Grad School Life: Writing Papers

When in grad school, it really helps to like writing papers. I say (write) this as I sit at my desk at close to 10 PM on a Friday night with seven different pieces of paper or articles and my laptop in front of me. Six of the papers are related to the paper I'm writing: two readings, my notes from the relevant lecture, my outline for this paper, my outline of general course theories, and, crucially, the assignment. The seventh is my to-do list; "Draft org. paper" is currently the top item.

Why is paper-writing such a useful enjoyed skill? Well, it's Friday night. It's close to 10 PM. I'm writing a paper. I've missed going out for happy hour / dinner / evening adventures with friends to write this paper. I've had four friends invite me to the aforementioned evening gathering. I still chose to write the paper ("chose" because it's due Monday and I have a friend flying in to visit for the entire weekend). On the plus side, I've had a good Friday night.

Though my initial enthusiasm for this particular assignment was quite low, it has grown as I've actually worked through the process. First, the readings were a rich source of content related to the given prompt. Second, I got to apply organizational frameworks - what could be more fun? (Okay, maybe a Friday night with friends would edge that out slightly.) Third, my attempt at writing has gone well thus far and I'm liking the output. Given that most of us will spend at least one Friday night / entire weekend writing papers during our time in grad school, it's much simpler to enjoy the process.

Grad School Life: New Skills

We attend grad school, among other reasons, to gain new skills. In one year or six-plus, we will have a better understanding of how to conduct research, a deeper awareness of the current status and history of our field, a sense of the breadth and depth of future careers and of the networks that sustain those careers. We also gain some skills that might politely be referred to as 'non-academic'. Today, I've decided to share with you a new non-academic skill that I've gained in my first six weeks living on campus (more to come, I'm guessing):

Multitask biking -- Most students bike on campus so bike safety is huge. I've managed to avoid being hit by any cyclists thus far, which I consider a huge win. As much transit time (e.g., getting to or between classes) takes place on a bike, I have begun to work my way towards valuable bike skills. Specifically, I am now able to eat easy-to-hold foods (e.g., peaches, sweet potatoes) while biking. This allows continued easy access to the brakes and some control with both hands. I still struggle with biking  entirely one-handed, a skill tested the other night as I biked home with a full 2 1/2-inch binder under my arm. Fortunately, both the binder and I made it in one piece.
Skill importance: 8 out of 10
Skill mastery: 6

1 1/2 Years Later - A Reflection

Friday, September 21, 2012

It has been one year, five months, and five days since I left Dodowa. It has taken me that long to move all my journal entries from paper into type. Those entries fill 42 typed pages, 1.1 spaced. They fill most of three journals handwritten, one each orange and green and blue.

I knew my time in Ghana would be life-changing, but I never could have predicted just how life-changing it would be. Eighteen months ago, I was settling into the routines and rhythms of sixty-six children and the other volunteers who cared for them. Those routines and rhythms remain a part of me today. For months after I left Ghana, I wanted to say, “Yen ko” (Twi for “Let’s go”) whenever going anywhere with others. Over a year after leaving, I wrote about George in my graduate school essay. My last office and current apartment have both prominently featured pictures of the children, including my favorite, one which Claire took of Beauty and I waiting at the bus stop. I think of them every day in some form or another, whether running clean tap water to wash dishes or seeing children play who are both healthy and well-loved.

I am glad that I did not leave unchanged. Among all that I am thankful for from this trip, that stands out the strongest. It’s not just about eating bananas or enjoying the feel of dust and sweat on a ninety-five-degree day. It’s about loving so hard it hurts and putting somebody else’s life and growth above your own for some period of time.

As I began this journal with one quote, I will end with two:

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” - Mother Teresa

“Travel is like love, mostly because it’s a heightened state of awareness, in which we are mindful, receptive, undimmed by familiarity and ready to be transformed. That is why the best trips, like the best love affairs, never really end.” - Pico Iyer

Day 36 - About Those Chickens...

Saturday, April 16 - Day 36

“The flight will leave earlier than scheduled, so please be at your gate early.” This is what the ticketing woman told me as she handed me my baggage claim receipts. Apparently Egypt time is the opposite of Ghana time.

I have no idea whether the flight actually departed early (and, if so, by how much) because I was asleep at the time. I fell asleep within ten minutes of boarding and woke up to us cruising above the clouds. I think that’s the chicken’s fault.

