The Ghana Immigration Office - Hell on Earth?

This morning, I finally received my passport complete with stamp allowing me to legally reside in Ghana for one year.

The residency saga began over a month ago. When we realized that our 6 month entry visas were actually only valid for 60 days after entering the country (you really have to read the fine print with these things), we tried to find out the process of applying for residency.

Unlike our pampered American friends, we don't have a program director in Ghana, so we were not spared the bureaucratic nightmare that is the Ghana Immigration Office. One would think that the process entails a) sending in the application and b) receiving the visa. Fools! We're in Ghana... how could it be so simple?

No. The average applicant has to make 4.5 trips over the span of a month to the immigration office before receiving their passport back. For me, it took no less than six visits. Here's a general breakdown of how it happened:

Visit the 1st: After a long time trying to find the building, was informed that there was a flag-raising ceremony, so the office was closed for the day.
Visit the 2nd: Angry clerk claimed that they could not accept applications from students until the university sent its official records. (Oops! So now we're offically illegal aliens thanks to the IPO's incompetence)
Visit the 3rd: Angry clerk would not accept application due to lack of required photocopy of letter of acceptance to the University of Ghana, despite bringing proof of registration and letter from university explicitly asking to extend my residency.
Visit the 4th: Angry clerk reluctantly accepted application. Thankfully overlooked incomplete proof of fee payment.
Visit the 5th: Arrived on Monday to claim passport. Despite the fact that it should have been done the previous Friday, angry clerk told me to come back next week.
Visit the 6th: Unceremoniously received passport from angry clerk.

And these are the lucky ones... Mel from Brock University had to go at least seven times. SEVEN TIMES. Every time, the angry life-hating clerk asks for yet another inconsequential piece of identification. Every time we tried to reason with the lady or ask to speak to a superior, we got a form response, as if we were talking to a customer service phoneline. Why does it have to be this way?

Kids, the moral of the story is that the Ghanaian bureaucracy is crap. I can't imagine how one would get a driver's license or apply for a building permit in this country. The immigration office is literally Hell on Earth.

PS - don't forget to bring every piece of identification you own (i.e. completed application forms, letter of acceptance, official request by university, 4 passport photos, photocopies of passport, visa, and student ID) or else the angry imps behind the glass window will deny you with a resounding "NEIN!"

All Systems Are Go...

Dear Diary,

Could today be the greatest Monday in the history of mankind? Most days you can only get one or two things done, due to travel times and things rarely working out the way you plan them to. However, I just had the most productive morning here since I arrived.

1) Reconfirmed that my ticket for London is legit.

2) After weeks of freaking out and multiple visits, I finally received my passport from the immigration office and am officially a legal resident of Ghana, which means now I'm allowed to go and come as I please. ("Go and come" - Ghanaian slang for leaving somewhere with the intention of returning shortly)

3) After weeks of suspense, I have been told by the Assistant Registrar that I will indeed be moved to a single room next semester! It will be in the new International Student Hostel ("ISH 2" or "Bizarro ISH" as I like to call it) that is almost complete, just down the road. So I'll have a new room, new facilities, be closer to the Night Market and - most importantly - have a personal space. Finally I can start settling in physically and mentally and as Jon has said, I'll have a place to hide. To say I'm excited would be an understatement. In the words of my dear friend Rick, I'm stoked!

Hallelujah and Amen: Mr. Obruni's Charismatic Evangelical Experience

A common invitation in Ghana (and sometimes also a roundabout way for women to court men, as I have experienced) is to come to one's church. People often ask us obrunis "when will you come to my church?" The problem for most is that they are not Christian and most agnostics/athiests aren't too keen on spending their Sunday morning in the middle of boisterous praise and worship. Loud noises aren't good for people with hangovers...

Even for myself, a fairly religious and church-going Catholic, churches in Ghana have been a source of discomfort. I like my worship joyful, but also on the more solemn side. However, my roommate Patrick had been asking me for the whole semester when I would be coming to church with him. Leila and Hannah had gone with him a few weeks ago and didn't have much positive to say about the experience. As uneasy as I had been with the idea, I decided that it would be good for both our relationship and my understanding of Ghanaian religion and culture, so I made sure to book this Sunday morning off, got dressed up and took a cab to North Legon...

