It's been awhile since I've written anything and with my trip coming close to its end (2 weeks left), I feel a little guilty. "My apology." Since the last time I wrote, I've stayed in a rural village (Kpoeta), visited two historic European castles (Fort Groot Friedricksburg and St. George's Castle in Elmina), received a most welcome package from my CSA friends, traveled to the neighboring country to the east, spent a night in a Benedictine monastery, washed countless loads of laundry, met a hundred people, stepped on a sea urchin, got robbed of my camera, and had a coconut thrown at my forehead. The last two of these occurred simultaneously...and just when you were getting hopeful that I would add some some pictures to these blogs...luckily I only lost about 100 photos - although they were my favorites - pictures and video of this gorgeous waterfall which would remind you of a scene from Jurassic Park if you saw it. The waterfall didn't even have a name because it wasn't a tourist site. But I will talk about this later as it is not a Ghanaian-ism!
What is a Ghanaian-ism, you ask? Any dialogue or occurrence which can be used as an example of "QUINTESSENTIAL GHANA." Disclaimer: Ghana is indeed a wonderful place, quite ahead of other African countries in terms of governance, peace-keeping, and overall tolerance of new ideas and foreign people. But my Ghanaian-isms are not meant to capture any of these nice aspects. Rather, a Ghanaian-ism is more likely to portray, for instance, disappointment in services, or promptness, or misunderstanding of environmental issues, or discrepancies between what is fact and what is lore, or statements of what I would consider obvious, or just outstanding proof that the English language has yet to be mastered by many Ghanaians. I think you'll understand after a few examples!
While most of my international friends came prepared with a detailed travel guide about Ghana or West Africa as a whole, I did not. It slipped my mind, and I promise you can't find one of these legit books here (The Lonely Planet, Bradt Guide, and one other), so I had to settle for a guide book written by a Ghanaian, and I'm so glad I did (cause he says "the darndest things")!
I quote from page 130:
"LARABANGA MYSTERY STONE This is a mysterious stone which, according to local sources, defied all odds to be moved for a road to be constructed where it stands. Science is unable to explain why the stone "refused" to be moved. The sources disclosed that on several occasions when this rock had been moved, it mysteriously got back to the original place the following day. The frustrated road constructors finally had no option but to make a detour round the stone."
On page 138, the author talks about the "Whistling Rocks of Tongo," unique geographical rock formations through which the wind causes noises reminiscent of humans whistling. I quote, "Again the rocks are supposed to be the home of some local gods, so there is conflicting opinion as to what or who actually makes the whistling noises. While some traditionalists believe the gods are responsible, naturalists believe it is the force of the wind against the rocks that produces the noise."
On page 164, it talks about Nzulezo village - the "village on water" which you can see in Anthony Bourdain's (from the Food Network) episode on Ghana (on YouTube). The village is built on stilts and is far from civilization, only accessible by canoe. I quote, "The people are so ingenious that they use bamboo rather than metal hooks for fishing."
Sometimes history gets confused with lore and it becomes hard to know the truth...
I quote from page 63,
"OKOMFO ANOKYE SWORD SITE The legendary traditional or fetish priest, Okomfo Anokye, is reputed to be the man who conjured from the skies, the much revered Golden Stool of the Asante" which is "supposed to 'contain' the soul of the Asante nation." ..."Historical accounts have it that Okomfo Anokye one day 'planted' a sword in the ground, and told those present at the event that the day the sword would be uprooted, the Asante Kingdom would disintegrate. Numerous people over the years have tried to uproot the sword but all in vain. In the early 1960s, the then World Heavyweight Boxing champion Cassius Clay, who later became Mohammed Ali, visited Ghana. While in Kumasi, he also tried in vain, to uproot the sword. He finally gave up. An attempt was made later to uproot Okomfo Anokye's Sword using bulldozers. This was also not successful. It is baffling. Visitors to Kumasi will have the rare opportunity of trying their hands on this legendary sword which seems to evince supernatural powers."
I've been to this place and you are no longer allowed to touch the sword. And I wonder why? I managed to sneak a picture down close to where the hilt goes into the ground. ...The hilt reminds me a lot of rebar, but you can decide for yourself.
[I will insert the picture here as soon as I get home.]
My friend Thomas (Univ. of Iowa) went to a baboon sanctuary about 2 hours from campus called Shai Hills. He and some others were led by guide. Finally, when they saw a group of baboons in the distance, some dialogue followed which went more-or-less like this:
Thomas: "So, can we get any closer to the baboons?"
