Aging Gracefully

As I wrote this entry I was seated on the deck of a cruise ship off the coast of Chile.  I am not sure how this trip came about or really how I became a part of it, but I blindly agreed to join as I prepared to leave Ghana.  I knew nothing of the details, but couldn’t pass up the chance to travel Argentina, Uruguay and Chile for a month.  As details arose it quickly became evident that this trip wouldn’t be about the places I would see, but instead the people I would spend time with along the way. 

Myself and nine others arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina on the morning of December 28^th and left from Santiago, Chile on January 18^th.   Our journey took us from Argentina to Uruguay back to Argentina then around the cape to Chile.  The group ranged in age from 28-62 years my senior.  Nope, that isn’t a typo.  We were quite the group.  There were ten of us in all, but only three main characters, all of which are well-traveled elderly women.  To say the least they broke the mold with these characters.  For the sake of confidentiality I have chosen to refer to these individuals as Left Brain, Right Brain and No Brain. 

I saw penguins, seals and birds of all kinds.  I photographed fjords, glaciers and waterfalls.  I hiked bogs and mountains, strolled the streets of large cities and quant little towns, and eat at amazing restaurants.  But, none of it was as memorable as the BRAINS.  Left Brian is an outgoing California transplant living in Kentucky.  Her colorful style and relentless compassion make her a fun and loveable character.  On the other hand, Right Brain is a bit more reserved.  As an 84-year old California real estate tycoon, she enthusiastically travels the world with an analytical eye.  No Brain is a Kentucky native with a creative flare, comedic value and a tendency to imagine unfathomable tragedy.  She may be brainless, but she couldn’t have a bigger heart.  Though the others don’t play prominent roles in this blog, they were full of personality too.  From this age differentiation I learned a tremendous amount about being, with all due respect, OLD.  I will pass along a few of those lessons now.

      

Lesson One - Old people do what they want.

Before we had even left the Lexington airport rule number one was evident.  We had already cut the check-in line, snuck into the Delta Lounge and boarded the plane late.  They also get three Biscoff cookies on the plane instead of one like everyone else.  Old people go in whatever line they want even if they are in Argentine customs and the sign says “Residents of Argentina ONLY”.    

To top it off they don’t follow pedestrian rules.  Who would want to walk straight down the street when you can zigzag and stop in the middle of everything?  Left Brain window shops with tunnel vision and in Montevideo I found Right Brain dancing to techno in the street outside a punk skate shop.  Who would want to hold on to their bags so they aren’t snatched?   Not them.  They walk across the street whenever they want and miraculously traffic stops.  Right Brain even went as far as asking a traffic officer to move from his position in the middle of a busy street so that she could take a picture from where he was standing.  As traffic wised around her she calmly captured images while the officer struggled to keep her safe.  The list goes on, each incident more laughable than the last.  I can’t wait to be an old rebel rule breaker.     

Lesson Two- Old people wear what they want.

There is one stipulation to this rule.  It must be black or white.  Right Brain wears white pants with a black and white top everyday accessorized with face swallowing black sun glasses, a bedazzled black Ed Hardy hat, three massive rings, at least three bracelets and ear rings.  Left Brain wears glasses with one square and one circle frame while No Brain wears triangle glasses.  No Brain also sports tights with some sort of tunic or skirt everyday.  I must say it makes shopping a breeze.  The only decision is black or white.  Who needs the rest of the color wheel? 

Lesson Three- Old People say what they want.

            Negative or positive they just said it.  This lesson became apparent at an evening Tango show in Buenos Aires.  We sat in a cramped dim theatre as a busy wait staff served up food reminiscent of the airplane food we had choked down the prior evening.  No Brain was quick to let the staff know about her distaste and insist that to keep her quiet they needed to give her all the red wine she wanted.  They complied with her demands and she was nodding off in her chair the rest of the evening.    

The Brains are always ready to extend a compliment, particularly to men in uniform; Doormen, waiters, officers and tour guides.   Leave no young man un-hit on.  Their target wasn’t always male.  At the tango show, the peanut gallery let them know how great the performance was.  In an intense moment, Left Brain shouted out over the crowd, “ Would you look at her knockers! I want her body.”  Hooting from Right Brain shortly followed.  All I heard about the rest of the evening was how the Brains were going to exercise and eat right to get a body like the tango star.    

Additionally, the Brains can strike up a conversation with anyone.  No Brain is particularly gifted at this.  For example, she told our waiter he looked like Obama, ask the captain about pirates and stole triangle tea bags off other tables to initiate conversation.  I was always amazed at what came out of their mouths.    

Lesson Four- It’s okay to fall as long as you get up.

Two traumatic tumbles and a plane crash led to this more serious conclusion.  The first of which was less graceful, but more laughable.  Left Brain fell over a parking post outside a market in Buenos Aires as she ate a granola bar.  Three lurches forward and a face plant later she only had two concerns. Where is the granola bar and were her glasses broken?    After dusting herself off she proclaimed that bruises are better than breaks and walked back to the ship.   

The second fall was more graceful, but much less laughable.  Right Brain caught the toe of her shoe on the sidewalk one block from the ship in the beach resort town of Punta Del Esta, Uruguay.  After her short flight she lay face down on the concrete.  I assumed the worst, but with assistance she rolled over smiling.  Though she was bleeding profusely from her mouth and nose, she was so excited that she had all her teeth and could move her arms and legs.  The Uruguayan observers couldn’t have been friendlier.  The Police escorted her to the hospital were a very long line convinced them to take her back to the ship for treatment.   I went with her to help and she just kept saying how lucky she was to get a free tour of the beautiful city. 

