June 28: Cape Coast

The next day we drove from Accra to Cape Coast.

It was about a 4hour drive..maybe more. Stopped on the road to get fruit and pee..thats about it.

I noticed people treating me a little differently because I was black (of at least mixed as far as they could tell) and a foreigner. I would hear people talk amongst themselves, I caught small phases like Obama or black american. A security guard at the mall the day earlier pulled me aside personally and told me that if I was a Black american than the means I am Ghanaian and that mean I am home....well...Im half Native American with a little bit of mystery blood in me but I wasnt about to argue with a man carrying a night stick.

I just couldnt wait to get away from the group and explore by myself and chill with some black Africans...part of me just really wanted to wonder into a crowd and disappear, In the group I stick out..I have to listen to all the complaints and all the ignorance and not say anything because I knew them in there white arrogance wouldn't want to hear about themselves and It frustrated me because...we're in Africa..why do I have to deal with you AT ALL?!..yea the faculty likes to say that where ever we are on a school trip we still represent Northeastern, but Northeastern didnt birth me, Northeastern isnt on this trip listening to the 'girl scoots' in the back seat bitch about how 'hot it is' when its only like 70 out side and 'omg how do they wear their hair like that"..so as far as im concerned my blackness comes first because despite all the other things in my family, society treats me like im black so there you have it.

We finally got the Cape Coast University. To me the entire area seemed...safe...to someone from the NorthEast I guess its like leaving Boston and going to Newport or the more 'urban' parts of Connecticut I guess....its -clearly- not a big city, more like a compilation of small towns real close to each other with and a few small markets. It was a good area though, I learned to love it once I made friends but thats further down the road.

We were staying in a part of campus called Sasakawa. We had little Chalets with 1 bathroom and two twin beds....and lets just say Chalet #5 was shady but it was cool cause we were far enough from everyone else to make get aways with out any tag alongs.

That night every one went to eat at the Sasakawa restaurant, which mostly served visitors and grad students it seemed like. I took one look at the menu and as soon as I saw pizza I knew this place wouldnt cut it. I didnt come this far to eat pizza and fries in an expensive ass restaurant, I dont even do that at home.

The sun got darker earlier since the seasons shift. Rachel and I wandered around the campus at night trying to find any life forms since the place was so dead. We headed toward Valco, one of the bigger dorms on campus. We ran into an off duty security guard who felt it was his personal duity to walk protect us and show us the area. Inside Valco we found small stores and a litte restaruant. Nkruma hall, the dorm next door to Valco had the exact same thing. our tour guid was getting a little to into his job so in an effort to get rid of him and just chill we settled on some Fanit kenkey and watched the world cup game they had playing on the big screen in one of the huge function halls. We got extra attention (A) because Rachel is a white girl with long blond weave in her hair (B) we where the only girls and were sitting up front.

Fanti Kenkey::

Kenkey is basically a tamales before they put the meat and sauce in it...and more fermented..for people who have no culture at all or just dont know anything about tamales or kenkey lets ask wikipedia:

Kenkey or Dokonu or Komi is a staple dish similar to a sourdough dumpling from the Akan, Gaand Ewe inhabited regions of West Africa, usually served with a soup, stew, or sauce. Areas where Kenkey are eaten are southern Ghana, eastern Côte d'Ivoire, Togo and western Benin. It is usually made from ground corn (maize), like sadza and ugali. Unlike ugali, making kenkey involves letting the maize ferment before cooking. Therefore, preparation takes a few days in order to let the dough ferment. After fermentation, the kenkey is partially cooked, wrapped in banana leaves, corn husks, or foil, and steamed. There are several versions of Kenkey, such as Ga and Fanti kenkey.

• 6-8 cups of corn (maize) flour or cornmeal (ground corn or ground maize); (White cornmeal is preferred, it should be finely ground, like flour. Latin American style corn flour, as is used in tortillas, tamales, pupusas, etc. is the right kind)
• Banana leaves, or maize or corn husks, or aluminum foil to wrap dough in (the leaves or husks may be available at African, Asian, or Latino groceries

There you have it

June 27: Accra

All I wanted to do was step off the plane and find the nearest world cup party seeing as how Ghana beat the US the day before we left.

