Alas I have a structured space to sit and reflect. There have been so many thoughts in my mind and I will try now to form them in some semblance of understandable narrative.
This summer was soulfully revolutionary. Two months in Ghana and I felt I’ve lived a life I was always meant to live. I slept, ate, worked, laughed, and adventured in Ghana. I knew I loved people, and now I know I really love Ghanaians. They are smart, kind, caring, extroverted, and a million other adjectives. Most of all they are welcoming.
Upon arrival in Kumasi, Schandorf picked us up from the airport, excited to meet us and share with us the Ghana handshake. He drove us to our homestay where we met our host family, Ernest, Rosemary, and Emmanuela. The next day was in the office, and then the following day we had an early morning for a field day. It was on this day that I really began to see the beauty of the Ghanaian people. When we arrived we waited as the village began to gather for a Farmerline workshop. The workshop went by and they we waited; a whole bunch of farmers, a few people from Farmerline, and two Obronis. To be honest, it was a slight bit awkward at first, then things changed when one of the farmer’s daughters brought out her baby. Isn’t it funny how the youngest of children build the biggest of bridges.Before long we were all mixing and mingling and waiting for the other half of our field team to come over from another village. Once we all got together some of the farmers took us out to their fields to share how they work.
Now I could go into detail about the process that is farming, though all you need to know is that it is tedious, and all I want to say is what I learned. What I learned is this: people work to goddam hard for not nearly enough. Not enough recognition for their work, not enough return yield on their crop, not enough money for what they do yield. And yet, they were so thankful for the hour we spent with them, that they could just share their work with us. We spent even more time with them, shared some sugar cane and smiles as our language was not mutual. That is how I understood that language is but a tool, and true expression need not be verbalized. I could not speak a lick of Twi, and they not much english, and yet, we seemed to get along just fine. Sometimes you just know, you just kind of feel when someone wishes you well and when someone wants to be a friend to you. That’s how I felt about them, and I assume them to me.
This first field experience was far and beyond the rest, and I think that was because we were able to spend so much time with the farmers. The other times that we went out into the field we never went out into the field. We instead went to towns and villages and had workshops, and I capture photos and film, though we never went out into the farms again. That being said, I was able to have a few more moments like the first in other places.
In Dawu, it was just me and Schandorf. Schandy was giving the presentation as I walked around with my camera capturing. This one woman singled me out later and kept talking to me in Twi. Schandy kept laughing and not translating. Eventually he told me that she wanted me to stay with her, work on her farm with her, etc. I laughed and said that up to him (Schandy), and he said no. She just wanted to share things with me. Her name, her village, her home, her life. A similar experience happened in Atwima Takadori and in Montonsua among other places. People just wanted to share and give and show. The hospitality shown by every person that I met truly affected me.
One weekend we were able to go to Cape Coast. There we went to Cape Coast castle, which was used as a slave hold for millions of slaves as they were transported across the Atlantic. Our tour there made me terrified of the humanity (or lack thereof) that used to exist. A lot of other emotions aside, it also made me wonder how forgiveness could ever be given to my people (white people) for what they did. I know I am not responsible for my ancestors mistakes, though I still feel a terrible remorse. What white people did, has and will continue to echo throughout history. Is it white guilt I feel? Probably, though it is beyond that. It is an understanding of the roots of the struggle. I fully sympathize, though I will not ever be able to fully empathize, however hard I try. That is the sad reality. That our human history is so shattered that our stories may never merge again.
I went back to field visits after that experience and I had new eyes and an older soul. How could people, people who were so directly affected by the brutality of my people, want to share anything with me? Even the same air I breathe. I would imagine there must be so much hate. And perhaps there is, but it doesn’t show the way I would imagine. Why is that? I still don’t have an exact answer yet. All I know is that getting closer to an answer means listening to people as they tell their story.
So now I’m a senior and I’m going to graduate and get a job and live life and how does all that fit into my future. I think it actually defines my future. I think it means that whatever I do, wherever I go, I find a way to connect people. If I pursue marketing that means that I follow one mantra. Tell stories.