Both of these incidents were minor, but the final tragedy was not.  Miles away in Southern California a friend of the Brains was killed in a plane crash.  He had been flying in poor health and without a current license.  It was heart wrenching yet intriguing to see how differently each of them dealt with the loss.  Right Brain was stoic and attempted to rationalize it.  Left Brain was openly emotional and reflective.  All the while, No Brain worried about the safety of her own flight home.  The physical deterioration of an individual is much easier to understand than the mental traumas that accumulate with age.  Loss and change are difficult at any age, but we must find a way to deal.  We are dead until our heart stops beating, so until then I hope I live my life like the Brains.  

    

Little to Say About A Lot

You can’t see what I saw.  You can’t hear what I heard.  And most of all you can’t feel what I felt.  Yes you can passively view pictures and videos, but it isn’t the same.  Through my blog I have attempted to describe the simple things, but when it came time to writing about the serious, difficult issues of my experience I appear nearly speechless (hence the elapsed time between blog entries).  Culture is complex and my thoughts about the Ghanaian culture are no different. 

            Insufficient infrastructure as well as the deterioration of individual responsibility has led to haphazard development and a dependence on handouts.  All of which undermines progress.  There must be a way to utilize the rich natural and human resources of Ghana for the betterment of the people.  Ghana is a nation held together on religious conviction alone.  The belief in ones self is overshadowed by the belief that “God will provide.”  Government revisions must be made to empower individuals to initiate change in innovative ways.  Poverty will not be overcome without utilizing the entire population to move the country forward.  I sure don’t have the answers.

            Though I don’t view my experience as a complete success, I don’t see it as a completely failure either.  Albert Einstein didn’t speak until the age of 3.  He failed his college entrance exams.  His first academic paper was written on the physics of fluids in a drinking straw.  Just like Einstein, not everything is my life will be considered profound and successful.  I wasn’t able to accomplish much in Ghana, but I guess there is still hope for me.  If I become famous like him remind me to at least brush my hair.  

Past Due

This is an old post that I meant to be put up before I Ieft Ghana, I didn’t have Internet for the last week.  So, that didn’t happen, but here it is now.  I will have another post soon. 

Amber Mills has updated her status.

The Tokor Beading Women showing off their products.

After much deliberation, I have decided to return to the states on Thursday.  The reasons are complicated.  I could waste hours of your life explaining everything, but it isn’t important.  The bottom line is that I have made the best decision for me.  Though my trip has been truncated, I do not feel that my efforts have been fruitless.  As I will explain I have accomplished some things in Abuadi since I arrived.  In Tocor, a village just 10 minutes away, I have also been helping with the construction of a school and with a women's beading group.  I feel occupied, but I couldn’t do what I am doing for the next four months.  Therefore, this will be my last entry in Ghana.  Have no fear though I am heading to Chile next!

My Ewe Education

If you are in the Volta Region for any time at all, you WILL learn some Ewe.  All of my progress can be attributed to the hard work of everyone I pass going anywhere.  Women will stop in the middle of the road to greet me and baby me through my reply.  Faceless voices will beckon me in Ewe from within their cooking huts.  Sometimes I don’t even know how they know it is me.  Does my walk sound funny?  Can they see my white skin gleaming through the cracks?  Or, do they have yavoo radars?  I always make an awkward attempt to reply.  Afterwards, they laugh whether I get it right or wrong.  More often than not I have no clue whether I have given an acceptable response.       

The children have also taken it upon themselves to teach me.  They have me repeat after them all the time.  I think they think I am “special” because I am old and don’t know Ewe.  One of the kids suggested that Brad, another volunteer, should learn Ewe so that when he goes home he can get lots of money from teaching all the Americans.  Good thought, huh? Slowly but surely I am learning. 

Orphanage Fun Day

During my time in Goefe I visited the local orphanage everyday.  There are 14 children ranging in age from 3 to 15.  As I entered the front yard for the first time they rushed at me from the porch.  I stopped walking to brace for impact.  This was my first mistake.  Never stop moving.  The moment you stop you are immediately transformed into playground equipment.  With each visit I learned a few orphanage survival techniques and grew more and more attached to the children. 

Moses eating the paint.

On Saturday I returned to the orphanage to do some activities.  It was pure insanity.  We painted and drew with crayons.  I taught them to make twist friendship bracelets.  Then we did some relay races and team building games.  There were a few glitches along the way. Moses wouldn’t stop eating the paint.  Acre knocked over the water not once, not twice, but three times.  Josephine kept pulling Makafui’s bracelet off.  But, for the most part I would consider it a success.  At the end of the day I played Shrek on my laptop and within 30 minutes they were all asleep.  I snuck out the side door as they slept.  I haven’t decided if I will return.  People rush in and out of their lives constantly.  I think I prefer to make a silent exit.

  

Please Excuse My Ranting

The four school buildings in Abuadi are rubbish.  If there are walls they are cracked and caving.  If there is a floor it is crumbling and uneven.  If there are windows the shutters don’t close.  If there are desks they are broken.  Of these issues, I felt like I could improve the desk situation. 

I began by asking the headmasters the number of students enrolled.  Then I counted the number of desks as well as the number that needed fixing.  According to my calculations, 45 desks needed to be repaired and 40 needed to be purchased.  I decided to tackle the repairs first.  It was arranged that the ten carpenters in the village would meet me at the school early Tuesday morning to begin the work.  I was reassured that they were offering their services free of charge and the job would be complete before school began. 