Niki accompanied me to the orphanage this morning for a final 6 AM visit. She had offered to be my last-day photographer and got some great shots. Shortly after our arrival, she said, “You should pick up a chicken.” Now I knew that this was a stupid idea - I should definitely not pick up a chicken - but a confluence of factors urged me against my better judgement: Niki rarely suggests actions so perhaps I should listen; she was thinking she should instate it as a new pre-departure requirement for volunteers (who can resist tradition?); and the kids handle these birds all the time. Only two days ago, big Prince had carefully placed a chicken on Jackie’s head. It wasn’t like I hadn’t wondered whether the chickens were actually as easy to catch as they looked to be when the children chased them. So I picked up a chicken. Indeed, it was fairly easy to catch.

Half an hour later, my fingertips started to itch, turn red, and exhibit slight signs of swelling. By the time we arrive home, another hour having passed, I had a full systemic allergic reaction with a rash on my elbows, my stomach, the backs of my knees, and multiple other body parts. Everything itched. Fortunately, I remembered that Niki had an antihistamine in her travel medical kit from when she was packing medicine for the Mole trip. I took one of her pills when we got home and felt better within an hour or so. [Note from the future: Niki, thank you! It was entirely worth the whole experience.] The pill can cause drowsiness; I slept through the second half of the cab ride to the airport and the first three-ish hours of my flight. It turns out it was a stupid idea to pick up the chicken. That said, I’ve now caught and held a chicken in Ghana. You win some; you lose some.

Other than the allergic reaction, my final morning was lovely. Niki and I arrived shortly after 6 to a very quiet orphanage. About ten of the middle ones were awake beginning to wash and do chores (which include cleaning (e.g., sweeping), cooking, and such). Most of them were still sleeping off the big party. Around 6:30, Ma roused the little ones for their morning bath and the daily bustle commenced. Happily, all of the little ones were in good moods today; we had a pleasantly tantrum-free morning. I got to get Beauty and Godwyn dressed a final time and wander around with Beauty contentedly being held. When the time came, I said my goodbyes, working my way around from the littlest ones outside Ma’s room to the oldest boys repairing their football boots on the table by the front door. We returned home for a final (for me) breakfast of white bread with ground nut butter and jam. As a going-away present, Jackie had gone to the market to refill the empty ground nut butter container while we were at the orphanage. I love the volunteer family.

My taxi to the airport ran on Ghana time. I planned to leave the house between 8:45 and 9 AM so asked Beatriz to have the taxi driver, a friend of hers, come at 8:45 when she called him for me last night. She called, talked, hung up, and announced that she’d told him 8 AM. What? Emily reassured me that he’d probably arrive at 8:30 on Ghana time. At 8:42 this morning, he was still noticeably absent and I was actually ready to go. Beatriz called again and he said he’d be at the house in two minutes. We loaded my bags into the car at 8:55.

The drive was just under two hours and got me to the airport the perfect three hours ahead. My flight has also been smooth thus far. Most rows, mine included, have empty middle seats so I get to enjoy the feeling of an extra-spacious aisle seat. The only blip has been my companion at the window, who reminds me of the rastas at Kokrobite. (I wouldn’t be surprised if he is a rasta from Kokrobite.) After writing down and handing me his email address and phone number in China entirely unsolicited, he soon suggested I move to the middle seat next to him. No, thank you.

According to the flight monitor, we left Accra at 1:50 PM (scheduled time: 1:40) and will arrive in Cairo in under half an hour. There you have it.

Grad School Life: End of Week 3 Update

It turns out that Master's degree programs in Education and extroverted, social people can do very well together. The 35 students in my program include many people who have taught for 3 to 6 years and are now returning to school to study educational reform with hopes of changing our world for the better someday. They and we are full of energy, enthusiasm, and a passion for "good", whatever that may be. To explain my love for my graduate experience thus far, let me provide an example of some of my cohort's social events. Most of our gatherings have had attendance in the 8 to 20 people range, pretty good given our busy schedules and high levels of assigned academic reading.

Week 1
We spent most of week 1 shopping classes and adjusting to academic life, but we did take time out to gather on Thursday to watch a bit of Stanford's away football game and participate in Grad Trivia Night, on Friday for Happy Hour after our first full week of class, and on Saturday for Mexican dinner at someone's apartment.

