Classes, Cramps & Clubbin’ to Kumasi- The Two Part MegaUpdate

Since I’m late with this post, I figured I'd make up for it by filling you in on everything that's gone since I last updated. So, instead of a normal installment, I'm writing an epic double post today. Enjoy.

CLASSES, CRAMPS & CLUBBIN- MegaUpdate Part I



Classes haven’t begun yet, but I’ve already gotten pretty acclimated to campus. I’m glad I have, because registering for classes here is more than a little challenging. Each department has its own building (like the African Studies building pictured above) in the 4 square mile campus, which is a little different from the six-block setup we have back in West Philly. Also unlike Penn, there is no automation of administrative processes, so there’s a lot of walking involved when it comes time to pick classes. Basically, each department lists the courses it’s going to be offering in a thick comprehensive registrar book students call the “bible.” For some reason, the courses listed in this book aren’t always the ones actually being administered during the semester, so it’s still wise to peep the postings departments left outside during the shopping period. The next step is to wait in line (excuse me, “queue”) outside of the department and fill out a registration form for each department. This is usually easy since most students only take courses in one department, but for exchange students with too many interests it can present some difficulty.

Somehow, I got around campus and finally got registered for the following classes: Politics of International Economic Relations, Regional Development, Theories of Social Development, and Twi. Classes don’t begin until tomorrow (the 27th) but Twi has already started for my group of int’l students. Our teacher is brilliant and a lot of fun, but I could probably do with a few less fufu references in the classroom. Dude’s always making me hungry. Anyway, I finally got my independent study together too, so it looks like I’ll be doing some of my own research this semester. Basically it’s going to “explore the neocolonial relationship between third world African nations and first world Western nations” using Ghana as a case study. I’m linking up with the chair of the Poli Sci department here, so I should be getting the ball rolling on that pretty soon. I’ll provide more details once I get further into it.

What would an abroad experience be without a lil’ bout of traveler’s sickness? Yea, I’m lucky I had no plans last Thursday morning, because I was in bad shape early in the day. I’ll spare you the details and take a second to send shout outs to the makers of Imodium, Maalox, and Pepto Bismol. Good looking out, ya’ll. So after some digging through my handy “red bag” and a cab ride to the campus pharmacy, I was ready for Twi class and some clubbin later that night. Me, Jason, Ashley, Ama, a few of Ama’s friends from her program, and our Ghanaian friends Trigga and Kakra ended up at Club Cinderella for the evening’s festivities. Although we heard Thursdays are usually pretty fun around here since most club’s have ladies’ night then, none of the spots we hit were really poppin’. Knowing the club was sparsely filled, we got to the door and met a promoter/hostess/all-around diva named Diamond. (or was it Princess? Something extravagant, I don’t really remember…) Before we entered, she reminded us it was ladies night and also said there would be a rap contest. *lightbulb!* Half joking, I asked if I could get free admission if a rapped. For some reason, she had no problem letting me slide in, but unfortunately Jason didn’t convince her with the same story. We got in, and the place was pretty chill. Diddy must have slipped the DJ a few cedi’s last time he was in town, because I haven’t heard that much Bad Boy music since Biggie was alive and kickin’. The music selection was interesting- about 50% American hip-hop and R&B, 40% Caribbean reggae and dancehall, and only a couple of African tracks. Cultural imperialism is very real, people. Needless to say, there was the usual colorful cast of club-going characters in the house: the mean-muggin’ thug whose insecurities are almost outnumbered by the amount of jewelry he’s rocking; the bald dude with the extra-medium Euro-shirt who needs a lil’ more time in the library and a lil’ less in the gym; and the cat who comes dressed fresh-to-death but somehow only musters up the courage to dance and vogue with himself in the mirror… you get the idea.