We got the the JFK airport with a 5 hour layover. Rachel and I booked it over to the gate where out connecting flight would be taking off and waited for the group so we can have them watch ourstuff. As soon as they got there they were trying to pull us into a game of Scrabble....that was our cue

It was about a 12 hour flight from NYC to Accra. I boarded to plane eager to switch seats and sit next to Rachel, there was no way I was going 12 hours sitting next to 'crazy eyes','glasses','hippy chick','weed head','New Hampshire',or 'biggie' with out a comedic buffer. I mean I didnt know that much about any of them to not like them so to me they were just random people I was stuck with...

'New Hampshire' gave me attitude as soon as I opened my mouth....I knew there might be a clash with this one....aw man, I was not trying to deal with American bullshit in -AFRICA-..

"Im not switching unless I get a window seat" she said all snoody

-New flash dummy- NONE of us have window seats....I had an isle seat the closest thing she was going to get to a window seat. but i guess she was still too good for that so i kept it moving.

.....

Fresh off the plane::

Prof. Panford had to sort out some luggage issues.

A group of school kid were on a field trip visiting the airport and instead of taking pictures of

them from the bus like the rest of the group, I decided to hop out and go talk to them. After all, this was not a trip to the zoo, you dont just point and laugh waiting for them to do tricks.

I introduces my self to their teacher and

borrowed a soccer ball from 'hippie chick'. Every one worked up the nerve to get off the bus aswell but instead of interacting they

stood there and order the kids to sing and dance for them....

1/2 hour later we hit the road. Accra didnt really seem like it was meant to be a city. Lots of low rise building and dirt road high ways. People lining the streets walking through traffic selling anything they could carry on their heads. National geographic or CNN would have you thing African countries are all still underdeveloped but on the way to the hotel we passed car dealerships, five star hotels, banks, government buildings, bars, clubs, restaurant, and stopped at the mall to

change money. It was just like the upper class malls at home. All designer stuff, too expensive for my taste so I went to the groshiery store and grabbed some rice water and a bottle of 8pm Rum.

......

Next stop was the Cristal Plam hotel.

I didnt sleep that whole slight plus the night before I was up late so I was ready to pass out.

It didnt seem like anyone took these things into account cause we were put right back on the bus after an awkward orientation given to us by our TA Ebenezer; every one was half sleep through the whole thing..

Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum::

Kwame Nkrumah was the first president of Ghana, this was a memorial park where his final remands were placed aswell as those of his Egyptian wife Fathia Nkrumah.

The park was beautiful, lots of cultural elements were tossed in so you get a distinctly African feel. All of the architecture was by Africans. On the other side of the mausoleum were fountains with sculptures of African dancers that used to play instruments in the celebration welcoming kings and chiefs.

The Nkrumah museum itself was kind eerie. I know he was a big guy and all, I mean people loved him and he did a hell of alot for his country but these people kept EVERYTHING. Stuff he himself probably didnt even care that much about; old coats, college dorm furniture...

Once we left the museum. We stopped to eat at a this gas station franchise with Pizza of all things on the menu. The group was already starting to form clicks so I had no problem leaving to explore what was around the town. I bought so local fruits and vegetables that I could cut up with my pocket knife and eat when ever. I ended up buying a Black Star jersey too.

MARKET PICKS:

The Send off:: June 26

I passed out in Sasha's bed after a long night staying up with some friends, drinking, and trying to convince my grandmother she should drive me to the airport in the morning. Some where along the line I realized how much of a brat, it seems like I pissed off alot of family members all day. I wasn't particularly concerned about how I was getting to Logan I just knew I'd get there when I get there. Guess I was just too busy trying to see all my friends before taking my first trip abroad...

..just ended up paying for a cab the next day.

6am...it was a pretty short ride to logan

I was beyond tired, didnt at all the night before thinking that I'd fight the jet lag by sleeping on the plane....FAIL!!

July 9th::The Road To Kumasi

After a 6hour bus ride through the rain forest, we stopped in a Kente cloth weaving community called Bonwire. Half way sleep through the whole ride I had to straighten myself up before getting off the bus looking all types of Native with my hair freshly liberated from braids.