Week 2
Calmer than week 1 because shopping was mostly over and schedules settled, it was also busier because workloads too had settled and required reading kicked in full force. (When classes only last 10 weeks, things move fast from the start.) We took a midweek study break to grill and watch the presidential debate at an apartment then watched some baseball over drinks on Friday and went to the football game against Arizona on Saturday (my first football game with overtime -- spoiler: Stanford won).

Week 3
We began the week with a Sunday night potluck then many of us saw each other at a Tuesday film screening around educational reform. We gathered to watch the vice presidential debate on Thursday then had evening drinks on Friday. Today (Saturday), many of us will get together for a quiche-and-pumpkin-pancakes fall brunch as we head into a weekend of studying.

Next week promises another presidential debate party and a cohort brown-bag lunch with one of our favorite professors. (Yes, we even have collective favorite professors.) It will be fantastic.

The academic side of life is also going quite well. I love my classes and enjoy immensely learning so many new things each week about education. I'm having fun with my first "flipped classroom" and appreciate the opportunity to view all the challenges and bumps along the road of that experience in person and in real time. (In a flipped classroom, students view lectures and do readings at home then focus class time on hands-on practice or in-depth discussion.)

On the professional side, I'll share a highlight of week 3 from yesterday. I met for lunch yesterday with a University VP actively involved in reframing the way his school and others help students think about major and career planning. He had spoken at my week-long summer class so I knew he was fantastic already. We ended up having a 1 1/2 hour lunch before I needed to head back to campus for Organizational Analysis, my flipped class. As we were standing to go, I mentioned that I was heading off for that class, that it was flipped, and watching our lectures at home was an interesting experience. His reply: "I'd love to meet with you again" to talk about online learning. His office and school, it turns out, are thinking of putting some career resources online. As I'm in an online class now, I have an inside view on this "grand experiment" (as one professor calls it) in massive open online learning. Thanks to this, I get a follow-up meeting with a higher education thought leader (per my consideration). Pretty awesome.

Day 35 - Dance Party

Friday, April 15 - Day 35

We had a big party today. It was excellent.

Niki had decided two days ago that it’d be fun to have a party with the kids like the volunteers had in the week before she and I arrived here. Some kids will be away during break so she suggested an end-of-term party today while everyone (including me!) was still there. Yesterday, she and Sarah booked a DJ. Today, we partied. The kids loved it.

The DJs brought a set of giant speakers, a computer, and lots of wires. They were set up by the time Jackie and I arrived in the early afternoon, bearing a tub of fruit salad which I had balanced on my head all the way from the field (using my hands to support, of course). We had each carried one side at first, but realized at the field that Ghanaian-style head-balancing might be easier; it was.

Our arrival coincided with that of Mama Jane, returning from her trip to America. Though the music was already going when we arrived, the dancing really picked up after Mama Jane addressed the kids about her trip. Once they got to move around after sitting on benches for an hour, they danced. And those kids can move. It was so much fun to watch and join in.

I spent much of the party holding, and occasionally dancing with, small children. I got Irene and Beauty both to sleep in the course of the afternoon, Beauty while secured to my back Ghanaian-style. I got lots of pictures of the kids dancing and just being, including Justice with his million-watt, light-up-the-room smile. It was a fantastic final afternoon and evening (the music played until 7) with the kids. It was freeform yet kept them all involved and engaged and they were all so happy. I love seeing them get to just be kids.

Day 34 - Change of All Sorts

Thursday, April 14 - Day 34

I enjoyed a full second-to-last long morning in Ghana (the last being reserved for packing), going to the seamstress then getting my hair braided at the salon while reading The Happiness Project. One fact from the book struck me as particularly relevant: many happiness experts “advocate periods of deprivation to sharpen pleasures.”

This fact resonates now because in two days I’ll leave Ghana, a country of plenty in some areas but of deprivation in others. I’ll no longer wonder whether the power will return in hours or days, providing energy for a fan in the heat of the day and a light in the darkness of night. I’ll shower under running water, not with the half-bucketful of cool water carried to the house by an orphan. (They carry water 7 or 8 minutes from a nearby well to keep us supplied; we’re currently transitioning to using two big water tanks recently installed in the front yard.) Most happily, I will get to cook again. I will eat fruits and vegetables in unpeeled form, drink tap water, and enjoy those sharpened pleasures that arise from deprivation. As I am happy now, I will be happy.

