My Obsession with Food

“Slow Food aims to be everything fast food is not. It's slow — in the making and the eating. It's fresh — not processed. It's from neighborhood farms and stores — not from industrial growers such as Tyson Foods … or retail goliaths such as Wal-Mart ”-Hopkins

My past seven months have been completely revolved around food--not surprising for those of you who know my family.

But it has been different from my usual planning meals weeks in advance…hah

I want to know where my food comes from: Who is making it? Who is selling it? Who is benefiting from it?

There is no doubt that my love for Root Capital (an agricultural investing company) and fair trade companies like Taza Chocolate had a part in my curiosity.

But in January, I met someone and his obsession with farm to fork challenged me to learn more.

We started cooking together every night and slowly his habits rubbed off on me.

No more Shaws, only Whole Foods and farms.

No more chicken breasts, only whole chickens.

No more boxed processed food, but perishable food grown in New England.

At first I felt a little stuck up, but the more I read about Slow Food, the more I realized the benefits it had on our local economy, health, and environment.

7 months later, I’m hooked but there is still something that weighs on my mind…International Trade & Development (typical I know)

If we start buying local, what does that do to the farmers in developing countries trying to export their goods to the United States?

By eating locally grown food I am valuing my local economy over developing economies abroad and to be honest, I don’t know that we are the ones who need it most.

I advocate for agricultural development and free markets but then put up boundaries that harm these workers.

Some argue that by saving the environment we are protecting those farmers’ crops from climate change so it balances out, but I can’t get over the feeling that we are taking their market and opportunity away.

Even more people claim that the farmers in those countries never receive the economic benefit and it gets taken by the middleman, but I know that Root Capital partners with cooperatives that are receiving that benefit and thriving!

I haven’t found an answer.

I wrote a research paper on the topic and read article after article hoping I would find the missing puzzle piece but I’m still looking. Nothing is black and white.

The bottom line is that our choices as consumers have an affect on producers all over the world…even more that I expected.

I’m trying to find a balance of eating locally and buying organic internationally, but its not always easy.

I am grateful that I am now a conscious consumer but as they say: ignorance is bliss.

Homesick for a place I cannot go

“I need Africa more than Africa needs me”

I have been struggling these past few days. There is an ache for Ghana that I just cannot satisfy. It’s the kind of ache that has taken over my whole body and won’t let go.

I’ve spent the last 8 months since I was there making a plan; a plan to be successful-to learn and grow. I have been making a plan to not fall into the inefficient patterns of non-profit organizations but to learn the best business practices to make and measure my impact.

But my plan has lead me to a very different place than I expected: co-op in Boston, classes for six months, GMAT, graduating in December, professional job for 2 years, MBA program for two years…and then get started. But how did I forget to put Ghana in the plan? When did I all of a sudden have a five-year plan that excluded Ghana?

I know that this is what I need to do. I know that in order to be someone capable of creating change, I need to do this; it is just much harder than I thought.

I am putting my life in Ghana on hold and there is no saying what will change there while I am away. There is no saying who I will see again and who will have moved on.

And there is no way to explain to the people I love so much why I am not there. The longer I am gone the more they feel like I have forgotten and abandoned them just like the last Obruni.

I can’t call very much anymore; it is just too difficult to hear the questions of when and why. It is hard to live your life with half your heart in another country.

But I have not forgotten. And I will not abandon them.

But for right now, I am simply homesick for a place that I cannot go.

Easily Fooled

I have been in South Africa for almost two weeks now and it is completely different than anything I have ever experienced.

I was swept off my feet by the beauty of this country...and how easily I was fooled.

Cape Town is the most breathtaking city I have ever been in. In fact, it is so amazing that it manages to cover all the flaws and struggles of the people living here.

No where in the sunsets, ocean, mountains, Long street, music, or cute coastal shops do you see the blemishes.

No where in those things do you see the violence that tore and is tearing apart the lives of its citizens.

No where in those things do you see that out of the whole world, the largest population of people living with AIDS is here.

No where in these places do you see the townships and poverty of millions of colored and blacks that were second class citizens for decades.

Even the clothes worn outside the township act as a mask for the tin shack the person lives in back inside the township- sometimes without running water and electricity.

How easy it is to travel here and never see the truth and how lucky I am to be shown the real South Africa.

This is not the Dominican Republic where the racism sits on the surface of every aspect of life. It is not Ghana where the city still lacks visible infrastructure like closed sewers.

No, not here. In South Africa it is all separated...poverty from the wealth and beauty. Then again...that's how it was planned.

While they may have come a long way, the word apartheid has never been more real to me...separated.

Yes I know, I am in the Dominican Republic...not Ghana

Today we drove 6 hours to the border of Haiti. It is now 10 hours later and I am still speechless.

I sat in our bus gazing out the windows, unable to say a word. Right in front of me stood the mountain that separated the Dominican Republic from Haiti. Everything I had read about became reality.

The 500 yards approaching the border are completely barren. There is a skinny path of gravel for vehicles to drive on but surrounding the path are once homes now completely flooded. Only the roof-tops are visible, peaking out of the water.

