VOX: The Voice of Our Generation

Ashley’s words really soaked into my brain. Is she right? Oh jeez, what am I going to do? I thought. Although I was reluctant to begin my journey to Ghana, West Africa with my 38 classmates and 12 chaperones, this journey ended up being one of the best experiences of my life.

For a typical class trip in Atlanta, most teens are likely to visit Stone Mountain Park, the Georgia Aquarium, and if they get lucky, maybe Savannah. However, my classmates and I at KIPP WAYS Academy, in southwest Atlanta, wanted more. We were in school from 7:30 a.m. until 5 p.m. every day at our charter school, and we stayed up into the wee hours of the mornings studying and doing homework. We felt we deserved more than a boring field trip to some random park. We wanted to do something unheard of; we wanted to make our mark on the world.

Pitching the Idea
We had been learning about Africa and the history of our ancestors since the seventh grade from our world history teacher, Mr. Edelin. We eighth graders all marveled at the culture and beauty of Africa, but we never thought we’d experience it. At a student meeting one Tuesday we were all throwing out ideas for our class trip. Some of my classmates were suggesting places like Disney World or California; then one of my friends said, “Why not Ghana, West Africa?” We all grabbed onto this idea. Even though none of us had ever been there, we each had our own personal connection to Africa. We all thought maybe, if we visited, we could further those connections.

“You can’t be serious,” our principal, Mr. Jernigan, said when five of my classmates and I first presented him our idea.

“Do you know how much money that would cost?” he practically shouted.

He offered to take us to Disney World in Florida, but we flat out said “No.” My eighth-grade class wanted to take on Africa. Our history teacher, Mr. Edelin, loved our idea. Even though he knew this would take a lot of work, he vowed to do everything he could to get us to Ghana. So, he helped us with the first thing that needed to get done. We had to create a detailed plan of activities we wanted to do in Ghana and an estimate of how much our trip would cost.

Getting Money
If we were going to go to Ghana we had a lot of work to do, and we only had six months to meet our goal. To go to Ghana and stay there comfortably for 10 days, it would cost about $3,000 per kid. Plus, with chaperones and other expenses, our trip would cost more than $115,000. So we did what any group of teens would do to raise money: We sold candy — Twix, Skittles, Starbursts, Snickers and Milky Ways. Each of us sold about 75 pieces of candy for about $1 each.

During winter break, I thought I was doing pretty well with my candy sales (even though I ate a few pieces for free). But little did I know, we had a very long way to go. When I got back to school I realized our class had only made about $2,625. When we discovered that our candy sale didn’t even make a dent in the money we needed to take our trip, we reached out for help.

The first to hear our cries was the V103 radio DJ, Osei “The Dark Secret.” With DJ Osei’s help, we held fund-raising parties and events, and finally, Delta Airlines stepped in with a major boost, agreeing to provide everyone’s plane tickets.

How everything came together may seem like a great little happy miracle that appeared out of thin air, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounds. On Feb. 18 a spokesperson for Delta Airlines came in to speak to us for career day. While talking to her on a side note, my other history teacher, Mr. Jones, told her about our plans to travel to Ghana. She immediately loved our idea and vowed to help us get there some way or another. I thought, Wow, this is really happening. We’re really going to Ghana!

Getting There
I already had my passport and soon, my visa, so all I had to do was pack and get my Yellow Fever shot. I’m not really a big fan of needles, but I had to suck it up and take the shot, because I hadn’t gone that far to get turned around by a tiny needle. After packing, unpacking, repacking and double checking, I was ready to visit the homeland of my ancestors.

All 50 of us — 38 eighth graders, 10 adult chaperones and two camera people — walked into the doors of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport at 6:30 a.m. to head to Africa. My mom walked me to the gate, wished me a safe journey and told me she wished she could come. My mom has been all across Africa (more than 10 times), and she wanted to be with me on my first trip to Ghana.

When we got on the plane and took off, I was so pumped and excited that I didn’t realize we were flying over 27,000 miles. After our layover at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York, we arrived at Mutorula Airport in Ghana. I stepped out of the plane, and it finally dawned on me that we weren’t in Atlanta anymore.

