Since it was mentioned in a comment in my previous entry, I figured (since I have some time to kill), that an entry on the process of adusting to life here in Africa would be worthwhile.

As loath as I am to admit it, I have gone through the three phases that we were told to expect at our pre-departure orientation. The first few weeks in Ghana were definitely honeymoon time; everything was new, fresh, and exciting. A random power outage? How quaint! I just got laughed at by a crowd of Ghanaian college students? How funny! I nearly got struck by taxi? How exciting! It's funny how, when an experience is totally new, the brain tends to chalk it up as somehow being a fun and pleasant little diversion, an adventurous romp into the unknown for just long enough to taste the new and unfamiliar. It didn't help that we were traveling around a bunch, either - orientation felt more like being on a week-long conference vacation, which only added to the problem..."hey, it's vacation time! I'm going to click the heels on my ruby slippers together come Monday and have hot water again!"

And then the new and unfamiliar becomes the familiar and patently annoying. By week 3, the temptation to flip off taxi drivers for honking because I have white skin (and thus must be incredibly rich and lazy) was growing, and I came EXTREMELY close to cracking on one day. Between the taxis, the heat, the annoyances of a "professional friend" (a Ghanaian whose livelihood comes from "befriending" white tourists/students to get business as a laundryman, tour guide, drug dealer, etc...mine offered me all of the above services, all of which I declined), my body only just getting over being in full revolt against the heat and the food, my overwhelming desire for some Mexican food, and getting very openly laughed at by Ghanaians while having them yell "hey Jesus!" at me resulted in a week or so of sheer, unadulterated anger and frustration at the world in general, Ghana in particular. Add trying to cope with the emotional fall-out of homesickness and the depression triggered by my anti-malaria pills, and I think you can understand why I was not my usual self for a few weeks. Kevin back home doesn't spend afternoons curled up in a ball on his bed, staring at the wall and listening to sad music on repeat.

So, I did the only thing I could do to keep sane, which was to work overtime at making friends, devote plenty of time to taking care of my spiritual health, and going out and doing fun stuff, and...it worked. It kept me distracted and in higher spirits, and then one day I woke up and realized that it didn't bother that the water wasn't back on yet when I went to go take a morning shower, or that I had to take 45-minute bus ride just to pick up a package (which I had to open in front of an official and then pay for), or that I seem to be a constant source of amusement for the local population between my appearance and attempts at speaking Twi. I've just come to accept that I'm in Ghana, not Texas. Having first world expectations in the third world simply does not work; the water will go off here whether I want it to or not, the traffic will be atrocious and keep me on the edge of my seat no matter how much I might fantastize about the orderly traffic on the interstate, it will continue to take weeks for mail to make it to me from back home no matter how many times I might go check and see if there's anything new for me in the ISEP office. This is West Africa, and it's different here - all I can do is accept that this is not my home turf and that the rules of play here aren't the ones to which I've become accustomed over the past 21 years.

Coming to that realization has made life immeasurably easier, and I think I understand life a bit better than I did before January 13th. If absolutely nothing else, I'm getting along much easier now than I was a few weeks ago - you just have to let things roll off your back, take a deep breath, and then go have a smile and a Pepsi to beat the mid-afternoon sun.

OK, so about those pictures...to say I've been having difficulty finding a place from which I can upload them would be a bit of an understatement. I'll probably just suck it up today or tomorrow and pay the ridiculous 12,000 cedis for an hour over at AfroNet just so I can have ready access to a USB port. Sometimes, the simplest things take forever and a day to get done over here...

Of course, that's not to sound either as if I'm complaining or else have just discovered this fact. After closing in on two months here in Ghana, I've gotten used to it taking longer to do everything, and if it doesn't take longer, then it requires some extra effort on my part - best example being finding a restroom. If I'm out and about on campus, it can take 30 minutes to find an unlocked bathroom, and chances are about 9 out of 10 that there won't be toilet paper in it. If I'm back at the hostel, the bathroom IS just a minute walk away from my room, but I still have to remember to take my own toilet paper, and there's no guarantee that the water will be running - I've taken to testing the water any time I go into the bathroom by turning on a sink before I get in the shower or claim a stall.

