I didn't even skim the surface of my daily life here in Ghana, I mean, I didn't even cover the outreach! I talked about it a little before...but the volunteer work is why I'm here. I don't write about it because it is a routine, and it's my job, and it's basically the same every week. So, around noon Mon. through Thurs. I'm spreading AIDS awareness. Mon. through Wed. we go to schools and it can be a tough gig. You have to dance in a sort of ill-fitting costume that looks like a jester outfit on the first day. The rest of the time, you are trying to keep the attention of 100 12-year olds all the while holding up a visual aid of the drawing of a penis. And we hold group discussion sessions. It is really rewarding, especially when the kids are asking a lot of questions and geniunely interested, but when there are no questions, I feel like I choke sometimes. Uh, Uh, any more questions?
They love to watch us dance, and are so sweet, asking us,"are you coming back tomorrow?" This time always goes by too fast. And the village outreach on Thursdays are Long days, because we basically combine what we do in 3 days at the school into one day, AND we test. But it's a cool experience seeing the villagers reactions to us being there and to our information. And we have yet to go to a village and not find aleast one person who has HIV. It can be depressing, yet, as I said before, they are now INFORMED and not spreading the disease unknowingly, and can now get medicine to stay alive and healthy. You have to think of it like this: They had the virus before we came along, but finding it is not only protecting this person, it is protecting their children and partner[s].
I really enjoy the dancing part of the outreach too. I am by no means, coordinated at local dance. I've realized that this is not really necessary, as my attempt at and participation in traditional culture is what draws a crowd, but gets people interested being there for our outreach. I have come a really long way, and I have a little confession to make: The day of our first rehersal, (which was my very first day in Ghana) as they were teaching us the dances, I got very overwhelmed, frustrated, and I (stimultaneously with another volunteer) started crying! I had no idea that Ghanaians were loud talkers, and touchy, and as they were trying to teach me, they were grabbing my shoulders and trying to direct me, while 2 guys would be yelling different things at the same time. To my credit, I was jet-lagged, and in culture shock, but man, was it embarrassing! Everything sort of just stopped, and a whole village was watching the 2 white girls cry over nothing. I must have seemed so crazy, or silly, or spoiled, but the dancing lessons were a lot more gentle after this incident. I can just laugh at this now, it seems like ages ago, and I'm friends with my dance instructors. The fact that I look forward to our performances shows you just how comfortable I've become!
Now, let's move on to-- Ghanian Time! (Ga-knee-an) You have no idea how much I now appreciate the rigidity, order and efficiency of America. Ghanian Time means there is no time frame whatsoever. It is one of my displeasures of Africa. Even within our own program, things will often get started an hour or two later than we anticipate. Last Thurs. morning, our 8 a.m. bus arrived at 11:30. There are no apologies, this is just when the bus shows up, so you get on it. Waiting around 3, 5, hell, 8 hours is no big deal here, it's just something you do. Two 12 hour bus rides within a matter of 4 days teaches you alot about patience. Or maybe it's about letting go, succumbing to things in life that you have no control over, and that grumbling over it, and getting angry about it just makes things worse.
Segway to: My Adventure to the Northern Reigon had a rocky start, as you now know, however..... Mole National Park was incredible. Sure, I arrived in the hub town of Tamale in the middle of the night, overpaid for a taxi and hotel room that would only be used from midnight to 3:30 a.m., found out the 4 a.m. bus was sold out and the next one wouldn't be leaving until 2, wandered around looking for transportation before sunrise, almost rode on an over stuffed tro tro with standing room only, but we got there, and we did in style--all these misfortunes led to our (Becca, Ebenezer and I, as usual) being picked up in a nice, private, pick-up truck, driven by 2 surly men who kept telling us how lucky we were. You don't have to tell me twice, mister. They drove fast, and we got to Mole by 9:30 that morning. Whew!
We arrived at the grounds of the Mole Motel, greeted by warthogs, chewing away at the lawn. The motel overlooks the Park's watering hole, so it is situated on a hill, surrounded by grassland and trees and peace and quiet! At the time of arrival, we had already been awake for 6 hours, so it was breakfast time! I took a peek off the observation deck, and saw elephants all around! Then, as we checked into our room, a troupe of baboons decided to stroll through our back deck, and stopped to peer through our screen! During b.fast I had to go back to the room to pick up some sunscreen, and who did I see but Mr. Elephant standing right in front of my building! He was so close that he was actually blocking my way into our room, and I didn't press my luck, so I went around back. You know I got some great pics!
The rest of the day I was able to nap, lounge around on the observation deck and swim in the pool. It was like paradise compared to how we had spent the previous 24 hours. That afternoon we connected with two very lovely girls from Denmark, who let us join them in the back of their truck for a driving safari. It was fun, although not as rewarding with game viewing as the rest of my day had been (but we did see a baby crocodile, which was kinda neat). We ended the evening with dinner, chatting, and an early tuck-in. 6 a.m. wake up for the walking safari. I was not equippped with proper foot-gear so was made to rent some galoshes, 4 sizes too big. I likened it to walking in my dad's snowboats when I was a kid. An armed guide took us down some easy trails to the watering hole, and we saw plenty of warthogs, baboons, and antelope, although I still couldn't keep my mind off the damned boots (I was more trudging than walking). It was a cool morning, and soon the sky opened up and starting pouring rain on us. It let up a bit, and it was perfectly timed for our encounter with an elephant as we turned the corner (I know not everyone had the same fortune that I did the day before). Like all the fortitous experiences of the weekend, my wellies now were keeping my feet and legs nice and dry from mud and brush and I was happy. After the safari, we had a refreshing and relaxing day eating, swimming, resting and socializing. All good things come to an end, however and...
