Erica 0 Ghanaian Public Transport: 18

This is a passage from one of the three books we are reading for class that I think articulates the beautiful chaos that is the Ghana I'm getitng to know:

"Each morning Ghana's seven-and-one half million people seemed to crowd at once into the capital city where the broad avenues as well as the unpaved rutted lanes became gorgeous with moving pageantry: bicycles, battered lorries, hand carts, American and European cars, chauffeur-driven limousines. People on foot struggled for right-of-way, white-collar workers wearing white knee-high socks briushed against market women balancing large baskets on their heads as they proudly swing their wide hips. Children, bright faces shining with palm oil, picked openings in the throng and pretty young women in western clothes affected not to notice the attention tehy caused as they laughed together talking in the musical Twi language. Old men sat or stooped beside the road smoking home-made pipes and looking wise as old men have done eternally," Maya Angelou "All God's Children need Traveling Shoes."

Ignorant Tourist Experience Of the Week:
So as my stomach has been upset for the past two weeks (will leave it at this) I was distraught to find that the western toilet in my home would't flush. I was talking about this with friends in class and they asked if I'd poured water in to flush. Well, of course I hadn't because I had not known I was supposed to and my Auntie hadn't show me. Whoops.

And after running to this Internet Cafe on campus for fear that my explosive diarrhea would get the better of me before I arrived....I've decided I'm going to start those traveler's diarrhea antibiotics today. Oh, and in case you were concerned, thanks to my friend Claire running here with me and explaining to the owner when I rushed in and bolted for the bathroom that 'this was an emergency' I made it accident free....and know that Claire is a true friend for helping me in this urgent time of need!

So in the battle of Me Vs. The Ghanaian Public Transport system, I would say that all of the tro-tros and buses are winning by a landslide.

When I first arrived here, my academic professor, Yemi, told us that most people we would meet in our towns have never seen a white person before and continued to tell us stories about children seeing one of the SIT students and screaming thinking they were a ghost and running inside. Since I've gotten here, more often than not I am pointed at and Ghanaians laugh and say WHITEY! or the more popular expression 'Bruni' is how I am usually addressed. My first week in the village I found this to be endearing, yes I am a white person who has no idea what the hell I'm doing or how to get anywhere- I do stand out and we can all laugh at me, because laughing is the best way to adapt to a new culture. I looked forward to hearing the group of students on my block who would say in a chorus 'good afternoon, Bruni' or 'good morning, Bruni' in passing to and from school.

But when I am tripping over open sewage drains, being pushed out of the way so some one else can get on to a tro-tro, or botching the tro-tro trip completely and getting on the wrong one to the most dreaded Zongo Junction....well, being pointed at and called Bruni just sucks.

Yesterday we had a Batik workshop where we got to stamp and dye our own fabrics (I made fabric that will be made into a shirt for Kwame :-)  but this process took about 4 hours and by the time we were done; getting home with a line full of standstill traffic during rush hour seemed too much to bear. Some of us ended up getting a shared taxi, but I still had to get off at the most dreaded of all the tro-tro stops in town: Zongo Junction.

This place is a mad house. Tro-tros, sellers, coconuts, chickens, roosters, mothers, children, garbage and seemingly no place that the tro-tros stop regularly at. You are constantly being told to stand at another section of this crazy arena only to be told that, No, Bruni, this is not the spot to get to Adenta. I befriended a guy who looked friendly enough and said he'd help me get home to Adenta, as it was getting dark. We stand in a line, literally in the middle of a dirt trodden area with no tro-tros in sight. Soon the line gets longer and I have doubts that this line is going to get me anywhere- but sure enough a tro-tro to Adenta came within 15 minutes to this make-shift tro-tro stop. Go figure. Whatever inside hand gestures/facial expressions or something else that's going on to indicate how I can get home quicker than an hour an a half----I'm just not picking up on it.

On Sunday I went to my first Evangelical church service with my Auntie and Uncle. I was wearing a modest navy blue dress (actually a maternity dress I found at a thrift store in Burlington if you were curious); and was so incredibly out of place amidst the sea of suits and the most colorful and elaborate dresses I've ever seen. American proms have nothing on Evangelical Sunday church services, lemme tell ya. Embarrassingly enough; we were the center of attention walking in and sitting SECOND ROW; and yes, I was the only white person there. I chose to sing and dance along (mostly for fear of being singled out by the pastor if I didn't) and pray to the version of my God, whatever version that is I'm still trying to figure out, and found myself substituting all o the patriarchal language for ones I felt were better suited; so I muttered Queen instead of King and She instead of He under my breath.

Following church we got to attend a traditional burial service in one of my academic director's towns. Lots of singing, drumming, chanting and dancing. I could not help but hope that at my funeral everyone dances like they did and this one and celebrates the beauty that is life!

We had the opportunity to really explore Accra this weekend and got to go to the National Museum of Ghana where there were great pottery exhibits and a necklace made of human teeth! Lots of illustrations of puberty initiation rights for the Dipo as well that I am excited to learn more about. Accra is way too busy and crowded to even navigate it seems; but the group of us did manage to find an art market where we got to participate in some drumming! Some of us explored the Archeology musuem on campus and there is a wide pottery selection there, too, that I got to sketch a little, I am most excited because we leave for Kumasi this Friday for our second homestay and this is where I'll be able to get my hands dirty again and do some pottery.

And I'll leave you with an abridged exerpt from a poem I wrote in my journal...
"Terra cotta colored dust covers the streets.
Matches Uncle's upholstered car seats."