The guide: "Yes. Do you have biscuits?"
Thomas: "I do, in my bag. Why?"
The guide: "If you feed baboons biscuits, they come close."
Thomas: "Okay, so we should feed them my biscuits?"
The guide: "No! No! No! It's not good. Don't feed them."
Thomas: "Alright"
The guide: "Do you have the biscuits?"
The guide kept on asking Thomas for the biscuits, which seriously confused Thomas. After much analysis, I can only come up with one logical answer: maybe the guide was hungry.
Three other friends, Ingvil, Ingelise, and Ann-Kristen (spelling?) all from Norway, visited the famous Mount Afadjato - claimed as the highest mountain in Ghana. After hiking to the top, they had a nice view of all the surroundings, all of which should have been at a lower elevation than them. Instead they found themselves looking a bit up along the horizon at a mountain that was clearly taller than the one they had just surmounted. "So if we're on the highest mountain in Ghana, what's that over there?", they asked their guide. "That's the highest peak in Ghana." [I'll admit I don't know much about the difference between peaks and mountains; supposedly a peak is a connected mountain range, which, at least here, they don't consider a mountain.]
I've got so much to say about the butchering of the English language, so I'll have to leave that for another day. Instead I'll leave you with what my friend Kine (Univ. of Oslo, Norway, link to her blog) has termed "the story of unnecessary parenthesis."
For example, a sign that reads, "Redeeming Grace Academy (School)."
Or this one, from a group powerpoint presentation in class, the first slide read, "Agricultural Land Use: Group Two (2)"
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
"100 friends in three days" (the country where it is quite possible; defining 'professional friends')
In the South (U.S.) we're always talking about our famous "Southern Hospitality." We're supposed to be more welcoming and friendlier towards strangers and visitors than in other parts of the country (i.e. the North). Never having been much of a stranger wherever I go in the U.S., I'll not confirm or deny it.
But here, it's undeniable. And at times, even overwhelming. Still, sometimes, maddening. Ghanaians' missions in life, besides going to America, is to meet everyone in the world.
The procedure:
You're walking (fast or slow, doesn't matter).
You hear "Obroni!" (translation, "white man")
You turn and shout "Obibini" ("black man")
They smile, and friendship is secured.
Then the secret handshake (it's really surprising how universal this is; first, shake, then release and shake at a 90 degree angle, then release as you snap middle fingers.)
"Wo din de sen?" (what is your name)
"Me din de James?"
...
...
...
"Do you have a phone?"
...(in some circumstances you may lie, "no", but then be ready to either write down his number or give him yours or else lie and say you can't remember it)
[Aside: if you decide not to provide means of communication, you will be required to provide some assurance that he will see you again - i.e. "I pass this way every day" or "I'm sure I'll be back sometime/someday". Only if and when this assurance is accepted may you then proceed to the departure stage.]
Assuming you have exchanged numbers:
"Okay, I'll flash you."
[Aside: as you might have guessed, "flashing" has a totally different meaning here. Flashing is simply calling someone without speaking to them so that you can exchange numbers. It is also a way of showing affection: if you're thinking of someone, let them know by flashing them. At the same time it is sometimes also used to communicate to somebody that you wish to talk to them but you've run out of credits: please call me back]
Departure Stage:
"Nice to meet you"
Do the shake. [Note: depending on the excitement level of your correspondent, shaking during the previous conversation may never have ceased. It is customary to either continue holding hands, or repeating the secret shake at 30 second intervals throughout the conversation.]
"Ye beshia bio" ("We will meet again." Another assurance that he will indeed see you again, even if you're thinking otherwise.)
And there it is. That's mainly how it's done. And with limited variation. The most popular questions are "Where are you from?" and "How do you find Ghana?"
You WOULDN'T believe the frequency at which this occurs. Just before coming to this lab, I sat down for some lunch at an outdoor market. And I met Francis (a 300-level, entrepreneuring spirit) and Dictus, his friend. We exchanged numbers. He'll probably call within the next day just to prove that our meeting was significant and he hasn't forgotten me. But most of the time, beyond this, it's just another number in your cell phone. But at least you know who's calling when a month or two later you get a call just out of the blue.
