Life As I Know It

I realize how unfortunate it is that I feel the need to sheepishly make excuses for the sporadic quality of my updates. I have been rather disappointed in myself for how infrequently I have added to this blog. But as it is not very interesting to write about my feelings of guilt on this matter, and I am sure even less interesting to read about it, I won't dwell on the subject. I will say that I have never been good at journaling on a regular basis (my personal journal is even more disgracefully empty than this blog). If I find something particularly inspiring to write about, then I find the motivation to write. But at this point in my service, (can you believe there are only seven months remaining before I come home??) I am simply living regular, uneventful life. I have to remind myself that my “regular, uneventful life” is a half a world's difference from what it has been in the past or will be in the future.

So what does life look like right now?

Knowing that my time here is winding down has put me in a strange mix of moods. In a way I have senioritis. I'm ready to take my life off of “pause” and get back to the real world... and of course that very same thing frightens me because I don't really know what that means. And there is the side of me that sees this as being “real life” and I am not sure how I am going to be able to adjust to the frantic pace that turns me into a distraction addict back at home. I can sit for hours here not doing anything... just watching and listening... and it feels right.

I miss home. A lot. It's funny, because for the first year and a half, i would “miss” home, but it wasn't really a heavy presence on my mind. Although at that time I struggled with Ghana a lot more. Now I don't feel like I struggle with Ghana nearly as much or as often as I did before. I now rarely have the emotional roller coaster of one minute thinking “I love Ghana, I love Ghana”, and the next thinking “I hate Ghana, I hate Ghana” and then back again. Before I would want to go home because I wasn't sure I could deal with things any longer more than for missing people (though I of course did miss them). Now I feel pretty well at peace with Ghana. That doesn't mean there are no more “down with Ghana” days, but they are much more far between. But my struggles with living in Ghana have been pretty heavily replaced with missing home, family, and friends. I'll be doing something fairly mundane, like watching chickens scratch while sucking on a mango (yes, that is a mundane activity for me... though still enjoyable), and I'll suddenly be struck with a memory of a silly inside joke between me and my sisters, or I'll suddenly see myself doing something really mundane at home, like sitting in my car at a stop light (hey, don't knock my style of homesickness until you've lived in a rural village for a year and a half). Anyway, that suddenly makes me feel really restless. I suddenly can't wait to get back home and try to get into the process of feeling normal in my native environment. And suddenly six or seven months seems like an eternity.

But just as often I will be doing something and I will be struck by a moment that I wish I could hold on to. The kind of moment that I know will be an ache inside me when I have been home for a few months and am missing Ghana. Last night the electricity was out (again) and I was lying in bed. It had rained earlier so the air was cool and I was not lying in a puddle of my own sweat. Everything was pitch black in a comforting sort of way – a darkness that you can cuddle up with. Because the lights were out, I didn't have the fan on, or my music, and I could hear the sounds of a night in Bethel in a way I hadn't listened to it in a while. I love those sounds. Crickets, frogs, laughing people... and the drums! I am afraid I won't be able to take any American seriously when I go back to the states and hear them playing bongo-style drums. There is just no comparison to the way they play the drums here. It sounds like that feeling of hope that you get when you anticipate a big change in your life and you just can't stay still for wanting it. And it makes sense, because that is the kind of hope that the people of Ghana cling to, so why wouldn't their music sound like it?

What's great about the way they drum is how it fits together. A proper drumming group will have between four and seven drummers, all repeating different beats. And it is strange if you pick it apart and listen to each beat separately, because they sound completely disconnected and like they have nothing to do with each other. But if you step back and listen to the sound as a whole, it is an intricate rhythm that rolls so fluidly that it is near impossible to hear it and keep from dancing. The Ghanaians sure can't stay still when someone is drumming, nor can they refrain from singing in celebration of life and of God. So, this is the sound that was embracing me with the dark last night, and it made me feel so glad to be right here, right now. And it made me realize what I will miss when I am back home.

Another thing that makes me want to stop time and put it in a bottle are my visits with my neighbor, Sister Rose. It took a while for the friendship between me and Sister Rose to develop. This seems to be a pattern with Ghanaian women. The men will immediately come up to you and make repeated efforts to have a conversation with you (though a lot of this can be marked up to them trying to “pick up” white women, it is not always the case, as they are that upfront in approaching any person; man or woman, foreigner or Ghanaian.) Some women will do this as well, but more often as you meet a Ghanaian woman, she will sit back and be friendly and welcoming with you, but also very reserved. She will watch you, trying to evaluate what kind of person you are, and how you will fit into her world. If you brave through the “probationary period” and continue to make an effort at friendship, the reward can be phenomenal. It was this way for me with Sister Rose. She was always very nice to me, but at the beginning she would hang back more when I would come to her house, and would let her husband, Pastor Divine, take the lead in welcoming me and visiting with me. That was fine, because Pastor Divine is also a very amazing man, and has been such a good and helpful neighbor to me. But as time went by, I got a few more opportunities to spend time with Sister Rose here and there, and I was so thrilled when I started seeing signs that she was opening up to me and considering me her personal friend. I started to find excuses to come to visit her at the store she runs, and I would hang around and talk a little after buying a coke. Then I saw that she would bake some different kinds of pastries to sell in her store, so I invited myself to come and “learn” how she baked. That has been our standing excuse for visiting time ever since, though any more I hardly need an excuse.

