“Life goes on within you and without you.”

Exactly one month has passed since my return to the States from Ghana and I still feel like my head is reeling from reverse culture shock or, as I like to call it, “culture whiplash.”

When you leave your family, your friends, your University, your job — your home — for nearly 5 months, obviously things are going to change. But, for some reason, I feel like my time in Ghana was nothing more than a dream… as if I closed my eyes and dreamed of this blurry faraway land while the world around me was frozen suspended in the night.

Though my time in West Africa seems so far away from my life in California, it was most certainly no figment of my imagination and, while some aspects of my life seem to have only been put on pause until my return, so much has changed. I keep reminding myself that I knew before that, as The Beatles once sang, “Life goes on within you and without you,” it is a nearly impossible concept to truly internalize.
Not only has life gone on without me, but I have found that it is a wasted effort to try to explain my experience to, well, basically anyone who hasn’t been to Ghana themselves. Besides, how can I even begin to sum up my trip by responding to, “So, how was Africa?” (more…)

A Fond Farewell

As the day of my departure draws closer, I’m experiencing such a mix of emotions that I literally can’t fall asleep at night. My mind keeps racing with thoughts of how things will be different back home at the States, worries about adjusting to my normal busy life, and, of course, about how I am about to leave this place that I have just recently become so comfortable in.

I don’t know what I will tell people when they ask me, “So, how was West Africa?” It would take years to explain my experiences and words don’t even begin to describe how I feel about this place, about living here, and about leaving. But, hey, I might as well give it a try.

I have learned so much in West Africa. Obviously, I have been endowed with a few superficial skills. I can do a number of traditional dances, I know how to drum, I can speak some Twi and a bit of pidgen English, I know what tro-tros to take to get to different parts of the country, and I know how to eat fufu with my hands. (more…)

Teaching the Teacher

I find it somewhat remarkable that, considering my general aversion to kids, I found myself working with children during my stay in Ghana. Yes, the girl who declares that she will never be a mother and who finds it hard to get through a few hours of babysitting both worked at a refugee camp with orphaned children and, get this, taught once a week at an underprivileged school.

I hate to admit that I started teaching out of boredom. Nope, no great ambition to save the world or share my vast wealth of knowledge with those less fortunate. I simply couldn’t handle the lack of challenge that the University of Ghana presented me and, when my friend told me about the school program, I thought it would be an interesting opportunity.

Well, if I was looking for a challenge, I certainly got one. (more…)

Togo: Part Deux

As the taxi-moto driver encouraged the zippy motorcycle, also known as zemijohn, even faster along the quiet dirt road, I clung on for dear life with a single thought blaring in my mind: “I’m not wearing a helmet.”

The day before I found myself, once again, in Lome, Togo’s lovely capital city. My two friends and I had planned for a trip to see voodoo markets in Togoville followed by a guided hike in Kpalime’s butterfly reserve. However, when we spotted a flyer by the hotel restaurant for paragliding, all plans were off. The next morning, we braved a number of shared taxis to get to Adeta. We had no idea where we were going, exactly who we were going to meet, how much paragliding would cost, or if we’d even get there…but it didn’t really seem to matter. (more…)

The Obamenon

“I like your outfit,” a young Ghanaian man called as I passed him on an early morning jog. He pointed to my shirt, which featured Obama on a stamp in traditional African colors.

“Thanks,” I responded, giving him a friendly wave as I jogged on.

It’s official: Ghana is obsessed with our president. He watches over the constant Accra traffic from a multitude of tall billboards alongside Ghana’s President Mills—which has been photoshopped over a space that Michelle formally occupied—and his image adorns dresses and messenger bags hanging for sale in roadside stalls. Artistic depictions of Obama—ranging from every medium from paintings to sculptures—sit beside traditional African pieces. Countless taxis have American flags featuring Obama’s face in the center tacked to their dashboards and I have encountered more than one person who has warmly referred to me as “Obama’s child.” (more…)

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