J-Term Diaries: Felicia Herzog

Shock spread through me entirely as we sped back to Randy-Mac, something that I had least expected. Going through customs in New York and then the domestic flight to Baltimore did nothing to prepare me for the drive back home. Questions and observations ran through my mind as we flew down I-95 - it felt like we were flying because of how smooth the road was in comparison to those we left behind in Ghana.
Immediately I noticed the lack of people out and about - I literally counted twelve people outside in parking lots, etc. on our return. The distance between each of the cars seemed immense, which mimicked the immensity of loneliness and individuality I felt in my seat of the charter bus (which seemed bigger than the golden one we had had in Ghana). It seemed that everyone was focused on their own solitaire expeditions than experiencing things with others. No trotros, no passengers in the backs of trucks, and no taxis wound through the ebb of traffic - instead sedans, vans, and sports cars with one or maybe two people sped to their own distinct destinations.
I felt alone, helpless, and lonely, even on the bus with my fellow classmates and professors. Everything seemed to scream that things were bigger than I can ever be - but things that scared me. We passed by Potomac Mills, one of the biggest shopping centers within driving distance for us, and capitalism came to my mind, and how I'll never meet the people who made the products that filled row after row of shelves in the grand stores. As I mentioned earlier, so few people were outside, and it made me think of how here in America, we are more focused on producing and offering services that limit our physical activity and contact with others on a face to face basis. We drove by McMansion neighborhoods where single families will raise their children amidst strangers, who in turn will build their own home amidst a  new set of strangers and continue the ideal that you must own your own home and raise a new family while your parents, brothers, and sisters do the same.
Do not get me wrong, I really do love living here and am grateful that I am able to experience things that millions and millions of others in the world cannot even fathom. Nor do I say that individuality is a bad thing, or that it is not an accomplishment to own your own home or be away from your family. However, I have reached a point in my life where I am beginning to look at what we as Americans call rational and irrational, and I am looking at the ways other people live their lives in order to see a clearer image of what my world is. Experiencing this brief time in Ghana has opened up my mind to seeing how I live.
I am very grateful for all of the support and help and encouragement that I have received to make this trip a reality. This is just another of, God willing, many eye opening experiences that will enable me to relate with others, to try to define my life more clearly, and to spread what I have experienced through my actions and thoughts. I appreciate all of you who have taken the time to read my blogs, as I have tried to be as sincere and honest as I could with the language of writing. Again, thank you, all of you who have made this real for me - my family, my church, my friends, my fellow travellers, and you the reader. Me dah see.

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If in the future I need to move to Ghana, I have found the region with my name on it. Ho is the easternmost region in Ghana and contains the Akosombo Dam and Lake Volta. The pace of life is much less chaotic than what I've experienced in Accra, Cape Coast, and Kumasi. It is much slower, and the people aren't as interested in us. Today we visited a shop owned by Crafty, a man known throughout the world for his art and talent. It was nice to step off of the bus and not be bombarded by vendors urging us to step into their shops. Gazes were still directed towards us, by all means, because we are still a caravan of American tourists. After visiting Crafty's shop, he invited us to come to his house and workshop where we were able to browse through that selection, lounge about in the handmade chairs, and play dress up with hats, scarves, and robes.

On the way to his workshop, we had to walk through a neighborhood behind shops and houses. At the first turn, there was an elementary school, and all of the boys and girls were playing outside, and started waving and jumping with excitement as we approached. This was more fulfilling for me, to be with the children, waving and smiling with them. Happiness seemed to radiate from them and it was contagious. I'm sure that I had a huge grin on my face after shaking their hands and saying hello. That is a moment that will be wth me for my life because of how simple and joyous it was.

