India... I probably will not be able to process it until I'm at least 40 years old

There is no way I can possibly write about everything I did and saw in India without publishing a novel on it so we’ll try a different set up other than this whole “day by day” thing.

Indian customs is obnoxious. They changed their rules three times before we got off the ship. One minute we need our customs sheet, then customs and passport, then no passport, then both again, and then only passport. It took two hours to get off the ship!

At first India’s overwhelming. The first thing that hit me as I stepped off the gangway was the obscene amount of dust in the air and the heat. The first thing we heard was the constant honking of horns which we later found out to be 24/7. There’s a transportation pyramid which goes as follows: cars are at the bottom, then bicycle rickshaws, individual bicycles, motor bikes, and then auto rickshaws. If you choose to get in any type of transportation vehicle it’s like taking your life into your own hands… good luck! Lanes don’t matter and rickshaws will cross into oncoming traffic whenever the driver desires. The scariest moment was when I was driving one, or at least attempting to, and the driver kept handing me the steering back while we were dodging through oncoming cars and pedestrians. It’s amazing that accidents and traffic related deaths don’t happen more often. Remember in Morocco when I said the traffic cops are the most useless jobs ever? Yeah, well Indian traffic cops are giving the Moroccans a run for their money.

The next thing to hit you is the poverty. I never thought the caste system would be so straightforward and it was honestly too much to bear at first. The untouchables line the streets at night sleeping under anything they can find. I can’t imagine they sleep very well with all of the traffic going by. When we arrived at the train station in Delhi at 5:30am, the platform outside of the gate almost looked like a mass murder had happened. Families were lined up one next to the other sleeping. It was one of the most depressing sights I have ever witnessed and I wish I had gotten a snapshot, but it wasn’t morally possible for me to further deface those who have already basically been dehumanized by their own people.

The poverty continued on the train to Agra. Outside my window there were little towns that were visibly overpopulated. One of the most moving sights I saw in India was as the sun rose and the people of the village were scattered around a field all praying and worshiping their Gods.

Waiting on the train platform for our returning train back to Delhi was probably one of my most intense experiences.  For some unbeknownst idea Semester at Sea thought it’d be a good idea to give 68 kids food before the train and have them stand on a platform full of untouchables. Kids surrounded us immediately begging for food. They would tug on our arms and try to pull it out of our hands. They would walk around stuffing food into their shirts, collecting it for later. I remember wanting to just break down and cry, but I couldn’t let myself. This was their lives. It was all they had. And all I could do was ignore them and look forward as if they weren’t suffering next to me.

I made it to the Taj in Agra. It was an incredibly sight and when you walk in under the arch of outside walls and see such a majestic building in front of you, it really does take your breath away. The emperor built this after his wife had died to simply honor her in an enormous way. I’d say he succeeded. The grounds were scattered with thousands of people. My friend Shelly and I sat there watching the bustling crowd trying to take it all in. At one point a man pointed a camera at us and began to take pictures. We thought it was funny until we turned around and realized there were three teenagers posing behind us. Then we found it hilarious.

The day after the Taj we flew to Varanasi, one of the most holy cities around. If you ever make it there, or to any part of India for that matter, don’t be shocked by the amount of cows and dogs. They roam freely around the streets. At one point we turned around and saw a cow lying in a silk shop, but that’s normal for India. Cows are the holy animal while dogs are symbols of sin.

That night we took bicycle rickshaws to the Ganges River. Riding in that kind of traffic in a bike is much more horrifying than when in an auto rickshaw. At the river we witnessed the even ceremony that worships the Ganges. Hindus young and old gathered to watch seven performers  move to the music and offer flowers to the river while burning incense to create a peaceful atmosphere.

The next morning we took a sunrise boat tour down the river. People of all ages gathered in the river to clean themselves physically and mentally and to worship their Gods. For the amount of people there, it was the most peaceful experience of my life as the sun rose over the eastern bank of the river. As we continued down the mighty Ganges, we stumbled upon the cremation area where a fire was already burning. Cremations are done daily, some say 24/7. It’s an honor to be burned and have your ashes thrown into the holy water. A deceased woman awaited the fire on the stairs and was covered in orange and gold cloth to celebrate her life. We didn’t watch the actual cremation, but it was still pretty powerful to see.

I realize this is only an overview of my six days there but to be honest I haven’t even been able to process the first one. India is dirty. Dust fills the air and garbage and human waste lines the streets. Despite all of this it is a beautiful country I felt honored to spend time in. Not once did I feel in danger. The people are nice, the food is amazing, the prices are cheap, and every day is an adventure whether it be stumbling upon a cow in the markets or escaping death in a rickshaw. Definitely a place I WILL return to.

Mauritius!

October 14th, 2010: I’m sorry, where are we again?

Some of you may be wondering where and maybe even what Mauritius is. It is a small volcanic island off of the east coast of Madagascar and a little bit past the island of Reunion. As we pulled into the port of Port Louis all we saw were the tall buildings of the city center being surrounded by lush green mountains. It has a population of 1,300,000 and was originally under French rule but now is under the British. When the dodo bird was not extinct, Mauritius was its home and despite being extinct for almost 400 years, the bird is what Mauritius is known for. The island has no army because, well, there’s no one to fight with when you’re that far out into the ocean, and they have a navy of 11 ships. The island also does in fact have a Mauritian National Soccer team and won their first Olympic medal at the Beijing games. Our driver explained that despite the location, the island is still very connected to the outside world via television, cell phone, and internet. At our diplomatic briefing the only thing the consulate said was that more than anything, Mauritius wanted to be respected.

As soon as we stepped off the ship, Sam and I headed for a cab to get away from SAS people and into the heart of the island. Our driver took us to the southern coast to see Chamarel Falls while giving us a bit of a tour along the way. We realized that there is nothing really “official” in Mauritius. People speak Mauritian Creole, French, or English. The people accept Euros, Rupees, or American money as payment, and everywhere we went we saw mosques, Hindu temples, and churches. When the country feels like it and it’s convenient for them, they consider themselves to be part of Africa, but when it’s not convenient they see themselves as separate.

The more we drove, the more we saw the heavy Indian influence on the island. We’d pass these enormous brightly colored buildings with the Hindu Gods intricately carved up and down the columns. Our driver took us past this gigantic 100ft tall Hindu sculpture which was placed outside the Holy Lake. Every year for religious purposes, all of the Hindus in Mauritius pilgrimage to this lake for a festival. It’s almost as if this lake is the Ganges River of Mauritius. We also stopped at Black River Gorges National Park (which made me miss Ithaca!) and Alexandria Falls.

As we drove into the mountains the view became more and more spectacular. I peered out of the window and saw the bluest water I had ever seen in my entire life. It was like an island paradise (which is how most SAS kids treated it, but we’ll get back to that later). We finally made it to the Chamarel park which was beautiful and full or rolling hills was birds I had never seen before. Some brightly colored, some darker. We drove down dirt roads until finally we came to a halt. As we stepped out of the car we saw the Cascade Waterfall thundering into the gorge. It was created as a part of volcanic erosion and was a beautiful sight to see. Sam and I wanted to go hiking so we asked our driver and he nodded his head. We’re not sure what he thinks hiking is, but he ended up taking us to the seven colors of the Earth exhibit. This is basically a giant slab of dirt surrounded by fence that has, well, seven colors. This was a result of hydrolysis and ions and some cations being released… all of that good chemistry stuff I never understood. Just as soon as we thought this trip was a bust, Sam turned around only to see Giant Tortises. They truly live up to their name because I’m not quite sure how they manage to lug around that enormous shell every day.

As we went back to the car we yet again asked for hiking. This time we suggested backtracking to Black River. This was a bad idea. The driver continued to drive through the mountains for a good hour or so to the point where I was fighting with myself to not fall asleep. As I looked out the window I was able to see what makes Mauritius a third world country. Shacks lined the streets. They were made of metal, wood, tarp; basically any material that they could find. These houses were exactly like the townships in South Africa. Our cab turned down this dirt road onto a street lined with these shacks. Our driver asked this woman sitting in a chair some question in Creole and she pointed down the road. We continued to drive until we came to an open field that had a cement foundation on it. The driver turns to me and goes “No, it’s closed. No hiking here.” Again I’m not quite sure what he thinks hiking is because there is no way that at any point in time there was ever hiking there. Sam and I decided that we would succumb to the beautiful beaches instead, but he insisted on taking us elsewhere to try again. He dropped us off at a ranch and when the staff greeted us we greeted them by asking where the heck we were. We inquired what there was to do there to which the concierge responded “Well we teach you how to crush sugar cane the old fashioned way and we have horse carriage rides.” We tried really hard not to laugh and turned back to the cab and asked to go to the beach. He insisted that there were no beaches around our location (which is crap because the whole island is a beach!) and that we’d have to drive north. Little did we know that north meant all the way back to and past Port Louis, up to Grand Baie.

