Why Love Africa in three scenes (warning, longest post known to man)

My life got exponentially better on tuesday. Ask me why.

"Maureen, darling, wonderful person, what about tuesday made your life so fantastic after it was really not for so long?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely, I guess I will tell you. Sit down, cause this story is a bit of a doozy by the time you get to the puch line..."
"I AM sitting...hello, COMPUTER! Just tell me already!"
"Fine fine fine...here goes:

The scene: University of Ghana, Legon, etc, on the first really rainy day since the day we landed (so, pretty much like swimming through a wet blanket to breathe) and the second day of actual class, which means that NO ONE is here yet, and most classes are not meeting. our fair heroine (thats me) has her religious studies class today, but before that she needs to go to the bank to see if her $ transfer from California has finallly come through. And this evening there is some conference thinger that she might miss if her class actually meets, but she doesnt know what it is, so no big deal. So she goes to the bank.

Scene One: crowded bank at the university, with about 20000 people trying to get their new account numbers, which come from a very harrassed lady who looks them up online from your name and scribbles them on bits of paper. NOT your most high-tech experience ever. And because it is so humid outside, the AC units in the bank are pulling overtime to make sure that your average popsicle will remain frozen in the bank. I stand in the mob of people waving bits of paper, waving my own bit of paper (a withdrawl slip that didnt work yesterday, so has been bumming around in the bottom of my bag for 24 hours, and has gotten mashed against sunglasses, notebook, and waterbottle for that time, and looks worse for wear) and, being an obruni, i catch the eye of the woman behind the desk after only 25 minutes of mobbing. She takes my paper and my id card, answers the phone, wages war on.Nigeria, helps six black people, and only when natural disasters have been averted does she look at my paper blankly and ask me what it is i want, So I tell her, she ticks some keys, scrawls something on the top of that poor abused withdrawl slip, and sends me to qeue one, which is foreign transactions, and the scene of the previous day's bank drama. I stand in line for another century, this time with no mobbing because everyone in line is not from ghana and consequently knows how to stand in line like preschoolers do, instead of like ghanaians, and i wait. and i wait. and when i get to the window i hand over that slip of paper, and after an eternity, they ACTUALLY GIVE ME MONEY!!!!! I fight my way out of the (freezing) bank and into the wet blanket rain, a grin of triumph on my face! Hurrah! I can eat today! Victory. I go home to feed the cat and my face and take a quick nap before scene two.

Scene Two: the street outside the university bookstore, where someone told me there were stairs to the room in which my class will be held. I find them, walk up them, and lo and behold, there is a classroom. And actual students. So far, so good. The chances of there acutally being class have just increased exponentially. This is religious studies, a class on the reformation ( i couldnt remember what that was excactly when I signed up for the class, but i knew i loved it, and i would like the class. sitting in the room i remember something about martin luther and suddenly it all comes back: baroque archetecture, the counter reformation, calvin and his brilliant plan, the idea of faith vs works, the whole shebang..its gonna be a good class) There is a religious studies club (a la the history club from santa cruz) already in session sitting front row center laughing and joking about life. These people look as cool as ilia and i did last year, only dressed WAY better. and i am a little jealous. so we sit, people trickle in, i am the only obruni, more people come in, and then this white guy kinda rolls in the door like a little santa clause dressed in african clothes. My first thought is 'A white guy? Whats he doing here?' Turns out he is the anglican pastor cum professor who is going to be teaching the class. Not only is the room where it is supposed to be, and there are students, but there is now a teacher. Unprecedented on the first week of class. AND, surprise of surprises, he has AN ACUTAL SYLLABUS, Be still my heart! He passes it out, talks, nominates a class captain, talks, asks us what we think history is and whether the bible qualifies as a historical document. I volunteer something, and generally stop feeling so behnd, out of place, etc, and realize (like I do every semster) that yes, i really do belong in academics, i love it and i am really good at it, even translated across half an ocean and into a whole sea of not-what-im-used-to. class is short, only half an hour, which means that i have time, if i run, to get to scene three.

Scene Three: parking lot outside of volta hall in the drizzle. I come running up in my jeans and tshirt, with my bag over my shoulder, hoping i didnt miss the bus to whatever conference thing we are going to. A group of girls from the program are there, in heels and dresses and dressed nice, ready to go. I feel underdressed, more people show up dressed well, i feel even more underdressed, and finally run up to the room to change. I come down in 32 seconds, a world record for feminine primping, even for me, and of course the bus still isnt there. the guys have showed up, though, all dressed nice and asking each other if they think this thing will be over in time to watch the football match between ghana and senegal later in the evening. I still dont know what the event is. we bus it to the convention center, possibly the swankiest building in all of west africa (they have SOAP AND TOILET PAPER in the restroom. Mary said she dressed up just for that), and go through to a big conference room that is air conditioned like antarctica to make up for the steaming rain. all of us sit in the back and start playing with the UN style mics that are set up at each set of two seats, like in congress or whatever...you know, with the button to push and say "Mr Speaker, I respectfully disagree blahblahhblah." some people are doing newscasts reading the powerpoint presentation that is ready to be given on the screen, and others are just messing around. Distinguished Individuals start entering and taking seats up in the front, and we all move down to fill in the space. The presentation starts, and it turns out that this is the inagural lecture of this thing called the International Institute for Advanced Studies of culture, economy, etc. and the MC introduces the man who makes the opening remarks, who introduces the man who makes the welcoming remarks, who introduces someone else, who introduces about half the people in the audience before introducing the chairman, who introduces the lecturer, a guy named Emmanuel Akyeampong who is ghanain but teaches history at harvard, and is giving a lecture on transnationalism and the diaspora, the slave trade, something, and something else. In other words, right up my alley. So i sit and listen, laugh dutifully at all the corny history jokes, sit up straighter when he mentions John Thornton, Michael Gomez, and about a dozen other historians that i have read and used in papers, and generally enjoy myself a whole lot. Then there are responding remarks, intro to closing remarks, pentultimate thanks remarks, closing remarks, more history jokes, and finally the MC announces the stuff most of the boys came for: refreshments, including finger food and free beer. everyone moves to the hallway and stands around eating ghanaian munchies, drinking beer and soda (which is called minerals here, btw) and generally either schmoozing or wanting to schmooze or talking akwardly. I really want to go up to the lecturer and talk to him, or at least say hi, because HARVARD, and besides i actually knew what he was talking about and loved the lecutre. Finally i get my courage up, drift closer, smile, and shake his hand. Our conversation goes like this:
me: Hi. I really liked your lecture.
him: thank you very much (polite smile and his undivided attention!)
m: i just finished my senior year studying african history at UC Santa Cruz...
(h: UC, huh?)
and I am at teh university of ghana for a year. I am looking at grad schools when i get back to the states.
h: where are you looking?
m: boston, wisconsin, UCLA
h: and are you looking at harvard?
m: i might be looking at harvard. I saw michael gomez speak at santa cruz, and now I have seen you, and i might just look at harvard.
h: I would be very disapointed if you didnt. The director of your program has my contact info and i am in town until the 13th of september. we should meet before i leave and talk about this more.
m: i would love to. I will definitly do that. thank you (manages not to be too obsequious)
end scene three."

so pretty much my lifeis amazing. i am definitly an academic, i have a place in the international history community like i wanted when i came here, and i might go to HARVARD for grad school. I am meeting him again in a couple of hours to talk, and it turns out that he is one three professors who do the phd program there in african history, and he is kinda a big guy in the feild, just a bit. i pretty much went from sulking so sailing in 2.5 seconds.