Ghanaians carrying the weight of a continent

By Timothy Pratt (contact)

Friday, June 23, 2006 | 7:15 a.m.

A squealing, leaping and clapping James Odei survived Ghana's 2-1 World Cup victory over the U.S. Thursday morning, certain his dreams were coming true.

"It's perfect," he said. "I always dreamed I would come here as a student. And I always wanted to see my country in the World Cup. I just didn't think it was going to happen so soon."

Odei had witnessed the do-or-die match with fellow Ghanaians, roommate Jordan Crabbe and friend Ekow Adentwi. His second-floor walk-up, near UNLV, is a few blocks from the Crown and Anchor pub, which was jammed with U.S. fans and two television news trucks.

But Odei and his buddies were keeping each other company. They are among the several hundred Ghanaians who call the Las Vegas Valley home .

Several thousand Africans locally were also looking to Odei's team, because Ghana was the only African country with a chance to advance to the World Cup's Round of 16. The team was "playing for an entire continent," as one Ghanaian Web site put it.

Odei, 30, had been building up to this moment for years.

In 2003, he had finished his undergraduate studies in Kumasi, Ghana, worked four years in his family's commercial fishing business and decided, "before age catches up on me," to apply to U.S. graduate schools.

He wanted to study statistics, and applied to UCLA, Stanford and a few other large universities. None replied. One of his professors told him he had heard there were a few Ghanaians studying in Nevada.

"I went online and saw UNR and UNLV. I hadn't heard of Reno, but Las Vegas is famous all over the world. So I applied to UNLV," Odei recalled. He had missed a deadline for the following academic year, he said, "but sometimes things are supposed to happen."

He was accepted, got a scholarship and came here - only to find that the Ghanaian students he had been told about were in Reno.

But once again, fate - and a fellow countryman - favored the wiry graduate student. After several days at a Howard Johnson's motel, and almost out of cash, Odei asked university staff whether there were other students from his country.

"I got here, I'm stuck - the only thing I could do is look for a Ghanaian," he said.

He found one - a mechanical engineering student named Kofi Cobbinah. An offer to let Odei stay the weekend led to a friendship and a shared apartment.

Two years later, Cobbinah graduated and moved to Oregon. But math major Crabbe arrived, and together with Odei and Adentwi, a film student, they have become a trio, particularly since the month-long World Cup started June 9.

Four other African nations - Tunisia, Ivory Coast, Togo and Angola - started the 32-team World Cup, with all but Tunisia first-timers. The valley is home to a few hundred to a few thousand natives from each of those countries and other African nations. So, unlike some other immigrant populations in the valley, who have been cheering their homelands at bars, cafes and restaurants around town, most Africans have been watching the World Cup at home.

The U.S. Census Bureau and locals alike say Ethiopians are the largest African community in the valley - with 1,640 claiming birth in the North African country, according to a 2004 census survey. That community has four restaurants and a church, and many of the men work driving taxis.

George Ossavou, director of the African Community Center, an agency that helps immigrants settle in the valley, said many Ethiopians, Eritreans and Sierra Leoneans come to Southern Nevada as refugees from war or famine.

The 2004 census survey also estimates there are 1,000 natives of South Africa in Southern Nevada. All other countries are estimated at less than a thousand each, though the Nigerians in town have formed an association and publish a quarterly newsletter. The Senegalese are also planning to form an association, as are some Ghanaians. The census survey estimates local Ghanaians at zero, by the way.

Though Ossavou and others said that different African cultures tend to form alliances along the lines of country or language, or even religion, in the U.S., some of those divisions disappear.

On Wednesday, at Varney Fofana's store on West Charleston Boulevard, customers came through from Sierra Leone, Cameroon and Nigeria. Fofana is from Liberia, though his father is Nigerian. Sitting on the shelves of his crowded store are 50-pound sacks of brown beans from Lagos, Nigeria, 1.32-gallon jars of red palm oil from Ghana, and malt soda made by Guinness.

Fofana spoke for many African soccer fans: "Our only hope is Ghana."

Later that night, Odei's girlfriend Freda sent a text message from Ghana to his cell phone, telling him to pray for the Black Stars, Ghana's team.

Thursday morning at 6:45, Odei was limbering up in his living room.

"I slept all right. I feel good about this match," he said, as if he were about to jog onto the pitch.

Twenty-one minutes into the mix, Odei and Crabbe were leaping in the air, celebrating Ghana's first goal. Crabbe, who had been nervously lifting his wristwatch every few minutes in a countdown to his 9 a.m. class, pulled a card from his pocket and grabbed for the phone. It was one of the ubiquitous phone cards immigrants use to buy $5 worth of lifeline at a time.

"I have to call my people!" he said.

"That's what we do," Odei explained.

Laughter from both followed and shouts in their native language, called Ga. "We are jubilating," Crabbe said, referring to himself, Odei and people in Ghana. He and Odei equated the game with a national holiday, saying most Ghanaians either left work early or took the day off.

Later, the score even at 1-1, two minutes into extra time at the close of the first half and following a controversial call against the U.S., Ghana captain Stephen Appiah sent the ball careening into the net.

After the cheers died down, Crabbe said he grew up in the same neighborhood as Appiah in Ghana's capital city of Accra.

"He played since he was an infant," Crabbe said of Appiah. "He stopped going to school altogether when he was about 12. I had a different destiny. Now he's rich."

More laughter.

Crabbe soon ran out, almost late to class. Adentwi showed up, from his house down the street. He and Odei sweated for 45 more minutes, hoping the good news for 19 million Ghanians would last.

It did.

And Odei's dream?

"It's all coming together."