In the past two days, I think I may have walked about thirty
feet. I have been sitting/laying in my bed for the rest of the time. There’s
definitely something wrong with me, it doesn’t take my scientific background to
know that much. I have a pretty significant amount of mosquito bites, most of
them on my legs. Recently, more began to show up on my arms. The ones that don’t
itch have faded into a strange yellow hue and it makes me look like I’ve been
the subject of a marble tossing match gone wrong.
I feel weak. When I stand, my legs ache, my entire body
aches. My Ithacalves, my proud and beautiful rocks of leg muscle, are beginning
to deteriorate. It saddens me. I think that may be the product of how little I’ve
eaten in the past few days. Yesterday wasn’t a very good day. I spent a lot of
the day alone, gratefully, and I spent most of it trying to overcome this
emotional state I’ve been in. I woke up in a sweat, but also cold. Interesting.
I briefly skyped with my parents and my heart leapt when they brought my over
to Gary, who was indulging in a Milkbone. What a ham. I began reading and
playing Solitaire on and off. I’ve gotten pretty good at Solitaire, with a
not-bad winning percentage of 9%. Pretty impressive, I’d say.
I didn’t eat much yesterday. I took my malaria medicine with
trepidation. It went down alright. After not eating for a very long time, I
figured my body should take in some form of nutrient so I popped a Centrum. I
lie down, and about an hour later I find myself running outside. I threw up
again. Second time in less than 24 hours. I wasn’t feeling well at all. I drank
some water and waited for Frieda to come back to the apartment. I had to find
something to eat. I had no idea how to actually cook anything; Frieda has
things organized in such a way that it’s very hard to find things unless you’re
her. Also, I was a little worried about dealing with a propane tank with
absolutely no experience. The only thing I was left with was a pineapple I
bought at the market a day earlier. I heard horror stories about fruits and
vegetables in foreign countries, but I think I was beyond the point of caring.
What’s more illness on top of what I already had? I took the risk. I grabbed
the only knife, a mini-form of a machete, and went outside. I had no idea how
to cut it, so I put the pineapple on my lap horizontally and started to attempt
to carve it. I was pathetic, I’ll admit. Here I was, trying to cut a pineapple
on my leg, having eaten nothing all day and running on vapors. One of the
neighbors passed by, went inside her house and brought out a cutting board and
bowl. She had the pineapple chunked in less than two minutes. She was my hero
of the day yesterday. Once everything was cut, I was disappointed to see that
there was very little pineapple in the bowl, maybe a third of a pound. I went
to my lair/bed and ate it all in about ten minutes, even the core. I finished
and hoped that some entity would grant the pineapple safe.
On a side note, I want to point out that the pineapple was
incredible. It was white, which I thought was pretty odd, but very juicy and
sweet. I wish all pineapples tasted like that one.
Frieda came back about two hours after I finished the
pineapple and made me some rice. She put a spicy sauce on top. I picked around
the sauce, knowing that it would amplify my nausea. I had about three bites
until I was full. I spent the rest of the night as I did the entire day,
restless but tired. What an oxymoron that is. The night was warm and my
mosquito net didn’t help cool me down. I woke up in the middle of the night
with the net draped over my feet. Being too tall for my mattress certainly isn’t
the best bite prevention I can think of. I fixed it and returned under my
sheet, sweating but also chilly. Another oxymoron for you. I fell into a deep
sleep for the first time in a long time and woke up in extreme pain. My muscles
ached; I slept in a very strange position. I rolled my neck, trying to somehow
readjust it.
I woke up sweating, despite the cool day. I felt a warm
sensation on my arm and discovered that I had been on my right forearm. There
is a very large rash around it that concerns me. I tried researching potential causes
for painful rashes but the internet did not have an answer. It drew a line
around the concentrated area and the outside and plan on tracking its growth
(and hopeful shrinking).
I waited a few hours before taking my malaria medicine,
looking at the bottle once an hour or so in fear. I was terrified that this
would begin the vicious cycle of illness and nausea. The nausea set in before I
took the medication, but afterwards it definitely got worse. I drank a lot of
water. A few hours later, I was panting, breathing heavy, terrified that I
would throw up again. I began gagging, but managed to keep everything inside
for today. I remained nauseous for the rest of the day, even now.
Frieda’s mother visited the apartment today and brought a
loaf of homemade bread. I briefly went to the next room to say hello, but
couldn’t physically stand for more than five minutes. I apologized to her
mother that I couldn’t socialize and retreated to my bed. Another day of
Solitaire for me. Later, Frieda brought me a chunk of the bread to eat and I
slowly ate the entire thing. It was perfect. You could taste the love. I wish
she never gave me that bread, because nothing in Ghana will ever compare. I was
happy and the bread was staying down.
I took a look at my arm again after feeling some pain. It
looked as if the rash was branching out and it is beginning to (as I write
this) hurt my entire arm. Is this normal, to have a rash affecting the
functionality of a limb? I certainly hope so. I’ll be going to the doctor’s
office tomorrow to see if I can be healed. Until then, I’ll continue to play
Solitaire and hope for the best. Someone please eat a potato for me, I really
miss them.
Hi there. I hope everything with you is well. Let me catch
you up on what’s been happening with me.
On Thursday, we met back up with the med students and walked
around to get food. The power was out in the whole city for the remainder of
the night, so only one place was really open and all they were serving was
white rice. Fine by me. We all ordered and went into the maze of the restaurant
in order to sit down. A lantern was given to us and we all ate. They asked me
questions about how I got here, and they were all pretty marveled that I’m here
by myself. “I would be so lonely,” commented one student. Gee, I never thought
of it that way. I felt a tinge of sadness but I pushed it back.
Yesterday, I was supposed to go to Accra with the Care Net
employees but there was a discrepancy with the car so we ended up never going.
I was showered and dressed by 5:45 and I took my malaria medicine. The same
feeling I had a few days prior came back, and I instantly felt sick. I couldn’t
believe it, would this be a regular thing? It’s not like I can’t take my
medicine, the alternative is significantly worse. In that moment, we all
thought we were going to Accra so I tried to eat some breakfast and only ended
up being able to stomach one bite before gagging. I lie down and fell asleep. I
woke up around 10:00am and assumed that they either went to Accra without me,
or the whole thing fell apart (turns out it was the latter). I still felt sick
and tried to drink water. I drank a liter. I was talking to the employees, who
came over for lunch, and told them about the love of my life, Gary the dog.
They were really interested and laughed at the pictures. That sting of sadness
returned, but I couldn’t push it back. I wanted to cry. I missed my dog more
than I’ll ever care to admit, and I missed being home.
I didn’t want to eat; my stomach wasn’t up to it. Most
Ghanaian food is really heavy, and that’s not what a girl wants when she’s
nauseous. I wanted toast. I wanted peanut butter. I wanted a Ninja Turtle Popsicle
from the Skippy truck. I wanted to be home. I wanted chicken noodle soup, not
banku with spicy okra. I couldn’t shake this feeling. I read for a while and a
tear or two escaped my eyes. I told myself to stop. Frieda came into the room
and asked if I wanted to go to the market. I needed a good distraction, so I
said yes. We left and I immediately regretted what I was wearing. I chose a
maxi dress for the day, anticipated a good portion of my day in an air
conditioned car. Whoops.
