Where were my feet planted?

Almost as soon as I stepped foot onto the Ghanaian coast, I questioned my intentions for being there. Each of us has an inner defense mechanism that warns us of danger and pushes us to find a route of escape. At first, I solely wanted to share my joyous experiences and leave out the terrifying ones. Since then, I’ve changed my mind, and I’d like you to join me in all parts of the trip. When I arrived in Ankaful village where the professor has her residence, I phoned my mom and let her know that I had arrived safely. At this time, I didn’t speak long, because I didn’t want her to know that I was unsure and afraid. I wanted to wait on my feelings and try to get a handle of the newness of this land. I spent the first full day at the Professors guest house just gathering my thoughts, making plans for the photo projects, and organizing my belongings.
Late in the afternoon, the Prof. asked me to join her for lunch at a restaurant on the beach known as Mable’s Table. I ordered fish and potatoes. While we waited for our food, Prof. told me about the people of Ghana. Disease and death are a normal part of life she said. There is a funeral literally every weekend and at every church. It’s their common social gathering/ their weekly party. That is a great number of deaths, because there are so many churches. Religion is such a huge part of life. The Prof. would say that it is their life, but it is a surface religion. Everyone is a believer in a god and every belief is a mix of superstition, and voodoo always tags along. She also said that they hadn’t internalized the morals of any religion. There was no right or wrong in this land, things happened because the gods or spirits wanted them to happen in such a way. I mentioned earlier that they shared no understanding of the cause and effect principle. Anything that took place didn’t have reason for its occurrence. For example, If I hit you with my car and killed you, it would be no one’s fault, it was just your time to die. No one would question the outcome or wonder why things happened the way they did. Things just happen. People die, women are raped, and children become ill. No one is responsible for their actions and everyone is forgiven. It is part of their culture. It is always someone else’s fault. They might say that there is no reason for the way things happen, there is no moral truth, and no right or wrong. This philosophy of life blew me away. The suffering, chaos, and unpredictability of life here made sense when I was told how their system worked. This provided an easy route for crime because there would be no real justice served, and it would be no one’s fault. I recently read that if a woman is raped she has to pay between $100 and $250 to have a form signed that records her attack. That is a very large sum of money in Ghana. Many people will make only $5 a month. So, they say that less than half of these crimes are reported. Also, if a woman is raped, it is likely that he husband will never take her back. She will likely be physically damaged and never have a way to recover. If you would like the article about this, let me know. All to say, there is little or no punishment for wrong doing. I had always heard that Ghana was a semi-safe place. After learning that most crime is never reported, my feelings of uncertainty were validated by the facts. I had eaten as much as I could. The fish that they brought was huge. I couldn’t eat half of it, but the waitress said that she would. When the Prof. had finished, she made it clear to me that Ghana was a safe place. At this moment, I knew that I didn’t trust her. No place was safe where this kind of activity was permitted. I felt strangely alone, frightened, and tired. I wanted to work through my feelings, and I wanted to be able to trust someone. I didn’t want to play the part of a wimpy girl, but I knew that I didn’t like the feelings associated with where my feet were planted.