The Great Shoe Crisis

The Great Shoe Crisis 9/18/2016

    
    Yes, there are many people in the world that are in desperate NEED of shoes. However, I don't feel that it is always the crisis that we perceive it as. 

    I admit, before I saw the light and hopped on the minimalist bandwagon, I couldn't even tell you how many shoes I owned. I am too ashamed to even estimate the number of shoes I had. Or, how about the number of shoes that I bought and only wore once? Yikes, I wasn't even into designer shoes, imagine if I was?! Anyway, I currently have 4 pairs of shoes and I couldn't be happier. 

     I must say, one of the things that I find most striking in Accra is how people dress, even if it's a quick trip to the market. It's the opposite of a quick trip to Walmart back home, where people wear jammies, throw on a pair of slippers and shuffle out the door with bed head. In Accra, people will wear a pressed dress shirt, slacks and dress shoes, even in the heat of the day. The women wear handmade dresses with the most vibrant prints you ever did see. Everyone looks fresh to death ALL the time.

     In the rural villages people still dress in fine clothing. Many of them are laborers so they may dress a bit more casual, but everyone is always presentable. So here is my shoe story. I used to feel bad for all of the children that ran around barefoot in the rural villages, I felt for some of the adults who were shoe-less as well. I felt bad until I climbed the highest mountain in Ghana. I had my fancy Keen hiking shoes on and I carried a Camelbak filled with water and snacks. I arrived at the top in awe of the spectacular pantomimic view before me. I had just hiked the highest mountain in the entire country! I was on top of the world! I didn't mind being completely winded, or the sweat that was stinging my eyes, or the fact that I smelled like the ape exhibit at Brookfield zoo. I was marinading in my sense of accomplishment. This is when I heard a sound behind me. I turned around to find 3 small boys that had just reached the summit of Afadjato mountain....the highest mountain in Ghana. They were not dripping in sweat, they were not carrying any water and they weren't wearing shoes! And, they came up the backside of the mountain that was way more steep and rugged! They also didn't seem to share my sense of accomplishment, they were hanging out like they had just meandered to the corner store for a soda!
     I have another shoe story. On campus, we have a private elementary school. One morning I was walking across campus to class. The elementary school students were on the track and they were practicing track and field events. I saw these kids effortlessly bounding over hurtles, sprinting and practicing the long jump. I stopped to admire their speed, agility and grace. Can you guess what I noticed? Half the kids weren't wearing shoes! It didn't seem to slow them down a bit. As a matter of fact, it was the kids without shoes that were performing the best! Ha, my mind wandered to a track at an American elementary school, I can only imaging the fancy, brand new shoes that those kids would be wearing and I could also picture them struggling to get their lazy butts over these hurtles. 
     I appreciate that there is a need to have shoes in certain circumstances, I wish the men on the construction crews here would all wear shoes. But if you look at the trend in our fancy American shoes, many people are opting for the minimalist style and there is also a movement to go barefoot as much as possible for the health of your feet. I almost feel like the hiking kids I saw and the elementary school students prefer being barefoot. Shoot, my favorite thing to do at the end of a long day is to kick off my shoes!    

Signed, Sealed, Delivered....Not Yours 9/11/2016

     


    This was better than Christmas morning! I was notified that I had not one, but two packages from home waiting for me at the post office. I couldn't have cared less about what was inside these packages. I was just excited to open them and feel the love that had traveled across the lonesome ocean to find it's way to me.

    If I had received a package back home, I would have hopped in my Jeep, flipped the top back, blasted my music, rested my arm out the open window with my hair blowing wildly in the wind, as I drove 10 glorious minutes down Historic Route 66 to fetch my packages.

     I need to stop thinking these thoughts. Here is the reality of my new situation and my guide on how to pick up a package from the post office in Ghana. First, you need to find a tro tro that is headed towards Circle. When you safely arrive at Circle you exit the tro tro and turn your backpack around and carry it across your chest. Pick pocketing is a cherished past-time in this part of town. Now you need to get directions to the post office, GPS isn't a thing here and neither are addresses.

     This is the fun part. People give directions here like you are going on a treasure hunt. You start by aimlessly walking around until someone grabs you by the arm and says, "Where are you going?!" For this to happen, it usually takes about 30 seconds, maybe a full 60 on a slow day. When the locals see an Obruni walking around they assume you are lost and they are usually right. So this is the part where I tell him I am looking for the post office. He turns me around and points up the road and says, "tracks." I'm so excited, my first clue! "Tracks," could be a street name, a restaurant, a sign, or actual tracks. You won't know until you find it, but you'll know it when you see it. And I'm off....