When the driver finally dropped us off at the beach, we told him that we had a place to stay for the night in order to get rid of him. He basically sucked all of our money away and the next thing I know, Sam and I are sitting on the beach with white sand and crystal clear water in front of us all the while staring into our empty money belts wondering how we’re going to get back to Port Louis. At one point a boat pulled up to shore and dropped off all of the Living Learning Coordinators from the ship. You think it’d be weird but after a while it becomes 2nd nature to see your teachers and bosses in port. Despite what it may seem like, we were actually in a fantastic situation. We had no money, but we were “stuck” on a beach in one of the most beautiful countries I have ever seen before. After watching the sunset and asking the Abercrombie manager about the bus systems, we ended up catching a bus back to the port for only 26 Rupees (which is less than $1!).

October 15th, 2010: Back to the water

Today was a very calm day. We woke up and headed back to Grand Baie to relax on the beach. We sat for a couple of hours just staring at the crystal clear water. After a while we headed back into the main part of the town. Street vendors lined the side of the road with coconuts and pineapple. Jules and I actually purchased our own coconuts which the shop owners proceeded to chop off the top right in front of us, stick a straw in it, and then hand it over to us. To be honest, I don’t even like coconut that much and the juice didn’t taste like anything. I really just wanted to drink coconut juice out of a coconut.

We headed back to Port Louis after lunch and wandered around the markets. All of the shops had something to do with dodo birds. It was insane. The people there were friendly but it was a little like Morocco. They didn’t seem as genuine although some were. Others you could tell just wanted to talk you up so you’d end up buying their products. The indoor market was actually two floors of continuous vendors. The bottom floor was fruit while the second floor was all clothing, jewelry and other things. I somehow ended up with a Mauritius soccer jersey which to be honest is probably one of the uglier ones I’ve seen but I couldn’t pass it up.

As we were heading back to port we ran into Adam (the assistant to the academic dean/registrar) who convinced us to go grab some coffee with him (again, the administration becomes your friend on SAS, not your superior). We wandered along the waterfront and met up with Lauran (my boss in the field office) and her mom, Sue (the Executive Dean) and sat and talked for a while. I can honestly say I never expected myself to be sitting down with the Deans and my bosses for coffee and hanging out with them in port, but I guess that’s what happens on Semester at Sea!

Since all of us still had some extra Rupees we needed to spend, we left the café for the little gift shop next door. There Adam and I found the most obnoxiously colored and touristy shirts with Mauritius and the dodo bird plastered all over it. So what do we do? Naturally we decided to buy them and wear them to the barbeque on the ship later that night. After, we raced back to the ship to wait in line to board and avoid receiving dock time. It was like chaos and it was embarrassing to be a part of SAS. Students came back to the ship completely drunk out of their minds. They would be getting out of taxis and not be able to stand up on their own. Some were chugging the last of their liquor in line while others limped up with injuries as a result of being intoxicated and stupid. It was sad to bear witness to how most SAS students treated Mauritius.

All in all Mauritius should be looked at as a model country for the rest of world. There is little to no conflict there and everyone is at peace with one another. It’s funny to think about because America was founded by people seeking religious freedom yet there is so much religious tension there today, yet in a place like Mauritius where they have very little and are considered a third world country, they don’t bring religion into the mix at all. Hindus, Muslims, and Christians all coexist and don’t think twice about it. Yet again I pose the question, why can’t America be like this? I mean, maybe if we cut everyone’s possessions in half then everyone would find peace within themselves and between each other.

Mauritius has so much to offer and unfortunately most students did not treat like that. In the diplomatic briefing the consulate told us that all Mauritius wanted was respect. Well, Semester at Sea did not respect them by any means and the night we got back on the ship was horrible because everyone was drunk and/or recovering. My friends and I sat with our friends in administration and just talked about how horrible we feel to be back on the ship where we’re associated with these other people whereas out in port we made a name for ourselves. In the end, though, it sucks to know that Mauritius’ last impression of me personally was a student of Semester at Sea and they don’t think too fondly of SAS at the moment. Kids trashed their hotel rooms and villas to the point where it looked like tornados went off. Broken furniture, lamps. Kids skinny dipping in pools and peeing off of the balconies. I even heard one story of kids fighting with bamboo in the lobby and throwing up in the pool as well as wrapping themselves in the Mauritian flag and jumping in the pool. It was an absolute disgrace to the American name and the Semester at Sea organization which is exactly why my friends and I decided to stay on the ship rather than be associated with everyone else. All in all, I had a great experience and I would love to go back and get to know the culture more. The island’s main export may be sugar cane but they have a heart that’s made of pure gold.

Desmond Tutu quote of the day: “Unless we work assiduously so that all of God’s children, our brothers and sisters, members of one human family, all will enjoy basic human rights, the right to fulfilled life, the right of movement, the freedom to be fully human, within a humanity measured by nothing less than the humanity of Jesus Christ Himself, then we are on the road inexorably to self-destruction, we are not far from global suicide – and yet it could be so different.” –Archbishop Desmond Tutu on society

October 3rd, 2010: South Africa knows how to hit back
We docked at 6am which meant that our alarms went off at 4:30am in order to keep the tradition of rolling into port alive. Tyler and I walked into Sam and Jules’s room singing “Happy Birthday” to wake them up. Still not sure why Tyler chose that song. As we walked outside we could see the lights on the horizon with the moon still in the sky. The closer we got, the lighter it became and progressively we witnessed one of the most beautiful sunrises I will probably ever see in my life. Slowly but surely Table Mountain appeared in the backdrop of the city and the world cup stadium was visible on the waterfront. We were finally in South Africa!

Before we left the ship we had a diplomatic briefing from two U.S consulates. The guy that addressed safety and security made everyone a little uneasy about getting off the ship. Yes Cape Town has one of the highest crime rates around, but contrary to what the consulate said, it cannot be compared to Afghanistan. He threw stories at us about people being mugged on hikes up table mountain, women being raped in the bathrooms, and people being slammed in the side of the head on the streets and then stripped of their possessions. Did it make us nervous? Yes. Should it have? No. I found that Cape Town is like any other foreign place we went. If you’re stupid, then yes you will in fact leave yourself vulnerable, however if you’re smart about the way you go about you’re traveling then you will be perfectly fine. His final advice was to stay in the V&A Waterfront area after dark. This is the most secure location in the city as security is at an all time high. We found this to be a true fact as security guards were positioned around every corner. If anyone touched you or even looked threatening there would be a safety officer on the scene within two seconds.

The port we docked in was… weird. Not in an odd sort of way but in a it was way too westernized kind of way. As soon as we walked out of the port gate we were in what is probably the most extensive mall I have ever seen in my entire life. Geez. It goes on forever. The wharf is lined with restaurants, street performers, souvenir stalls; definitely not what I expected from an African country. It was like America had shipped Boston or San Francisco over to Cape Town and to be honest, it was disappointing to feel so comfortable there. In the city there are huge skyscrapers. The LG building is the one that sticks out the most and there are KFC fast food restaurants on almost every block. Even the music was too westernized for me as all we heard was songs that had come off of America’s Top 40 list. It was disappointing because I thought I had finally escaped Lady Gaga and Lady Antebellum for four months. Apparently not!

Being the soccer fanatic that I am, I dragged my friends over to the Green Point Stadium which built and used for eight games during the World Cup this past June/July. Since we came in on a Sunday, most things were closed, including the stadium, but it was still awesome from the outside and we were able to find out tour dates.

After that failure we wandered back into town. On the way, we noticed a cricket practice that was going on at a club. We walked through the gates and up to the fences to watch the practice. It was people of all ages. Young children, teenagers, even some adults. Now I don’t know the rules of cricket by any means, but it was still nice to sit there and watch a culture interact with each other. Everyone would high five and laugh with each other. There was no tension or aggression from the coaches; only positives. It’s the simple things in life that keep people happy and the cricket seemed almost like a family affair. Everyone took interest in it and everyone enjoyed it.

We continued to walk into the city. The main difference was that they drive on the other side of the road. I’d pass all of these taxis that I thought were empty, kind of look in, and be freaked out when I make eye contact with a man sitting on what we call the passenger side, but is their driver’s side. Crossing the street definitely took some getting used to as well. Mom & Dad: I now know why you forced us to learn to look both ways before crossing the street…. For one way streets in countries like South Africa. Our rule became to look the uncomfortable way because several times we would look to the left for oncoming traffic that would actually be coming from the right. Thank goodness for the painted arrows in the middle of the streets.

