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Concentrated near the beginning and end of my stay in Ghana, these excerpts chronicle my adjustment to Ghanaian culture and re-adjustment back to American culture.
This morning, I was very homesick. I probably cried (alone in my room) for three hours, until my host parents found me. (That encounter in and of itself was not entirely comfortable, but it served as very good encouragement for me to pull it together.) I watched my favorite TV show, tried to nap, looked at pictures from home, called another exchange student, held my teddy bear, listened to comforting music, vented my feelings into Microsoft Word, used my air conditioner briefly, and played Solitaire on my computer, but nothing worked. It was rough. Once my host parents found me, my host father drove me around Tema to take my mind off of home, and then let me get some mercifully tear-free rest in my room.
Yesterday, Priscilla took me on my first stroll through the neighborhood, and I was faced with how much I really stand out. This is logical as well as apparent from interactions with my host mother’s customers. However, people’s reactions were stronger when I was walking through the streets.
Church was harder than I expected, possibly because attending (not visiting) a church other than Ascension made me realize that I would not be home for five months. Upon arrival, I was ushered to the corner of the sanctuary where the English-speaking singles’ Sunday School took place. I didn’t understand most of the points the teacher was saying, but I’m pretty sure we were discussing covenants. After the lesson wrapped up (we might have been there for the last fifteen minutes), a church leader stood in the middle of the sanctuary and asked questions to everyone. I had managed to down enough water to need to use the bathroom, and since I was in my host mother’s care at this point, communicating my need to her was difficult, as the most helpful gestures were not ones I was looking to use in a crowded church. Having taken a little time in the stall to pull myself together, I returned to the service for the offertory. The music was incredible; it didn’t matter that the approximately eight singers and soloist were singing in Twi. The sermon discussed the dangers in “playing around with holy things.” Throughout the sermon, the pastor’s words were translated into Twi by a guy who followed the pastor around and copied some of his gestures and facial expressions. For the prayer/benediction, the pastor told of a recent sudden death and advised that everyone pray that no one close to them suffer the same fate. At this, the entire congregation began praying fervently in tongues, Twi, or maybe some of both. After this, church was over.
Two weeks down, a few to go! Yesterday and today have been fine, and I feel that I am (finally!) content here. I know culture shock will probably rear up again sometimes, but I no longer have two ups and downs every day. I have been blessed with a loving host family, an incredibly kind group of classmates, and even a rainstorm today!
First off, I should give an update on the communication situation with my host mother. It is slowly improving; plain misunderstandings are becoming infrequent. There are plenty of times I simply don't know what she's trying to say, but it is uncommon for me to fully misinterpret her.
Next, I hoped to list some of the things I find myself unexpectedly missing. To begin, as a very visual person, I miss saturated colors on billboards and signs. Secondly, I miss going outside in summer evenings. Particularly after the number of mosquito bites I accumulated over the weekend, staying inside past 5:45pm is a necessary precaution. Finally, I miss printed handouts at school.
The third quarter of the Steelers v.--I mean, February was not without its rough patches, but I made it through alright. I am content to say that four months from today I will be boarding a flight to New York City.
I will revisit the subject of unusual luxuries I miss. One is the education system. We are now halfway through the term, and all I've heard suggests that final exams are entirely unforgiving. However, I'm used to having a multitude of worksheets, essays, and projects, all reinforcing the information we learn. Instead, I have a pile of notebooks (and history flashcards) to cram into my head. To make matters worse, the Ghanaian definition of mastery is memorization, not understanding; recitation, rather than demonstration or explanation (never mind creativity), is the mark of a good student. Not only is this method difficult and devoid of any fun, it is also foreign to me. A second is news. I listen to the radio multiple times a day in the US of A. There is an Accra radio station that plays the BBC World Service round the clock, and that is fun to listen to because that program is on Pittsburgh's NPR station overnight, but what I really miss is the existence of news, particularly--and peculiarly--about the weather. Unpleasant as the current winter sounds, I find myself imagining the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette pictures of freezing commuters and snow blankets. Meanwhile, I can count the cumulative number of weather events I've experienced here--as in, rainstorms--on one hand.
Also on the topic of language, I have a few comments on the process of learning Twi (not that I am particularly far along on that score), which emerged from a completely different language family and culture than any other language I have studied—English, French, German, and Spanish. As a language learner, I must distinguish between the significant and insignificant variations in speech. Examples of significant variations in English include syllabic emphasis and vowel enunciation (i.e. whether the speaker’s mouth is wide, tall, round, relaxed, etc.). Inflection and vowel length are less significant. On the other hand, speaking with Ghanaians requires paying careful attention to inflection and consonants, while overlooking some vowel variation. For instance, Twi-speakers cannot always hear the difference between “letter,” “litter,” and “leader,” but I had to learn to differentiate between “eyeh” with an upward inflection (which means “fine”) and a straighter tone (which means “it is”). Although this was frustrating at first, my ability to hear such things is improving.
