Crazy Stories

When I was in Ghana, I prided myself on doing all these crazy things and having all these crazy stories. How many people do you know that have had a cab driver ask “Did he sex you?” How many people have been chased by policemen for crossing the grass in the wrong place? What about getting locked in an apartment and having to climb over a wall in the middle of the night to get out? And these are just some of the stories that help me stand apart from the other people in Ghana with me. If you put me in an American context, how many people do you know who've eaten rats, bats, and fish eyeballs? Who has been asked if they were married in front of an entire church of single men? And the list could go on.
We came to Ghana to learn about another culture – to find out how much we could tolerate and to try to learn to accept another perspective. Lofty goals. However, we were expected to accomplish them by having “experiences.” The more you've done and put up with, the better a person you are. You've found out what you're made of, how much of another culture you can tolerate. You've challenged yourself and seen just how far out of your comfort zone you can go. And at the same time, you've validated another culture by participating in it. Good for you. Everyone admires you and is jealous of what you've accomplished.
You know what? Bologna. I've been telling my stories with pride, with the added benefit of being able to be wildly entertaining by putting everything in a sarcastic light so everyone ends up laughing. But what am I proud of? What are we laughing at? At the corruption in the Ghanian police system? At my ability to eat anything no matter how much I might be abusing my body? What have I really gained?
Corruption is part of what keeps Ghanians so poor. I'm enjoying experiencing part of what might have starved a child. Ghanian's lack of mastery of the English language and preoccupation with sex holds them back and leads to problems with AIDs. A poorly constructed and vulgar sentence is really funny. And what, may I ask, is so special about climbing over a wall or being proposed to by a bunch of desperate Christian men? Seems more sad to me – only funny because it happened in Africa. About the food... the only thing I seem to have gained from that experience is a bunch of parasites.
Not all experiences are good or worthwhile. In the end, how did the crazy things I did benefit me or anyone else? They make for good stories, but those stories often poke fun at terrible aspects of Ghanian life or merely exalt myself. It seems like I haven't learned anything about tolerance after all. I've only learned how wonderful I am and how silly Ghanians can be. And I certainly didn't do Ghanians any favors or show them any love. You know, I went to Ghana because I wanted to learn how I might be able to make a difference someday, and instead I let myself be influenced by the people around me. I learned I am an arrogant monster.