I love going to visit Sister Rose. Her face lights up in a big smile when she sees me coming, and she'll greet me with a big “Heeeey, Sistah Jeefah!” (“Hey, Sister Dzifa!”... Dzifa being my Ghanaian name, in case you've forgotten). She'll let me sit with her as she does her laundry or cooks. She will tell me what ingredients she's using in her palmnut soup, or why she uses key soap (locally made bar soap which smells nice but doesn't get out tough stains) for most of her wash, and only uses Omo (a crazy strong powdered detergent) for her whites (Omo causes fading... and it tears up my hands about as bad as sticking them in a vat of acid would). Once she sent me into fits of cackling laughter when she impersonated a baby goat being let out of its pen, hopping and twisting about and declaring “I won't be locked up again!!”

We talk about chickens a lot. Don't ask me why, it's just become our most frequent conversation topic. I've learned a lot about the social order of the chicken society. And learning it from Sister Rose is especially fun, because she'll let you know what exactly the chickens are telling each other in their discussions. One of my volunteer friends brought a chicken as a gift for Mama Margaret, and named her “Harriet”. After a lonely day or two locked up in our shed, Harriet decided she much preferred the freedom and company of Sister Rose's chickens. So now, Sister Rose will give me a daily update on the saga of "Harriet the Chicken", including her life, loves and losses. A chicken never had so much personality or intelligence as what Sister Rose gives Harriet. Visits with Sister Rose have become one of my defining factors for my experience in Ghana.

There are many other things I know I will miss about my current life. One is the interactions with other volunteers. Friendships between volunteers develop fast and grow deep. When you meet another volunteer (especially other Peace Corps volunteers), you already have a huge common ground of the shared experience of being a foreigner living in Ghana. That being the case, you pretty much already know each other, you just have to get to know the details. You can meet someone and within twenty minutes be sharing very personal details or struggles, because you both have been through the same things. I do have a bit of a fear of going back to the States after two years of being surrounded by people who know exactly what I've been going through without talking to me, to being surrounded by people who will struggle to understand after hours of explanation.

I will miss being more excited over eating a simple chocolate chip cookie or cleverly home-baked pizza than over having another “once-in-a-lifetime” experience. There are two points to that statement. One is that I came to a point where I realized that I have had so many of those “once-in-a-lifetime” type of experiences since I have been here that I don't have to think twice anymore about turning down various amazing opportunities in order to have the chance to stay home and rest. The other point is that... holy cow... you have no idea how exciting it is to occasionally have some well made home-style food. Especially when you and another volunteer friend have brilliantly contrived such a meal against all odds and the most haphazardly stocked pantry. Once I get back to the US, after the first week or so of “IT'S SO AMAZING TO HAVE AMERICAN FOOD ALL THE TIME”, I think it will be kind of a let down to be in a situation where cooking a good non-Ghanaian meal is no longer special and a major memory in the making. One thing I am proud of, and I think I will have cause to be pleased at even after returning to the states is the way my cooking abilities have expanded since I got here. One thing a Peace Corps Volunteer learns be is innovative with a very few available options. And cooking is not the least significant example of this. And may I add that just today I combined a few different recipes and added a few things of my own to bake the most divine chocolate coconut cookies... in a pot on top of the stove, no less.

Happy New Year - My last in Peace Corps...

I can't tell you how strange it is to say that it is 2008, because that is the year our group has been talking about since we got here as the year that we end our service. Sure, my COS (Close of Service) is still ten or so months away, but it is still very strange.
I had a pretty exciting Christmas and Holiday vacation. One of my friends, Jessica, and I took a trip up to the northern part of Ghana. It was my first time to see the north, which is fairly different from Volta. For one thing, the weather is very dry. Coming from Colorado, one would think I would be accustomed to dry weather, and maybe I have just become a wimp in all of Volta's humidity, but I was having to slather myself in Shea Butter and lip balm to keep myself from cracking. The dry weather felt like a nice change, though. There are also a lot less trees in the North, and being Harmatan, everything was dry and turning brown. Also, being Harmatan, it was very cold at night, and during the day, though the sun was hot, there was still a nice cool breeze. I loved it. After what has felt like a year an a half of straight summer, it was like suddenly having two weeks of Colorado autumn.
Jessica is my nearest volunteer neighbor and has become a good friend, so it was a lot of fun to travel with her. We both separately left Volta a few days before Christmas and met up in Kumasi. There we spent a couple of days relaxing at the Peace Corps sub office, and watching movies. We enjoyed a nice Christmas dinner of spaghetti and toasted garlic bread (well, I thought it was spectacular, even if it sounds mundane to you). After that we travelled up to Kintampo and stayed two nights with another volunteer, who took us to see the waterfalls near his site. Really beautiful... one was like stair steps that you could climb up to the top.
After Kintampo, Jess and I took a tro over some nasty undeveloped roads up to Wa, which is the largest city in the Upper East region. In Wa we met up with Karen, another volunteer from our group, and we travelled to her site, Weichau, near the Burkina Faso border. In Weichau, we met up with a few other volunteers from the north, and together we all rode bikes 18 km (a personal record for me, not being a very strong bike rider) to a small guesthouse near the river separating Ghana from Burkina Faso.
That night, (New Year's Eve) we all slept on a treetop platform under the stars... well, I say we slept, but mostly we just shivered. It was the coldest I have been since my last winter in Colorado. But it was beautiful and a lot of fun. On New Year's day we got up early in the morning, had breakfast, and then walked to the river, where we all got in a couple of rickety canoes. Luckily, each canoe was equipped with a calabash bowl to bail out the water when the boats leaked too much. With our tireless guides rowing us down the river, we went in search of hippos. Now, if you are thinking "aww, hippos, fat and lazy creatures, kinda cuddly in their ugly sort of way", you have to realize that it has been said that hippos are the most dangerous animals in Ghana. Sure, they LOOK placid, but they have big jowls and big teeth and they can swim like crazy. So when we sighted a mother hippo with her baby, peering at us suspiciously over the water, we were just a little bit nervous. Mine was the closest canoe to the hippos, and though hippos are vegans, I was considering whether I should have invested in making a tee-shirt that said "Hippo Bait" on the front. Luckily for us, peering was all they did... until they decided that we weren't interesting enough and dove below the water. The same happened with a group of four males that we later found.
After the boat ride, we biked back the 18 km to Karen's site where we waited around until we could catch a ride (the back of a supply truck packed high with people and their market goods) back to Wa. From Wa, Jess and I went to Mole National Park, which is a huge wildlife reserve. There we stayed in a bunk room and ate really good but really expensive food. The hotel was on a ridge overlooking a valley containing two waterholes. The view was gorgeous, especially at sunset, but it was made even more spectacular by the fact that elephants and other animals regularly frequented these waterholes. We took a guided tour of the park, and got the opportunity to walk right up to many animals, including baboons and warthogs. We also saw bush buck and crocodiles, and then after an hour or so of wandering around, we came upon the waterholes. Four elephants were drinking from the water, and by keeping the water between us and them, we were able to get surprisingly close. It was pretty incredible to be that close to them in their natural environment. And happily no one got stampeded.
The baboons were very naughty. They kept coming up to the hotel pool and restaurant and digging into the trash. One baboon saw a woman's bag on the table and charged up to it, scaring off the woman and her husband. After searching through the bag for something interesting, the baboon pulled out the woman's bra and ran off with it. The guards had to chase him around a few times before they could retrieve the woman's bra.
After spending time with the animals - both the naughty and the awe-inspiring, we headed to Tamale, stopping at a 300 year old mosque on the way.
Now I am back on my way to Bethel to get back into the swing of things for my last ten months of service.
I hope everyone at home had great holidays and will have a wonderful year!