On a tangentially-related side note, I eat bananas now. Our main (i.e., peelable) fruit options from the market are mangoes, pineapples, and bananas. I love the big mangoes but find the small ones that are now in season a bit stringy and hard to eat. Pineapples are always delicious. Bananas are cheap (10 pesewas each, about 7 cents US) and easy to eat on the go. I assert with confidence that I have overcome my banana loathing. Someday, I will love bananas. [Note from the future: True statement.]

It’s not, it turns out, especially hard to change yourself in small ways. The biggest challenge is generally wanting to change. Once you summon that desire, almost any small adjustment is possible. Just as pebbles lying together make mountains, these alone-insignificant changes together make individuals who are stronger, happier, and better prepared to contribute positively to our society. If one banana yesterday becomes one hundred next year, I will be better for the change. Maybe I won’t even need to fuel my next marathon entirely on Gatorade and candy. [Note from the future: Also true.]

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I have exactly 90 pesewas to last me until my departure (plus the 35 cedis for the taxi to the airport). I plan to spend 30 on a final bowl fruit and 60 on a FanChoco. Delicious. The line of Fan products is a central player in our daily lives here in Dodowa. They all come in small, sealed plastic bags, like a fudgesicle in external appearance but entirely filled with slushy, semi-frozen liquid - just bite open the corner and enjoy. For 50 pesewas, you can get the half-frozen-orange-juice-y Fandango or the super-sweet FanIce, vanilla ice cream that tastes like very rich soft serve. I like to use the latter as my single rare source of dairy in Dodowa.

The FanChoco, which goes for 60 pesewas, is my personal favorite. It usually comes fully frozen when the power has been on recently, but is best thawed for 5 or so minutes, at which point it tastes just like a Wendy’s frosty. We probably average 2 Fan products a week per volunteer from the shop by the orphanage, plus one for every long, hot travel day. I got one from the trotro window at a gas station on our way back from Ho.

George called me over tonight to show me his Word of Faith exam scores. (Math was unfortunately ‘not back yet’.) He passed all the ones he showed me, most with very high marks. A 67 on one was balanced by the big, red-ink 92% on another (60 is passing). I was so proud of him. So proud. These kids are fantastic.

Day 33 - Walking & Waterfalls

Wednesday, April 13 - Day 33

I relearned an important life truth today: life at three-year-old speed is a wonderful (if trying) thing. I got to walk all three of the littlest onse to school today because the other volunteers were occupied with subsets of the 63 remaning children. The little ones were magically fed and ready to go fifteen minutes early so we headed out the door at 7:20. My goal was for us to walk to the bus at Chicababy pace.

Godwyn occupied one arm, Beauty’s backpack that hand, and Beauty my back. Chica got the free hand to hold. The walk at her pace was a beautiful thing. Sometimes she shuffled quickly while giggling, generally she ambled, occasionally she stopped and announced “See!” (which Beauty also uses frequently) to draw attention to some house or goat or random wonder we were passing. Free from the usual rush to make the bus on time, we had a fantastic walk. It’s essential to create space for those 20 or 30 or 40 minutes that allow a vivacious, curious three-year-old to eat distractedly, amble slowly, and otherwise use every moment of life to observe and absorb this big, bold world.

We took some of the 10-and-older kids to the waterfall this morning. It was as beautiful as I had remembered. There’s something to be said for sitting under a waterfall in Africa, leaning against the rocks as gallons of water crash down over and around you every second. As before, I’d recommend it.

Day 32 - On Dora and Oprah

Tuesday, April 12 - Day 32

This afternoon, I read Dora the Explorer’s A Surprise Party to Beauty and Ma. The small, cardboard-thick book was ostensibly for the little one; I knew that Ma, holding the book and turning the pages, was paying more attention to and getting more out of the reading experience. I made sure to follow the words with my finger on some pages and to point to pictures of key characters and items on other pages. Ma understands minimal English; she always communicates with the kids in Twi. I know minimal Twi; I communicate with them almost exclusively in English. I love that I’m able to assist her with the little ones in spite of our language barrier.

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It’s 8:30 PM and people are already starting to sleep - volunteer people, that is. There was a television at the orphanage from way back when so Zach got them a satellite antenna (if such a thing exists; otherwise something else) and the boys set it up today so they could all watch TV tonight. Close to fifty watched, a few sat scattered about chatting and such, most of the littlest ones slept, and George and Bismark stood at a radio immediately next to the television listening excitedly to a Manchester United game.