One working and 5 watching.  TYPICAL.

On Tuesday I was quite capricious.  I was excited, frustrated, annoyed and satisfied all in a nine-hour period.  I bought the nails, arrived at the school at 6:30am and waited.  Around 7:30am the kids started arriving for class, but it wasn’t until 8:30am the carpenters began to show up.  Only 6 of the 10 came and only four brought their hammer.  Why would a carpenter go to work without a hammer?  In the time that I was waiting I had sorted all the desks in all four buildings according to the repair needed.  So, I put the men straight to work.  The repairs were not difficult, but when professional carpenters struggle to hit the nail on the head things take a little longer than expected.  Their philosophy seemed to be that if they put enough nails in it and hit it enough that it would stay together.  I was able to overlook the skill deficient for a while because they were working so hard, but that didn’t last long.

An hour into the job my counterpart informed me that in their culture the carpenters would receive alcohol to drink while they are working.  I told him that in my culture, drinking at school in the presence of children is illegal.  That got me nowhere.  I gave them the alcohol and from then on the work efficiency declined exponentially.  As soon as the alcohol arrived there was never a lack of supervisors.  At any given time there were at least six people watching the two people working.   The entire group would wait until the last desk in the classroom was complete before moving to the next room as a group.  This wasn’t the first or last time I would be completely perplexed by their strategy. 

I am not experienced in carpentry, but I think you are allowed to improvise with materials at times.  There were spare desk parts piled in the back of every classroom that I repeatedly suggested using.  They refused and in return suggested that I write down what I needed to buy for them.  I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “This is how it must be because this is how it has been done.”  If everything is always done how it has always be done then nothing will ever change.            

I took a break from supervising to talk with the headmasters.  Instead of being thanked for my contribution, I was reprimanded for doing the work during school hours.  I was then chastised for not just purchasing all new desks.  Furthermore, it came to my attention that the school isn’t even using all the desks they have.  The headmasters don’t know how many kids are enrolled at their schools or they are just trying to see how much they can get out of me.  Either way, they aren’t getting new desks from me.

At the conclusion of the day, I thanked the carpenters and reassured them that the children will benefit greatly from their work.  As I turned to leave the compound, I noticed the men lingering.   My counterpart pulled me aside and ask what I planned to give the men for their hard work.  I was slightly enraged.  So much for them volunteering their time.  Contrary to every Ghanaian’s belief, I am not an ATM.  I had nothing to give them.  I told them I would get back to them soon, but I don’t know if I will.  Do I pay them?  If so, do I pay the men who never swung a hammer?  Do I pay the guy who showed up at 11:30am?  I will figure it out. 

In all 105 desks were repaired.  I was proud of the accomplishment, but baffled by the day’s occurrences.  At times I felt that I was being culturally insensitive while other times I felt I was being spineless.  I came to Ghana to help with whatever I could, but I didn’t come here to give handouts.  I didn’t touch a hammer and I barely moved a desk all day.  To me it seems they don’t want me here they just want my wallet here.

I know that at times this entry was slightly negative.  Please realize that I am sharing with you a very limited portion of my experience.  It is easy for me to write when I am frustrated, but difficult when I am happy or busy.  There are aspects of Ghana that I love so don’t think I hate it here.  I got the opportunity to travel north this weekend to do some hiking.  I got to see a new area of the country and spend time with the other volunteers that I have grown quiet fond of.  It was wonderful and I would like to tell you all about it now, but realistically you won’t hear about it until I am stateside.  Thanks for reading!

Inextricable Character Building

Since I last wrote everything has changed.  As the following report explains, most of it is for the better.  The past few weeks have been extremely challenging mentally and physically.  Oftentimes I wonder why I am here and sometimes briefly question whether I will survive the experience.  Different portions of this entry were written at different times during a period of rapid change so please excuse any tense errors. 

Bella

           

Family Life

I eat alone in a small room at a small table facing an empty wall.  Once I have finished though I sit with Christy and her family as they eat.  It is quit a different experience.  Seated on short stools around a small table, they eat, talk and laugh.  After washing their right hand they dig into whatever slime and stew they have prepared.  At first it bothered me that they eat with their bare-hands, but now I can see the practicality.  There is no such thing as leftovers.  Every bit is consumed and scraps are feed to the animals. 

After meals I sit with the children.  At three years of 

Edward

age Bella, Christy’s daughter, is divalicious.  She never goes to school, won’t take off her pink dress, dances everywhere instead of walking, must be bathed first and eats whatever she wants (ex. candle wax, plain butter and any food I have not eaten from my meal).  Stella, one of Christy’s daughters, has two boys named Collins and Edward that are always around too.  Edward is probably a little over a year old and is often bouncing and singing while tied to Stella’s back.  He is one of the strangest children.  He can walk but crawls up the steps feet first.  He doesn’t like the animals near his food so they will sit him outside the cooking hut with a stick.  He is dedicated to his job.  Once when a chicken got past him, he tackled it to the ground.  Edward

Collins

also carries an old jug around with him.  It doubles as a drum and a seat.  Collins is the most mischievous.  He is always stealing food and blaming it on Edward.  He is a very loving individual though.  He kissed my camera screen when I showed him a picture of his brother and made a bed out of plastic chairs for himself and Bella to nap on when she wasn’t feeling well.  The never-ending compassion and entertainment makes me feel at home.