Climbing off the bus I could help but be a bit confused at my surroundings. Where were the loom? The cloth? Anything?. Just another shanty little town with kids bargaining with me other things I never agreed to bye in the fist place. I dug into my bag for loose bills hoping 30 Cedis and bargaining would get me all the material I wanted. After my sleepiness wore off my natural Boston instinct kicked in an I was ready to leave the group and explore myself until I notice that my Conrad Rachel had drifted off and the group separated into two. Panford insisted that I fallow him in the second group no and despite not wanting I guess there was a first time for everything so I fallowed along. I was a little confused that this Kente weaving community was unusually small for something said to be home to the finest Kente in the area. I expected busy streets and looms on every corner.

Clumsily meandering through side streets fallowed by street kids still trying to push useless paraphernalia in our faces, the group finally came to a stop in a clearing were the buildings seemed to open up into haphazard plaza and we were reunited with the other half of our group. To the left of me I could scarcely see a commotion going on infront of a wooden long house. Shortly after I learned that is where the –serious- kente weaving took place.

Once inside the long house all small time hustlers were locked out and the weaver took there place. Some were between the noses and the shoving in the narrow walk way of the long house I was able to recognized some familiar American accents. I didn’t really miss physically being home at all but I still felt good to know fellow black Americans were in the vicinity. It’s a weird feeling knowing your not completely at home in America but still sticking out in Africa. I guess I just missed tho familiarity, being able to speak to a black person that used the same type of English I do and shares a similar sense of humor.

The path along the walls of the long house were barely big enough for two people to walk side by side. Making my way around the one big room, It is impossible to ‘just look’. Weavers are ready to sell and the patterns and colors were unheard of. Eager to find the perfect purple material to bring home to my girlfriend I couldn't resist toughing ever one I saw, comparing prices. but people there don’t just tell you the price and let you walk away. The have to pull out the whole 6yard long piece of fabric and give you a million reasons why you should buy it from them. Of course me not having the “you must buy” from me bit, I try to reject as kindly as possible and go about my way taking as few snap shots as possible to avoid being the obnoxious tourist. Not having the slightest clue about fabric and dress making made it all worst as I tried to negotiate prices. My base length was 2 yards but of coarse everyone wants to tell you the best type of dress u should try to make and of coarse its going to need 6 yards of material and of coarse the only person with 6 yards of that particular material is them. PHA..i wasn’t having it.

Aggravated that my chaperons failed to communicate the fact that this would be our first stop, I hadn’t had the chance to change money, but of coarse this was all my fault because I didn’t have the syllabus and/or didn’t hear them correctly or some other non sense excuse they continually use to pass the baton of blame from administration on the me the student. Yea right. Any how, I settled on just being satisfied with my pictures since I didn’t barley have enough money and apparently there was no way we were coming back to this place again.

Hats off to the great communication and planning.

But our hotel room was AMAZING!!!

4am Slacking

Its 4am. Here I am at Rachel's ant infested Mac Book trying to catch p on entries I haven't done yet. This blog is going to be one big back track. We've already been here for a week and this is the first thing i typed. O well.

How Im feeling So Far::

Me being a naturally stand off-ish person. Im not to big on the whole group thing. Especially being that 80% of the group on this trip are white American sorority girls and "save the earth peace corp types who have little to no knowledge of anything African what so ever (besides Obama maybe). Im not knock'n them though. I just think its important to know who and what your surrounded by.

Background::

Before I come off sounding like a Black nationalist whitey hating anarchist, let me just say a bit about how I grew up, being that we are all products of our environment.

Boston born and raised and don't care what anyone has to say about it, I love my city, don't care much about America, but I love my city. I spent most of my life in Roxbury, Dorchester Jamaica Plans with weekend trips to see my mom in Cambridge. If you know anything about these areas you know they are all predominantly Black, Latino and Asian. My preschool is a Black owned Non-profit soaked in Afrocentricity. this is something I over looked but i just finished their web site so the whole structure of that place has new meaning to me. Basically what im trying to point out here is that since birth I have been surrounded by and overwhelming sense of pride in African American heritage. Every book report, science project, children's stories, you name it, had something to do with Africa/the diaspora.

That's the short version of me I guess. My favorite person (if you would call it that) is Huey Freeman from the Boondocks.

Nuff said.

Fast Forward::

Based on that I hope you can see why going to Africa with a bunch of sorority girl tourists is not exactly what I signed but for but I am here none the less.

I still made it to Africa.