It's Tantalizing!

Watching Barack Obama become sworn in to be the next president of the United States with a group of Africans was, simply put, one of the most interesting things I have ever done. Yesterday was the first day of my internship and at about 3:00, we all stopped what we were doing to sit down to watch the inauguration. The whole experience just brought home the whole notion of how connected the world really is. People know what is happening in America. They are informed and they are interested. I am on the other side of the world and I took part in a debate that I have had countless times with friends and family, all American, but got a completely new perspective on it. One discussion, for obvious reasons, centered around whether or not Barack Obama was actually African. People in Africa seem thrilled to see an African American become president of the U.S. but they are skeptical, of course, of how African he really is. Afterall, he really is another Oburoni and even though his father was from Kenya, he had no real relationship with him. Sam actually found himself in a similar discussion at the shop down the road and the women said she didn't like Obama because of how he claims to be African and she finds that offensive. The discussion comes to the same conclusion all over the world though! Black or white, Ghanain, Kenyan, or American, this guy is good. It just makes you think about how much of a worldwide impact this election has had. It’s one of those things that makes you proud to be an American.

One guy was disappointed in the John William’s piece being performed by the orchestra. “Where are the drums?!” HA! Ohhhh, it’s not Africa, that is for sure.

The whole experience was positively surreal. I don’t think I could have been in a better place to witness this historic moment. It blows my mind to think about it.

Everything is swell here though! I am so happy to be here and to be experiencing these things. Everyday is a new adventure.

Friday night we went out to Chez Afrique, a pretty happening place on a Friday with a live band and everything. Man, people can DANCE in Africa. I’m pretty sure it’s just in the blood. You can dance all night here. Really. The band plays in such a way that the music NEVER stops, it’s one continuous flow. So I really did dance all night. Waking up the next morning with the sun beating through your windows and sweat rolling down your forehead with a belly full of beer and a very angry and betrayed head is not pleasant though.

We went to the beach on Saturday. BEAUTIFUL beach. Yes, the Gulf of Guinea is wonderful. There was so much to look at, so many things to observe that I was completely content with sitting in the shade for hours. There are people everywhere trying to sell you things that you have to deal with but I have found that avoiding eye contact at all costs usually works. There are musicians who go around the beach. A group of Rasta guys played some songs. Bob Marley is a god here. There were also a group of acrobats performing crazy stunts.

Mmmmhmmm…We’ve had a couple of seamstresses come over to our house. Talk about service!! They come to your house, with a bag full of pre-made shirts and dresses, AND THEN you can pick out any fabric they have and ask for any style of dress, and they take all your measurements. Two days later, they stop by again with the finished and customized dress! It’s unreal! A lady selling baked goods tagged along with the first seamstress and I was intrigued to try her muffins after being assured by the seamstresses that her cooking was “tantalizing!” And it was! You can’t beat real home grown cocoa.

On another note, Converse has taken over the world. You can’t escape them…

Harmattan

It's the harmattan season right now, meaning the winter winds from Europe are being carried across the Sahara desert right into our backyard, resulting in my teeth being covered by a layer of dust by the end of the day. Today is especially windy and I can feel the dust in my mouth and the sting in my eyes after only being awake for half the day.
Sam and I rode the trotro by ourselves for the first time today. There was a little confusion but the relief sets in when people prove just how kind they can be. I rest assured that no matter how lost I may get one day, people will be more than willing to tell me how to get home. To Opungalow junction. Everything is set by junctions more or less here. Getting on the right trotro that will pass your destination is the tricky part. There are no lights directing you to the right trotro, telling you where this particular one is going. Rather, there is a guy that sticks half his body out of the window as it passes the stop and he yells a destination, like circle, accra, legon, medina. So it is your job to know which bus is going which way and where your stop is along the way. Even if you get on the wrong one, as we did today, they are kind enough to tell you. They let us off at the next stop and didn't even charge us. One trotro ride to the accra mall was 30 pesewas. Really. Really. Really. Versus a taxi ride being about 3 cedis.
The right choice makes itself obvious.

Mema wo aha!

Hello from Ghana!
I've been in Accra for a few days now and life couldn't be better.
I'm staying in a nice house with two others that is surrounded by high walls and barbed wire and we have our own personal three friendly armed guards at the door who are also good for killing slow moving bugs that have infested boomni's room.
But yes, Life is so far so good here.
Accra is a huge city with so many people. I have already been identified as an obruni (foreigner) by several young children but have been welcomed by many, even while passing through in the market. The market is an explosion of senses and my one walk through it still a blur in my mind. As is so many things right now. Everything is so new that it's hard to start picking things out. I'm getting there though.
We explored the city some more today and found ourselves in a drum making shop with guys who were eager to welcome us through drumming. It was wonderful and my body was filled with happiness.
Trotro riding is truly getting down to the nitty gritty of Ghanian life. Being crammed in a minibus full of people and trying to figure out which direction to go and which stop to get off at is going to take some getting used to. Talking to some foreigners who have been here for a bit longer than I have reassures me that I will catch the hang of it in no time.
Women walk around the streets with their foreheads scrunched at the weight of the load of goods balanced on top of their head. Water packets are available everywhere. I share the house with several newts.
It is
very
very
hot.
I get the feeling that the women at the shop down the road is here to help and I am gracious for her sincerety.

Rusty Nerves

I have fallen victim to perpetual cold and clammy sweats and the inability to focus.
It is due to the knot in my stomach that has folded itself fifteen times over since yesterday.
I am only admitting this to the internet because it is the truth and honesty is real.
So in order to appease the masses, I will be honest and I will put this here for your non-enjoyment.
#1. done.
Sunday is the word.