GRE Prep

For some odd reason I thought that I would study some for the GRE while I was here.  I figured I would have the spare time to really give it the attention it deserves.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  Instead I read poorly authored elementary books and teach children to read words like it, is and the.  It doesn’t help that most of the time I hear pure Ewe twaddle.  I rarely speak in complete sentences either.  “I go now,” is about as complex as it gets.  My lack of lexical complexity is sure to earn me excellent marks on the GRE!

Africa’s Gift to the World

Ghana has an obsession with Barak Obama.  His name and image can be found on underwear, notebooks, car stickers, shirts and the list goes on.  It is fascinating.  My favorite Obama product is a flashlight that casts the image of an American flag alongside Obama’s face.  The kids can tell me more about Obama than their own President.  I just hope that Obama is at least making some money off the enterprise so that he can repair our economy.

GVN Pulls the Plug

The Global Volunteer Network (GVN) is the well-established organization that I used to find my placement with BRIDGE, my local organization.  Recently, GVN has decided to withdraw their support.  Their reasoning and the influence of their decision on my stay are complicated.  As of December 1^st, GVN will not send any volunteers to BRIDGE and I will receive my four months of money back.  That means I can either stay here and pay BRIDGE directly or simply go home.  At this time I haven’t decided what I will do.  I have accomplished nothing in my 6 weeks here.  I would hate to leave with nothing to show for my efforts, but I am not sure that even if I stayed for years I would get anything done.  Without other volunteers to follow my work I find it difficult to believe that any of the sustainable development projects I would like to initiate could be carried out after I have left.  I will keep you all updated on my decision.

       

Out of the Village

            The other volunteers and I set out on a Thursday for Cape Coast.  We traveled by tro tro and bus for 6 hours to our destination.  It was a long complicated day, but a break from village life was absolutely necessary.  Nestled about 200 yards from the Cape Coast Castle, the Beach Oasis Resort was the perfect getaway.  I think I spent most of my time in the shower, but the rest of the place must have been nice too. 

Cape Coast Castle

Early on Friday we toured the castle.  It served as a slave departure port under various foreign reins.  The pitch darkness and filth of the dungeons stood in stark contrast to the airy comforts of the castle above.  I couldn’t even fathom the scenarios described by our guide.  The experience was deeply depressing albeit thought provoking.  Though no long specific to one race, human trafficking continues to plague our world.  You can add human trafficking to the list of things I don’t understand.   

Kakum Forest Canopy Walk

     

On a lighter note, that Saturday we ventured to the Kakum Forest to do the canopy walk.  We followed a meandering trail through the forest to the base of the platform.  Suspended among the treetops were a series of rope bridges.  At times it was irking yet exhilarating to be so far from the ground on such a wonky structure.  We didn’t see even the slightest sign of wildlife, but the view over the bush was stunningly expansive.  As far as sightseeing goes that was the extent of our adventures.

Near Death

            As I traveled back from Cape Coast to my village I began to feel slightly under the weather.  I thought it was evanescent but instead it lingered until it came to a climax then lingered again.  I thought I was going to die at one point.  I was sweating.  My stomach was growling and head was whirling.  The old naked lady outside my window only made matters worse.  Strangely at one point she was listening to Montgomery Gentry on the Ghana country music radio station while killing a chicken.  Earplugs were insufficient.  Excuse my gore, but in the night I upchucked my brains out and didn’t eat for the next four days.  At one point I was so hot that I chilled bags of pure water on the concrete floor then piled them on top of me as I lay sprawled on the floor.  This was refreshing, but didn’t last long.  A mouse crawled across my leg just as I was about to fall asleep.  This brought my brilliant idea to a swift halt.  Tuesday and Wednesday were miserable. 

Additionally, when I plugged in my computer to look up what I should get from the pharmacy the socket shot sparks at me and smoke poofed from the wall.  Not only did this fry my computer battery, but it also blew the only functional socket in my house.  So, I blindly ventured to the chemical store (a.k.a. the pharmacy) to get something.  I wouldn’t have made it to the hospital an hour and a half away so this was my only option.  The lady working there ask me about my symptoms and concluded that I had/ have malaria.  She gave me some pills and I left skeptical of what I was going to find in my bag.  She gave me some weird blood tonic pills, 400mg ibuprofen (a dose that no one my size should take) and a malaria medicine that no one in the developed world has heard of. 

I was pretty wiped for the next few days, but made it to the hospital the next week.  I have never in my life seen anything like this hospital.  The check in area was complete chaos with hundreds of people clamoring about.  I checked in at one window to pay.  Then I checked in at another window to tell them I don’t have Ghanaian insurance.  At a third window I was ask my birthday.  Next, I waited about an hour for my name to be called and retrieve my folder.  I took my folder to the nurses’ station and sat waiting for 2 hours to see the nurse.  She took my blood pressure and ask me about my symptoms.  To see the doctor, I returned to the waiting area to sit for another 5 hours.  I finally saw the doctor after 8 hours of waiting.  He never took my temperature, touched me or ask me any questions.  He simple said I didn’t have malaria, wrote me a prescription for ibuprofen and sent me to go to the lab for blood work. 

Blood work makes me very uncomfortable.  At the time I had no idea what the blood work was for, but later determined it was a test for malaria.  I have a passionate hatred of needles in general, but I believe petrified would more accurately describe my status when heading toward the “vein puncture room” in a dysfunctional, unsanitary, Ghanaian hospital.   Furthermore, I had to watch the ten people ahead of me get jabbed.  I am not going to lie; I had to go the bathroom right before I went to do a little pump up dance.  As I sat in the chair I was sure I was going to pass out.  I was extremely irritable and hadn’t eaten all day.  When the phlebotomist asked for my thumb I was really confused, but then he swiftly pricked my finger and collected a sample.  I waited 9 hours for a finger prick. 

