Sunshine in Africa

I’m finally home.

The last few days have been incredibly wonderful, and incredibly exhausting at the same time.

I just put on some of my country tunes to relax, water in the boiling pot to drink, and of course my fan on so I can get some cool air in my room.

Today, a group of my friends and I went to Independence Square to celebrate March 6—Ghana’s Independence Day! Today was the 53rd anniversary, and I felt honored to be celebrating with hundreds and hundreds of Ghanaians in Accra. I even got to see the President arrive in his motorcade and wave to everyone attending the march. Independence Day wasn’t as big as of a deal as I thought it would be, but still, watching the military forces and school children enter the square with precise marching movements was fascinating. After the ceremony, we spent some time in town at a few markets, and I came back home totally spent. Not only was I tired from a day of intense heat and lots of walking, but I only got 3 hours of sleep from the night before! Theresa, Chrissy, Lindy, Karlie, Taylor, Rachel, Patrick, and I crammed into Theresa’s room last night for an epic sleepover! We played apples to apples among other things and had a really fun time. I feel so grateful to have the friends I have here—I think there is a strong mutual understanding that we all have each other’s backs, and that we will all take care of each other while we are abroad here in Ghana.

Still, no other day this weekend, rather, no other day during my time in Ghana, or quite possibly my life was quite like Friday.

Friday was absolutely what life should be about.

We—the Kissemahn school volunteers/teachers—got to take the kids to the beach.

It sounds like a field trip, right?

And well, it was. Except, most of these kids LIVE 30 minutes away from the beach had never been before. It was a lot more than a field trip.

We arrived at Kissemahn close to 10:00 am. As we turned the corner to where we were to meet all of the kids, I outwardly gasped at the amount of kids I saw waiting on Kwame’s porch. I was thinking 15 kids would show up. 20 tops. Oh no, we had 37 kids, wearing the best clothes that they own, ready for the beach. I knew it was going to be a good time.

Kwame, the director of the school program, had a friend charter a tro tro bus for us. It was big and orange, and somehow, we managed to squeeze in over 40 of us! That is certainly the most amount of people I have ever been on a tro tro with. Before we left though, I went to one of the children’s homes to make sure it was okay with his parents that he came to the beach. Kwayze shyly brought me to his mother and she seemed excited about the opportunity for Kwayze to see the beach. They invited me into their home, and as I waited on a bench, Kwayze’s mother had him bathe, eat lunch, and put on his nice jean outfit, likely the nicest outfit he owns. It touched my heart. Once he was ready we quickly ran back to the tro tro bus—it was time to go!

We sang songs the whole way to the beach. My favorite, no question, is a song we sing with the kids almost every day. It goes like this:

When the sun shines in Africa

Beautiful people in Africa

Sunshine in Africa

Move around in Africa

Sunshine in Africa

Beautiful people in Africa

We give thanks to the Lord of Mighty.

We had an original plan of going to a free beach, but due to the beach being primarily rocks against the rushing ocean, we opted for Labadi Beach, which by the grace of some kind-hearted people, allowed all of the kids to get in free, and only the adults had to pay 1 cedi.

I was holding the hands of so many beautiful children as we approached the beach. One girl, Favor, looked up at me and asked if the pond nearby was the beach. I could only smile and assure her, “Just you wait, it’s so much better.”

Once they could see the ocean grazing along the sandy beach the looks in their eyes filled with utter excitement, happiness, and curiosity. They screamed and yelled as we got closer, running into the water for the first time. Eventually, many of the kids just took off their clothes and jumped in without any hesitation. They played in the sand, they screamed the entire day, and there was so much laughter. It was perfect. I couldn’t believe I was witnessing something so pure, a moment where so many kids could just be kids. They were happy. Those few hours at the beach, I am sure, are some of my most treasured memories already. Friday, was one of the most moving, incredible, and just great days that I have ever lived.

I wish I could express the emotions of that day better. But, the expressions of these children, the sounds of laughter, and joy that we all felt is really just completely beyond words.