The travels back home to Accra via Tamale, were, of course, hellish, beginning with a 3 a.m. wake up call, a slow, loud bus trip back to Tamale only to discover we had missed the bus to Accra by 2 hours. I was very grumpy that morning, being unkind in my head about all the villagers overloading the bus, invading my space, and talking too much in the early morning hours. Then I realized, that I am the foreigner, it is their country, and how I feel about how they do things is really unimportant. It was going to be crowded, loud and slow, whether I was sitting there or not, and I better just shut up and deal with it. Nonetheless, I was not pleased when we got to Tamale and realized the next bus to Accra was leaving at 4 p.m. Time to kill is not an understatement. Ok, so time is up. This blog is NOT finished however. Please check soon for the rest of my post regarding the travels deluxe.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
A Day in the Life
Sorry Kids. I never blog. I wake up every morning to the sounds of my household, the babies crying, the loud TV, people sweeping and talking and whistling outside of our window. But I always assume it's before 6 a.m. and fall back asleep as late as I possibly can, which sometimes is 10. Not so bad eh? After opening up my eyes and shifting around, my roomie and I usually converse about our wishes for an oatmeal breakfast, sighing when it turns out to be bread and margarine. Our morning routine varies, but most of the time outreach doesn't begin until after noon, so sometimes we treat ourselves with a walk to the roadside for oranges, or we go up to the filling station for ice cream and hit the internet cafe (I know, I know, I should be blogging, but there is so much email and gchat to contend with). We have also somehow worked our way into hanging out in the interior family room, which we thought was off limits to us visitors, but now we watch American films in the morning and at night, with Ebenezer and the kids. You have no idea how appealing ANY movie from home can be when you've been gone for 5 weeks. I watched Uptown Girls the other night, and I think it may be my new favorite movie. So, we kill quite a bit of time in the mornings, buckets baths, reading, TV, playing with the little ones and the animals.
Our family is pretty well-off in Ghanaian terms. Both the parents have income...Papa is a track coach and a Marshall in the fire brigade and Auntie Dinah sells her bread. All of the kids go to school, and Wazozo, the adult nephew (who I have never mentioned before) that stays with us also works in the fire brigade, and makes television antennas. He is always singing and respects our privacy. He is also always working on home improvement projects on the property. I know at first I made the place out to be the most rustic, uncivilized residence (ok, so I did wake up with a bug crawling on my arm and a rash), but they keep the place in order. They are planning on installing windows and doors (no more chickens in the house), and in the time that we have been there, have made space for a garden and planted trees around the perimeter of the house. They sweep the yard every morning to clear away chicken doo, and burn the papers from the outhouse. By American standards, it is hard-going, but compared to other homes around, it is quiet nice.
An interesting cultural condition here is that many families have children living with them that aren't actually kin, they just take them in and usually, they are like servants for the family in exchange for food and shelter. This is also true of my family...they have 3 youths living there that are relatives or randoms, and they do take up most of the domestic chores, such as laundry, cooking, cleaning, caring for the kids etc. They do this without complaint or resentment, and the fact they are being sent to school is an added plus, because many of the Ghanaian servant kids are just used for work and not cared for by the family, like ours are.
The animals are also part of the family. Again, it is a far cry from the lifestyle of American pets, but the dogs are fed, mostly scraps, and touched and named. Ten Thousand is the favorite, a little brown and white mutt with pointy ears that wears a little shell necklace. He follows around the town wherever we go, and smiles. Georgina is the momma dog, currently pregnant and very loving. Her two grown pups live there too, Little Boa, a sweet golden retriever-looking guy who likes to speak, and King Tut, (who we named cuz she looks Egyptian) who never lets us touch her and hates people. Evonce is the alpha male, he is bigger than the others, scruffy, white and people-friendly. There are 2 kittens, I like the orange boy cat and I let him into our room because I saw a mouse in there the other night. So you see, we have plenty of animal affection and entertainment around the house too!
You see, here in Africa, I have found small pleasures for myself, little things that bring me comfort and joy. I also have a few things that drive me up the wall... and the list is as follows:
*I enjoy the markets; having little stalls everywhere, selling everything, so whether you want coke, toilet paper, sandals, or an avocado, you can go to the roadside and find it. The markets are eclectic, fun, hectic; there is a huge secondary market here, so that good-will clothes from the US find new life being sold as African commodities. I keep imagining that I will see a pair of shoes that I have donated somewhere. I find it amusing.
*I eat ice cream almost everyday, it is pasteurized, and sweet and cold. I usually get it from the filling station, which is another pleasure, because it is air-conditioned, sells snickers, and cookies, and Lemon Fanta and has very sweet women working there (Esther, always says she loves and misses me, and my favorite quote ever from her is: I love your mouth. It is too small.).
*I love the kids here. They make me feel like a rock star, calling out and waving to me wherever I go, smiling with glee if I talk to them, running up to hug me or shake my hand. I love Edward and Edna, our family kids, I love having them in my lap, sharing cookies with them or looking through a magazine with them. I am so going to miss being surrounded by children, not only the school kids, but children in general, who are so abundant and outgoing here.
*I have mixed feelings about the tro tros. In a way, I love them. The rides are cheap, from 30-60 cents a pop, you can always catch one and go where ever you want. Witnessing the interactions of people and the scenery in a tro tro is often a pleasurable way to pass the time. The operators' obsession with filling every single seat of the vehicle can be trying, because they will stop every six feet if they have to, just to pick up a passenger. If you get a good one, they are blasting reggae and you'll have a window seat. If you get a bad one, you are straddling a bench and the fold-a-seat, listening to Ghana talk radio really loud. They drive like crack-heads, weaving to and fro all over the road. In the slowness of Accra traffic, this is manageable, but on the open road, I sometimes feel like I am in a death trap. Sometimes the passengers get into arguments with the driver and/or money collector and yell loudly in Ga. It usually passes quickly, and I think it's funny for some reason. I know I talk about them all the time, but tro tros are a big part of my daily life here in Ghana.
* I love going to the city. Accra is busy, and dirty, and noisy, but it has sorts or sights and places to go. We eat out at least once a week, we have one place for hummus, another for pizza, a salad restaurant and our favorite soft serve stand, Frosty Bites. I hate to admit that we never go out for local food, because we get it at home, and we don't really like it...except for my new love of chek-chek, a plate of fried rice, fried chicken, and coleslaw that you get at "fast food stands". I get it in our home town of Dome, at this little shack that has a table and a tv, and is always playing movies. Accra has Mokala market, the largest in Ghana, museums, forts, and indoor plumbing.
*I love that everyday I see something strange, thought-provoking and exotic. For example, this evening, Becca and I took a long walk through Accra, and we happen to see the sky turn black with swarms of bats. Literally thousands of huge bats, the size of pigeons, covered the sky from every direction, floating over the trees and traffic, chasing invisible prey in the form of mosquitoes. It was so amazing to watch, I can't even describe it. At our school outreach, we witnessed the children lining up to be spanked with a stick, spared on the presence of a clean handkerchief. I have seen a man clinging to the back of a semi-truck, going full-speed down the highway. Goats that I thought were cute until they ate each others' feces. A nude man bathing at the beach and looking at me with an incriminating glare, for taking pictures of the ocean. These aren't all good sights, but they sure stay with me.