The phone numbers I've collected this far (in my phone and on papers) have to amount to more than a hundred. Keep in mind that I don't exchange numbers with most people I meet. While you don't necessary meet 33.3 people per day (as the title would make you believe), it would certainly be more than possible if you even half-way committed to proactively meeting people. For me, meeting people constantly is tiring so I take a more reactive approach and allow them to come to me (and they do). Most days I average five; several days a weeks, it's 10. When I travel, 25.
Furthermore, certain things affect the frequency of friendship initiations. For example, walking alone. I meet a lot fewer people when I'm walking with friends. Being a girl is probably another; but this is probably because the friendship pursuers are looking for more than friendship. Also, I seem to attract a lot of attention in smaller villages. When I went with a friend to a wedding in a village outside Kumasi, I was surrounded. And I made lots of friends.
There are two main problems for me (there are more for girls) when it comes to meeting strangers.
1. When you give out your phone number, you are always running the risk that your new correspondent is serious about keeping in touch. If so, you may be subject to 5-6 calls per day, and sometimes as many as 13.
2. When you meet someone, your new friendship status is binding. That means that if by chance you do come across this fellow again and you can't remember his name, there will be some tension. (Names are important here - more later). "Please, can you remind me of your name?" The next time you see him and forget, the consequences may be more serious - utter disappointment, shame. They're thinking "Why can't this white man not remember my name? I thought we shook!" So you may have supplement your request for his name with some Twi (a local language which cheers them up when it is used by foreigners). "Mi pachow (I beg of you), what is your name?"
Real quickly, let's rationalize why Ghanaians always remember and obroni (white man, referring to any foreigner- any color) always forget. This is what goes through my head when I am flat-out accused of belittling someone by not remembering their name: First, my personal mental capacity does not grant me the space to store 10 names per day. Second, just who is meeting 10 people/day?! Not you. I'm probably the only foreigner you've seen in weeks! Third, how do you people expect me to remember faces when you all have the same haircut. (Except for Rastafarians, Ghanaians all keep a low buzz to avoid the socially unacceptable fro.) Of course you can remember me. I stick out like a sore thumb!
It is because I am constantly accused of forgetting people's names that I have discovered a part of their language that I can use as a weapon against them. For some reason, I didn't pick it up until recently: Ghanaians have several ways of getting peoples' attention, including but not limited to 1.) hissing loudly (sounds like "Tssss"), 2.) use of "hey boss" or "hey chief", and 3.) use of "challey" (do you like how systematic I make this for you?). These last two are my weapons. So when I can't remember their name, it's going to be "oooo challey!" (challey=my friend)
Finally, being that this is my post on friendship, I would be neglecting an entire dimension of friendship if I left out what is called "professional friendship." We shall define this as a highly suspicious form of friendship (on the one side) which is most probably initiated for the pursuit of monetary beneficiating (on the other side). (By the way, Ghanaians like definitions, for everything. On the first day of class we defined "land" and then "land use" and then "land use planning" and then "water" and ...). Professional frienships are a business here and professional friends are in business for you and their methods are clever (cleverness only a free market economy can promote). For example, I met Kofi while walking to the library. First he gained my trust. "Oh yes, I am a student. Here is my student ID." He knew that people are slow to trust you without proper identification, so he whipped it out of his pocket. Then, upon learning my major, he told me about his small farm in Madina and about all the types of agriculture around the country. He kept me interested for over half an hour before I succeeded in breaking away. And as I broke away, his professionalism unveiled itself. "I want to take you to travel around the country." He told me about the crocodile ponds where you can pet tamed (chicken-satisfied) crocs and a bunch of other real phony touristy gizmos (more on this later)... "We will go this weekend!" I'll save you from the rest - his hampering that I commit to going with him and my avoiding any promises. To make a long story short, he stalked me for three weeks - calling me all the time and somehow running into me all the time on campus (remember, student population =30,000). He was always trying to get me to go traveling with him. When I met him the third week, having gained some understanding of professional frienship since our first meeting, I straight-out asked him his intentions. I knew he was a married man with one kid, barely enough money to continue university education, and problems at home in maintaining a profitable small-farm. Why in the world would he want to take me traveling, which requires money and time he didn't have? ...Kofi's baby was one year old and still without a name. ...So NAME the DANG BABY WHY DON'T YOU! ...This might not make sense to you nor did it to me, but you don't get a name until you have a naming ceremony. And naming ceremonies cost money, an unreasonable sum of money. It's a miracle so many Ghanaians have names! I could tell you more, but the important thing is that professional friends are your friends for a reason, some concealed reason. Kofi needed money for his tour guide skills, which were lacking- but at least he has an entrepreneuring spirit. (Can't always say that for poor people in the U.S.) There's been other professional friends ...Kabu really really wanted to do my laundry. Really badly.
