Hi there,
first and foremost HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I have to sincerely apologize to those (and
only those) who checked in on my blog in the last 3-4 months for not being
exposed to any new entries! I certainly do not want to make up any lame excuses;
I definitely had the time despite the studying and working hassle I was caught
up in, but – let me put it this way- I did not have the mind to do so.
Now, let me gather my notes, reminisce
about my trip to Ghana and finish my diary.
Please note that I will skip day 5 & 8
since my notes only reveal that I’ve just been chillin’ like a villain on
Labadi beach and watched a couple of How I met Your Mother episodes (-great
show by the way, but it gets old fairly quickly which is exactly why I quit
watching it half way through the 3rd season…anyway…).
Kwaku - Day 6, 07/21/2009
My cousin Abeiku (I hope the spelling is
right) and I drove up 1 ½ hours north from Accra to Aburi to visit a friend of mine, moreover a class
mate back in high school , in other words my dancing partner at our high school
graduation dance. She coincidentally went to Ghana over summer as well to visit
her boyfriend, so it was a no-brainer we would make an effort to meet up. My
father was a little bit hesitant to hand me over the keys to his white little
off-road vehicle; 
accordingly he was surprised about the intact delivery at the end
of the day. On our way out of town Abeiku and I lost our way a little bit, it
would’ve been nice to have a TomTom navigation device at that moment, except
the only African country TomTom provides maps for is South Africa. Anyway, we
picked up a University of Ghana student who was waiting for a “bus” (rather one
of those vans, named tro-tros(?)) who led us out of confusion, and gave him a
ride home. Compared to the streets of Accra, with incredibly many potholes, the
high was in very good shape, similar to central European ones. It was
definitely nice to observe that the government invests in infrastructure. My
grandfather by the way fell victim to a pothole on a highway and had a lethal
motorcycle accident, long before I was born…but that’s a different story.
Aburi, compared to Accra, is a small town
in the hills and there is nothing spectacular to report about to be honest, but
it was pretty cool to meet a friend on the other side of the world - sort of. Besides having dinner all four of us went for
a walk in a botanic garden with a great deal of exotic flora. Afterwards, we
dropped the-very cute- couple off and headed back home. On our way we made a 
quick stop at Rita
Marley’s mansion and were granted permission to snap a couple of pictures by an
old Rastafarian who sat in front of the porch. (Back story: Rita was one of the
many of Bob Marley’s wives. She traced back her roots to Ghana and settled
there.)
Abeiku and I had a pretty good time and got
to know each other a little bit better. I have a lot more relatives in Ghana
most of which I have never met, and maybe never will, but if memory serves I
remember having met three other cousins during my first trip to Ghana, back
when I was thirteen. Amongst other things I clearly remember we talked about
how the first names (alternatively middle names) of Akan boys and girls come
about. Akan is the umbrella term for the Fanti and Ashanti tribes which have
their origin in the south & south-east of Ghana I suppose. My father never
mentioned to us why his middle name was Ekow, we knew he was a Fanti though,
but not until I moved to Amsterdam in late August of 2008 during a conversation
with my Ghanaian landlord (also Ekow) I became aware of a certain name giving
system the Akan have. For some reason my awareness did not evolve into further
curiosity though, but during the conversation with my cousin I all of a sudden
wanted to know more about it, after all I’m partially of Ghanaian descent. To
get to the point, the first or middle boys and girls get when are born depends on
the day of the week of their birth. Many variations have developed over
hundreds of years, so I guess it may not be that clear immediately, but when a
little boy is named Ekow, such as my father, he certainly is born on a
Thursday. “Kofi” Annan therefore must have been born on a Friday, whoever was
named Kwámè and so forth. When I returned home I was able to find out the day
of the week I was born on my cell phone. Kwakú would have been my name, the one
chosen for boys born on Wednesday.
(For more info on that, check http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akan_names)
Later that night my dad and I went to a
nice beach party with a live reggae and a diverse audience from all over the
world. I had to convince my father in the afternoon to go, up to that point he
was not so much into reggae music (except for Bob Marley of course), but he
loved it and I had to convince him once more that at some point it was time to
leave. I was hilarious when he in shock pointed out to me that some other guys
sitting at his table were smoking weed. That according to his memory was the
first time he saw someone hit some green, and the weird smell he couldn’t
immediately identify. His facial expression really cracked me up and served his
credibility, although he must have been in amidst of the ‘60s movements being a
medical student in Hamburg at that time.
Anyway, the music and the people were great
and I made a nice acquaintance with whom I would spend the whole penultimate
day of my stay.
Identity crisis? - Day 7, 07/22/2009
My dad seemed to me more relaxed to let me drive
his car after I safely returned from Aburi, even though the traffic in Ghana is
a big mess, regulations-less so to speak. Obviously there are certain rules and
such but nobody pays attention to them. There is no such thing as right of way
when basically everyone thinks he (most of the divers are male) has the right
to go first, which leads to huge inner-city jams because many junctions don’t
have traffic lights. Unless you cut somebody off when you try to pull out of a
parking spot, amidst of all the annoying and stupid honking going on. A funny
observation I made was that I gradually transformed into one of them as far as
my driving style was concerned. Something else I noticed was that I was the
only one to wear a seat belt. The mentality there unfortunately perceives a
seat belt as annoying while driving – that is, useless. Therefore obviously the
percentage of lethal car accidents is much higher than for instance in Germany.