Two hotel bellhops suggested this place for us to have lunch at that was situated right by the Green Square market where bartering was the norm; yes! The restaurant seemed a bit nicer but the exchange rate is so well that a chicken fillet with a small side of potatoes and mineral water only cost around $10. The tiramisu for dessert was the best I’ve ever had. There was a cherry sauce drizzled on top that added to the taste. After that we headed over to the market. Everyone was friendly and it was the same idea as Marrakech in Morocco, but a completely different feeling. Yes, the people would say “have a look, please” and “take your time” as well as the all time favorite, “America!? I love Obama!” The difference was that they weren’t overbearing with it. If you said no thank you, they would reply “no problem brother, have a nice day.” They did not try to grab at you or hunt you down and find every way to coax you to look at their products. It was easy to strike up conversations with these people and form relationships. The man I bartered with for my soccer jersey was very nice and the more we talked, the more his price went down. The thing that struck me most is how much people idolize America. It’s disgusting. They’d ask our impression of Cape Town and Africa to which I’d respond “I love it. I want to move here,” and they’d stare blankly back at me. The man with the jerseys was very straightforward and posed the question as to why we would ever want to give up a place like America for a place like Cape Town. He went on to explain that nearly 90% of the vendors were actually people that traveled all the way from Zimbabwe in order to sell their crafts in a better economy. We wondered where all of the incredible amounts of beaded jewelry came from and Zimbabwe was our answer. Literally almost every piece of jewelry you picked up would have beads on it one way or the other.

After several hours in the market place it was time to head back to the ship for the Township Homestay trip through Semester at Sea. I was very much looking forward to this trip because I felt as though it would open my eyes to more than the city life. I thought this would help me scratch the surface and better understand the issues that South Africa faces as well as get to hear apartheid experiences. Sadly, none of this happened. The trip was through a tour operator called 2Way Travel. The guy in charge was named Mike and he was very informative about his experiences in the Townships. He explained that ew shouldn’t be surprised if people refer to us as “sir” or “master.” That was a shock, yet goes to show the remains of apartheid still affecting everyday life. His assistant, Heather, drove with us to the Gugugletu Township about five minutes outside of the city. The quick difference between rich and poor was painstakingly obvious as we continued our drive. We were told that we would be split up into a house with a “Mama” which is what we were told to call them. As we arrived at Mama Knocks house, who is the township coordinator, a group of kids were waiting for us. During the time we waited for our Mamas to pick us up, we were all outside playing with them. They sang pretty violent songs about killing and burning, which showed the differences in how we were brought up. We were late informed by Mike that WWE wrestling is always on the only free channel that people get in the townships so it’s always what the kids are exposed to. At one point, one of the little children fell asleep while I was giving him a piggy back ride. All of them were obsessed with being tickled, which sounds weird, but they’re not used to affection like that. As soon as I’d raise my hands they would run away from me screaming with smiles on their faces.

Jamal and I were the last people to be picked up by our Mamas. As we waited, I started talking to Heather about the area and about my future in a place like this. I found out that she used to be a certified Occupational Therapist until a bone disease took over and forced her to change jobs. She now runs a Children’s Home for abandoned kids almost single handedly while working for 2Way Travel on the side. I told her how I was double majoring in PT and AT and that after 7 years I’d come out with my doctorate in PT, but I wasn’t sure how useful that’d be for the things I wished to accomplish with my life. She informed me that in Cape Town as well as the South Africa area it’s extremely rare to have a doctorate, in fact she was certified with her masters and that put her right on the top. I was told of the numerous opportunities for going into the township areas to do rehab work. By the end, she had me thinking about transferring to the University of Sports Medicine in Cape Town, but I figured I’d start with her e-mail first and seeing if I can manage to swing some clinical hours abroad. I’m still crossing my fingers for that one.

The Mama that finally came to pick us up an hour later was named Mama Beauty. For whatever reason she was in a rush to get us back to her house so after few goodbyes we were walking down the street to a little gated house. This township was one of the best in the Cape Town area. The houses weren’t made of tin or tarps. They were by no means shacks. Every house was made of cement and had running water and electricity. The first room we walked into was the living room with two couches centered around the television. This led into a long, narrow kitchen with bedrooms and a bathroom stemming from that. Mamma Beauty had us sit on the couches and she went into the kitchen to cook dinner. We were silent because there was nothing to do and no one to talk to. We didn’t want our host to feel like she couldn’t talk to us so we offered to help with dinner. She declined. We continued to sit on the couch and one of her sons joined us. I don’t remember his name, but what I do remember is that he is studying to be a doctor out of the University of Cape Town. He’s basically living in Cuba to do his medical hours and what surprised me the most was how passionate about the country he was. He went into about how much he didn’t like living in Cape Town, but he had to force himself to like it since he was born there. When asked about apartheid he said it didn’t affect him at all even as a child. He thought nothing of it which is kind of sad to me that he grew up thinking that treating people separately like that was acceptable. During all of this we still heard nothing from Mama Beauty. We couldn’t tell if she felt as though she couldn’t talk to us because of our sense of false superiority that everyone seemed to think we came with or what. Either way it was very uncomfortable. Finally she brought out dinner, but declined to eat with us. Our plate was full of chicken, spinach, carrots, and some corn concoction with onions (yes mom, I was polite enough to force the onions down my throat).

The part that I failed to mention was that Jamal decided to not spend the night, except he hadn’t arranged this ahead of time. Now not only is it extremely rude to sign up for a homestay and then decide you don’t want to stay, it also incredibly rude to not plan it in advance and inconvenience everyone else. His excuse was that he had to leave at 4am for a safari that next day which is weird because when we got back to the ship at 10am he was getting into a taxi. Due to his lack of planning, not only was I spending the night alone, but the entire evening was consumed with trying to get him out of the townships safely and back to the ship. Both Mama Knocks and Mama Beauty even took offense to the fact that he was leaving so I felt as my reputation had been dragged down with him. Mama Beauty would be throwing all of these numbers out for Jamal to call, her son was offering advice, and even Mama Knocks came down to make sure he got off alright. It ended in Mama’s son personally taking Jamal to get a cab back to the ship. After he had finally left, I talked to Mama Beauty for about ten minutes before she took a shower and went to bed. She had offered no opinion on apartheid other than “it was bad and separated.” Not exactly what I was looking for…

The rest of the night I sat there in silence watching television with Mama Beauty’s two sons until I went to sleep. I felt horrible because Mama Beauty gave up her king size bed for what turned out to be one guest. If I had known that Jamal wasn’t staying the night, then I would have pushed to stay on the couch or something. It wasn’t right. I felt trapped and alone in the room. It was as if I was stuck in there with guards at the door. There was no way I felt comfortable enough to get up and walk out of the room without being judged as the white supremacist, which I whole heartedly hate. That’s how my cat must have felt when we suddenly took her from living outside to living in my room; lost, confused. I remember for the first couple of days she hid out of sight until she grasped her bearings. That’s exactly how I was feeling here.

Monday October 4th, 2010: Cape Town at my fingertips

The next morning I woke up and stayed in the room for a bit as the feeling of isolation and separation continued. I finally mustered enough courage to open the door and walk out into the kitchen. As I did, Mama Beauty was still lying in bed but as soon as she heard my footsteps she perked right up and was making my breakfast. For those of you who know me, you know I hate to be waited on. I hate to be an inconvenience. Well that’s what it felt the entire time. Just as I sat there while she made dinner the previous night, I sat there as she made me breakfast. It was basically a granola bar that is dunked in warm water and made into this oatmeal type substance. You then add milk and sugar as you please. It was pretty good at first, but then the taste stayed the same and started to get a little bit old. Good thing she left me with an entire bowl of sugar because I made that oatmeal taste like brown sugar the best I could.

After breakfast it seemed like time was dragging on and she finally entered the family to sit and watch her morning soap operas in silence. FINALLY she looked at me and started talking. She asked about my school work and I in turn asked her about Cape Town. She was yet another person that said she had to like Cape Town because it’s all she has known. She expressed her want to move to America for opportunity. When I asked what her favorite part about South Africa is, she said she didn’t have one. She responded “I’m too old. All I do all day is go to church and sleep. That is what I like doing so that is what I do.” After a few more awkward minutes of conversation, I handed her my thank you note on the back of a Niagara Falls postcard and headed back to Mama Knocks house.

I met up with the rest of the group and heard everyone’s amazing experiences. Many people had the opportunity to explore the township the night before and get to know their families. I’m not going to lie, it sucked hearing about all of this since mine was such a bust, but I was still happy to hear that everyone else had a good time. At Mama Knocks’ house she was selling her handmade jewelry which is her only source of income so of course many people chipped in to buy some. All in all, although my personal experience sucked, it was a great trip planned by SAS. Very eye opening. The best part is that a huge chunk of money we pay for the trip goes directly to the Mamas so that they’re able to afford repaired ceilings, washing machines, etc.