We walk to the market, and I’m already drenched in sweat. It’s
an abnormal amount, though. I keep moving forward. I feel weak from not eating
all day and see a woman selling corn cobs (a relatively common street food, as
I’ve noticed). I ask Frieda about the details of that and figure that would be
my dinner. She sold two boiled corn cobs for fifty pesewas, roughly a quarter.
We buy a pineapple (it’s my favorite fruit, after all) and Frieda gets a skirt.
We greet the med students once more and we are walking all over the market. It’s
huge and chaotic; if you’re curious to see it check out Google (I was afraid to
bring my camera). In the most crowded parts of the market, trash was
everywhere. Trenches were full of waste water. The market took on different
scents as you passed the vendors. Some were selling soaps (smelled scarily like
Lush), some selling fruits (my favorite smell of all), but the closer you got
to the middle, the more every good smell was overpowered by the smell of sewage
and trash.
I was feeling very weak at this point and wanted to leave.
We walked down a corner to the meat section, and I see a bunch of live animals.
Chickens in the hundreds, feet and wings tied. People are calling off prices.
Goats are corralled into makeshift fences. This was where you buy your meat. I
didn’t want to see. Animals hold a very special place in my heart, and this
seemed to be it for me. My desire to cry amplified. We left soon after and I
held it together for a record amount of time. We get back to the apartment and
I immediately change into shorts and a tank top. I eat my corn, which wasn’t
half bad. I started crying during my only meal of the day. I told myself to
stop. I was alone then, and only cried when I was alone. I didn’t want Frieda
to get concerned. I finish my corn and lay down to read. A few more tears fall.
It was going to be a long day. At the market, I bought a Nigerian movie (I saw
a few commercials for them and they’re pretty much the cheesiest thing in
existence). Frieda told me to make sure it works, and so I popped it in. It
worked, and I watch one of the movies (the disc came with 10 movies in one). It
was so bad. It was a great distraction. After the movie, I got on the internet
and shot out a few emails. It was then that the crying really began. It was
dark in the room, the only sense of privacy I had. I couldn’t go outside, there
are people (and mosquitoes) everywhere. I could go in the other room, but that’s
silly. I felt sad. I feel sad. I miss home; I miss a lot of things.
I had no idea that culture shock would hit me this hard. I
want to see my dog. I want to sit on a couch. I want to see my reflection in a
mirror. I want to take a shower and wash my hands. I want to eat more than once
a day. I want cold water. I don’t want to be afraid of walking outside once the
sun sets. I want to see my family and my friends. I want to be home. I started
crying, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to go home. I was living in the worst
conditions I’ve ever been exposed to. I feel ill all the time, and I dread
peeing in the afternoon because of the sheer stench of the pit below the
toilet. I miss the option of choice, being able to choose if I want to use the
internet, being able to choose to have a light on or off, being able to choose
what to make for dinner (and then have the resources to go get the ingredients
and make it). I think the med student said it perfectly: “I would be so lonely.”
It was only after she said it that I realized how alone I feel. I am living
with someone who has lived in the Volta region of Ghana her entire life. She
can’t even begin to understand what is going on in my mind. She has no idea
what I left in America. I think things would be easier if I was with someone,
anyone to share this awful feeling of culture shock with.
I cried for a while and I developed a really bad headache.
My eyes felt like rocks and I thought it was time to lie down. I pulled the
mosquito net down and continued crying, not being able to sleep. The mosquito
net does a really great job of insulating my heat in an already-boiling room. I
spent a long time trying to find a comfortable spot. I pulled my sheet over me
in an attempt to comfort myself. It only made me warmer. I fell asleep for a
little while, and woke up to my headache. It seemed to have migrated to the
back of my head. My whole skull was pounding and I felt like I was running a
fever. Something wasn’t right. I drank a few sips of water and began to gag. I
threw up and ran outside. I threw up about a liter of water and began to shake
a little. I was worried. Frieda heard the door slam and brought me a sachet of
water. I drank a little but felt too weak to finish it. I tried to lie down but
was even sicker. I went into the other room with my computer and tried to find
potential doctors’ offices in the Akatsi area. I also read the terms and
conditions of my travel insurance for leaving the country. I felt terrible.
I wanted to leave Ghana. I regretted coming. I haven’t felt
this alone in a long time. I began crying again and the terrible headache escalated
to near-migraine status. I turned off my computer. The heat in the sleeping
room was unbearable and I figured that a few more mosquito bites (because I
already have about forty) wouldn’t kill me, so I let up the mosquito net and
some relatively fresh air circulated. I fell asleep only then, at 3:00am.
And so here is where you come in. What’s going on with me? I
feel like if I left Ghana, I would be a failure. I would consider myself one,
anyway. There’s something wrong with me, but I can’t quite pin what it is. It
only seems to happen at night, though. I’m not sure what’s going on. How is it
that I can handle any problem thrown at me at school, but am having a very hard
time living here? Will this ever pass? I don’t usually ask for help, but I
think this is a time that I will be. My only steady form of communication is
through texting. I can receive unlimited text messages to my phone, but I can
only send out 50, which is reserved for my mother (no offense). However, if you
ever felt like sending me a text here and there, I won’t respond but you will
make my day. Is that pathetic?
I’m sorry to have taken on a somber tone in this post. This
is about my experience, and culture shock is a pretty huge part of an abroad
experience, yes? Hopefully I overcome this.
It’s been a crazy few days over here in the blazing heat of
Ghana. I’ll give you a quick
recollection of the past few days. Be forewarned, this is going to be a huge
post.
Sunday Night
I went out with a few AIESEC members to get some food. We
ended up taking a strange way through town that I hadn’t previously taken before. Usually, we take a left out of the house in
search of civilization, but on Sunday we took a right. It was dark outside and
the streets aren’t that well-lit so I was praying that I didn’t roll my ankle
on the dirt roads I was walking on. We turned the corner and the entire street
was drowning in the sound of bullfrogs - it was deafening. I hoped that they didn’t jump on me, warning
who I was with that I would scream. We
walked down a shortcut, through this sketchy alley. A lot of people smiled at
me and shook my hand. I heard the word obruni
more than once for sure. We end up at an ice cream place, which was actually
gelato. They call it ice cream, but based on the size of scoops and the
consistency it was unmistakably the delicious Italian treat. I was excited.
This would be the first cold food I would eat since coming here, and
considering that I was sopping in sweat, it was more than welcome. I browsed
the flavors and noticed a strange one called Zabajone. It was light brown,
almost the color of a latte. I asked to try a sample after she told me it was
red wine ice cream. I was beyond curious. It tasted slightly like red wine, but
the cream dominated the flavor. I don’t think I would eat a lot of it, so I
ordered a strawberry milkshake. It wasn’t very thick, but the cold was perfect.
I was so happy. Sitting in air conditioning and sipping a milkshake.