I think I appreciate certain convenient aspects of life in the U.S. a bit more now. It's so easy to get fed up with the ridiculous commercialization and vapidity of contemporary American culture and society, and there's nothing wrong with that - if you're not outraged by what you see on the news and TV every day, then you're probably not paying attention. However, there's a lot to be said for public utilities that, generally speaking, work all the time. Running water IS your friend, as is electricity - haven't had too many problems with the latter, but the former...we've had to go 3-4 days at a time without running water in the hostel; it got so bad that we all started taking bucket showers with water from the reservoir pump in the courtyard. The amazing thing is that our hostel has the MOST reliable water on campus; apparently, the other residence halls are lucky to have running water once every week or so. Keep THAT in mind the next time you feel the need to gripe about some minor inconvenience with Res. Life. I remember getting mad last semester because our drain kept clogging, but at least we had water. For that matter, we had both hot AND cold water, rather than merely the latter. Of course, you don't really need hot water in this weather, so I haven't missed it much as of yet.

Meanwhile, I'm finding my mind going to immigrant communities quite frequently these days. I can't help but wonder if I'm getting a slight taste of what it must be like to live as an immigrant. As much exploring of Ghanaian society as I've been doing, I still find that, at the end of the day, I like hanging out with other international students, most usually Americans and Canadians. We stick together, and nobody really seems to think anything is off with this - the number of international students who spend equal or greater time with Ghanaians than with other international students is extremely low. There is a certain comfort that comes from sharing your experience in a radically different culture with those who are going through the exact same process; you understand and empathize, and you don't mind listening to somebody gripe for 20 minutes about getting stared at constantly, or having every passing taxi honk, or having a crowd of Ghanaians make fun of you in Twi or Ga while all you can do is just smile as they laugh their heads off at the stupid obruni. I think I understand why, at the end of the day, immigrants tend to seek out other members of their cultural community - there's a sense of belonging there that is lacking in the outside world. I don't feel like I belong, at least for more than a few months, in Ghana when I'm walking through the Madina market, having people yell "obruni! Hey, white man!" while trying to drag me into their shop. I feel a bit more like I belong when I'm with a couple of Americans who just had the same draining experience at the Madina market, listening to Bob Dylan and talking about our families and friends back home.

That said, the game is worth the candle (as my Russian friend would say); my time in Ghana has been, and will continue to be, worth every minute of lousy water supply and sticking out like a sore thumb or, well, a long-haired white guy in Africa.

Update time! This entry is basically just weekend travelogue, so be forewarned. The weekend was indeed an adventure, as all my weekends here have tended to be, and the adventure started up on Thursday evening with a welcome durbar for the international students held up at the Great Hall. A durbar is a gathering or feast called by a chief for his/her people, and so it was - the Vice-Chancellor was the official host of the evening, even though he only showed up in time to eat. Typical. They had traditional drumming and dancing, which was very cool until they started making the obrunis get up from the dinner table and get down with them. I was one of the proud and not-so-few who got roped into dancing with them for a while; I'm personally amazed my gyrations did not scar anyone for life. Saying I'm not confident in my dancing skills would be a vast understatement, and so being dragged out to join professional African tribal dancers in their traditional African tribal dances was...a bit awkward, although ultimately fun. And yes, there are pictures of this, and no, you can't see them.

After the durbar (which was truly a great time, and the food was delicious), we were invited to take the International Programs bus out to a Canadian student's house for a wine and cheese party. Not having anything to do, I went out and it too was a fun time. You have no idea how much I have missed dairy products over the past month. They even had my personal favorite, smoked gouda - I don't know how they got it, but they did. It was a pretty big fandango, with some guys drumming and half of the international students in attendance, but it was a nice time to chat with some of the folks I didn't know as well yet. After we had wined and cheesed enough for the evening, some of my friends decided that nachos at Champ's (only place in Accra with Mexican food) sounded good, so I tagged along. The nachos frankly leave a little to be desired, but any port in a storm...

