Before we arrived in Ghana, I was nothing but excited.
I expected friendly people, welcoming and warm. I expected beautiful beaches and great shopping. I expected to stand out, but I also figured that I’d be able to blend into the background as much as possible, taking in the sights and enjoying every minute of it.
I did not expect to be harassed, constantly, by vendors in Accra trying to sell me things, to the point where I was actually brought to tears. I didn’t know that the capital city of Accra, only 14 km away, would involve nearly 3 hours on a bus each way due to traffic.
I was blindsided by Ghana. And at first, I hated it.
I’ve traveled to many different countries, some even worse in terms of poverty, than Ghana. And I’ve dealt with harassment from vendors, but this was something else. I was continually pulled, pushed, grabbed and yelled at, to the point I just felt like crying.
In the arts and crafts market, I was looking at buying a dress. Before I knew it, I was pushed into a corner (literally) by the shop owner, who pulled out a bag of 200 dresses over and over saying “how about this one?” “this one?” “this one?” so quickly that I couldn’t even have a second to really look.
And then the other shop owners came over with their dresses. And more. And more. And more.
When one of the women pushed me into a dress and started forcing my breasts down into something that obviously didn’t fit, while 18 men and women stood around watching me and laughing, all saying “how much?” “how much you want to pay?” I nearly lost it.
And what happened? I bought the dress, just to get out of the situation.
This is not new. This is the way of life in Ghana, and I have to respect that. The sad part is, I came to shop. I wanted to spend money and support local vendors–but the constant harassment turned me off to the point that all I wanted to do was go to bed.
This was the bad side to my experience in Ghana. And it isn’t all bad, I promise. Just keep reading.
I do believe there’s a myth being perpetuated by other travelers about Africa–the “poor child” myth. The myth that there are kids, kicking rocks in villages, so happy having so little. The myth that they want nothing from you but to know more about your culture.
Maybe that’s true in other parts of Africa, in places that are less-traveled to. Maybe my experience would’ve been different had I not been traveling on a ship with 500 mostly American 18-year-old students.
I understand that saying this out loud probably makes me sound like an ignorant foreigner. But my time in Ghana showed me this:
They are happy people. But they are well aware that they have little, and you have more. And that’s nearly impossible to escape.
After I escaped Accra, I got a chance to visit a village, where I got to interact with these happy, shining kids. And I can see how this story of the happy poor kids has been told by travelers around the world, again and again. But I also saw the faces of some women, who seemed so unhappy to have to deal with us, who looked like they’d much prefer to go on with their day.
And it was weird, sitting there, taking photos. So we all got up to dance.
By day 4 in Ghana, I was exhausted. After talking to some of the students who did homestays in villages, and hearing about their amazing experiences, I just kept thinking: “why am I not seeing this country the way they are?”
Is it because I’ve traveled before? I’ve seen this so the tourist runaround so many times. Am I just too jaded? While others are playing with the happy kids dancing, I see the chief, dressed in traditional clothes, talking on his cell phone, and the satellites on the thatch roof huts and can’t help but question how “authentic” the experience really is.
I left Ghana feeling conflicted about my experience, and really, I think I’m still processing it.
I am happy to say, however, that the country definitely grew on me by Day 4, mostly because I never went back to Accra.
If you do go to Ghana, remember this: Avoid Accra. There are so many more beautiful parts to this country.
