how we celebrated the fourth of july abroad

We actually spent the waning hours of July 4th in an Irish pub, cheersing Guinness, Club and Star to America's 242nd birthday. A little irreverent, yes, but a good summarization of a wholly unsuccessful attempt at bringing the American Independence Day to Ghana.

The vast majority of us left at our usual early hours to head to work. A few lucky souls have Fridays off, because their newspapers don't publish on Saturdays or whatnot. If I sound jealous, it's because I am. I arrived at my usual time, between 8:30 and 8:45, decked out in red, white and blue apparel (I love any excuse to dress in theme), and pledged early in the day, as I pored over edits to the GSMF webpage, to be on a tro-tro back to our sweet little American compound by 3 p.m.

I realized early on in the day that I'd made a completely American mistake: I wore my flip-flops to work. Ghanaians also observe some sort of "casual Friday" (in my office, some wore clothes made of tribal fabrics and kente cloths, others wore polos, t-shirts and jeans), but I still felt that my unintentional choice of footwear might be viewed as disrespectful or something else equally undesirable. I sit at a desk for most of the day, so I can keep my feet out of sight during those hours, but whenever I had to visit a coworker or when walking to the dining room for lunch, I would sort of shuffle my feet, because I thought this would make them less noticeable. I managed to go the day without anybody saying anything, but it was still mortifying.

At lunch, I started telling my coworkers about the significance of the 4th of July in America. Ghanaians understand this well -- they too threw off British colonialism, and their Independence day is sometime in February or March, I think -- and my coworkers loved hearing about the American celebratory traditions, though I found them difficult to explain. I wasn't sure whether they'd all understand what a "barbeque" or "summer vacation" meant, but the general concept of food, friendship and partying got across. An hour or two after lunch, another of my coworkers came to visit. He'd missed the lunchtime lesson, but was reeling with excitement. He told me, "Ketteh (which is how my name usually comes across in the Ghanaian accent), I was just listening to the radio, and they told me it was your Independence Day, and that I should wish any Americans I knew a Happy Independence Day!" So he did. It was very sweet. I think I was more aware of the significance of the holiday as I sat at work than I have been while celebrating at home with hot dogs and fireworks. Maybe it's because I was thinking and talking about it frequently during the day, or maybe it's because I was nostalgic for those comfortable traditions I had taken for granted.

Anyway, despite my best efforts, I left at 3:30. It was still bright, sunny and hot, and I was already feeling festive on the walk home, as I watched my red and blue-patterned skirt flap in the breeze. I purchased a FanChoco (basically a frozen chocolate milk that comes in a plastic wrapper, similar to an otter pop, but squatter, like chocolate-bar sized) from a vendor wheeling a cart (Ghana's equivalent of the ice cream truck), for the low, low price of 40 pesewas, and felt a little patriotic as I walked toward the tro-tro stop. I think that was the only time all day I did something -- eat chocolate ice cream -- that I probably would have done had I been celebrating the holiday at home. Traffic and tro-tro occupancy were light (they jam those things FULL, when given the opportunity), and quite satisfied that I'd beaten the rush hour, I headed home to celebrate. Unfortunately, not many people were back from their internships yet. I lounged around and did some reading for a while. Around five or six o'clock, we went to the grocery store ... not as exciting as it may sound. They sell hot dogs at this store, and we picked up and examined the packages for a moment or two, but sans grill, we weren't sure how exactly we'd prepare them, and finally concluded that eating no hot dogs on the Fourth would be better than eating weird boiled or fried (although THAT would have been very American, in retrospect) hot dogs on the Fourth.

I made some macaroni for dinner that night, inspired by the feather in Yankee Doodle's cap, and called it my patriotic meal for the day. People always start to trickle home around dinnertime, and after we'd all eaten, we purchased some all-American Coca-Cola's from the shop across the street ... and mixed them with all sorts of cheap liquor. You could say that we kick-started the night's celebratory festivities, but we didn't get to enjoy ourselves for too long.

New York University also runs a Ghana study abroad program, which we've all been fascinated with since Leslie returned from her midwinter trip to Africa with stories about the new and ridiculously luxe compound NYU had built for its students. Through the course of the week, a few members of our group had actually met a few members of their group, and we decided to join forces for the American holiday. We Oregonians had been invited to their place for the evening, and we jumped at the opportunity to see this palacial house for ourselves. Armed with some shoddy directions, we recruited a handful of taxis and headed towards the Osu district of Accra. We were dropped off near the TV station, because we had been told it was close to the NYU house, and were instantly lost. The streets were dark and vacant, and it was one of those scenarios your gut tells you to always avoid. So, starting to get slightly panicked about the situation, we walked towards the bright lights of a nearby hotel to find shelter and our bearings.

There were about five or six big Ghanaian bodyguards standing outside the Monte Carlo, and seeing us (Logan, Jessica, Sheena and myself -- four girls) walking towards them started opening doors and welcoming us to their hotel/bar/nightclub/whatever. We told them that we were just waiting for our friends to meet us and weren't really going to stay, but I am not sure that they heard us, and ushered us in. It was probably about 10 o'clock when we walked into the club, and it was EMPTY, making the mirrored walls and red-velvet upholstery only more noticeable. It was like Vegas in Ghana, and it was unlike anything we had ever expected to see in Africa. It was really weird. We all looked at each other with "This is REALLY awkward and uncomfortable" faces, and ducked into the washroom to escape for a few minutes. We finally met up with another taxi-full of our group, and left. Now rolling eight-people deep, we felt confident enough to roam the streets, with another set of shoddy directions, towards this hotel (Walara or something) that was actually very close to the NYU house. We walked for a while -- and oh, have I mentioned that all this happened on one of the few wet, rainy nights in Accra? What are the chances?! -- and finally, convinced that we were, again, painfully lost, and positive that we were painfully soaking, found a cab to drive us. We were desperate, and we paid out the nose for what would be a 45-second cab ride -- we had been so close!

So we FINALLY, after over an hour of traveling and getting lost, reached the NYU house, to find members of their group and members of our group standing outside, ready to head to the bars. We were tired and disappointed that we wouldn't get to exploit their marble floors and air conditioning, but followed suit. We all went to Ryan's Irish Pub, which my guidebook had described as "the expatriates' hangout," which it absolutely was -- the only Ghanaians we saw were the staff. Drinks were expensive (American or European prices, rather than African), so I just bought a beer and nursed it all night. At first, the UO kids and NYU kids separated, electing to stay with their own, but after a while we all converged and had a pretty fun night. I wasn't that impressed with the NYU crowd; I have very mixed feelings about the East Coast, and couldn't entirely figure out where to classify this group. I don't know if we'll hang out with them again or not, but it was nice to hang with an American crowd (and the token Canadians, too!) on the Fourth.

So, all in all, celebrating the Fourth in Africa was ... weird. We did weird things and went weird places. I never got my hot dog, and that's all I really wanted all day, but I did get to eat (weird) chocolate ice cream, at least. In the early evening, over dinner, a few group-members asked people what they liked the most about America. I couldn't put my finger on my answer at the time, and still really can't. But as I thought on the question, I felt really comforted, and that's probably where I will have to settle for now. America is comfortable -- both because of the material comforts we have, like nice homes and internet and familiar, delicious foods, and also because of the intangible comforts, like the family networks and friendships and opportunities for education and opportunities for anything, really. I am loving Ghana (well, we have our good and bad moments), but will also be happy to return home in a month. It's very belated, at this point, but cut an international traveler some slack ... Happy Fourth of July!