The next morning, the ISEP group left for Kumasi. Kumasi is the capital of the Ashanti people and is the 2nd largest city in Ghana. It's 275 Km from Accra or so, but of course an hour and a half was added on to our trip by a traffic jam in the middle of nowhere between Accra and Kumasi. Some of us, needing to "greet the chief" as they would say in Ghana, had to go scutter off into the bush to take care of that pressing biological need. Of course, the other guys who went at the same time as me wouldn't shut up about the possible presence of snakes in the bush around us, which added an element of paranoia to the experience. We finally made it to Kumasi and went first to the palace of the Asantehene, the Ashanti chief. The royal animal is the peacock, so we saw plenty of them strutting around the palace grounds. After the palace, we went and shopped at the cultural centre, and then went to our hotel. The hotel was an absolute paradise - hot water, comfortable beds, and AIR CONDITIONING. This was the point at which I realized just how much my body's ability to handle heat has changed in the past month - my roommate and I both were getting chilly at 26 C, which is only about 78-79 F. We froze ourselves down to 21 C (70 F) overnight so we could use the blankets, which was a first - half the time I don't even need a top sheet here since it's usually around 30 C (86 F) in my bedroom at night.

The next day, we went...shopping. Shopping for crafts in Ghana is an adventure in the realm of the pushy salesperson. I have NEVER been that hassled for that long by that many people; it was like walking into a dog pound with a porkchop tied around my neck. The woodshops were the worst; one man selling purses would NOT leave me alone; I finally had to get back on the bus and slam a window in his face just to get the point across that I had no interest in buying more stuff from him! Bonwire, the kente-weaving village, was much more laid-back, and I bought 3 strips of kente to use someday as stoles. Of course, in the midst of this, I got majorly hassled by either the village madwoman or the village transvestite (I couldn't tell whether the people said "she's mad" or "she's a man"; I'm leaning toward the first, but it's too close to call). This individual came up and grabbed my butt when I was trying to go check out another kente shop; a local boy then glommed on to me and warded her/possibly him off in exchange for my purchasing a few bracelets. I felt bad, and still do, about the episode, especially if the person was mentally ill, but...I have nothing but sympathy now for waitresses, etc. who constantly have guys grabbing at them. Unsolicited grabbing of certain parts of the body is NOT pleasant.

I also got hassled for my American address right and left, so I am now Kevin McBurney who lives either at 412 Conduit in Annapolis, 224 Ashbury in San Francisco, or (for those Canadian moods) at 121 W. Pender in Vancouver. I've heard horror stories about neverending streams of mail from random Ghanaians if you give out a real address, but sometimes they just won't take no for an answer, and so...I give them one, albeit not a correct one.

We went to lunch after Bonwire, then to the city market in Kumasi, where I bought a cd of some Ghanaian hip-life music...Kwabena Kwabena, to be precise. We dined again at the hotel, and then Jesse, Joy, and I sat around and talked for a while, which was nice. The next day, we left after breakfast to come back to Legon, and excitement ensued on the drive home. On a really abandoned strip of dirt highway, our bus battery decided to die while going up a hill. Not good. Well, we thought perhaps we could get it to start if we pushed it, but no such luck. We ended up with around 20 white people behind the bus, pushing and making Ben-Hur jokes ("ramming speed! BOMBOMBOMBOM"). And then, in one of those perfectly cinematic moments, a water truck started making its way up the hill. These are the trucks that spray water on dirt road surfaces to keep the dust down. It sprayed us. Hardcore. Then, the bus started to slide backwards when we were pushing it, prompting a fairly loud outburst of profanity from the group as a whole and a mass exodus of flailing white people from behind the bus. Any Ghanaian watching was probably having an absolute field day. Finally, a truck came by and jump-started us, and the rest of the trip passed without event. It was a heck of a weekend, though.

I'll put pictures up when I'm able; I need to get Joy to send me the best of the ones she took while the rest of us were pushing the bus!

Another Monday, another update here at Malaria Mondays! It's been a week of settling-down here in Legon; classes are all starting up in earnest, so I've been developing a bit of a routine. Mondays I have no class, so I usually spend the day resting and doing some basic housekeeping - getting needed supplies, email and blog updates, taking care of any academic business that needs to get squared away, etc. Tuesday mornings I have drumming from 9:30-10:30, and I plan to volunteer at an orphanage a few towns away from 11:00-14:00 or so, and then Twi class is 17:30-19:00. I usually just hang out on Tuesday evenings, but there's always the occasional trip into Accra for dinner. My Wednesday and Thursday schedules are both in flux right now; I'm changing up my classes a bit, and those are the affected days. I'm free as of Thursday evening at 19:00; Thursday night has become Jazz Thursday, as a number of us have developed a major fondness for a jazz club near the airport that has live music on Thursdays. Friday also has a special designator - Beach Friday! Some of us have taken to going to the beach every Friday afternoon to take in some sun and splash around in the cool waters of the Gulf of Guinea.

