Exchange Rate

Just as I gave up things to come to Ghana, I find myself cataloguing the things I'm giving up in leaving it. I traded subculture for tribal culture; now I pass from not being allowed to show my thighs to having to shave my legs. I'm exchanging good white wine and a night life for bathing under the Milky Way. Sincere greetings from strangers for impersonal pedestrian safety; the sweeps of the Gambaga escarpment for the peaks of the Detroit skyline. The artisan community of Bolgatanga for the artist community of Toronto. Friends, family, familiarity and adventure, for friends, family, familiarity and history. Language barriers with common interest, for interest barriers with common language. Public transit that will wait for you, for public transit that arrives on time. Being "the white person" for being no one special, which is much more appetizing than it seems (I guarantee every EWB volunteer in Ghana has had a moment where they wanted to do terrible things to the next guy who reminded them they're a “Suliminga”).

But as I leave West Africa, I'm forced to take stock of the things I'm bringing home—obviously apart from Ghanaian outfits, Dagomba hats, and shea butter soap. I've taken enough pictures to drown my little ThinkPad laptop—they should be enough to give people a feel of what it was like, and just might be enough to help explain the things I've seen. I've taken recipes for food made with peanuts and fish, and the skill to eat it with only my right hand. I've taken an upper-leg strength and tone that can only come from perfecting the daily squat, and a right shoulder thinned but strong from carrying everything I need on it. I'm bringing a rear end bonier than usual from malarial weight loss and too many rocky jaunts on motorbikes. I'm bringing less-widened eyes, an understanding, a million questions. I'm bringing stories. I'm bringing hope.

And I'm bringing enthusiasm to convey my experiences, to use these four months in Ghana as the lever that moves the people of Africa closer to North American life. I haven't decided when to close this blog, because despite leaving Ghana, my placement is definitely not over. I have 8 months of explanation, sharing and storytelling to do—and thats apart from my almost inevitable battle with reverse-culture shock, as I come back into a world that is supposed to be familiar, but is so, so different than what I thought it was...

I've been told the most difficult part of this adventure is not leaving, is not the entry into a new culture. It's fitting yourself back into the one you left.

I'll keep you posted.