My short lived internship and an unfortunate International Women’s Day.
I had already started writing this down in the tro-tro ride back from the perfect day. Last Thursday was my first day at BASICS International where I had set up an internship working with young girls at risk for pregnancy and also in an after school program teaching the basics of gardening. I couldn’t think of anything more perfect. BASICS runs an handful of programs aimed to help Chorkor, one of the most impoverished towns in Accra. Chorkor is a fishing village, many make a living this way. Without the means to support their children, parents expect young girls to be fully independent by the time they are 13 years old. The girls do this by becoming mother’s themselves, dropping out of school and even marrying. BASICS set up Nana’s Home to give the girls a safe place to stay in school, take care of their children, and involve parents in their progress. I have to be honest, I chose Nana’s Home because of the fact that I miss my own Nana’s home. It was a homesick day for me, but it turned outt o be a great choice. My first attempt to get there was botched, I spent the weekend in the hospital. My second try went swimmingly. I took the two hour tro-tro ride to Chorkor and they dropped my off at the beach. It’s such a stark contrast when you first see Chorkor. The beauty of the seaside and white washed walls along the sand. Then the impoverished town right beside it. I was lost for a bit, but a gaggle of school kids led me to Nana’s Home, they we’re on their way there after school. I met the staff and the volunteers from around the world. I spent the day working in the after-school program, running a story telling group and then helping the kiddos with their french lessons. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. They told the most hilarious stories. One girl told of a man who hated his mother-in-laws cooking, so she filled his top hat with beans one day before he left the house. They were overall just so impressive. I left there knowing I had found a great thing, despite the long daily travel. I snagged a tro-tro and attempted to write on the bumpy streets.
I write more here than I ever have, and almost none of it makes it onto my blog. I didn’t choose to blog. I was told I had too and I’m grateful for it. I tend to be a very private person when it comes to writing. I keep them saved in a inconspicuous folder on my computer, you know, just for me. The reason being that I am not a fan of drama. And the idea of others being able to come into that makes me a bit nauseous. I realize that keeping my experiences here to myself is far too selfish, my friends and family would never forgive me. But when you are in place like, Africa, things happen. Things so far out of your control that all you can do is take it as it is, as it comes. There is a lot that doesn’t make it onto here or onto my other blog. Why? Because there are some things you should just not tell your mother. Waiting a few years to tell her about that time you snuck out of the house or got into that car accident is probably a good decision. Waiting until you are back from Africa is also a perfect time. But in this case, I write this because I hafta. Because it’s been on my mind, because its changed my time here.
It was later in the day when I left Nana’s Home, dusk is around 6pm here. By the time I arrived at one of the main stations, Circle Station, to get my connection back to the University it was already 9pm. I would find out later that being at Circle at night isn’t a great idea. Circle is not only a place for travel but also for hawkers and vendors, pickpockets and hustlers alike. It is a giant roundabout that is surronded on each corner by open dirt parking lots. I walked to the parking lot I would usually pick up the tro for Legon, but they had stopped running because of the time of night. I asked a man not too far from the empty lot space for directions. He told me to follow him to the otherside of the parking lot. So, I know what you are thinking. Don’t go? I know, I know, but I made a few silly mistakes this night. He led me to a group of people who looked like any normal group of people waiting fro the next tro-tro. They all just happened to be men. Before I asked them for directions I realized they were all looking just behind me. I turned to find a middle-aged man arm deep into my backpack. My reaction was to grab his arm and pull. Don’t ask me why, I didn’t want to be robbed. Must have been an open invitation for him to grab me by the neck one moment, and then a facefull of gravel the next moment. My pack fell to the ground and I got up to reach for it. I was pushed down again by another man and this happened for a minute or two. The longest minute of my life.They emptied my pack and got away with my phone, Ipod, and money- material things. They left my pack, my paperwork, and a coloring from one of the kids. Most of them had run off and the rest walked away as I got up to pick up my things.I half-sprinted to the road side where I met Theo. I must have been crying, or looked like I needed a buddy. Theo asked if I was alright, and he told me he was traveling back home from the North, because his father had died that day. He looked pretty upset too. I told him what happened, that I had no way of getting back and he kindly paid for my taxi to the hostel. He took the cab driver’s number an called him twice on the way to make sure I would arrive safely. I did, and I feel lucky that I did.
There is so much to say. It could have been worse, they only took material things, I should have been more aware, I should have yelled louder, I should have, what if, if only. But it happened, and I take it as the world’s way of warning me, so that nothing truly bad happens here. As angry and disheartened as I was, and still am, I realize that in that short ten minutes I was able to see the best and worst of Ghana. I do not believe those men had any intention of hurting me. My fight, instead of flight, must have spooked them. I’m saddened by the fact that my naive trust and blissful ingonorance has been in some small way been tainted, but its for the better. By far the thing I am most dissapointed, no, furious by is the fact that I no longer travel at night by myself. Needless to say this means I have had to quit my internship. Such a short lived, wonderful experience. Too much has already been said about this whole thing, and its not worth my breath. .. It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back- so shake it off.
