I'm building my photography portfolio. Here is a sample of my work that confirmed for me and many of my supporters that photography is not only a passion of mine but something in which I may have some talent. I hope you enjoy. I took this trip to Ghana in 2004 and managed to write two emails to family and friends back home. I've included those emails below:
June 17, 2004
Family & friends:
I'm in Ghana on my fourth day and it feels like I’ve been here for weeks! It feels this way because our days are packed with activities. We have traveled to 4 different cities and stayed in four hotels. I have seen much of the country and mountainside. Mom has not received her luggage, yet her spirits remain high. British Airways will have hell to pay when we return.
On our first day, we traveled all over Accra. I have learned much about Ghana's history, politics and culture. Although this is a matriarchal society and women are believe to be the giver of life and the first teacher, women still are not given equal rights...the male enjoys a privileged status here. One interesting saying we learned today is this: "You educate a man, you educate one person. You educate a woman, and you educate a community." This is a testament to the respect that women are given. Traditionally, women work in the home, do the bargaining in the markets, and teach the children. The men fish, build, or work outside the home, and are the primary bread winners. Although, feminist and American women would have problems with this family system, it seems to work without much perceived harm. Though I have to say that I may not see the harm because, to date, everyone who has spoken to us have been men.
Ghanaians are very spiritual people. The country is 70% Christian, 15% Muslim and the other hold on to the traditional spirituality. We met a Chief Priest yesterday and were blessed by him. We had a welcome dinner on Tuesday evening where dancers and drummers performed for us. With the risk of sounding corny, I have to say it was art in motion. We always knew that life originated here in Africa, but it appears to me that dance and music (celebratory forms of life) also originated here. We all joined the dancers later; imitating the moves they taught us.
Yesterday, we visited the Wli waterfall after a 45 minute hike through the forest. So far, we haven't seen many animals. I expect we will see many more when we visit the Mole National Park. We will stay at a motel onsite at the park. We are dreading the accommodations but anticipate the game viewing.
Today we were able to experience a market in Kumasi. The various scents of fish, dried pork skin, musk combined with the heat and humidity made me feel faint. No worries, I didn't fall out. Mom bought some material for her friend James and his wife. She was able to strike a good bargain.
I'm not sharing all that we have done because I don't have the time to share it all in one email. So I’m giving it to you piece meal. However, I will end with some more random thoughts: Ghanaians are warm spirited people. I have seen so many beautiful children beaming with gracious smiles and friendly waves. The food has been pretty good and sometimes spicy. One downfall is we have experience several vendors attempting to take advantage of us. Charging more for food or services- This is no different to experiences in other countries but I still get upset when anyone tries to take advantage of me.
I have to sign off now but hopefully, I can check in another time.
June 22, 2004
Family and friends,
I am back in Kumasi, Ghana. Last night we returned from Mole National Park. It was a wonderful three days! So far, Northern Region of Ghana is my favorite. Where do I start...the Northern region is mostly Muslim...making up the 15% of the entire country. There are many villages throughout the region and it is a more beautiful and relaxed setting than in Kumasi or Accra. The people live in circular, clay huts that have straw tops. Children walk freely throughout the villages often by themselves and eager to welcome strangers from afar.
We went to visit the Chief of Choggu who is referred to as Choggu Naa. He spoke to us and gave us a tour of his village. He had 7 wives and about 70 children...he really couldn't confirm the number of children but it was somewhere near 70! I think he populated most of the village with his own seed. His first wife invited us to view her hut. It was interesting to see this hut furnished with a television, full size bed, and air conditioned! First wife has some perks. The rest of the village was so picturesque. I took some of my favorite photos in the Choggu.
We stayed at the Mole National Park Motel...as we expected, the accommodations were lacking. There is no water plant anywhere in the area so our water supply came from the same waterholes that the elephants, crocodiles, antelopes, etc bathed in without filter. Needless to say, none of us used the shower/sink for anything. Instead we all were taking Dasani showers. Thank God for bottled water!
At any rate, other than the water issue, I loved my stay in Mole. Our room was situated on a cliff that overlooked the forest. So we woke up every morning with a view of elephants at the waterhole or grazing through the grounds. We went on 2 walking safaris- one in the evening and one the following morning! Being the nature girl that I am, I was intoxicated the entire time. I was 20 meters away from elephants, warthogs, antelope and baboons. Actually, a baboon ran right pass me as I was walking sitting outside my room...crazy, yet exciting! My time at Mole completely relaxed me and I am grateful to have had this experience!
We also went to the Larabanga village. We saw the one oldest mosque in West Africa (built 15th century). It was beautiful and I had a personal tour guide name Fataal. He is 13 years old and very knowledgeable of the village history. Later, the village children danced. It was so amazing to see the similarities in their dance moves to our own. Of course, we were asked to join in the dancing. Based on what I saw, everyone was able to hang with the natives. Mom even got up and got her groove on.