To give you an idea check out the pictures
I took illustrating typical traffic situations.
Visiting other Universities when I get the
chance to has become one of my minor hobbies. I don’t know why, but I’m always
curious what schools of higher education look like compared to mine. Therefore,
I had to take a look at Ghana University in Accra. The Campus compound was huge
I felt, maybe it was not that huge after all but at least three times as big as
my campus where it came in handy to drive around by car instead of taking a
walk. The faculty buildings, on the other hand, were pretty small compared to
the towering buildings of the VU. Anyway, I don’t want to bore you any further
with my campus description.
Thereafter Abeiku and I went to check out
the new embassy of the United States of America…’are
you effin’ kidding me’, I
was thinking…huge, incredibly massive, a modern day fortress sort of. I’m not a
hundred percent sure, but I think it’s the embassy of all of West Africa, but
as I said I don’t know precisely. We were not allowed to take pictures
obviously but we did anyway, it was just so incredibly huge. I guess the
embassy is gonna be very busy in the future now that US sponsored oil rigs are
already under construction off the shore of Ghana. I hope they won’t put me on
a special investigation list or something for publishing an embassy picture …you never know!
Finally, I went to the art center of Accra,
where artists and craftsmen present paintings, carvings, jewelry, decorations,
furniture, instruments etc. One thing I
realized from the beginning of my stay is that I am perceived as a “white”
person in Ghana, a so called “obruni”, whom p
erceivably everyone on the street
either wants to sell something to, is curious about, interested in talking to
etc. Obviously that’s not exactly the case but it feels like it, because
everyone knows I’m from some Western Country. So in their mind I am white, a
foreigner, a tourist, someone not only loaded with dough, but also willing to
spend a lot. In the beginning I responded very kindly that I was uninterested
to buy and such, but after a week or so I unfortunately displayed some rudeness
on my behalf which I always felt sorry about right after, but it became so
annoying. My father always says:”They have to live as well!”, I guess he has a
point. But you can imagine how I was racing through the art center, buying a
couple of beautiful carvings, and leaving rather quickly afterwards. What these
craftsmen were able to do was incredible.
Anyway, I started thinking about the
general perception of me in Ghana, being “white”, as already mentioned. Though,
being half cast I do consider myself black after all, since this is the
perception in the country I grew up in. So I was always different than others,
growing up in a little town Lower Saxony, Germany. The curly hair, the brown
skin. But apparently, since all societies of countries I am affiliated with, be
it through my blood (Ghana, Denmark, and Sweden) or passport (Germany) consider
me a foreigner I do not have a true national identity. Maybe that’s why I know
in what country I would like to settle someday. For most of my friends Germany
is a safe bet, but not for me. My destination remains to be seen. And who am I
to root for when Germany faces Ghana on the 23rd of June at the
World Cup 2010 in South Africa??? I don’t know.
One might consider me identity-less, but I
consider myself blessed… …I’m cosmopolitan I guess!!
'Excuse me..?' - Day 9, 07/24/2009
Saturday was marked by relaxation and great
conversations with the German acquaintance from Wednesday at the beach and so
on. We basically hung out all day and I was grateful my dad let me have the car
when I needed to. I won’t spoil you with further details of that day, except
for one incident that was a little awkward. Later at night when I gave the
acquaintance a ride home, it must have been around 2 o’clock at night, I was
pulled over at one of those nightly police security positions in Accra. The
police man that waved me over with his flashlight, indicating I was required to
slow down, and another one both looked at me and my acquaintance –“Good
evening!”, I said- and then glimpsed
into the back of the car without saying a word. Although I knew everything was
fine I felt a little uneasy due to their initial silence. Obviously, they could
tell we were not Ghanaian nationals and I was about to take out my passport as
I assumed that would be the first thing they would ask about. “How is your
father?” the officer asked…’Excuse me...??’, I was thinking…”Oh my father, he’s
fine. Thanks for asking.”, I think I said. He told me he only pulled me over
because I kept my high beam on when I approached the position. I couldn’t
figure out whether or not he was trying to excuse himself, but I suppose they
have a point in randomly pulling over any car they want. They also were so kind
to tell us exactly which way we should go, since we lost our way a little bit.
The acquaintance’s place was way out of town, I don’t know exactly how long it
took me to get back home, but it must have been a somewhat 45 minute ride.
Anyhow, I managed to find my way back home which wasn’t a big deal I suppose
but which I was a little proud of anyway.
( I sort of like the word "acquaintance"...you noticed!)
Back to reality! - Day 10, 07/25/2009
Besides packing for the return trip,
reading and spending some more quality time with my beloveth father I also got
to meet his best buddy who is a pretty relaxed German dentist himself who lives
and works in Hamburg, but frequently travels to Ghana to monitor the
construction of his house and see his fiancé.
By the end of the day I was looking forward
to go back home to Amsterdam. It’s always great to be on vacation but at some
point one wants to get back to normal life.
- The End -
The title of this entry by the way alludes
to my nightly encounters with the toilet rim since midway through my stay. I
must have eaten something I wouldn’t digest properly; of course I couldn’t tell
what it was. But this shall not overshadow the terrific time I had in Ghana
overall. I hope I can go back in two
years time after I graduated and take a good friend along and show him/her what
West Africa is about!
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