To preface, Patrick is a member of the Charismatic Evangelical Movement. And that pretty much describes it well. The church was large, expensive-looking and the sort-of-compound that it was in had a number of other construction projects going on. When I entered (Patrick had to go and play on the keyboards), there was a huge choir singing and people were dancing and waving their hands in the air, like they just didn't care. I was also the only white guy in the room, so it took a while to get comfortable...

The basic run down of the service was singing - message from reverend - singing - message from another reverend - singing, etc. People were singing, crying aloud and one guy fell over and fainted. The main pastor, Rev. Steve Mensah, was charismatic indeed. He gave a Castro-worthy marathon sermon about the story of Job and how the Lord will provide for one, if they stick it out long enough.

As you can imagine, this church had a lot of money going into it. They asked for donations multiple times (really, a million cedi - $125 - isn't too much to support the ministry!) and reminded the congregation that the Lord would bless them. Rev. Mensah seems to be a pretty well-off preacher, considering he flew in from Canada last week (and went to South Africa not long before that). He casually mentioned how most pastors these days were in it for the money, but that he started up from nothing, so basically - like Job - he earned what was his (which, I'm told, is a lot). While I won't make a judgement call on it, I will say that I'm glad the Catholic Church maintains the vow of poverty for its priests.

While I had sat there in my chair throughout the entire service (and those three hours flew by suprisingly quickly), I kept my anthropologist's hat on, studying my surroundings. About 2 1/2 hours into it, somewhere between the singing and the preaching and the faith healing (yes, there was faith healing and I was feeling pretty uncomfortable, even in the back) I realized something: while the preachers, congregation and service were all Ghanaian, the service was completely in English, the songs were American-style (even I knew them) and most people dressed in formal Western attire. The whole thing could have taken place in the US, like the ones you see on TV and it seemed like it was completely imported. Not surprisingly, CEM's website identifies its headquarters in London. I'll bet my last 10,000 cedi that they've received large amounts of support from abroad.

While I am not a fan of these kinds of evangelical churches (I have many, many moral and ethical issues), I can see why people flock to them. They are exciting, provide intense religious encounters and probably are the brightest part of the average person's week (Patrick's life certainly revolves around it). For better or for worse, they have become firmly entrenched in Ghanaian society and judging by the presence they have on campus alone shows the influence that they exert. Evangelical Christianity is undoubtedly the fastest-growing industry in Ghana and millions of dollars are being poured into these ministries. One of the best jobs one can find in Ghana is in a church, because the cult of personality is huge. A church in Ghana is as good as its pastor. Hey, if you could be loved by thousands, live well and travel around the world, wouldn't you sign up? I'm not saying that those being "called" to ministry are dishonest, but that this situation requires much critical analysis. Apparently CEM's Archibishop is in some personal hot water that has thrown the church into crisis. Let's see what happens...

Peace, Love and Understanding,
Rev. Obruni

It's sunny, with a high of 32C... and it's almost Christmastime?

Out here near the equator you can easily forget that it's less than a month until Christmas. Then you and your friends go and watch "Love Actually", perhaps the most sentimental, syrupy and excessive holiday movie ever made. And we loved it.

The most gratifying part about it? While everyone got homesick, I realized that just like in the movie, I'll be meeting my love at Heathrow Airport in three weeks. Then it will be another three weeks of crusing around Ireland and London. I'm so excited for the holidays that I can barely think about what's happening now. (like, for instance, EXAMS) Could this be the greatest Christmas in recorded history? All signs point to yes.

Jounalists in Black Helicopters...

The other day, Adrienne said goodbye to her friend Nacho (or it could be "Natcho"... if it is, forgive my cultural ignorance) who, along with a few co-workers, came to Ghana to do some research on the local economy. I met them at a house party not long after I arrived (see: Dark Star Island) and Adrienne has been hanging out with them since then. Check out what they do for a living:

Basically, they work for this small, elite journalism agency that does contracts for major newsmagazines (the Economist, Harper's, etc.) doing field research and writing reports on what's going on in whatever corner of the world. They are flown to strange countries (eg. Ghana, Uzbekistan, Slovenia), work in small teams, do interviews and research for about three months, then fly back to wherever their boss is and hand in their reports. They get a short vacation, then do it all over again.

Unsuprisingly, the job is hectic, unpredicatble and the turnover rate is high. Imagining living that way for years. Far out...

Those Spoiled Americans... (Pt. II)

The yankees have done it again. They found another way to one-up us other international students and rub it in our faces.

