River Island

I LOVE AMSTERDAM.

As soon as I arrived at the hotel I started to look through the Amsterdam fashion magazines to find the best places to shop. In one particular magazine I found these sandals as a part of an African-safari spread. They are made by a brand called River Island. After a little research, I found that River Island had a store nearby Dam Square and decided to pay it a visit. Luckily, I found these exact shoes there and bought them for about 60Euro.

Check 'em out at www.riverisland.com

Port Boulet

Ah! I had an incredible day today. I went to visit a very good friend of mine, Marion, in a small town outside of Paris called Port Boulet. Marion and I met while she was an exchange student at NYU and we took a course together taught by the infamous Anna Deavere Smith. Anna partnered the two of us together to create and perform an acting piece which combined Quartet a monologue that Marion taught me in French and June Jordan's "A Poem About My Rights", an African-American writer. It was during this process that Marion and I became great friends and explored concepts of race, identity, womanhood and each other. We have been soul-mates ever since.. But I digress..

I called Marion when I arrived in Paris and she told me that she was away on a road-trip with her boyfriend in the French countryside and that she was not able to meet up with me while I was in Paris. "Are you upset with me?" she asked, "Of course not!" I responded.. And we said our goodbyes. Marion has always been very receptive to my change in emotions because like me, she is a CANCER.. Our birthdays are only a few days apart. She called me right back and asked me to meet her in Port Boulet.. And as she says, she knew I would say Yes.

So early this morning I managed to navigate my way on the Paris Metro to the Gare Montparnasse train station and purchased a round-trip ticket to Port Boulet where she, her boyfriend, and his mother picked me up.


As if the train ride through the French countryside wasn't beautiful enough, they drove me around to see the town which is by far the most charming place I have ever seen. They took me to see a Catholic Cathedral which was built in the 1100s and a number of castles which peppered the countryside. (we were planning to see it all by bicycle but somehow I managed to bring the rain with me from New York to Ghana and also to France).

While it was raining we stopped to have tea and cider and this amazing little place which had all sorts of old books for sale.



Then we went to visit a shop that made soaps by hand from all of the roses that grew all over the town.. Literally all over..




This place smelled like heaven.. So of course I had to pick up a fewthings for my mother and I.. But I decided that I would have to bring her back here one day.



While at the cafe, Marion and I decided to purchase these little notebooks that displayed famous commedia dell arte scenes. I chose this one..



Which shows a woman stabbing a man in the heart.. A scene from Moliere. It says on the back, "Ah! La belle chose que de savoir quelque chose" which Julian explains means vaguely that things aren't always how they seem. He found it ironic that I chose that one while Marion chose one with men pouring themselves over one woman. She bats her eyelids and asks him to buy them for us. He of course blushes and says "of course". Later, Marion informs me that I will Never find a boyfriend by stabbing them in the heart. I guess she is right about this one.. She asks me what I think of her boyfriend and I tell her he's a sweetheart. She says she wants to find a French boyfriend for me so that I will have to stay here with her.. We'll see.

We ride through the countryside and they point out many more beautiful things.. My heart slows and for the first time all trip I am peaceful.



They drop me off at the train station and we say our goodbyes.. Marion and I hug and tear up a little. She promises me that next time I will stay with her at her parents' horse ranch. I of course think this is a great idea because I love to ride! (even though it has been many years). On the way back to Paris, I stop in a town called Tours for dinner.. Margherita pizza and wine of course. Merci!

-- Post From My iPhone

Witch Doctor

By far.. My favorite thing about Visiting Kumasi (few hrs outside of Accra, Ghana) was the market. This market is by far the largest open- air market in western Africa Birds eye view:





Our tour guide reminded me so much of my best friend Ayanna's mother:





I bought enough jewelery for a small village.. They had everything there! A must visit for anyone traveling to Ghana! I cannot describe this market with words. My favorite part though was visiting the Witch Doctor and getting to see all of the snake heads and such used for charms and spells:







-- Post From My iPhone

Strength of a Warrior

Today I visited Kakum National Park and both the Cape Coast and Elmina Slave Castles.  It was very interesting to walk in the steps of the Obamas just days after their visit.

