For our first week of “school”, lecturers speak on different topics each morning and we visit various key journalistic locations during the afternoons. On Monday, a vibrant professor from the University of Ghana shared an overview of Ghana’s history with us. Everyone really enjoyed her, she was very dynamic and fun, and spoke eloquently on her specialties: Slavery in Africa, African Diasporas, and Women in African History. She arrived an hour late, modeling typical Ghanaian timing! In her defense, the traffic has been particularly bad on Monday, as Tuesday was a national holiday so people were getting supplies or going out of town. It’s called Republic Day, the 1st of July, which is a sort of 4th of July (though their actual Independence Day is March 6th, 51 years ago this year). It marks the day they officially launched the republic state, entirely independent of British authority.
Other guests were less engaging, the professor who spoke about politics in Ghana especially. It didn’t help that we were crammed in a tiny room with no AC, which combined with the lack of coffee put me right back to sleep! Most depressing (but of most interest to me) was the presentation on arts and entertainment in Ghana, which, in effect, barely exist. Apparently, the mission to ‘Africanize’ Ghana after it gained independence in the late 50s was executed smoothly for a few decades but as technology developed and globalization exploded, the cultural currents dried up. Films/videos are a bust and broke industry in Ghana, theater and poetry relatively dead, and of course the government doesn’t care about the arts and the “Ministry of Culture” is considered totally inefficient. As is the case in the States, it all comes down to money. Ghana, too, is a “money-minded country” in which artists who cannot ignore their creative fervor struggle to survive. What entertainment does prosper? Imported music. Reggae, funk, and rap (primarily) are synthesized with Ghanaian elements, primarily just the lyrics. And thus, a huge absence of authentic Ghanaian culture, a loss of African roots. Its just foreigners like ourselves who seek the traditional arts! I was severely disappointed to hear this. But I took what little hints he gave to any lingering culture (which remains more in tact, I must add, in the most rural – and accordingly most destitute – regions) and re-manifested my distress in determination to discover genuine Ghanaian arts.
Our afternoons have been unfortunately chock-full of visits to what seems like every existing media group in the city. Many of us are pretty disillusioned by the situation. We went to: TV Africa, a private television station; the Daily Graphic, the primary state-owned newspaper in Ghana; JOY FM, a private radio station; the Daily Guide, a private newspaper; the Ghana Broadcasting Corporation, both its radio and television divisions, which are owned by the state; and Public Agenda, another newspaper. We missed one, too, which is rescheduled for Monday (at the Ghana News Agency). Overkill, much? It was pretty painful at times, this endless, over-heated, exhausting trek from one bland building to another of relatively similar nature. However, we happened upon a few gems, or at least note-worthy moments…Stay tuned.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Republic Day
ASANTÉ KATOKO!!! FABÚ!!! Happy (belated) Republic Day. We celebrated July 1 with the locals here in Accra on their holiday. About ten of us went to the brand-new football (soccer) stadium to watch two Ghanaian teams play for the President’s Cup. Initially it freaked me out, to be honest. While trying to obtain tickets, most of us felt people grabbing at our bags. Even though I clutched mine tightly to my torso, I later discovered someone had unzipped the side pocket. They didn’t take the Band-Aids or lip-gloss it contained, though. Probably not what they’d expected.
Once we got inside the arena, everything went uphill. Well, except for the rain that started falling as soon as we situated ourselves in pretty awesome seats, near center field. The game didn’t start for almost an hour and a half after we arrived, but it was actually kind of fun to get soaking wet (really refreshing after all the sweaty, muggy humidity!) and pal around with our neighbors. It was such a fun afternoon, in large part based on the encounters with Ghanaians out celebrating their day off and cheering on their team. And man, did they represent! We’d bought a few souvenirs outside that designated us Katoko fans, which turned out to be the right affiliation. Not only were they the best, but they seemed to have the largest fan base by far. Katoko means “porcupine” in Akan, and they were from the Asanté region of Ghana; their opponents were the Lions from Volta, the lake region. It was the first time we were totally immersed in the culture for a stretch of time, and it was exhilarating. Best of all, we were embraced wholeheartedly by the (mainly male) crowd. They had a ball with us, teaching us cheers, telling us about themselves, and bonding with us over “our” team’s small victories.
Before the game started (only ten minutes late, which is great timing for Ghana, where the frequent tardiness is referred to as being “on Africa/Ghana time”), the Vice President of Ghana received recognition and a marching band played. The game was engaging, both the action on and off the field. Katoko fans burst into cheers and songs frequently, all in Akan (one of the primary local dialects) but which we were told mostly praised God and asked for his grace. Everyone here is incredibly religious, and God has a hand in every matter and aspect of society.
Ultimately, our team won! The game was 0-0 through half time, then each team scored a goal in rapid succession at the start of the second half, and again towards the end. But the Katoko team showed their superiority, and the Lions their shortcoming, in the round of 5 penalty kicks. After declared the victors, Katoko fans went nuts celebrating. For some reason, we Americans received a huge amount of attention at this point, probably because we were so excited for their team too and it reinforced the magnificence of the occasion. The ride home offered just as much excitement, as our cabbie pressed his horn in celebration almost continuously. We waved our Katoko flags out the windows and hollered Katoko cheers as the people we drove by stared at us. Though their faces reflected shock at the sight of such strange wild white people, most broke out into amused and delighted smiles, recognizing our appreciation for and immersion in their country.