After I put already-sleeping Akofa and Kojo to bed on their respective floor mats, I had my highlight of the evening: singing Chicababy to sleep. She was watching television tiredly and came without pause when I beckoned to her (she’s three years old and still has school for two more days). Rather than risk a screaming child (unlikely but possible), I decided to get her to sleep before laying her down. She was out by the end of The Circle Game. I love camp songs for soothing children to sleep. It was the first time I had gotten to get Chica to sleep. That sassy little three-year-old, with her wiggling hips and baby strut, is destined to be the next Oprah. She’ll live big, d.v.

In exciting news, Marilyn, now back in the US from her visit, found a sponsor for Justice to attend Word of Faith! He’ll start at the end of the calendar year. Emily told him this afternoon and he was brimming with subdued ecstasy all evening at the news. Just this morning, he had come to hang out at the WoF bus stop - the only non-WoF kid there - and Sophie, Niki, and I proceeded to talk the entire way back to the house about how much we would love to see him on that bus rather than watching it pull away. He has the potential to flourish in that environment.

Day 31 - School

Monday, April 11 - Day 31

I got to see the kids up at Word of Faith this morning in their classes, which I absolutely loved. Marilyn, a white woman who teaches the first-grade class there, gave me a tour when Jackie and I took a tro up late morning. Jackie got sponsorship info this trip but will return for a tour when not in workout clothes.

I had two highlights of the tour. The first was watching the little pre-K kids who had just laid down for a nap. Godwyn, the last to go down, stared at me tiredly from his spot on the mat next to Beauty. Even in a room of 20-something children ages 3 and younger, those two are always together. My other highlight was seeing Kwame Adu’s face ligth up in his front-row-center seat when I came to the door of the grade 3 classroom. He gave me a discreet but enthusiastic wave. He can be such a charming kid sometimes.

As per Marilyn at church yesterday, class sizes vary dramatically. She has eleven first-graders and the high school classes looked to have around five kids each but some of the middle grades top 30 students. A future expansion goal is to split those larger grades into two smaller classes.

School today looked like I might expect school to look from my upbringing. Kindergartners colored inside the lines, older kids sat at orderly rows of individual desks learning science or English, and each classroom was decorated with age-appropriate, curriculum-related facts (e.g., definition of an angle, question about average of three football-game attendances, a basic number line; many to most were, happily, math-related). At both Methodist and Catholic school, kids ran amok in the unadorned, uncolorful classroom as teachers met with parents. Here, a teacher’s aide watched attentively as Marilyn’s class continued to work silently in her absence. Kids learned. I can certainly see why the kids find the transition to WoF from Methodist so difficult.

Jackie and I also visited the seamstress this morning. She had been sick since our last visit; I left more fabrics and we will return on Thursday.

Early this evening, George, Bismark, and I walked about an hour to a place George knew of up near WoF where Bismark can get passport pictures taken for his league registration for football. They were out of ink and told us to return tomorrow. The trotro back took under ten minutes, but I enjoyed the leisurely pace of the conversation-quiet walk up there along the busy main road into Dodowa. It’s paved and boasts a constant stream of cars, most only passing through en route to Madina and Accra beyond.

Day 30 - On British Pharmaceutical Recommendations

Sunday, April 10 - Day 30

My cough is slowly beginning to extricate itself from my lungs, where it had settled in recent weeks after a month of a more nomadic existence. The cotrimoxazole I take has been moving it along. What do I know about cotrimoxazole? First, one of the kids is taking it for a persistent cough. Second, a full course (2 tablets morning & night) costs 90 pesewas, about 60 cents US. Third, it’s not amoxycilin-based. And fourth, as Sophie found on a brief phone background check for me, it’s strong enough that the governing British pharmaceuticals body recommends its use in very few situations; one, fortunately, is acute recurrences of chronic bronchitis, my likely ailment. 

The antibiotics situation is mind-boggling here. For sixty cents with no prescription, you can get a full course of a drug the Brits would only use for pneumonia and chronic bronchitis. It’s shocking that any illnesses at all still respond to the drugs. There could easily be a major resistance crisis sometime in the next decade or two.

Speaking of medicine, Justice’s toe is looking great today. The new layer of skin is almost fully formed and the iodine barely stung it. The restorative powers of the human body are a marvel to  observe in action.

