Picking up where we left off...as I left Sierra Leone, it was much more emotional than I thought it would be. I took a twilight flight from Freetown to Accra, Ghana. Whole new country, without much difference. From what I hear, a lot of West Africa is like that, only subtle differences between these tiny countries that were carved out by colonial powers along arbitrary lines in the first place. The real differences lie between tribal cultures and level of development. That was one Ghana had on Sierra Leone big time, development. Where Sierra Leone (left) is the worst off of all the West African countries, Ghana is the best. To the naked eye, this doesn't really mean much.As I flew over, I still saw pockets of black out, but they lessened as we got closer to the country's capital, Accra. Driving to the hotel, it honestly just looked like Sierra Leone with more electricity and a better paint job. Also, knowing no one, and having no idea what I was doing, I decided to play my night in Accra, "European Resort Style." Which means you just aren't going to see the real Africa at all. I paid through the nose for a super fancy resort that failed to meet me at the airport (rest assured, Lonely Planet will be hearing about this, mwhamwah) and had questionable sheets. Tony Blair (when a sitting PM) stayed here so I figured how bad could it be? As I got there, it dawned on me, upkeep. The common area was nice though, so I spent my one night there, hob knobbing with various flight crews, Air Kenya and Lufthansa were there, this is now the airline staff hotel of choice. The next morning I woke up at 5 min till sunrise (yes, dorkinator jones checked this ahead of time) to watch the sunrise over the beach that this pricey hotel is located on. So ok, paying through my nose had been worth it.
Not only was the sunrise over the Atlantic totally beautiful, no, I was not smart enough to bring a camera, too scared by exaggerated anti-theft signs plastered all over hotel, but I saw the only glimpse of real Ghana I had before catching my 10am flight back to JFK. I was able to comb the beach for shells, one of which I did keep, I know some frown on this practice, but I just kept one. Saw some weird jelly like creatures washed up that I (who am from Florida and am an amateur Marine Biologist) could not identify. And my favorite part, saw the Ghanaian Football (soccer) team practicing! Most of them were barefoot, some had on flip flops (can you imagine running in flip flops), and a few even had athletic looking footwear. They looked of college age and very serious so I couldn't resist asking what team they were. As it would happen they were the University of Ghana's team and another voyeur told me that if anyone from Ghana had a chance of getting recruited to a more high profile league like the European leagues, they would come from the barefoot group I was watching practice on the beach here at 6:15. There was broken glass on the beach.
I then realized I was super late and rushed to get my flight to JFK in the nick of time. Luckily the security in Accra was nowhere near the craziness in Sierra Leone, where I went through no less than 3 hand searches of my luggage including being asked to remove my camera battery, asked for several bribes (even though it's illegal to take currency out of the country) and the geniuses in front of me locked their hand luggage and I quote, "caused very very big problems" for airport security, no doubt costing the geniuses dearly.
NYC
Because my flight home was on Delta Airlines, boarding it made me feel a little bit more at home already. That was good because all the culture shock one would expect came in slower waves and wasn't what I expected. My friend and fellow SLVP member John met me at JFK and it was good see a familiar face, I think I find JFK more intimidating than several airports overseas, maybe even some of the ones I hit for the first time at night, at least Accra is small and you just know that you can forgive yourself for following your instinct to say no to everything. At JFK, it's America, you speak the language, you can read and you should know better.
It was weird to see huge highways and heavy traffic, bright lights and to be cold. We immediately started dishing on everything I'd seen as the village of Fadugu and especially the time I'd spent with Y.S. Mansaray which was so important to John, as he was the co-author of Black Man's Grave and had lived there before the war. As we went through my photos on my digital display, there were photos of burnt out buildings that I knew had existed when he'd lived there, I was scared to show them to him. But he took them in with silence and resignation, as if he were expecting them.The next day was honored to partake in John's daily ritual with his son Lahy (he picks Lahy up from his mom's and takes him to school). Lahy is somewhat of a personal hero of mine, he speaks Japanese fluently, reads and writes it, is musically talented and freakishly skillful with maps. All things I strive to be yet fail at (oh and Lahy is I think 10). Then I went to John's office in Manhattan. John is a Union Representative for the Cinematographer's Guild, so naturally his office was totally cool. I was trying to act casual, but not doing a good job and I had an agenda while on my one day layover in NYC. I hadn't been there since the late 90s. I was dreading where I knew I had to go.
One would think that having just come from the second poorest country in the world would toughen me up a bit. Or perhaps my previous world tour that was inadvertently a tour of world atrocities (the island prison of Nelson Mandela, the site where Gandhi was assassinated, Anne Frank's house, Nanking, Nagasaki, the list goes on) would make me a little jaded. But I think it's different when it's on your turf and during your generation. So I got on the Subway (yes, with help) for the first time, and went to the World Trade Center.
I think what surprised me the most was how much things seemed to be going on like normal. Most of the people I saw there weren't tourists like me; they were New Yorkers, going about their day. The cops looked kind of bored. The actual site of ground zero was enormous and all fenced in. I did peek in and was happy with the flurry of activity. I worked hard not to really connect it with what had happened there or why. I worked hard not to compare it with the thousands of building shells littering Sierra Leone that will never be rebuilt and will simply be reclaimed by the bush. It was a bright and sunny day; I didn't have it in me to go there.
I think I would have if I had gone into the museum/memorial that has been put together. Time constraints didn't allow me to and maybe the same part of me that will not watch re-enactments or turn on the news every Sept, 11th didn't want to go in. I did lose it at the fire station a little. Just a little, nothing too embarrassing, this is New York, gotta keep my composure. And seeing the hustle and bustle of the city reminded me of why I liked it so much.Then I made it back to John's office on the subway (by myself, yesss). And back home to SF, for a little while anyway:)
Cheers,
Maureen
