Dan Lawton : Journalist

I am sitting in the fourth seat of a commuter van in Accra, Ghana, where I have fallen into a half conscious stupor.  My silver dress shirt is caked with sweat and my khaki slacks covered in dirt and mud from the cascades of  torrential rain that occurred earlier. My neck and head lie loose, my eyes open just enough to witness the blur of faces wash by the window.  As the van dashes down the shoulder and navigates hawkers, animals, shacks and great massive mounds of dirt, my body becomes synchronous with its motion.  Each jerk of the vehicle causes my head to undulate and sway.

This is how I have I have spent the end of each day during the last week while conducting a reporting internship with the Accra Daily Mail.  It has been, to say the least, quite an adjustment from reporting in the U.S.  The heat is brutal, the rain bludgeoning and the administrative factions of government generally unresponsive to media query. But, what it lacks in creature comforts, it makes up for with novelty.  I am a journalist in Africa.  What could be more lovely than that?  It is a sweet, languorous existence, and I feel fortunate to be able to temporarily trade it for the hectic nature of writing in the West.

However, I must confess that I am somewhat leading a double life.

My column on political diversity printed in the Christian Science Monitor has initiated a firestorm of commentary, traffic and media requests.  I was on Lou Dobb’s radio show yesterday and FOX News is one of the many news outlets plastered through my in-box.  I have received approximately 300 emails–my address isn‘t even on the column–and most of them have contained effusive support . My blog is filled with new comments and subscribers and I have dozens upon dozens of Facebook friend requests. Suddenly, editors are writing  me instead of me desperately querying them.

It’s a bizarre and frenetic moment.  I guess this goes with the territory, but the deluge of publicity and praise feels burdensome from West Africa.  I just don’t have much motivation to Twitter here.  I don’t have much of a desire to speak with Bill O’Reilly either, although the concept of  bloviating with him from afar does appeal a bit to my inner ego.

In fact, I am a bit stressed over the whole scenario. One moment I’m in downtown Accra wading through chaos of the bus station and two hours later I’m beamed back across the ocean via cell phone to speak to Lou Dobbs. I’ve considered hiring a black magic priest to tranquilize my email inbox or possibly conduct a ritual sacrifice of my laptop to the gods.

Regardless of my mild discontent at all this attention, there’s no better feeling than having your work appreciated by so many people and knowing that it made a difference.  The lack of political diversity on college campuses is a big problem and I hope my column has incited some dialogue and opened some eyes.  The feedback I have received has been impressively sharp.  Much of it has been from those who have had similar experiences as students in the past.

I am a bit relieved, though, that I have the bulk of this continent to shield me from the media crush.  Everyone seems to want a piece of me at the moment, while all I want to do is disappear into the thrashing chaos of Accra.