How did they do it this time? Today was American Thanksgiving and they, being well-taken care of by their program directors, had full-course dinners of turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry, stuffing and the lot. They even had pumpkin and apple pies! They also dressed up all fine 'n' respectable and hung out in the lobby, like it was prom night or something...

And were any of us invited to these sumptious feasts? Hell, no! I ate rice-and-beans leftovers from last night, with pineapple Fanta.

Happy freaking Thanksgiving.

40 Million and Rising...

I found a very sobering story from CBC yesterday: The United Nations has released a report estimating that over 40 million people are living with HIV/AIDS. In addition, it says that:

- 4.9 million people were infected in the last year.
- 3.1 million people died of AIDS-related illnesses in the last year.
- Only one in ten HIV-positive people have been idetified through testing.
- Rates have increased in all areas of the world, except for the Carribbean.
- 64% of all new infections occur in Sub-Saharan Africa.

How does one even begin to wrap one's head around these numbers? They're simply immense. Nothing like this has ever been seen before in recorded history.

For me, the strangest thing is that even though I am living in an African city and have been for over three months, I still have yet to meet a single HIV-positive person. This isn't to say that they aren't around, but rather I've never known a person who has admitted to being postive. Quite simply, it isn't talked about. The issue is out there, with billboards, stickers, t-shirts - all warning people to abstain and/or be faithful and use a condom (commonly known as the ABC method). It's an invisible killer - and that's the most dangerous thing about it. How do we stop it? Thank goodness friends of mine like Emeka at Carleton are setting up awareness organizations. We need people like them more than ever.

I'm the Sheik of Araby... (put your turban on!)

.thgrl dd knht tb hgt ttrp sw t .ydt mx cbr nttrW m trw
n nttrw s tprcs ht scb rtsm t ggnl tlcffd rv s cbr tnrffd
.stnnsnc ln slwv n hs dn tfl t thr mrf dr s ,ggnl

Translation:
I wrote my Written Arabic exam today. It was pretty tough, but I think I did alright. Arabic is a very difficult language to master because the script is written in a different language, is read from right to left and has no vowels, only consonants.

Crunch Time

So I'm in the thick of exams. Tomorrow morning (7:30, to be exact) is Written Arabic, which, despite being a first year course, is going to be tougher than all of my level 400 classes put together! The whole university is pretty tense these days, since exams routinely count for 100% of a course's grade. Sleep schedules are erratic, Ghanaians are becoming hermetic, while the Americans are apathetic. (Heck, revision week is as good an excuse as any to backpack to Mali!)

In the Hostel, the study rooms are always filled and I can't even study in the kitchen these days, because people are at the table. My room is also becoming a hotspot of academic activity, for the first time this semester. I have to study on the balcony to have privacy, which I feel a lot more at peace at, compared to the room itself. Watching planes take off and land at the airport is one of my favourite activities here.


Thought of the day: My roommate Patrick recently acted in a commercial for Areeba cell phones (the major provider in Ghana) that is apparently on TV all the time. So how come he is out of units on his phone and why does he keep borrowing MY cell to make calls?

Those Spoiled Americans...

(Note: I've updated some posts retroactively, so check the last two weeks for new ones)

Damn Yankees! First they get these neat programs where they have directors in Ghana and get oriented by them, have their administrative work done for them (upcoming post: The Ghana Immigration Office - Hell on Earth?) and enjoy their high dollar and fellow American roommates.

Now they've found another way to one-up us Canadians... despite the fact that almost every one of them is only staying for one semester, it seems like all of their parents are coming to Ghana to visit them!

What gives? They're only gone for about four months, they live the easy life and party all the time, but somehow mommy and daddy just HAVE to come and see them, put them up in fancy hotels while they're here and make sure they're all tucked in at night, so the boogeyman Kwame Nkrumah won't get them (Geoff will get that one, I know it). To put this into perspective, the Carleton group (plus Mel and Esther from Brock) is here for the entire school year and our parents laugh at the idea of coming to Africa. Heck, I have to meet my girlfriend halfway just to see her! (Note: I love you very much and am very glad to be able to spend Christmas with you.)

Anyways, I don't have an ideological bent against the Americans or the fact that they're getting to share their awesome experiences with their family, but seriously - where's the cosmic justice in it?

Happy Three Years, Maleaha!