By that time the hospital was closing for the day so I had to return early the next morning for my results.  It was too late to get transportation back to my village so I pampered myself with a stay Ho at Chances Hotel.  I got a good meal, nice shower and a cool night of sleep. 

The following morning I made it to the hospital by 8:00am.  Per usual, I waited for an hour before the lab tech handed me my results.  There was not one word on the entire page I could read.  I went to ask him what it said but he had already shut the door in my face.  Out of desperation I returned to the nurse’s station and ask them.  They couldn’t read it either and informed me that the I must see the doctor for the results to be read and that there would not be any doctors there for the next two days.  I was enraged and stormed back to the lab.  After begging the receptionist, she fetched the lab tech.  He reluctantly told me that it said they found no malaria parasites.  At first I was elated, but then I was concerned.  If I don’t have malaria, what do I have?  At this point I don’t know if I had / have malaria or not, but I am feeling better.     

          

Festivaling

Charlotte after her race

      Evidentially, we are “festivaling” in honor of the mountain if there are rocks along the road with splashes of white paint on them.  Festivities began with a children’s barefoot race to the mountaintop and back.  It took a mere 38 minutes for the winner, who appeared to be a 30-year old high schooler, to return.  As the runners came in the women would dance and sing around them while fanned them with cloth.  They then poured water over their head, put powder all over them and handed them a Fanta. 

Visiting Dance Crew

At the ceremony I was seated with the elders.  They paraded in with the chief and sat at the head of the crowd.  There was an auction, story telling, dancing, music and a donation challenge thing.  The majority of the time I had no clue what was going on.  Later I found out that the money raised will go to build the community center.  The winner of the race was also announced and given his prize.  He was supposed to get a TV, but instead was given lame luggage.  “Festivaling” continued into the night with dancing and drumming, but since I was still not feeling 100% I skips out.   

To the Top

Me half way up the mountain

I was inspired by the festival to climb the mountain.  According to the guidebooks, Adaklu Mountain is the second highest point in Ghana.  To avoid the mid day sun, the other volunteers and I started out at a quarter to seven to meet our guide in the neighboring village.  The climb was a welcome challenge.  We wove through a grassy slope that led up to a rocky ascent.  Ropes were necessary for portions of the trek.  The view and breeze at the top were well worth the two hours up and an hour and a half down.  I really don’t see how the winner of the festival race made it in 38 minutes.   We could see Ho in the distance and little villages hidden among the trees.  The sparse developments reminded me that there is so much potential here.          

Upgrading

Due to complicated circumstances, it was decided that I would move from Geoffe.  I gave up on a community that had shown me no support and no promise of change. The dramatic parting was inexorable.  I was disappointing an entire community as well as crushing Christy’s dreams.  She was balling her eyes out as I drove away.  I felt like a horrible person for leaving, but it was the best decision I have made on my journey thus far.  My new placement in Abuadi is simply amazing.  I sense that I can accomplish something here.  My room is clean, insect free, and equip with a fan.  My caretaker, Favor, is affable, but slightly stiff with me at this point.  I hope she will relax a little.  Ebullient, intelligent and driven, my new counterpart, Anani, will be wonderful to work with.  Three notebooks of committee information sat on my bedroom table awaiting my arrival.  On my first evening the entire committee came to greet me and I was given a proper tour of the entire village including key introduction.  I can already tell that this committee faces many of the same challenges as my previous, but they are sincere and hard working.  Project ideas are plentiful so I think my first task will be to prioritize needs.  I am really excited to start working.

Congratulations if you made it through all of that.  Thanks for the attempt if you skipped to the end.  Again, I am sorry for the novel.  I rarely get Internet access and have a lot to say.  I will update everyone on my new project soon, but until then PEACE. 

Where Everything is Strange

First and foremost, I want to alert the troops that my arch nemesis has been defeated.  Thanks to the efforts of Raid and a ten-year-old boy who beat it with a pen, Edward Arachnid, the mega spider form the corner of my room, was laid to rest on Wednesday October 20, 2010 at approximately 7:09pm.  R.I.P. Edward.  On that note, I in no way meant to elicit pity or worry with my previous post.  My life in Ghana is very different from my perfect sanitary life in Kentucky.  I don’t have all the luxuries of home or the comfort of friends and family, but I promises I will survive.  To me the cultural and environmental differences are not wrong or bad; they are just funny.  I hope this post will convince each of you that I will survive.

The Oasis

The supermarket in Ho is like an oasis.  The outside of the building has bars reminiscent of a high security prison yet the neon sign glows like a nightclub.  An array of items is scattered half haphazardly on petite shelves between which narrow aisles allow restricted navigation.  It is a comfort to know that (for the most part) they have everything I could ever need.  The first time I went I got the essentials: bug spray to kill Edward and the ants, a rag to clean my room and an air freshener to alleviate the fire smell which wafts through my window.  The second visit was a little less about necessity and more about indulgence.  I bought a can of Nutella-ish spread and crackers!  Who knows what I will buy next?