But here, it's undeniable. And at times, even overwhelming. Still, sometimes, maddening. Ghanaians' missions in life, besides going to America, is to meet everyone in the world.
The procedure:
You're walking (fast or slow, doesn't matter).
You hear "Obroni!" (translation, "white man")
You turn and shout "Obibini" ("black man")
They smile, and friendship is secured.
Then the secret handshake (it's really surprising how universal this is; first, shake, then release and shake at a 90 degree angle, then release as you snap middle fingers.)
"Wo din de sen?" (what is your name)
"Me din de James?"
...
...
...
"Do you have a phone?"
...(in some circumstances you may lie, "no", but then be ready to either write down his number or give him yours or else lie and say you can't remember it)
[Aside: if you decide not to provide means of communication, you will be required to provide some assurance that he will see you again - i.e. "I pass this way every day" or "I'm sure I'll be back sometime/someday". Only if and when this assurance is accepted may you then proceed to the departure stage.]
Assuming you have exchanged numbers:
"Okay, I'll flash you."
[Aside: as you might have guessed, "flashing" has a totally different meaning here. Flashing is simply calling someone without speaking to them so that you can exchange numbers. It is also a way of showing affection: if you're thinking of someone, let them know by flashing them. At the same time it is sometimes also used to communicate to somebody that you wish to talk to them but you've run out of credits: please call me back]
Departure Stage:
"Nice to meet you"
Do the shake. [Note: depending on the excitement level of your correspondent, shaking during the previous conversation may never have ceased. It is customary to either continue holding hands, or repeating the secret shake at 30 second intervals throughout the conversation.]
"Ye beshia bio" ("We will meet again." Another assurance that he will indeed see you again, even if you're thinking otherwise.)
And there it is. That's mainly how it's done. And with limited variation. The most popular questions are "Where are you from?" and "How do you find Ghana?"
You WOULDN'T believe the frequency at which this occurs. Just before coming to this lab, I sat down for some lunch at an outdoor market. And I met Francis (a 300-level, entrepreneuring spirit) and Dictus, his friend. We exchanged numbers. He'll probably call within the next day just to prove that our meeting was significant and he hasn't forgotten me. But most of the time, beyond this, it's just another number in your cell phone. But at least you know who's calling when a month or two later you get a call just out of the blue.
The phone numbers I've collected this far (in my phone and on papers) have to amount to more than a hundred. Keep in mind that I don't exchange numbers with most people I meet. While you don't necessary meet 33.3 people per day (as the title would make you believe), it would certainly be more than possible if you even half-way committed to proactively meeting people. For me, meeting people constantly is tiring so I take a more reactive approach and allow them to come to me (and they do). Most days I average five; several days a weeks, it's 10. When I travel, 25.
Furthermore, certain things affect the frequency of friendship initiations. For example, walking alone. I meet a lot fewer people when I'm walking with friends. Being a girl is probably another; but this is probably because the friendship pursuers are looking for more than friendship. Also, I seem to attract a lot of attention in smaller villages. When I went with a friend to a wedding in a village outside Kumasi, I was surrounded. And I made lots of friends.
There are two main problems for me (there are more for girls) when it comes to meeting strangers.
1. When you give out your phone number, you are always running the risk that your new correspondent is serious about keeping in touch. If so, you may be subject to 5-6 calls per day, and sometimes as many as 13.
2. When you meet someone, your new friendship status is binding. That means that if by chance you do come across this fellow again and you can't remember his name, there will be some tension. (Names are important here - more later). "Please, can you remind me of your name?" The next time you see him and forget, the consequences may be more serious - utter disappointment, shame. They're thinking "Why can't this white man not remember my name? I thought we shook!" So you may have supplement your request for his name with some Twi (a local language which cheers them up when it is used by foreigners). "Mi pachow (I beg of you), what is your name?"
Real quickly, let's rationalize why Ghanaians always remember and obroni (white man, referring to any foreigner- any color) always forget. This is what goes through my head when I am flat-out accused of belittling someone by not remembering their name: First, my personal mental capacity does not grant me the space to store 10 names per day. Second, just who is meeting 10 people/day?! Not you. I'm probably the only foreigner you've seen in weeks! Third, how do you people expect me to remember faces when you all have the same haircut. (Except for Rastafarians, Ghanaians all keep a low buzz to avoid the socially unacceptable fro.) Of course you can remember me. I stick out like a sore thumb!