I want to contain that contagious and genuine happiness so that I can share that with others especially while I am here. I've come to realize that the influence we have is not limited and that impact is made with even the simplest gestures. As we were driving back to the hotel, I waved out of the window to some children, but in between us there was a woman under a tree, lounging in the heat. The children didn't see me waving, however the woman waved heartily and really smiled at me (the corners of her eyes crinkled and that's what I call a real smile). I hadn't meant to wave at her, which is what makes that moment so sincere and precious to me. I pray that I will be able to continue to make these small imprints in the hearts and lives of the people I am with, as I know how powerful the same gestures have been for me.

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Yesterday, we made our way through Kumasi, a city closer to something we are accustomed to in the states than the other places we've visited so far in our journey. After touring through the palace of the Ashanti king, where the Queen Mother was feeding the orphans of the city in the courtyard, we were able to go to the culture center, where artisans and craftsmen and women were selling their wares. It was much easier to try and make a purchase here because people were not tugging at us, calling "Sister, brother come look in my shop." Instead we were able to bargain with the vendors and work on saying no to the folk. Lunch followed, and we thanked the good Lord that we were able to taste something other than chicken, rice, and plantains - we were actually served spring rolls.

 Our golden bus then bounded toward two Ashanti craft villages, one known for its wood carving, and the other for traditional kente cloth. At the wood village, we had barely set foot onto the side of the road before our Ghanaian brothers came up to us, introducing themselves and telling us to visit their store. Fe and I quickly attached ourselves to each other, and then also to Anthony, Kathryn's son, so that we weren't pulled away somewhere. The beauty of the crafts amazed us as we checked in on each of the shops - animals, figurines, masks, symbols, and fertility dolls graced the shelves. After awhile, many of the vendors began to try and split us up, but before that happened, Anthony spoke up and said, "I have to stay with my wives - you know how women are!" to which many of the men nodded their heads in approval and understanding. Fe and I played along, and by the time we had made our way through the village, Fe was Sally the first wife, 19 and pregnant with one child back at home, and I was 17 year old second wife Suzie. It was much easier to deal with the men because of this with Anthony giving excuses to the men to keep us together, "The women have spent all of my money already - you know how they enjoy shopping" or "I have to keep the wives happy - if they want to go to your shop, we'll make our way there." At the kente cloth village, after visiting a workshop and spending more money than I would have liked (I hope you enjoy the gifts, Mom), men and children bombarded me as I tried to make my way to the golden bus, and Anthony walked out with me telling them we were from Russia and that I didn't speak any English. Of course they followed us all of the way to the bus, and there we cracked up at how our story is progressing. Next time we go shopping, I hope that we will speak in Spanish, just to mix things up a little bit more.

But in all seriousness, making up these fake lives and histories is just a way to cope with these encounters. The poverty and need that drives these men, women, and children who constantly break on us like waves is overwhelmingly thick like the pollution in the air. Desperate is the word that embodies the activity of the people - desperate to make a sale, desperate to get a cedi, desperate to get food, simply desperate to make their lives a little bit better. Too many emotions and feelings go through my mind even in my cushioned seat on the golden bus, let alone when I am breaking through the tides of sellers and beggars. Being Suzie, the second wife of Anthony and 17, allows me to not be Mayjean, to not feel like Mayjean does, to not see like Mayjean does, to not hurt like Mayjean does, because in reality I don't have the power to make a change in their lives besides giving a few cedis here and there; and that kills me, Mayjean.  

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All around Accra, and I assume much of Ghana, there are Christian phrases posted on everything from the windows of cars to titles of businesses. It has been one of the games we play while moving from destination to destination, much like the license plate game where you try to find all of the fifty US states on the highway. "Nothing but the blood of Jesus, "My Redeemer," and "I'm blessed" accompany everything from beauty salons to tire repair shops. "Try again" was on the back of one of our trotros that we had used on Tuesday, and we had joked about it on the bus later. But reflecting back on what has happened since arriving, "Try Again" has hit a chord in my heart and soul and mind.

