Ghana Blog 2: Operation Oburoni

Ghana Blog 2: Operation Oburoni 

This week is my fourth week in Ghana. Surprisingly, time is flying by. On Sunday I will have a little less than seven weeks to go until I return home. While seven weeks may seem like a long time, given the amount of work and hopeful adventure I have ahead of me, it should be a fast paced few weeks. Initially adjustment was quite hard, but I’m starting to enjoy the simplicity of my little life here in Ghana. Yes, some daily challenges become bothersome – arguing with discourteous Taxi drivers, bartering for almost everything, and having the electricity go out leaving you without a fan in the incessantly hot and humid weather. However, I have come to welcome some of the aspects of my life here. 

Though some people are cautious of foreigners, or “oburonis” as they call us (a name for white people), a few have adopted our group of students as their own. Recently we have met a woman through a friend, Señorita, who has been our social life liaison, telling us the best clubs, and offering to take us to excellent restaurants. She is a student and a businesswoman . She has given us her personal insight into the ins and outs of Ghanaian life. Being born in Rwanda, she has a somewhat removed aspect from typical Ghanaian life, which has been insightful. She speaks of the differences in work ethic compared from Rwanda to Côte D’Ivoire, where she has previously lived, and Ghana. She acknowledges the differences in paces of life, the food, and home life of couples and families. 

This past weekend she took us to Coco Lounge, an upscale restaurant with some of the best décor I’ve ever seen, located in Airport City. My friend Benita joked, “this is the Africa they never show you.” While in many developing nations the disparities between rich and poor are often evident, many people don’t fully understand the degrees to which wealth can vary. In my experience, many people often focus on the poorer sectors, ignoring the technological advancements and general growth. If a United States citizen were to drive through Airport City, the glamorous part of town, it might feel like a slightly more quaint, but Chicago-type city, with skyscrapers, large windows, and nice landscaping. In other areas, such as Osu, there are extravagant business buildings and luxurious hotels, but also accompanied by street vendors, the informal work sector selling random goods, and small-scattered markets. 

In general, I have been living my life at two different extremes. My first week here, I was taking sponge baths out of icy water from a bucket (which was filled from a “drip by drip” leaking faucet) and living off of my box of fiber one bars, too afraid to eat any food that wasn’t Jollof rice. In contrast, this past weekend I experienced Coco Lounge, as previously described, and also SOHO, a high-class nightclub with everyone offering to buy us bottle service, hip trendy music, and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Honestly, I only imagine clubs like this in big cities in the United States. In fact, according to my friends, there are no clubs as extravagant even in Ann Arbor. We also visited a bar called Shisha Lounge, which is similar to a typical hookah joint, however attached to the regular seating area, which is half inside and half outside, there is also an adult style tree house (favorite thing ever… going to build one when I’m ~adulting~), and lavish night club, complete with a handy bathroom attendant who pumps the soap for you and hands you your paper towel to dry your hands, talk about royal treatment. 

Going out to clubs in general, is a fun pastime for people of my age group; nonetheless it has been truly interesting to meet different people here. I met a group of Europeans, who have randomly picked up residence in Ghana, and somehow found each other, making a European expat gang - all white, lanky and slightly awkward men. So interesting how people of similar races flock together. At the time I was the only “white American” among my friends at this club, and I was the single girl approached by this group of guys. I talked to many other Africans as well, but it makes me wonder about race relations here, a topic I am not very educated on, admittedly. Rather, I am trying to learn through observation. 

On another note, it is true what they say - Ghanaian men are quite forward. I joke with my friends here often because in the United States, I barely talk to men at bars. I usually go out to be with my friends (#GNO). However, in Ghana I have already received a marriage proposal! Obviously the man must have been joking to an extent, but I have never experienced such forward behavior in my life! They’re persistent, and only back down when they accept my multiple attempts to tell them I’m spoken for. Overall, what I can attest to is this: Ghanaians know how to party (I’m not at SKEEPS anymore).  