*I hate the noise here. People don't shut up. They speak loudly, whether you are on the phone, or in a restaurant, tro tro, or on the street. Music and television are blasted at full volume. There is a lack of solitude that comes with all this noise. You are sitting next to people all the time, or they are approaching you, or walking next to you, or just living in the same house with you. Alone and quiet time are hard to come by.
* I hate the constant grime. The streets are filthy and littered with trash, the sewers are open, goats, dogs, chickens, and most likely humans, shit wherever they please, and that is often where you are walking. There are no emissions regulations and the roads are smoggy. It is very dusty here and I too am constantly filthy. This is the result of constant sweating combined with blowing dust. Ew. You can never have enough wet wipes or purell.
It is currently 9:30 at night and I have 7 minutes of internet time left. I can't include it all--I leave tomorrow for Mole National Park, the wildlife reserve that houses elephants, baboons, antelope etc. It is 16 hours away. So, I'm in for quite an adventure. I'll tell you all about it upon my return! (and I'll talk about last weekend's hiking excursion, as well!) Ta ta for now!
Our family is pretty well-off in Ghanaian terms. Both the parents have income...Papa is a track coach and a Marshall in the fire brigade and Auntie Dinah sells her bread. All of the kids go to school, and Wazozo, the adult nephew (who I have never mentioned before) that stays with us also works in the fire brigade, and makes television antennas. He is always singing and respects our privacy. He is also always working on home improvement projects on the property. I know at first I made the place out to be the most rustic, uncivilized residence (ok, so I did wake up with a bug crawling on my arm and a rash), but they keep the place in order. They are planning on installing windows and doors (no more chickens in the house), and in the time that we have been there, have made space for a garden and planted trees around the perimeter of the house. They sweep the yard every morning to clear away chicken doo, and burn the papers from the outhouse. By American standards, it is hard-going, but compared to other homes around, it is quiet nice.
An interesting cultural condition here is that many families have children living with them that aren't actually kin, they just take them in and usually, they are like servants for the family in exchange for food and shelter. This is also true of my family...they have 3 youths living there that are relatives or randoms, and they do take up most of the domestic chores, such as laundry, cooking, cleaning, caring for the kids etc. They do this without complaint or resentment, and the fact they are being sent to school is an added plus, because many of the Ghanaian servant kids are just used for work and not cared for by the family, like ours are.
The animals are also part of the family. Again, it is a far cry from the lifestyle of American pets, but the dogs are fed, mostly scraps, and touched and named. Ten Thousand is the favorite, a little brown and white mutt with pointy ears that wears a little shell necklace. He follows around the town wherever we go, and smiles. Georgina is the momma dog, currently pregnant and very loving. Her two grown pups live there too, Little Boa, a sweet golden retriever-looking guy who likes to speak, and King Tut, (who we named cuz she looks Egyptian) who never lets us touch her and hates people. Evonce is the alpha male, he is bigger than the others, scruffy, white and people-friendly. There are 2 kittens, I like the orange boy cat and I let him into our room because I saw a mouse in there the other night. So you see, we have plenty of animal affection and entertainment around the house too!
You see, here in Africa, I have found small pleasures for myself, little things that bring me comfort and joy. I also have a few things that drive me up the wall... and the list is as follows:
*I enjoy the markets; having little stalls everywhere, selling everything, so whether you want coke, toilet paper, sandals, or an avocado, you can go to the roadside and find it. The markets are eclectic, fun, hectic; there is a huge secondary market here, so that good-will clothes from the US find new life being sold as African commodities. I keep imagining that I will see a pair of shoes that I have donated somewhere. I find it amusing.
*I eat ice cream almost everyday, it is pasteurized, and sweet and cold. I usually get it from the filling station, which is another pleasure, because it is air-conditioned, sells snickers, and cookies, and Lemon Fanta and has very sweet women working there (Esther, always says she loves and misses me, and my favorite quote ever from her is: I love your mouth. It is too small.).
*I love the kids here. They make me feel like a rock star, calling out and waving to me wherever I go, smiling with glee if I talk to them, running up to hug me or shake my hand. I love Edward and Edna, our family kids, I love having them in my lap, sharing cookies with them or looking through a magazine with them. I am so going to miss being surrounded by children, not only the school kids, but children in general, who are so abundant and outgoing here.
*I have mixed feelings about the tro tros. In a way, I love them. The rides are cheap, from 30-60 cents a pop, you can always catch one and go where ever you want. Witnessing the interactions of people and the scenery in a tro tro is often a pleasurable way to pass the time. The operators' obsession with filling every single seat of the vehicle can be trying, because they will stop every six feet if they have to, just to pick up a passenger. If you get a good one, they are blasting reggae and you'll have a window seat. If you get a bad one, you are straddling a bench and the fold-a-seat, listening to Ghana talk radio really loud. They drive like crack-heads, weaving to and fro all over the road. In the slowness of Accra traffic, this is manageable, but on the open road, I sometimes feel like I am in a death trap. Sometimes the passengers get into arguments with the driver and/or money collector and yell loudly in Ga. It usually passes quickly, and I think it's funny for some reason. I know I talk about them all the time, but tro tros are a big part of my daily life here in Ghana.
* I love going to the city. Accra is busy, and dirty, and noisy, but it has sorts or sights and places to go. We eat out at least once a week, we have one place for hummus, another for pizza, a salad restaurant and our favorite soft serve stand, Frosty Bites. I hate to admit that we never go out for local food, because we get it at home, and we don't really like it...except for my new love of chek-chek, a plate of fried rice, fried chicken, and coleslaw that you get at "fast food stands". I get it in our home town of Dome, at this little shack that has a table and a tv, and is always playing movies. Accra has Mokala market, the largest in Ghana, museums, forts, and indoor plumbing.
*I love that everyday I see something strange, thought-provoking and exotic. For example, this evening, Becca and I took a long walk through Accra, and we happen to see the sky turn black with swarms of bats. Literally thousands of huge bats, the size of pigeons, covered the sky from every direction, floating over the trees and traffic, chasing invisible prey in the form of mosquitoes. It was so amazing to watch, I can't even describe it. At our school outreach, we witnessed the children lining up to be spanked with a stick, spared on the presence of a clean handkerchief. I have seen a man clinging to the back of a semi-truck, going full-speed down the highway. Goats that I thought were cute until they ate each others' feces. A nude man bathing at the beach and looking at me with an incriminating glare, for taking pictures of the ocean. These aren't all good sights, but they sure stay with me.
*I hate the noise here. People don't shut up. They speak loudly, whether you are on the phone, or in a restaurant, tro tro, or on the street. Music and television are blasted at full volume. There is a lack of solitude that comes with all this noise. You are sitting next to people all the time, or they are approaching you, or walking next to you, or just living in the same house with you. Alone and quiet time are hard to come by.