July 19, 2009

I thought I would be most effected by the spirits of the people who died while captured inside of the Slave Castles when in fact I was most effected by the spirits of those who survived. I wonder what sort of strength my ancestors had.. what sort of power and will is running through my veins. If only 1 out of 3 Africans survived living months inside these torture chambers and even less survived the middle passage.. I am astounded by the amount of strength my ancestors had in the sheer will to survive. I think of who this woman might have been..

Perhaps she was about my age. She would have been separated from her family and friends while captured as a prisoner of war and kidnapped by African slave traders. I cannot fathom how Africans could trade the lives of their fellow brothers and sisters to the Engli

sh, Dutch and Portuguese for things such as liquor and jewels. Perhaps this is what colonialism does to a person.. Makes luxury and wealth more important than human lives. But isn't this exactly what still happens today?

I wonder what this woman would have looked like. If she had been beautiful she would have most likely been raped by kidnappers and guards along the way. If not, her opportunity might have come when the general requested for all the female slaves to be brought out into the center of the castle to choose one as his concubine. He would peer down at them from his platform and pick which one he wanted.. kind of liking choosing cattle for slaughter. The guards would then seize her. 

Water would be drawn from a well and she would be washed in preparation for him. 

If she refused, she would be beaten, starved or killed. Once broken, she would ascend the long spiral staircase up to the General's quarters where he would have her way with her. When he was done, it would be the guards' turn.

The slave women would be separated and shackled together in groups of at least five. Buckets were placed at either side of the dungeon which is pitch black and holds several hundred women at a time. These buckets were intended for relieving oneself meaning if one person had to go.. all those shackled to her must go as well. After time, the body becomes too weak to move and everyone begins to use the relieve themselves on the floor. The smell must have been horrific.. The dungeon floor would have been covered with urine, feces, and vomit. There would have been no air. If a woman has become pregnant she would have to give birth to her child on that floor while still shackled to those around her.

Men and women were separated from capture. I wonder if this young woman had a husband. If so, she would most likely never see him again, alive. If so, it would be at the door of no return and only then for a brief moment. I wonder how he would have reacted when her cries were heard. Perhaps he had a child that he would never see. I imagine her giving birth and having her child ripped from her breast as soon as she could give him a name. I wonder what kind of strength can survive all of this.

I rubbed my hands across the stone walls of the female dungeon and for a second I could almost hear those women crying. Tears fall down my face and I feel completely weak and helpless. I weep for those women.. Those who died.. Those who survived and all of those men who could do Nothing.

I felt almost infantile today.. and broken. My sickness has made me very weak in my body and in my spirit. Whenever I walk down the stairs there is a man to offer his hand as if my legs are going to break in two. I get so angry with myself especially when looking at the Ghanaian woman who carries 75lbs of firewood on her head while her baby is strapped to her back. These slave women had the strength and the will to survive through famine, rape, sickness, loss and every other horrible thing you could imagine. They must have kept their mind on survival while both those chained to the left and right of them were dead. They would have seen their sons murdered before their very eyes.. (how many women still witness this today??) and serve as powerless bystanders of the emasculation of their men. The Ghanaian Man is the provider for and leader of his family.. (more on him later). He is not deficient by human nature.. He was made that way!

I have realized that this trip is about finding my strength.. Finding the strength of a Warrior.. better yet.. the strength of a Queen.

The Resting Place

I woke up this morning to the sound of roosters greeting the Sun and cows outside my window. They begin the Village Morning announcements by loud speaker at about 5:30 am. This is the time when everyone gets up and ready to go to farm. We had a tour of the Village today. I am amazed by how friendly and happy everyone is amongst so much poverty. They smile and wave at us and ask to shake our hands. They say, "Akwaaba!" which means welcome.. And some say to me, "welcome home!" I do feel at home here. Humjibre literally means "the resting place". If it is spelled in Twi it begins H-O-M-E. I feel that my soul is resting and at home here.. What an incredible blessing.

So I am told the carrying of things on the head is called a "head load".. I have seen all sorts of incredible things being carried on the heads of young and old from wood logs for making fire, to suitcases.. things to sell in the streets such as hundreds of satchels of water, toys to sell, bricks.. Anything you could imagine.