On the way back, I was told that I had to lead the way. I
was nervous, I should have paid more attention to my surroundings. Luckily for
me I was taught how to identify my surroundings and what to do in case I get
lost. during one of my environmental classes (thanks, Sentinels). If I could
get my way out of the woods, surely I would be able to find my way back to the
house. I was successful. The frogs were even louder on the way back, mostly
because it was darker outside. I took a video so you guys could hear it. Don’t
pay attention to me, I was terrified that one was going to jump out of the
bushes.
Monday
I was woken up at around 9:00am and told that I was going to
be picked up to leave for my internship at 10:00am. I was extremely tired but
managed to get ready and entirely packed in an hour. It got to be around 10:30,
and I took my copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy out of my
backpack. I read, napped, and played Scramble on my phone alternately. I was
told that the rain was causing delay and that my pickup should be soon. It was
for this reason that I didn’t leave the house, or my room, all day. I was
waiting for something that actually never came. Hours later, it was decided
that I was going to be picked up tomorrow morning. Care Net Ghana’s policy is
that their employees and volunteers can’t drive after dark, and if I was picked
up when they arrived in Accra, nighttime would soon follow. The time was
6:30pm. I had read and napped all day, wasting an entire day in essence. I
hadn’t eaten at all, and I thought that if I didn’t eat I might regret it
later. I asked the people in the house where I might find some food, and they
told me to go to the place I ate before.
It would be my first time venturing out alone. I’m not sure
that in an ideal world, I would have chosen the nighttime to do so, but I
really had no choice. I sprayed on some bug repellent, grabbed my purse, and
left. I walked down the now-familiar road and walked quickly. It was a crowded
night and it was quite evident that I wasn’t a local. Every child that saw me
stopped and stared, yelling obruni
excitedly. I smiled, and kept on my way. I reached the food stand, ordered some
rice, and left. Turning on the side road, I checked to make sure that I wasn’t
being followed. Ghana is a pretty trustworthy country, but the most common
crime is theft. Considering that I have no Ghanaian phone, I didn’t want to get
robbed. I only ate about a quarter of
the rice until I was full, noticing that a few nights prior I had eaten the
entire box without a blink of an eye. My stomach had most certainly shrunk. I
attempted my first Skype session that night, with decent results. I was
receiving picture and sound clearly, but apparently my friend wasn’t so lucky.
After seeing a screenshot from his computer, I looked like a nuclear disaster
victim behind frosted glass. I promise that’s not what I look like in real life.
My friend decided to do something especially cruel to me and
indulge in ice cream. I’ve never been angrier. How dare he, eat ice cream in
front of someone sweating every drop of water she drinks. I pointed that out to
him, he smiled, and continued doing it. He was instigating, learning from the
best (me), and I told him that the next time we’re together I’ll be happily
beating him with my signature weapon: a sock full of nickels.
Tuesday
I wake up the next morning to my alarm, set at 8:30. I
repack what I took out the day before, and get dressed. I took my malaria
medication, and for some reason it didn’t go down right. I felt ill, even more
so knowing that I had a pretty significant car ride in my near future. The
AIESEC members come to my room asking if I’m ready to leave, and I say yes. We
grab my stuff and go outside. I meet the Care Net employees who pick me up and
we head to downtown Accra to exhchange money. The way there was horrific, the
roads were especially bumpy. I’m not sure if that was because the roads were
actually as bad as I imagined them or because I was already feeling sick from
my malaria medication earlier. I felt my stomach roll during every bump. Some
of the holes in the road produced bounces that caused me to hit my head on the
ceiling of the truck I was in. I wasn’t necessarily in the best shape.
Yup, this is every road. [davestravelcorner]
I had to pay for my
housing up front, and there was a discrepancy. Originally, and in the AIESEC
papers, I was required to pay $100 per month for housing. Come to find out, I
need to pay 15 cedi per day, and at 41 days, it adds up pretty quickly. The
total I owed was 630 cedi, which is about $315, and significantly more money
than I expected to pay. Because of that, I also took out some money from an
ATM, expecting that where I would be going would be a little more remote than
the capital.
During the money exchange, I began to feel extra ill. Disclaimer: don’t read this paragraph if you
don’t like to read about vomiting, just skip over to the next paragraph. I asked the woman I was with if there was a
bathroom nearby, and she said yes. She strolled (very slowly, might I add) over
to the gas station attendant, and I followed her. I began dry-heaving in the
middle of the pumps, the most populated part of that particular gas station.
Naturally. She got a restroom key but my body couldn’t wait, and I vomited. I
kept it all in my mouth, hoping that no more would come so I didn’t have to
vomit all over the gas station attendant. It would be bad enough if I was down
the street from my house if this happened, but I was in the middle of Accra,
Ghana: a place that is very foreign. So, we walk to the bathroom and I have
vomit in my mouth. I looked so beautiful, I assure you. I get in the room,
empty my mouth out and wash it with some of my drinking water. I hope that my
malaria medication had fully absorbed before that happened, or else I was in
trouble.
I was headed for Akatsi (ah-kaht-she), a town east of Accra.
It was about a three hour drive. Getting out of Accra was terrifying, the roads
were as bad as I anticipated. I felt much better after the gas station fiasco,
not feeling ill during the dramatic road bumps. There were people on every road
selling anything you could imagine. I found out their official titles are
hawkers. I saw an expanse of highway absent of sellers, only to see the sign
“No Hawkers” plastered everywhere. I put the two occurrences together. We get
on the highway, and the amount of hawkers decreases as we leave the city. The
highway was significantly smoother, with the exception of a few strategically
placed bumps in order to control speeding. If you go too fast on these bumps,
you’ll regret it. They’re almost like speed bumps, but inverted. They’re hard
to see unless you know what to look for and after I while, I prepared myself
for the bumps as I began to recognize them.
On the way to Akatsi, I noticed a few things. Once we were
outside Accra, it was a completely different world, one without buildings.
Short trees, low-lying to the ground, were sparsely arranged amongst the plains
of grass and red sand.
I saw a herd of wild cows (believe it or not), led by a
gigantic bull with horns three feet long. The cows were extremely skinny,
compared to the fat American cows I have seen previously. There were cows of
all ages and sizes in the herd. It was a strange sight. I noticed small things
on the way, thinking clearer in the air conditioning. Most of the cars in Ghana
still have antennae, which I found to be interesting. I also heard a commercial
promoting internet with “the blazing fast speed of 21mbps,” something I have
yet to fact-check to determine if that internet is indeed fast. Most of the
stores, taxis, or anything owned privately, referenced Jesus or God. Ghana is a
very religious nation, and they definitely make it known. Taxis on the back
could say “God is good” or “Jesus saves.” Some stores have it directly
incorporated into their names, such as “Blood of Jesus Food,” or “We are God’s
Children Shop,” or even “Try Jesus Fashion.” There were signs all over the
highway in white and red saying “Overspeeding kills! [number] Died Here!” I saw
two, and the numbers were 6 and 18. I also saw huge termite mounds, six or
seven feet high. Termite mounds baffle my mind, how something so small can
create a structure taller than a man is beyond me.