Since Tuesday afternoon, there have been two events that have truly stuck out in my mind - driving through the slums and visiting the Elmina fishing village. Definitions of what I claim to be came into question. To begin with, when we were winding through the streets of Accra in the golden bus, I felt that I had violated sacred ground when we drove through the slums of the city. From my lofted seat in the air conditioned bus, I was ashamed because of how the people would stop whatever it was they were doing and look at us, mouth agape, in sincere astonishment. From what I was seeing, a bus as expensive and foreign as ours did not make its way through their neighborhood often just because of how dumbfounded they looked. And I was ashamed to be there. Not because I was in the slums at all, it was the cultural baggage that I have brought and carry with me. I brought guilt at being an American touring through someone's home and life; I brought pity at seeing the greatness of the poverty; I brought anger at feeling that if only I could be out with these people and working with them, then things would be different, and that I wasn't desecrating holy ground.

But with the visit to the fishing village yesterday and again today when we went to the Cape Coast and Elmina slave castles, I knew that there are more things that I need to work on. I know that I am a very gullible person, and I know that I look at pleasing others as a way to make myself feel good. And so yesterday when we were dropped into the pool of the Elmina fishing village with no Papa Jefferson or Dunkel to keep us afloat, reality hit me square in the face. We were all bombarded with words, offers, and stares as we stepped off of the luxurious golden bus, and it was difficult for me to make small talk and to take pictures when I knew that we were at a tourist site where the people were used to seeing foreigners, especially ones with lots of money. It was hard to walk through a sea of fishermen, and it was harder to speak to those who were older than me. It was a little easier to talk to the children who called out to me "Bruni" or foreigner, and to take their pictures. But the hardest part was when a man asked me to give money to his school who was starting a soccer team. He showed me a list of people who had given cedis to him, and I saw several of the names of my fellow classmates on there, and so I gave him a few bucks, although he had wanted more. I realized later that he may or may not have been telling the truth, but I was able to sleep later on that night. But then today, the man, Matthew, came up to me again when we were back at the village with a seashell on which he painted the message "To my dearest Sister Mayjean, Thank you very much. From your friend Matthew," and asked for anything more that I could spare; it was hard to make a decision. The night before we had discussed how it was stupid to just give out money to the people who are used to hustling others, but it is also hard for me to just ignore people when they seem to be sincere. I had made it to the bus without giving him a cedi, and it just felt wrong for me to not give him something, and so I handed our tour guide, Kofi, the cedi to give to him.

It has run through my mind that this might have been a waste of my money, but whatever happens to it, however Matthew spends it, I can walk away knowing so much more about myself than I had stepping off of the bus. I know now that it is not a bad thing to be uncomfortable and to say no to a vendor, and also that I can make the situation okay and be in control of it by asking questions and being willing to talk to the people because everyone wants to be acknowledged wherever a person is in life.

Spending time in the university's chalets and not locked into our own separate living areas we have had at the hotel has enabled us to be more open to our perceptions of each other, and to our perceptions of our own beings and situations. Because we are all experiencing some kind of stress, we are able to connect with each other. I hope that we will be able to encourage one another while we are here, and more importantedly we are able to be courageous in our choices and interactions with those who we share this experience with. We must keep in mind to "Try Again."

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Although I wasn't comprehending things yesterday (due to the lack of sleep and being dropped into a new environment), today things started coming into focus. We woke early this morning to ride from the Maglab to another hotel for breakfast in our golden charter bus, only to find out after a small walk around the block that it was in an accident and we had to take other transportation. In the place of the golden, air conditioned, bathroom equipped bus, we rode in local vans called trotros to our destination - and it was all the better for it. Instead of feeling an immense gap between ourselves and the Ghanaians that came with riding in the bus, we were with the current that brings Accra to life. We could hear the men and women call to passerby trying to sell their wares. We smelled the burning trash and wood that permeates the streets. We spoke with the people when we were waiting for traffic to progress. It was so beautiful to feel less alienated and alienating when riding in the trotros because the social barriers that scream "I'm a foreigner" were lessened to a degree. We were finally mixing with the people and culture. I had had the expectation that we were going to be tasting the Ghanaian culture here and there, and trotros have been one of the best morsels yet.