* I hate the constant grime. The streets are filthy and littered with trash, the sewers are open, goats, dogs, chickens, and most likely humans, shit wherever they please, and that is often where you are walking. There are no emissions regulations and the roads are smoggy. It is very dusty here and I too am constantly filthy. This is the result of constant sweating combined with blowing dust. Ew. You can never have enough wet wipes or purell.
It is currently 9:30 at night and I have 7 minutes of internet time left. I can't include it all--I leave tomorrow for Mole National Park, the wildlife reserve that houses elephants, baboons, antelope etc. It is 16 hours away. So, I'm in for quite an adventure. I'll tell you all about it upon my return! (and I'll talk about last weekend's hiking excursion, as well!) Ta ta for now!
Monday, September 24, 2007
Halfway Point!
The longer I am here in Ghana, the harder it seems for me to post. I believe this is because I am getting used to daily life, that things have become mundane for me, which is helpful as far as assimilating but not quite so interesting. However, living with a family has really allowed me to learn about individuals, traditions and cultural differences; some things I'll never understand, but most I have accepted. At points I feel like the distinct difference between our cultures is where things are not beneficial to these people, but are practiced anyways, things that appear to be uncivilized by American standards...things like littering, kicking animals, beating children and crowding 3 lanes of cars on one lane's worth of road. That being said....
My host family is as nice and helpful as ever, they are always teaching me new things about life in Africa. Yesterday they let me try my hand at making fufu, which entails mashing cassava root with a very tall blunt stick. You really have to slam the thing down, but all the while, and woman is kneading the dough toward you, and I was so afraid of smashing her fingers I couldn't really commit to it. We had a fantastic little gathering last night, organized by Yotam, my fellow volunteer who departed this morning. We had chicken and beef with home-made barbecue sauce, pineapple kabobs, Isreali salad, and mashed potatoes. I also enjoyed a few beers. The drummers from our program also came, so we had good live music and good fun. A very nice send-off indeed. In fact, last week was all about send-offs, as 3 of the volunteers returned to their respective homes! So, I guess you could say the week was bittersweet, because I have been friends with these people, really leaning on them this whole time, and I am genuinely sad to see them go.
I suppose I should backtrack to some of the experiences we shared together here in Ghana, since I didn't update you our trip to Cape Coast. So, the weekend before last was our final trip together, and Ronnie, the program director took us to Cape Coast, a nice little town about 3 hours away. It would have been a much harder trip had we not had the disposal of our own tro tro. We spent Fri. night at a cute little beach resort, which also had cute little bungalows much like Kokrobite beach, and good food, and dancing. We chose not to stay the following night opting instead for an overnight venture to Kakum National Park. This is a rain forest really close to Cape Coast, that has all kinds of hiking trails and a huge suspension bridge. Our accomodations were 4 sided, open platforms covered by tin roofing (imagine a gazebo, of sorts) with mosquito nets and really smelly, really really used foam mats. We whiled away the evening with a candle-light sing-along, courtesy of Yotam's guitar. There were other members of the audience besides the Obronis, like giant black centipedes and enormous ants. It was incredible how loud the forest became after dark; we were surround by a constant hum of insects, birds, bats and God knows what other creatures. It was a high pitched drone that only ceased in volume with the advent of a midnight rainstorm. I have to say I slept well, under the circumstances, aside from being woken with a mean case of heart burn. Ever resourceful that I am, I carry Pepto Bismal everywhere I go, so I was able to relieve my woes.
The sad truth of this adventure is that we decided not to to the canopy bridge walk as it was quite expensive and rumored not to be worth it. Do I regret this now? Perhaps a little bit, but I have plenty of nature-centric options left for my next 3 weekends. We packed up early, headed back down towards Cape Coast, but stopped for lunch at the Hans Cottage Botel. Yes, I said Botel. It looked really nice, it was definitely Euro-styled hotel, a bit run-down, but the draw there was not the place, but the CROCODILES that live in the river surrounding the restaurant. You don't just get to see these fellas, you get to watch an old lady feed them and beat them back with a stick. They allow you to just stand on the grounds, right there with these crocs hanging around, no less than 15 feet away. Great photo ops. That was fun, and funny, although I wasn't feeling so hot. By the time we had left the Botel and gotten to our next destination, I was in no mood for touring, although this was something I couldn't miss. We visited Elmina Castle, which is the oldest extant European building in possibly all of Africa, built by the Portuguese in 1482. But that is not the real significance of this place...the historical fortitude of this fort was that it was the major slave-trading quarters for the Continent. Already feeling woozy, I felt a tremendous burden of tragedy and lack of focus during the tour of the underground dungeons where they kept human beings in total darkness without sanitation or fresh air. I believe being there added to my malaise, but I am glad I was able to see first hand how the ancestors of so many Americans began their sad journey.
The weekend ended pretty uneventfully, with a long, uncomfortable tro tro ride home. The rest of the week went by pretty much without a hitch, aside from the departure of our volunteers, one by one. The outreach went really well. The kids in this particular school were great, and very receptive, and make me look forward to really bearing down and working hard these last few weeks! Outreach for today begins in 15 minutes, so until next time!
My host family is as nice and helpful as ever, they are always teaching me new things about life in Africa. Yesterday they let me try my hand at making fufu, which entails mashing cassava root with a very tall blunt stick. You really have to slam the thing down, but all the while, and woman is kneading the dough toward you, and I was so afraid of smashing her fingers I couldn't really commit to it. We had a fantastic little gathering last night, organized by Yotam, my fellow volunteer who departed this morning. We had chicken and beef with home-made barbecue sauce, pineapple kabobs, Isreali salad, and mashed potatoes. I also enjoyed a few beers. The drummers from our program also came, so we had good live music and good fun. A very nice send-off indeed. In fact, last week was all about send-offs, as 3 of the volunteers returned to their respective homes! So, I guess you could say the week was bittersweet, because I have been friends with these people, really leaning on them this whole time, and I am genuinely sad to see them go.
