There's No Escaping It

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” – Nelson Mandela

To many Ghanaians, Jesus is the most important person in their life. People here are intensely religious. About two-thirds of the population is Christian, with the remainder being Muslim. Ghanaians pray before a trotro departs for its journey. They pray at the beginning of a staff meeting. I recently saw a man on his knees praying along the roadside. Students at my training college attend church every single day at 6am. In almost every town I have visited, someone along the way asked me if I went to church. In the middle of markets, you will sometimes find a man with a microphone preaching. Religion is impossible to escape in Ghana.

I get it. People living in extreme poverty need hope, so they rely on faith. Religion also serves as a social outlet for many Ghanaians. Church is the place where people build relationships and network, which makes sense, considering it’s free! I might choose to go to a wine bar or an art museum to be social, but those places demand money upon entrance. A church lets anyone in free of charge. Though it’s not my thing, the Ghanaian dependence on religion brings these people a lot of joy. To each his own.

To honor this strong faith, the names of many shops, stores, and even trotros have religious undertones. Here are some examples:

Come One, Come All!

"Every age, every culture, every custom and tradition has its own character, its own weakness and its own strength, its beauties and cruelties; it accepts certain sufferings as matters of course, puts up patiently with certain evils…” -- Herman Hesse

As obvious as it is, I didn’t really think about life like this until my friend Amy S. brought it up: there is a great difference between loneliness and being alone. Loneliness is generally forced, while being alone is at times, somewhat of a choice. About a month ago, I was consumed by the loneliness and I was boo-hooing all over the place. I thought I would have some sort of social life here, but I’ve got nothing really on this college campus. My roommate and I chat occasionally, but this house has some sort of open-door policy that no one really informed me of. Students come and go as they please. One weekend that my roommate was gone she gave a few students keys to the house. I would prefer my home to be my home, not some sort of community center. African culture seems to be much more community based than my private American life where I keep to myself in my apartment and barely speak to any of the neighbors. Everyone talks to everyone here, which seems appropriate to me within a town or community. But on a college campus for all of the students to be “friends” with the professors seems like a bit much. So, when students are at the house, and engaged in any sort of conversation with my roommate, it’s all in Twi. I therefore sit there clueless. The same happens in the staff room. If I have a specific question or topic to discuss with someone, then they will speak to me in English, but outside of that, not many people seem to care to include me in conversations. The feeling of loneliness is only heightened when I am in the physical presence of people who make absolutely no effort to connect with me. Thankfully, with time, I am beginning to accept these situations as they are. The majority of the conversations I engage in here at this college will last twenty seconds, and that is just how it’s going to be. Twi will be the primary language spoken in my kitchen while I’m there, and again, that is just life. So, turns out, I’m much happier when I completely avoid these uncomfortable circumstances and just do my own thing.

I’m finding myself enjoying my alone time again, as I did when living in Chicago. Depression clouded my mind when I arrived here and I was clinging to anything and anyone for companionship because I felt lost and confused about my new world. Thankfully, that feeling has generally passed. Of course I miss my people, but at last, I am settling into a normal life routine again, rather than sleeping for obscene amounts of hours or just laying around lifeless. I’m working out again, in addition to my 4am occasional jogs, which boosts my energy. I’m painting, reading, perusing the web, writing, watching movies, and enjoying having the time to enjoy such leisure activities. It’s also nice to have things to look forward to such as the visitor I have coming in a few short weeks. Ms. Jenny Andrews, fellow teacher at Bronzeville last year, will make her first journey to the motherland. Hooray! I will also see a few other friends in the next month, and at the end of February I’m off to Kenya! It feels good to be on the upswing now.

Coming to terms with life here has been all about accepting and understanding that there is absolutely nothing I can do about anything. Just because I showed up here doesn’t mean these people are going to change their ways because of me or my opinions. The priorities around here are, #1 – religion, #2 – sports, #3 – education. For example, yesterday I was supposed to lead a workshop for the college staff and I had to reschedule it because of sports. Also, no classes Friday because of more sports. I think it’s wack, but who am I? Oh yea, just a random obruni who dropped in on the motherland trying to impart some sort of knowledge. Life in Ghana will continue on as is and I just have to fit myself into it somehow. In all honesty, I’m glad I’m here, but come June, home sweet home will taste so very sweet.

Here is the reason that classes were cancelled yesterday afternoon and today.

Praise Jesus!

“There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” – Nelson Mandela

My African Sunday best. You got it. I attended a church service. A rare occurrence for me. Not because the Christian minds of Ghana have reformed me, but simply because I wanted to have the experience of attending church in Africa.

Upon entering the church, the grey cement floor was covered with long brown wooden pews. Set off to the side in front were pews for the choir and next to them was the band with an electronic keyboard that served as the organ, and a full drum set. Men and women dressed in their authentic batik scattered the pews. Small children stared with complete fascination at me of course. An obruni in church? This was brand new territory for those little people. No African time in church world. At exactly 9:30am, just as posted, the service began. Of course the majority of the service was done in Twi, but I’m pretty sure the main idea here was that Jesus is coming back. An idea that I simply cannot wrap my head around, but here, the true believers are convinced that he is returning at some point. The sermon topic for the day was Watchfullness, and sporadically, the Reverend would throw in some English, which gave me a tiny glimpse into the minds of the congregation. When the Reverend finished, any guests of the church were asked to stand. I obliged, and was then escorted to the front by my roommate, and two other staff members from the college. Rather than me babbling on in the microphone, my roommate introduced me to the people and explained my purpose. Afterwards, she told me what she said. Turns out, she lied to the entire church and told them that I asked her to bring me to church, when in fact, she invited me, and I awkwardly said ok because I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to get out of going. Can’t promise that I will become a regular attendee, but nonetheless, it was a good morning overall.

On a more sour note…..pun totally intended….I think breast-feeding is disgusting. Don’t get me wrong. I totally understand the value of it and think it is a healthy activity for babies and mothers alike. However, I think it is terribly rude and inconsiderate to do it in the presence of others. I don’t need to see any of my friend’s or stranger’s breasts, but this weekend, I did. While in my kitchen with a student who was showing me how to prepare Red Red, a most delicious African dish, a former student of my roommate’s was visiting. As we were preparing food, this woman sat down and unveiled her goods for all to see. Needless to say, my level of discomfort rose significantly, but I just went about my business as if there wasn’t a large brown breast exposed in the room. Difficult to do in case you’ve never tried it. Several times while walking through town, I have seen various women sitting outside their homes or stores with exposed breasts feeding their young babies. These women have no shame. In Ghanaian culture, it is frowned upon to wear too short of skirts or shorts, or to have a very low-cut shirt, but women can freely expose their breasts in public? So, I am expected to wear my Bermuda shorts, but African women can flash me at will. Seems mildly contradictory to me. Again, I know that these women are providing for their babies and are simply taking care of their offspring. Of course they should do that. I would just prefer if it didn’t occur next to my stove while I’m stirring beans and frying plantains.

As my stay here progresses, I find myself falling more and more in love with America, and less in love with Africa. It is beyond frustrating to sit back and watch people do nothing about problems, especially in the education system. Being single for the better part of the last 10 years, and being childless, my passion in life has been my career. And if you get me talking about education, that passion is clear as day. It’s painful for me to see what is considered acceptable around here in these schools. My voice here is so small and insignificant to most. If nothing else, this Africa gig is motivating me even more to pursue a leadership position in a school and make my voice be heard.

Tomorrow I head to Accra! More than ready for some big city action with some good friends.