As we arrived back to the ship we saw Jamal getting in a cab to go somewhere. Lame. We ran into Becca who is in charge of the field office and is also one of my awesome bosses. I felt bad because she felt terrible about what happened on the trip and told me she was going to make it up to me personally. Little did I know that she ended up crediting the amount of the trip to my shipboard account and writing Jamal up since it’s against ISE policy to sign off of a homestay. What a lady.

I still had five more days in South Africa so I was determined to not let the homestay ruin my trip. We grabbed a quick lunch on the ship and then Sam, Tyler, Johnny, and Dhara all headed out to hike Table Mountain. We decided to walk there from the port. This took two hours and the walk actually turned into sidewalks that rivaled San Francisco as far as steepness goes. This provided for some amazing views of the city and we weren’t even at the base of the mountain yet! Finally we made it to the base, met up with some other SASers and started the hike. It wasn’t very steep or rigorous; in fact, we made it more difficult for ourselves at times just because we could. The view as we gradually went up was spectacular along every step of the way. There was a path the entire way up so that wasn’t an issue at all. At one point we passed Tommy, Leah, Liz, and Jeremy which, believe it or not, has become completely normal to pass my bosses and staff members around port. After about an hour and forty five minutes we reached the summit as the sun was setting over the ocean. It was beautiful. As we walked around the top, Cape Town came into view. We could see all the way out to Robben Island as well as all the way down the Cape Peninsula. The view was endless. It was absolutely breathtaking and no pictures that were taken do it justice. I could’ve spent all night up there. It was truly like holding all of Cape Town in my hands.

After some more exploring and relaxing we took the cable car back down as night was falling quickly. From there we walked the two hours back to port as the lights in the city came on below us. Yet another breathtaking view. We finally made it back to the ship, headed into port for some dinner and wifi, then called it a night.

October 5th, 2010: Let death begin

This morning I woke up feeling like crap. My throat had closed, making it difficult to breath and it felt like it was on fire. Despite all of this, there was no way I was going to miss my soccer stadium tour so I forced myself out of bed and headed up to breakfast.

Tyler, Johnny, Sam, and I took the fifteen minute walk from the wharf to the stadium and arrived a little bit early. We sat on benches around the outside of the massive structure. It was crazy to try to envision thousands of people flocking to the stadium for a game just a couple of months ago. The backdrop to the stadium was the ocean one way, and then Table Mountain and Lion’s Head the other way. It was very much a picturesque place.

Once inside, they took us to their visitor’s center. The most interesting thing there was Desmond Tutu’s quote and pictures. Then again, everything about that man is interesting. The way he laughs, his thought process; just everything. It was also crazy to walk around Cape Town and see how his own country views him. He’s up on a pretty high pedestal there. Finally the tour began. We walked in the entrance gate and into the stadium on the 2nd level. It was massive and the grass was perfectly green. It was picture perfect. You could still feel the energy and emotion from June and July during the games. Not to be “that guy” or anything, but I’m fairly certain I got the chills.

The guide explained to us the logistics of Green Point Stadium. It was actually built specially for the World Cup. During the games the stadium held 68,000 people and since then they had removed 13,000 seats from the upper level to accommodate plans for a restaurant, so capacity is now at 55,000… still huge! There were special seats marked in red for the medical team (maybe I’ll wind up in one of those some day) and it was very handicapped accessible. As we continued walking around we went into the photo gallery which included pictures from construction on up until the inaugural match at the stadium with two local teams. It was so beautiful.

We continued up the stairs to the “VIP Lobby” area. Currently it stands as a long empty room, but during the games, players and coaches would have pre and post game meals there while discussing tactics and strategies. Then came the VIP seating area. We walked through another lobby with private bars and table, down the red carpet and out into the VIP seating that had plush seats located at mid field.

Finally the tour guide took us to the ground level. There we saw the parking garage where team buses and coaches would pull up. Teams such as the Netherlands and Robben and England and Rooney had walked through those doors. It was crazy trying to envision that. The next stop was the holding cells for rowdy fans. If someone became too drunk or too rambunctious, that’s where they would be held until the end of the match. According to the guide, there were only three incidents during all eight world cup games played there. I asked him if he remembered any and he said there was definitely one during the England v.s Algeria game and I laughed to myself. You would, England.

Next was the press conference room set up with the interview table, backdrop, and all. After taking the cheesy “we won the game” pictures at the podium, we moved onto the locker rooms. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but they looked like any other locker room in any other stadium. Nothing out of the ordinary for the world cup. There were rehab tables, showers, bathrooms, everything. I sat in one of the lockers and tried to picture all of the great players that had once been present in that room. Wayne Rooney, Steven Gerrard, Robben, Van Persie… holy cow.

After exiting the locker room it was time to take the walk of glory out of the tunnel and onto the field. Even with an empty stadium, no nets, no player benches, and a field you can’t walk on, there’s still a lot of emotion that builds up when you walk out of that tunnel. Even the people that weren’t exactly soccer fans felt the emotion. I got to touch the grass which kept in pristine condition. I wish we were able to play on it, but to just be at field level was pretty incredible.

That was the end of the tour and I headed back to the ship to take a little nap since my throat was becoming increasingly painful. After laying in bed for an hour I figured that I wasn’t going to let myself sit on the ship for five days while in South Africa so I forced myself up and walked around the wharf with Sam.

There wasn’t much to do except sit and enjoy. We watched boats of all sizes come into and out of the harbor while enjoying the street performers’ music. There was the most amazing soft serve ice cream I have ever had as well. Finally after a couple of hours we tossed around the idea of climbing Lion’s Head. Normally I would not recommend climbing a mountain when you’re having trouble swallowing and your fever is peaking, but in this case I didn’t want to be the kid to hold the group back and I would only be here for so long. We headed back to the MV Explorer, met up with Tyler and Sarah and then headed on up to the mountain via taxi this time.

As we started our hike, the sun began to set. We followed the dirt path that spiraled around the base of the mountain for several levels until finally we hit solid rock. At one point we were confused as to where the path went. It seemed to just vanish. That’s when we realized the so called hike had actually turned into a climb. We basically needed to formulate our own path to scale the rock walls and climb through a maze of boulders. It was awesome. Every time we turned around the sun was setting a little bit more over the city. As we continued to climb upward the trail disappeared even more and it was a free for all to the summit. Take the path you think you can handle, basically. We made it to the top just as the sun was setting over the ocean and Camps Bay. It was a view I’ll never forget. The entire way up we had witnessed paragliders flying off into the sunset. There something so peaceful and calming about it that I had forgotten about how horrible I was feeling.

We met three local South Africans and a dog named Simba Chips on the top. We told them of our travels as they told us of theirs. Two of the three of them came to Cape Town as backpackers and just never left because they enjoyed it so much. When asked what the locals like to do they responded “Get pissed over there, get pissed over there, and again over there,” while pointing in three separate directions. Not exactly what you think of when you think Africa, but that’s truly the vibe you get when you step into Cape Town. It’s so much like the western world that it has a major party scene that’s impossible to ignore.

We headed back down as dark was approaching and all around us the lights of the city were turning on before our eyes. It was yet another beautiful sight. The hike down was a bit of a challenge in the dark, but still very manageable. At the bottom we parted ways as my mind was completely out of it from being sick. It was hard to breath and my fever was at an all time high. Needless to say I went to bed for the rest of the night.

October 6th, 2010: Robben Island

The ferry for Robben Island broke before we arrived in port so many of the SAS trips were cancelled. The company hired two private ferries so tours were limited but somehow Sam and I managed to get tickets to the 9am tour. The major downside to this was that since the faster ferry was broken, it now took an hour and fifteen minutes one way to and from the island, so it took up almost all of our day.

As we approached the island, penguins and birds lined the breakwall. We were surrounded by little school children that kept singing these crazy songs. This made me feel terrible for any person that had ever been around one of my school field trips back in middle school. It was cute the first time but the next twenty five times were downright annoying.

Everyone piled on buses and began the tour. When I thought of Robben Island previously, all I thought about was apartheid. That’s a major part of it, but there’s so much more. During the leper period, they isolated the lepers on the island and we passed several leper graveyards. It was chilling to hear about as we were told that they were buried sometimes two or three bodies deep one on top of the other. Robben Island also served as a key point in World War II. Apparently if the Germans had conquered the island they would have had a clear pass to the rest of the world due to the strategic position. Because of this, there are two of the largest guns on the Earth located here that are currently being restored. It was said that while these guns were fired, all windows had to be open since glass would shatter and everyone needed to cover their ears on the island.

