My backpack was towering over my head. Packed to capacity with clothing, a mosquito net, and my own personal pharmacy, it (hopefully) held everything I would need for the expedition of a lifetime to Ghana.
Last summer, I traveled on a four-week trip sponsored by the American Jewish World Service called the International Jewish College Corps (IJCC). The program provides opportunities for Jewish college students to be culturally immersed in developing countries while studying Judaism and performing acts of social justice.
I left Ghana a more committed Jew with a sense of infinite possibility, having gained a taste of the vast variety of people and places that the world has to offer.
Going to Africa had always been a dream of mine. I wanted to make a lasting impact on the lives of other people as well as experience another culture. When I stepped onto the tarmac at the Ghana airport, it hadn’t yet hit me that I was going to be in Africa for four weeks. I got off the plane and into a tiny van—a tro-tro—crammed with all of our luggage and the twelve still-unfamiliar faces of my fellow volunteers. After a tro-tro ride lasting several hours over bumpy roads, with rain pouring down on us, the reality of being in Ghana finally sank in.
The next day I woke up in a hotel room, ready to travel to my new village home. I saw the coconut trees and felt the strong rays of the sun. When we reached Agorve—our site—the elders of the village welcomed us and all of the children came running towards us. It sent chills running up and down my spine.
Throughout our time in Ghana it was the children of the village who acted as our guides. They took us to the beach and showed us their houses. It felt so surreal to have hundreds of children welcome me into their life. They all had wonderful names—such as Mauwi, Unis, Justice, and Godsway. During the day, as we built the foundation for a new school, the children would watch us with curious eyes and wave to us, laughing. Seeing thirteen white Americans trying to lift 50-pound bricks, and head pans of cement on our heads must have been quite a sight!
Communicating with the villagers was fairly easy since English is the official language in Ghana. They understood some things we said but found our American speech very fast. Speaking slowly became a skill I practiced daily. Sometimes, however, the best communication was just a gesture or a smile.
For much of my life, I often felt that I was missing something. My time in Ghana helped to change that. My trip helped me to become a person who truly tries to appreciate every other person, and every day that Hashem has given us. My identity is still the same, but the way I live my life as a Jew is different now.
It may seem strange that just spending time in another country would create such a real change. Somehow, though, the simple facts of life in Ghana—where the main resource is sand, the diet is largely fruit, and my village lived without electricity—helped me to realize how truly fortunate I am. As an American who tends to take my home for granted, it was eye-opening to find that many of my new neighbors’ most cherished goal was simply to move to my country.
In some circumstances, such cultural and economic differences could have made for social awkwardness. Luckily, our neighbors couldn’t have been more warm and incredibly welcoming. Neighbors like Stephan.
One afternoon, after working on the school site, I went to a house that resembled a sukkah and met a tall, very slender man who was incredibly friendly. I walked into his living area and introduced myself.
“Ah,” he said, “Miss Becca, nice to meet you. I’m Stephan.”
“Unfortunately,” his wife added, “Stephan is blind.”
He was so excited to meet me. He ran inside to get his accordion and began to play for me. We talked for nearly an hour about everything from politics to his work as an arts and crafts schoolteacher. His English was excellent. At the end of the conversation, Stephan said that he wanted to make me a woven chair, and that I must take it back to America and tell everyone about him.
Every night before going to sleep my head was full of a million thoughts. Was I truly making a difference in the world? Do all people have good intentions? These and many more questions filled my dreams, presenting me with questions about my place in the world. Among other things, the trip made me comprehend how important Judaism is to me. I have always considered myself a connected, observant Jew, but when I lived in a place where there were no other Jews outside of my group, I realized how fully I want to live my life in a Jewish way.
Many of my choices in Ghana came from this understanding. I became stricter in observance of the laws of Kashrut, of Shabbat, of rituals of study. I began to wear skirts all the time. I wanted to make big changes in my life and decided that my twenty-first summer was the best time to start.
Why would Ghana of all places make feel so strongly about being more observant? For me, this trip was a religious journey, taken at a pivotal time in my life. Even before I left New Jersey, I was seeking something, and now I believe that something was greater observance. Being in a non-Jewish environment only made me want to strive for more Judaism in my life. Thus, being in Ghana brought out in me a thirst for more learning and more ritual.
I love to learn about other cultures. Being immersed in the Ghanaian society was incredible. At the same time, I felt thankful that I was Jewish, and simultaneously immersed in my tradition. IJCC has opened my eyes—now I see that I must truly live each day to its maximum potential. I used to just let the days pass me by; now I cherish each one. I am so thankful that I have had this chance to learn from others, and to connect my Judaism with these vivid memories of Ghana.