I suppose I should backtrack to some of the experiences we shared together here in Ghana, since I didn't update you our trip to Cape Coast. So, the weekend before last was our final trip together, and Ronnie, the program director took us to Cape Coast, a nice little town about 3 hours away. It would have been a much harder trip had we not had the disposal of our own tro tro. We spent Fri. night at a cute little beach resort, which also had cute little bungalows much like Kokrobite beach, and good food, and dancing. We chose not to stay the following night opting instead for an overnight venture to Kakum National Park. This is a rain forest really close to Cape Coast, that has all kinds of hiking trails and a huge suspension bridge. Our accomodations were 4 sided, open platforms covered by tin roofing (imagine a gazebo, of sorts) with mosquito nets and really smelly, really really used foam mats. We whiled away the evening with a candle-light sing-along, courtesy of Yotam's guitar. There were other members of the audience besides the Obronis, like giant black centipedes and enormous ants. It was incredible how loud the forest became after dark; we were surround by a constant hum of insects, birds, bats and God knows what other creatures. It was a high pitched drone that only ceased in volume with the advent of a midnight rainstorm. I have to say I slept well, under the circumstances, aside from being woken with a mean case of heart burn. Ever resourceful that I am, I carry Pepto Bismal everywhere I go, so I was able to relieve my woes.
The sad truth of this adventure is that we decided not to to the canopy bridge walk as it was quite expensive and rumored not to be worth it. Do I regret this now? Perhaps a little bit, but I have plenty of nature-centric options left for my next 3 weekends. We packed up early, headed back down towards Cape Coast, but stopped for lunch at the Hans Cottage Botel. Yes, I said Botel. It looked really nice, it was definitely Euro-styled hotel, a bit run-down, but the draw there was not the place, but the CROCODILES that live in the river surrounding the restaurant. You don't just get to see these fellas, you get to watch an old lady feed them and beat them back with a stick. They allow you to just stand on the grounds, right there with these crocs hanging around, no less than 15 feet away. Great photo ops. That was fun, and funny, although I wasn't feeling so hot. By the time we had left the Botel and gotten to our next destination, I was in no mood for touring, although this was something I couldn't miss. We visited Elmina Castle, which is the oldest extant European building in possibly all of Africa, built by the Portuguese in 1482. But that is not the real significance of this place...the historical fortitude of this fort was that it was the major slave-trading quarters for the Continent. Already feeling woozy, I felt a tremendous burden of tragedy and lack of focus during the tour of the underground dungeons where they kept human beings in total darkness without sanitation or fresh air. I believe being there added to my malaise, but I am glad I was able to see first hand how the ancestors of so many Americans began their sad journey.
The weekend ended pretty uneventfully, with a long, uncomfortable tro tro ride home. The rest of the week went by pretty much without a hitch, aside from the departure of our volunteers, one by one. The outreach went really well. The kids in this particular school were great, and very receptive, and make me look forward to really bearing down and working hard these last few weeks! Outreach for today begins in 15 minutes, so until next time!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Akwaaba to Ghana! Welcome to Ghana!
Let me familiarize you with some Ghanaian terms and people:
1. Tro Tro- The tro tro is a mini-bus. It is a 3-4 rowed van that acts as a local taxi. They jam as many people as possible into the tro tro and proceed to drive where-ever, collecting money as they go. There are seats at the end of each row that can fold up or down, depending on how many humans the tro tro will be transporting. This is an especially fun mode of transportation on a very hot day with lots of dust flying through the windows. They usually sport stickers on their back windows, mostly like Jesus Blessed or God's Love, Roots, or something like that, along with completely non-cohesive pictures of a white baby or a some Karate Kid looking fella. Quite amusing. The program has it's own tro tro and driver, and it seems luxurious compared to the public ones. We are often treated to a live round of drumming and songs by our musicians and dancers. Ghanaian radio, gotta love it.
An aside: Ghana is a very religious country so every little shop or cart is called "God's Love Barber" or "Blessed Be Fast Food, " or "Praise Allah Catering." Ghanaians are very literal people.
2. Fu Fu, Kenke, and Jollof rice-
African foods. Fu Fu is like a mush dough made from cassava root that is served in stew(there is this peanut stew that everyone eats). You eat it one handed(right-handed), and don't chew(it has no taste). It's a bit like taking a jello shot. No offense to Abby, but ew. Fu Fu is a no no. Kenke is the African tamale, a corn meal ball cooked inside the corn leaves, served with a smoked fish and sort of salsa (a spicy sauce on the side). It tastes a bit like sour-dough bread, and is pretty yummy. Jollof is a fried rice that is very spicy and tasty--however the spice was too extreme for our already weary tummies and we couldn't really eat it. Oh well. You can get anything with fish, chicken or goat here, in stews or on kabobs but I haven't really ventured into the meat-on-a-stick realm yet. I really enjoy this dish Auntie Dinah makes, which is like a cabbage stew over rice with fish. It tastes like stuffed cabbage because it has a tomato base.
Other delicacies you can try in Ghana are plantains--dried, fried, cooked--, peanuts, pineapple, watermelons, bananas, bread and pizza. Oh yes, Pizza. We went into the city last night for pizza and I have to say it wasn't half bad. The electricity was out in our village, so we stayed on at a little outside bar and watched a troupe of acrobats perform on the street. They had a pygmy with them, who we first mistook for a 5 year boy. Interesting, indeed.
3. Obronie, Obri Brene and Fine-
I, my friends, am an Obronie. It means white. So when I walk down the street, I hear children cry "Obronie, Obronie!" They really just want you to respond to them, so we yell back, "Obri Brene!" Which means black. It's hilarious, and they giggle, just happy to have you acknowledge them. (Ob-ron-ee, and Obrey-breanie are what they sound like)
We joke about ourselves as Obronies but as we always travel with locals, the merchants say I'm Obri brene and give me good prices! Score.
Whenever you ask someone how they are, they reply "I am fine." So it's ok to ask someone, "Are you fine?" I think it means good, so fine is good, and fine is fine. Sometimes, when you are asking someone a question such as, "Are you going to the market?" They will answer, "Yes, please." Communication here is funny because most people speak English but a lot of things are lost in translation.
4. Godziela-
Godziela (sic: Godzilla) is really my brother, Ebenezer. He is really well known around town because he sings and raps. So wherever we go, people yell out "Godziela!" It's funny because his father (the head of our host family) has a brother who is a chief, so he is a prince. We get escorted around town by a famous rapper/prince. He is a very sweet man who always helps us, breaks into song and dance, and makes me laugh. I had the distinct pleasure of telling him the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, which he hadn't heard before.
5. Issac-
Issac is one of the dancers with our program, but he is also our 24-hour concierge/servant. He is originally from Cameroon, but found himself here and now lives with our program directors. Like many of the young people here, is has lost a parent and lost touch with his family, so he basically is at the mercy of helpful friends or strangers. But through the program he is able to dance and interact with the volunteers--and he is amazing at it. A beautiful dancer, a full of life young man who is immature at times, but animated, engaging and very kind-hearted.