It is because I am constantly accused of forgetting people's names that I have discovered a part of their language that I can use as a weapon against them. For some reason, I didn't pick it up until recently: Ghanaians have several ways of getting peoples' attention, including but not limited to 1.) hissing loudly (sounds like "Tssss"), 2.) use of "hey boss" or "hey chief", and 3.) use of "challey" (do you like how systematic I make this for you?). These last two are my weapons. So when I can't remember their name, it's going to be "oooo challey!" (challey=my friend)
Finally, being that this is my post on friendship, I would be neglecting an entire dimension of friendship if I left out what is called "professional friendship." We shall define this as a highly suspicious form of friendship (on the one side) which is most probably initiated for the pursuit of monetary beneficiating (on the other side). (By the way, Ghanaians like definitions, for everything. On the first day of class we defined "land" and then "land use" and then "land use planning" and then "water" and ...). Professional frienships are a business here and professional friends are in business for you and their methods are clever (cleverness only a free market economy can promote). For example, I met Kofi while walking to the library. First he gained my trust. "Oh yes, I am a student. Here is my student ID." He knew that people are slow to trust you without proper identification, so he whipped it out of his pocket. Then, upon learning my major, he told me about his small farm in Madina and about all the types of agriculture around the country. He kept me interested for over half an hour before I succeeded in breaking away. And as I broke away, his professionalism unveiled itself. "I want to take you to travel around the country." He told me about the crocodile ponds where you can pet tamed (chicken-satisfied) crocs and a bunch of other real phony touristy gizmos (more on this later)... "We will go this weekend!" I'll save you from the rest - his hampering that I commit to going with him and my avoiding any promises. To make a long story short, he stalked me for three weeks - calling me all the time and somehow running into me all the time on campus (remember, student population =30,000). He was always trying to get me to go traveling with him. When I met him the third week, having gained some understanding of professional frienship since our first meeting, I straight-out asked him his intentions. I knew he was a married man with one kid, barely enough money to continue university education, and problems at home in maintaining a profitable small-farm. Why in the world would he want to take me traveling, which requires money and time he didn't have? ...Kofi's baby was one year old and still without a name. ...So NAME the DANG BABY WHY DON'T YOU! ...This might not make sense to you nor did it to me, but you don't get a name until you have a naming ceremony. And naming ceremonies cost money, an unreasonable sum of money. It's a miracle so many Ghanaians have names! I could tell you more, but the important thing is that professional friends are your friends for a reason, some concealed reason. Kofi needed money for his tour guide skills, which were lacking- but at least he has an entrepreneuring spirit. (Can't always say that for poor people in the U.S.) There's been other professional friends ...Kabu really really wanted to do my laundry. Really badly.
Friday, October 2, 2009
The First Ghan-orrhea post yet!
Due to popular demand (meaning, possibly just my mom) I have decided to try to write some stuff down about my experiences here in Ghana. I have been here for 2 months now, and so far I have avoided doing this for several reasons:
1. Lack of motivation.
2. The scarcity of internet access at convenient times here and slow connections.
3. My dislike of the idea of journaling and diaries.
4. Blogs are often me! me! me! things. Nobody likes to read things only about you! you! you!
So what finally made me change my mind? Alzheimers/Dementia. In case I acquire one of these in the future, I'll have something to refresh my memory. This way I can justify Reason #4 above since the intended audience is the future "me" who won't mind hearing about himself.
Honestly, I hope you have better things to do than to read this blog. If I were you, I probably wouldn't read it. Who has time to read other people's blogs? Everybody has something to say on the internet. Who has time to read these things? Time. Time. Time. But here I am on a friday afternoon with nothing much to do. Time is of abundance here. How about where you are? So that's enough negativity... I salute you, Mr. Blog Reader, if you are reading this! And maybe it will end up being funny at times...
Also, why is this blog named Ghan-orrhea? Isn't gonorrhea the name of a serious sexually transmitted disease? Does James have gonorrhea? No. Then why is this blog ... Honestly, I don't know. The best rationale I can think of is that gonorrhea, when spelled Ghan-orrhea, could indicate some condition which affects outsiders who come into Ghana without knowing what to expect. As this is not a logical argument, I think it will remain that the title for this blog is inevitably a stupid one and should not be further rationalized.
