Those Who Can't Kickbutt, Tattletell

I think I'm over my anger or at least redirecting it. I realized that I was experiencing a lot of feelings of defeat lately. I just felt like the job of battling injustice was too great and I got tired before I even started. I think I might a bit emotionally spent but I'm rejuvenated by the thought of inspiration. I've always been told that I'm inspiring and I realized I do this without any effort at all. I'm always surprised when people tell me that they decided to read a book or choose to join an organization because of me. So I've decided that that is my new goal. Perhaps I feel too small to do anything as one person to stop the injustice in the world but at least I can inspire one person, two people, or a whole group to put an end to it. I'm reminded by the example of the Black Panther movement. Huey P. Newton was simply fighting back against a racist cop. He ended up imprisoned and suddenly thousands, blacks, whites, hispanics, everyone was shouting for his freedom and the freedom of black people everywhere. When he finally was freed he admitted that he wasn't the Messiah that black people thought he was and he wasn't capable of delivering them from the oppressor. He confessed that he was just one man and that he was tired. But he didn't realize that he moblized thousands and thousands across the country to fight for his cause with one simple act. Rosa Parks is also another example of how someone sparked a revolution through a simple action. So perhaps I can spark a revolution, or spark someone else to spark a revolution. I don't care, as long as the flame is ignited by someone. I'm okay with being the piece of flint or perhaps the gust of wind needed to fan the flames. Doesn't matter. As long as this world starts taking a new direction.
I'm taking next semester off to work and to think and to read and to write. I think it's perfect timing because I've decided that political science is just a bunch of common sense theories that can't really help me in the long run. My passion is now journalism. I've always loved writing and I feel it's my duty to not only mourn for the world but to get the rest of the world mourning and acting and standing up against injustice. I want my articles to inspire others to do what I feel I could not. This is the start of something exciting....

Ruddy Moads

I stopped blogging because I know my grandmother and my mother read this and really I couldn't discuss all of the questionable things I've done here while in Ghana. In all seriousness, the internet is aggravating. My honeymoon period is way over with Ghana. I have a new love-hate relationship. Sometimes I look around and am in awe at how beautiful this country is and other times I'm burning with anger when I see the 8 year old child that should be in school trying to sell me bagged water. I've been angry a lot lately, mainly because as the days go by, the older I get, the more I read and the more informed I become the more my dream and a little part of myself dies. I dream of a world without corruption. A world without perverted values and the greedy desire for money. But there are so many forces out there that hate my dream. That would kill me, my entire family, and anyone associated with me to make sure I don't pursue that dream. And even when one evil is finally stamped out another pops right up, this time more twisted and sick than the first one because this time they've gotten good at being sneaky about it. Take the human trafficking that's going on. Not only do they traffick women for prostitution but they are stealing children for hard labor. God, this world is so messed up. I still cannot understand why God created us to live amongst each other. It's like placing your favorite goldfish in the same tank as your collection of tropical sharks. I agree with Kurt Vonnegut when he says that "Life is no way to treat an animal." There are too many bad things in this world and I wish I could stop caring but I can't. I wish I could just sit around drinking cocktails with my friends waiting around for boys tell me I'm pretty while we laugh at the girls on Laguna Beach. It sure would be a lot easier. But I think an even bigger part of my soul would die if I continued to ignore the fact that we live in a pretty ugly world.
On the bright side, at least the same evil forces that are trying to make money are always killing the world with gaseous poisons. Kinda ironic that we're trying to kill each other and ourselves.

Liberation

I really have nothing to post about. It's just that I woke up this morning with the most liberating feeling. I feel as though Ghana has liberated me from a superficial world. In America, I was constantly trying to have the right look: the shiniest lipgloss, the straightest hair, the smoothest legs, the smallest figure, the thickest eyelashes, the prettiest clothes, and the most flattering make-up. All of my efforts were to look less like me and more like the American standard of beauty meaning less Black and more European. I had always suffered from an internal conflict in which I tried to break free from society's construction of beauty. I did not want to accept it but I knew I had to in order to play the game. The game of getting noticed by boys, the game of impressing employers, the game of being acknowledged as a worthy person. Many women now days are horrified by the thought of walking out of the house with no make-up on. I remember waking up with my friends after sleepovers, after laughing all night, sharing secrets, bearing the rawest parts of our souls, after pigging out on Doritos and oreas all night long and suddenly being swept out of that world when my friends looked in the mirror with disgust and moaned "I look awful with no make-up on." They then hurriedly pressed their faces with blush or powder and then put on a smile to face the world. I remember looking around for something I could press against my face or draw on my lips but then finding nothing had to face the world defeated. I was always left a bit confused because I had just seen the most beautiful parts of my friends but once the sun had risen they scurried to hide it. I remember vowing as a young girl to never wear make-up but as time went on I gave into the pressure to "look-good" so that I wouldn't be left at the table alone with all the boys while the pretty girls scampered off into the bathroom to fix their hair or noses or eyebrows or pores or cracks or cuticles or wrinkles or earlobes. I don't feel that pressure here. It feels so good to wake up in the morning, take a quick shower, put some clothes on, quickly run a brush through my short 'fro and go into the world. Before, I would shamefully go into the world with no confidence and no expectations of really interacting. But I swear, the worse I look in Ghana the more people want to talk to me. I don't have to wear the perfect scent of Bath & Body Works lotion, I don't have to shave my legs (hallejuah! praise the Lord!), I don't have to have long flowing hair, I don't have to wear contacts or make-up. I don't do anything but be me and it is so liberating to finally stop envying my friends and the attention they were shown and desperately try to mimick them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging anyone for wearing make-up and sometimes I enjoy wearing it. I just did not enjoy becoming a slave to it and trying to be something that I'm not. I'm overjoyed that people here seek true beauty and that it is found within me.

