Akwaaba To Accra

 

I never imagined that my first visit outside of the U.S. would be to Accra, Ghana. When I finally arrived in Accra after many days of flight delays and jetlag, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

There were more black people than I could count on both hands, which wasn’t normal for me. I was surrounded by black police officers, black flight attendants, black babies, elders and black employees.

The culture was almost intimidating as I was running on two hours of sleep and was struggling to know if I was dreaming or not. For once, I was welcomed into a place by people that share the same features as me.

Learning and understanding the Ghanaian culture is important to me. I visited Nima, a mostly Muslim community in Accra to tour a private school.

As soon as my ears heard the drums playing and the children singing their heartfelt welcome songs in English and French, they let the music take control and I knew it was time to dance. I never felt as much joy dancing as I did when I was dancing with the children at the school in Nima.

My inner child came alive and appreciated every moment of that day. The confidence in the children was powerful, it is like they knew they were going to be someone powerful in their future. I will never forget the impression the kids left on me, they don’t know they’ve changed my life forever.

Jollof rice; the varieties of rice I have had in America were limited to the basics; jasmine rice with butter, chicken fried rice, and worst of all: plain basmati rice.

I didn’t expect to have such high expectations for rice until I came to Accra. Jollof rice is the perfect shade of orange because of the tomatoes that are used in the preparation of the rice, and the spice and flavor come from the onion and spices that the aunties pair together.

When you take a sniff your nose might start running, which means you are in the right place; if your nose doesn’t start running it is not spicy enough. The spice is what makes Jollof rice unique like no other. I never would have thought rice could fulfill my cravings for spicy food until I had the one and only; Jollof rice. Medaase (thank you) Accra for enhancing my food pallet with such a flavorful rice dish.

In my hometown, Portland, Oregon, you can expect to see squirrels running up and down every tree in sight. You can also expect to see a squirrel in people’s backyards of their homes, which usually leads to the squirrels being spotted by a person’s pet dog and being hunted by them from that moment on.

Squirrels usually do not bother anyone, so I would like to think of them as background characters in my life. In Accra, I have not seen a squirrel anywhere, but when I was in Nima I saw baby goats or as you may know them, Kids. The goats run free like the wind, playing tag with one another, and living as free as a bird.

I could not imagine what Portland would be like with goats running around the city. I imagine that the city would not let the goats last a day before putting them into a secured zoo and isolating them from their life in the wild. I have yet to see a goat climbing a tree, but who knows what tricks they have hiding up their sleeves?

Before I arrived in Accra, I was continuously warned by my professor about the potential dangers of falling into one of the open gutters on the roads and the importance of carrying a heavy-duty flashlight when you go out because of the power outages. I was obviously alert because of her warnings, but you do not actually understand the dangers of the open gutters until you are in Accra and see them for yourself. I have never seen as many normalized hazards as the gutters in Accra.

In the U.S. almost every sewer has a manhole cover to ensure safety for the citizens and creatures to prevent them from falling into the gutters. I wonder if the people of Accra prefer to have manhole coverings over the open gutters as well, or if they do not care because that is what they are used to.

I received my Oregon drivers license when I was 17 years old and believed that I was a good driver, but I have quickly learned that being a good driver means that you can navigate driving in Accra and that I cannot do. Every time I get into a taxi in Accra, I sit in the backseat and put my seatbelt on immediately. I am always too stunned to speak as I watch people selling merchandise on the roads, no matter the weather conditions with a strong hustle.

They maintain business while cars on the roads merge lanes without using their blinkers, drive in emergency lanes to get through traffic, and honk at one another until their steering wheel runs out of tune to honk any longer, all while having minimal street lights and stop signs to direct traffic.

Coming from the U.S. with a stop sign at almost every residential street, traffic lights at every intersection, speed cameras operated by the city, separate lanes on the freeways, sidewalks for pedestrians to walk safely, bus schedules, and TV screens at bus stops, excessive amounts of bike lanes, and a requirement to use blinkers, driving in Accra feels unreal for an American like myself, yet normal. I am grateful to have seen a whole new world I did not know exists in Accra.

My time in Accra is limited to six weeks, but I have learned so much in so little time, and I have experienced the struggles and benefits of residing in Accra. I have grown an immense appreciation for the city of Accra and the people who live here, so ‘Medasse’ to Accra for everything.

By Kiasia Baggenstos, University of Oregon Journalism Student,

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