Yes, I do, in fact, realize that I am a slacker.

I have to admit, that when it comes down to it, I have no good excuse for how long it has been since I have posted an update on this blog. And this is indeed a rather painful admission to make, as I have been wracking my brain in multiple unsuccessful attempts to come up with a reason that would excuse me from conceding that I am, after all, a slacker.

I apologize and I promise I will try to do better in the future.

So, as it has been a little over four months since I last updated the general public as to what has been going on in my life, I will write this update in the form of a timeline in hopes to make it as informative as possible... and hopefully it will also enable me to avoid my usual tendency of writing an entire saga where a pamphlet would suffice.



April

Nothing of note happened... at least that I can remember.

May

Same as above. (Sorry, it's been a while, and a lot has happened since then.)

June

I travelled home to Colorado for two weeks to attend my sister's wedding. It was both strange and exciting to be home, and now it almost feels as if it never happened. Pretty much the week after I returned I began to mark up the experience to a very convincing Larium dream. I very much enjoyed seeing the few friends and family that I was able to meet with during the very lightning-fast and activity filled trip. For those of you that I didn't get to see, I assure you that it was not for lack of desire.

July

My first week back from the States was restful, but the rest of the month has to be the most intense and stressful few weeks that I have encountered since being in Ghana. There is no way that I can fully recount all that happened during this time; both for lack of time and space, as well as not really having the words to describe it. But I will give a VERY brief list of the various occurrences that I faced.

-Received and had to tactfully turn down a serious marriage proposal from a friend and then navigate the aftermath.

-Found myself in the middle of a rather unfortunate ongoing misunderstanding between the family members that I live with.

-Attended a three day funeral event for my Ghana mama's mother who died. All I will say about this event (and trust me, there is a LOT more that I could say,) is that attending funerals in Ghana has now made it very near the top of my "things I dislike" list.

-Helped a friend with a very stressful medical emergency.

-In an attempt to alleviate a potentially dangerous situation involving alcohol and night driving, had to find a way to diplomatically voice my safety concerns in a way that would both assure that I would not become a Ghanaian vehicular accident statistic and would allow an important man to save face.

and

-Involved my village leaders in mediating a situation concerning an unwanted secret admirer.

August

Luckily, this month turned out to be much less eventful. I did have a chance to meet up with most of my friends from my Environment volunteer group as we held a training in Kumasi. That was a fun time to share and de-stress, and I learned some helpful things about erosion control and environmental youth clubs that I hope to implement at site.

September

Another eventful month, but almost all for good reasons. The first major event was another major funeral, which was not nearly as stressful as the one I attended in July, but has pushed me to the decision that no one else remotely connected to me is allowed to die from this point on, because I will not be attending any more funerals (as long as my considerable stubbornness can prevent it.)

I got the opportunity to do a little sightseeing with a friend and his parents. This was a lot of fun and extremely helpful in planning for the last and most exciting item that I will mention.

I went to welcome the new group of volunteers who have arrived in the country... and I celebrated my own one year anniversary of having arrived in Ghana. I can't tell you how strange that is.

I hosted one of the new volunteers at my site for a few days and in the process made a new friend with a very cool girl. She is doing really well for her first week in Ghana, and it was kind of fun to have a reminder of how I was when I first arrived in the country, and how everything was so new and different to me.