Yup. [ghanatravels.wordpress.com]
I passed through several towns before arriving at Akatsi.
The names include: Dawa, Addokope, Kasseh Ada, Vume, Tefle, Sokope, and finally
Akatsi. We passed over the Lower Volta Bridge, which allowed people to cross
Lake Volta. It only took about five minutes to pass through the main road of
each town. There were markets on each side of the road in each town, selling
the same basic goods: bread, peanuts, fruits, and cell phone recharge cards.
We arrived in Akatsi and stopped at a house to pick up a
mattress for me. The driver went in a house, and brought one out for me,
actually two. They were twin sized, and roughly put together they were the size
of a comfortable mattress topper for a dorm bed. Alone, it’s not much. We drove
to a house, and got out of the car. Thinking that this would be where I would
live, I got out and tried to get my things. We met the Care Net employees in
Akatsi, two males and one female. That was where Sebastian and Ernesto lived,
Frieda and I both got in the car and drove to where I would be living. About
five minutes later, we drive down a very bumpy dirt road into a village. Chickens
are running all around and I see a few goats cross here and there. We turn and
stop the car. We get out and I go inside. The building has four apartments, one
belonging to the landlady and three for the tenants. We go into the apartment
and I see one room, roughly 15 feet by 15 feet and a door. This definitely
wasn’t the AIESEC house. She opens the other door and places my bed down on the
floor. I would be living in a two room shelter, with the rough combined dimensions
of my living room. Frieda helps me set up my mosquito net and I notice that
there is a tear in the corner, she says that it wouldn’t be a problem. I can
fit my hand through it and I hoped that no mosquito would be smart enough to
check every inch of the net.
She shows me where the restroom and shower is, which was
around the corner of the house. It was a small house with two rooms for
showering (one for the tenants, one for the landlady) and two toilets (one for
the tenants, one for the landlady). There was no running water, only a pipe
outside that “sometimes flowed with water, but only in the morning.” This would
be another week of bucket showers for me. The toilet was shaped like a toilet,
but instead of closing off, it was a big hole leading to a large pit of sewage
at the bottom. The smell isn’t the most pleasant, I will say. The truck dropped
Frieda and me off in town to get some lunch. I got plain rice, not wanting to
get anything too crazy because of earlier events, for 1 cedi.We walked a ways
down to look for the truck, and I noticed that I was being stared at the whole
time. Ghanaians in the Volta region speak a different dialect than people in
Accra, so I had yet to find out what their obruni
equivalent is. We find the truck and head back to the house. I paid the Care
Net employee named Sheila my housing fee, and she said that should be back to
bring me to Hohoe sometime next week. She then left.
I got on my phone and scanned it for internet. Nothing. I
asked if there was internet, but I was laughed at. This was going to be a long
week. The power went out soon after and stayed out for most of the night. I
relaxed for a little bit, talking to Frieda. It was obvious that she was lonely;
living by yourself with no entertainment can’t be that fun. We walked into town
for a bit to buy some things for dinner, and she explained to me that she’s
willing to cook for me if I help out with paying for groceries. She was telling
me that a lot of roadside stands in Akatsi are super expensive (5 cedis for a
cup of tea) and aren’t that clean a lot of the time. She said that she’s seen
people get typhoid from the food here, and I’m not about that lifestyle (I much
prefer Yellow Fever or Influenza). I would like to take a lot from this trip,
but a debilitating disease is most certainly not one of them. She buys some
eggs, bread, and other things. We go to a small grocery shop (I’ll have to get
a picture of it because it’s definitely not Wegman’s) and I get another bag of
water. I also pay for this hot chocolate that Frieda serves for breakfast.
We head back to the house, and it’s nighttime. The power is
still out by this point so I use my phone as a flashlight. She sprays the
bedroom with insecticide and the “hall” and we sit outside on the bench for a
little while. I have mosquito lotion and spray on me as well. She tells me
about how incredibly male-dominated the Ghanaian lifestyle is, amongst other
things. If you’d like to know more about that, ask me later (or maybe I’ll make
it a post when I have a steady internet connection).The power came back on
around 8:00pm and I am happy. I change into pajamas soon after and read for a
little bit. We both went to sleep around 9:00pm from exhaustion, the heat
definitely drains you.
It was my first night sleeping under a mosquito net. I tuck
everything under my mattress and curse the tear in the net, hoping that nothing
came through. There is no fan in the house at all, so the air was completely
stagnant. My body heat seemed to be trapped in the net as well, and I was restless
the whole night. I tossed and turned, quite literally, each time being awake
enough to make sure that I don’t disturb the mosquito net. It gets to be around
1:00am and I had to pee. Worst timing ever. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I
stealthily crawl out of my net and head to the outhouse. It was locked, not
because someone was using it, but because they take the key out of the door
before people go to sleep. I had no idea what to do, so I sucked it up and peed
in the grass. I felt a drop of rain on my face and went inside, tucked
everything back in and awoke at 6:30 to my alarm.
Wednesday
Frieda wakes up very early, and isn’t the best roommate when
it comes to that. She bangs pots around and plays music. I was awake earlier
than 6:30, but I tried to get sleep in while I could. I got up and grabbed my
towel, shampoo, conditioner, and soap. Frieda gave me a bucket (and a smaller
bucket for pouring) and I went to the shower. It was then that I wished I
brought two pairs of sandals with me, because I hate exposing my Birkenstocks
to any amount of water. I take off my Birkenstocks and begin taking the third
bucket shower of my life. I had a smaller bucket this time, perhaps three
gallons. By this time I’d like to say that I’m pretty great with bucket showers.
I know how much water each item requires. Shampoo is pretty easy to wash out,
soap lingers for a while, and conditioner is usually the water waster. I almost
wish I didn’t need conditioner, but if I don’t use it my hair becomes so frizzy
and brittle that I’m afraid I’ll lose it all. I had water to spare by the end
of my shower so I just poured it over myself, remembering what being cool feels
like.
We went to the community called Agbedrafor. The car wasn’t
available to travel, so we had to take turns with the motorbike to get there.
It was my first time on a motorbike, and it was a bumpy ride. It was a great
time, the wind was so perfect. I was told to be careful on the right side
because that is where the exhaust pipe is. They showed me their scars from
being burned by pipes in the past. Motorbikes are the only practical mode of
transportation in remote towns like Akatsi; they are the only vehicle that can
successfully navigate the side roads in the villages without breaking down.
When I arrived, Ernetso was already there and Sebastian left again to pick up
Frieda. I walk towards him and take a seat, noticing that around 50 women from
the village came to the program. I was no help at all, mostly because I can’t
speak any Ghanaian dialect. People in the Volta region speak mostly Ewe
(ay-way), which sounds absolutely nothing like English. I smiled and laughed
when everyone else did, and clapped along with the crowd. I did not follow the
conversation at all. I was filled in during the presentation that the women
were all for the empowerment and decided to elect officers then and there. It
was pretty cool to watch. I was told that the women were emphasizing to each
other that this committee should accept the view of everyone and put no one
down. It reminded me of RA training, oddly enough. With a successful event,
Care Net organized a time to come back to conduct the training of the entire
group. We left shortly after. I was dropped off at where I was staying. Frieda
and I went into town and bought some rice from a vendor. We went back to the
house and Frieda cooked it. I went outside, where it was a little cooler, and
read some more of my book. I was still full from breakfast, so I asked for a
little bit of food. She gave me an entire bowl of rice with pepe, and I ended
up not being able to finish. My stomach has shrunk pretty significantly since
being here. I didn’t anticipate eating again for the rest of the day.