School Schmool

This blog is for my mother because she keeps asking "What have you learned in your classes!?!?" Well, Mommy, I will tell you. I've learned never to show up on time for a lecture because in Ghana everything starts a little late, or an hour late, or never even happens at all. I've learned that the teacher reads straight from his notes and expects you to dictate every sentence he spits out at you, assuming you can understand everything he says. So no daydreaming allowed. You are also expected to laugh at the teacher's jokes that are all said in pigeon-english. You are expected to be okay with class being cancelled for a month. You should not expect any discussion or interactive learning. You simply show up for class with 300 other people and feverishly scribble down notes for two hours. That, Mother, is my learning experience so far. I am taking Foreign Policy Analysis, International Relations & Refugees, Drumming, Theories of Underdevelopment, and Twi Language. I love drumming classes, it is so fun and amazing to see how much we've learned so far. I have no clue what we've learned in Foreign Policy Analysis because we've only had class once and he only went over what we will learn. Theories of Underdevelopment is very interesting except we didn't meet for the first two weeks. Twi is great, I'm really picking up on the language and I get plenty of practice. IR & Refugees sucks. All I've learned is that war causes flows of refugees. Who knew? So classes are basically a hit and miss here on campus. So when I speak of things outside of the classroom it is because that is where I am learning the most. My boy Aboni has taught me a lot about the lifestyle of the everyday Ghanian, the no running water, one bedroom shacks, Kelewele (yum!), the school system, being a Rasta, paying to take a shower, lighting a latern when the power is out, inner city transportation, etc. He's helped me learn some phrases in Twi, Ga and Fra-Fra, given me some insight into the Ghanian standard of beauty, showed me some Ghanian perceptions of Americans, and opened my palette to the amazing foods available here. I've learned a lot from the children at the orphanage. They've taught me some Twi and a few playground games. These kids are fluent in 3 languages by the time they're 7 years old. They've taught me how beautiful a smile can be, the importance of human touch, and how amazing a child's laughter sounds. My friend Moro has helped me learn about the local culture from a Muslim standpoint and shown me some Nigerian movies. The friends and relationships I've formed here have taught me more than I ever could in a classroom setting. It has taught me to love the simple things in life and appreciate the extravagant. It has taught me how to be welcoming and friendly. It has taught me about my history and who I am. It has taught me how to truly come back to my home, Africa.

Ew! I smell so bad...