As far as apartheid on the island goes, there used to be black security guards there until the blacks were the people shipped to the island. This is when it turned to white guards because they were afraid of the guards befriending the prisoners. Many people were shoeless as they came to the island. They were all forced to work in the quarry harvesting stone and were given little to no medical treatment. Each prisoner was a on a specific diet which at one point was so strict that they weren’t allowed bread until the doctor prescribed it to them. They were given one pair of clothes and a sleeping mat which was basically two layers of thick blankets.

My guide was in the maximum security prison on the Island for five and a half years. He had been charged with sabotage. He said he never had a bad experience with the guards. In fact, many of them came to the island illiterate and uneducated but in the end, they ended up leaving being able to read and write thanks to the help of the prisoners. Many of the political detainees earned degrees while at the prison thanks to donations from organizations such as the Red Cross and Amnesty International. People would study while in the quarry all day and help each other learn. It’s almost as if this prison backfired because as the white government tried to suppress these political prisoners, they actually became more educated and well rounded in the end.

Our guide took us by Nelson Mandela’s cell in which he lived for twenty seven years. It was very tiny with the only light source being a window to the courtyard. There was a tiny wooden table, no chairs or anything, a sleeping mat, and a garbage can to do his business in. How he managed to keep his strong sense of hope and determination while in those conditions for as long as he was, I will never know. I ended up buying his autobiography so I’m very much looking forward to reading that.

That night Sam and I ended up catching dinner on Long Street and calling it a night pretty early since yet again I was still not feeling better.

October 7th, 2010: Sick, much?

Today was a very low key day as my cold moved to my head and my mind was spacing out. I wandered around the wharf for a while watching the waves crash on the beach during the mini storm we were receiving. Other than that a bunch of us found wifi later that night and that’s pretty much all that happened. Nothing really big. Just more wandering and more observing as well as attempting to feel better.

October 8th, 2010: So long, Cape Town

Today was still low key. I was unable to go to operation hunger and work with the malnourished children because I was so sick and if I had went and spread my germs to kids with low immune systems, well that wouldn’t be good so that was a major bummer. But due to me missing out on all of these things such as the townships, operation hunger, and a safari I have a good excuse to go back now! I really enjoyed South Africa, but I didn’t love it. I like being out of my element more than I was here, but it was still quite the experience to see the racial divide go hand in hand with the poverty divide.

We went back to the market, said hey to our friend that sold me the jersey, and spent the rest of our Rand on some more keepsakes and food. After that it was back on the ship and time for departure.

Currently we’re about 1 day outside of Mauritius and I’m on day eight of being sick! Yes! Also, I bought Desmond Tutu’s quote book so here’s his quote of the day:

“A leader is there for the sake of the Led” – Archbishop Desmond Tutu

These are all from Ghana. My computer is dying so I have to post them quickly. I'll try to put more up as I have time in port! Thanks :)

GHANA

September 22nd, 2010: Is Facebook Fred Real?
Jules, Sam, Tyler and I kept the tradition of waking up early to watch us dock in each port so we all headed up to the bow of the ship at 6:45 am, just in time to see the pilot boat come out and meet us as well as the tugboats pulling up along side of us. As I opened the door to the outside deck the first thing I heard was Jules say “Look, a canoe!” Mind you we were still pretty far out from shore but sure enough there was a canoe with a Ghanaian man just chilling there with his fishing net. As our eyes surveyed the horizon we realized we were in fact passing several fishing canoes casting out fishing lines into the water which is something I’m definitely not used to seeing but it set the tone for the rest of my experience because Ghana is nothing I’m used to seeing. Right away we saw how welcoming and excited the local people were to have a ship load of mostly whites to dock in their country. Even the tugboat captain (who happened to be a woman… just pointing that out because woman have some of the highest positions in the government, i.e supreme court justice and speaker of the house, and are making significant progress in society) pulled out her camera and started snapping pictures of us as we waved back to her. It was ironic because the two large barges in the harbor already docked from Hong Kong and Singapore which are two of our later stops! The harbor itself is best described as a parking garage for extremely large ships. The break wall is narrow and on top of that there was a ship docked horizontally along the pier and one anchored vertically almost directly across from the other ship. It looked like an impossible turn but yet again Captain Kristanovich pulls off the inevitable and somehow manages to softly glide us into the pier without any minor bumps or scrapes.

After one last quick meal on the ship and saying our farewells to friends and worried bosses we met in Tymitz Square on the ship and headed for the gangway. I mentioned in my last post that I was skeptic about the water project and how they just jumped onto our trip without telling us therefore assuming we’d plan everything for them. Well first impressions are key, right? Too bad we had to wait for them 20 minutes outside of the ship until they felt like they were ready to come. But that’s alright, because it’s still all about the village.

It was more humid than hot and very cloudy as this is the end of the rainy season in Ghana. We walked along the port lugging our bags full of school supplies and as we turned the first corner a group of artisans had set up shop selling paintings, drums, cloth, jewelry… just about everything you think of when you think Africa. They were all very friendly and at first everyone was a bit defensive with Morocco still resonating in our minds as those people were just looking to make the quick buck. Here in Ghana, it was different. If you say “no thank you” they smile and say “no problem, welcome to Ghana!” A completely different attitude. We also quickly learned that it was stupid to say you’re not from America because these people LOVE Americans, not to mention their crazy obsession with Obama, but we’ll talk about that later. After making it to the port gate we were forced to wait in line for a good twenty minutes because the port authority didn’t quite understand that everyone wanted a taxi and wasn’t going to get on the SAS bus.

As everyone in the shipboard community started to formulate plans would Ghana, one would consistently be asked about what they had in store for the next port. Whenever my friends and I responded with “Fred from facebook is taking us on a tour seven hours away,” they would either gives us looks of concern of looks that blatantly said “how stupid can you get?” Talk about us all you want, SAS because sure enough when we finally exited the point there was the man himself from facebook, Fred Benneh, waiting with a 15 passenger van. Now I wouldn’t condone just trusting people from the internet, obviously. We did in fact do some research to make sure he was legit.

He greeted us with hugs and handshakes as we made our way to the van. Slowly but surely we climbed into our seats and sure enough it was incredibly tight and there wasn’t room for everyone. No big deal, we switched vans while we stopped at the ATM since no one had any Cedis since it’s a closed currency. If you ever travel to Ghana, make sure your ATM card is a Visa. A bunch of people had trouble taking out money because they had Mastercard which is only accepted at a different and not as numerous bank. After we all piled into the second van it was still a tight fit. It was about 17 people in a 12 person van, so needless to say your butt space was limited and we all sat with our backpacks on our laps for the entire trip. We all became best friends pretty quickly.

All over Ghana there are checkpoints along the road. If you have a license plate with a yellow background it means that you have a commercial vehicle and you have more of a chance being stopped at these checkpoints due to all of the laws such as importing and exporting that would apply to you. If you have a plate with a white background it means your vehicle is private and essentially all laws fly out the window. Our van had a yellow plate on so Fred told us we were going to change them quickly. We drove up to this random version of a Ghanaian garage, took a sticker off of the window, changed our plates from yellow to white, and were back on our way with no questions asked. It was that simple. Despite our plate changes we still got stopped and questioned at many checkpoints but it appeared as though our awesome driver paid the officers off on some occasions. What a guy.

As we continued on our drive, Fred gave us the 411 on Ghana and their culture. He explained that it’s offensive to use your left hand for anything except for writing. This is because there are really no toilets in Ghanaian culture. They’re called squat holes. What goes hand in hand with toilets? That would be toilet papers. So if they have no toilets then they have no paper so what’s used? That’d be the left hand! People will literally refuse anything you offer them with your left hand. It was especially difficult for me since I’m left handed so many times I had to put my hand in my pocket to make sure I always used my right. We also found out that it’s frowned upon, but legal to be a lesbian, however it’s illegal to be gay. Also, people go to the bathroom anywhere outside. We passed several people simply peeing on the side of the road. He also warned us that everyone would want our phone numbers and e-mail addresses. We didn’t realize how true this was. Everywhere we stopped wanted our contact information!

The more we drove, the more it seemed like we were distancing ourselves from civilization. Villages became more sporadic and the road kept changing from dirt to pavement and then back again. The entire time the driver would be cruising at 60kph and then have to slow down because there were so many pot holes in road. It was definitely a bumpy ride in the back seat, but speeding down a dirt road in the middle of a forest was an experience that will last me a lifetime. Driving in Ghana isn’t as much of an art form as it is in Morocco. Here, people just use their horns to let the other car know that they’re going to pass and the flashing of lights for passing as well. I came to the conclusion that there’s a hidden language within the car horns, though. Two quick beeps means “hello” or if it comes from a taxi it means “please get in my car.” Several short consistent honks that have a sort of rhythm to them mean “get the heck out of my way, I’m coming through.” This was mostly used when passing through villages and people would be walking with crops and water on their head since EVERYTHING is carried on heads in Ghana. It’s incredible. We all tried and failed. Last but not least there’s the “I’m going to pass you” honk which was used most frequently. This had somewhat of a frantic tone to it, or at least it always provoked a nervous feeling in all of us as it was basically saying “please slow down a little bit so the car coming at us in the other lane doesn’t end up demolishing us.”

