Poverty

Growing up middle class I never knew of this word. I never knew of it until I took Geography form Ms. Bradfield at Midvale Middle School in 9th grade. I wrote a paper on the "Poverty Cycle" and how it not only effects the current generation in poverty, but many generations in poverty to come. How it won't cease to end, without education, and without proper knowledge and guidance.

My brain then tends to diverge into why I was born here in America, and why I wasn't born in a third world country where poverty is predominant. I do not have an answer, I don't think I ever will.

My boyfriend, Abraham is from Ghana. He's only talked briefly about some experiences there. Most if not all have been good. He has never talked down on his Home Country. As I read this book by a woman from America that lived in Togo (a country in Africa) whom also has traveled to Ghana quite often. I start to see trends in his actions, ideas, and words with what she talks about.

They are loving people who would share their meal with you, even if they didn't have enough. She talks about how it's a very poor country, but you don't have to worry about pick-picketers much. She said Ghanaian people will do anything and everything for money. Seeing as how there are no jobs she always carries cedi notes with her and always tips at least two cedi's to people that help her even with the tiniest of things. Which is approx. $1.74 American, she said. Most are prideful and will not beg for money. Tourists which are pretty rare are where their money really comes to them. But, the y are too poor a country for many people to want to go there. I cannot wait for the rich culture and to just realize that there is much more to life when I go there. I can sit here at my computer and say it, and read about it, and imagine how great a place it is. But, I can't wait to experience it. The smiles, laughter, the happiness is what I crave. Ghanaian time, being late (by hours) because of traffic. Having a set schedule, but being alright with that schedule changing. Getting out of my American mind and throwing myself into something I've never experienced before.

Is it so disgusting that I crave to venture around the slave fortresses? I think this is where my white-guilt comes into play. I want to love them and apologize, though it wasn't my doing. This is a place that will almost be too strong for me to handle. I try reading up on it. I want to be prepared, but not many people write about it and when they do it isn't described much. They, the writers of books and articles on it say you must encounter it on your own. For this, I cannot wait.

In the end your wealth shouldn't define you. With that being said I think we need to go back to the "olden-days" which for some of you reading this aren't so olden. When credit wasn't on a plastic card. When love wasn't shown by money. When a hand-shake was what it took. I know I'll never get that in America. Good thing I've learned of a place where this is possible. Where everyone around you is on your side, and you don't have to constantly look over your shoulder. Ghana <3