I was exhausted. The night of restlessness combined with the
already-busy day made me lethargic. I thought about napping but before I could,
Sebastian and Ernesto came over. I felt rude napping while people were over, so
I stayed out. They were working on designing a poster for the various communities
with TBAs (Traditional Birthing Attendants). Considering that most of the
communities have a population that is illiterate, they were trying to think of
a poster that was mostly pictorial. None of us are artists, and they were
coming up with pretty detailed descriptions of these situations. I suggested
that photographs were used instead of crude drawings, I thought that they would
give a clearer description of what was going on. So, if that happens, I might
end up being a model for the poster in which I would play a pregnant mother.
Watch out for those pictures, kids. They should be good.
At around 4:00pm, we left. We were going to meet up with
American medical students that are working with Care Net at the Akatsi
hospital. We walked because they wanted to show me the other side of town. We
started walked. I have no idea how long we walked but before I knew it, we were
in another town. We stopped by a yellow building that was being renovated and I
was told that it was the future office for Care Net in Akatsi. We walked
further down the road and turned at a sign that read “Volta Paradise Hotel.”
This is where the students were staying. They came down the road and we met.
There were around twelve to fifteen of us walking at that point, much like that
big herd of cows I saw on my way to Akatsi. The group walking pace was
unbearably slow; I kept walking too far ahead and having to stop. We walked
very far, so far I don’t even know how to quantify it (I’ll check Google Maps
and see if I can map out a route). We walked to the local school because the
group wanted to play soccer, but one of the students said that he wanted to get
an internet modem. We walked farther down into town to an MTN store (a huge
cell phone carrier here) and he got a modem for 49cedis. We turned around and
walked back to the field, which was entirely full. A child took us to another
field behind the school, so we walked even further. By the time we got to the
field, it was around 6:30pm. We had been walking for 2.5 hours at this point in
the Ghanaian heat. I was pretty tired, as was everyone. I sat down next to
Frieda and some other students that decided to not play, and we watched the
rest of the group play against some school children (who were surprisingly
good).
Gnats started coming out and we left soon after. The sun was
setting, Frieda and I branched off from the group to go back to the house. We
got back at around 7:00pm. She made me some more of that hot chocolate and said
that she was going to leave for a little bit to get some porridge. I took out
my contacts, changed into my pajamas, and read. I was so tired. I looked down
at my feet and noticed that they were quite dirty.
I washed them outside quickly and went back to reading. I
was extremely tired at this time and thought that going to sleep around 8:00pm
wasn’t shameful. Right? I stayed up long enough for Frieda to return and I let
her explore my laptop for a while. I was falling asleep and once she closed the
computer I knew it was time to go to sleep. The time was around 9:00pm. I went
to the bathroom before sleeping as a precaution, not wanting to repeat the
previous night’s event. I pulled my mosquito net over my bed and tried to fall
asleep. I did so rather quickly but woke up soon after to begin the now-routine
tossing and turning. I had to pee again.
This couldn’t be real. I listened outside and heard pounding rain. I’ve never
heard rain like this, I thought that water was going to start flooding the
house. I couldn’t leave to go outside now, it sounded too frightening to leave
the comfort of my mosquito net. I looked around and noticed that the net became
untucked at the end by my foot and I cursed the stars. I retucked it in and
hoped that all of this bad luck with mosquitoes wouldn’t turn into malaria. It
would just be my luck.
I tried to go back to sleep but the storm was very loud.
Another night of restlessness, it appeared. This time it wasn’t the heat (the
rain had cooled everything to a reasonable temperature), but rather my
screaming bladder and the imminent threat of the outdoors.
As promised, here is the video I was too impatient to upload earlier. Sorry it's sideways, I'm still getting used to my new phone. Pay attention to how loud it is, the tin roof really made it sound like the end of the world was happening.
Last night, we had a pretty decent storm. It rained sporadically through the night and cooled everything down. I couldn't fall asleep and I think it's because it cooled down enough that I became energized. Heat and humidity makes a person lethargic, and once I felt that it was cool enough to not live like a slug, it was hard to lay down. I woke up pretty late this morning and I took another shower. The water was a little cooler this time, mostly because the temperature outside was also cooler.
Afterwards, I tried setting up my phone with a Ghanaian number. I got a SIM card yesterday. I put the card in the phone, but didn't get any cell phone signal. I thought that was abnormal, and asked around. I took a gander at the actual chip on each SIM card, only to discover that American chips are a little smaller than Ghanaian ones. Conclusion: no Ghanaian SIM will work with my phone because of that small size difference. Wonderful.
As my hair began to dry, I felt it curling. I brushed it out to discourage the jungle hair, but it protested. Freshly washed hair in humidity tends to do what it will, and I think I'm learning that the hard way.
Jumanji? Also, like my use of Instagram?
I had a nice chat with an AIESEC e-board member for a while. I told him about my experiences as an RA (which is a book in the writing) and I'm not sure he believed most of what I said, but I have a few people to back me on the stories (right?). I also told him about this blog and how I used it to show people the food I make. That delved into an entire food-based conversation, in which I tried to describe the foods I've made.
What a challenge. I learned quickly how different America and Ghana are, culinarily speaking (is that a word?). I showed him a few pictures of my food and tried to describe it. How do you describe what cheesecake is to someone who doesn't know what it is? Or cream cheese for that matter? How do you even begin to describe what cheesecake is without the slightest knowledge of its foundation? I tried by saying that it's what you spread on a bagel, but that left me with a blank stare. This man has never had a bagel.
I was floored. A life without cream cheese.
I pressed further and became more shocked. No lasagna dinners. No idea what the most perfect combination of cinnamon-sugar tastes like. Hasn't the clue what Hot Tomato Oil tastes like (but a lot of people don't, so I'll let that slide). He's never heard the word brownie. For the love of ZEUS what is a life without brownies?
Great. This is going to be the only thing on my mind for the rest of my stay. [askmissa.com]
Could this be my first taste (no pun intended) of culture shock? I have this unignorable desire to cook everything I can for these guys. Ghanaian food is great, but as he said it perfectly, there isn't much variety Starch with something spicy. Mix and match from there.
With all that talk of food, I became extremely hungry. We went in search of food, but unfortunately for us it is Sunday. Ghana is pretty religious, and has multiple masses on Sundays. Subsequently, everything is pretty much closed all day. We found a place that was open. I was highly recommended to get Waakye (waa-chay), which is a traditional Ghanaian dish that consists of rice and beans cooked together.