And last, but NOT AT ALL LEAST... I am now in Accra eagerly awaiting the arrival of two visitors from America. Tonight my friend Phoebe, whom I have known since baby-hood, will arrive in Accra for a business trip, and I will have the opportunity to spend time with her whenever she is free from her responsibilities. This in itself would be sufficient to keep me happy for a year, but there is more... My mother will be arriving in Ghana in two days!!! And she will be staying with me for three weeks!!

I think you will understand that there is really no way for me to fully put into words how excited I am about this. I can't wait for her to see the place and people that have shaped my life over the past year. It is important for me to tell friends and family stories and describe customs about Ghana, but it is like showing someone a small puzzle piece without being able to relate the larger picture that gives it meaning. So, I am hoping that both Phoebe and my mother will enjoy seeing the world in which I have been living and understanding the context in which everything has happened.

And then you can ask them to tell you stories of an experience that is larger than words can describe.

Jokes no one else will understand.

Everyone in Ghana loves a good joke. In fact, I would say that a good sense of humor is one of the most valuable survival skills a person can have in this country. It seems the most awkward moments I have found myself in have been times when a Ghanaian asks me a question or makes a comment and is expecting a nice light-hearted banter, and I respond with well-intentioned earnestness. My first clue that I have missed the culturally appropriate opportunity for a brilliant witticism is the glazed over look that comes into the Ghanaian's eyes... and then it is always too late to backtrack and switch to comedian mode.
So, I have been trying to build up my repertoire of hilarity to keep myself ever-ready for the moments when it becomes necessary to make my neighbors laugh. And if it is more my Yevu (foreign white person) strangeness that they are laughing at rather than my scintillating wit, it is all just as well. As humor is such an important part of my attempts to integrate into the culture of Ghana, I thought I would try to share a few stories with you... Though I realize I am faced with the difficulty that a lot of the humor, being based on things that I now take for granted in Ghanaian culture, may be lost on my mostly American audience. But having grown up in a family that delights in nonsensical humor, I have long been used to telling jokes that no one else will understand.
The most common situation in which I must always keep a good joke on hand is the inevitable "what did you bring me?" question that I always face when returning from anywhere. This is a standard question that is sort of the Ghanaian equivalent of saying "welcome home, did you miss me?" To say "I brought you nothing" would be the equivalent of saying, "you mean nothing to me, why would I miss you?"
But in truth, I can not afford to bring EVERYONE a loaf of bread (the usual offering) each time I go somewhere, so a good joking reply is required. My Ghanaian sister told me a standard response to this question is: "Oh, the bridge in the town where they sell bread fell into the river, so there was no bread to be bought... sorry-o. Next time I will bring you bread."
I found a response that worked well for me. When I first gave it, I got a good round of approving laughs, and when I attempted a much simpler version in my halting Ewe, the laughter was uproarious. My story went somehow like this: "I bought you biscuits, but a roving band of mercenary goats was waiting for me at the junction, and when I came, they attacked me and ate all of the biscuits! So, sorry-o. Next time I will bring you biscuits."
Goats have become the favorite punchline of my jokes. When my 29th birthday was approaching, one of my Ghanaian brothers told me he would buy me a goat to slaughter and cook in honor of me. I replied that as I was turning 29, I expected him to bring me 29 goats - one for each year. So this became an ongoing exchange between us in the days leading up to my birthday. I would ask him how the goat collection was coming along, and he would give me some story as to why it was or wasn't going well. Well, as you can imagine, my birthday came, and, alas, no goats. When I asked my brother why he didn't bring my goats, he told me a story about how he had 25 goats collected, but some disaster happened, and he was not able to get the remaining four goats, so instead of bringing me an insufficient number of goats, he decided to wait until next year. Of course, at this point I informed him that next year required 30 goats; 29 goats would never do for my 30th birthday.
About a month later, his birthday was approaching, and he told me that I should start looking for his 45 goats for his 45th birthday. I let him know that in no way could I provide 45 goats. He would have to be satisfied with 45 fish... which I quickly bargained down to 45 spaghettis (don't ask). His birthday came, and he was nowhere to be seen, so the next day when he came over, I told him "Oh! I had 45 spaghettis prepared for you, but when you did not come, the spaghettis ran away!" He acted shocked, "No! They ran away?! How could they run away, and why did you not chase them??" I replied, "They slithered off like snakes to Nigeria, and I am not chasing them all the way to Nigeria!"
Hmm... Yeah... I guess you had to be there. But I did warn you that you nobody else would understand.
My Ghanaian Mama Margaret is a hoot, and we have several inside jokes between us. I have some jokes that only my fellow volunteers would understand. And some I think only my family would understand, if only they saw or understood the circumstances that make me start laughing out loud like an idiot for no apparent reason. And some jokes are only for myself. They keep me sane when I begin to wonder what on earth I am doing here. Whatever the case, humor will most likely be the survival skill that keeps me going the longest in Ghana, even when I am the only one who laughs.

Nothing is new under the sun... well, maybe not for you.