Well, it's an odd place to celebrate, but my love and I are having a little webcam "date" from the swanky internet cafe on campus (it's twice the price, but 10 times as fast). The occassion? We've been together for three whole years. And they've been the best three years of my life, most definitely.

For all of you prospective travellers out there in a committed relationship, I can't say that I'd recommend going away for nine months if you've got someone special that needs you. Lisa, Meghan and I have all had to leave very significant others back home and we've been trying to keep in as close contact with them as possible. E-mails, internet chatting, letters, postcards, phonecalls... whatever it takes! At times, it's been very difficult and stressful for all of us. The space between can make you feel different, distant and helpless to whatever's happening. Sometimes it feels like too much...

Thankfully, we've all got plans to meet up with them sometime during the semester. Meghan's partner Garrett may be coming during Reading Week, Lisa's husband Peter is coming for three weeks and I'll be meeting Maleaha halfway for our England/Ireland adventure. (Ah compromise, the sign of a healthy relationship!)

Well, here's to you, Maleaha! I hope the fourth year anniversary will be better than the third!


"And though the world may fall apart
You've got my soul, I've got your heart."
-The Dears

Kumasi and Obuasi: labyrinths above and below ground

As November rolls along and the exam season approacheth, the students are getting into study mode (or something vaguely resembling it). So why not have one last kick at the can, travel-wise? Hannah was going out to Kumasi and I said what the hell.

I must admit, I was never keen on Kumasi. From what I read, it was busy, dull and all full of itself due to its claim to fame as the home of the Ashanti people and their once-great empire. I was quite surprised with what was in store for the weekend...

We arrived downtown in early afternoon on Saturday and I instantly liked the vibe that the city gave off. It seemed to remind me of so many places: the city was relaxed, and the buildings had a sort of colonial-vibe, maybe like a city in Cuba; there were many small shops and stands, covered in old-style painted ads, perhaps like Spadina Avenue in Toronto; the downtown was filled with narrow, winding streets going up-and-downhill, like an old Italian village that had outgrown itself, but still kept its natural shape throughout the years… oh, and there were open sewers, so it smelled like Accra. Regardless, it's a great city to walk around and get lost in. If I were writing a novel, I'd probably book a loft apartment and write from my balcony whilst drinking lots of brandy. Just call me Hemingway.

There was plenty of life to be found that afternoon in Kejetia Market. Home to over 10,000 vendors, it's believed to be the largest open-air market in West Africa. To be honest, I can't imagine a market being any bigger! We walked down railway tracks through the main areas and ducked into the labyrinth of shops inside… it really has to be seen to be believed. I have no idea how people find their own shops inside, let alone haul their goods and raw materials: vegetables, smelly meat, candy, old clothes, textiles, rubber for making shoes… they had just about everything a Ghanaian could want! We went back Monday morning and it was even more hectic and difficult to get around. When I see hundreds of people selling the exact same thing, I imagine a Wal-Mart being built next to it and EVERYBODY going out of business. (knock on wood)

If souvenirs and knick-knacks are your thing, the National Cultural Centre has a line of shops selling carvings, paintings, kente cloth, drums, brass figurines and other Western-oriented consumer goods – all at highly-inflated prices. We didn't get much. We also met a local self-taught juju man (witch doctor) who sold Hannah a tea mix that cures every ailment under the sun. It also may both inhibit and improve chances of conception – we're not sure which one. On a darker note, he said that he also has cures for AIDS, which is definitely not something that I'd promote.

The best part of the NCC was the Prempeh II Jubilee Museum, which has a small but fantastic collection of artefacts from the Ashanti Empire, which once ruled an area larger than Ghana itself and fought the British for a long time before being conquered. No photos were allowed, but Yaa, our tour guide, really did her homework and answered all of my questions. It's a must-see.

Compared to Accra, Kumasi is pretty dull at night, especially on Sundays. We stayed at the decent Presbyterian Guest House and met a bunch of British medical students studying here for a few weeks and they brought us out on Saturday night for some dinner and drunken karaoke at a half-empty bar. It was no Champs, but we still got in some Motown, Beatles and Celine Dion.