Wherever we go the children follow us and grab a hold of our hands. Two little girls have taken to me especially and they are adorable, Josephina and Frieda.. they are both six years old. We held hands and laughed and skipped down the road.. They just smiled and looked at me. It is going to be so hard to leave them but will make it so much more important for me to come back.


-- Post From My iPhone

Arrival

Just arrived in Humjibre a couple of hours ago after about an 8 hr tro tro ride. If any of you don't know what a tro tro is it is basically how it sounds.. An old busted kinda broken down van which has absolutely no shock absorbency and of course no air conditioning. We left the hostel in Accra at approximately 4:30 am.. Didn't have a chance to take a shower. Well actually I decided against taking a shower, even though it would be my last contact with running water because I couldn't fathom using the bathroom at the Salvation Army Hostel. As I mentioned in my last post, the room in which we were staying had 6 twin beds and only cost 6 Ghanaian Cedis so about $4 American dollars. There was one bathroom for the entire hostel to share.. which strangely enough was accommodating about 50 "little people" who were competing in the dwarf world cup or something like that. So when I went to wash my face in the morning and a midget (for lack of better word) came in and started peeing in the urinal next to the sink.. I decided that I'd had quite enough. Nothing against little people, I would have reacted the same way if it were any Man. But when in Africa..

As I'm writing this little boys keep peering in through the window of our bedroom. Boys will be Boys. The little girls are all so sweet and kind. They just hang onto me and hug me and tell me I am beautiful to which I reply, "no, YOU are beautiful.. and they just smile and laugh". It is not hard to make a Ghanaian laugh. The boys are too shy to approach me but as soon as I pull out a camera they all ham it up! Especially the little girls.. They start posing and trying to get in front and then grab at the camera to see themselves saying, "That's me! That's me!"

We have a cook who comes to make us lunch and dinner, her name is Fastina. Today we had rice balls with some sort of peanut based tomato sauce which was pretty good. I hear goats from my window and roosters.( Is that right, plural of goat is goats?? ) But anyway, I'm told it isn't really a goat it is actually a sheep which confuses me... Eh..

I have a feeling this will be a long post. So back to what I was saying before.. We left Accra about 4:30 am and to my surprise Ghana was already awake! Wide awake! Not that dazed 8 am caffeine crazed clutching coffee cup awake that New Yorkers have.. I mean like up, energized and been hustling for hours awake. Before the Sun came up the whole city was moving.. Pulsating with the energy to get things done. Carrying all sorts of things on their head!! I have to say I am amazed by this.. But more on that later.


-- Post From My iPhone

First Impressions - Accra

So I've just arrived in Accra, Ghana and am feeling strangely in a familiar place. As soon as I stepped off the plane I could SMELL and FEEL the water in the air. This is why I love to be close to the water! My mother says that Ghana is the place of my ancestry. She knows this because a particular blood disease that is prevalent in my family were traced back to this part of the world. She says this is easily recognized by the craving for red dirt that is found in certain parts of the world.. and the first thing that I noticed from the plane. I feel I am among friends.. or better yet.. FAMILY.

I have been traveling for a little over 24hrs and am exhausted but energized in a certain way. I flew from Cincinnati ---> Chicago ----> Frankfurt, Germany ----> Accra, Ghana. We are staying at the Salvation Army Hostel for the night before traveling by tro tro to the village leaving at 4:30 am. I am told that the Hostel costs approximately 6 Ghanian Cedis a night which equates to probably about $3 or $4 for a room that sleeps 7.. so that should give you an idea about the quality of the place.. But when in Africa.. I feel blessed and am certainly not complaining. I originally thought that the woman at the currency exchange made a mistake when she gave me over 370 cedis for my $260 American dollars.. last I heard the exchange rate was 1 to 1.. but apparently that is no longer the case. A blessing for me nonetheless but not so great for the African economy.

I am sitting in an internet cafe which costs a cedi an hour.. the rest of our group is at a soccer game. I came in a little later so was unable to go but look forward to meeting them all at dinner. Our group leader, Devon, has told me that the girls are really excited to see me in particular which makes me smile. I sent them a picture of me in a purple dress with pearls, they probably don't get the opportunity to meet very many Black Americans. I am anxious and excited to meet them as well and settle in the village for the next few weeks. What an incredible journey.. everything is going well and God has blessed me with all that I have asked for and more. I am looking forward to growth and transformation.