  

Pure Glee

The kids caught me on my computer and ever since it has been their obsession.  I taught them to navigate iTunes first.  So far their favorite songs are Forever Young by Jay-Z and Intuition by Jewel.  They decided to have a dance competition so they made me score cards and the winner got to listen to my iPod for 30-minutes all by themselves.  Most of the time they have no clue what the words mean, but they sure can dance.  One of my favorite questions of that evening was, “Why can’t white people dance?” Hahaha

They also love watching the Glee episodes I have on my iTunes.  I only have three and I swear they have watched each of them no less than 10 times.  Rachel is their favorite character.  One of the boys wanted me to call and ask her to marry him.  They have started to memorize some of the dances.  I plan to film a Glee episode African style before I leave. 

Next I showed them some of my pictures and I couldn’t believe what a great teaching opportunity it turned out to be.  They were surprised by the things that they found similar to Ghana as well as deeply intrigued by the differences.    They thought Daisy, my sister’s goat, was a pig and Ray, our great dane, was a donkey.  They laughed for literally 30-minutes when they saw the picture of Chelsea, my dog, in her coat, boots and hat.  They wanted to know all about snow, the ocean, African Americans and ski boats.  Their curiosity is endless.  I can only imagine what would happen if I showed them the Internet.  

Reflection

Yesterday, as I went to close the door of my house I caught a glimpse of myself in the windowpane.  I had to take a double take.  There aren’t other white people here so it had to be me and I obviously haven’t changed drastically in three week, but it was just weird.  The insignificance of my appearance here stands in stark contrast to my self-conscious life in the states.  I couldn’t imagine leaving the house in the morning without fixing my hair, doing my make-up and putting on clean clothes.  Here these things don’t matter.  Obviously I keep myself as clean as possible, but it is nice disregard the unnecessary primping.  

Just Teach

I am a teacher now.  I have all the freedom in the world too.  I can show up at any school, go into any classroom and teach whatever I want.  It sounds cool, but it is actually really difficult. 

During a visit with the headmaster at the Primary School it was decided that I would teach.  I thought that meant I would teach some other time, but I was wrong.  He meant right then.  He gave me zero guidance.  He didn’t tell me what to teach or who I was going to be teaching.   He suggested that I teach whatever I wanted.  What does that mean?  He pushed me into a classroom with about 30 of the oldest kids.  I was terrified.  I assumed that the kids would understand me, but boy was I wrong.  They looked at me like I had two heads, seven eyes and four noses as I introduced myself.  After I had them introduced themselves I called it a day and dismissed myself.  I ask the headmaster when to return and he told me that whenever I come I will teach.  I haven’t been back yet, but I know I will have to soon.  Maybe I will prepare a topic that can be discussed by playing charades. 

At the Junior High School I got a little more direction.  I will be teaching technology in all three classes on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  I didn’t get a textbook, but I at least got a brief syllabus.  The first thing on the syllabus is computer mouse skills.  With that I assumed that there would be a functional computer in the classroom.  WRONG.  In the back of one classroom there is one non-functional device deserving a prominent place in an electronics museum as the first computer ever marketed to the public.  I also got to observe some teachers in action.  One teacher had her baby running around the classroom throwing chalk while she taught.  Another answered his cell phone while a kid was answering a question.  It’s going to be a long semester. 

Where in the World is…?

I found a world map in my house.  One night when the kids were over, I brought it out.  I ask them to point of Ghana.  Of the twenty or so kids present not one could tell me where Ghana was.  One was sure it was in Utah while another pointed to Australia.  I decided to make it easy.  I ask them to show me where Africa was.  To my amazement, only one kid could point to Africa.  Most of them had never seen a World map.  I couldn’t believe it.  I remember seeing maps and globes all over my house, in books, on the TV and at school.  To some this may seem like a minor glitch in their education, but to me it is a big deal.  How can one have any understanding of the world without knowing where they are and what else is out there?  From now on when they look through my pictures I will make sure they know where in the world the photo was taken.   

          

Don’t you want a Fanta, Fanta!

Christy, my caretaker, is always busy doing something.  Every forth day she makes the journey to Ho to the market.  On these dreadful days her daughter, whom I still don’t know her name, takes care of serving my lunch.  She is not a very happy person.  She is younger than I yet has a two-month-old baby boy (that looks like an old man in the face).  She stays at home all day everyday so her distaste for life is slightly understandable.  A smile rarely ventures upon her face, except for lunchtime on market days when it appears stretched from ear to ear as she serves me a pack of crackers and a Fanta.  At first I thought this smile was an I-hope-you-like-it smile but now I think it is a Hahaha I-could-serve-her-air-and-she-would-say-thank-you smile.  I really don’t mind that it isn’t much to eat; it is the Fanta that kills me.  I haven’t had a carbonated beverage since probably 6^th grade.  I wanted to cry when she first sat it on my table.  I attempted to tell her I didn’t want it, but that didn’t translate well.  She stood there smiling as I took my first drink.  I tried to smile but a few tears dropped from my eyes as it burned all the way down.  I guess she missed that tear part because I got it again the next time.  Every market day I am reminded why I stopped drinking soda.   

  

Jesus The Way

Fun fact: My house doubles as the senior citizen church called Jesus the Way.  Yep, you read that right.  Though the denomination is unknown, it’s pernicious effect on me sleep is well understood.  Services are held either outside my door or next to my window early in the morning or late at night on any day of the week.  I am afforded the opportunity to hear every out-of-tune voice-cracking hymn, ahem and halleluiah as well as every clap, drumbeat, cane stomp and maraca shake.   On Sundays, they are particularly devoted.  They arrive around 5:00am and remain engaged until about 11:00am.  It is particularly interesting when I must pass through the service to go to the bathroom or to bath.

Beads?