Anyway, a few hours passed and we’d pretty much been keeping to ourselves when the hostess approached us again. At this point, I’d pretty much forgotten about my commitment when she beckoned me to the DJ booth. Awww snap. Jason and I decided to go with the flow, and the two of us ended up being the only MC’s in the house. We both kicked a few written rhymes from the DJ booth and moved the crowd a bit until our hostess reminded us it was a competition. The prize? Nothing other than a bottle of Ghana’s finest cheap champagne… ahh, scrumtrulescent. We ended up freestyling at the end, getting at each other and throwing in a few random Ghanaian references to get some local brownie points. (“I’ll eat you like fufu, you’re a straight a fool dude/ and I got the throne like Osei Tutu.”) We finished off Apollo style after a close race, and I (the “fair-skinned/yellow brotha”) got more applause than my opponent (the now-infamous “Rasta Mon.”) Victory was mine, and it was cool moving a crowd in another content. *Cues “International Players Anthem.”* We got home pretty late, and slept a few hours in preparation for the next day’s excursion to…

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KUMASI- MegaUpdate Part II



Kumasi is basically Ghana’s second city to Accra, and actually served as the region’s capitol in the pre-colonial days. A lot of students here call it home, and most Ghanaians recommend it as a travelers destination for any tourists. It’s the home to the palace of the Asantehene (explanation to follow), Kwame Nkrumah University, and the largest market in West Africa. We hit the road bleary-eyed a little after 7:30 AM, after packing in sardine-style for about 4 or 5 hours, we arrived at the palace of the Asantehene. I could have sworn we would have reached Burkina Faso after such a long ride, but apparently we were still in the land of Nkrumah at midday.

I’m faaar from an expert, but I can share a brief history lesson: The Asante (or Ashanti) are the largest ethnic group in Ghana, play a huge part in Ghana’s history. They expanded to a large empire in the pre-colonial era through expansionist warfare, originated kente cloth, and have a whole lotta gold. They’re well known for a lot of reasons, and maintain a traditional royal structure that is based on a matrilineal system of succession. While Ghana is under the leadership of President John Kufour and the New Patriotic Party, there remains a strong element of traditional leadership comprised of Chiefs and Queen Mothers that are officially recognized by the state. I may not have covered it all, so just hit Wikipedia if you wanna learn more. Anyway, the seat of Asante power is at the palace of the Asantehene, the leader of the people who has great religious and political power. We visited there with whole ISEP group and got a pretty thorough tour of the grounds filled with relics, artifacts, roosters and peacocks. It was a great tour, but since we still hadn’t eaten the Oburoni’s were getting kinda restless. After another amazing meal (one of these days I need to dedicate a whole post to Ghanaian food. If there weren’t so much walking to do here I’d probably need to call Al Roker’s surgeon when I got home.) We hit up some local markets, which was basically the same deal as last time, then arrived at Nkrumah University.

Legon’s International Student Hostel is far from ballin’, so most student housing would be a step in the right direction for us. Little did we know that Nkrumah U’s new Engineering Guest House is MTV Cribs material. Well, at least by my current standards. I’m talking running cold AND hot water, full beds, TV, and *gasp* air conditioning! I really never wanted to leave. At 9ish on Saturday morning, we continued our never-ending quest to single-handedly revive and stimulate the Ghanaian economy. Just like last time, we hit up a bunch of markets and still got harassed by the relentless hawkers that have begun to haunt my dreams. We also visited a village where pretty much all residents played a part in the production of kinte cloth and printing. There were kids on the looms, women and children pounding timber, and guys printing and selling their products. It was one of the more human experiences I’ve had here thus far, and I really enjoyed the interactions I had with a few people there.

Since I made it clear I had little money to spend and no intention of purchasing, I didn’t have too much difficulty building with a few people on a personal level. One dude named Melanie was really chill, and for some reason insisted that I actually resembled Kwame Nkrumah. His friend actually approached Ashley with a complimentary cloth and apparently asked her to present the item to me as a gift. He said that he liked me, and after she told him to take the direct approach, he kindly offered a beautifully imperfect black and white cloth adorned with Ndrinkra symbols. There are a wide range of symbols that are used on these items, but the two that were printed on my cloth represented unity and the Golden Stool. I was honored, as the Golden Stool is the symbol of the Asante people that is said to house their collective soul. It’s the source of power, provided the basis for their leadership, and even ignited a war with the British some years ago. Since I had learned a bit about the relic before my trip here, I was really taken aback at this kind gesture from someone who requested nothing in return. I’m always hesitant to take pictures with people when I’m on vacation for a few reasons. One, they often ask for money, but more importantly, it indicates a fetishization, or worse, dehumanization of a people unlike yourself. This mentality, which plagues a lot of travelers to third world countries, is what I call the “British Anthropologist” syndrome. I mean, think about it. If you were on vacation in Amsterdam, London, or even San Francisco, would you really be trying to pose with a bunch of white kids in the street? I don’t think it would be as much of a novelty to show your friends back home. Are African kids living in a small village any less human than their counterparts in the first world? But I digress… I’ve seen this perspective manifested by a lot of other Americans on the trip, and I try to avoid it as much as possible. Anyway, after some thinking, I snapped a shot with my new friend, and since Jason, Ama, Ashley, and I plan on visiting Kumasi again soon, I told the dude to look out for us in the future.

