Discover A Teaching Odyssey in Ghana, West Africa

By Susan Jacobs

An Intensive Kundalini Yoga Teacher-Training Odyssey in Ghana , West Africa

The story of my experience in the six-week Kundalini Yoga intensive teacher training program in Ghana, Africa begins with the circuitous path that led me there. Although I've been practicing various styles of yoga for twenty-five years, my introduction to Kundalini Yoga came with Gurmukh Kaur at Golden Bridge in Los Angeles in 2000. Eagerly positioning myself in the front of the class, the physical, mental, and emotional challenge that followed was mind-and-body-bending. Within minutes, I felt the profound and life-altering effects of Kundalini Yoga and knew that I was hooked.

Fast-forward four years to Costa Rica where at a retreat I met Krishna Kaur, also based in Los Angeles, who invited us to Africa for her upcoming six-week teacher training course the following January. I had always wanted to go to Africa, but six weeks seemed impossible while holding down a job. During a meditation, though, it became clear that I must go. This would be my longest time spent away from the comforts of home. Travel warnings from the Center for Disease Control and World Health Organization could dissuade one from a trip to Africa, so some precautions seemed wise. Except for the required Yellow Fever shot, I chose homeopathic remedies against malaria, hepatitis A, typhoid, and any possible stomach ailment. Concerned friends and family bombarded me with their advice and fears. "Don't touch your face, get anti-everything wipes." "Don't drink the water. Use a purifier even for bottled water." "It's too dangerous to go out alone." "Don't have sex, even with condoms." "Do whatever your teacher tells you." You'd think I was fifteen and not a grown woman.

On January 19, 2005, following a fourteen-hour journey that included transporting a world-famous perishable cheesecake from Junior's in Brooklyn that was requested by an African colleague (who would later save my life), I arrived in Accra, Ghana. Stepping off the plane at 11:00 p.m., the heat was so intense I could scarcely breathe, but I felt I'd come home. Struggling to protect the cheesecake and managemy luggage, I exited the airport and was greeted by Krishna and a few members of what would soon become my new African family.

Our eclectic group from the States consisted of twin Sikh brothers raised in ashrams who had practiced yoga forever, a truck driver from Chicago who had never taken a class, a program coordinator, and Krishna.

Now picture living and training in these conditions: Our six-bedroom/five-bathroom house was unfurnished except for beds and fans, had no airconditioning, and most windows were screenless so it was infested with mosquitoes. The heat was unbearable — one night at midnight it was over ninety degrees inside the house. The mosquitoes were so intense that when we opened the refrigerator door swarms flew out. Perhaps the heat was too much for them too. After a short time, this all seemed normal and we forgot about the comforts we were missing.

Most of our time was spent sitting on hard, marble floors — meals, classes, relaxing — all on the floor. Keeping the house clean was a challenge as we'd arrived at the tail end of Harmattan, Ghana's windstorm season. We constantly swept, mopped, and dusted everything. The first night Krishna advised us to 'make friends' with the bugs in our rooms so they'd leave us alone. These included geckos (small lizards), mosquitoes, water bugs, and spiders. I was fine with the lizards and spiders—one spider spent five weeks living on one side of my bedroom staring at me. I stared back. The only way to escape the heat was to sleep with the fan blowing directly on oneself. The mosquito netting was cocoon-like and somewhat comforting.

Now picture six virtual strangers living together with conflicting eating habits, personalities, and life experiences. It was MTV's the Real World meets Gilligan's Island. We were trapped, non-conforming, non-compromising, self-oriented individuals with strong egos and attitudes who clashed with one another. Krishna gave us space to settle but when it became clear that, as a group, we were dysfunctional, she insisted the 4:00 a.m. sadhana practice begin. At first we grumbled but soon realized thi sbegan to unite us. Egos started to release, attitudes improved, and we started to feel better. From that point on, we were able to turn the house into a sacred ashram space for the training.

Soon twenty-two Ghanaians miraculously found us either through church groups, flyers, or word-of-mouth. Students came with names like Peace, Humble,and Patience, that perfectly reflected their human spirit. Most of them came with no yoga experience but we shared the same goal: to improve ourselves and help others through the search for truth.

