Singing, "Welcome! Welcome to this place!"

First lesson learned from Ghanaians:

Hospitality.

To tell you the truth, I never gave much thought to hospitality. Most hospitality, I thought, fell into the category of "being polite": welcoming people into your home, offering a something to drink, giving guests the nicer seats, etc. I vaguely have noticed hospitality mentioned particularly in the Letters of the New Testament, and know that there are "hospitality committees" at churches that do nice things like make coffee, but I'd never had any reason to really look at the value of hospitality.

I really like to seem like I belong. Whether I actually belong or not is irrelevant. Wherever I go in America, I undergo at least a bit of assimilation. Partially even vocal. This summer I'd occasionally drop the second element of the diphthong heard in "I". I have a certain kind of pride that's normally associated with men, the "of course I know where I am no I'm not going to ask for directions or help I'm totally fine!" pride. I remember being in middle school, trying to hide the fact that I was using the map so as to not broadcast, "STUPID NEW KID!" Now, there is value to this. There is a safety that comes with looking confident and blending in. However, getting too anxious to ask for help is just stupid.

I'm also notoriously terrified of people, which is funny because I've always gotten comments about my "strong leadership skills". It's true that I need more alone time than a lot of people I know, but it's also true that I sometimes use that as an excuse to avoid interacting with others. It has taken me a very long time to acquire the meager "small talk" skills that I now have, and I've gotten much better at faking comfort throughout the year. A few people call me out on it. The whole, "WHY ARE YOU SO AFRAID?! IT'S NOT HELPING! YOU COULD DO SO MUCH MORE!" argument, which I have with myself all the time. That was a major reason I came to Ghana.

I will never, EVER blend in here. It just won't happen. I will never look like I belong. Hopefully by the end of the semester I'll be able to surprise people (my tactic is learning Twi), but I will never look or sound like I am a native Ghanaian.

Everyone says that Ghanaians are friendly. Everything you read about Ghana talks about how friendly the people are. When I went to the bank to inform them that I would be abroad, the man who helped me was originally from Sudan, and had gone to high school with a lot of Ghanaians and he said, "They're really friendly."

Well, it's true. It is completely normal to walk down the street, and suddenly find yourself stopping for a ten minute conversation. Boundaries and personal space are much different here than in the US, which is sometimes tricky to navigate, but sometimes just means that you're going to have to get used to the fact that vendors will come up to your car while you're stopped in traffic.

Instead of being treated like an outsider, I have been so warmly welcomed into this country. The word "Akwaaba", which means "welcome", actually means much more than that. It actually means, "you have gone, you have come," and is means, joyously, "You have arrived!" And the hospitality that Ghana shows to guests is unparalleled. Let's take today for example.

Today, I had my first class at the University of Ghana, Legon. The Life of Muhammad. (SO INTENSE.) I got there super early because Legon's campus is huge and I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to figure out what I was doing. It's a good thing I arrived so early, because the time of my class had gotten moved. Thanks to the kind people in the Religious Studies department, I found the building in plenty of time. (I used the map in my International Students Planner/Handbook obviously because I stick out so much I might as well.) When I arrived at the classroom (which was very open-air, several doorways that remained open so the room would cool), I asked a student if this was Life of Muhammad, just to be sure. He smiled, said yes, invited me to sit by him, and introduced himself. His name is Richie, which is my middle name (add a "t"), so now he calls me Ritchie.

Beyond just the warm welcome, he guided me through everything I needed to do. After class he walked me to the department office so we could pick up our reading packets for the next week, and then to the building where I would wait to catch the van back to Labone. He didn't stay and wait, that would've been too much, but he made sure I knew everything I needed to do and everywhere I needed to go. I didn't even need to ask the questions because he thought of them first.

And I started to get it, then. What hopsitality truly is and what it can do. Hospitality is the greatest gift you can give to a stranger. It's taking on the stranger's fears and needs as your own to provide for. There's a responsibility to hospitality, and it is such a relief to have that stress lifted from your shoulders. Hospitality, also, comes primarily through the little things. We passed around a sheet of paper where we all wrote down our names. I was at the end of a row, and to pass it to the next row I'd have to get up and walk--but I didn't know the unspoken manners of a Ghanaian classroom, whether that'd be fine or distracting. (Sounds like a little thing that doesn't matter, but here it's rude to wave with your left hand, so there could conceivably be a problem.) But as soon as I finished writing my name, Richie took it back and got up to hand it off. That's such a tiny thing, but the details are often the most worrying part of being a stranger. The details of what to do, where to go, what to have. And when someone's paying attention to the details, you know they're truly paying attention.

I received another kind of hospitality on my way back from the Academic Center today. After saying hello to the woman who grills plantains, corn, and coconut on the corner, she asked me, "εte sεn?" I responded, of course, with "εyε, na wo nso ε?" (note to Lindsay: yes, those IPA symbols ARE part of their orthography!) This conversation is the equivalent to "How are you?" "I'm fine, and you?" This woman then asked me something else that I didn't know, and so she proceeded to give me a short Twi lesson, even quizzing me on things she'd asked earlier. She told me that when she saw me again she'd test me. It was also a form of hospitality, a way of opening up what I can experience and welcoming me.