As I left the interview, informed that I had been accepted to the Ghana study abroad program, a sense of excitement and anxiety came over me. The fact that I was really going to Africa didn't quite sink in however until I stepped off the plane at the Accra airport. Not only was I overcome with the humidity as I took my first steps on foreign ground, but I was also overcome immediately with the people and their conditions.
I had tried to imagine what it might be like over here, but no text books or pictures could even begin to describe the way I would feel simply driving down the streets. Not only has this trip taught me about the people here in Ghana, it has given me a deeper appreciation for life, and has allowed me to learn more about myself.
On my first Ghanaian taxi ride, I got more than I bargained for. The driver kept saying something about a “piece,” but none of us really knew what he was talking about. As he pulled over just outside the airport, I began to get a little nervous. When he ran a few yards out and undid his zipper, our faces changed from that of concern to relief and laughter. I was so glad that all he was doing was going to the bathroom. Although it was a rather unconventional way of welcoming someone to their country, I took it as a welcome none the less.
After catching up on our sleep, and trying to adjust to the time change, we headed to the beach. I was expecting a relaxing day soaking up the sun, but as soon as we arrived, I knew it would be nothing of the sort. People immediately bombarded us, trying to sell us shoes and jewelry, or even paint our nails. My initial frustration quickly changed however when I realized why these people were trying so intently to sell us their goods.
They weren't trying to make a few extra bucks so they could upgrade their car or take a trip to the mall; they were simply trying to make enough money to feed their family. A small boy, no older than five, came up to us pointing to his mouth, asking for food. When we gave the boy some chicken, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. It broke my heart to think that back home having food is a given, but here it was a treat, a luxury.
“Hugging, do you think you can get HIV by hugging someone?” Asking this question along with the several others like it started to become second nature. The responses to the questions however surprised me every time. I had never heard that “deep kissing” or “going to the barber” were ways to contract HIV. The responses seemed to be just as unique as the individuals who gave them. The level of knowledge was extremely broad. While one child would fly through the questions, getting almost every one correct, the next would struggle, uncertain about every answer they gave.
Teaching our first HIV/AIDS lesson went more smoothly than I had expected. The kids were quite responsive and excited to answer all of our questions. As I sat back down after teaching, an overwhelming feeling came over me. How was I going to make a difference? Then I remembered an old story about making a difference. An old man approached a little boy who was throwing starfish back into the ocean and asked him why he was doing it. Didn't he know that he couldn't possibly make a difference, there were thousands? Throwing another starfish in, the little boy looked to the man and said, “Well for that one I made a difference.”
Looking at what we are trying to do as a whole can seem like a rather daunting task, but focusing on the individual made it much more approachable. I had to put aside the perfectionist in me, and realize that if only five children applied what we were teaching to their lives, that would be enough. Those five would have happier families because of it, and hopefully the trend would continue throughout their posterity.
Every group we taught seemed to welcome us with more enthusiasm than the last. I couldn't believe how excited everyone was to learn. It enthralled me to watch them pay attention so intently, soaking up every ounce of knowledge we gave them. I love that we were able to teach on a subject that is so real to them. Going to school is something I have always taken for granted. When I was little I would fake a stomach ache or tell my mom I had a fever in hopes of being allowed a day off from school.