     Nice! I come to a set of train tracks that doubles as a motorcycle roadway. Here I approach the man standing beside the tracks. In Ghana you cannot walk up to anyone and just ask for what you need. It has to go like this, "Hello, how are you? Please, I am looking for the post office?" Now this guy points down the tracks and says, "Tasty." Another clue!!!! I thank him, he blesses me and I continue on my way.

     I follow the tracks, and the rules of the road. Pedestrians never have the right of way, so I am constantly dodging the motorcycles that are flying by on the train tracks. Oh, oh! I see it, Tasty is a food stand. I stop in, and ask for directions. My day just got a little better, they are selling cold water! When is the last time I had cold water? I couldn't remember. Mmmm,cold water spilling down my throat. A little piece of heaven on my urban safari. So the "Tasty" lady directs me to Vodafone, this is their Verizon.
     I find Vodafone just up the road. Vodafone is not the next clue, of course Vodafone is also the post office. Makes perfect sense in Ghana, where else would you expect to find a post office? I made it, that wasn't so bad....I stand in a long line. The room is so stuffy, I can feel the beads of sweat trickling down my back. Once I get to the front of the line, I am instructed to go upstairs and and make a photo copy of my ID. OK, no problem. Photo copies in hand I make my way back down the stairs. Back in line, oh boy, I can hardly wait. I hand over my package notification slip and am directed to another line to pick up my packages. This is my favorite part....
     So, I was informed that I would have to pay a "small tax" to collect my packages. I am happy to pay a small fee for some love from back home. This customs guard hands me package number 1. I have to open it in front of her so she can ensure that I am not smuggling in any goods from overseas. Let me take a moment to tell you how much I love my parents, and I can only imagine what they think my living conditions are like here. Now pay attention to this part, feel free to estimate the value of the contents with me.... A handful of Ziploc bags, travel packets of tissue, glow sticks, hand sanitizer, some travel snack packs, a hair clip and a cute sundress. So after examining the contents the woman calculates the estimated value of my box and the "small tax" I will need to pay.
     Things like this are a little less than official. She scribbles a few notes on the paper and tells me that one of my two packages will cost 97 Ghana cedis. This is when "Chicago Jenny" made her appearance. I said, "What????!!!!" Perhaps I raised my voice. "Small tax", right? For 97 cedis I can go out to a gourmet dinner, have a fancy cocktail and take public transportation to and from. This was not a "small tax" and this was only one of two packages and I would never pay that much for Ziploc bags! So I push the box back to the woman across the counter and I tell her that I know it's free to send it back. Send it back and I'll get my Ziploc bags when I'm back stateside. This is when I got in trouble. I was reprimanded like a child for disrespecting a governmental official and for raising my voice. She then peered at me over the top of her glasses and told me I was being disrespectful, she was just doing her job and what I should have said was, "can we bargain?" Ha, what was I thinking, of course, that should have been my first thought... bargaining with the governmental official at customs. Silly me!
     I took a deep breath, apologized for raising my voice, I pasted a very insincere smile across my face and asked her what kind of deal she could give me for both of my packages. I was able to get her down to 70 cedis for the two. I walked out of their feeling like I had still gotten totally ripped off, but hey, at least I have Ziploc bags full of love. 
    The best part was when I returned about 6 weeks later for yet another package, this time I brought my patience, my smile and only brought 30 cedi with me, I wasn't gonna get taken again. So I walk in, head held high, ready to bargain with more government employees. I hear a voice beside me say, "it's you again." And there she is peering at me over her glasses.  
    

Honeymoon to Hostile

Honeymoon to Hostile 9/4/2016

     In the beginning, my semester abroad felt a lot like vacation. Everything was so new and so exciting: the people, the food, the music and the adventures. Nothing felt uncomfortable, I was happy to ditch my old routine, my list of things to do and I enjoyed stepping out of my comfort zone. I was on my own little honeymoon and I was laughing at all of the silly, adorable idiosyncrasies of my new culture. Right around 3 weeks my honeymoon stage abruptly ended and I entered the hostile stage.

     I found myself craving a meal that I could devour without having to worry about crunching on a bone or an eyeball, I wanted food that I recognized, I wanted food that I could cook in MY kitchen. I began to miss MY bed. I missed hot water and lingering in the shower. I missed regular bowel movements. I missed driving, I missed going where I wanted, whenever I wanted. I missed working out in MY gym!!!!!! I didn't necessarily feel "homesick," I felt "comfortsick." Everything and anything that was routine or comforting in my life back home didn't exist here. 
     My basic needs, such as; eating, sleeping, working out, hygiene and sense of social connection had all been completely disrupted. I found myself feeling very displaced. Back home my schedule was booked out days in advance. Here I was not working, my school schedule was less demanding, I didn't have a house to take care of. I was not used to having so much free time. I needed more purpose!