First Days

After an introduction to the NYU academic center, which is a few “blocks” (unlabeled dirt roads) from our residence, a local restaurant hosted a private luncheon where we sampled a range of local Ghanaian foods. Goat stew, chicken and rice, fried plantains…I ate these sour cornmeal balls (a spongy form of bread) and spicy mushroom and eggplant stew. It’s not the most vegetarian-friendly country, but I’ll get by. The afternoon entailed a trip to the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum, the burial ground of Ghana’s first president and also the location where he declared Ghana an independent country in 1957. It was a strange outing, very touristy and not particularly interesting (though he was a pretty amazing guy). It just didn’t really orient us to Accra or Ghana at all.

However, the following trip to the Makola Market was a total immergence into the bustling African city scene. The streets composing the “market” were littered with trash, the sidewalks cracked open to reveal streams of filthy water below, scrawny chickens darted around hoping not to have their necks broken. Most bizarre were the goods for sale – Tupperware, pots and pans, jeans, shoes, rope, diapers, fabrics – a wide range, but mostly household items that looked like they were made in the 80s. I did buy some extra hangers though (for 4 Cedis, which is comparable to 4 Dollars). The children in Accra are the most beautiful babes I have seen in any country. They LOVE “Obranis” (“foreigners”), and wave and dance for us, giggling in delight when we interact with them. Mothers wrap babies in fabric swaths tied so the baby straddles her lower back. At first, I reacted with sadness that the babies weren’t held close to their mother’s chest, but the style has grown on me as I’ve seen more delicious dozing babes peaceful as can be as mom can easily go about her work. The women are also striking here, in their beauty, poise, and vigorous role in trade. Girls and boys fill the streets, selling items like pouches of water, fried plantains, fresh fruit slices, smoked fish, maps, jewelry, DVDs, and so forth. But the girls, they carry their loads on their heads in enormous tin bowls. Women everywhere use their heads as shelves to transport all sorts of things, in quantities that seem impossible to balance, but they do.

We began our second full day (Sunday, June 29) with a brief tour (via the van) of the University of Ghana, located in the Northern area of Accra. The architecture was beautiful, though the maintenance of certain buildings clearly suffered. And its physical expanse was also impressive, the number of departments, etc. Looked like a lovely place to attend college! Afterwards we headed to "La Pleasure Beach" for our first day under the African sun. It was a gritty scene, as most beaches located near a main urban center are everywhere in the world, with lots of people and trash. Although I passed on swimming, most people went in and said the water was pretty warm and extremely salty (??). Some of the guys befriended Ghanaian soccer players and kicked the ball around for most of the afternoon. Just a typical beach day - napping, lounging, reading...not as typical to my experience were the consistent and insistent people selling goods (fruit, fish, jewelry, wooden figurines, game boards) or services (nail painting). They literally come up in your face and on your towel. If you make eye contact, politely saying "No, Thanks" and smiling, they are only encouraged to push you harder. It was tiresome.

Perhaps the most obnoxious feature of the experience thus far has been the hagglers who flock to us obvious-out-of-towners, aggressively pushing their racks of sunglasses, hand-sewn name bracelets, necklaces, etc. They are aggressive to the degree of harassment, about which you can imagine I’m not very tolerant. These boys essentially climbed into our vans on the first afternoon, pressing their faces against and banging on the windows. One tactic they use is to ask for a first name, and then they quickly sew the name onto the bracelet and return to that person, who did not indicate wanting to purchase anything, and guilt them into buying it anyway. This exact scenario was played out after lunch on our first day in town and I wouldn’t stand for it, stepping into the situation and fiercely telling the boy, repeatedly, that SHE IS NOT INTERESTED. We got in the van, and through the windows could read one of the guy’s friend’s lips cursing at me. NOT okay! We were perfectly safe, with the Ghanaian NYU guides, our van drivers, and our large group but it just felt awful. They are so persistent, and we later heard from some grad students studying here in another program this summer that the street sellers on that particular strip of road are the worst we’ll encounter. I hope so!