So, shall we first cover the personal details...
I, your host, am currently studying at the famous University of Ghana in the Republic of Ghana in West Africa on the African continent. I say "famous" because in Africa it is considered a premier university. With a student population near 30,000, the university hosts around 1,000 international students. An overwhelming majority of these are from Nigeria. The rest are from other African countries (like Cote d'Ivoire) and the rest of the world. My non-African international friends include Canadians, Americans, Norwegians, a Brit, Germans, a Hungarian, aHong Kong girl, Koreans, Japaneses, Frenchies, and Californians (which must go in a separate category simply because they are so distinguishable). Ghanaians come here for free, but after their four years of study, they give back a year of national service.
Being a student here is difficult- not because the classes or assignments are particularly demanding, but because access to educational resources is limited. Let's start with the library - the Balme Library - supposedly the most extensive library in all of West Africa. To enter the library, you must first check any bags at the front desk. Then you may proceed to the computers, of which there are six, to search for a book. These computers are always full, so you have to wait. ...The books available for your topic are all dated 1980 and before. Old books! Eventually you start looking some book on the shelves, only to find that your book is not where it should be. Most likely it hasn't been checked out of the library in years, so it should be there! Where is it? Eventually you find it. But why was call number SB1090.B76 sitting in the SK400 section? Hmm. Then you go to check it out. Oops, there's no barcode because, as we suspected, it hasn't been checked out since 1993. So the front desk will have to hold that book until they get it barcoded (in my case, this meant telling me for three subsequent days that barcoding was still in process followed by my finding that same book in the reshelving section on the fourth day and showing no signs of having been "barcoded" at all). What nerve! ...There are plenty of other unforeseeable conditions that can prevent you from doing things... Perhaps it's Sunday (no checking out of books on Sunday). And no photocopying after 4:00 M-F. The library also keeps innumerable books under lock-and-key: these are books which are prescribed as valuable. (These books seem just as old and commonplace as the books on the open shelves - but they are precious - security is tight on them.) If you want to try finding something written after 1995, you may try the online resources, which can only be accessed within the library in a small, crowded computer lab that charges by the half hour. If you want to be able to access these off-campus, then you should apply for a password, which I have done. I am expected to receive this password within the last two weeks of school. No help. That's enough about the library, I just wanted you to understand how frustrating it can be: unforeseeable frustration. Oh, and there's a security guard at the front entrance to shoot you dead if you steal a precious old book.
Let's continue with lack of information...
Students don't buy textbooks. They're simply too expensive. Usually the professor owns the sole copy of the textbook for the class, and this is photocopied incrementally to provide the text for the class. This brings about a shocking discovery for me: To educate in Africa, only ONE book per professor is required - not one book per student, but one per class. If only your professor used a modern textbook! With ONE new book, he could educate hundreds of students each year with MODERN knowledge. Mmmm. My Norwegian friends are taking a class called "Transportation Geography;" the text for the class is titled "Modern Transportation" and was published in 1950. Enough said.
Finally, the internet. It's run as a business here on campus. Often the internet cafes are full. The connections are slow. And you pay for it - if one page takes 3 minutes to load, yup.
One last thing I want to say in this first blog is my "disclaimer." That is, I am not a better man than you because I got to go to Ghana. I'm lucky to have been able to come here; a lot of things sought to prevent me (Clemson curricula requirements, mom), but you are not missing out if you don't travel. Occasionally, we get the chance to go to interesting places. And I believe our duty upon our return is to increase awareness of the situation and conditions of our destination. I, personally, hope this blog and whatever I verbally communicate in the future will help change Americans' views of Africa as "The Dark Continent" (more on this later). ...But I will never say things like "You just have to go to Africa." or "Africa is so much better than the U.S." This is partly due to my skepticism concerning tourism here. Sometimes developing countries I think are treated as monkey exhibits at a zoo. Tourists come here to see the animals and the history and they stay in only the nice hotels. I imagine that sometimes they forget about the people. If your only interactions with people involve exhanges of money, you may fail to see the humanity aspect. And while the competition for cash (from tourists) is especially strong here, there are still plenty of people here interested in getting to know more about you. The trick to reciprocate this interest - be interested in them - and then you have put Humanity first. It is the people here that connect this place to the rest of the world (more on this later).
