Sensory (and Probably Information) Overload

I am well aware that a new update is overdue. But I experience sensory overload everyday and it takes me awhile to process it all.

The pictures I take aren’t vibrant enough to capture the colors. All my words can’t convey the mindboggling concoction of aromas that hits you as you step off the tro-tro at Madina market. Yells of “obroni!” don’t have the same weight on paper.

It is insane that I’ve been here five and a half weeks, since part of me feels like it has always been in Ghana while the rest sees the calendar flipping at super speed.

What I have experienced within this time is possibly more than some people experience all year. Trying to take stock of all my encounters is impossible, but I will try to express a small taste of the latest ventures.

I had been looking forward to visiting Cape Coast Castle since I knew it was on our trip itinerary, meaning months. As a history major, seeing one of the major forts where slaves were stored on the coast before boarding the ships to take the Middle Passage across the Atlantic to the Americas was a once in a life opportunity. Knowing it would be an emotional experience, I was fully prepared to shed some tears and be contemplative. But as we slowly descended into the male dungeon, the darkness closed in, nearly suffocating me with its intensity. You could just feel the tragedy that had occurred there. I kept trying to contain myself from weeping, listening to the tour guide give the statistics about how many humans would be stuffed into the small room we were standing in and pointing out the one trench that could remove all of their excrements. As we walked to the end of the dungeon, a traditional priest was there to say a prayer. He spoke in some traditional tongue which of course I didn’t recognize, but it was apparent about what he was imploring. As tears now freely rolled down my cheeks, I myself joined him in prayer, asking the Prince of Peace to provide the type of healing only He can ensure and to forgive our sin-filled world where such evil happens.

I don’t like instability- literally and figuratively. So when I stepped on to the small foot board of the Kakum National Park canopy walk, at least 100 meters above ground, and it swung away from me, I got uneasy, to say the least. But my friend Paula is terrified of heights, so her fears were a lot more pressing at that point. As we slowly progressed across the seven bridges, stopping at each platform to catch our bearings, I just focused on encouraging Paula to just look at the back of my head, and to partially take in the scenery of the rain forest canopy. The stifling heat and nerves drenched us in sweat, but as we stepped back onto solid ground, we were triumphant and a huge bond between us was formed.

All of us went to Mole National Park with the sole purpose of spotting an elephant. That is what the park is known for and we knew that the trip north was worth it. So at 5:30 in the morning, we all jammed ourselves into a small bus that has fold out seats down the aisle and tried to remain positive. Road trips are always trying times, but the close quarters, lack of rest stops, and pot-hole ridden roads were wearing on everyone after the 13 hours. But we finally arrived at the hotel in the park and crashed in our rooms to prepare for our morning walking safari. As I stepped out of our room in the morning, a warthog ran by on the sidewalk. So, Pumba welcomed us to the exciting day in the park. Our guide was D.K. and he was excellent. We walked down this cliff onto the savanna, passing the watering hole. Elephant footprints were left caked in the mud from the rainy season and just made us expectant to see a herd. We trekked very far into the park and luckily saw waterbucks, bushbucks, and kobs, all antelope and deer type of animals. But we started heading back towards the hotel a little disappointed. But then D.K. started shaking his fists with a huge grin on his face. And then pointed to a huge gray mass behind a tree. A real live wild elephant was right there! It still blows me away. He told us the two we followed to the watering hole were senior adult males who can’t keep up with a normal herd. They are such majestic animals and we were so close to watch them eat and bathe. Our ride back to Accra was a lot less complaint-filled since we had such an amazing time on the savanna.

The day we got back started very early for me since I got sick. I felt bad all day, but decided I had to attend class because we had a test scheduled. There was some confusion about where we were meeting and I didn't feel well rushing around campus only to find out that we were postponing it. After I took my temperature several times and it kept rising, Heather insisted that we visited the hospital because I had all the symptoms for malaria. I got really emotional because I was afraid I would be really sick and it would just worry my parents. Thankfully Heather hugged me as we were in the taxi and Amanda helped me do all the paper work throughout registration. They were wonderful, keeping things normal and making sure I was OK. After waiting for the doctor and the lab work, it was quickly determined that I only needed antibiotics to combat a simple intestinal infection. It was a tense few hours, but I had amazing support and hopefully it will be the last encounter with medical care.

My History of Western Medicine in Ghana class is one of the most interesting topics I have gotten to attend. It is intriguing to hear about how a single issue of malaria could shape so much of the entire British colonial administration. It got a little tense in my tutorial (a small discussion meeting we have once a week besides our two hour lecture) the other day though. One of the Ghanaians asked why the Europeans called it the "White Man's Grave" and didn't recognize that Africans were also dying from the same diseases. Another student replied that the colonialists only came for exploitation. There are a lot of American students in the discussion with me, but we all didn't know how to respond on such a topic.

My other history class, Ghana in the 19th and 20th Centuries, is interesting to say the least. My lecturer is kind of obsessed with herself, requiring we read about 20 articles written by her. And she stormed out of class one time because there was no respect? What I have read has been informative since I knew almost nothing about Ghanaian history. But the biggest issue with this class is our group project. Each group has a report to write about a different administration that occurred since independence in 1957. Which isn't a problem. But my group decided that being the secretary was "women's work" leaving me, who has no idea what all this entails, as apparently second in command of twenty students who keep dodging our meetings that I partially organize. Story of my life to have a slight academic debacle.

One of the most enjoyable times I have had was right here on campus. The School of Performing Arts had a special Valentines Day weekend performance run of Beauty and the Beast. Yes. It was actually the full blown musical with teapot costumes and dramatic strobe lights during the transformation. It was just such a mix of the familiar with Ghanaian elements. It started an hour later than posted, some numbers were accapella, traditional dances were incorporated during Be Our Guest, and the market scene still included women selling water sachets off a basket on their head. The audience was much more responsive than Americans would probably be, especially when the leads shared quite the simple stage kiss. It was just great to have something familiar, with a nice twist.

I spent the rest of the holiday weekend with the International Programmes Office on a trip to the Volta region, which is in the eastern part of the country. We once again were crammed into a small bus, though the trip was decidedly shorter. We first visited the Tafi Atome monkey sanctuary, which protects four groups of mona monkeys which we got to observe and feed bananas to. Yes, they actually eat bananas. We then proceeded to the Wli waterfall, which the hike to the falls was a bit further than predicted, but it was totally worth it. A lot of the group members swam around in the cold water but I just took in the sights. After we hiked back, the trip kinda went downhill. We got really behind schedule- not a new occurance- but it was partially created by the lack of gas which stranded us in the bush for about an hour. And then we were supposed to boat across the lake to stay in some huts on the beach, but a storm was picking up. So we instead stayed in a dimly lit guesthouse, with three to a bed. Some of the other girls' room didn't lock, so we had a sleepover with their mattress and a guys group bed on our floor for morale support. But the next morning we felt better as we did get to take a canoe over to the beach for a restful day. I stayed in the shade, reading, and enjoying the sand between my toes.

Sometimes it feels weird to have these crazy adventures on the weekends, which feels like vacation, and then I spend the week dancing and listening to lectures. But even day to day, I try to understand what is going on and sometimes can't.

How did I get so blessed to be having this experience?

And I still have three months to go.

I can't wait to see what they hold.