The water project had an Islamic kid in it so we had to stop and find him a place to pray. It’s amazing how friendly Ghanaian people are because Fred stopped in this village and told Ahmet that he could find a house to use. Sure enough, this random family allowed him to use their house to pray. Fred went above and beyond for Ahmet. He even arranged for him to stay with a muslim family Senase for three days. While we waited this little boy dressed only in a red shirt ran outside. He immediately saw the group of us, pointed, and started screaming and balling his eyes out as he ran back inside. This child performed this cycle about five more times before he gained enough courage to actually say hi to us. Sam and I talked to some girls wearing their school uniforms and the entire time all they did was laugh. I asked them if we looked funny and they just smiled and started laughing harder. As Ahmet finished his prayer a couple of us decided to relieve our bladders in the true Ghanaian manner…. Anywhere we pleased. As I went, some chickens decided to walk by, which caught me off guard. Johnny, however later revealed that as he went two kids came up and started waving at him directly in front of him and wouldn’t go away until he waved back. After some rearranging in order to fit everyone and everything back in the van, we were on our way. Soon after we received a phone call saying the village dancers and drummers that were supposed to greet us got tired and went to bed. Basically we had a village of 4,000 people waiting for us and we ruined our own party. It was rescheduled for the next night… or so we thought!

The longer we drove, the more sporadic the villages became. There are no real speed limits in Ghana so we picked up speed as we headed through the forest. As we started going down a fairly steep hill, the people in the front let out a few gasps and screams. Keep in mind I’m in the back seat so I have no idea what’s going on. At the bottom of the hill our van made some unidentified noises and sure enough came to a halt. Apparently a dog had been sitting in the middle of the road and as we slammed on our breaks something had malfunctioned and for whatever reason, the van was not starting. We all piled out, the driver was able to restart it and we piled back in again. Here’s the catch: after the driver had the vehicle running he thought it’d be a good idea to shut it off again so as he tries to get the engine going after we all strategically packed ourselves into the seats, the motor decides not to work. On our left was a lush forest full of banana trees and on our right was a tiny dirt path up to a little church with some homes surrounding it.

We waited for about fifteen minutes before we decided to be adventurous and head over to the church. Heidi, Grant, and I approached the people as they approached us. There we stood; three white people in a neat line across from five African people in a straight line. “Someone’s got to make the first move,” whispered Heidi. Being the sometimes serious, sometimes sarcastic person that I am, I took a big step forward and as literal as that movement was, it sparked the introductions. We had broken down in front of a church which was run by Pastor Jacob. Two families lived on the property and there were cats, ducks, and chickens roaming around as they pleased. At one point the same dog that caused our breakdown wandered around the church. We asked Pastor Jacob if he knew the dog. Sure enough he actually owned the dog. Here’s the real punch line, though. Its name is Peace. How ironic that a dog named Peace sparks relationships that physically lasted only a couple of hours but will mentally last a lifetime.

As we watched Fred hop in a cab and catch a ride back to the closest village to get an electrician, we decided to set up camp for a bit. Pastor Jacob and his family showed us around the houses which were lined on the outside with clothes drying and surrounded by brush and leaves. He took us to the river where they bathed every morning. Looking back on it, those people were probably dirtier after their daily baths than before. There was a young teenager named Charity who looked after her siblings. She explained that she had to go to school and then come home to perform motherly duties which was sad to hear. I can’t imagine how that must affect her education, so this was my first experience with “pointless” education in Ghana.

Chris Hatch had the brilliant idea to break out some of the donations we had brought for Senase. These people are just as deserving as the next, so why not? He brought out a huge pack of Dums Dums and passed them out to the ten little kids. It was absolutely hilarious to watch. Charity had informed us that these children had never had lollipops before, which would explain some of them sucking on it with the wrappers on or even licking the straw end and holding the candy. All of us quickly learned that we need to take plastic wrappers off of things before we hand them out.

Everyone was overly friendly. We watched them make the traditional village dish of Fufu which we had the pleasure of trying at a later point during the trip. The woman sat on a stump turning over the paste with her hands in a tiny wood bowl while the man pounded the paste with a giant stick. There was a very specific rhythm to this yet it still amazes me that her hand did not get crushed. The kids would surround us and the mothers would basically pawn their children and babies off on us, except we wanted to spend time with them anyways so it worked out well. At one point a child wanted to be lifted up so I placed him on my shoulders and he was the happiest kid. I’m not sure if he had ever been off the ground at that height. I decided to go back to the van and pump up one of the soccer balls I had brought along to leave in the villages. Before I had even made it to the end of the dirt road, at least three kids were walking towards me… actually more like running with huge smiles on their faces. As soon as I threw the ball in the air five more kids joined in and before we knew it, it was a community soccer match. This lasted quite some time before Fred returned and the van was fixed. We took some last minute photos and exchanged last minute gifts. Sam gave Charity a bracelet we had made on throughout the journey so far. As she tied it on her, Charity whispered “God Bless” and began to cry. She gave us cocoa in return. The inside his seeds covered in this gooey white substance. The directions as far as eating goes as follows: Attempt several times to get the seed out of the plant since it’s so slimy, once you actually get it out, suck on the seed until all the sweet white covering is gone, and chuck the seed as far as you can into the forest so it grows another tree. Everyone from the area followed us out to our vehicle and before I was about to get in the car I felt a little tap on the back of my legs. I turned around to see a tiny little boy who couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old who was holding out his arms as if to say “hug me.” Needless to say I knelt down and he embraced my arms. It’s crazy to look back and envision those neat lines that were divided by race as we entered the property and now sit there hugging one of the kids. It was an unexpected stop but a very moving one nonetheless.

We drove straight to Senase through more forests and checkpoints. At one point we turned our heads around to see the most spectacular lightning show I have ever seen before. It was the end of the rainy season while we were there so we experienced many clouds and little sunshine. The bolts of lightning appeared to come in packs of two or three as the whole sky lit up. At one point it was so bright that it seemed like someone was taking pictures in the van with the flash on. The storm looked so fierce yet so peaceful at the same time.

Our last stop on the way to village was to pick up some alcohol. Not for drinking, but rather for the Chief. Whenever you enter the presence of the Chief in any village in Ghana it is customary to present schnapps. Finally we turned down a little dirt road which proved to be the theme of our trip, and were finally in Senase. We continued to drive through a maize of dark houses and what seemed to be run down shacks (which were actually the general store, barber shop, etc.). We pulled up to Fred’s house which was a one story house with a front porch and a shack for the squat hole. We were greeted by both his immediate and extended families and we got to know one another as they cooked dinner for us over the fire. His brother Francis wants to be a doctor while his other brother Martin would like to be a teacher.

Dinner was rice with a fish paste on top. It looked disgusting, but we learned in Ghana that you have to look past the appearance. The paste had what seemed like herring and okra leaves. That’s the one thing I love about Ghana… they use what’s around them. They don’t go to the shop to buy some specific spice. Instead, almost every dish we ate had some sort of leaves or plant in them. For beverages we had plastic bags of water… almost like Ziploc. You bite off the corner in order to open it and just drink the water like that. I think we decided to call them “sacklets of water” instead of bags. To wash your hands for dinner they pass around a bowl with soapy water and then one without soapy water. When using the soapy water, you wash both hands, but when using the clean water ONLY use your right hand. This is because left hands in Ghana serve as toilet paper so naturally, you only use your right hand. Eating in Ghana is a blast. You use your hands, so everything your parents taught you about manners at the table goes out the window as you just dig in. What makes it even better is that everyone eats from one communal dish so you get to know your neighbor pretty fast! One of the most memorable parts of the night was when Francis walked into the brush and walks out with a turtle which we proceeded to watch crawl around the table for a solid half hour. It amazed us that we were so close to so many different animals. There were even baby kittens that were still being fed by the mother, which in turn made me miss my baby kitten at home. Don’t worry, mom & dad, I refrained from sneaking one into my backpack.