Once at the border there are two gates. The first gate you step through takes you to no-mans land. The second gate crosses you into Haiti. There is a market that stands between the two gates. Once you enter no-mans land you are in a completely anarchic existence where no one can protect you.

We were warned of the risk and danger that we would be putting ourselves in if we chose to enter no-mans land but were given the choice to decide. For those of us interested in crossing into no-mans land we would be given one armed Dominican police officer with no official authority once between the two gates.

I chose to cross through into no-mans land. I needed to feel the fear that these people feel everyday.

While Haiti is not no-mans land, the level of security seems relatively the same. Imagine living in a failed state...one where not even the police can protect you; living in a city where 450 gangsters roam the streets due to a collapsed prison.

I did not even spend 10 seconds in no-mans land before turning back and heading for the bus. My heart was in my throat.

I was able to get back on the bus, turn around, and drive away from that insecurity. I get to leave these places whenever I choose. But every time I leave, I know that I leave people behind that are trapped there.

Nothing can explain standing in front of the border, knowing that right through the second gate there is a place so forsaken it seems hopeless.

Haiti was in arms reach of me today but I was not able to do anything. I drove away from the faces of Haitians that are all too similar to those faces of Ghanaians reminding me that they were never supposed to be there to begin with...they were forced.

It is not fair.


Jimani is where we were.

A Blessing

May God bless you with discomfort. Discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger. Anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears. Tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain into joy.

May God bless you with foolishness. Enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God, who creates, redeems and sanctifies, be upon you and all you love and pray for this day, and forever more. Amen

1,095 Days Later

It was 3 years ago today that I first left for Ghana.

Due to some complications I am not back in Ghana as originally planned. I am still searching for the reason why. I have been needing to write lately but haven't done it and I thought this would be as good of a time as any.

Lately it has been easier not to talk about Ghana. Because when I finally do, it seems like too much to handle.

My heart reaches emotional capacity and all my feelings of love, anger, frustration, joy, and sadness seem to surface. The lump in my throat returns and I know that I could sit and cry for hours if I allowed myself to.

But they wouldn't be tears of sadness. They would be tears of fear, anxiety, determination, passion, and love.

I see what I want to become and I am running towards that but there are times when it seems just out of reach...I never have been much of a runner.

Is it possible that I am too selfish of a person to become who I want to be?

I don't want to just leave a dent, I want to change the world. A dent is not enough, a dent means that I did not try hard enough, that I was too selfish.

I am reading "Mountains Beyond Mountains" right now about Paul Farmer and there are so many things that I relate to. I want to jump through the pages of the book and ask Dr. Farmer, "Wait! How did you get past that? How do you deal with that? How did you make that decision?!" I read that he struggled with some of the same things that I am struggling with, but it doesn't explain how he got past those things, they are just little blurbs in the midst of his successes.

But even though I don't have those answers, I am encouraged, because I know that I am not the first one to feel this way, and I certainly will not be the last. I will overcome these struggles.

I will strive to be selfless. I am striving to be selfless.

Beauty in this World.

I am home-this will be my final blog post for awhile (until I am back in Ghana)

Coming home this year was different, not easier, but different.

I still cried uncontrollably the entire way home-I let out six months of pent up emotions in one plane ride. I cried so hard and for so long that for two days after coming home my eyes were red and swollen. Its no wonder that the woman who originally told me check-in was closed for my flight from NYC to Chicago quickly changed her mind and told me to run for it. (I'm worried I might be blacklisted as a security threat on Delta)

But I landed in Chicago and my best friend was there to pick me up at the airport...I reached home where my parents were not supposed to be but my mom was waiting inside...the following day my dad cut his traveling short and flew home to see me...that same day my friend Max had a BBQ at his house with our other friends so that I wouldn't have to watch the Ghana vs. US match alone...and it continues...

People all over this country were waiting for me to arrive, waiting to hug me, waiting to support me with something that they know I struggle with.

But I also had a changed attitude.

During the past 2 years I have lost 5 people in my life. I have seen that my time here is not guaranteed. I've learned the importance of life the painful way, but I am glad I learned it.

I've realized that being angry with family and friends back home doesn't make me miss Ghana any less...but that instead, loving them and living life with them brings a happiness that can over-power even some of the hardest days.

I have seen that me coming back home safe is an amazing blessing. Just last week, I heard about the death of Nate Henn, a 25 year old American who was working with Invisible Children in Uganda. He was killed from terrorist bombings while watching the World Cup with local friends and children he mentors.

I acknowledge the burden I place on my family and close friends when I live in Ghana-EVEN if I have just as good of a chance of getting killed here.

So while leaving hasn't gotten easier, I've learned how to live here and be happy with where I am when I am there.


Today is the two year anniversary of the death of Adam Schatz, my should-be uncle. He was 26 years old when he was taken off life support a week after a karting accident.

So it is with Adam, Nate, and the other 4 people I have lost that I quote "From now on, for you, I'll be searching for those moments of always within never. Beauty, in this world."

The good news? I think I am finding that beauty.