Most of the dish was exactly that, black beans and rice cooked together until they were pretty homogeneous (I'd say 80% homogeneous). I wasn't expecting the toppings. She scooped the rice in the container and added (1) gari - a dried part of the cassava tuber, orange in appearance, and gritty in texture, (2) noodles - i thought is was spaghetti, (3) a chicken leg - always welcome, and (4) that hot sauce that I discovered on the fried rice two days earlier. It turns out that the sauce is a mix of the two pepes I had yesterday, it's extremely spicy. I wiped a lot off before I ate to avoid the same mistake.
This is the most accurate picture I could find. [flickr]
I ate enough to fill me, but it looked like I didn't eat anything. I wasn't putting a dent in this food. On the walk back from the place, I saw a ton of chickens. I couldn't get over it. They were just running around, bawking and clucking to their hearts content. I was so fascinated that the guy I was with started laughing hard. How could I not be fascinated, there were five chickens running around together! WHAT? They're so regular in Ghana, I'm just going to go ahead and assume that the chicken here is our squirrel equivalent. Most likely the only comparison the two animals will ever receive.
Just when you think I can't write anymore, here I am again. BAM.
How was your day? I would love to know. I'll tell you about mine.
I woke up in a sweaty pool, per usual, with people walking around.
"No lights"is all I hear, and for some reason it didn't
register in my head that we were experiencing another power outage until I
couldn't connect to the internet. The first thing I do is take a long
hard look at my hair, which has definitely become as wild as my nightmares
predicted. I get ready, put my mane into a bun, pop in my contacts, take
my malaria meds, the whole nine. Considering that the power was out, I opened
upLife of Pi and
finished it within the hour. For those who have read the book, please talk to
me privately about your thoughts. I think that book is something I'll need to
read a few times to fully understand, but it was incredible.
A few people from AIESEC went out to grab some food and they
brought it back to the house. The carried a plastic bag full of a bunch of
round, steaming objects. Ghanaian food at last. Last night I had my first taste
of it. There's a place that sells food for cheap and a few of us went to grab
some. I got fried rice with a piece of chicken. First of all, for less than $2
in America I'd venture to say that you'd be able to get about a cup of rice. I
got at least a pound of it, it so delicious. There was cabbage, almost tasted
like coleslaw. It cooled the rice down. I wish I knew that before I mixed in
the mysterious red paste next to the piece of chicken. I've had some pretty
spicy food, but damn. It must have been a chili paste, because yo it amped the
rice up to a whole new level. I was sweating bullets, searching for the cabbage
for solace. I tried drinking water, but the fact that (1) it was room temperature,
and (2) it was water, only worsened the fire in my mouth. I powered through it,
finishing everything. Next time, I'll know better.
They grabbed two big dishes, and put a few of the balls on one
dish, and filled the other with two sauces. Both sauces were called Pepe, one
was dark and smooth while the other was red and had chili seeds and onions in
it. The balls were called Kenkey (ken-KAY). It’s made out of corn and is
smashed until it forms a dough. From there it’s steamed in a corn husk, or so I
believe.
They threw a few sardines in there as well. [mywaku.com]
Everyone sat around the dishes and
dug in. African food is notoriously hands-on, it’s pretty cool. I grabbed some
of the open kenkey (which was so hot I thought I melted my fingertips),
screamed just a little bit, and tried it. It’s hard to describe, but it’s very
plain and almost gritty. It’s cornmeal, in essence. There’s nothing fancy about
kenkey, or any Ghanaian food from what I’m seeing. In the other dish were the
two different kinds of pepe, and canned corned beef. I stuck with the red pepe,
avoiding beef as much as possible and slightly afraid of the dark pepe after
the fried rice I had the night before. The pepe definitely improved the flavor,
and I found that the more I ate, the better it tasted. It is something I could
eat on the regular; I think the texture would definitely expedite how much I
would be able to eat.
After I was sufficiently full, I
grabbed my copy of The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and
began to read. The power was still out at this point (it has been around 4 or 5
hours) and I thought to myself: if this happens as frequently as it has been,
I’m going to run out of books by next week. And my dad told me that bringing
seven books was silly. Silly him.
I went to the Accra Mall with a
member of AIESEC to get me a Ghanaian phone number. On the way, people were
walking along the highways, between the lanes during heavy traffic, trying to
sell anything. I saw belts, dog leashes, sunglasses, clocks, maps, peanuts, you
name it. The roads in Accra aren’t very well maintained and the cars are all
very old. Ours kept stalling and having to be restarted, but you’d never know
because the traffic moves slowly. Lane changes happen at the blink of an eye
and my version of tailgating would leave too much room in the road. Cars were
literally bumper to bumper with maybe an inch to spare on each side.
The SIM card was cut to match my
phone. This is convenient because I already have a phone to put it in. This in
inconvenient because now I’m going to have to keep switching out between my
American and Ghanaian SIM cards. Alas. At the mall, I also took the liberty of
buying a pillow, considering I’ve been using my neck pillow for sleeping since
I’ve arrived. My neck hurts a little bit.
We left the mall and walked around
town to a tro-tro stop. A tro-tro is almost like a big taxi, but it fits around
20 or so people. They’re pretty crowded but it’s a cheap way to get around. A
person working in a tro-tro will stand outside the van, usually a 15 passenger
van or something bigger, and yell where they’re going. There was no schedule,
no numbers on the tro-tro, nothing. I would have been lost without my AIESEC
peeps for sure. I hope I get the hang of tro-tros soon enough.
During the talk, it started
raining. I’m not talking about a light rain; it down poured. The restaurant had
a tin roof, amplifying the rain to a level so loud that they had to stop the
talk. Rain was splashing into the restaurant, and my back became wet. The floor
was soaked, even five feet away from the door.
I took a video of the rain but it's taking way too long to upload. I'll post it when I write my next entry.
After the talk and post-talk
discussion, we left in search of food and a way to get back to the AIESEC
house. We walked for a little while until we hit a main road in Accra. A man
asked me to buy him a loaf of bread. Children were running around. The roads
weren’t lit very well, and no street has a name. We end up eating at KFC of all
places. This was different, though. We walk in and the cold blast of air
conditioning hits me for the first time since I’ve been here. What a welcome
relief. I look around, and see that this is no ordinary KFC. The entire menu,
save the obvious star of fried chicken, was different. Sides were French fries
(not potato wedges) or fried rice. The specialty chicken dish was not a grilled
bucket, but Spicy Chili Lime Wings. And above all, this KFC was a three-story
behemoth of a fast food joint, complete with plasma screen televisions and
chandeliers. I was taken aback. No biscuits? No mashed potatoes? No boneless
buckets or grilled chicken? Actual effort in the dining room? What was this?
Gary, I don’t think we’re in Liverpool anymore…
Howdy. How are you? You look so beautiful today. Me? Oh, I'm doing fine. I've been in Ghana for a little over a day, and I thought you'd like to read what I've been up to. Cool.
