First impressions and aftermath

Only after having been here for almost a week are things starting to look a little bit familiar. The arrival was chaotic. Our flight into Accra was delayed by about an hour and a half from Amsterdam; once on the ground, I waited through a crowded customs line only to be told that my passport was going to be held because I hadn't listed the address where I would be staying. I figured out how to call my hosts' cell phone as I searched through a long, topsy-turvy pile of baggage. So I got my passport back. But still. Walking out of the airport, I was faced with what I can only describe as a huge mob of shouting, celebrating Ghanaians, held at bay by police barriers and armed police. Feeling more than a little exposed, I walked along the line of the crowd, sensing the improbability of seeing my name on one of those little white signs. But there it was. On two signs, no less, and with smiling faces to match.

Even through my travel-weariness, I soon realize that I am very, very privileged to be able to stay in a beautiful home with a kind family where I can be safe and supported. Honestly, this is not exactly how I imagined the project starting out - so safe and secure - but who can argue with this when my chiefest, deepest desire is often to be safe and accepted. A good starting point, I tell myself, but then I still long to stretch out, to go out on the limb I have promised myself.

I spent a few days recovering from jet lag and getting used to malaria pills and humidity. I changed my dollars and few remaining euros into New Ghana Cedis (they've very recently been re-denominated from Old Ghana Cedis); I also bought a cheap cell phone and SIM card - for emergencies and sniping friends back home.

Yesterday I went to a community festival in the town of Ada, about an hour and a half outside of Accra, with a drummer friend who offered to show me around. This was my first look at non-city Ghanaian life. We arrived at about 10 a.m. and the narrow street was already clogged with street vendors and onlookers. We joined one of the brass bands as it marched down the street, singing and waving our hands at the chief held up in the air. The huge colored umbrellas that were carried right behind the chief reminded me distinctly of New Orleans. I was tired a lot of the time, though, so had to rest periodically.

Today we went to church in Accra, which amounted to organ plus a great choir and African percussion. I met some musicians at the club at the hotel down the road last night, and I might go sit in with them later on. I've heard of a few jazz clubs around town, but as far as when and where I usually start and end with word of mouth. It is hard to say where things will go from here. I am anxious to keep on moving. Sometimes 5 months seems like forever, but every once in a while it seems like it will never be long enough!

No luck uploading images this time - may have to wait for a faster connection.