Here are some future articles I hope to write on this blog; they are going to be hilarious (I've already decided):
"The Dark Continent" (Africans know what Americans think of their continent)
"National Pride - and Disdain" (Ahead of Africa, behind in the world)
"Africans don't need light to see in the dark" (oh, the places and times you'll find people)
"Hey obroni (white man)!, Hey obibini (black man)" (where is racism in this country?)
"The Spiritual Dilemma" (Euro-African clashes, naivety, and skepticism; how Christianity can be quite disturbing)
"The Sword in the Ground and other Questionable Ghanaian History" (self-explanatory)
"Marriage Proposals and their Frequency" (British inhibition, and how it never caught on here)
"Can I borrow a cedi?...God Bless you!" (misconceptions in the mind of an outsider)
"Ghana is making money...but who is profiting?"
"The University of Ghana: A premier African education" (the grim outlook of graduates from UG)
"So do you think you can dance?" (African babies begin dancing immediately upon exit of the womb)
"GMT: Ghana Maybe Time" (or, 'if I decide to show up')
"I'm not afraid of Malaria" (a discourse on frequency of the virus, and how it happens that the most careful people come down with the most serious health problems)
"'And coming all the way from America..." (an Ghana media experience at 'Ghana's Most Beautiful' pageant)
"100 friends in three days" (the country where it is quite possible; defining 'professional friends')
"Akwaba Obama" (how the U.S. president became their favorite person - instantly!)
"Twi, Gaa, Ewe, and Twenty-some-odd other languages" (and the current state of the English language in Ghana)
"But I had that for lunch!" (the local foods: I will describe them. you will practically taste them)
1. Lack of motivation.
2. The scarcity of internet access at convenient times here and slow connections.
3. My dislike of the idea of journaling and diaries.
4. Blogs are often me! me! me! things. Nobody likes to read things only about you! you! you!
So what finally made me change my mind? Alzheimers/Dementia. In case I acquire one of these in the future, I'll have something to refresh my memory. This way I can justify Reason #4 above since the intended audience is the future "me" who won't mind hearing about himself.
Honestly, I hope you have better things to do than to read this blog. If I were you, I probably wouldn't read it. Who has time to read other people's blogs? Everybody has something to say on the internet. Who has time to read these things? Time. Time. Time. But here I am on a friday afternoon with nothing much to do. Time is of abundance here. How about where you are? So that's enough negativity... I salute you, Mr. Blog Reader, if you are reading this! And maybe it will end up being funny at times...
Also, why is this blog named Ghan-orrhea? Isn't gonorrhea the name of a serious sexually transmitted disease? Does James have gonorrhea? No. Then why is this blog ... Honestly, I don't know. The best rationale I can think of is that gonorrhea, when spelled Ghan-orrhea, could indicate some condition which affects outsiders who come into Ghana without knowing what to expect. As this is not a logical argument, I think it will remain that the title for this blog is inevitably a stupid one and should not be further rationalized.
So, shall we first cover the personal details...
I, your host, am currently studying at the famous University of Ghana in the Republic of Ghana in West Africa on the African continent. I say "famous" because in Africa it is considered a premier university. With a student population near 30,000, the university hosts around 1,000 international students. An overwhelming majority of these are from Nigeria. The rest are from other African countries (like Cote d'Ivoire) and the rest of the world. My non-African international friends include Canadians, Americans, Norwegians, a Brit, Germans, a Hungarian, aHong Kong girl, Koreans, Japaneses, Frenchies, and Californians (which must go in a separate category simply because they are so distinguishable). Ghanaians come here for free, but after their four years of study, they give back a year of national service.
