited to see us.  They probably had no idea what in the hell six white kids were doing walking around their town.  At the same time, I still find it so eerie how fascinated people are by our skin, how they act like they are seeing a celebrity when we are just walking down the street.

That evening, we attempted to go sea turtle hunting, but after getting our taxi cab lost three times, drinking beer in the back of the taxi, then passing out in the back of a cab with six people on it, we realized that the sea turtle guide was not there. Sad story, so we went to an outdoor bar and drank our sorrows about the sea turtles away.

The next day, we went to Fete, i.e. paradise.  The beach was basically empty, and unlike Accra, we could see the sky, there was no blanket of smog covering it.  And unlike Labadi beach, there was nobody there; we could swim in the water without being groped by the hundreds of people swimming, or being suffocated by many plastic bags in the water.  It was a wondrous place, really.  And pina coladas with real pineapple and coconut juice. 

That night, we stayed in a former slave lodge in Senya Baraku.  It turned out to be a bit frustrating at first, because we were the sandiest and sweatiest bunch, and there was no running water.  So beer and about five pounds of rice later, the shower was quite satisfying to say the least.

The next morning, after getting over the fear about what our drinking and food bill would be, we got a tour of the fort.  I feel like I have been to too many familiar places, where people are not treated like people.  Every country I go to has something similar; tiny rooms where they held 100 men, put food down a shoot for them until they walk down the tunnel of never return to the ocean.

The weekend was satisfying, lots of drinking, getting to know each other, relaxing and learning, and it was refreshing to get out of the smog and crowded city of Accra, to a place with lush vegetation and room to breath.