Cape Coast — Parties and Poverty

This past weekend, I ventured to Cape Coast to see their annual festival. Needless to say, the festival–complete with a sacrifice of a bull, colorful costumes, a procession of chiefs, and streets filled with Ghanaians and tourists–was rather wild.

I woke up early on Saturday morning to see the main procession. The streets were completely crammed with onlookers, festival participants, and vendors. The beginning of the procession was wonderful. I managed to acquire a perch on a concrete ledge that gave me a perfect viewpoint of the street. As I chomped down on plantain chips, I watched people dressed up as gorillas dancing wildly, masked individuals shaking their coin boxes at tourists for spare change, and quite a few men walking around cross-dressed in female attire. The whole event seemed to me to be like a Ghanaian twist on American Halloween.

Things got a bit more hectic when I had to navigate through the crowd myself in order to get back to the Cape Coast Slave Castle to eat lunch. The crowd was so thick that I could barely move…except for when people would grab my wrists to get me to dance or to try and push me deeper into the crowd. People gyrated against me, threw beer on me, and waved to me.The atmosphere was both exhilarating and completely overwhelming. In any case, I still had a blast.

However, I think the most resounding thing that happened to me in Cape Coast was not the festival itself.

A fellow UC EAP student helps run a group called “Future for the Youth.” On Friday, a bunch of us took a tro-tro into a village to visit the children that her group benefits. As soon as we got out of our vehicle, a huge group of young children ran up to us. They were full of such a bright energy and they had a great time playing with us. The children that I have had the opportunity to meet in Ghana, and especially in that village, have such unique and beautiful spirits.

However, many of them were sick. Quite a few of their abdomens were bloated with worms. A set of twins who looked to be about five years old had clouded, liquid eyes and appeared to be at least partially blind. My friend said that many of the children in the villages die of parasites and worms. When I asked about their access to dewormers, she responded, “They probably try local herbs and medicines…but who knows how well that works.”

After we spent some time with the younger children, the youth from the program came out. We endured their long walk along the main road to the school, sat in their classroom, and then we were treated to a dance performance by the children.

The school is located quite close to a burning dump heap which chugged out endless black clouds into the air, giving the schoolyard a foggy look that reminded me of cold days near my home by San Francisco. As the children danced for us outside, I could see younger children in a nearby field playing with two sticks and a tire for entertainment.

All the children I met that day were bright and eager to learn. Despite their circumstances, the youth that I’ve met in Ghana have been so wonderful. They have so much energy and a huge will to succeed. Many of them want to be doctors or managers of non-profit organizations so that they can help their fellow Ghanaians. When I see them, I wonder about American children who have so much, yet always seem to be wanting more. It also makes me wonder a bit about fate and why it is that some manage to be born into “privilege” while these children watch their bellies expand with pulsing parasites, hoping to someday rise above their circumstances to seize a better life. Furthermore, are American children truly better off in the long run or do these children (at least the ones who manage to achieve their goals of going to University and getting a lucrative job) have experiences that give them a unique insight on life?

Whatever the answers to my questions are, I hope that this weekend will not be the last time that I venture out to Cape Coast to experience the Rasta vibe, the beautiful ocean cliffs by the castle, the laid back pubs, and those amazing children.