After breakfast, we went to the University of Ghana. At the University we attended a lecture of an African Studies professor where we learned about the diaspora and panafrican movement - how descendants of Africans are working to reconnect themselves with Africa and bring Africans together. A tour of the campus followed this - and this is where things started to become more real. My friend Seth and I, after making some purchases at the bookstore, decided to go up to one of the women selling drinks and sweets so that he could take a picture of her with her permission (the entire class is working on breaking colonialist practices such as the right to just take someone's picture without his or her approval). We walked up to the two women, and (on my part not so) simply began talking to them. After a few moments, I decided to buy one of the juices that I had seen so far in Ghana - Tampica, which is a citrus drink that is sort of like Sunny Delight. My friend proceeded to ask one of the women if he could take her picture, to which she told him he could if she could receive a copy. All four of us joked about it, and he was able to take her picture. I was glad to finally be able to talk to a Ghanaian besides those who are our tour guides (although they are very nice), and it was definitely a step for me because I have a very difficult time speaking to someone who I don't know, let alone someone from another city, country, and continent. This trip will be a way for me to grow into communicating with others, not stressing about perceptions and assumptions, and focusing on just being myself and expecting that from everyone else. I can't wait to see what the sun will bring with it tomorrow, especially because we will be moving to the Central Region and to Cape Coast.

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   This is probably one of the few times in my life where I've felt in limbo. At 8:50pm, five hours off from Virginia, I still am having a hard time believing and convincing myself that we're finally here in Accra, the capital of Ghana, even though we arrived early this morning. The sun greeted us as we got off of the plane and made our way through baggage claim, the money exchange, and customs. The air was -and still is- thick with heat and humidity - you can feel the moisture in the air.

   Once we were all collected, we headed to the Maglab Hotel, one of the finest in Accra. Peering out of the window and watching as people were beginning their day was to say the least interesting as it is something that I've never seen before. People were on the sides, in the middle, and crossing the roads every few feet, dodging cars, buses, trucks, and cycles as they made their way through the very present traffic. They were selling everything from baby strollers to irons, from food to tires. Football (or soccer) posters and merchandise are everywhere as well because Ghana is hosting the 2008 Africa Cup, which God willing we will be able to see. We arrived at the hotel after turning off of the main road onto several small dirt side streets. The aroma of something burning seems to be a part of the city, as we find it everywhere we go. It seems that they are burning their trash. At the hotel we took our luggage to our rooms where we slept, showered, and prepared ourselves for the evening orientation. The meal was delicious, and we were amazed at how inexpensive the drinks were - a liter of water is about 75 cents. And now, as we're about to head back to the hotel from the internet cafe there are still people roaming in the streets that aren't well lit. I wonder if they ever sleep - that sounds so good right now.  

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Happy New Year to everyone!
    I cannot believe that it is already 2008=Ghana!!! I've never traveled over the Atlantic Ocean before, and I've only ever dreamed of going to Africa. It's been in about every conversation that I've had with my friends, family, and church. Right now I'm getting ready to do laundry and finish up my shopping, as well as finish up my pre-term assignments. I'm slowly getting into school mode - having to write a 5-7 page paper wasn't exactly in my plans for break, but it's kept my mind sharp and has helped my brain from turning into mush.
    The idea that I'm finally going to be in Ghana in under 2 weeks is awesome - it came so quickly and I'm sure that it isn't going to really hit me until we're all on the airplane for the 13 hour ride. Well, I need to head into town to pick up some more things, so until next time I hope 2008 has started well for you and that you were able to get some rest over the holidays.

Wishing you love, prosperity, and joy for the New Year,
Mayjean

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