We have also become close with a law student who recently lived near us in our dorms. She has taken us under her watchful, maternal wing, and shown us places around campus (shout out to you Adzo!). Jenny recently wanted to get her hair braided, and Adzo escorted us to a salon. Before coming to Ghana, I knew little about “black hair culture,” as Jenny informally calls it. I knew most black women had difficulties with their hair, however I never recognized the process women have to endure! The hours they have to sit at the salon! I’ve complained for years to my mother, a cosmetologist, about how long it takes to color my hair, highlight, or cut. However, in the states I’ve recently learned it takes up to 6 hours for a woman to braid her hair! Even so, the braids only last just over a month. On top of all of that, it costs anywhere between $120-$200 USD to have this done, at a moderately priced salon. If you’re not getting braids, you can get a weave, however these are even more expensive and require more upkeep (S/O to Beyoncé, can you imagine how much she spends on her incredible hair? The real question is, given her black women empowerment, why doesn’t she just wear it natural?). Then it is also necessary to recognize those who have their hair relaxed, a painful, long process, which allows the hair to lay flatter, a poor description on my part. However, this causes long-term damage and is hard to maintain. In Africa, because braiding is more common, it is much cheaper, costing just over $20 USD. The stylists were impressively fast on Jenny’s braids, taking about 2 hours. At the salon, I had some women try to get me to try braids as well, and I’m actually considering it, because… why not? When in Africa! (I also had a guy tell me I’d look like Alicia Keys circa 2005, but I’m not sure that anyone can live up to that standard). Perhaps I should take a poll – braids vs. no braids? Thoughts? 

In our other free time, Jenny and I have been trying a lot of new restaurants. On campus, we have very limited food options because the school year is done, many students have gone home, and small markets and cafeterias have closed or operate at odd, unregulated hours. Usually I eat a mango in the early afternoon after doing some work or going to the gym. Mangos have quickly found their place in my heart, and I intend to eat as many as possible, knowing the mangos in the United States will never live up to the flavor I experience here. We buy our mangos each day from the same market vendor, Howa, who greets us with warmth, calling us her “darlings.” I love becoming a “regular.” Later in the day, I eat my first and only real meal of the day. It’s not like me to eat so little, and I often feel slightly rude at dinner because I stuff my face out of hunger. Thank goodness the portions here are huge! I think my stomach has shrunk though, because I often can’t finish my dinner, which is not like me. I am a foodie to the core. I did manage to fit a whole pizza in one day though, but there’s always room for pizza, am I right? Perhaps I’ll make it my mission to find the best pizza in Accra. Thus far, it’s a tie between La Piazza and Shisha Lounge – best pineapple pizzas around, yum.  

Our current favorite restaurant is called Chix and Ribs, which I imagine is like a Ghanaian Chick-Fil-A, with burgers and ribs added to the menu (then again I have only been to Chick-Fil-A once, so maybe this isn’t an accurate comparison). I have fallen in love with their cheeseburgers and Jack Daniel’s Sauce. If you’ve ever ordered of the TGIFriday’s menu, you’ll know the sauce I’m talking about. As an avid lover of condiments, I was thrilled to have this option on the menu. Having Chix and Ribs only ten minutes from campus might be dangerous for my weight and cholesterol levels. At least it’s relatively affordable. 

There are also a variety of Chinese options here, as well as Thai places. Apparently these types of foods are generally well liked in Accra.  Jenny and I, after dealing with a seriously lost and rude taxi driver, eventually made our way to a restaurant called “Thai House” which we found literally to be a family’s home with a restaurant built into it – talk about hole in the wall. I fully believe small, off the beaten path restaurants, are always the best, and this one lived up to standards! I missed having spicy foods, and it was good to get my Thai cravings somewhat satisfied (Yes, I was a little sad because they didn’t have my favorite, peanut curry noodle). 

Other than that, we’ve experienced a variety of places with a variety of options. I had authentic American pancakes at Starbites Café (LOL at the name). We had a New York Style bagel at Tyson’s Bagel Bakery, which was overpriced, but worth the extra cedis for the extremely friendly service we received. We also dined at some of the fancy hotels in Accra, of which I will never, ever be able to afford a night’s stay. We had an unlimited lunch buffet at the Movenpick Hotel, which cost $30.00 USD, and although the price was steep, we ate our body weight in the desserts. The miniature berry cobblers were absolutely divine. #NoRegrets.