*I can condense my other friends into a few sentences...Iddi is drummer/dancer, a quite, considerate person who is laid back and cool. Rasta is the Sankofa Center communications person, who translates into local languages at our Outreach. He is soft-spoken, smart, and polite. Ronnie and James are the Cali and Local directors, respectively, and I have to say, I haven't spent as much time with them as I have the others, but Ronnie is very dedicated to the cause of spreading AIDS awareness(if anyone is familiar with my old boss Angela, he is sort of like her).
6. SANKOFA CENTER FOR AFRICAN DANCE AND CULTURE-
This is the program...the reason I am here. This week was the beginning of our outreach! On Tues. we traveled to a local school and demonstrated our dance dramas. They all combine traditional dances and hypothetical situations about contracting HIV/AIDS. Our first performance was a hit! The children seemed to love it! Afterward, we rewarded ourselves with a swim at a local motel in a very dirty, but chlorinated, and refreshing pool.
So Wed. we returned to the same school and did our AIDS informational seminar, followed by questions and answers and a game. They seemed to retain a lot of info, however, it was a lot to learn in a short period of time. Today was the most intense program experience yet--we, the volunteers, musicians, and dancers, traveled to a little village up on a jungley hillside. It seemed even nicer than where we are living, but something tells me they lack the "modern" conveniences that we do, i.e. they are POOR. So we did a large scale version of what we do at the schools, including the dance dramas, AIDS 101, counseling and TESTING! Yes, ladies and gents, I took part in testing other human beings for the HIV virus. I am not a medical professional, although I do not think it is a prerequisite here (in fact I know that it's not), butI therefore was not pricking fingers and drawing blood (this was done by my new hero Beth, and in a very sanitary and safe matter, might I add) but using the chemical buffer on their blood samples to see whether or not they were HIV positive. This was all of our first experiences with this sort of thing, and so it was extremely heart-wrenching; 2 out of about 27 people tested positive. I think it scared Beth the most, because she administered the tests, had to actually draw their blood ( in medical gloves, of course). I believe it was disheartening because both of them were women and both had or were pregnant with young children. But I rationalized that the facts were the facts and that these people had the disease out there and that with the knowledge of their status they are now able to be proactive, to get the ARV drugs and protect their children. So it goes in an AIDS ridden world, continent, country. We can't escape the ugliness and we can't escape the reality. I feel good about enabling people to make good choices about their futures. Hopefully all the negative people have listened to our message and will now practice safer sex and be tested regularly. This will most likely be my schedule for the next 4 weeks. And you know what? That is when I feel best, when I can forget myself, focus on the task at hand, and contribute.
BUT--tomorrow we leave for Cape Coast, for a get away to the beach and the rainforest. God, I love weekends!
Meda se = Thank you!
For reading. For supporting me! I love you!
1. Tro Tro- The tro tro is a mini-bus. It is a 3-4 rowed van that acts as a local taxi. They jam as many people as possible into the tro tro and proceed to drive where-ever, collecting money as they go. There are seats at the end of each row that can fold up or down, depending on how many humans the tro tro will be transporting. This is an especially fun mode of transportation on a very hot day with lots of dust flying through the windows. They usually sport stickers on their back windows, mostly like Jesus Blessed or God's Love, Roots, or something like that, along with completely non-cohesive pictures of a white baby or a some Karate Kid looking fella. Quite amusing. The program has it's own tro tro and driver, and it seems luxurious compared to the public ones. We are often treated to a live round of drumming and songs by our musicians and dancers. Ghanaian radio, gotta love it.
An aside: Ghana is a very religious country so every little shop or cart is called "God's Love Barber" or "Blessed Be Fast Food, " or "Praise Allah Catering." Ghanaians are very literal people.
2. Fu Fu, Kenke, and Jollof rice-
African foods. Fu Fu is like a mush dough made from cassava root that is served in stew(there is this peanut stew that everyone eats). You eat it one handed(right-handed), and don't chew(it has no taste). It's a bit like taking a jello shot. No offense to Abby, but ew. Fu Fu is a no no. Kenke is the African tamale, a corn meal ball cooked inside the corn leaves, served with a smoked fish and sort of salsa (a spicy sauce on the side). It tastes a bit like sour-dough bread, and is pretty yummy. Jollof is a fried rice that is very spicy and tasty--however the spice was too extreme for our already weary tummies and we couldn't really eat it. Oh well. You can get anything with fish, chicken or goat here, in stews or on kabobs but I haven't really ventured into the meat-on-a-stick realm yet. I really enjoy this dish Auntie Dinah makes, which is like a cabbage stew over rice with fish. It tastes like stuffed cabbage because it has a tomato base.
Other delicacies you can try in Ghana are plantains--dried, fried, cooked--, peanuts, pineapple, watermelons, bananas, bread and pizza. Oh yes, Pizza. We went into the city last night for pizza and I have to say it wasn't half bad. The electricity was out in our village, so we stayed on at a little outside bar and watched a troupe of acrobats perform on the street. They had a pygmy with them, who we first mistook for a 5 year boy. Interesting, indeed.
3. Obronie, Obri Brene and Fine-
I, my friends, am an Obronie. It means white. So when I walk down the street, I hear children cry "Obronie, Obronie!" They really just want you to respond to them, so we yell back, "Obri Brene!" Which means black. It's hilarious, and they giggle, just happy to have you acknowledge them. (Ob-ron-ee, and Obrey-breanie are what they sound like)
We joke about ourselves as Obronies but as we always travel with locals, the merchants say I'm Obri brene and give me good prices! Score.
Whenever you ask someone how they are, they reply "I am fine." So it's ok to ask someone, "Are you fine?" I think it means good, so fine is good, and fine is fine. Sometimes, when you are asking someone a question such as, "Are you going to the market?" They will answer, "Yes, please." Communication here is funny because most people speak English but a lot of things are lost in translation.
4. Godziela-
Godziela (sic: Godzilla) is really my brother, Ebenezer. He is really well known around town because he sings and raps. So wherever we go, people yell out "Godziela!" It's funny because his father (the head of our host family) has a brother who is a chief, so he is a prince. We get escorted around town by a famous rapper/prince. He is a very sweet man who always helps us, breaks into song and dance, and makes me laugh. I had the distinct pleasure of telling him the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, which he hadn't heard before.
