I'm probably not coherent enough to post right now, but I landed in the US about two hours ago and am waiting on my last flight. By the time I get to Austin I'll have been traveling for 36 hours. I feel (and I look) like it.
I just purchased, drank, and threw away the cup of a drink from Starbucks. The range of thoughts I had about that small activity astounded me - even in my foggy-brained state.
1. There are so many choices. What do I pick to drink?
2. $4.50 for a coffee is about 7 Ghana cedis, which would feed one of the Center kids six meals. Food for thought indeed.
3. So many trash cans to throw my cup into! And recycling options also.
There's a good bit more swirling in my head, but I'll save the philosophizing for later.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
The Beginning of the End
The coming week is my last in Ghana. Of course, I am feeling a complicated layering of emotions. I'm sad to say goodbye to the kids, two in particular, one of whom I'm strongly considering paying for the remainder of his schooling. He is 16 and one of the most funny, sweet, and hardworking kids I've ever met. He wants to attend university in the States eventually. I hope this is something we can turn from an un-likelihood to a probability.
I'm feeling excited to come home, and ready to see the people I love again. I lost a friend in Eguafo yesterday. There's a group of dogs in the village and there was one who was such a sweet and good dog. None of the dogs have names, but we named this one Spot because of the brown spot on top of his white head. I'd give Spot scratches every day, and he liked to sleep on top of a wooden bench under the carpenter's work area just near our house. I also gave him my scraps from meals. He gave me puppy dog affection when the people here just don't get it. He was my surrogate dog in Africa. Yesterday he was hit by a car on the paved road that runs through our village. We buried him by the old school, but then The man in charge of the orphanage and school said he had to be dug up because if we buried the body the person who hit him would be cursed. So the other volunteer (who is male) and the boy (he's 20) who Spot sort of belonged took the body and laid it in the forest instead. I'm relieved that's what happened. Rural Africa...could have been something much more shocking.
The Africans have all thought I'm crazy for crying over a dog, but he was a friendly face to me and a joyful part of my day. Spot, I hope you're in doggie heaven chasing chickens and getting lots of leftovers.
Needless to say, this loss has made me yearn for home a bit more. I plan to spend my next week focusing only on the kids and hanging out with my buddies I've made. Although I leave Eguafo next Tuesday, I know this experience and these connections will be with me for much much longer.
I'm feeling excited to come home, and ready to see the people I love again. I lost a friend in Eguafo yesterday. There's a group of dogs in the village and there was one who was such a sweet and good dog. None of the dogs have names, but we named this one Spot because of the brown spot on top of his white head. I'd give Spot scratches every day, and he liked to sleep on top of a wooden bench under the carpenter's work area just near our house. I also gave him my scraps from meals. He gave me puppy dog affection when the people here just don't get it. He was my surrogate dog in Africa. Yesterday he was hit by a car on the paved road that runs through our village. We buried him by the old school, but then The man in charge of the orphanage and school said he had to be dug up because if we buried the body the person who hit him would be cursed. So the other volunteer (who is male) and the boy (he's 20) who Spot sort of belonged took the body and laid it in the forest instead. I'm relieved that's what happened. Rural Africa...could have been something much more shocking.
The Africans have all thought I'm crazy for crying over a dog, but he was a friendly face to me and a joyful part of my day. Spot, I hope you're in doggie heaven chasing chickens and getting lots of leftovers.
Needless to say, this loss has made me yearn for home a bit more. I plan to spend my next week focusing only on the kids and hanging out with my buddies I've made. Although I leave Eguafo next Tuesday, I know this experience and these connections will be with me for much much longer.
Monday, August 13, 2012
What I Miss: A 3/4 Mark Reflection
What I miss (besides people and a certain dog):
Food: I really miss cold fresh food. Fresh fruit and veg is not easy to come by. I also miss choosing my own food.
Indoor plumbing: but really this is only toilet-specific. Some days I don't want to haul any water after I use the facilities. Bucket showers are fine though. It's amazing to learn I can shower my whole body and wash my hair with a 2 gallon bucket of water.
Forms of entertainment: we have a fair amount of downtime and when there's not much to do, there's really not much to do.
What I don't miss:
Air conditioning: can you believe this? It's just not really hot here and I'm rarely uncomfortable temperature wise.
Schedules and Western stress: I mean really, would you? Sometimes I do miss knowing when something is really going to happen but you learn to deal with that.
Usually, I don't miss news or the Internet. Although if we had Internet it would be a form of entertainment.