So, I'd like to start off by saying one thing: it's pretty humid here. I've told that to everyone, and I can't really get over it. It's so different than the ever-so-mysterious weather of Syracuse, where most know that it could be a beautiful summer day and the next begins with snow. The weather has been pretty consistent (then again, I've only been here for a day), even at night. It may have cooled, but I don't think I ever would know. Considering the extreme lack of sleep I obtained on my flight to Ghana, I spend the rest of the day in a lazy existence, moving about sluggishly and acting unusually antisocial. Perhaps it was the superstorm of fatigue and perfect no-blanket sleep weather that led me to crawl into bed around 8:00pm.
I woke up a few times in the night, once to the room being lit (the room I slept in also housed some other people, including their luggage), the other out of confusion (the light was still on and gave the appearance of daytime), and the third time around 3:00am because I was pretty well rested. I woke up in a pool of my own sweat, hair sticking to my face like flies on fly tape. I moved my hair and wiped off what I could with my sheet. I tried to connect to the wifi but I couldn't get a signal. Giving up, I plugged my cell phone charger into my adapter and inserted it into the wall. No charge. It appeared as if the power was out. I turned on my laptop and plugged my cell phone in the USB port. Awake and sweaty, I decided to play a game of Solitaire on my computer. I won on the first round, undoubtedly the only time in my life that will ever be accomplished. Not about to press my luck, I moved onto Mahjong. Believe it or not, I groggily won on the first round as well. Figuring that I peaked on computer games, I decided to try to fall back asleep. I was successful. Third win of the night.
HOLLA.
I woke up again to the sun, not the room light, and the bawking of chickens outside. It seems like the sound of chickens is as frequent as crickets in nighttime or dogs barking during the day. It was around 9:30am or so and I checked my fully charged phone. After that, I dug my toiletries out of my backpack. The worst part of using a hiking backpack is getting things out. It fits so much, but damn. I mistakenly packed my towel on the bottom and in order to get it, I had to weave through a full arm's length of clothing and other things. I grabbed my towel after a bit of struggle and found my toiletries. I had to fill a bucket with water from outside and use that as my shower.
Close, but no cigar. [trendir.com]
I went into the designated shower room and took my first bucket shower. The water was cool but manageable, it felt incredible on my skin, especially considering that I'd been coated in a nice sheen of sweat since I left JFK. I dipped as much of my head as I could in the bucket to wet my hair, figuring it would be the most efficient way to do so. I started shampooing and realized how much water I was going to use to wash everything out. I ended up using about half of my bucket doing that alone. Not wanting to waste any more water, I just bit the bullet and washed my hair in the rest of the water in the bucket, making the rest of my shower smell slightly like Herbal Essences Drama Clean. I used soap and conditioned the bottom half of my hair, not only to conserve water but to save me the extreme headache of seeing my baby hair curl on top of my head. I rinsed the rest of myself off and dried off with my new microfiber towel (thanks, Amazon).
I got dressed and had my first true realization. I successfully bathed using about five gallons of water. What? Showering in the US is a completely different story; I'd be willing to bet that a five-gallon shower is around one or two minutes of constant water streaming out. How incredibly wasteful of the developed world to take fresh water for granted, it literally slips down the drain. It makes me think about other parts of my life that I could be practicing more sustainably, especially with water.
After the shower, I drank some water. The first rule of coming to Ghana is that you really shouldn't drink from the tap. They sell pouches, called sachets, of water containing purified water. They're like mandatory Capri Suns and I really like it. The pouches prevent people from making a quick buck by rebottling water from the tap. This ensures that you're getting something safe to drink without a doubt.
After that, I read for a little while in the main room in the AIESEC house. The heat was steadily increasing outside and everyone seemed to be moving at a snail's pace, including myself. The afternoon was spent lounging: napping for some, browsing the web for others, or reading (like myself). I ate large slices of bread that had the consistency, weight, and texture of sponge cake. Very light. It had swirls of brown around it but tasted like regular bread. I also had some tea, complete with canned tea creamer (I think that's only in Ghana, someone please correct me if you've seen it elsewhere) and sugar. I spread orange marmalade on the bread. Two pieces filled me completely.
Afterwards, I continued reading. I haven't read for fun in such a long time, I almost forgot what it feels like to be immersed in a book and the plot. The Life of Pi is an excellent book and an easy read. I haven't finished it yet, but it should be finished shortly.
After a while, I went with an AIESEC member to exchange my currency. It was a nice five minute walk from the house, down the road and to the right. I saw a bit of town then. It was just around the time that school was let out, because I saw a ton of kids walking home in school uniforms. There weren't sidewalks, per se, and the sides of the roads had red sand. Taxis flew by (most of the cars are taxis, it seems) and the side of my maxi dress flowed to the breeze created by the cars. As we walked, I saw two dogs. They looked pretty small, compared to what I'm used to. They also have a higher pitched bark. The AIESEC member told me that most of the dogs that walk around in the street during the day belong to different people in the neighborhood - they just let them roam knowing they'll come back before night time.
We get to the exchange place and I give the teller money. He gave me a wad of cash in return, and for a quick minute I forgot that the exchange rate is in my favor, effectively doubling my money. It's mostly in five cedi bills so the pile of money I have is a good three inches tall. I jam it into my small wallet and sort it out when I return to the house.
During my walk back (and there for that matter), I noticed how foreign I was. Every person we passed looked at me for longer than I would experience at home. Crowds of people would turn around to look at me, and a brave few would say hello. It was never a menacing stare, it looked to be fascination. I'm not sure how often you see a six-foot tall White woman walking around the back roads of Ghana, but I'd be willing to bet it's more unusual than the norm. I was told that staring will happen almost every time I go out, so it'll be something that I need to get used to...
Once I got back, I started writing this post. The power went out for a few hours, preventing me from writing much. I walked across the street to buy water, I was pretty thirsty. I bought the satchets instead of the bottles, and 50 satchets cost me 1 cedi, which is roughly 50 cents. That's 25 liters of water right there, folks. I drank two right off the bat and filled my two water bottles. It took two to fill my big Nalgene and only one to fill my glass water bottle. That leaves me with 45 until I need to buy more. I think that'll do for a while. Knowing that water is pretty cheap is wonderful, especially considering that I need to drink it profusely; I'm convinced I'm sweating everything out. Hopefully my body gets used to this humidity quickly (which, apparently, is cool weather in comparison to January).
Also, some interesting noticings I've experienced recently:
1. I'm taller than most people here.
2. The humidity doesn't stop. Ever.
3. It gets dark really early.
4. There's a goat outside and every night it seems to baa. What?
5. When children call me Obruni (an affectionate term meaning White person, and apparently this is going to happen often), I am supposed to say Obibini (meaning Black person) in return.
A trip that I take wouldn't be complete without a glorious story attached, would you agree? I agree with myself. I'm currently in Ghana and have been so for a little more than two hours. However, I left house (and more importantly, Gary) around 20 hours ago. So what's been going on during the time between? Let me give you a little insight.