After dinner we headed to our sleeping quarters. The “house” I was in was the farthest from Fred’s house. It seemed like we had to walk through practically another forest and to the other part of the village, but it was an experience that no one else on the trip had. I use quotations for the word house not to be rude but simply because it was an empty room with four sleeping mats on the ground for us. The door was padlocked so we weren’t able to lock it from the inside. While we sat outside for a little bit, we watched another rain storm roll in over the village. There’s something about an African thunderstorm that awes me. I can’t quite tell what it is though, but I’m sure it has to do with my physical surroundings. Before we went to bed we noticed a three inch beetle crawling on the wall near Chris Hatch’s belongings. Hatch just so happens to dislike bugs like that and refuses to touch it. After a couple minutes of watching this hilarious scenario play out, Sam and I coaxed it out of the door.

That night the rain storm hit and since our door was made of plywood and unable to be locked, it naturally blew open. Well someone living next door didn’t like that our door was open so he came in around 2am, said some things that I think meant “keep the door closed” and walked away. To be honest, all I remember is smiling at him and laying back down, but he left a fold-up chair inside to keep the door shut… we were very lucky with how safe we felt, otherwise we would have gotten no sleep.

All in all it was a very long, very emotional, and already a very eye opening day.

September 23rd, 2010: Chickens, Lizards, and Floods

We woke up to the sound of roosters cocka-doodle-doing at the top of their lungs and little kids crying because they don’t want to take a bath. Once the people around us realized that those foreign white people were awake, we had several people stop outside the crack of our door and peer in to see what we were all about. When we stepped outside into the cloudy and cool climate, someone asked if we wanted to take a shower, but we weren’t exactly sure what that entailed so we politely declined.

Ghanaian time is like real time, but always delayed by about 45 minutes or so. It was frustrating at first, but by the end we learned to embrace it and the events that came along with it. We met up with Fred and he took us on a short walk around the village which looked very different during the day. There were chickens and donkeys just roaming from property to property and lizards all over the place. He took us past his old house and was excited to show us a tree that he had planted when he was just a child. Today it has proudly grown tall and full, overlooking his old property.

As we neared towards the heart of the village, more and more people would drop what they were doing to say hello. At one point we passed a group of kids that were down the street on the other side of the house horizontal to us. As we walked parallel to the street they were on, we saw them in between the houses at the next intersection, and then the next, and then the next again for about five houses. We popped out of the confusion and chorus of hello’s onto the main street that was bustling with little children dressed in many different school uniforms and women selling breakfast on the streets. By selling I mean they were walking around with trays on their head and an assortment of food on the trays. There was everything from doughnuts to fresh plantains. There was even a live band consisting of vocals, a drum set, electric guitar, and African drummer playing for us.

We had the pleasure of enjoying a traditional breakfast of our choice of doughnuts (which were out of this world! From then on in we got them at every possible point that we could) along with a plastic bag full of porridge made from corn and other ingredients. The porridge was very bitter and had a reaction in the back of my throat as it went down that felt like cough syrup or something along those lines. Actually it’s that old Tylenol cool stuff that isn’t cool at all, rather it’s quite appalling. As we ate, children surrounded us pleading to have their picture taken, so of course we did just that. Watching their reaction to seeing themselves was hilarious. They would casually go look at the camera, their eyes would grow big, and then they’d burst out in laughter and turn to their friend and be embarrassed together.

I didn’t have a bag with me so I was carrying one of the two incredible soccer balls that Rocky and Shawn Rhoewedder (Rocky is a professor and Shawn is his wife on board) donated to the schools we were visiting. There is an organization called One World Futbol that created an indestructible soccer ball after the founder went to Darfur and realized that the balls they were playing with would only last a few weeks before they’d be popped. Consequently, he took the idea to the singer Sting who funded the project, they bought out an old Crocs factory in Canada and now produces soccer balls made of the same material that Crocs are made of. They can’t be stabbed, or popped, or anything and they are all FIFA certified. They started this campaign called One for One. It’s almost like the TOMS shoes of soccer balls. As you buy a ball, they donate one to a place in need. Rocky and Shawn contacted the corporation and told them about Semester at Sea. The company shipped the first 46 balls to ever be given away to the ship in Halifax and Jules and I were lucky enough to receive two of them to take to the village with us. As I carried this ball around, person after person kept trying to take it for themselves. It was a struggle to hold onto it. At one point this older woman came up to me, pointed at the ball, then pointed at her chest and muttered something to me. I had no idea what she was saying so I just smiled and nodded my head. I was later informed that she was telling me the ball was as big as her breasts…. There was definitely a language barrier for that one!

We then went to the “palace” to meet the elders of the village. When you greet them you should go down the line with your left hand behind your back and offer your right to shake. I say “palace” because it’s not what we think of in America when we hear that word. It instead appeared to be like any other house. There, the elders welcomed us with kind words and open arms. We were granted free movement around the village and free hospitality for any time we wished to return (which I hope is very soon!).


After hundreds of more pictures had been taken, we split from the water project to head on over to our first school which was called the Akwame village school. The transportation to get there was very unique. The plan was to go to the farms first to experience that aspect of Ghanaian life and lend a hand where needed. It had been drizzling all morning but that didn’t stop us from climbing into the bed of a supersized pickup truck with benches in the back. This was the normal transportation for the farmers every single day. There was eight of us, Fred, and about three female farmers in the back of the truck. Shortly after we left the main road turned into a one lane dirt road full of bumps and holes. It started to rain a little bit harder, but we were more preoccupied with all of the forests we were passing through. The thing is though, those so called forests were actually farms. We all were thinking of our stereotypical farm with the fields of grain and corn, but in reality that’s not what Ghana grows. These were farms of plantain trees, palm trees, cocoa plants, and okra plants which explained the dense foliage. All of the sudden it starts to become a torrential downpour as the driver is driving at least 40mph with all of these bumps on the way. I was standing up and was forced to dodge tree branches from smacking me in the face left and right. Chris Hatch got smacked in the face at one point and all of the ladies in the back proceeded to laugh so hard I’m pretty sure one of them started crying, haha. The rain painful as it hit my left cheek and it was impossible to turn your head forward to see where we were going. Thank goodness that Heidi had a water proof camera because it made for some pretty amazing videos. As we drove down this road we passed people on the side walking to their farms with tools on their heads. Why didn’t they get in the transportation? Because they can’t afford it. They instead have to walk a half hour, sometimes up to an hour, to and from the farm everyday carrying their heavy supplies and crops on the way home. At one point we passed a man herding his cattle while riding on his bicycle. Definitely a sight we were not used to seeing. The longer we drove, the harder the rain came down and the road became flooded a bit so the ride became one of those car rides in the movies where the nervous driver alternates between the gas and breaks on a constant basis.

Finally we made it to the school. We were told the farm was flooded and too damp to go work in so instead we happily started our time with the students earlier than planned. The heavens continued to open up as more and more rain came down. We were hopping over tiny rivers throughout the property in order to make it to shelter. There, we regrouped, dispersed our huge bag of supplies and went to take a tour of the school.

The school had four “buildings.” They were actually huts. They had no walls whatsoever so the rain splashing in the puddles would get inside. The roof was made of tin which happened to have several holes in it causing leaks into the classrooms. Those two things alone are too many distractions, let alone the absolutely shocking lack of supplies. These kids had NOTHING. The teachers had NOTHING to teach with. I’d say about every other child had a pencil. One in maybe every ten had a notebook for notes. The chalkboard was made of plywood that was spray painted black. No books for reading, no flashcards, no textbooks, nothing. They did, however, all manage to have school uniforms which I found interesting since they couldn’t afford anything else. Their soccer “field” was dirt with goal posts made from bamboo. Everything hit us at once and some of us just wanted to cry. When we saw this school and the lack of smiles on the students’ faces, all of our morals, values, and everything we thought we knew went out the window. It was like the hand of God came down and gave us a giant smack on the face.

Here’s a brief description of the (screwed up) Ghanaian school system. There are five classes, which are like grades in America. The youngest children are in 1 and the oldest in 5. The main subjects are math, English (which is mixed with some local dialect), religion, and science. Each year they take exams provided by their instructors in order to move into the proceeding class. After completing class five, the students must take a national exam in order to enter high school. This is where the problem is. As I so obviously stated before, these kids have NOTHING. The exams are based on the textbooks, but if the students in the village don’t have the books then how are they supposed to take pass the exam and enter high school? It’s impossible! I don’t believe that any kind of education is pointless, but theoretically it is in this case. The schools are government regulated in Ghana, but chances are the government doesn’t even know that the Akwame village exists amongst all of the forests so it’s not like they go in to check on progress or anything. These students are set up from failure from the start. They can pass their professor’s exams but it’s almost as if their education comes to a blatant halt after class five. Most of them don’t even bother trying to get into high school and they never step foot in another school again. Instead they go find work in the city such as selling fruits on the streets or go aid their families on the farm. Most of the students that attend this specific school come from poor and illiterate families so the parents don’t see the point in education. Instead, they keep their children home sometimes to work on the farm. When it’s raining out like it was on the day we were there, half the students don’t show up because they have to walk so far to get there. We ended up walking one student home for over an HOUR before we made it to his three house village down a dirt path. Transportation only runs on certain days, so say on Tuesdays it doesn’t run, then attendance for that day is usually at an all time low. These kids start walking to school hoping that a farmer truck passes by and offers to give them a ride. It’s horrible. Fred introduced me to a friend of his that he started school with who is now washing cars for a living. It was a living, breathing example of the problems with education in Ghana.