From Ghanaian necessities, I turn to my own. Firstly, I am glad to have brought dental floss. My host sisters do not even know the name of the substance because, here, toothpicks are used in its stead. Furthermore, ripping tough meat off the bone with my teeth, I frequently need to floss after dinner. Next, I depend on my flashlight. For my birthday last year, I got a very bright LED one, and it is capable of lighting my room in power outages. In addition, my host sister frequently requests it to illuminate the generator when starting it up. To date, I have brushed my teeth, made Skype calls, eaten dinner, and done jumping jacks with my trusty torch—all thanks to Ghana’s highly unreliable electricity. Last in the procession of useful items is my alarm clock. There are a few hanging timepieces in the house, but none displays a time within five minutes of the correct one. Also, if I needed to ask my host family to wake me, I suspect I would never get up at a consistent time. Had AFS provided me a packing list before I came, I should have hoped these three would have been on it.
Another discussion topic is language learning tips I have stumbled upon—both for Twi and Ghanaian English. To begin, it is important to listen to Ghanaian English in order to gain functional knowledge of Twi words. “Hear,” for instance, is used to mean both “hear” and “understand.” Although I still wince when my host father says, “Do I hear you?” to indicate he has not understood me, paying attention to this misusage (or so we would call it) of “hear” has taught me how to use “ti,” the Twi equivalent. Secondly, I now know to try reassigning syllabic emphasis in Ghanaian English words I have trouble comprehending. For example, Ghanaians emphasize the first syllable of “afternoon” and the third syllable of “urinate.” If that does not work, I ask for the spelling of the word. To close, I have noticed that larger responses are given to show understanding than to ask for clarification. If my host father does not make a loud “eh-heh” or fervent nod, he probably has not understood. By the same token, he will continue to repeat his point until I make it obvious that I do not need to hear it again. All in all, I have been slightly surprised at how difficult Ghanaian English has been to master and at how much Twi I have grasped in less than four months (not that I am anywhere near fluency, even for simple household conversations).
One thing I have grown accustomed to is waking up with the Sun. I have never had trouble sleeping and, although I rarely slept past 9am or 10am, I could have, had I wanted to. 6:20am always came unreasonably soon, and I woke more than once thinking my alarm clock had erroneously gone off too early. Now, however, I open my eyes around 5:45am every morning. My earlier bedtime undoubtedly plays a role, but I believe that is also a natural reaction to natural light. My curtains might be drawn, but sunlight still streams in at that hour. I have not used my alarm to get up since last term. I hope it is indeed a bodily response to daylight, though, because otherwise I will return to Pittsburgh with five months’ practice of getting up at 2am EDT!
Well, I started with 23 weeks on the clock, and that has now shrunk to about 23 days. It is strange to think I am almost finished. I will not be so cliché as to call it bittersweet, but there are some conflicting emotions involved. Mostly, though, I just have trouble figuring it out. I think I felt similarly as I approached my US departure. I am too much of a daredevil to fear the unknown, and if my exchange has taught me one thing, it is to set no expectations. Maybe my feelings can best be summed up as puzzlement.
Today was my first day of summer break, but that milestone feels worlds different when one is alone in that boat. Everyone else I said good-bye to today will be going to school Monday, even though I will not be. There was no palpable excitement that I associate with the last day of school. That is not to say that is was unpleasant. On the contrary, I had a great time snapping photos with friends and roaming the campus with the freedom brought on by an impending departure. I included some of the pictures. I hope they give you a better sense of what the school campus looks like.
“What have you missed the most while staying in Ghana?”
Unsurprisingly, anonymity comes to mind. People take note of my every move—walking in the rain, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. That is completely understandable, and frankly, I find myself doing the same thing to any other white person I see. Nonetheless, it is a bit wearing to feel like everyone is keeping tabs on me. More than that, though, I miss the aromas of America. Partly, that is brought on by food cravings (i.e. I want to smell bagels because I want to eat them.). But I also long for the scent (or lack thereof) of well-maintained cars and clean buildings, pine trees and fresh snow. I suppose it is logical that the immersion in all things “home” is what I most look forward to.
“What will you miss about being where you are? Will you long for anything Ghanaian, be it rain on roof or shape of trees?”
I will miss the unhurried nature of conversation. I enjoy the attentiveness with which people listen to one another. For example, if I am telling Priscilla something, and her mother calls her, she screams, “Coming!” to her mom and encourages me to finish what I had been saying. In most cases, an initial discussion takes precedence over a requested one. Crucial to this custom is the patience with which a newcomer waits for his or her turn to speak. Even though there is a threshold at which point the waiting person will become frustrated, that event generally occurs later here than in the US. An American child’s request for her mother to wait might gain her 15 seconds to finish her conversation, whereas Priscilla gets closer to a minute. A similar pattern can be observed when I wish to accompany a classmate to the Canteen but need half a minute to put my notebooks away. I would expect irritation to develop at the 10-second mark in America; however, in Ghana, I easily get my full 30.
Being the American that I am, though, adjusting was not a breeze. More than anything else, I attribute my successful transition to the love I received, especially from my school friends. However, there were a few personal qualities that I found and depended on in myself in order to survive psychologically. One was resilience. As awful as I felt at some points, I typically bounced back within an hour or two. Mood swings are exhausting, but they beat a stable level of depression. Resilience is fueled by optimism, another trait I needed a lot of. Sometimes, having conscious optimism borders on the impossible, but I think I possess a decent amount of subconscious optimism that kept me going through the rough patches and helped me resist the temptation to make ultimatums. Lastly, this exchange required a good deal of stubbornness and grit. Pigheadedness is a powerful force, and it stopped me from throwing in the towel on a couple of occasions.