I get to the Syracuse airport at 2:00pm for my 4:00pm flight. We check my hiking backpack and my mother starts welling up. She told me that it's not too late to turn back, I rolled my eyes and received my boarding pass. They walk me up to security and, considering that it's the middle of the day on a Wednesday, I'm through security in about ten minutes. So I have 1 hour and 50 minutes to kill in the most boring airport I have been in. Luckily there was Wifi, but unluckily Netflix wasn't streaming. Thank goodness my opponent in Words with Friends was replying back as quickly as I was. The heat was on in that match, but he eventually came out on top because I'm pretty terrible at Scrabble-type games.
The plane boards, and I have to literally duck into the aircraft. I'm as tall as the ceiling and my backpack doesn't fit under the seat. I channeled Zoolander in that moment, questioning if this plane was made for regular-sized people, and not ants.
[tumblr]
I grumble, crush my legs against the wall, and buckle in for the measly 38 minute flight to JFK. The time goes by quickly, but I couldn't help but be distracted by an adorable toddler that would smile every time our eyes met. What a cutie. We land successfully and I get off the plane. This was my first time in JFK and woah. That airport is a monster. I get my boarding pass for Ghana and the attendants tell me to take a shuttle to my terminal. So, me and fifty or so other people hop on a bus and go to Terminal 4, the newly opened section. It's around 5:30pm and my flight doesn't take off for another five hours. I figured I would have Netflix here, surely I could pass the time with a few episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, in order to get internet you had to purchase it, and I'm not about that lifestyle. So instead, I looked at my life and knew that I had about 3GB of data on my phone that was going to last me the entire month. I just used data for five hours, knowing that I wouldn't need it until August. In between walking around from boredom and browsing Facebook from boredom, I started The Life of Pi and I'm about half-way through it now. Starving, I literally inhaled dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings, costing me a pretty penny. Stupid airport restaurants.
After dinner, I sit down at the gate and continue reading. A ton of people for that flight were at the fate with me at that point, and an attendant announced a gate change. Everyone grumbled at the same time, and herded to the other gate as one mass. Just getting settled in there, another gate change was announced and the grumbling became significantly louder, including my own. We all moved there and soon enough, the plane was boarding.
This was the biggest plane I've ever been on. My parents made me wait until my visa was approved to buy a plane ticket, which was until about a week before I was scheduled to leave. This gave me two seat options, both in the middle row and in the middle seat of that row. I always wondered what it would be like to be a sardine, and I was about to find out. I created a rough seating diagram for you in case you're still confused.
I board quickly, ensuring that I could squeeze my backpack under the seat before the plane got too crowded. I sit and mentally prepare myself for a 10.5 hour flight without any freedom. A man sits to my right, and a boy around twelve sits to my left. I sensed the man to my right didn't want to be there, mostly because I overheard him asking the flight attendant if there were any open seats in Economy Comfort. He left promptly after and the flight became significantly more enjoyable. I moved to the right for aisle access and propped my backpack in the middle seat. We take off at 11:00pm and I was ready to go to sleep. However, the flight crew wasn't because they gave out customs forms and announced that they were going to be serving a hot dinner. Great. Had I known they were going to serve food at midnight, maybe I wouldn't have spent $20 at Buffalo Wild Wings.
This is where I get sassy, mostly out of fatigue, but also because I appreciate good cooking. The hot dinner rolls around and from the get-go, something smells off. There was definitely beef in it, I could smell it from a mile away (I don't eat beef for people that don't know). I got nervous. The mention of food made me hungry, and there were too many people talking to even consider going to sleep (which I will talk about in a minute, hold your horses). I see the flight attendant mouthing "chicken or beef" down the aisle and I am calmed, for a little while. She gets to me and I choose the chicken. It comes in a plastic-sealed square of sorts, there's a few chunks of fruit, a cold squash and celery thing, and a roll. I open the seal and see rice with small bits of chicken covered in a sauce. Initially, I thought it was fried rice, but upon further, cautious, investigation the sauce on top tasted like chili or tacos. Taco chicken fried rice? Interesting. Considering that no menu was provided at any point, every passenger approached their meal as timidly as mine. It was a pretty bad meal, and I think a lot of that is due to the extreme mystery behind it.
After that challenge, I tried to fall asleep. It was around 1:00am. I woke up at 3:30am or so completely restless. Sleeping on a plane is not very fun for an extended period of time, especially during a red eye. I couldn't fall asleep again, even though I was exhausted. I found a pen and filled out my customs forms, played some Tetris, and read some more. It was around 4:45 or 5:00 that I fell back asleep. I dreamt that my friends wanted to hang out, but I was too tired to do that. I fell asleep in my dream, that's how tired I was. I was awakened not much later by the rustling of the cabin; breakfast was going to be served soon. I prayed for oatmeal or yogurt, something that they wouldn't ruin.
It's virtually impossible to mess up oatmeal. [ashleydietrich.com]
How wrong I was. Breakfast comes around and is given in a rectangular dish. Four or five chunks of fruit and a hot half moon-shaped pastry of sorts. I had no idea what it was, but the smell was all too familiar. I opened the plastic package and the smell became significantly stronger. I asked what it was and the lady said "some sort of meat pie." Oh. Oh no. I opened it, and the color was too familiar. It smelled and looked exactly what I had eaten just six hours: breakfast was taco chicken fried rice meat pie. No, this couldn't be real. I took a reluctant bite, only to confirm my thoughts. They added hot sauce to mask the flavor. I can handle spice, please trust me on that, but this was too much for 6:00am. Especially considering that I ate the same meal, just not in to-go form.
Egads. After that hell breakfast, I continued reading. I would have fallen asleep, but two girls sitting kitty corner to me befriended each other quickly and made it known to the entire plane. I usually don't complain about people, but this was bad. It was their first time to Ghana and they were anthropology majors (put that picture in your head). Their conversation reminded me too much of the infamous Gap Yah video on YouTube. My eyes couldn't stop rolling, it was uncontrollable.
Not soon enough, the plane landed in Accra. The plane moved fast, scraping half an hour off the flight time. The plane was deboarding on both ends, so I stepped outside and instantly regretted wearing a sweater and black pants. The humidity struck me first, then the sheer heat. It's a lot different than Syracuse, where weather can change in the blink of an eye. I grabbed my checked bag and met my fellow AIESECers for a pickup. We hopped in a taxi and drove to the AIESEC house in Ghana. Here are my first impressions of Ghana, I'm just going to spitfire them off as I saw them.
1. The dirt is red. It's pretty cool, everything's red or green. Looks like Christmas. It also reminds me of the red sand beaches on PEI. Most roofs are also red.
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2. A lot of the roads are unpaved and there seem to be little rules on the road.
3. Sidewalks by the airport are brick.
4. I saw a pack of goats near a dresser on the side of the road. Don't know what that's all about.
5. People are on the side of the road selling anything you could possible imagine. Women have huge baskets on their head filled with toiletries and bottled water, men come up to the car and try to sell you maps, nightstands, shoes, etc. Anything is for sale.
6. I saw a chicken for the first time today chilling next to the AIESEC house. I hope to become friends with her.
7. My hair is slowly curling due to the humidity. It's going full-on Jungle Hair on me. Alas.
8. Everyone is really friendly here, I think it's going to be a great time.