Discovering Ghana
I was greeted by hot, humid air and a few curious natives. One man asked me if I had brought him any American tabloids. I never knew the people there were so interested in the lives of Britney Spears and Paris Hilton, just like we Americans seem to be.

Before we could set off on our journey, we were separated onto the “long bus” and the “short bus.” I was put onto the “long bus” (infamously known for its sleepy passengers), and my best friend was put on the “short bus” (known for the loud singing, yelling and drumming). Throughout our trip, there was a rivalry going on between the two busses. We were fighting to see who could come up with the best song about Ghana. Unfortunately, the short bus won (the long bus slept too much).

During the first two days in Accra, the capital city of Ghana, we saw everything worth seeing. We visited the burial sites of W.E.B. Dubois and that of the first president of Ghana, Kwame Nkrumah, where we learned about how the country g

ained independence from the British in 1957. We also bought beautiful Kente clothes and dresses from an open-air market in the city. Ghana was pleasant — not at all how Ashley described it. The warmth of the sun felt great. The streets weren’t filthy, and I only saw a few flies (not nearly as many as you would see at the Varsity in downtown Atlanta). I also discovered that in Ghana, they eat a lot of chicken and rice, so that’s all we really ate; and trust me, it was delicious. The chicken wasn’t injected and cloned like chicken here in the States, and the rice wasn’t bleached and processed.

Actually, while eating rice and chicken, I met my first Ghanaian friend, Junior. We were sitting outside, eating our food, and Junior walked up to us and introduced himself. We started talking, and we clicked. We exchanged email addresses and Facebook names, and have kept in touch ever since. Junior went to the local private school where my classmates and I were volunteering. The school didn’t have a lot of money for supplies the kids needed to learn. Also, the computers they had were slow. My school donated five brand new computers and bought big boxes of crayons, markers, glue, pencils, pens and paper for us to give to the students.

On our very last day volunteering, the kids at the school threw us a party, and we learned traditional African party songs. We also had a Ghana vs. Atlanta basketball game, which we won, but it was so much fun playing with them.

During the next few days, my classmates and I did a lot of hiking and discovering Ghana’s nature. We hiked up to Wli Waterfall, the largest waterfall in West Africa, and took long, refreshing swims. We also visited the Kakum rainforest, and walked on rope bridges more than 10,000 feet in the air. Mr. Jones was so afraid of the height that he started to curse and cry simultaneously.

For two days we traveled to the town of Elmina to see the dungeons that once held hundreds of thousands of my ancestors before they were shipped off to the Caribbean and the Americas as slaves. At first, I really didn’t want to go inside the Elmina Dungeon because there was too much painful history to deal with at once. After receiving encouragement from my loving friends and building courage in my heart, I decided to enter the dungeon.

The first area of the dungeon we visited was the church. How could there be a church to worship God in such a monstrous place? I wondered. Next, we went into the women’s dungeon where the stench from hundreds of years ago still hung in the air. I was so consumed by anger, sadness and hate.
“How could a people be so evil and self-centered that they would enslave another people just to make a profit?” I started to cry and scream. My friends and I cried and hugged each other as we exited the dungeon. All of us were very quiet and exhausted as we dealt with the weight of the situation.

Going Home
The next day, it was time to prepare to leave. I repacked my stuff and said goodbye to all the new friends I met in Ghana. On the plane ride home, many people chatted and discussed their journey, but I slept during most of the flight because I got sick right before we left.

When I got home I pondered my trip to Ghana. Visiting Africa taught me not to believe what everyone says. I have to see for myself. No longer will I look at Africa with uncertain eyes. I was so proud of my classmates and myself for accomplishing such a difficult feat. Eighth graders at an urban charter school in the heart of the ghetto, worked to raise more than $200,000 to go to Africa.

Our entire experience taught me I could do anything I put my mind to.

Rakhety is a freshman at Grady High. She loves cupcakes.