Wrap Up

I've been putting this off majorly, seeing how long I've not been in Ghana at this point, but now it's time for me to finally give this blog a proper sendoff.

My experiences working with CRS and OIC allowed me a glimpse of the efforts going into micro-development. Working from the bottom up in terms of empowering people to improve their lives is crucial. You always hear of countries shelling out billions of dollars in aid to developing countries, but you don't really hear what happens after that. Recently, the responsibility of developing rural communities has transferred from governments to local NGOs. I think this is a good strategy, since the locals have the advantage of knowing the customs of the people they're helping.

One of the most important things I learned about development efforts was the concept of helping people help themselves. It wasn't about drastically changing people's way of life, but integrating new methods and skills into their daily routines. So when village women are taught how to process their rice better, an activity in which they already participate, they are able to sell it at a higher price, which improves their standard of living as well as maintaining their way of life.

On the flip side, I'm now curious about the macro aspect of development--the bigger picture, to put it in other words. What policies can be enacted to effect a real, sustainable change in the economy of Ghana, and other developing countries? These are questions I'm excited to continue exploring at school and *gasp!* maybe even grad school?

Going to Ghana by myself was a big step for me. Not only do I feel this sense of freedom and liberation, but now there's this itch to travel and see more of the world. I also hope to make my visits to Ghana more frequent so that it can truly feel like my second home. This trip has made me realize how big my world is. To think that the world, my world, extends beyond the bubble in which I've enclosed myself for so long boggles my mind, yet fills me with an incredible sense of warmth.

Thanks for reading. I hope it was as fun reading as it was to write this. This summer was chock-full of truth and mangoes, the latter, of course, being tastier.

Final Week

My last week in Ghana was spent in Accra. I spent so much time in Tamale, and just northern Ghana in general, that going back down to the south was a pleasant shock. Since most of the population is concentrated in the southern part of the country, it makes sense that it's more developed, with better infrastructure, buildings, and all. When I arrived in Accra, I almost felt like I was back home in America because everything just felt so...modern. Now, I'm not trying to hate on the north. I can't, that's where I'm from. Buuuuuut, let's just say I enjoyed myself in Accra. A lot.

I went to Elmina, a 2-hour drive from Accra (not factoring in the ever-present traffic), to tour Elmina Castle, the oldest European building in sub-Saharan Africa. It was sobering to see the small chambers that held more than a hundred slaves. What struck me the most was visiting the "Room of No Return."

The slaves had to squeeze through this tiny gate to board the slave ship, the last time most of them would ever set foot on African soil. It was bittersweet that we, tourists, could return.

During our tour, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful the area was, what with the palm trees and crystal-clear blue sea. It's so jarring that a place that evokes feelings of pain and sadness could be set against such a beautiful backdrop.

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For my final week I took it easy: I went to the beach, saw some friends from school, took a tro tro (a public minibus) for the first, and hopefully last, time. I was a bit wary of taking a tro tro because it's the drivers of said vehicles that scare me into believing that I can never drive in Ghana. While it wasn't as bad as I anticipated, let's just say that I prefer taking taxis.

I couldn't help but notice the extensive construction of new roads and new buildings. It's because of this rapid development that Accra seems to change drastically every time I visit.



This is the Africa you don't see. My final thoughts coming soon.

Nandom = Home

Please pardon my 3-week silence. It wasn't for lack of activity nor laziness. I somehow survived this long without Internet access. I'm surprised I'm stayed sane for that long. So though I'm back home, trying to re-accustom myself to quiet suburban life, I'll write about my adventures during my absence.

I spent July 18th - July 21st in Nandom, my parents’ hometown. It’s a small town in the Upper West region, close to Burkina Faso border, aka the middle of nowhere. There’s really nothing to do there but drink pito, a kind of beer that they brew here, and sleep.

Ok, maybe I’m being a little too harsh. After all, when my parents talk about home, they’re talking about Nandom. This is where it all started. This is where my family comes from. Both of my grandmothers still live here: my mom’s mom in town, where I stayed, and my dad’s mom in the village.

This is on the way to the Nakaar house. It was a joke that any woman who married into the Nakaar family would have to know how to swim because the path to the house would flood and become a river whenever it rained.

I visited my makum, my dad's mother, who’s 88, give or take a few years. She doesn't speak English, but for some reason she likes the phrase "very good," which she pronounces "velygoo." It was cute. In addition to giving her medicine I brought, I gave her a shirt with "Yale Grandma" on it. I hardly get chances to give my relatives cheesy gifts like this, so I couldn't resist doing so when the opportunity presented itself.

Even though my parents speak Dagaare, the language they speak in this area, I was raised speaking only English, a fact that completely baffles people here, my relatives included. My understanding is limited to words like “come” “move” and “have you eaten?” Some local girls who called me "Sista Ruth," were eager to give me Dagaare lessons, so I picked up a few more words. I’m happy to say that while I’m still far away from being fluent, I know more than when I came here.

My uncle bought me a guinea fowl and a cock as a parting gift. I wasn’t around for the actual slaughter, but I could hear their dying squawks of agony. It was pretty gruesome but if it’s any consolation, they were REALLY good, after being cooked of course.

So however boring I may find Nandom, I've come to realize that it's important for me to return here, because if I can't call any other place home, I can call this place--where there's nothing to do but drink pito and sleep--home.