Once we got inside the arena, everything went uphill. Well, except for the rain that started falling as soon as we situated ourselves in pretty awesome seats, near center field. The game didn’t start for almost an hour and a half after we arrived, but it was actually kind of fun to get soaking wet (really refreshing after all the sweaty, muggy humidity!) and pal around with our neighbors. It was such a fun afternoon, in large part based on the encounters with Ghanaians out celebrating their day off and cheering on their team. And man, did they represent! We’d bought a few souvenirs outside that designated us Katoko fans, which turned out to be the right affiliation. Not only were they the best, but they seemed to have the largest fan base by far. Katoko means “porcupine” in Akan, and they were from the Asanté region of Ghana; their opponents were the Lions from Volta, the lake region. It was the first time we were totally immersed in the culture for a stretch of time, and it was exhilarating. Best of all, we were embraced wholeheartedly by the (mainly male) crowd. They had a ball with us, teaching us cheers, telling us about themselves, and bonding with us over “our” team’s small victories.
Before the game started (only ten minutes late, which is great timing for Ghana, where the frequent tardiness is referred to as being “on Africa/Ghana time”), the Vice President of Ghana received recognition and a marching band played. The game was engaging, both the action on and off the field. Katoko fans burst into cheers and songs frequently, all in Akan (one of the primary local dialects) but which we were told mostly praised God and asked for his grace. Everyone here is incredibly religious, and God has a hand in every matter and aspect of society.
Ultimately, our team won! The game was 0-0 through half time, then each team scored a goal in rapid succession at the start of the second half, and again towards the end. But the Katoko team showed their superiority, and the Lions their shortcoming, in the round of 5 penalty kicks. After declared the victors, Katoko fans went nuts celebrating. For some reason, we Americans received a huge amount of attention at this point, probably because we were so excited for their team too and it reinforced the magnificence of the occasion. The ride home offered just as much excitement, as our cabbie pressed his horn in celebration almost continuously. We waved our Katoko flags out the windows and hollered Katoko cheers as the people we drove by stared at us. Though their faces reflected shock at the sight of such strange wild white people, most broke out into amused and delighted smiles, recognizing our appreciation for and immersion in their country.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday Soccer
On Sunday evening, some boys from the neighborhood came by our residence to play soccer with us in the courtyard. I think they were brothers, the eldest – Elvis – maybe 15 or 16, the middle 13 or 14, and the youngest 10 (I can’t recall the other two boys’ names). Soccer, or “football” to be locally accurate, is huge here. I totally fell for these boys, who were really good, and so polite and sweet – apologizing whenever they got the ball away from me, or accidentally kicked at me or stepped on my (bare) feet. I adored the feeling of kicking around a soccer ball again, which I haven’t done since probably high school. Squatting down, squaring off, getting my aggressive defensive on. It was exhilarating. And came back to me really naturally. However, the humidity here lessens the appeal of playing too frequently. A shower really must follow a scrimmage…
The soccer theme continued into the night with the final Euro championship game between Spain and Germany on the television. A few of us went to a local coffee shop (which is more like a café/bar, that actually only serves $3 cups of instant coffee – a serious letdown) where a small crowd of Germans were screeching at the screen while we huddled in a corner having dinner. Pretty intense. I do love watching soccer though – it’s one of the few sports I enjoy following. We didn’t stay ‘til the end though, which was wise, as Spain won and the Germans probably freaked out!
The soccer theme continued into the night with the final Euro championship game between Spain and Germany on the television. A few of us went to a local coffee shop (which is more like a café/bar, that actually only serves $3 cups of instant coffee – a serious letdown) where a small crowd of Germans were screeching at the screen while we huddled in a corner having dinner. Pretty intense. I do love watching soccer though – it’s one of the few sports I enjoy following. We didn’t stay ‘til the end though, which was wise, as Spain won and the Germans probably freaked out!
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!
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!
Arrival!
We arrived on Friday morning, at 8:30 (3:30 NYC time!), and got to the NYU residence about two hours later. It is, as I had been forewarned, rather extravagant. Security guards posted at the entry to the gated residence let the buses (available to us from 8am-9pm) in and out. It consists of four connected houses, each of which has an enormous common room, dining room, full kitchen, downstairs bedrooms and two more upstairs. My roommate and I share a huge room with more closet space than we have stuff for, a bathroom almost half the size of the bedroom, and a balcony! I’ve already (as I even anticipated) found myself struggling with the incongruities of the NYU privilege and separatism from the local culture. For example, our first meal was at an American restaurant called Frankie’s, air-conditioned and ultra-modern, a huge TV playing music videos, and filled mostly with European and Asian tourists. I am at the same time grateful to feel secure in our accommodations and the precision taken in orienting us to what is indeed quite a different culture than what we’re used to.
Although I’m thrilled to be here and eager to really launch into exploration of the neighborhood (we are in an area just east of Accra), city, and country, I also have to admit that I am somewhat frustrated with the agenda thus far. “Orientation weekend” sends me back to the painful planned socialization I could barely endure in high school, freshman year of college, and now in the last year of my undergrad experience it’s really too much. I’m not big on group activity, preferring independence at every point, and to couple this disinclination with our privileged American NYU status I feel rather uncomfortable. But nonetheless, it is just the first weekend, now technically the third day in Africa, I have absorbed a lot already and there is so much ahead. Once the rhythm of our weeks picks up I believe my discomfort will pass.
Although I’m thrilled to be here and eager to really launch into exploration of the neighborhood (we are in an area just east of Accra), city, and country, I also have to admit that I am somewhat frustrated with the agenda thus far. “Orientation weekend” sends me back to the painful planned socialization I could barely endure in high school, freshman year of college, and now in the last year of my undergrad experience it’s really too much. I’m not big on group activity, preferring independence at every point, and to couple this disinclination with our privileged American NYU status I feel rather uncomfortable. But nonetheless, it is just the first weekend, now technically the third day in Africa, I have absorbed a lot already and there is so much ahead. Once the rhythm of our weeks picks up I believe my discomfort will pass.
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