I have been wracking my brain trying to think up something interesting to say on my blog, because I knew I was overdue for an update. The problem is that nothing much has been happening lately, and so it is hard for me to feel inspired to write about my most recent activities... which mostly include sitting around and not doing anything. Harmattan is still holding onto the Volta Region with dry and dusty fingers, and so I can't really start any of my work until the rains begin. And let me tell you, I am MORE than ready for the rains, as well as for some sort of purpose.
So, I have been agonizing over what to write in this blog, because I have been thinking "there is nothing new to report..." But then it occured to me that after six months in Ghana, things may not be new to me, but EVERYTHING is new to those of you who have never been here.
So, here is a list of things that I hardly even notice any longer, but that were new, different, and very surprising to me when I first came to Ghana. And for any of you who may end up visiting me here in Ghana, maybe it will act as a list of things to prepare yourself to experience.

- Goats tied to the top of a small bus (or trotro) - this is probably first on my list, because on my way to Ho this morning I in fact sat roughly underneath a small brown goat who bleated in confusion and fright any time the trotro stopped to cram more passengers into the seats. Good thing goats are sturdy, or there would be a lot of drivers who would have to pay the goat owners for their roadkill.

-Creative store names. Especially the very religious names. Examples: "Jesus Saves Haircuts", "God's Way Electronics", or "Saved by Grace Chop Bar". The three main religions in Ghana are Christianity, Islam, and the traditional belief system. It is extremely rare to find anyone who does not practice at least one of these. Therefore, it is generally profitable for store owners to name their shops with something that references their faith.

-The "handshake snap". This is not something you see, but rather something you do. Whenever you greet someone and shake his or her hand, as you pull your hands away, you snap each other's fingers. Took a while to get it down, but now whenever I shake the hand of a "Yevu" (white person), I probably leave him wondering why I tugged at his finger as he pulled his hand away. A handshake just doesn't feel complete anymore without it.

-The sounds of sweeping in the morning, and fufu pounding at night. Around 6 a.m. you will always here people outside their homes sweeping the dirt in their courtyards. Everyone has very clean dirt around their houses. And around 6 p.m. you will hear a chorus of fufu pounders making dinner. I may have mentioned before how fufu is the favorite meal here, so it is not surprising that it is the most commonly made dinner. To make it, you boil cassava and plantains, put it in a big wooden mortar, and with incredibly precise timing (that I have been too chicken to attempt on either end), you reach your hand in to turn the mixture of cassava and plantains, while someone stands over you with a large heavy stick (the size of a heafty tree branch) and with quite a lot of bodily force, pounds the fufu. It is definitely enough to break the fingers of the uninitiated. The sound it makes is like a muffled axe chopping wood.

-Traditional house made of mud walls, a thatch roof, and a dirt floor. When I first rode a bus out of Accra and into the surrounding country side, I was somehow overwhelmed by the site of villages filled with the kinds of houses that I would have described to sponsors over the phone when I worked at the child sponsorship organization. These are definitely the abodes of those in the most need. And I don't mean to diminish the significance of those needs, but it is interesting how perspectives change. More often than not, a small village made up of these traditional homes now appears to me more like a nice quiet neighborhood than a shocking example of poverty. It is amazing how quickly these houses can be constructed, and for the cost and convenience, they provide shelter sturdy enough to withstand many torrential rains. (one of my neighbors offered to teach me how to make one of these homes so I could build one for myself in America.) But good and bad aspects of these homes aside, I think it is more knowing the pulse of life that goes on inside and around them that makes me hardly notice them any more.

-Wow... after five examples, I am having trouble thinking of more... Like I said, I hardly notice these things anymore... Hmmm.... Let me think... Oh, I know -

-When I leave for a nearby town, having five people ask me where I am going, and if I will bring them bread when I return. My response: "Yoooo..." It would be extremely rude of me to say no. I might as well be telling the person that he or she is not worth knowing. Each person would be thrilled if I really did bring bread, and sometimes they ask when I return, but they are not REALLY expecting me to bring it (well, not usually, anyway.) It is more a way of saying "think of me while you are gone". When I return, if I didn't bring bread, and they ask, I can usually get away with saying that the market was inexplicably out of bread because of a funeral, or the goat on top of the trotro ate it, and they are just as happy - I proved they were worth making up a good story over.

-Adding "Oh" to the end of a sentence, or using "somehow" as a verbal filler. Example: "I saw a dress that was somehow nice, but it was too expensive-Oh." Yes. This is indeed how I speak now, as well as many other quirks you would quickly notice if you heard me speaking with my Ghanaian friends.

-Streetside hawkers. They sell everything from food and water to batteries and bug spray. When I first came, I would not even make eye contact with them while I was sitting in the bus waiting for it to fill with passengers, or at the places where buses will momentarily stop along the route, and the hawkers descend like vultures. My policy when I first came: IGNORE, IGNORE, IGNORE!! Now I get into the bus and immediately start perusing the offerings: Hmmm... those meat pies look tasty... or do I want fried yams? And I am getting adept at quickly giving my money to the running pure water seller through the bus window.

-Watching women, men or children (but especially women) carrying huge and heavy loads on their heads - no hands. Sometimes it is quite impressive to see the ingenious way hundreds of items are stacked in a bowl for balance on a person's head. I am also used to the jokes people make at me when they see me carrying items anywhere BUT on my head. I tried it a few times - but I don't have the talent.

I would write more, but am somehow out of time. Hope you enjoyed-oh.

top ten favorites... and some not so favorites...

Ok, maybe this will be an occasional feature as I come up with more favorites... I realize I have been here for less than a fourth of my stay, so these are likely to change every so often.

But, I thought I would make a list of my top ten favorite things here... times when I feel normal and like I could do this forever. And then to be fair and balanced (but not TOO balanced...) I will list a few things that are.... ummm.... NOT my favorite things.