Sunday was pretty relaxed, since everything is closed. However, Asante Kotoko, Ghana's best football team, won the final match of the season and also the league championship, so in the evening, the streets were filled with red-and-white clad fans. A female fan at the guesthouse told me that Accra's fans are notoriously vicious and that a few years ago there were deadly riots. Thank goodness that I live in a country where we have more than one sport…

The lady was actually from Canada and worked with CUSO, the development agency that Maleaha has been doing her placement with this year. I had a thousand and one questions for her that I wish I could have asked…


Finally, we went about 1 ½ hours South to Obuasi, where Anglo-Gold Ashanti operates a giant mining operation. You can get a tour for about $10US, but if you don't have your own car, it's a little more, as it was for us. The guides took us down 1,600m (or feet, depending on who you asked) in a tiny elevator called "the cage" to where the miners are trained and they showed us the basic process of shaft mining. We got to wear attractive blue coats, helmets and headlamps, but we weren't allowed to mine any of the gold that was in the mine walls. The tour was expensive, but totally worth the price of admission... the best part is when they take you into the dark areas – but I won't spoil it for you. We hiked up a few hundred metres to an opening below the surface where trucks can pass through and got metal-detected by the guard, to make sure we didn't steal any of his precious, precious gold.

A word of advice: if you go there early on in the day, you'll get to see workers being trained and lots more activity than near the end of the shift, when we went. Also, when we went to the tro-tro station around 5:30, the last one to Accra had already left. So we had to go back through Kumasi, which was a long and terrible journey. But we won't talk about that.

Anyways, Kumasi itself was great (if not a bit expensive) and we'll be back next semester most definitely. In fact, if we were given the choice of studying in Accra or Kumasi, I'd be tempted to choose the latter and I know my friends would be too. Not a bad way of ending the semester.


PS - Eat at Vic Baboo's. It's freakin' fantastic.

A New Hope For Liberia?

This just in...

Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf has just been elected as President of Liberia. This makes her the first female president in African History! While I don't know how the country will react to the news, or if she will effectively govern the war-torn country (which is just getting out of 15 years of brutal military rule), I believe that this is good news for the country. Especially considering her opponent was 39-year old George Weah who, while perhaps being Africa's greatest footballer, never finished high school and probably has no idea of how to run a country.

When I think of the people I met at the Liberian refugee camp who have been waiting their whole lives for peace and prosperity in their home country, I am hopeful that they will be able to return to their homes and continue their past lives, or start over altogether. What will the future hold for Liberia? I guess we'll just have to wait and see...

Communication Difficulties.

Criminy... does anything work here anymore? It would appear not. The internet connection has been rather sporadic for the last few days and so has the electricity supply on campus, so I have spent a lot of time without even the simple luxury of my ceiling fan! I've had some excellent incidents in the last week, but no chance to share them. There's Rastafari and Muslim celebrations, birthday parties and some exciting news for the future - and they will all come in time, but you'll have to wait for a bit... I'll toss you one I saved up about food. Enjoy!

Islamic Party (AKA My friend Abbas)

Happy Eid al-Fitr! Yesterday was the Muslim festival that ends the month-long fasting of Ramadan, in which the faithful abstain from eating, smoking, having sex - basically anything that would be considered fun - between sunrise and sunset.

This was especially visible here in Accra. A large number of Ghanaians practice Islam (especially in the North, in which about half the population is Muslim), so much so that it is a public holiday in Ghana. Not bad considering yesterday was Coronation, so two parties from two religions in two days!

The day begins with morning prayers at the mosque and later with celebration, although most Muslims are too tired and hungry to party by then. Joe and Amanda dressed up in full garb (including hijab) and went to mosque to meet up with a friend.

As you may or may not recall, I'm currently taking elementary Arabic. A considerable number of classmates are Muslims and so is our TA/prof, Abass. He invited the entire class to his house to celebrate Eid with his family in the afternoon.

Funny enough, the only two students who took him up on his offer were myself and Britney - the only two international students! Boy will the other students be sorry about that, because we had the best cultural experience so far here in Ghana that day.

We took a tro-tro to Ashaiman, which is North of Tema, the industrial and processing centre of Ghana, right next to Accra. We were picked up at the station by his brother, who was known as "Chief", since he happened to be the chief of Zongo, a district of about 9,000 people.

Zongo, more accurately, is a slum. The housing is basic, the roads are terrible and the sewage is pretty hard to ignore. There aren't any real social or public services (most of their money goes to Tema, so they give more to the city than they receive), save for what comes through Muslim charities from the Middle East, so life in general isn't too peachy.

Despite this, Chief told me that Ashaiman is like a United Nations, because people from all over Africa live there. It's a main transit route and he believes that there are about 500,000 people there - twice the official estimates.