Okay seriously, why do I smell? I JUST showered like a hour ago and already I smell funky. Freaking Africa, ugh. So this weekend everyone went out of town. It was nice to have no boys in the house so that I could walk around naked. Poor Katie, Rachel and Mia though, they had to see me in the nude. It was very peaceful at the house, just the right amount of people there so that you didn't feel lonely but it wasn't overwhelming. Theo and Ryan went to Togo where they probably had the vacation from hell because their stuff was stolen, Theo got hurt, and William had to leave early because he got malaria. Yonina, Luke, Katelyn, and Amy all went to this beach resort village in Ada where they got WASTED and had some crazy fun adventures. I'm a little jealous because I didn't go on any adventures this weekend but I got lots of rest. I got half of my laundry done but it has decided to rain everyday so my clothes haven't really gotten a chance to dry. I did get the chance to go to the Kwame Nkrumah musuem on Saturday. They had pictures of him with JFK, Queen Elizabeth II, Fidel Castro, and all the other cool kids. He was such a diplomat. For those of you who don't know, Dr. Kwame was the first president of Ghana who held Pan African ideals and goals. He pushed for Ghana's independence and was determined to free all of Africa from Western control. He also established free education for Ghana which has left many generations of Ghanians forever grateful. Then we went to the Art Center where they sell every piece of tourist crap you could ever dream of buying. It was cool, I want to go back because I didn't bring enough money to really do some shopping. I bought two wooden masks but that was it. Our power was out that night so one of my Ghanian friends, Moro, came over and played cards with us. But I found out that Moro is sex-crazed so we won't be hanging out anymore. So Sunday night we decided to have a girls night out, everyone went except for Mia because she was hanging out with some British boy she met at CoCo beach. So we meet up with these Belgians that Katelyn and Amy met in Ada. We went to this American Sportsbar called Champs. It was so surreal because we walked in it was just like being in America. There were white people everywhere and I was the only black person there who wasn't serving someone. I almost died when I saw a whole section of the menu titled Tex-Mex! I wasn't hungry though so I ordered a pina colada (virgin). Everyone else ordered Nachos Supreme and I was so happy when it came out that I had not ordered that. The beans looked sick and it was freakin' melted shreds of kraft cheese on top. It was all wrong. I'm glad I didn't get my hopes up. So the Belgian guys came up and talked to us about American football because the Atlanta v. Carolina game was on. They were so arrogant and I wasn't really interested in talking to them once I found out they weren't carrying Belgian waffles in their pockets. So then the movie Shaggy Dog comes on or what we thought was Shaggy Dog. Turns out it wasn't a Disney movie but instead some Jean Claude van Dam and Vivica A. Fox movie about a bodyguard protecting a famous boxer. I was estatic because now every European is going to think that all black men are gun carrying gangstas who thug around the streets. Worst movie ever. I think this weekend would've been better if I wasn't thinking Aboni every five seconds. For those of you who don't know, Aboni and I are "talking" but we can't see each other physically for awhile because it is too tempting. I didn't think I would miss him though. I'm caught in between this desire to use up every precious moment that I have or not using it because it's going to make the end of this semester that much harder. Who knew this would happen in Ghana?
Sidenote: All Tulanians are BANNED from eating ice cream at the new Coldstone location on Carrollton. I am truly upset that they FINALLY decided to open while I'm in Ghana. If you love me you'll travel to Esplanade.

Sorry I haven't been doing my interesting tidbits. So here are TWO:

• Ghanians love country music. Not like pop country but like twangy country western grab your boots and a bottle of moonshine country music. I have no idea why.
• There is no black Jesus in Ghana but instead the blond hair blue eyed Jesus. Huh?
  

Identity Crisis

It is strange how removed I feel from everything. Our group went to Elmina Castle this past weekend at Cape Coast. Elmina Castle was a Porteguese and then Dutch trading castle that eventually began to participate in the slave trade. I don't know if it was the tour guide or my inability to connect to a physical building but I was not emotion at all. I saw my fellow black Americans crying and mourning for "our people" but I wasn't moved at all. I think if I had seen people or a movie featuring a person's story I would have been moved. I think seeing people and their emotions moves me more than a building. It just seemed so tourist-y and they were doing construction on it. But either way, I didn't feel as though I was returning to my people's land. Maybe it's because I identify myself first as a Christian, then as a woman and then as an American. I don't know where my ancestors come from or our history, which is sad, but the truth.
So while I feel disconnected from my assumed history, I also feel disconnected from the people here as well. This saddens me more because while I didn't expect a homecoming I did expect some kind of attention. Maybe it is because I look too Ghanian but people don't shout out "obruni" unless I'm with a big group of white people. I wish the little children's faces would light up when they see me. They get so excited to see the white people here and I feel a bit left out because I am just as excited to meet them as they are to meet my white skinned friends.
I visited the Peace & Love orphanage today. The children were adorable and teaching us some Twi. It was a good practice. But it still kind of hurt me when the children immediately latched on to the white people. They weren't as excited to see me. In fact, the only child that approached me was a little blind girl who felt her way towards me and held my hand. She wanted to get to know me but I wondered if it was only because she couldn't see that my skin was dark. I'm hurt and a little angry that the white people here are receiving a warmer welcome to Ghana than I am. I'm not Ghanian but I'm not American. It does always help to remember that above all I am a child of God which helps me focus on loving everyone here that I meet, no matter what welcome I'm given or their nationality.
It is interesting though that all of the black Americans here on the trip are having completely different experiences here so far. I thought that we would all be experiencing similar things and having the same kind of sentiments, but we're not at all. Some feel hurt because they expected a huge homecoming and to find their roots. Some wanted a chance to get away from white people but are angry because there are only 5 blacks out of 35 students on the program. Some people think white people are innately evil. Some have never had to interact with white people before because they go to a historically black college while some are a part of a 85% white college. Some people are done with Ghanians while some believe it is an important part of their cultural experience. We all have our different approaches to this learning opportunity. But who knew race would be such a huge part of it?

Bursting the Tulane Bubble - Views

Bursting the Tulane Bubble - Views