Favorites:

10. Sucking Fan Ice (a soft vanilla ice cream) out of its plastic pouch while sitting in the shade to escape the hot tropical sun. (to suck it out of the pouch, you bite the corner off of the pouch, and squeeze the ice cream into your mouth.... other things you suck instead of eat or drink in Ghana: oranges, water, mangoes, cooked rice out of plastic baggies)

9. listening to the choir at my church sing. Amazing harmonies and incredible drumming.

8. watching my Ghanaian mama dance at the front of the church while the choir sings... i love to watch all of the women dance around in a circle, but my mama takes the cake with her enthusiasm and the way she twirls her white scarf around.

7. watching Nigerian movies with my sister and brother, or watching French-dubbed Chuck Norris movies with my neighbors... I won't comment on which type of movie has the better quality in terms of script, dialogue, action, and production values... I'll just say that Chuck Norris never looked so amazing... Though it could be the fact that I can't understand a word he is saying makes him seem a much better actor. What makes it in my list of top ten is not so much the movies themselves, but how fun it is to watch my neighbors or my sister and brother get so in to what is happening in the movies. Their reactions are a hoot.

6. Eating a warm bowl of Fufu, palmnut soup, and grasscutter made for me by my mama and sister; especially appreciated on a day when I would rather go without eating than cook for myself. The Proverbs talk about a sluggard being too lazy to lift his hand from the bowl to his mouth... I definitely end up being too lazy to cook sometimes, but not to lift my hand to my mouth when my mama and sister feed me fufu! (No, I am not starving - I have found clever and lazy ways around cooking.)

5. laying in my bed in the cool early mornings of harmatan. It actually gets cold enough that I have to cover up with two sheets and a sweater... almost cool enough for me to try to imagine all of the snow my family and friends have been hit with in Colorado.

4. Sitting with my favorite boys as they play Ludo, which is a Ghanaian board game. Watching them is too much fun. The point is to move four of your pieces around the board and get them safe at home. Just like in Sorry, other players can boot you off the board and back to the starting place. When one of the boys does this to another, the mock arguments and teasing it sets off always makes me laugh, even though it is in Ewe and I don't understand a word they are saying. Sitting and watching these boys always makes me happy. They kind of remind me of when I would visit my cousins growing up.

3. Bargaining in Ewe at the market. For some reason, this is the thing I can do best in the language, and I have greetings and bargaining down so well that I can often go through a whole exchange with a person entirely in Ewe, and occasionally leave them thinking I am fluent... that NEVER happens in any other situation.

2. Watching one of the many animals (goats, cats, dogs, chickens, sheep, lizards, etc.) that roam around the village. What can I say? I have always been a sucker for watching animals.

1. My absolute favorite... Riding for a couple of hours in the back of a small bus (Tro tro) near an open window while listening to my music. I can just retreat into myself and not have to be anything but... myself. Of course, if the ride is TOO long, it loses its charm, but for a couple of hours, it is the best thing in the world... even when the small bus is CRAMMED with people.


Ok, so those are my favorites. At least for now.
I won't make a top ten for my LEAST favorite things, but here are a few:

-the flies..... THE FLIES!!!!!!!!

-having someone read my emails over my shoulder in an internet cafe...

-people yelling or hissing at me as I walk down the street - not a threatening or even rude thing to do in Ghana, they are just trying to get my attention and want to make friends, but as an American, it is very hard to get used to.

-trying to decide whether I have to greet the person I am passing on the street or whether I can get away with pretending not to notice them.

-whatever it is in my room that keeps making noises at night just when I am about to get to sleep.


... I guess if you asked me at a different time each day, I would have another to put on this list, but I am not going to bother trying to come up with any more. They are brief and easily forgotten, and pale in comparison to everything on my top ten FAVORITES.

hope you enjoyed!

