The Star of Africa

Group Shot
see all photos »

Arrival at the Accra International Airport was something of an adventure in itself already.  We arrived a few hours after sunset in the capital city and, unlike the airport adventures in Philadelphia or London, we were shuffled off of the plane and walked across the airport lot instead of through a terminal.  The immediate wall of humidity hit like a ton of bricks right after exiting the cool air conditioning of the airplane.  I realized then that I would have to be getting used to the hot conditions.  The airport itself was an exercise in patience and ingenuity. Although the staff was generally friendly, once we made our way through, many people stood outside gates with signs asking for help.  A poor, but reasonable analogy, would be how people in America stand outside the Today show with signs to see the personalities inside.  Instead, the same gates we found here were crowded with people with signs for food and finding relatives.  It was an already unnerving experience especially as we were shuffled through and told not to talk or converse with any of them.  If this was what it was like at the airport itself, my fears for what the rest of the trip was going to be like began to set in.  In fact, some of the young ladies in our group quickly found out that they should be more careful when they found themselves getting taking advantage of by paying way too much money for loading bags, when there were already people sent to do that for us.  Tired, hot, and already covered in bug spray, we finally entered our bus, later to be known as Big Red, to depart for the Novotel Resort, where would stay for the next couple of days.  Upon arrival there, we were assigned our roommates and rooms and we all headed to unpack stuff there, not before, however, being served some delicious pineapple juice by the courteous staff of the resort.

Mixed Meat Malady
see all photos »

While some of us has talked of heading to bed, a group of us decided to spend the first night at the beautiful resort at the pool and bar.  Even as our legs, minds, and bodies were exhausted, it just didn't seem right to waste any time.  We quickly found out that conversion to cedis (Ghana's currency) was necessary, but, until then, the bartenders were more than happy to accept American dollars.  But, we felt bad after a very short time of this because, when exchanging money, you actually got more value if you exchanged, for instance, 100 American dollars at one time, than just 10.  Later, though, it was time for bed, and this worry lifted off of my mind as in the morning a currency exchange would occur at the hotel.

Maybe I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it. It was that pathetic, typical Westerner in me that had to show sympathy even though they don't want sympathy, they just want a chance.

Kwame Nkrumah Memorial
see all photos »

The next morning began with my first taste of true African pineapple.  There were rumors, especially from some friends who had traveled before, that American pineapple imports were watered down versions.  Boy, were they right!  I didn't know pineapple could taste so good.  But, it did.  Some of the group was still afraid to eat/drink certain foods for fear of getting sick, but I already was diving head long into it all.  Then, after slathering on some sunscreen, we were off on the bus to the W.E.B. DuBois Center for Pan African Culture and his library.  As we learned a lot at Cheyney before leaving for Ghana about the two different schools of thought regarding Pan-Africanism, it was an additional treat to be able to visit a central pioneer of one of the schools of thought.  The personal library of DuBois was still intact and in amazing condition.  We were able to read many of the titles of the books and move around the entire room.  Here was also our first experience with the Accra street vendors.  Once leaving the museum, we were instantly mobbed (although I hate using that word, but it was the case) by several men trying to sell their paintings.  They all were beyond beautiful and obviously took great talent.  But, I was already afraid of how far my finances were going to get me.  Dr. Ife, one of the professors along with us on the journey, informed us that we should buy as much as we could when we think we have a low price because it might be the case only for awhile.  Still, I didn't bite just yet.  What interested me most was how they literally were developing a new meaning to window-shopping.  What a great market atmosphere.  At first I thought it was going to be annoying, but it actually facilitated quite the bargaining atmosphere.  I enjoyed this market-style economics I was seeing.  But, I again could not forget that pang of poverty that beat in the back of my heart and mind.  As we pulled away, I realized I was going to feel bad many times while in Ghana.  Maybe I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it.  It was that pathetic, typical Westerner in me that had to show sympathy even though they don't want sympathy, they just want a chance.         After this stop, we took up lunch at the Country Kitchen where I dove in head first with the Ghanaian cuisine.  I chose Fufu, a traditional dish, with a supplement of mixed meat.  The mixed meat part of that order, however, would be the butt of many jokes throughout the rest of the trip.  Fufu, on the other hand, remains to be one of my favorite overall dishes in general ever.  Even better: I had an excuse to eat exclusively with my hands.  You dig in with your hands at the doughy product that is inside a spicy soup, and use a water bowl placed beside you for cleanup.  Most of the group still wasn't as risky as I was and was reserving their first traditional meal for later that night.  Quick note: I actually was amazed by the fact that the glass-style Coca-Cola bottles were used.  It was a blast from the past for most of us and made me think more about the status of the Ghanaian economy.  Needless to say, I knew everytime I saw that style of bottling for now on back in the states, I would be reminded of Ghana.           The day's activities ended with a visit to the Black Star Square and the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial (the tomb of Ghana's first president).  Chills slid down my spine upon visiting each of these landmarks, appropriate visits, though, for our first day to set the tone and scene.  We saw the Indepedence Arch where the eternal flame of African Liberation, lit by Nkrumah, was located.  Putting this scence into perspective upon visiting his memorial, one got a sense of how much this man meant to Ghana and to its independence, politics aside.  Some say that his style of political gains was off kilter and was actually what led to worse times.  But, whatever political slant, his memorial was appropriate, beautiful, chilling (in the sense of the history we were witnessing), and grandeur.  The design was most rewarding.  Fountains existed outside the main portion of the memorial that ran water through it to symbolize life flowing through Ghana at all times.  As we drove away and back to the Novotel, even though we were all looking forward to the pool, the history of Ghana weighed heavily on me.  More importantly, we were all looking forward to the night's activities: we were soon to receive our African names in a traditional naming ceremony.  I could not wait.