Honestly, this isn't a complete list, but what I think most about is food. Somebody meet me at the airport with a smoothie and a cold mesquite-smoked chicken sandwich from Thundercloud! Yum, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.
Food: I really miss cold fresh food. Fresh fruit and veg is not easy to come by. I also miss choosing my own food.
Indoor plumbing: but really this is only toilet-specific. Some days I don't want to haul any water after I use the facilities. Bucket showers are fine though. It's amazing to learn I can shower my whole body and wash my hair with a 2 gallon bucket of water.
Forms of entertainment: we have a fair amount of downtime and when there's not much to do, there's really not much to do.
What I don't miss:
Air conditioning: can you believe this? It's just not really hot here and I'm rarely uncomfortable temperature wise.
Schedules and Western stress: I mean really, would you? Sometimes I do miss knowing when something is really going to happen but you learn to deal with that.
Usually, I don't miss news or the Internet. Although if we had Internet it would be a form of entertainment.
Honestly, this isn't a complete list, but what I think most about is food. Somebody meet me at the airport with a smoothie and a cold mesquite-smoked chicken sandwich from Thundercloud! Yum, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.
Friday, August 10, 2012
The Luxury of Quiet
It turns out that a little peace and quiet is a first world luxury (of course, this is based only on my limited developing world experience). There is never a guarantee of silence around here. Your best bet is on a weeknight between midnight and 4 AM. Try to get REM sleep in that window.
After 4 AM, the roosters start crowing. One was on the porch this morning, approximately six feet away from my head through a screen window. After the rooster, the buckets of water start filling at the faucet in front of our house around five. With buckets come people, of course, and while Ghanaians are generally friendly and helpful, they are a boisterous bunch at any hour. There are many early and loud discussions/arguments/conversations in Fante around the faucet (fifteen feet from my head).
Roosters are roosters, people are people, but the real head scratcher is the village loudspeaker. It starts playing African pop music (usually static-y) about 5:45 AM and continues most of the morning. On Sundays, it plays hymns. [Although this past Sunday the loud speaker was beaten to the punch by a roaming creature/lunatic SCREAMING in Fante about Jesus in front of our house at 5 AM. We were a grumpy group at breakfast.]
Besides the random screaming creatures/people, the loudspeaker is the worst. Especially the static.
The rest of the day is a hodgepodge of people, chickens, goats, loudspeaker. In a village like this, there is little to no personal space, and no central air means screened open windows. Earplugs muffle but don't eliminate. I've found the best solution for a mental escape is to put in earbuds and play non-static-y music of my choice.
The past few days have been particularly noisy in Eguafo. There was a street party Monday night, with lots of dancing in preparation for Tuesday's festival swearing in a new chief of Eguafo. There was a street procession with a marching band, lots of people in traditional dress, the new chief with a crown and goblet of gold (this was the gold coast, afterall) and a man who had a goat slung over his shoulder. I heard the goat was going to be slaughtered and then its blood poured across the new chief's feet. There was music all day and night in celebration.
Although all this noise is so strange to my Western ears, I wonder if after two months of this the peace and quiet of my house will take some adjustment as well.
After 4 AM, the roosters start crowing. One was on the porch this morning, approximately six feet away from my head through a screen window. After the rooster, the buckets of water start filling at the faucet in front of our house around five. With buckets come people, of course, and while Ghanaians are generally friendly and helpful, they are a boisterous bunch at any hour. There are many early and loud discussions/arguments/conversations in Fante around the faucet (fifteen feet from my head).
Roosters are roosters, people are people, but the real head scratcher is the village loudspeaker. It starts playing African pop music (usually static-y) about 5:45 AM and continues most of the morning. On Sundays, it plays hymns. [Although this past Sunday the loud speaker was beaten to the punch by a roaming creature/lunatic SCREAMING in Fante about Jesus in front of our house at 5 AM. We were a grumpy group at breakfast.]
Besides the random screaming creatures/people, the loudspeaker is the worst. Especially the static.
The rest of the day is a hodgepodge of people, chickens, goats, loudspeaker. In a village like this, there is little to no personal space, and no central air means screened open windows. Earplugs muffle but don't eliminate. I've found the best solution for a mental escape is to put in earbuds and play non-static-y music of my choice.
The past few days have been particularly noisy in Eguafo. There was a street party Monday night, with lots of dancing in preparation for Tuesday's festival swearing in a new chief of Eguafo. There was a street procession with a marching band, lots of people in traditional dress, the new chief with a crown and goblet of gold (this was the gold coast, afterall) and a man who had a goat slung over his shoulder. I heard the goat was going to be slaughtered and then its blood poured across the new chief's feet. There was music all day and night in celebration.