Speaking of today, I went to church again today! Jackie and I joined the children for another hot Sunday morning at Word of Faith. Rather than testimonials, there was a sermon this week from Pastor John. He’s a good speaker and followed a couple of Bible passages in encouraging us to repent for any sin as everything matters to God. Pastor John emphatically declared mid-sermon, “Why do you want to look good before me?! I am not God!” Well said.

Life generally continues to be good. It’s gotten easier to manage medicines for 67 kids, too many of them with fevers, between two of us (though the rest of the volunteers stepping back in on Tuesday will be very nice). My clothes are clean and I took a bucket shower recently. I get real food in a week and Jackie and I split two pineapples this past week. The Methodist kids started a five-week school break on Friday and the WoF kids are gearing up for their two-week break to begin this Friday. Goats and chickens, many trailed by 5 or 6 adorable chicks, continue to wander along the dirt roads and among the banana trees. This morning, it rained.

Day 29 - How to Pack for a Trip of This Nature

Saturday, April 9 - Day 29

Tonight, it’s “lights-off Dodowa” so no fan and only battery-powered lighting. Maybe the electricity will return at night, maybe in two days. As it’s very hot these days, the former would be preferable.

Tonight is also the time for some packing-list superlatives:

Best clothing item brought to Ghana: A sarong - All-purpose as a skirt, towel, and dress, it’s also very easy to clean, unlike any white or light-colored fabric which absorbs dust like dust-absorption is an Olympic sport. (Dear Fabrics, It’s not.)

Most unexpectedly useful item brought to Ghana: My AmeriCorps NCCC combination screwdriver and tape measure - Who knew that Sophie and I would both need to resecure the tiny Phillips-head screws in our sunglasses or that Domenica would need to take measurements for her grad-school-graduation gown? I sure didn’t.

Best intangible thing I brought to Ghana: Extensive first-aid knowledge - Today’s main applications were changing the dressing on Justice’s toe, determining a course of action for Kojo’s swollen forearm (it was stepped on yesterday and he’s retained limited but decent motion so ice and NSAIDs), and cleaning and covering the fortunately-minor puncture wound on the bottom of George’s foot.

Justice’s toe looked great today, thanks for asking. It’ll be some time yet before a new toenail grows in, but there’s now a thin skin layer over nearly all of it. The once-almost-unbearable iodine now barely stings. Putting a bandaid’s middle under the gauze keeps it from sticking to the still-open areas. Justice continues to be ready and willing to take medicine or change his dressing. He’s generally a fantastic patient.

At my request, George wrote down the lyrics to his favorite church song (“Purify My Heart”) for me two nights ago and we practiced it both then and last night. He asked me to sing it with him tonight and has now officially declared that I know it. Success.

Another success is that Joshua is once again talking to me. Of the three boys who had been sulking for days about being told they had to walk to school because they missed the bus (note: none actually walked; they all skipped instead), he took my apology the best. I told each one-on-one yesterday that I was sorry we hadn’t given them better warning of the new walking policy as we should have. [Note from the future: This is one of many challenges arising from the volunteers-as-parents model that predominated; it was successful in ways.] Joshua forgave me; Kwame Adu, not unexpectedly, continued to ignore me; Emit stayed as quiet as he has been since Sophie went away to Mole. As volunteers, it’s a strange line we straddle between parents and friends. Like seven (or nine, at the time the walking rule was formed) camp counselors sharing a giant cabin, we must remember to communicate changes to our charges, not only amongst ourselves. That said, it’s a balancing act.

The current rules guiding our interactions with the kids were formed about a week ago in direct response to issues of inconsistency, finance, character-building, and lack of sleep: 

1. Never give the kids money directly. If they need something, either buy it yourself or go with them to buy it.
2. If the Word of Faith kids miss their bus, they need to walk to school. If they have a very good reason for missing it, you can pay for them to take a trotro. The little ones, who are under our field of responsibility for getting to the bus on time, are excepted.
3. Leave the orphanage by 9 PM (10 PM on Fridays and Saturdays) to give the kids adequate sleep time. Staying until 10 PM on weeknights is permitted if studying with one of the kids aged 15 or older.

As time progresses and volunteers go and come, these rules will evolve. This set is working well for now.