I have also been receiving a lot of questions about my research. Yes, I have been living, more or less, a vacation style life in Ghana for the first three weeks of my stay. I have had various meetings, however I was unable to start research because of some miscommunication between my mentors, as well as unforeseen obstacles with scheduling and lack of Internet to fully communicate back to the United States. I am pleased to announce that today we began pilot testing! Jenny and I will be continuing pilot testing tomorrow, and making final alternations to the survey this weekend while we prepare for data collection next week. In the next month, we will be going to three different clinics in the Ga East district of Accra and working with a translator and staff to gather data on facility based trends, antenatal care, and birthing complications. While it was frustrating to wonder when we would begin, it was a valuable lesson to some of the pitfalls of cross cultural research, and understanding how vital communication really is. I have also learned the power of my own voice while I have been here. Being put a new environment, in a new school, with new superiors always is a transition process, however I have truly comprehended how important it is to speak my mind and express my ideas. Sometimes I believe, as students, we fall into traps of which we assume professors are the ultimate authority of research and education. I have found my perspective as a student has helped clarify problems and implement solutions, and my superiors usually respect my sentiments. Of all, I think this is the most valuable lesson I have learned here, especially entering into my senior year of college. Eventually I will be in the real world, and I will need to be confident in all aspects of my job, research related or not. 

It was quite enlightening to talk to the women today at the clinic we are conducting pilot testing at. Our pilot population is very different from the women in the Ga East we will be interacting with, according to my advisors. We are piloting at the University of Legon Hospital, a private hospital which covers employees for free and everyone else, “out of pocket.” A women compared her experiences at Korle Bu, the largest public hospital in Ghana, to her experience at the UG – Legon hospital, and based on her emotions alone, I could tell how the differences in facilities impacted her deliveries. While I cannot assume much from one woman’s testimony, it makes me eager to talk to more women. She was more than happy to share her experiences and answer our questions, and then some, elaborating on more of her story. Our study is quantitative, but part of me wishes we could ask more qualitative questions. The study we are working on has been going on for about three years, and will continue into the future. Perhaps a qualitative component will be conducted later on, and I would be anxious to hear what women have to say. While I understand the benefits of being able to quantify answers for statistics and trends, hearing the women expound into not only the events of the deliveries, but their emotions and thought processes, was incredible. It was wonderful that women were so open with us, which I am sure is difficult at times, talking about something so personal.

Some of you may know that while I have been here, I have also been in and out of the hospital due to some medical complications that, unfortunately, were not resolved as expected upon departure from the United States. While it has been scary to be away from home with medical concerns, nonetheless in a developing nation, it has also given me an interesting perspective given the topic of my research. While I am not pregnant and I have never experienced giving birth, after having my own experiences with doctors here, it has enhanced my general curiosity about the conditions of the various medical facilities.  

*I want to preface my experience by saying that everything I write on this blog is based on my personal reflection and should not be taken without a grain of salt. Just because I disliked the doctors and care I received, does not mean I am unwell or received a poor diagnosis. 

What was most striking to me about the care I received in Ghana, was the difference in patient and physician relationships. I saw four different doctors during four different visits to NYAHO medical clinic, a private, upscale emergency center. Three of the four doctors never looked me in the eye; rather they looked past my head toward a wall or at the screens of their computers. Many seemed removed from my problems and concerns. In fact, upon given an IV treatment, I asked about possible complications or side effects of both the IV and prescription pills to which I was told there would be none and I would be “totally fine.” However, after experiencing severe, debilitating back pain and researching the medications further, I found there was an extremely long list of potential side effects and upon feeling pain I should have contacted my doctor immediately. I also felt the clinic was particularly unorganized compared to the facilities in the United States. I had to come back to the clinic on various occasions for lab work and an ultrasound, which in the United States would have been taken care of immediately in an emergency setting. My ultrasound results were also given to me in paper form, compared to the computer databases used in the US. Although records were kept on computers, test results were given to patient and they were responsible for bringing them to each visit. The appointment times were also not followed. I was once scheduled for 11:00am, but didn’t receive care until 1:00pm, while walk in patients went ahead of me, making me confused as to how patient care time slots were structured. 

I am not attempting to say that the way in the United States is always right or the best example in general or in the field of medicine. I fully recognize that many other countries around the world have better health outcomes than we Americans do, despite the fact that we spend an obscene amount more on health care than anywhere else. I found it interesting that my personal experience in an upscale, private clinic was so poor, and I wonder how other patients feel, specifically women. I wonder if I was a man, how the doctors would have treated me? Would they have answered my questions? Would they have made eye contact? Even the women I spoke to today recalled an experience at a public clinic in which she described her treatment as “inhumane” and how many of the nurses were “intolerant” of her needs due to the overcapacity of the public facility. While she stated these feelings with intense emotion, she was almost forgiving to the doctors, nurses, and midwives as if understanding the strain they must be under due to the extreme need for care experienced there. It’s shocking to me how a successful, intelligent women, employed by the best university in Ghana would be treated in such a way, nonetheless during the delivery of her child. It is saddening to know that any woman would ever categorize her treatment in that way. I am eager to talk to more women in the coming weeks. 