5. Issac-
Issac is one of the dancers with our program, but he is also our 24-hour concierge/servant. He is originally from Cameroon, but found himself here and now lives with our program directors. Like many of the young people here, is has lost a parent and lost touch with his family, so he basically is at the mercy of helpful friends or strangers. But through the program he is able to dance and interact with the volunteers--and he is amazing at it. A beautiful dancer, a full of life young man who is immature at times, but animated, engaging and very kind-hearted.
*I can condense my other friends into a few sentences...Iddi is drummer/dancer, a quite, considerate person who is laid back and cool. Rasta is the Sankofa Center communications person, who translates into local languages at our Outreach. He is soft-spoken, smart, and polite. Ronnie and James are the Cali and Local directors, respectively, and I have to say, I haven't spent as much time with them as I have the others, but Ronnie is very dedicated to the cause of spreading AIDS awareness(if anyone is familiar with my old boss Angela, he is sort of like her).
6. SANKOFA CENTER FOR AFRICAN DANCE AND CULTURE-
This is the program...the reason I am here. This week was the beginning of our outreach! On Tues. we traveled to a local school and demonstrated our dance dramas. They all combine traditional dances and hypothetical situations about contracting HIV/AIDS. Our first performance was a hit! The children seemed to love it! Afterward, we rewarded ourselves with a swim at a local motel in a very dirty, but chlorinated, and refreshing pool.
So Wed. we returned to the same school and did our AIDS informational seminar, followed by questions and answers and a game. They seemed to retain a lot of info, however, it was a lot to learn in a short period of time. Today was the most intense program experience yet--we, the volunteers, musicians, and dancers, traveled to a little village up on a jungley hillside. It seemed even nicer than where we are living, but something tells me they lack the "modern" conveniences that we do, i.e. they are POOR. So we did a large scale version of what we do at the schools, including the dance dramas, AIDS 101, counseling and TESTING! Yes, ladies and gents, I took part in testing other human beings for the HIV virus. I am not a medical professional, although I do not think it is a prerequisite here (in fact I know that it's not), butI therefore was not pricking fingers and drawing blood (this was done by my new hero Beth, and in a very sanitary and safe matter, might I add) but using the chemical buffer on their blood samples to see whether or not they were HIV positive. This was all of our first experiences with this sort of thing, and so it was extremely heart-wrenching; 2 out of about 27 people tested positive. I think it scared Beth the most, because she administered the tests, had to actually draw their blood ( in medical gloves, of course). I believe it was disheartening because both of them were women and both had or were pregnant with young children. But I rationalized that the facts were the facts and that these people had the disease out there and that with the knowledge of their status they are now able to be proactive, to get the ARV drugs and protect their children. So it goes in an AIDS ridden world, continent, country. We can't escape the ugliness and we can't escape the reality. I feel good about enabling people to make good choices about their futures. Hopefully all the negative people have listened to our message and will now practice safer sex and be tested regularly. This will most likely be my schedule for the next 4 weeks. And you know what? That is when I feel best, when I can forget myself, focus on the task at hand, and contribute.
BUT--tomorrow we leave for Cape Coast, for a get away to the beach and the rainforest. God, I love weekends!
Meda se = Thank you!
For reading. For supporting me! I love you!
Sunday, September 9, 2007
The Good the Bad and the Ugly
Finally. I have time to write. Let me begin by telling you that I can't even articulate what it is really like here in Ghana, but that by my 2nd day here I had no idea what I had gotten myself into, and seriously wanted to go home. But now it's been a week and a after a nice, fun weekend in Kokrobite, a beach "resort" and I am feeling semi-normal and enjoying myself.
I arrived at 8 o'clock on Tues. night and was picked up with a girl from my program named Rebecca, who is currently my roommate. We were taken into a completely different world-- a concrete compound with a very extended family--Auntie Dinah, Papa, Ebenezer, Zimbatia, Nicolas, Felicia, Janet, George and the little ones, Edna and Edward. There are always new people I have yet to meet hanging around the house. The 3 other volunteers were there to greet us, and being that I really had to use the restroom, I was immediately schooled by a stranger in the Ghanian way of peeing in the "shower." It's a concrete 4 sided structure that has no roof but a drain, so you pee there and take your bucket shower there as well. Our room is set up like a dorm situation with bunk beds and mosquito nets, and that is where we "take" all of our meals, (as a local would say). The meals are typically bread and butter for breakfast, as Auntie Dinah bakes and sells the bread to our neighborhood. (It is called Dome by the way. Pronounced Doe-may) Dogs, cats and chickens run freely through out the house, but you have to understand that it is not our type of house--it's very airy and doesn't have any outside doors. It helps you to really hate roosters. The backyard consists of the dump, a large heap of rubbish, a chicken/rabbit coop, the aforementioned shower, and of course, my favorite, the outhouse. If you ever find yourself in the situation of using a community outhouse with not toilet seat, the best advice I can give you is to breath through your mouth and forget you have a nose. The neighboring bar has to rent out space from Auntie Dinah because she has a refrigerator, so you go across the street to buy beer and they come to our house to get it. Funny, eh? (One of the volunteers is Canadian, and eh is quite catching)
Everyone is so nice and we have had so many laughs over our culture shock and bonded quickly. Ghanaians are very touchy feely people and it is not usual to have someone holding your hand as a friendly gesture. You have to get used to people always wanting to talk to you, shake your and and hug you on a 24 hour basis. The guys involved in the program are our constant guardians, they go everywhere with us, do everything for us, are very sweet and trust-worthy. So, my other brothers here are named Issac, Eddie (pronounced Edie) Rasta, and James. On the third night there, Yotam, the token male volunteer, brought out his guitar and we all had a lovely sing-along with the family and neighbors. It was a great night and helped me slip a little further into a comfort zone. (and I do mean a little, because I still can't really sleep all that well though my appetite is greatly improved. Still, we can't finish a plate for some reason).
The program is very intense. These people have been dancing and drumming all their lives but expect us to pick up the steps right way. We have learned 3 dances, along with accompanying AIDS dramas which we practice in a rural village. Tons of people, especially children, come out to watch us practice and I am TRYING, but that's about all I can say as for my dancing progress. It's funny because at practice you are such a spectacle but you are so busy being a voyeur that you hardly notice. One particular little girl always finds me and hangs on to my hand, smiling proudly at her friends. It's a trip. Our actual first performance is on Tues. so one more day to practice and we go into the trenches. I think the fact that us North Americans are trying to be a part of the culture is what really matters and it draws a big crowd. I'm excited and a bit nervous. It is so crazy barely eating and then working out but atleast it's a cooler time of year, over-cast and muggy, but pretty bareable.