Being a student here is difficult- not because the classes or assignments are particularly demanding, but because access to educational resources is limited. Let's start with the library - the Balme Library - supposedly the most extensive library in all of West Africa. To enter the library, you must first check any bags at the front desk. Then you may proceed to the computers, of which there are six, to search for a book. These computers are always full, so you have to wait. ...The books available for your topic are all dated 1980 and before. Old books! Eventually you start looking some book on the shelves, only to find that your book is not where it should be. Most likely it hasn't been checked out of the library in years, so it should be there! Where is it? Eventually you find it. But why was call number SB1090.B76 sitting in the SK400 section? Hmm. Then you go to check it out. Oops, there's no barcode because, as we suspected, it hasn't been checked out since 1993. So the front desk will have to hold that book until they get it barcoded (in my case, this meant telling me for three subsequent days that barcoding was still in process followed by my finding that same book in the reshelving section on the fourth day and showing no signs of having been "barcoded" at all). What nerve! ...There are plenty of other unforeseeable conditions that can prevent you from doing things... Perhaps it's Sunday (no checking out of books on Sunday). And no photocopying after 4:00 M-F. The library also keeps innumerable books under lock-and-key: these are books which are prescribed as valuable. (These books seem just as old and commonplace as the books on the open shelves - but they are precious - security is tight on them.) If you want to try finding something written after 1995, you may try the online resources, which can only be accessed within the library in a small, crowded computer lab that charges by the half hour. If you want to be able to access these off-campus, then you should apply for a password, which I have done. I am expected to receive this password within the last two weeks of school. No help. That's enough about the library, I just wanted you to understand how frustrating it can be: unforeseeable frustration. Oh, and there's a security guard at the front entrance to shoot you dead if you steal a precious old book.
Let's continue with lack of information...
Students don't buy textbooks. They're simply too expensive. Usually the professor owns the sole copy of the textbook for the class, and this is photocopied incrementally to provide the text for the class. This brings about a shocking discovery for me: To educate in Africa, only ONE book per professor is required - not one book per student, but one per class. If only your professor used a modern textbook! With ONE new book, he could educate hundreds of students each year with MODERN knowledge. Mmmm. My Norwegian friends are taking a class called "Transportation Geography;" the text for the class is titled "Modern Transportation" and was published in 1950. Enough said.
Finally, the internet. It's run as a business here on campus. Often the internet cafes are full. The connections are slow. And you pay for it - if one page takes 3 minutes to load, yup.
One last thing I want to say in this first blog is my "disclaimer." That is, I am not a better man than you because I got to go to Ghana. I'm lucky to have been able to come here; a lot of things sought to prevent me (Clemson curricula requirements, mom), but you are not missing out if you don't travel. Occasionally, we get the chance to go to interesting places. And I believe our duty upon our return is to increase awareness of the situation and conditions of our destination. I, personally, hope this blog and whatever I verbally communicate in the future will help change Americans' views of Africa as "The Dark Continent" (more on this later). ...But I will never say things like "You just have to go to Africa." or "Africa is so much better than the U.S." This is partly due to my skepticism concerning tourism here. Sometimes developing countries I think are treated as monkey exhibits at a zoo. Tourists come here to see the animals and the history and they stay in only the nice hotels. I imagine that sometimes they forget about the people. If your only interactions with people involve exhanges of money, you may fail to see the humanity aspect. And while the competition for cash (from tourists) is especially strong here, there are still plenty of people here interested in getting to know more about you. The trick to reciprocate this interest - be interested in them - and then you have put Humanity first. It is the people here that connect this place to the rest of the world (more on this later).
Here are some future articles I hope to write on this blog; they are going to be hilarious (I've already decided):
"The Dark Continent" (Africans know what Americans think of their continent)
"National Pride - and Disdain" (Ahead of Africa, behind in the world)
"Africans don't need light to see in the dark" (oh, the places and times you'll find people)
"Hey obroni (white man)!, Hey obibini (black man)" (where is racism in this country?)
"The Spiritual Dilemma" (Euro-African clashes, naivety, and skepticism; how Christianity can be quite disturbing)
"The Sword in the Ground and other Questionable Ghanaian History" (self-explanatory)
"Marriage Proposals and their Frequency" (British inhibition, and how it never caught on here)
"Can I borrow a cedi?...God Bless you!" (misconceptions in the mind of an outsider)
"Ghana is making money...but who is profiting?"
"The University of Ghana: A premier African education" (the grim outlook of graduates from UG)
"So do you think you can dance?" (African babies begin dancing immediately upon exit of the womb)
"GMT: Ghana Maybe Time" (or, 'if I decide to show up')
"I'm not afraid of Malaria" (a discourse on frequency of the virus, and how it happens that the most careful people come down with the most serious health problems)
"'And coming all the way from America..." (an Ghana media experience at 'Ghana's Most Beautiful' pageant)
"100 friends in three days" (the country where it is quite possible; defining 'professional friends')
"Akwaba Obama" (how the U.S. president became their favorite person - instantly!)
"Twi, Gaa, Ewe, and Twenty-some-odd other languages" (and the current state of the English language in Ghana)
"But I had that for lunch!" (the local foods: I will describe them. you will practically taste them)
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