Thanks to Drew, the majority of the program is now addicted to Bone Thugs-n-Harmony's "Tha Crossroads." My iTunes tells me that I've played that song 18 times since adding it on the 11th. Pretty soon it's going to surpass the number of times I've played "Seasons of Love."
RENT. Reminds me of Deborah. I feel like Deborah and I just broke up, and I am trying my hardest not to think about her. We bid her farewell last night as she frantically rushed to the airport. Why the hell do I miss her so much? The girl lives in New Jersey. Maybe I cried because I know that like her, I was going to leave Ghana. Like Deborah, I will not be returning to Ghana anytime soon. Like Deborah, I'm leaving behind some of the sweetest people I've ever met.
I am going to admit that one of the reasons why I love Ghana so damn much is because I have no real responsibilities here. More than that, I have no concerns. No job that requires me to wake up at 6:30 a.m and wipe ass all day long (to put it bluntly). Mom isn't worried that I forgot my cellphone, and she isn't imagining that I am being sexually assaulted in some dark alley (when do I even walk through alleys?). Not to mention this has been, by far, the easiest semester of my academic career. I believe I studied harder for my high school classes than I did for my classes here.
This is not to say I haven't learned a thing during my time here. It has been a significant learning process where I found out more about the world and myself then I ever knew. Before I left NYC, I was convinced that studying abroad in Ghana would be different from studying abroad in the other sites, and by "different" I really meant more important. True, I can't speak for the other countries, but being in Ghana has truly been a unique and beautiful experience- one that I will never forget. From celebrating Ghana's 50 years of independence to the very emotional trips to slave castles- it has been terrific. What a time it has been for me here in Ghana. Five months of excursions, beaches, and delicious Ghanaian food. Life here is pretty damn sweet, and my being a foreigner here has a lot to do with it-- and I am very aware of that.
Could I ever live in Ghana long-term? Probably not. At times, it is aggravating being in Ghana as a foreigner. It would be different if I loved attention, but I don't and it is what I get everytime I walk down the street.
To shift to a more positive note, I will NEVER forget the hospitality and friendliness I have experienced here from perfect strangers. For example, wonderful people who will go out of their way to help you find the right tro-tro (that's what we call lorries here). In New York City, it's a shock if someone asks you how you are doing. You would probably assume that they're either 1) crazy or 2) expecting something from you. Here in Ghana, it's the complete opposite: you expect people to ask about you and if they don't, then something is wrong. I really hope that I don't lose this when I go back to the city. I don't want to go back to my old ways where I would be walking down the street and all I care about is my playlist.
People matter. Communication matters. Caring for and about people really matters.
Five people in the program have decided to stay in Ghana for an additional three weeks. Even if I didn't have to pay a cancellation fee of $1200 for my ticket, I wouldn't stay in Ghana. Do not get me wrong. I love Ghana. It has been the most amazing five months of my little life. But it is time to go home. It's time to pick up where I left off. See old friends who I've missed so much. Spend quality time with my family. Continue working the job that I so often complain about, but know deep down that it is meaningful and worthwhile.
In four days I go back to New York City, but I know that I will never fully leave Ghana behind me. When I hop on the F train again, I will think about the stuffy tro tro and being so cramped that my neighbor's armpit is sweating directly on my shoulder. When I use my hands to eat food, I'll think about the delicious fufu and how people are usually very surprised to see me finish it all. Walking down the ice cream aisle will result in a craving for FanYogo and FanIce. White rice will not do it anymore- I need my jollof. When I pass by a fellow New Yorker, I will smile at him and ask him how he is doing. He will probably give me a dirty look, and I will continue to smile because it will remind me of Ghana and how I would've gotten a "Mepaakyɛw, me ho yɛ" instead.
