Friday 7th August 2009

Kokrobitey Institute

Home time. That is how I think of today as this course has been so school-oriented. Today is all about 'make sure your desks are tidy, have you got all your bits and pieces? get home safely boys and girls!'

The Americans - who teach all over that country and not just one city like the Liverpool teachers or the Accra teachers - are leaving earliest and so our goodbyes are said at the obscene time of 6am. A sign of modern telecommunications is heard in the way they exchange details: some are swapping email addresses, others mobile numbers while some are promising to add people on Facebook. I even heard a comment about Twitter.

I exchange details with some people and hope the promises we make to keep in touch are not just empty ones. As a teen, I would fall in love with some girl every summer holiday when we travelled - regardless of destination; France, Scotland, Jamaica, New York… I would promise to write and call but would you believe it, I can't even remember the names of any of these 'loves' now and I'm only just in my early twenties! Being an eternal optimist however, I like to think some of the teachers will become lifelong friends after sharing a week in Ghana learning about slavery and modern legacies; after sharing meals and rooms; after having conversations about life, love, children, marriage, music, teaching, money, Obama, intelligence, Bush, ignorance - and so on. Time will tell.

We're not certain if we will all meet again in this way. There have been discussions about doing this all over again next year, possibly in the US, to learn about life on slavery plantations. And then, the year after, possibly the UK, to learn about the financial aspects of the slave trade, why little ole Britain became the leading dealer in enslaved Africans. However, as I type, nothing has been confirmed.

The Americans depart, along with approximately 73 per cent of the tourist goods in the whole of Ghana. I've never seen people shop like Americans! Watching Yanks in a tourist trap market is like watching a skinny snake swallow a fat egg. You don't think it can - but when it does - you think to yourself, 'damn - it's all gone!'

Accra International Airport

My flight to London was hours after everyone else's. Even though Johnson had woken up around 5.30am and had a busy day packing and leaving Kokrobitey Institute - he stayed with me till it was nearly 10.15pm and time for me to board my plane. These are the kinds of country details you don't read about on Wikipedia - how friendly people can be, how they will take care of you and help you out. I was chuffed and will definitely make sure I keep in touch with Johnson, whose tireless help and honesty allowed me (and others I hope) learn so much about Ghana.

Despite KNOWING you're not supposed to carry more than 100 millilitres of liquid onto a plane, I tried to sneak a 500ml bottle onto my flight from Accra to Libya.

"You got TOO MUCH liquid in your bag!" the hefty Ghanaian security woman bellowed at me after peering at the x-ray machine.

"Have I? Oh yeah, um …" I answered, coyly.

"Take it out." I did so and the security lady looked at it curiously - it was a water bottle that I had refilled with apple juice so the bottle contents would not have been immediately recognisable.

"What is that?" she asked, brusquely.

"Apple ju - "

" - DRINK IT!" I complied, thinking, if it WAS an explosive liquid, this lady would be a sure deterrent to would-be terrorists!

Libya International Airport

I recall a conversation at school (among teachers, I might add) which pretty much went along the lines of 'bathroom door - open or closed?' Some colleagues were horrified at the mere notion of leaving the bathroom door open, others were not. I'm not horrified at the idea of the door being open but always close our bathroom door at home, regardless of what I am doing, bathing, showering or potty, poo poo weeing. I did have to wonder why, in an International Airport, the men's toilet door was propped WIDE open though. There were no urinals in this toilet but is there any need for the waiting passengers to be treated to the sounds and odours of people using the cubicles?

Part of my mind hollers 'DON'T JUDGE' when confronted with a country's societal mores, values, standards, methods, systems, techniques that I may not used to; just because we each go about our lives in different ways, it does not mean one way is better than the other…' The OTHER part of my mind though - now that is close-minded, judgemental and says it like it is. It was THAT part of my mind that screeched 'what the heck?' (I may have even said it aloud) on discovering there was no toilet paper in the cubicle. Not just, no toilet paper, as if it has run out but no toilet paper as in, no toilet paper holder, no toilet paper has EVER been here in this, the smallest room in a large international airport. I looked around and saw, beside the toilet bowl, the hose I realised one is supposed to use to wash one's arse after using the toilet. I recalled it should be the left hand.

Whatever.

I also recalled the mini-packet of Kleenex Aloe Vera Infused Facial Tissues I had in my bag!

D