Kids in my village rarely wear clothes it seems.  Instead they are seen wearing only flip-flops and three strands of beads around their waist.  Evidently it is a disgrace not to wear these beads.  I can’t tell that there is anything special about these small beads.  There are different colors, but all are of the same made in china style.  From my investigation, it appears that the beads represent the family’s ability to provide for their child.  An individual is not suitable for marriage without them.  I thought there could be more to the story so I ask my Christy.  She was surprised that I didn’t have any and insisted that I must have them before the wedding I was to attend.  That made me nervous.  What was going to happen at this wedding that would require me to have these beads?  The answer was nothing, but she put them on me before I left and now I find them annoying.  They dig into my back when I carry my backpack, get caught on my pants and are obnoxious when bathing.  I would take them off, but Christy checks periodically that I am still wearing them.  I guess I will be wearing them for the next five months!           

   

The 5-Hour Wedding

American weddings are nothing compared to Ghanaian weddings.  I arrived at the bride’s house around 8:30am the morning of the wedding.  She was dressed in a white fitted dress with sequent flower designs while the groom wore a navy suit.  There was a church service before the wedding that lasted 3 hours then the Ghanaian ceremony lasted about 2 hours I think.  I am not entirely sure when one started and the other began.  They exchanged traditional vows at the very end but other than that everything seemed different.  There was drumming, singing and dancing.  I sat outside the church under a canopy with loads of other people whom I felt could care less about the service.  There were children rolling around on the ground and some lady snoring in the back.  A kid next to me took the safety pin off his flower and stabbed it in his hand, stared at it for a while and then laughed hysterically for ten minutes before removing it.  The camera guy was obnoxiously hovering with huge box video camera from the 80’s during the entire service.  The service concluded around 2:00pm, but the party wasn’t over yet.  Everyone, meaning about 150 people, came over to the bride’s house.  Dancing, singing and drumming followed the box lunch meal.  Oddly, the bride and groom never cracked a smile.  I don’t know the reason, but my theory is that they were just too hot to exert the energy.  Regardless, everyone had a fantastic time and left happy.   

  

African Sag

I was told to bring baggy clothes in order to be culturally sensitive.  I did as I was told and now I struggle to find clothes to put on in the morning.  I now realize the shrinking capacity of the modern dryer.  When you wring out the clothes and hang them on the line to dry there is zero shrinkage.  With every wash my belongings get a little longer and wider.  I have fashioned a rope belt to keep my pants up and now use safety pins to make my v-neck shirts acceptable to wear in public.  I should have brought infant clothing, have Christy wash them a few times and they would fit me perfectly.

Get it Girl!

 I am a little weakling.  I try so hard to wring all the water out my laundry, but every time it is insufficient.  Christy comes along behind me and wrings so much water out it seems like I hadn’t done anything.  I swear she has incredible hulk hands.  She has strong arms too.  She beats this big stick thing for hours to make fufu, a local dish.  I tried it and lasted 5 minutes.  Christy also carries water on her head all the time.  I am not sure what muscle has to be strong to do it, but I tried and must not even have that muscle.  Christy isn’t the only strong one either.  All the women work in the fields too.  If I stick around here long enough maybe some day I will be strong too.   

My Purpose?

It wasn’t until yesterday, that I really felt like I knew what I was supposed to be doing here.  I am working for a volunteer organization called BRIDGE which has assigned me to work with a local community based organization called the Goefe, Agbelefe and Tsrefe Development Organization (GATDO).  Goefe, Agbelefe and Tsrefe are three villages forming a collaborative community located just 13km outside Ho, the regional capital city, in the Adaklu district of the Volta region.  GATDO aims to reduce poverty, improve standards of education and encourage sustainable development.

At this point, GATDO’s main priority is to enhance the education provided by Goefe Primary School. Large class sizes, limited instruction time and minimal resources have resulted in unacceptable reading, writing and English performance.  In order to develop the educational standards necessary for success, the headmaster has suggested the implementation of three free extra classes for all students each week.  To pay for this endeavour, previous volunteers with GATDO have proposed the initiation of a community aquaculture farm.  Fish sales would theoretically provide money for the classes every year.  At this point we don’t have a pond, fish or money to get either of the previously mentioned necessities.  It is my job to figure out how to make this happen.  I know nothing about fish or Ghana so I have my work cut out for me.

Put to Scale

It took me two solid weeks and a two-hour hike to decide that Ghana is a beautiful country.  I live at the base of the Adaklu Mountain, but from my village I rarely acknowledge it.   On Saturday this changed.  I hiked from my village to Tocor, a village on the other side of the mountain.  The dirt road left me filthy and the sun left me torched, but the scenery left me rejuvenated.  Lush green trees and grass line the road and small farms spot the landscape.  The panoramic view from the mountain reminded me that I am experiencing merely one village in one region of the country.  No matter how long I stay in Ghana I will never understand everything about the country and its people.  I am not here to change the country.  Instead, I am merely here to make a difference in a few lives.

Welcome to Ghana!

I arrived in Ghana on October 3, 2010 with limited knowledge of my purpose.  Thus far my experience in Ghana can best be described as a puzzle.  I am gradually finding pieces, but they don’t yet fit together.  Therefore, that is how I will share my adventure with you, in pieces.      