I'm still here! - part 2

Recently I dreamed that I had a conversation with the spiders in my room. I was trying to convince them that the spot over my bed was not the best place for them to build their webs, and they were explaining to me why the location truly was ideal... To prevent myself from contracting malaria from mosquitoes, I am required to take Larium, which has the interesting side effect of very bizarre dreams. The beauty of a Larium dream is that when I awoke, I was surprised (and not a little relieved) that there was not a group of chatty arachnids hanging over my head.
Larium dreams are not always so strange, but they are almost always very very vivid. Where this has caused me the most trouble has not been in dreams of spiders, but in dreams of home. I will dream of doing very mundane things, like walking through Walmart, or laying on the carpet in the living room of my parents home, reading a magazine. Sometimes I am aware that I should be in Ghana, and so I am trying to convince myself that it is ok for me to be home, and others it is like I was never here. The unfortunate side effect of these dreams is that I wake up feeling very disoriented and out of place when I realize that I am not truly riding in the car and laughing with my sisters as I thought I was. I think that is when homesickness is the hardest to deal with... ok, so it is a toss up between that and when I sabotage my emotions by pining over pictures of my friends and family.
Luckily, I have found a sure-fire cure for the loneliness this brings on (though my mood often makes me reluctant to pursue this remedy, no matter how effective). The solution to my sadness and homesickness is to come out of my room and walk across to my neighbors and sit with them in the courtyard as they play games or just carry on conversations in Ewe. Sometimes this is the last thing on earth that I want to do - when I am feeling depressed I tend towards reclusiveness - but I am unfailingly rewarded if I manage to overcome my anti-social tendencies and spend time with the people in my community.
I have been perfecting the art of sitting with someone for long periods of time in silence. Sometimes this is because Ghanaians are very content to sit with each other and not feel the need for conversation, and sometimes it is because I can't understand or take part in most of the conversations.
When I greet an Ewe speaker, and they find that I can "hear the Ewe language small small", they are tickled pink and immediately bombard me with all sorts of questions, expecting that I will know what they are talking about. Even those who better know me and the extent of my language abilities will often time carry on conversations around me, expecting that I am at least able to figure out the context of what they are talking about. I am afraid I am just not there yet.
I remember one of my favorite Gary Larson cartoons showed a man talking to his dog in two frames. One frame said "what you say" and it showed the man saying (roughly) "Ginger, No! Bad Dog, Ginger! How many times have I told you not to get into the trash! Bad Ginger! Bad Dog!" The next frame said "what your dog hears", and it shows the man saying "Ginger, Blah! Blah Blah Ginger! Blah blah blah blah Ginger! Blah blah!"
This very much mirrors my experience with Ewe. A person will hear that I can greet in Ewe, and so they start to speak, and I hear: "Blah blah blah church, blah blah blah behind blah blah, blah blah mother blah blah market." Then the person will look at me expectantly. My choices are threefold: I can say in Ewe, "I hear Ewe small small", which will sometimes make the person laugh and end the conversation, as well as possibly end any future attempt to converse with me in Ewe. I can say "I didn't understand", which more often than not leads to the person retrying in different but no more understandable words. Or I can guess that this is a situation in which the almost universal response "Yo...." will suffice. That last option is very hit or miss. Sometimes it results in the Ghanaian nodding and laughing in approval, and sometimes it simply results in a strange look. Ah well, can't win 'em all, all the time, right?
The holidays are now over, and I hear that in my home state of Colorado there have been three major snowstorms, a couple of them effectively shutting down half of the city. It is just my luck that for the past several years there have been very few significant snow storms, and the moment I leave to stay for two years in a tropical climate, and my hometown is hit with no less than THREE major snowstorms. I didn't think I would miss the snow that much, but for me it has been like perpetual summer since May. And when I see pictures of two of my sisters having fun and snowboarding in my parents back yard, it makes Christmas feel just a tad far away.
My Christmas and New Years celebrations, though different than those at home, were actually very nice. There were LOTS of church services... New Years Eve there was a gathering of people from twenty different branches of the church in Bethel... apparently my community is the head of the branches, so with the influx of worshippers, the population of my town seemed to effectively double in size. They came for an all night church service, and BOY was it an event. Picture the lawn beside the church covered in canopies and stacked with rows of chairs filled with decked-out Ghanaians. When the music and the worship starts, so does the dancing, and all of the chairs empty with people prancing around in circles and waving white hankies. It's quite a treat to watch. Dancing is as natural for the Ghanaian as swimming is for an otter, and it is not necessarily the sign of a charismatic church. Every church that I have attended (ok, so the total is three, but they were all different denominations) had dancing as a part of worship. My mama Margaret LOVES to dance her worship. She is so enthusiastic that you can't help but be happy when you see her.
For Christmas, I was invited to the home of the Bishop and his wife (since our Bethel church is the headquarters for all of the Bethel branches, the leader of our church and community has the title of "Bishop" and "Founder and Leader". I really like him and his wife a lot - wonderful people.) After visiting for a while... which included a conversation in which I had to explain and defend why I am not yet married... I was told it was time for dinner. I was led into a room and sat at a table and served fufu and light soup with beef (author's note: Yum Yum! my previous post went on about the joys of American food, but well prepared Ghanaian food is quite delicious.)
As I am telling you that I was invited to have dinner with the Bishop and his family, I am sure you are forming the same mental picture in your head that I had formed in mine, even though I should have known better. I am sure you are imagining sitting around a table with a large Ghanaian family, visiting and eating fufu from a large community bowl in which everyone takes part, eating with their hands (only with the right hand, of course, because it is taboo to do anything of significance with your left hand, especially eat)... Ok, well maybe that was not your mental picture, but it was mine. And so when I sat down at the table and they put the food in front of me and left the room, I waited expectantly to be joined by everyone else... and I waited.... and waited... and a lady came in and asked if I had ever eaten fufu before, and I said "yes, I like it," and she smiled and nodded and left.... and I looked around and waited...
And then it dawned on me; "oh, yeah! this is Ghana and I am an honored guest! No one is going to join me..." I felt a little sheepish as I started to eat my fufu (with a spoon they had thoughtfully provided for the honored American guest), because I had been well aware before that it is customary in Ghana to have the guest eat separately from the family at a special table, and to be left alone to enjoy the meal. But I guess because it was Christmas, and I had such a mental picture of fellowshipping around the table with the family, as is customary in the States, I had forgotten that was what I should expect. So, I ate my fufu, and I enjoyed it, and then I went outside and found the family sitting together, eating and enjoying their meal, and talking and laughing with each other. I sat nearby where they joined me afterwards to visit. And a very fine visit it was, full of the fellowship that I had been craving.
I hope all of you had a Christmas as merry!