We split up into pairs in order to spend time in the different classrooms. Sarah and I spent time in class two. We decided to pull out some coloring books and crayons since these kids had never colored before in their lives, in fact they called it painting. We had to go around and explain that you should color in the entire picture, not just trace the lines in color. It was a struggle for them to realize that white crayons will not show up on white paper, but we watched the evolution of artists unfold. Still though, as they experienced producing color on paper for the first time, not one child cracked a smile. At one point the teacher had the students stand up and start singing “If you’re happy and you know it…” which made me smile because I joined right in, but still they had stone cold faces. It broke my heart to be standing there amongst all of this. Sarah and I then attempted to teach them their animals with the flashcards that my (awesome) field office boss, Leah donated. I even made the noises and STILL no smiles. That to me, is one of the greatest problems at that school. Just a side note: for lunch we had Red Red which again (no surprise) consisted of bread and a fishy dipping sauce. This one had more of a kick to but was still delicious.

As the school day ended we met with the headmaster, got information on the school, and observed the end of the day activities. It FINALLY stopped raining so we gathered outside and all of the classes lined up together. They said a prayer as one and were dismissed. Before everyone left, Jules and I presented the soccer ball to the headmaster. We needed pictures of the kids playing to send back to One World for their website, but it was honestly like pulling teeth. The only person to play with me was one of the teachers. It was depressing.

We walked a group of kids home from school to experience what it was like for them day in and day out. A couple kids had machetes with them because that’s how far back in the brush their villages are. They literally have to Indiana Jones it out of there in the morning to get to school. Chris H. ended up going a little bit crazy with one, or in his words “had too much fun.” After an hour of walking, we veered off from the group with one kid and said our farewells to the others whom I’d like to point out still had to walk over another hour to get home. We followed this child down a tiny dirt path back into the forest. As we passed through some giant leaves, a tiny village of about three houses emerged. Immediately this boy took us to the back of the house and started climbing an orange tree. Let me just say that we were all incredibly concerned for his safety as he kept going over to the weak branches to toss down some oranges for us. At first we felt bad taking their fruit from them but in Ghana fruit is shared. If you see some oranges on someone’s property, it’s perfectly acceptable to go over and take one for yourself. Needless to say we had a plethora of oranges when this kid finally understood the words “that’s plenty.” As we walked out of the village we passed a little boy. Fred asked him why he wasn’t in school that day and the boy’s father responded “I didn’t feel like sending him.” Just another perfect example of the lack of education in the area.

There’s honestly so much to say about Ghana and I haven’t even processed it yet so the next parts of the blog will be summarized. PLEASE feel free to e-mail me at chtoone@semesteratsea.net if you need more details. I’d be happy to respond.
So we got back in the huge pickup truck and headed back to Senase. I’ll spare the details on this one but let’s just say that the water village didn’t exactly do what they were supposed and get their project done on time so we ended up missing the drumming and dance AGAIN (this is when I started to get frustrated since it was for my class) but Fred being the awesome guy that he is rescheduled it again for the morning before we left. While we waited in our house, Sam, Chris, Grant and I decided to go play outside so I pulled out another soccer ball I brought and started to kick it around. Within 5 minutes we went from five kids to ten kids to fifty kids to well over one hundred kids. It was insanity. Grant gave them all lifesavers and needless to say, he ran out as more kids started piling into the street. They would walk us back to our house as if to say they wanted more candy. One little girl grabbed my hand so tight and wouldn’t let go and dragged me back there five times. At one point I turned into the rope in tug of war since everyone wanted an arm to grab. I had about twenty Ghanaian kids tugging at my arms while Sam and Chris and five other kids were pulling on my hips. I swear I got some serious air during that. Grant and Chris thought of the brilliant idea to teach them how to high five. It worked well, until I was curled up in a ball on the ground surrounded by thirty kids hitting my hands that I held over my head for protection. I have to say the cutest part of it all was that these kids didn’t know how to react to being tickled. You would tickle them, they would cock their heads and look at you funny, and then decide to laugh. It was by no means instantaneous. Soon after they realized we were jungle gyms. Chris and I were doing bicep curls with kids hanging off of our arms and at any given point we had about three kids trying to jump on our backs or life their friends up.

After two hours of playing, we kindly asked a mother to shoo the kids away so we could get back to our room. She fulfilled our request and we walked away while waving good bye and less than a minute later we turned around to twenty kids following us back to our room. We struggled to get inside and proceeded to put our oh-so-solid fold up chair in front of the door. It was borderline like a horror movie as we were surrounded on all four sides by little kids banging on the windows. All of the sudden we saw the chair fly across the room and the door had been kicked in by a little boy who was now standing in the doorway. At first we were shocked and then all we could do was laugh.

We had the traditional food of fufu for dinner which was slimy to the point where you have to almost swallow it whole but the sauce you dunked it in was delicious. That night we headed into town to sample some local beer which was much better than in the states.

September 24th, 2010: Break it down

That morning we woke up and headed to the village center in order to finally experience drumming and dance. The people put on 3 dances in front of the Chief, elders, and most of the village. After the third dance we were told that it’s tradition for us to get up and show the people what we saw. After our initial laughs and embarrassment, we all got up and broke out into our best (which was the worst ever) African dance. We formed a dance circle and all took turns in the spotlight. That was definitely something I never would have done, but they make you feel so welcome there we just couldn’t resist.

After we left, which took a while because our van was surrounded by the villagers, we headed to a second school about ten minutes away. This school was completely different. They had walls, supplies, everything. Every single child had a smile on their face and were so happy to see us. A completely different dynamic than the Akwame Village. It was tough to see such a blatant difference in two schools that were separated by a matter of minutes. When we present the soccer ball here, everything went nuts and it was one big game of every man for himself. It was nearly impossible to capture a picture.

We finally made it back to the ship around 9pm. Everyone was surprised we made it back alive and to be honest, I had no words to describe to them what I had just been a part of. They were probably happy about that since I hadn’t showered for three days so I’m sure my stench wasn’t quite appealing.

September 25th: Time to spend some Cedis

We hit up the market on the last day. It’s called the circle market because the shops form one giant circle. I got some African beads, a drum (YES!), and some fabrics. The market place smelled like garbage since, well, there were piles of garbage laying on the streets. They had everything from fruits to baby toys to cell phones to mattresses. Definitely an experience.

A little boy named James started following us around. He was 10 years old and took us all over the city. At first we were a bit skeptic, but in the end he asked for nothing in return. He found us a restaurant to eat and directed us around the city and back to the port. If we asked to get somewhere, he would do his best to find us the location. It was like a personal tour guide. What a kid.

We made it back to the ship, I spent my last Cedis on an amazing painting at the port gates and listened to the artisans bid us a farewell as we exited the port.

That night at post port reflections I really had nothing to say. There were no words to convey what I had experienced. I could go on forever about all of the details. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. That is very true. I have a thousand words for each and every picture…. And have over two thousand pictures. By the end, Fred was introducing me as “This is Chris, he’s going to come live with us for a while.” And the thing was, I felt so happy when he said that. I didn’t want to leave at all.

As a follow up some of us are working on launching The Senase Project to benefit the Akwame school. We hope to build a school house, provide supplies, maybe even bicycles so the kids can get to school. We hope to have this launched by the time we step off of the ship in San Diego.



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Cape Town

South Africa tomorrow. This morning Desmond Tutu lectured our global studies class for the entire time. I have sound bites and quotes so hopefully I'll be able to post them at some point.

 

Cape Town is supposed to be the most beautiful port as we sail in across the bay and see the entire city. Tomorrow I'm planning on heading over to the world cup stadium. I'm also getting to Robben Island and hiking up Table Mountain. The rest of the time is spent in the Townships doing service projects. I really have no idea what to expect.

 

I apologize that this post is so short. After four classes in a row followed by 2 hours of work study... I'm beat and we dock at 6am so it's going to be another early morning. I FINALLY finished the Ghana blog so once internet gets figured out I'll be able to post it. If all else fails then it'll happen while in Cape Town.

 

As the Archbishop said today... "Don't let the cynicism of older people bring you down. Stay ambitious and change the world."