Kelly Wright
Service & Study in West Africa Program, Ghana
When I woke up this morning, I opened the blind on the airplane at the perfect moment. I saw Africa stretched out beneath us as we were approaching the coastline. I watched a thin brown line extend off into the horizon-this is awe-ful; I am overwhelmed. As we fly over I cannot take my eyes off the land, which is smoothed out it meet the lapping waves. A new world. I can see the patchwork earth--brown, cream, tan, vermillion-- all connected, slowly building into dirt roads, villages, and snaking rivers. This is Africa. I am here.
As we began our descent into Accra, gliding out of the clouds, I saw green. Grass, large trees, rolling hills--this is not the same desert appearance as before--the land itself is filled with possibility. The first thing anyone notices is the heat as we take our first steps in Africa. This heat is, however, different from the sweltering southern stick we are used to, nor is it knock-the-wind-out-of-you Arizona dry heat. This heat is oven-like, not in an overpowering way, but with a nurturing sense. I was wrapped in it, encouraged by this heat which pressed in softly, all around at once, to continue baking- to take myself from dough to bread. As I remember it now I realize this nurturing element is everywhere-Africa feels like a mother.
From what I've read of the novel so far, I did not expect the people of Ghana to be so welcoming. Admittedly, our interactions with everyday citizens has been limited-but all the people we have seen have been so kind. As we left the airport and walked to our bus, a sweet gentleman came up to two guys from our group and asked where they were from, bidding them welcome. He told them Ghana was happy to have them here and not to hesitate asking for help from people and then he disappeared into the crowd.
Having travelled internationally before, I did not find myself as overwhelmed by the many men "chancing" on the street as the rest of my companions. I knew to expect it and had studied how to politely refuse. I was, however, surprised at the employees of the airport asking as well. That was new to me because usually that practice is for those who are not interacting with you by working in some official capacity at that moment. I think the experience of the crowd was a little too much for some, but it is a good thing for everyone to see. I remember that feeling when I first experienced it in Italy. I learned a lot from it.
So much of what I saw as we drove around Accra (a tiny bit) today was familiar. People walking, talking, texting, working, shopping--waiting for friends or trying to get to work--these people are living "normal" lives. There is also quite a commercial presence in the city as well. Billboards and placards advertising concerts, cars, hair care products, cell phones, gasoline (petrol), line the streets speaking to the "middle class" consumers all around us. This being the capital city one can only assume that it contains some of the more affluent citizens, living, working, and loving next to the poorest of citizens doing the same. Everywhere this spectrum is visible. Half-completed high rise hotels stand gleaming next to a piles of rubble housing small fires, prostitutes share the sidewalk with women and girls carrying parcels on their heads, guards protect ATMs, men set up stalls along the roadside selling coconuts, carved wood, fresh tilapia, a car filled with mattresses and barbed wire boast affiliation with the United Methodist church. All this in a few miles drive through Accra. This city is alive and modern, and it appears to be in a constant state of betterment--a crucible of possibility.
Service & Study in West Africa Program, Ghana
When I woke up this morning, I opened the blind on the airplane at the perfect moment. I saw Africa stretched out beneath us as we were approaching the coastline. I watched a thin brown line extend off into the horizon-this is awe-ful; I am overwhelmed. As we fly over I cannot take my eyes off the land, which is smoothed out it meet the lapping waves. A new world. I can see the patchwork earth--brown, cream, tan, vermillion-- all connected, slowly building into dirt roads, villages, and snaking rivers. This is Africa. I am here.
As we began our descent into Accra, gliding out of the clouds, I saw green. Grass, large trees, rolling hills--this is not the same desert appearance as before--the land itself is filled with possibility. The first thing anyone notices is the heat as we take our first steps in Africa. This heat is, however, different from the sweltering southern stick we are used to, nor is it knock-the-wind-out-of-you Arizona dry heat. This heat is oven-like, not in an overpowering way, but with a nurturing sense. I was wrapped in it, encouraged by this heat which pressed in softly, all around at once, to continue baking- to take myself from dough to bread. As I remember it now I realize this nurturing element is everywhere-Africa feels like a mother.
From what I've read of the novel so far, I did not expect the people of Ghana to be so welcoming. Admittedly, our interactions with everyday citizens has been limited-but all the people we have seen have been so kind. As we left the airport and walked to our bus, a sweet gentleman came up to two guys from our group and asked where they were from, bidding them welcome. He told them Ghana was happy to have them here and not to hesitate asking for help from people and then he disappeared into the crowd.
Having travelled internationally before, I did not find myself as overwhelmed by the many men "chancing" on the street as the rest of my companions. I knew to expect it and had studied how to politely refuse. I was, however, surprised at the employees of the airport asking as well. That was new to me because usually that practice is for those who are not interacting with you by working in some official capacity at that moment. I think the experience of the crowd was a little too much for some, but it is a good thing for everyone to see. I remember that feeling when I first experienced it in Italy. I learned a lot from it.
So much of what I saw as we drove around Accra (a tiny bit) today was familiar. People walking, talking, texting, working, shopping--waiting for friends or trying to get to work--these people are living "normal" lives. There is also quite a commercial presence in the city as well. Billboards and placards advertising concerts, cars, hair care products, cell phones, gasoline (petrol), line the streets speaking to the "middle class" consumers all around us. This being the capital city one can only assume that it contains some of the more affluent citizens, living, working, and loving next to the poorest of citizens doing the same. Everywhere this spectrum is visible. Half-completed high rise hotels stand gleaming next to a piles of rubble housing small fires, prostitutes share the sidewalk with women and girls carrying parcels on their heads, guards protect ATMs, men set up stalls along the roadside selling coconuts, carved wood, fresh tilapia, a car filled with mattresses and barbed wire boast affiliation with the United Methodist church. All this in a few miles drive through Accra. This city is alive and modern, and it appears to be in a constant state of betterment--a crucible of possibility.