Abass' compound (he lives with his brothers, their wives and their children) was quite modest. Despite his being a lecturer and his brother being a chief, there's not much money around, yet we were treated so graciously by his family! The ladies attended to us and asked about school, life in North America, how women act and dress back home. Then Abbas and Chief took us for a tour of the area. We met many important people in the town and ended up sitting in on a feast/political meeting of the opposition party (boy were we suprised). We met the key party workers and even their Member of Parliament.

However, the best moment was when we visited the Imam of Ashaiman (its spiritual leader, the Muslim equivalent of a bishop). He invited us into his home, gave us his blessings said a special prayer for us. While I'm no Muslim, I certainly felt very privileged to be part of such a solemn moment.

As the sun went down, we returned to Abass' house, where we were fed very well again. We said our goodbyes and were given a ride back to Accra. We vowed to come back again before Britney leaves in December and the women agreed to tattoo some traditional Muslim henna patterns on her hands and feet. How is that for Muslim hospitality?

That's all for now. Ma'a salaam!

The Rastafari Movement (AKA My Friend Cha Cha)

While Southern Ghana appears to be more or less an Evangelical Christian monoculture, with tribal affiliation and social structure on the wane, there are a few subcultures that are becoming highly visible. A prime example of this is the Rastafari movement (don't call it Rastafarianism... because "-isms" create schisms!).

I'm told that in recent times, it has become a new home for Rastafarians and their culture. Considering the amount of reggae one hears on the radio, I'm not suprised. Even Bob Marley's widow, Rita, recently built a state-of-the-art studio in Aburi, north of Accra (Note to self: record next album in Rita Marley's studio).

Wednesday marked the 70th anniversary of the Coronation of Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia - the Lion of Judah himself. So there was a big party at Akuma Village, near the beach in Western Accra, with live reggae bands, vegetarian food and the whole nine yards.

We met up with our new friend Cha Cha, who is one of the inhabitants of XOFA village. His band was supposed to play that night, but it fell through for some reason. Anyways, Cha Cha is a great guy who is all about peace, love, understanding and all that other idealistic hippie crap. And he knows the difference between a Rasta who is true to himself and the fake pot-smoker wannabes. He even said that he couldn't wait to get back to XOFA in Volta Region, because he just couldn't take the city life. In a country where rural-urban migration is a huge problem, here is a guy who knows the score!

Anyways, we danced for a while to the music and then suddenly a fuse blew and the power went out. Soon, a drum beat started up and there were voices singing in the darkness, truly a sight to behold. The spirit of Ras Tafari lives on! Happy Coronation Day, kids.

Ex-Pat Food

So I discussed at length what the average Ghanaian eats, but man cannot live on fufu alone and neither can we ex-pats. If we did, we’d probably get pretty squirrelly and go nuts. So here’s an idea of what we eat when we’re feeling homesick.

Assase Pa
Most of us Canadians here are vegetarians or (gasp!) vegans, so the fish-based Ghanaian cuisine doesn’t really gel with them. Besides, even if you ask a local cook if her food has meat in it, she’ll say no, just to please you. So we go (at least weekly, it seems) to this happening place on Ring Road near Circle that’s run by business-wise Rastafarians called Assase Pa. They’ve got it all: salads of every type, veggie burgers with yam balls, tofu kebabs and the most delicious soy ice cream you’ve ever tried. I personally recommend the “sogo slicks”, which are like having ribs without the guilt. The price is right and there’s a bar next door if you want to wash down your health-conscious meals with some liver-unconscious beer.

Pizza Inn
Near the main entrance of the campus is a Mobil station (run by Exxon-Mobil, the same climate change-deniers that brought you Esso) with associate restaurants, the most notable being Pizza Inn, which makes decent pizzas there if you ever get a hankering for one. “2 for 1 Terrific Tuesday” has quickly become an institution among the Canadian and American students here and we rarely miss the opportunity to get a large pizza for about $3.50 each.

Haveli’s
Tucked away from the main drag in Osu is an authentic Indian restaurant with great food and vibe. It’s a little on the pricier side, but it’s well worth it and pretty much everything on the menu is fantastic, except for the green stuff that gave Meghan food poisoning and made her go insane. But we still go there without her anyways.