Although all this noise is so strange to my Western ears, I wonder if after two months of this the peace and quiet of my house will take some adjustment as well.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Tinkle Ball
This week the kids were doing African drumming and dancing at the center. There's always a big crowd watching on the steps, which are raised above the drummers, with a porch and entrance to the center above and behind the steps. We were sitting on the stairs watching, and some of the smaller village kids were playing with a beach ball behind us. Sometimes it would roll or fly onto innocent spectators.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch one of the babies (eighteen months, maybe) tinkle right on the porch and make a big puddle. [see post on trash]
With the drumming and dancing still going on, the other kids continue throwing/rolling the beach ball on the porch. Totally grossed out, I caught the eye of Katie, a fellow volunteer, and we dissolved into laughter as we tried to dodge the ball that was now covered in tinkle. And so was born the game known as Tinkleball.
T.I.A. (This Is Africa)
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch one of the babies (eighteen months, maybe) tinkle right on the porch and make a big puddle. [see post on trash]
With the drumming and dancing still going on, the other kids continue throwing/rolling the beach ball on the porch. Totally grossed out, I caught the eye of Katie, a fellow volunteer, and we dissolved into laughter as we tried to dodge the ball that was now covered in tinkle. And so was born the game known as Tinkleball.
T.I.A. (This Is Africa)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Finding a Niche
I can never decide if that word is pronounced "nitch" or "neesh", but I think I finally found one here in Eguafo. We have had several volunteers leave in the past two weeks. I miss them but going from 8 volunteers to 4 seems to have opened more energetic space. And physical space too, since i now have my room to myself.
I've been looking for something that can be my pet project while I'm here; some small thing I can do to make a small difference. So last week while in Cape Coast, I tracked down a packet of needles and two spools of thread. And I began mending clothes. At first I was focusing on school uniforms, because the children wear them everyday and most of them have sleeves hanging half off, or the bottom seam of their pants ripped open. Then I started getting all types of things given to me. Soccer shorts, skirts, trousers, anything really. It's a minor thing, but I feel productive and the kids get to keep wearing their clothes. Well, they'd wear them anyway but at least now their underwear aren't hanging out the back of their pants.
I've also gotten to know some of the Center kids so much better, and we have some characters. Last week, the kids were breaking up rocks into gravel to spread under the tile of the new orphanage building - at least that's my guess at the purpose - and one boy Dominic who is 12 was sitting on top of the barrel the workers mix concrete in. He's a skinny little dude with the best giggle, and I looked over at one point and gravity had taken over. His rear end had sunk down in the barrel and his arms and legs were sticking straight up and he couldn't get out or stop giggling. Edwin, one of the older boys, had to go lift him out. It was good comic relief - in fact, Dominic usually is.
These kiddos start to dig in to your heart, and you see so much potential in some of them, but with very little outlet. They will be hard to say goodbye to.
I've been looking for something that can be my pet project while I'm here; some small thing I can do to make a small difference. So last week while in Cape Coast, I tracked down a packet of needles and two spools of thread. And I began mending clothes. At first I was focusing on school uniforms, because the children wear them everyday and most of them have sleeves hanging half off, or the bottom seam of their pants ripped open. Then I started getting all types of things given to me. Soccer shorts, skirts, trousers, anything really. It's a minor thing, but I feel productive and the kids get to keep wearing their clothes. Well, they'd wear them anyway but at least now their underwear aren't hanging out the back of their pants.
I've also gotten to know some of the Center kids so much better, and we have some characters. Last week, the kids were breaking up rocks into gravel to spread under the tile of the new orphanage building - at least that's my guess at the purpose - and one boy Dominic who is 12 was sitting on top of the barrel the workers mix concrete in. He's a skinny little dude with the best giggle, and I looked over at one point and gravity had taken over. His rear end had sunk down in the barrel and his arms and legs were sticking straight up and he couldn't get out or stop giggling. Edwin, one of the older boys, had to go lift him out. It was good comic relief - in fact, Dominic usually is.