The last market we visited turned out to be the largest in West Africa. It was as bustling as anything I’ve ever seen, and since I was marketed-out at that point, I opted to stay in our bus. Fortunately, Jason and our ISEP coordinator, Ms. Theresa Kwakye (an African American expatriate married to a Ghanaian) felt the same way. We had a really interesting discussion in the hour waiting for the rest of the group, and it left me in a really pensive mood. Since Ms. Kwakye (pronounced “qua-chee”) has lived in Ghana for over 20 years, she has a unique perspective into life here. We talked a little about our reasons for coming here, and I learned a lot about life within Ghana. She explained to me that the government publicly promotes a sense of Ghanaian nationalism that was promoted upon independence 50 years ago. However, with a large number of varying ethnic groups within the nation, there is still a degree of separation between groups. This idea also came into play when we started talking about our upcoming trip to Cape Coast, the site of major slave exportations in years past. Understanding that (at least early in the trade) Africans were willing participants in the exportation of fellow blacks into slavery, I asked how Ghanaians felt about the legacy of the Trans-Atlantic trade. She explained that there were mixed, interesting feelings about the practice, but stopped there, as she didn’t want to skew my perspective on the Cape Coast trip before I experienced it firsthand.

While I knew that African empires such as those in Ghana held slaves and traded them to Europeans, I learned the vast majority of slaves in Ghana actually came from the north. So, my whole “walking in the land of my ancestors thing” isn’t quite applicable yet. She explained that the Tamale region, an area in the far north of Ghana, was the home to most slaves exported. She also said that their development was stunted as a result of severe population loss, and that they still occupy a lower rung on the social hierarchy in the country. I suddenly came to the difficult, but seemingly-obvious realization that I would never know exactly where my people came from. Apparently, the palace of the Asantehene, the site of the University here in Legon, and everywhere I’ve visited thus far are the homes of those who sold my ancestors into bondage. I know a lot of people would say I’m splitting hairs at this point. I beg to differ. Looking to African from the U.S., it’s easy to say that traveling to the Motherland will show me where my roots are. Since we’re largely ignorant of the cultural divisions and variation that occur beyond arbitrary national boundaries, a lot of African Americans are in for a rude awakening when they arrive here. I can’t help but have a slight feeling of disappointment knowing that I haven’t reached the exact location of my ancestors, but now I have this insatiable desire to get as close as possible. This quixotic vision has been in the back of my since I got here, and I’m not even sure what it will take to satisfy my need for fulfillment. I guess you can call it an obsession with Sankofa.

Later that night, we chilled in the hotel after dinner and enjoyed the amenities while we could. Somehow, I ended up at a table talking race politics with about 10 white girls from my program. Ashley was off campus visiting a family friend from Kumasi and Jason was on the phone with wifey upstairs, so I actually rapped with these girls for about 2 or 3 hours. We talked about our reasons for coming to Africa, the awkwardness and division between black and white students on the trip, and the concept of blackness and unearned privilege. I think we’ve a felt the same kind of divide you see between races at high school and college campuses in the states. The only difference is that the white students (surprise surprise!) seemed to notice this dynamic for the first time now that we’re in a predominantly black environment. I explained that, to me, I’m a little more prone to congregate with African American students here since we’re entering the situation with a shared experience and similar perspectives. For the same reason, the white kids here tend to cling together as well. You may call it racist, I call it human nature. Either way, I was careful to emphasize that I was speaking as one person and I could never represent all black people. I also said that even speaking with my good friend Jason would show them that there is no monolithic black experience or perspective. Luckily, I didn’t turn into the black spokesperson that we are often called upon to become in predominantly white classrooms. It would take a while to recap more specifics of the conversation, but suffice to say I left the encounter a bit more appreciative of my white colleagues than when we entered.

Classes begin tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll be the deer-in-the-headlights all over again searching for lecture halls this week. I’ll be posting as classes settle in, and we still have our Cape Coast trip next weekend, so stay tuned ya’ll. As always, if you’ve read this far, thanks for tuning in.