As a cohort, all of the MHIRT students in Accra had the opportunity to visit a couple of tourist locations as well. We visited the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park, Kakum National Park, and Cape Coast’s Elmina Slave Castle. While I could write an entire post on each of these events, I will try to be brief. 

Kwame Nkrumah, a well-known political figure and activist in Africa, is known for uniting Ghana, as well as being one of the faces of Pan-Africanism. While I cannot recall everything I learned or read about him in the museum and memorial, I was inspired by his action and also saddened that a man as incredible and renowned as he had never come up in any of my education. Growing up in middle and high school, we were required to take a variety of history courses- APUSH, European History, Western Hemisphere, Eastern Hemisphere, etc. While I can recall facts about the Terracotta Warriors in China, the cultural differences between the US and Japan, the Roman Empire, the colonization of the Americas… I do not ever remember specifically learning about any sub-Saharan African countries in depth. I do recall, however, having to know the geography of Africa, as well as climate zones, but none of the major events in history. For me, visiting the Kwame Nkrumah memorial was a reminder of how much more knowledge exists for me to know in this world, and while sometimes I like to be a “know- it- all,” at the end of the day, I know nothing. Visiting and talking to the workers, reminded me of the United States privilege we have, as well as how the information we are often given is swayed in a way to favor the United States. While in the US, Kwame Nkrumah might be displayed in certain books as a socialist, and potentially even a communist sympathizer, he was the face of hope for people in Ghana, and much of Africa. Many might not know, but his downfall can be attributed to a US CIA coup. While at the time, I would like to think the US government used its reasoning and judgment for arranging his downfall. It is just a reminder that sometimes we stick our noses in places they don’t belong, and perhaps our intervention isn’t always needed – a lesson I also learned after diving into readings and listening to lectures about United States involvement in Latin America. These are just my personal thoughts, and I am nowhere near the most educated on politics or history. People say the United States is the “best country in the world,” and I truly love where I come from. The United States will always be my home. The word “best,” an absolute statement, is something I take more with a grain of salt these days… I wonder about the impact our society and government have on the world, is it all as positive as we would like it to be? I don’t have the power or knowledge to make that judgment. Food for thought.

The Kakum National Park was pure fun. We walked on rope bridges through the canopy of the rainforest. While it was a busy day, it was a really cool experience to see a rainforest. I cannot report any animal sightings, but I did see some interesting lizards and beautiful butterflies. I honestly cant remember the last time I saw a butterfly in the US, other than at Fredrick Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park in Grand Rapids, which has an exhibit devoted to butterflies alone. I thought I would be scared, but I was pleasantly surprised when I was only filled with excitement. Perhaps my fear of heights is diminishing? 

Our last excursion was to Elmina Castle, one of the slave castles on cape coast, the other is called Cape Coast Castle. Many African Americans can trace their ancestry to Cape Coast Castle, including Michelle Obama, however we were unable to tour this one due to time restrictions. The Portuguese originally built the Elmina Castle in 1482. It is the oldest European building south of the Sahara desert. Overtime, the castle became an integral part of the Atlantic Slave Trade. In the 1600s, the Dutch took power in this region, continuing the slave trade originally set up by the Portuguese. Later, British seized power from the Dutch. Around the seventeenth century, much of Western African trade with Europe was concentrated on slaves, exchanging for textiles and other goods. Slaves were caught by slave catchers or given away by local kings or rulers. The castle served as a holding ground for the slaves, until the ships were available to take them across the Atlantic or to Europe, depending on the time period. Many from Elmina Castle were taken to colonies in South America, particularly modern day Brazil, a Portuguese colony at the time. 

While in the castle, we had the opportunity to visit the different slave quarters, and walk through the small, famous “door of no return” of which slaves would walk through to be placed onto the ships, which led to their enslavement. 