Language Barrier

True or false?  The official language of Ghana is English.  According to all known sources, the answer is TRUE, but in real life the answer is FALSE.  The people in my region speak Ewe, which I am attempting to learn.  Older kids and younger adults usually know enough English to say a few things.  The most popular phrases seem to be, “You are welcome,” as an introduction, “Good Morning,” in the evening and “Will you marry me?” all day long.  Even when they try to speak English to me I usually only understand about one in ten words.  I can’t even read English here.  Goefe is the name of my village but it is pronounced nothing like it is spelled.  If I were to spell it how it sounds it would be Guaype.  I don’t get it. 

Weather

I don’t really understand the weather here.  All I know is that it is hot.  In order to accurately describe my sweatage I would have coined the following terms: swack= sweaty back, boodre= boob drench and button pool= belly button sweat.  It is supposed to be the dry season now, but I have never seen rain like this before.  I got hit with a golf ball sized drop the other day that actually left a bruise on my knee.  No joke.  I can’t imagine the rainy season if this is the dry season.       

Caught in My Undercrackers

I live in a house with several rooms rented to different families.  My room has a window with colored glass panels that should but don’t open and a screen with holes in it.  Therefore, I can’t see out and the wind can’t pass in.  My room is literally a sauna and I rarely wear clothes in there for this reason.  The family that lives next to me is constantly making a ruckus outside my window.  The grandmother has crazy eyes, constantly sings/ mumbles, likes to bang her cane against my window and usually isn’t wearing clothes.  Little did I know that somehow from the outside you can see straight into my room.  Yep, I am pretty sure the entire village has seen me naked now!

Just Do It

The toilet and the shower were two of my greatest fears about living in a village and both have lived up to their infamous reputation.  The bathroom is by far the worst as it is simply composed of a wooden stall placed atop a cement platform with a hole in the floor.  I once made the mistake of going at night, but believe me it won’t happen again.  It is dark and creepy and the bugs swarm about your headlamp.  Ah, no thanks.  I will wait until the morning.  The bathing situation also has a learning curve.  I am not sure what I expected, but a bucket of water in a stall wasn’t exactly what I had imagined.  I learned quickly the order in which to wash different parts of your body.  For example, wash your face before feet.  I further enhanced my bathing experience with the purchased a small bucket to aid in the rinse phase.  I am getting better.  The goal is to one day actually get all the soap off before running out of water!

Carb Loading

Luckily, I haven’t been sick at all yet (knock on wood).  The food is very different, but they gradually introduce me to the local dishes.  Every morning I eat bread and butter for breakfast with tea or milo.  Milo is similar to hot chocolate.  Lunch and dinner are less predictable, but common trends include, few vegetables, few fruits, mounds of carbohydrates and a bag of water.  Christine fixes all my food and she has only just begun to let me watch her cook.  On Monday I got to watch Christine make banku, a local carb slime, in her smoke hut.  Maybe in a few weeks she will let me stir some boiling water. 

Piranhas and Spider Monkeys

To a child in Ghana, a Yavoo (“white person”) sighting is like seeing Santa Claus.  They yell and sing and dance for me with outreached hands expecting gifts.  I love kids don’t get me wrong.  I admire their curiosity, energy and innocence.  But, sometimes the shire number of children and their expectations are overwhelming.  On my first day I counted 30 kids on my porch.  They love the balloons, crayons and jump rope that I brought so much that they pounce on them when I bring them out.  They will dive, hit, scratch, bite, whatever it takes, to get what they want. 

I have managed to grow accustom to this type of play but, one day they caught me on the porch with some of my electronics.  That was the beginning of the end.  My iPod is now stuck on a playlist of two songs.  My camera is permanently on panoramic view and they erased all the contacts from my cell phone.  This was all within 5 minutes.    

Their desire for toys is surpassed only by their longing for attention.  For example, there is this one little boy at the orphanage that will literally fly at me from across the room to latch on to me.  He can scale his way into my arms in a blink of an eye.  They want to hold my hand, sit in my lap, touch my face and oddly put their hands down my shirt.  I wake up in the morning and go to bed at night with children sitting outside my door.

Just a Dumb Yavoo

I wouldn’t survive her without my jovial caretaker, Christine.  She shows me around and makes sure I have food and water.  She doesn’t really think I can do any task alone.  For example, I wanted to do my laundry on Wednesday.  She was going to do it for me, but I told her I wanted to learn.  While she thought I wasn’t watching she tried to sneak my clothes out of my room.  I caught her so she had to teach me.  She showed me three times how to do it then left me to work.  After two hours of hand scrubbing my dirty clothes in a bucket with lots of soap, I proudly ask for her approval.  She smiled and said I had done a great job as she proceeded to wash them over again.  Talk about a mixed message.

Lions and Tigers and Bears Oh My

When you think of Africa you think of predators lurking in a grassland plain while elephants graze peacefully.  Well, thus far the huge resident spider in my room has been my most exotic sighting.  He is my arch nemesis staring at me all night just out of reach in the tip-top corner of my room.  Besides the spider there are goats, sheep, cats, dogs and chickens.  I saw a cow once and it looked like it hadn’t ever eaten.    

Trotro

Imagine passing over a dirt road with ruts the size on the Grand Canyon in a 16-passenger van packed with 27 other people. There’s a baby in your lap and a goat under your seat.  You stop every 5 seconds it seems to drop someone off, pick someone up, pick up the market goods that fell off the roof or just to chat with a passerby.  Lack of AC and DO for the BO both leave you gasping for air.  Yep, that is just another day on a trotro.  Each time I travel anywhere this is my mode of transportation.  It is amusing and culturally enlightening to say the least.

That is all for now.  Sorry this entry was so long.  I will try to post updates as often as possible.  Until then, I wish each of you the best of luck.