Tip-Top
My favourite Chinese food restaurant is also in Osu, but it also has a great vibe and the prices are decent. For you Markhamites, this is the closest thing to Tangerine that I have (but no mango chicken!).

Champs
When you need nachos, beer, televised sports AND karaoke, you come on here, pilgrim.

Ryan's Irish Pub
While I haven't actually been here yet, apparently it looks just like an authentic Irish Pub. I've already booked my seat for St. Patty's Day.

Koala / Max Mart
If you want a homemade Western meal, you can always do as Jesus commanded and make it your damned self! Go to one of these fancy supermarkets (see: “Oasis in My Desert”) and get yourself some veggies, meat, overpriced breakfast cereals, freshly-made breads and pastries and whatever else you can think of. Hummus and pita are always a winning team.

There are many places in Accra to eat at (always check the Bradt guide) and many unexpected opportunities to get odd stuff like gummi bears or BBQ burgers (hello, Canadian High Commission!), but here's an idea of what we ex-pats go for when we get a hankerin' for some good eats.

"Hello Obruni, where you from?"

While our tro-tro was being stopped by police officers at a checkpoint merely because us white people were on it, being asked for ID and getting hassled for carrying our U of Ghana cards but not our passports (Why the hell would we? We just went to Volta Region, jackass), we realized that for some people, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Since 99% of the Ghanaian population is black, you get quickly targeted as a minority (see “White Like Me”) no matter where you’re from.

Case in point: A man I know of is Ghanaian, born and raised. However, his family is from Lebanon, so despite the fact that he holds valid Ghanaian citizenship by nature of his birth and despite the fact that his family probably owns half of Osu (Koala Market and Frankie's Bakery and Hotel are owned by a Lebanese family), as long as he stays in Ghana he will be targeted as 1) a tourist and 2) someone with money that can be extracted from him.

I’ve already been mistaken for both of those people, but the difference is that in mid-May I’ll return to Canada, where I blend in, while he lives his life here, always seen as an outsider. Adrienne’s roommate Nini, a great person who is studying to become a doctor, probably also feels it as a Ghanaian of Chinese descent.

I'm starting to understand on a very limited scale what people must feel like as visible minorities. I may be part of a privileged minority, but what about those who are always seen as foreigners and are constantly questioned as to where they're from? Whenever I see someone who doesn't look "Ghanaian", I subconsciously assume that they must be from somewhere else. Even in Canada, we see someone of perhaps Indian or Chinese descent and wonder how long they've been there, while we assume that whites have been around forever (my family actually has). I suppose that even in a "civilized" multicultural society, we are still so quick to judge others. We just don't ask for their money while we're at it.

Budaburam Visit

While in Winneba, I met a young woman from the Netherlands named Lian who was volunteering for three months at the Budaburam Liberian Refugee Camp outside of Accra and was invited for a tour. “The more the merrier”, she said. So I brought six. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to pass by a refugee camp, if you don’t know what you’re looking for. My cab did on the way there, but we doubled-back and found it.

For a little insight, the camp was built by the United Nations in 1990 in reaction to the flood of refugees exiting the West African country of Liberia as civil strife set in. Under the oppressive regime of Charles Taylor, the country suffered and people kept coming to the camp and returned, although everyone I spoke to still wants to. If you show a child in the camp a map of Africa and ask where they live, they won’t point to Ghana, they’ll point to Liberia.

In the last 15 years, the size of the camp has increased to over 40,000 people. Unlike the camps seen on television in Darfur, this is more like a Palestinian camp, because when a refugee camp is built and not destroyed, it evolves. The camp was filled with small shops, restaurants and businesses selling everything that one would need. Many people live in concrete houses and their children go to decent schools run by the United Nations and other charities. There is even a fully-operational clinic. It’s basically a small town.

The people there were welcoming and friendly, especially the children. They also wanted us to spread the word about their situation. One man who helped me around named Frank, told me his story of how he came in 1996 at the age of 11, separated from his parents, with whom he has not seen since. In the time that he’s been here, he has graduated from high school and now works as a volunteer with the Welfare Council. I’m still amazed that people who have gone through so much can be so optimistic and warm.

Currently, there is a presidential election vote happening in Liberia, a historical one for a people who have suffered for so long. The main candidate is George Weah, a high school dropout who became one of Europe's greatest footballers, so I don’t know if there’s much hope for Liberia in the immediate future, but it will be a long march to democracy and perhaps this will be the first step.