These kiddos start to dig in to your heart, and you see so much potential in some of them, but with very little outlet. They will be hard to say goodbye to.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Tough Cookies
I realized I haven't written much about the school and the kids. The orphanage, Sankofa Children's Home (you can google that for the web page) is home to about 18 kids, most of them adolescents. The youngest is probably 8. They range from a few kids whose parents or relatives can't afford to care for them, some children who were street hustlers and have been brought to live in Eguafo, and a few whose parents didn't want them, for whatever reason. Hard to imagine, I know. Because the kids are older, our duties at the orphanage are pretty minimal - we work mostly at Sankofa school, which serves teh village children ranging in age from 2 years to 20 years (preK through grade 9). We do spend time with the children at the orphanage - which we call the Center - watching them have their traditional African dance and drumming lessons and tutoring them, and just generally speaking English with them. One of our group volunteer goals before we leave is to make sure all the kids get mosquito nets. Right now, i believe only 3 have nets.
Days at school are pretty chaotic. Besides the obvious physical differences between a rural African school and a US school, i've also found that teachers sometimes just choose to not show up, to leave, or to go to the break area and nap. And you can probably guess there's no such thing as substitute teachers here. As volunteers, we try to cobble together a lesson whenever possible, but discipline is pretty much out the window because the students know that we won't cane them - unlike their teachers. You end up just trying to find small ways to feel like you're doing anything, such as taking one student aside and explaining addition for the umpteenth time with your fingers. Or holding the little ones, because they just want to be picked up.
The kids are also tough. An American child wouldn't last 5 minutes. Not only do kids regularly get caned for bad behavior or bad grades, but they also wale on each other constantly. I've had to pull 8-year-olds apart more than once. It's so amazing - they beat on each other, scream and cry, and get over it. Tough cookies. I guess when you're hauling 3 gallon buckets of water on your head from the age of 6, you're no pansy. They also sharpen their pencils with razor blades. Now there's a surprise - you start to confiscate it but realize they're only trying to sharpen their pencil, and then they put it back in their pocket (or their mouth sometimes!). More than one fight has been nterrupted with half-sharpened pencil and razor blade in hand.
Of course, the students are also very sweet and generous. While they may ask for money or toffee (generic word for candy) without flinching, they will also offer me a bite of their rice-in-plastic-bag snack (no thank you) or help me with my laundry or sweep our front porch. Next week is the last week of exams (another study in lack of infrastructure and organized time) at the school, and then it's summer break for them for August. I think we'll be working more closely with the Center kids during August and helping construct the new house they are building.
One day here begins to drift into the next. They are all generally the same, but different in small ways. You start to wonder what it would be like if this was what your future held, and there wasn't an end date to your time here...I think there is just a whole different mindset. It's something we discuss a lot around the dinner table. Thanks to all of you that are reading and keeping up with me. I look forward to sharing my adventures with you in person in September!
Days at school are pretty chaotic. Besides the obvious physical differences between a rural African school and a US school, i've also found that teachers sometimes just choose to not show up, to leave, or to go to the break area and nap. And you can probably guess there's no such thing as substitute teachers here. As volunteers, we try to cobble together a lesson whenever possible, but discipline is pretty much out the window because the students know that we won't cane them - unlike their teachers. You end up just trying to find small ways to feel like you're doing anything, such as taking one student aside and explaining addition for the umpteenth time with your fingers. Or holding the little ones, because they just want to be picked up.
The kids are also tough. An American child wouldn't last 5 minutes. Not only do kids regularly get caned for bad behavior or bad grades, but they also wale on each other constantly. I've had to pull 8-year-olds apart more than once. It's so amazing - they beat on each other, scream and cry, and get over it. Tough cookies. I guess when you're hauling 3 gallon buckets of water on your head from the age of 6, you're no pansy. They also sharpen their pencils with razor blades. Now there's a surprise - you start to confiscate it but realize they're only trying to sharpen their pencil, and then they put it back in their pocket (or their mouth sometimes!). More than one fight has been nterrupted with half-sharpened pencil and razor blade in hand.
Of course, the students are also very sweet and generous. While they may ask for money or toffee (generic word for candy) without flinching, they will also offer me a bite of their rice-in-plastic-bag snack (no thank you) or help me with my laundry or sweep our front porch. Next week is the last week of exams (another study in lack of infrastructure and organized time) at the school, and then it's summer break for them for August. I think we'll be working more closely with the Center kids during August and helping construct the new house they are building.
One day here begins to drift into the next. They are all generally the same, but different in small ways. You start to wonder what it would be like if this was what your future held, and there wasn't an end date to your time here...I think there is just a whole different mindset. It's something we discuss a lot around the dinner table. Thanks to all of you that are reading and keeping up with me. I look forward to sharing my adventures with you in person in September!
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