The cities of Ghana are not as picturesque as the villages of the north. They look like impoverished metropolis. The people are more aggressive and not as polite.
We've done some shopping in several markets and boy is that nerve-wrecking. The vendors are SOOOO aggressive and bargaining is key. This is perfect training for New York City. Things are so inexpensive here...especially if you bargain. I have been proud of my negotiation skills but not so proud of the few times I had to yell at folks for being too pushy. It was necessary though to manage the sometimes rowdy crowd.
Well, I think I will sign off. By the way, mom finally got her luggage on Friday.
Thursday, we are going to Elmina castle, which was built by the Portuguese. We will see the dungeons, holding cells, and other structures used to facilitate the slave trade. I’m not sure what to expect. I’m sure it will be haunting. Especially, considering my malaria medicine makes me have awful or violent dreams every night.
Well, I hope all is well with everyone. I apologize for the mass emails, but I don't have the time to write personal emails.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Ghana: Passion is born
The Sabor of Cuba
I wrote this after my 2 weeks studying conga, salsa and afro-cuban dance in Havana,Cuba in 2003. The photo is one of my first photos I took with my Fujifilm Finepix.
When I first I arrived to Cuba my soul was encircled by the warmth of the people. From the customs personnel to airport security to the taxi driver and eventually to the streets of Habana., I was home. Images stirred memories of “mi abuelo.” And for a moment I was sad- sad not to have him with me longer than I did and sad not to have all the answers about my family-,my heritage. I came to Cuba looking to discover its mystery…to taste its “sabor.”
Cuba…where children play outside all day long...games of stick ball played in the yards of the Capitolio, the streets of Centro Habana, the playground of la escuela...talent cultivated by the desire of enjoyment
Cuba...where strangers invite you into their homes, their lives...offering their stories, their food (arroz christianos or arroz blanco y frijoles negros, platanos maduros and flan), asking only for friendship in return.
Cuba… where men adorn women with compliments and offers of love- wanting to find a foreign vessel to carry their passion and their love to places their bodies will never be.
Cuba... where the ambitious are morphed into street hustlers...selling anything from tobacco to amor …"pudos, taxi…novio?" dancing between the rhythms, singing notes of instant friendship, stroking the strings of material expectations receiving a little of something you have plenty of…the American dollar.
Nationals represent true citizenship: believing in a revolution that the world see as false…living happier than those that seek to judge oh blessed Cuba…. the aroma of music seeps into your soul as you walk through the streets of habana vieja.
Africa found its home in Cuba... intertwined its religion, art, and language into that of the Spaniard…I guess slavery’s extended stay in Cuba allowed Africa to plant its roots deeper…depositing nutrients of rhythms, drums, celebration, worship, faith and community…Or maybe the isolation brought by the Revolucion nurtured its gift of Africa while other lands sought to eliminate the African.
Cuba…you have transformed me yet I do not know my new form. Perhaps the love you have filled me with has yet to take shape in my spirit… My soul had a longing that only Cuba could satiate. And so I have a love for Cuba that has never existed for America. I have a memory of Cuba of a life I never lived. Cuba is my home…the place where I was born…
I went to Cuba to discover its mystery…yet I believe I may have only started to unravel the mystery of me.
Cuba…where children play outside all day long...games of stick ball played in the yards of the Capitolio, the streets of Centro Habana, the playground of la escuela...talent cultivated by the desire of enjoyment
Cuba...where strangers invite you into their homes, their lives...offering their stories, their food (arroz christianos or arroz blanco y frijoles negros, platanos maduros and flan), asking only for friendship in return.
Cuba… where men adorn women with compliments and offers of love- wanting to find a foreign vessel to carry their passion and their love to places their bodies will never be.
Cuba... where the ambitious are morphed into street hustlers...selling anything from tobacco to amor …"pudos, taxi…novio?" dancing between the rhythms, singing notes of instant friendship, stroking the strings of material expectations receiving a little of something you have plenty of…the American dollar.
Nationals represent true citizenship: believing in a revolution that the world see as false…living happier than those that seek to judge oh blessed Cuba…. the aroma of music seeps into your soul as you walk through the streets of habana vieja.
Africa found its home in Cuba... intertwined its religion, art, and language into that of the Spaniard…I guess slavery’s extended stay in Cuba allowed Africa to plant its roots deeper…depositing nutrients of rhythms, drums, celebration, worship, faith and community…Or maybe the isolation brought by the Revolucion nurtured its gift of Africa while other lands sought to eliminate the African.
Cuba…you have transformed me yet I do not know my new form. Perhaps the love you have filled me with has yet to take shape in my spirit… My soul had a longing that only Cuba could satiate. And so I have a love for Cuba that has never existed for America. I have a memory of Cuba of a life I never lived. Cuba is my home…the place where I was born…
I went to Cuba to discover its mystery…yet I believe I may have only started to unravel the mystery of me.
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