Goodbye, Sweat Rag: Mainstream Beauty Revisited

We're going to sidestep from my reflections on South Africa and Swaziland. Right now I would rather talk about how pretty I felt this New Year's Eve.

Since returning to the states after almost two years on "The Dark Continent," I've felt attractive again. That is, attractive in the sense of no longer exuding the scent of toxic bug spray every night and sweating profusely from every pore, two disadvantages of living in malaria-riddled sub-Saharan Africa.

While living in Ghana my "essential beauty tool" I couldn't leave the house without was a handkerchief. Oh, yes, I had quite the mighty collection of sweat rags. Actually, I wouldn't even call my sweat rags a beauty tool - they were more like a basic work supply. I could survive a day at work without one, but I wouldn't have been in my element. My sweat rags granted me the ability to concentrate, while also helping Ghanaians to take me more seriously. Because nothing in one's physical appearance gives away "I'm not from West Africa and will always be an outsider" more than dripping in sweat over peeling burnt skin inflamed by mosquito bites.

Now that I am back home in the U.S., I cannot say I would readily revert back to constantly looking moist and feeling slippery. I do miss the exotic inconvenience of every bit of exposed skin being covered in red dust and dirt at the end of my days; yet, adapt as I tried, it still didn't fit my standards of "pretty" or even "comfortable."

I spent this recent New Year's Eve in my hometown, Omaha, Nebraska. It was the first big event I've been to since being back in America for two months. To my delight, besides hours of sweaty high-energy dancing, no outside interference converted my appearance. Not heat, rain, humidity, mosquitos or sickness. I took a laughable amount of time to get ready for the evening, but I enjoyed every minute.

I'm grateful for my year-and-a-half hiatus from hair products and tools, heels, perfume, make-up, fancy dresses and other beauty enhancers. Although I have a limitless tolerance for discomfort; for instance, squatting on a ledge to urinate into a hole in the ground in a doorless, ceilingless public urinal under the scorching sun, I realized I'm still a girly girl in the end. I guess some things never change – every once in a while it's fun to try (really hard) to look extra pretty. Oh, so pretty.

Happy 2012!

Leaving Ghana and "How It Was"

Somehow, leaving Ghana was less painful than anticipated. I was ready for my next chapter. I left knowing I will return some day, and Ghana will be waiting with welcoming arms. 

Leaving the Ghanaians I had grown close to however, well, that was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I was bursting into sporadic fits of tears the entire week before my departure. Sometimes a mere glance from a Ghanaian friend - a stranger, even - would cause me terrible distress. I sobbed the entire second half of the last drumming and dance performance of the cultural group that had become my brothers and sisters. If that wasn't theatric enough, I left the performance early - ran up the stage's steps (dramatically, the only exit), past the Cape Coast Slave Castle and into the night, raw as an open wound.

What saddened me most was the idea that every relationship I made in Ghana would never again be as I know it now. When I return to Ghana we will all have changed. I'm not opposed to change, but the concept of "how it was" is sacred to me. Leaving my Ghanaian community was like waking up too soon from a good dream. You have the mental power, the imagination to finish it however you want, but you would rather find the happy ending by returning to the dream. You go back to sleep and try to continue the good dream, but you can't. 

"How it was" has reshaped me, and now it will be only a memory.

After completing my work in Ghana in September 2011, I finished my 14-month adventure in Cape Coast with the annual "Oguaa Fetu Afahye," or Cape Coast Festival.

Before I left Ghana I learned the organization I worked for was planning to open a site in Cape Town, South Africa. I offered to help set up the site, knowing that I would be visiting the country anyway. So, in September and October I spent a weekend in Johannesburg, a week in Durban, a week around Mbabane, Swaziland (and was stranded there because of the public transportation drivers' riots), and four weeks in Cape Town.

In Cape Town I was contracted by my former employer to meet with local businesses to lay the foundation for the new nongovernmental organization office. I met with over one dozen community partners and set up the projects, accommodation and excursions. The site officially opens in January 2012. It was such a cool experience to network and search for potential business partners in Cape Town and hear about what these innovative enterprises do.

I fell in love with Cape Town, Durban and South Africa's complicated social and political history. Swaziland was also a fascinating country with interesting political history, being the last absolute monarchy in the southern hemisphere. I would love to return some day and spend more time there.

Update:  I actually did end up returning to Swaziland two months after this post. I was hired by a responsible tourism company and lived and worked there for about one year.