I'm still here! - part 1

I realize it has been an extraordinarily long time since I have updated this blog. I apologize. If it helps, I do have a valid excuse - actually three valid excuses: 1.) things got crazy busy towards the end of training and the start of my time at site, 2.) since leaving Techiman and coming to Volta, this is the first time I have had decent access to internet fast enough to do anything other than read emails (which I do love to read, and respond to when I get a chance - keep sending them) 3.) my site is fairly remote, and I only am occasionally in a city that has internet access at all.
But, these excuses having been given, let me at least reassert my hope that I will be able in the future to keep up with these updates more often than I have in the past two months. In the meantime, my mom was good enough to write update emails and send them to many of you. Because I want to make sure everyone is on the same page in knowing what is going on with me (and hopefully to add a few new juicy details), I will use this post to do a quick update using excerpts from my mom's email. I apologize for the repeat of information for those of you who have already seen this material, but hopefully even you will be satisfied with the personal comments I will add to my mom's very good account of what has taken place.
Mom's email will be in indentation and my additions will be in normal type to cut down on confusion.
Ok, here goes:
Yes, our Dara the Explorer, Peace Corps Trainee, will, as of this week, become Dara, Peace Corps Volunteer. After having passed her language test on Monday, where she had to show some proficiency in the Ewe (pronounced Eh-vey) language, and also a few more tests this week on technical training having to do with the job she will be doing at her site, she will participate in a swearing in ceremony where she will be officially a Peace Corps Volunteer. YAAAAY!!!
It is true - I have been sworn in as a Volunteer. What a relief - I think all of the trainees were quite ready to be finished with the training phase. Language test was daunting, but I was happy that it went a lot more smoothly than I expected. I went to a designated location and sat down with two of the Ewe speaking trainers, and we basically carried on a conversation in Ewe. We started with greetings and introductions, and I told about my family in the States (I promise I said nice things, mom), I role-played a market transaction and answered a few other questions on topics I can't remember too well now.
The swearing in ceremony was long and consisted of a lot of speeches and a few performances by trainees from the various language groups. Also, several of my fellow trainees performed traditional drumming and dancing performances that they had been preparing for a while. They did really well. I can't say that the swear in ceremony was any more interesting than any other graduation ceremony, but the key point was that we are now officially Volunteers.
She is at this moment (as of November 29th) still in Techiman in a hotel with the other volunteers, finishing up the last of their training. She has left her homestay which was outside of Techiman.
She did tell me that she had a wonderful Thanksgiving. She praised the ingenuity of the PCV's, though, as she described the menu: Turkey, stuffing, gravy, green bean casserole, and several other thing she listed that I can't remember. Of course, after some of the items, she would add, "of sorts". I don't know where her Cheetoes played into the menu, but after I had sent her a box of assorted items she requested,she told me she was saving the cheetoes for Thanksgiving Day.
I can't tell you how amazing that thanksgiving meal was. The things that were made may sound normal to you, but some of them were made using ingredients or cooking techniques that I at that point was not even aware was possible in Ghana... I have since learned how to find ways of making many of the before unheard of American foods, though some may seem like cheap substitutes to all of you, it is absolute HEAVEN to my home-starved palate. Recent ingenious culinary accomplishments: devilled eggs, mashed potatoes using yams (so I guess that is really mashed yams), an imitation of mom's baked beans, and the crowning of all achievements; last night my friend and I made an AMAZING pizza. We actually found mozerella cheese at a store here in Ho. Granted, the cheese itself was half of a day's wage, but sometimes you just have to splurge for a taste of home.
She is very excited about her new living arrangements in Bethel, and her new name there in Bethel will not be Afia Dola, but Dzifa Dara (pronounced Jee FAH Dara) The meaning of Dzifa in Ewe is 'My heart is at rest'. If you look at the map of Ghana, the Volta Region is east of the large Lake Volta. There is a town named Ho which is about a 30 minute ride from her little community. She will ride her bike from Bethel to Tsibu to catch the Tro(the bus service--really they are over crowded vans) which will take her to Ho. Ho is a bit larger town with more conveniences, and maybe even better internet availability, but, as it is a bit further and harder to get to, she may have less opportunity to be at the computer.
Not to mention that the last several times I have come to Ho in hopes of writing updates, the two fast internet cafes were down - but time and perseverance will overcome all obstacles... at least cyber-related ones.
My community truly fits me in more ways than I can describe. Some of you may have read about how my home situation is really unexpectedly nice (yes, I get to watch t.v. at home - an almost unheard of luxury for a volunteer), but that is not what makes Bethel such a perfect fit. It is a very small and remote village containing about 600 people, and it is very quiet. It is a Christian faith-based community, and the people are very wonderful and loving. I can not imagine a place where I would feel more safe or welcomed. Because it is so small a community, I have had good opportunity to at least meet the majority of the people who live there, and though I have been there only a month, I would say that almost all of them know who I am now (not hard, being the only Yevu around).
I live with Patience, a young woman who is the headmistress of the local school, and her mother Margaret, who is a teacher at the school. I know I am prone to over using superlatives in my descriptions, and I apologize for that weakness in my writing, but I truly have not met any women in Ghana who would be more perfect as housemates for me. They are amazing women - very widely traveled, and wonderfully gracious.
Moving in to a new place and trying to establish a new home for yourself is a stressful event in anyone's life. Doing it in a foreign culture adds to that stress greatly. I would venture to say that trying to find your place in an already established home brings with it even new stresses and uncertainties, and I can't say that this past month since I have been at site has not been an adjustment, at times very difficult. But I am blessed that the people in my community, and especially the ladies I live with, have done everything possible to make me feel at home, and it has greatly eased the anxieties and loneliness that I have at times felt.
And I can not express all of the ways that I have been encouraged by the prayers I feel from home, and the messages that I have been receiving. Keep it up! It keeps me going.