31 January - Home again

Whether you believe in a god or, like me, are an unbeliever, there is but one thing you need do to feel yourself enveloped within the thick, warm, soft feathers of an angel's wings: spend a week at a refugee camp, travel over 30 hours back to your home, and then pay the slightest bit of attention to your bed. Never has the cushion of my mattress felt so gentle and caressing to my tired limbs as it did last night, nor have I felt so grateful and aware of what I consider "simple pleasures" - a thermostat, my cat jumping on my bed to awaken me, my morning tea, my CD player filled with my favorite Irish tunes.

Life is beyond inequitable. I can't begin to imagine what it would take to bring countries such as Ghana to the standards I take for granted. Yes, there are some modern shopping malls, nearly everyone has a cell phone, there is electricity, and some homes are rather luxurious. But for the average Ghanaian - and certainly for the Liberian refugees at the camp - a life like mine looks light years away. May I at least have the good sense to be grateful for what I have.

28, 29 January - Back in Legon

This morning, Grace, Sue, and I set off for the Wild Gecko, a small artisan's shop where I bought some Kente cloth and gifts for friends. We went back to the mall for lunch, and I got some African textiles for a friend.

Peter arranged for me to attend a graduate seminar on oral tradition and performance at the College of African Studies at 2. The All-Africa semi-finals were scheduled for 4pm, with Ghana playing Algeria, and I hoped to catch most of the game. The professor told me the lecture would last about 2 and 3/4 hours.

I learned a great deal from the lecture. This was a small graduate seminar, only 6 students. At one point, the professor asked the students about other classes in which they had discussed the concept of performance. One young woman mentioned her gender studies class in which they discussed the importance of phallic performance in African male culture. It was to the extent that if a man were diagnosed with an STD, he would not find it so problematic, as the disease proved that he could "perform." I wonder about the connection of that line of thinking to the rampant HIV/AIDS on the continent. We also talked about performance in religion and at funerals. I was interested that these students laughed about the dramatic performance that is part of the religious experience in Ghana.

Three hours later, the lecture was still going strong, and I saw no sign of conclusion. I excused myself and got back for the second half of the game. Ghana won, 1-nil.

On Friday, Peter, Grace, and I went to a large artisan marketplace on the coast of Accra. Along with the many tempting items of jewelry, wooden items, kente cloth, and dolls were beautiful oil paintings and museum objects. Included in the collection were some pretty fantastic coffins sculpted to resemble fish, birds, a Nike shoe, a beer bottle.

I flew over with a large and a medium suitcase. I figured I'd come back with the smaller of the two after giving away so much to the schools. But after this morning's purchases, I decided the larger suitcase made more sense. I've accumulated papers, drawings, books, souvenirs, and gifts along with remarkable memories.