The weekend here, just like it is back home, is pretty random. I've travelled about every weekend so far, and that doesn't look to be changing anytime soon. This past weekend, my travel crew (Justin, Jenna, Ginnie, and Jesse...my "K" name throws off the groove in our little circle of adventurers) went back to Volta region, this time down the coast to Keta. It was...an adventure, to be sure; we nearly ended up in Togo at one point because of some severe communication barriers between us (who speak no Ewe) and the tro-tro operator (whose English vocabulary was about as limited as our Ewe). We also decided that we could all five fit in two really small beds if we pushed them together; suffice it to say that was disastrous, and I slept on the floor. The tile was not quite as uncomfortable as I thought it would be, truth be told. Oh well; we only paid about $2 apiece for the night, so I can't really complain given the price. On our way back yesterday, we got stuck in a tro-tro with 30 other people. 35 people in a tro-tro that could maybe comfortably seat 22. It was a very long drive back to Accra...

Last night was the Super Bowl, and a bunch of decided to be stereotypically American and go to the one place in town showing the game. It was a fun night; completely and totally American, but still fun. On the way back (at 3:30 AM; kick-off was at 23:00!!!), we had a little adventure; our taxi was pulled over by the police, one of whom was brandishing an AK-47. The three officers were going to arrest our driver for running a red light, but the driver came back over to the taxi, made us pay our fare (plus an extra 5,000 cedis), and evidently bribed the police into letting him go. Welcome to West Africa, I suppose. You always hear stories about widespread corruption in the government and law enforcement, but I hadn't experienced it in Ghana up to this point. Ghana has a very clean record in terms of governmental corruption, especially compared to some of the nearby nations, like Nigeria. Nonetheless, it exists here, and it was still a bit surprising to see a police bribe actually take place.

So, that's been my life for the past week. This weekend, the ISEP group is going to Kumasi, capital of the Ashanti region and 2nd-largest city in Ghana. I'll update next Monday with pictures and (knowing me) plenty of stories about the crazy/quirky things that happen to us on our trip. Apologies for the lack of a real entry last week; we experienced a few days of technical difficulties, followed by a lack of opportunity to upload photos, so I decided to wait until this week. Scroll down to the previous entry for a few pictures - nothing too spectacular this time around, but good memories, at least!

More photos from Ghana, all from the Volta region east of Accra along the Togolese border.

1. This is our tro-tro that we took from Accra out toward Hohoe. We broke down at the Ho-Hohoe junction and spent an hour or so killing time on the side of the road. During our break, we found out the answer to one of life's timeless questions when we saw a chicken cross the road to avoid being hit by a speeding tro-tro. So, now you too know the answer to that most ageless of questions.

2. The Ho-Hohoe junction sign. I'm not entirely sure why I find the whole Ho-Hohoe bit so amusing, but I do. Ho is the capital of Volta region and was actually the administrative center of German Togoland before World War I. After the war, the German holdings in Africa were split by the British and French; the French got Cameroon and what is now Togo, and the British got Namibia, Tanzania, and a sliver of German Togoland that became a new region in their Gold Coast colony. That region is...the Volta region!

3. Tafi Atome village, home of one of Ghana's monkey sanctuaries.

4. The remains of Fort Prinzenstein, a Danish slave fort in Keta, also in Volta region. The fort more-or-less marks the end of what was known as the Gold Coast and the beginning of what was designated the Slave Coast, which ran from Keta (or the mouth of the Volta, depending on who you ask) across present day Togo, Benin, and Nigeria - some 5 million Africans from the Slave Coast were transported from Africa to the Americas, Europe, and the East Indies to work as slaves. Fort Prinzenstein was a moderate sized fort and operated as a slaving center for about a century. The slave trade, and then slavery, was abolished, and the fort foundered, and so the Danish sold it to the British in the 1850s.

5. The beach in Keta; it's not one of the most striking ones I've seen so far, but it's pleasant. Keta is on a narrow isthmus between Keta Lagoon and the Gulf of Guinea. This picture is of the Gulf; the lagoon is much shallower, lacks sizeable waves, and is a muddy brown color.