October 2004

Asana Mohamad • Worlds Apart

It’s nice to be back in Iowa after a wonderful summer in Ghana with family. When we returned to the U.S., I realized how out of touch I’d been with the world. I hadn’t read a single newspaper or heard the news the whole time I was in Ghana. I didn’t know what was going on in Iraq, whether Bush had caught up with Osama, or if J. Lo was still married to Marc Anthony.

But I did know that it was election time in Ghana. Just as in America, elections in Ghana are held every four years. This year, both are taking place at the same time, and during my visit, campaigning was in full swing. Of course, the two countries have very different campaign tactics. U.S. political parties dig up dirt about each other and pay to put their ads on television. Each party promises things that the other party couldn’t possibly deliver: more jobs, tax cuts, free health care.

In Ghana, no one has the time or money for this. In the northern region, people who support a particular party will drum and dance in the market and through the streets, singing the praises of their favored candidate. You can also tell it’s an election year because community improvements magically take place. Years ago, whenever we would travel from Tamale to Nalerigu, the journey would take about five hours on a dirt road pocked with potholes. Now, guess what? About half the road is beautifully paved. The other half is still a dirt road, but wait! It’s an election year! And, lo and behold, the government is finally paving the rest of the road. No one is going to refuse the wonderful developments, and it certainly puts the current government in a good position for re-election.

Now that school has started up again, I smile as I watch freshmen frowning at maps, pointing and gawking, all decked out in black and gold. Like most people here, I, too, have numerous shirts that express my affiliation with Iowa. I took a few of them with me to Ghana and wore them proudly. Imagine how my bubble burst when I stepped out with one that had “Hawkeyes” boldly printed across the chest, only to have a cousin ask, “What are Haw-Keys?”

"Haw-Keys?”

"That’s what your shirt.…”

"HAWKEYES!” I yelled in exasperation. “Because we’re bright and alert and smart like hawks!”

"Oh. Sorry.”

A few days later, I wore an “Iowa” shirt to the market with my sister, Fuseina. On our way home, we passed a man who nodded at me and said,

"Lowa, Lowa! How’s it going?”

I was puzzled. Lowa? That’s not my name.

"What is he talking about?” Fuseina whispered.

We walked for another five minutes before it dawned on me. “Iowa!” I shouted, starting to laugh. “My shirt! He was reading it, and he thought it said ‘Lowa.’ It’s ‘Iowa!’”

Oh, well, now they know.