 

Labadi Beach

I've been to a lot of beaches in my lifetime. I've been lucky enough to spend time on both the East and West Coasts of America, on the coast of Costa Rica, on a variety of beaches in Mexico, and even the Gulf of Mexico during time I've spent in the South.

 I went to a beach in Accra yesterday—Labadi Beach—and it was a lot different than other beaches I've been to. For starters, it wasn't as if we left campus, took a stroll, and managed to find a nearby beach. No, quite the contrary.

 Me and about 12 of my friends walked to the "tro-tro" station to catch a ride to the transfer station. A "tro-tro" is the public transportation system here in Ghana, used by those who don't want to ride the bus and don't want to pay more money for a taxi. Yesterday, I found myself in a tro-tro with 24 people including myself. The tro tro looks like an oversized van, and in each row people squish together to fit as many people as possible. Many of these people are tired, sweaty, and ready to get home. Sometimes, the tro-tro driver will play music from a local radio station. I like when he does that because it makes me feel like I fit in a little more. It's not like I want to go unnoticed, but when you walk around in a country that has an overwhelming majority of black people with a group of 10 white kids, you inevitably stick out.

 We had to stop at another transfer station to head to the beach. Getting on the second tro-tro was even more ridiculous, as we had to cross two busy streets with a chaotic amount of cars. It was a stressful situation not only because I thought I was going to get hit, but right after we crossed the street I was stopped by a beautiful Indian woman for money. She grabbed my arm and looked at me desperately. I wanted to give her something, I really did, but one thing I learned here is that you really never know where that money might be going. I politely declined and continued to walk forward, trying not to feel guilty. Right as I looked up I saw what looked to be like her son attempt to pickpocket a couple of ladies. More and more people crowded near us, asking for us to buy stuff from them, or to give them money, and I couldn't wait just to get to our tro-tro.

 We got on the next tro-tro and a sense of relief washed over me. It was a temporary relief though, because when we reached our final stop and got off the tro-tro we walked for a little ways before realizing the beach was nowhere in sight. A girl with us, Taylor, who studied in Ghana last semester, was leading us, and we ended up walking through an area that contained locals and their homes. We saw children running around in their underwear, women preparing dinner for that evening, chickens looking through sewage, and friends laughing together. I felt terrible. I felt like we intruded on their homes and their privacy, in an effort to find the beach of all places. I felt uncomfortable—not because of how the people treated us—but rather because of the entire situation. The last thing I really wanted to do was encroach on the homes of others, and it seemed like we did exactly that. When we finally reached the end of these homes we had to cross a small, rickety bridge and then cross another couple of streets. The beach was finally in sight.

 We had to walk about another mile down the edges of the beach, along the rocks, before we could relax. When we finally got to step on the sand and have the waves touch our feet, it felt perfect. We passed a couple games of football, a couple holding hands, and of course some guys wanting us to buy their necklaces. We had made it. Of course, the adventure of getting to the beach couldn't end that smoothly. Right as we were approaching the actual beach area a middle-aged man told us that we could pass if we gave him something small. Because we were white he thought he might be able to get a little something out of us. Taylor stood up for us and put that down pretty quickly.

 At the beach we got a big table, got a ton of chairs, and gathered around to hang out. We had some beers, good music, and had a lot of fun. I went in the ocean a couple of times, just to get my feet wet, and it was exhilarating.

 Minus some creepy guys trying to hit on all of us, the stench of pot in the air, and the lack of bathrooms, reggae night was a blast. Reggae night happens every Wednesday at Labadi Beach, and I can tell you I definitely won't be there every time, but the experience was something I will always remember. I met Rastafarians for the first time in my life. I took a taxi in Africa for the first time. I got offered a joint for the first time in my life. Last night was a lot of firsts for me. Really though, I think that is what the rest of my time in Africa will be like. A lot of firsts. That makes me excited and happy, because ultimately, that is why I am here.