After a grueling 3 days (yes it was only 3 days!) we got to take that excursion to the beach that I was talking about. It was a little rustic paradise, at Big Milly's Backyard a community of bungalows, Rastafarains, travelers and locals situated beach-side. I was thrilled to get there and eat spaghetti, have my shower come out of a hose instead of a bucket and to escape the roosters for 2 nights. Last night they had a giant Reggae party, complete with live music and endless dancing (in the rain nontheless). So many nice people from all over the world came there as a retreat--2 guys working at a Liberian refugee camp, a British medical student, some serious Rastas who really felt my vibe etc. etc. I was a hit at the concert, being bombarded with 3 men at a time attempting to dance with me. I was able to elude them (mostly, with some help from my girls and Ghanaian brothers). I woke up this morning feeling great as I got a good night's sleep for maybe the first time since my arrival thanks to some Ambien.
So, I know my writing is so crazy but so am I, rushing against the clock to get out as much as possible, yet missing so many details! Is Africa, poor? Yes. Is it dirty? Yes. Have we gotten sick? You betcha. Is it so amazingly foreign that it makes my head spin? Yes. But the most important thing is that this is experience has already been so valuable and overwhelming and humbling! I miss my loved ones like no other and I appreciate home so very much! It is actually agonizing how much I miss Brett. Thanks for reading! I'm looking forward to your comments! Bye for now! :)
I arrived at 8 o'clock on Tues. night and was picked up with a girl from my program named Rebecca, who is currently my roommate. We were taken into a completely different world-- a concrete compound with a very extended family--Auntie Dinah, Papa, Ebenezer, Zimbatia, Nicolas, Felicia, Janet, George and the little ones, Edna and Edward. There are always new people I have yet to meet hanging around the house. The 3 other volunteers were there to greet us, and being that I really had to use the restroom, I was immediately schooled by a stranger in the Ghanian way of peeing in the "shower." It's a concrete 4 sided structure that has no roof but a drain, so you pee there and take your bucket shower there as well. Our room is set up like a dorm situation with bunk beds and mosquito nets, and that is where we "take" all of our meals, (as a local would say). The meals are typically bread and butter for breakfast, as Auntie Dinah bakes and sells the bread to our neighborhood. (It is called Dome by the way. Pronounced Doe-may) Dogs, cats and chickens run freely through out the house, but you have to understand that it is not our type of house--it's very airy and doesn't have any outside doors. It helps you to really hate roosters. The backyard consists of the dump, a large heap of rubbish, a chicken/rabbit coop, the aforementioned shower, and of course, my favorite, the outhouse. If you ever find yourself in the situation of using a community outhouse with not toilet seat, the best advice I can give you is to breath through your mouth and forget you have a nose. The neighboring bar has to rent out space from Auntie Dinah because she has a refrigerator, so you go across the street to buy beer and they come to our house to get it. Funny, eh? (One of the volunteers is Canadian, and eh is quite catching)
Everyone is so nice and we have had so many laughs over our culture shock and bonded quickly. Ghanaians are very touchy feely people and it is not usual to have someone holding your hand as a friendly gesture. You have to get used to people always wanting to talk to you, shake your and and hug you on a 24 hour basis. The guys involved in the program are our constant guardians, they go everywhere with us, do everything for us, are very sweet and trust-worthy. So, my other brothers here are named Issac, Eddie (pronounced Edie) Rasta, and James. On the third night there, Yotam, the token male volunteer, brought out his guitar and we all had a lovely sing-along with the family and neighbors. It was a great night and helped me slip a little further into a comfort zone. (and I do mean a little, because I still can't really sleep all that well though my appetite is greatly improved. Still, we can't finish a plate for some reason).
The program is very intense. These people have been dancing and drumming all their lives but expect us to pick up the steps right way. We have learned 3 dances, along with accompanying AIDS dramas which we practice in a rural village. Tons of people, especially children, come out to watch us practice and I am TRYING, but that's about all I can say as for my dancing progress. It's funny because at practice you are such a spectacle but you are so busy being a voyeur that you hardly notice. One particular little girl always finds me and hangs on to my hand, smiling proudly at her friends. It's a trip. Our actual first performance is on Tues. so one more day to practice and we go into the trenches. I think the fact that us North Americans are trying to be a part of the culture is what really matters and it draws a big crowd. I'm excited and a bit nervous. It is so crazy barely eating and then working out but atleast it's a cooler time of year, over-cast and muggy, but pretty bareable.
After a grueling 3 days (yes it was only 3 days!) we got to take that excursion to the beach that I was talking about. It was a little rustic paradise, at Big Milly's Backyard a community of bungalows, Rastafarains, travelers and locals situated beach-side. I was thrilled to get there and eat spaghetti, have my shower come out of a hose instead of a bucket and to escape the roosters for 2 nights. Last night they had a giant Reggae party, complete with live music and endless dancing (in the rain nontheless). So many nice people from all over the world came there as a retreat--2 guys working at a Liberian refugee camp, a British medical student, some serious Rastas who really felt my vibe etc. etc. I was a hit at the concert, being bombarded with 3 men at a time attempting to dance with me. I was able to elude them (mostly, with some help from my girls and Ghanaian brothers). I woke up this morning feeling great as I got a good night's sleep for maybe the first time since my arrival thanks to some Ambien.
So, I know my writing is so crazy but so am I, rushing against the clock to get out as much as possible, yet missing so many details! Is Africa, poor? Yes. Is it dirty? Yes. Have we gotten sick? You betcha. Is it so amazingly foreign that it makes my head spin? Yes. But the most important thing is that this is experience has already been so valuable and overwhelming and humbling! I miss my loved ones like no other and I appreciate home so very much! It is actually agonizing how much I miss Brett. Thanks for reading! I'm looking forward to your comments! Bye for now! :)
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Getting Ready
Everyone I talk to about Africa keeps telling me to "be careful over there." Well, I can assure you that I won't be running around barefoot in piles of broken glass, drinking out of marshy ponds, wandering the streets alone at night, or eating raw meat, so all those worry-worts out there can relax. I'm a very safety-oriented person, a bit to a fault...I spend nights online reading about mosquitoes. Apparently, lighter clothing and cat nip oil are two ways to make you less attractive to them. Nonetheless, I shall be slathered in DEET and wearing long sleeves. 4 days and counting....
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Will I survive this trip?
Yikes! In complete Juliesque fashion I left my packing list at the art museum. I think. It could have fallen out of my purse somewhere, which makes me sort of sad. But I don't think this is a sign of things to come as I feel pretty well prepared for the trip to GHANA that leaves in ONE WEEK. Don't be scared.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