We were told about the different quarters. The most striking to me were the women’s dungeons. Around four hundred women and six hundred men at a time were kept in the castle. The small, cold, dark rooms for the women had an ominous and specific, indescribable smell. Women were made to excrete in the corners of the dungeon, and, according to our tour guide, had to menstruate without any materials. While I knew that women were not given anything, hearing the tour guide explain the conditions in detail, while being present in the actual room gave the story a new, raw meaning. Women were often selected to be raped by government officials, and troublemakers were chained to a heavy cannonball in the middle of the square. Women who were selected to sleep with high-ranking officials had to climb a ladder up to the quarters. As I stood there, in the small square, I eyed the cannon ball, imagining women resisting the treatment, being beaten but fighting for their lives. I imagined the women being selected and having to climb the ladder in front of their peers only to be subjected to more cruelty. I thought about my family, and how women must have felt being separated from their siblings, their husbands, and their children. I wondered where I would have fit in. Would I have fought for my freedom just to face severe, inhumane, and public punishment? Would I have been quiet and strong? Would I have been weak, and let death take me before slavery could? 

I looked at the color of my skin, and I thought about how it would have saved me from such decisions. I looked at my friends touring with me, my girlfriends with Western African ancestry, my kind hearted, warm, smart, and witty new friends, and I wondered what they felt at that moment – knowing it was too personal to ask. 

I wondered about if I were a European woman at that time, would I have had a slave or multiple? Would I have been wealthy? Would I have succumbed to the poor treatment typically inflicted on other human beings? What would make me so different from everyone else? 

We walked into the dungeons of which only “troublemakers” went. One was marked with a skull and cross bones. In that cell, slaves were placed to die. Slaves were starved to death, left to sit around other rotting bodies, simply waiting for their fate. We stood in the dungeon, as our tour guide closed the door. So many years of decay and the ominous atmosphere of death surrounded us. I thought about the men that might have been placed in this cell. I thought about men I know… Strong, competitive, stubborn men who would have fought back for their freedoms and the liberties of those they loved. I thought about the bravery it must have taken to commit any act so great to be put in that cell. I imagined the grief and the fear that such strong human beings must have felt waiting for the unknown. I thought about being placed in that cell. Would my faith have been enough to comfort me at that time? If I was a wife or daughter of a man in this cell, could I have said goodbye? 

Elmina was an astonishing place to experience. It is hard to express my emotions about it, given the complicated and noteworthy history, but also acknowledging the terrible things that happened there, as well as the impact it has had on the entire world. My friends who have not yet visited are planning a return trip in a couple weeks, and I might tag along. I’d love the opportunity to visit the Cape Coast castle, and grab a book or two to read up more on the history of both sites. 

On a mundane note, I have also started to study for the GRE (how riveting). I am hoping to use my spare time wisely by memorizing obscure vocabulary words and relearning math I was tested on as a 15 year old. Can you tell I hate standardized tests? 

Before bed I like to read. I just started the book, Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian academic known around the world for her amazing, thought provoking novels and public speeches. Many know her for her cameo in Beyoncé’s hit song “Flawless.” So far the novel has followed a young woman’s life growing up in Nigeria and eventually moving to the United States. The novel explains her adjustment to the struggles of being an immigrant and holding on to her home and home culture in her heart. It has been a very enlightening read given my knew knowledge about African culture, African American culture, and how the two intertwine. After finishing this novel, I am going to try to read some of her other famous novels including, Half of a Yellow Sun. 

If Ghana has changed me in any way, it would be in my speed of life. Normally, I walk fast. I talk fast (and mumble). I speed from one event to another – Point A to Point B. I am incredibly type A, and lack patience for anything or anyone who moves just a little too slowly or is late, given my undeniable punctuality. Yet here, I walk slower. I eat slower. My blood pressure has also significantly gone down (I monitor it often given I stress out more than the average Joe). While I have some responsibilities, it is really nice to have freedom, knowing at the end of the day I am here for a purpose, hoping I help make a positive change on this world.

To sum up, I am finding my own little slice of contentment in Ghana. I do find myself frustrated at times, missing the small conveniences of America – the ones we take for granted. I miss knowing all bathrooms will have toilet paper, and I miss the way my laundry smells after my mom takes it out of the dryer (doesn’t it always smell better when your mom does it??). I miss my fluffy pillow from Ikea, and my toaster. I miss wrapping up in oversized blankets and wearing fuzzy socks around my house. I miss speeding down the highway belting Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car.” Although I miss all of these things, I know there will be things I miss about Ghana too. It’s always the little things, the small daily activities that go unnoticed until they’re gone. I am happy to report my small victories here in Ghana, and I am excited to continue this adventure. 

Besos, 

B

P.S. Again, I apologize for the lack of pictures. While writing this, it occurred to me how little pictures I take of my daily life routine. I’m going to try to take more time to properly document my experience via photos.