I heart plantains.

A week and a half has gone by, and I think I’ve mustered enough thinking power to rehash my life, the very life that has been implanted into this intensely vibrant, welcoming, and humbling place called Ghana. So, since arriving here, I’ve eaten the most delicious food—plaintains are a daily affair, in addition to the red-red (a Ghanaian dish of beans, spices, and mashed plantains), jollof rice, and the array of fresh juices like pineapple, watermelon, ginger, papaya, and pear. I must say, my spice tolerance is at an all-time high…like “habanera pepper-wasabi-Asian chili sauce” high. But apart from the excellent cuisine, I’ve danced under the stars to high life (the genre of music popular in Africa) and sipped on gingerale-like beer by Labadi Beach, attended a Rastafarian funeral and taken part in ceremonial libations…and gyrations (innocent dancing, I swear), and witnessed the most incredible dance/drum ensemble in a small rural town called Kokrobite.

Deet has become my very toxic, but mosquito-repelling friend. I spray the stuff like it’s perfume, but around here, you never know when those damn malaria-carrying bugs are going to strike. I’m living in Labone, which is one the wealthiest neighborhoods in Accra, if not all of Ghana, so I feel very spoiled. On top of that, NYU has put us all in these four gargantuan, marble-floored apartments with personal balconies and whirlpool tubs. It feels excessive, but my CRA (Community Resource Assistant) Linda, who is this petite Ghanaian woman who wears the most beautiful batik dresses and says cute things like “Wo dada me” which means “You’re sweet talkin’ me” in Twi, told us to enjoy it while we have it since things like this don’t come very often. If NYU wants to pay money for fancy TVs and DVD players and cleaners that come three times a week, I guess I have no choice. Though for those that feared my TV withdrawals, I think you’ll be very shocked to hear that I haven’t spent more than 2 minutes in front of the screen this whole time. And that was only because I was intrigued by a Spanish soap opera that was on, which was even worse because it was really horribly dubbed in English.

In fact, there are a lot of random foreign influences, or perhaps waves of infiltration, in Accra (the capital of Ghana). Celine Dion, for one, gets a LOT of airplay. Honestly, she should ditch the whole Las Vegas act because she has a definite following in Ghana. As far as music I’ve heard on the radio, there’s a ridiculous amount of country…Shania Twain is a favorite, blasting from even the modest-looking market shack on my walk to class…and I’ve also been exposed to reggae versions of Ace of Base’s “Don’t Turn Around,” as well as the more regionally popular hip life and high life music. I actually learned in my African Popular Music class that the term “high life” came from the 1930s, 1940s era when the African elites started adopting Westernized forms of music like ballroom and orchestral arrangements. The lower class would watch these higher class people, supposedly living the “high life,” and then would reinterpret the Western-influenced ballroom music they heard through the traditional African styles of music. Thus, “high life” was born.

I actually started classes this week and I’m just now feeling settled as far as my schedule goes. It took some rearranging, but the final load is as follows: Traditional Medicine, African Popular Music, Projects in Photography, African Art Past and Present, and Postcolonial Practices in Studio Art. The first one I’m taking is at Asheshi which is a private local school just around the corner from NYU’s Academic Center. The music class is at the University of Ghana, Legon, which is about a 30-40 minute car ride from Accra. We have vans that shuttle us back and forth, so it’s pretty convenient. It’s nice to be on a real Ghanaian college campus, though it definitely took me asking directions 15 times before I knew where my classes were (there are no campus maps, and everyone seems to be a lot less hurried when it comes to time or giving instructions in general).

This weekend I’ll be visiting Cape Coast and Elmina, which is where the slave castles are located. It’s going to be a really emotionally rough experience, but I’m glad I have Kristen and Rachel to sort things out. We’ve had a lot of revelatory conversations about being spoiled, selfish, individualistic Americans lately, which has been really good as far as trying to come to terms with the extreme contrasts in wealth, lifestyles, and priorities in Ghana. I’ve been made very aware of what I look like and what ethnicity I am (I’ve been called China Girl a few times and hawkers will often greet me with a friendly “Ni Hao” or “Konichiwa” before I tell them I’m NOT Korean/Chinese/Japanese). There’s a lot to take in, and I’m trying my best to just be open. I mean, my city walking pace has already slowed down considerably since I’ve been here, so I think the next 4 months will only bring more changes…and *patience*.