We met for the first time at Reverend Dr. Sasu's ministry, where he welcomed us with love. He later told me that everyone in the world should visit Ghana to learn manners and politeness, and he was right. Our African classmates are that and much more: selfless, hardworking, generous, and non-complaining. I remain deeply touched by the spirit and generosity of those with nothing to offer but their kindness and love. They helped me see my selfishness, my ego, and
all that I take for granted. During an intense Sat Kriya* practice one day, I decided that I didn't want to be that person anymore. Yogi Bhajan speaks of grace. These un-yoga-trained Ghanaians define the words 'grace' and 'human being.' The gratitude they had for us was profound, as was their appreciation for our group venturing so far to be with them.

One day an African student, Zutu, looked at me and said, "Auntie Susan, shine your eyes." I just loved everything about that comment and especially the twinkle that was in his eyes when he said it. It rocked our group, and we all tried to claim ownership of it for use once we returned home. It became an endearing way to remind each other of our united purpose in Africa.

I was the only white person in sight for weeks at a time and that was very humbling. Being a racial minority for the first time was strange, refreshing, and enlightening, something every white person should experience. On my walks in the street I was called Obruni, an endearing term for white, or foreigner. Kids laughed and pointed at me and wanted to touch my skin. At the largest outdoor marketplace in West Africa, I was like Madonna walking through the streets of
New York being followed by adoring teenagers. The attention was embarrassing.

It was impossible not to be touched by the prevailing spirit and it was difficult not to feel deeply the inequalities of the world. The thought of leaving Africa to go back to America was unbearable. Continuing to describe the people, the place, and my overall experience needs the space of a book. But let me say that I did learn to negotiate African style—I shopped in huge open markets and had quirky experiences changing money. I visited schools, spoke to the athletes about health and diet, had six marriage proposals, took drum lessons under the stars, met with tribal chiefs and taught them yoga, and heard that the chiefs are curing AIDS with herbs but no one in the West wants to hear about it.

Now I'll focus on the additional challenges we faced doing an intense training in a foreign country. Added to the heat, mosquitoes, and communal living with difficult personalities, I got severe malaria and was near death on the tenth day of the trip. My blessing from the Universe came in the form of the man to whom I delivered the cheesecake, the Reverend Dr. Sasu, a world-renowned Ayurvedic doctor. He put me on a strong herbal program that knocked the
malaria out in two days. I never missed a class. As an American, I was terrified to get sick in a third world country but this experience was fortunate, as it allayed my fears. In a few weeks I had the strength to do yoga again. I felt renewed and truly grateful to be alive. Shortly, four Africans in the class got malaria too. During this time I was unable to do sadhana, I felt disconnected from the group and saw how connecting and powerful the practice is.

My challenges:

• We covered 160 classroom hours in thirty-two days. The manuals, which were sent from the States at the beginning of December, never arrived. Much time was spent running around Accra trying to keep up with photocopying the appropriate pages for each class. Needless to say, Kinko's was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
• There was no time or space to study and digest the materials. Time not spent in class was used to explore, shop, and visit with our new friends.
  
  
• An unavoidable personality transformation took place thanks to the tireless efforts of Krishna. With so much yoga, meditation, communal living and the power of the Africans, it was impossible not to see how much energy I wasted on nonsense, whining, and complaining. To this day, I continue to strive to embody grace.
  

I want to return to Africa. I want to absorb more of the spirit of the people. I want to live a more simple, uncluttered, peaceful life, away from all the artificiality of life in America. Living for six weeks under the wise and watchful eye of my teacher has strengthened my commitment to reach those goals.

Krishna's mission is to bring Kundalini Yoga teacher training throughout the Diaspora. I urge everyone to seize the opportunity to join her. Africa is now in my blood and I plan to return in the very near future.

In addition to teaching Kundalini Yoga, Susan Jacobs is a Pilates instructor and Shiatsu massage therapist. She recently launched Holistic Life Management, which creates customized holistic healing programs for clients, and Experience Health, an innovative system of experiential corporate Holistic Health Fairs. She's also a freelance writer and lives in Brooklyn.