Day 28 - Divides

Friday, April 8 - Day 28

It is strange to recognize that you both love a place as home (albeit a temporary one) and will miss fairly few things about it when you leave. This is my feeling about Ghana at the moment. I will miss the smiling kids and the other volunteers, the distinctly African rain, and the walks along dust-covered paths roads to a beautiful waterfall or a haven for monkeys. Though every day here is amazing, there are many things I will not miss. I will not miss being covered head-to-toe in sweat and dust within five minutes of stepping outside or the rivers of muddy sweat that run down our obruni skin after carrying firewood. [Note from the future: Surprisingly, I actually did miss the former during my first air-conditioned office job. Impressive?] I will not miss the constant sickness, how this morning alone at least four kids were running fevers. I will have a greater appreciation for a seemingly unending supply of clean, drinkable water. I will miss practicing my algebra and long division, but I will enjoy the intellectual stimulation associated with higher literacy levels. Immensely thankful for my supply of dried fruit, I will barely miss the food. I may miss the amazing pineapples and mangoes we got on rare occasion, but not the bread for breakfast, noodles for lunch, and rice for dinner with some fried plantains stepping in now and then. I have a greater appreciation for protein now. I will not miss that every day is part of a continuous heat wave or that the streets carry the acrid odor of the trash fires. I look forward to safer driving and vehicles not filled past capacity. It’s a different world out there, a world in which clean, healthy people drive clean, uncrowded cars down clean, paved streets while sipping on clean, drinkable tap water and watching the world rush past. The movies and other media aren’t the only culprits in making American and obruni life seem glamorous to Ghanaians; huge cultural and access divides exist.

Day 27 - Reflections Thus Far

Thursday, April 7 - Day 27

[Note from the future: This entry includes description of an injury and wound care.]

The nurses at the hospital chose to cut off Justice’s semi-attached toenail entirely rather than suture it. He’ll grow a new one, they said. They did not use even a local anesthetic; he did not cry and only hissed quietly in pain when they were dressing the wound. These kids are tougher than nails.

The nurses gave Justice a prescription for three medicines, all of which he was able to get there: paracetemol for pain, amoxycilin for infection, and ascorbic acid. He also has a wound-cleaning liquid for changing the dressing. They said we should return this morning (e.g., at 10 AM break in school) for would re-dressing; Bismark said (to me only) that we’d do it at home. I had asked about returning after school, but apparently the woman who does dressings is only there in the morning. Thus, once again, thank you Red Cross training.

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Thoughts (with 10 days left):

• Ghana is beautiful, resplendent with banana trees and mango trees, goats and roosters
• It is also litter-strewn and often unpleasantly aromatic (most trash is “removed” by bonfire)
• The children are friendly, enthusiastic, and eager
• Many of them lie and steal on a regular basis, some after a childhood of selling things off their heads or living in the bush
• The education culture has the potential to be so much better
• Football (soccer) is huge
• Fruits and vegetables are not (dairy is almost non-existent)
• Rice, bread, and other cheaply filling foods (e.g., traditional fufu and banku) are central staples
• Electricity is sporadic in small towns, cut without warning for hours or days
• Access to sufficient clean water is a privilege secured by money, not a right (we buy the kids water every day, but I think many of them live in a state of constant borderline dehydration)
• Reading skills are often limited
• Courage and strength (internal & external) are not

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Okay, so what’s the toughest part about Ghanaian orphanage work? It’s not the pre-dawn alarm clock or the 95-degree days, nor the half-mile walk home at 9 at night or dealing with the newest wave of illnesses. By far, it’s the children.

To much of suburban America, a rough childhood is one in which food is limited or a child is beaten. [Note from the future: Those do both constitute rough childhoods in my opinion. I offer them for comparison with the Ghanaian experience of childhood of the children for whom we cared.] Here, that rough childhood is taken to the next level. Most of the kids were handed over by family members no longer able to care for them. The five “true orphans” had it much worse: most of them were found in a bush somewhere; one was connected to WORCSA after spending his childhood years selling goods off his head and stealing to survive. His behavior is especially difficult. He acts as a negative ringleader, having in the last two weeks alone bullied other boys into stealing fish, beaten another boy rather than share bread with him, formed a posse of a couple of WoF kids angry at us for making them walk to school after missing the bus without reason, had that posse give us the silent treatment, and insulted a volunteer quite strongly in Twi. To his credit, this kid does know the system, including how to lie and cheat with a friendly smile. It’s so frustrating at times because he’s intelligent and “just a kid” at age 15, but also manipulative and way past most sheltered suburban youth in age-by-life-experience.

The little ones are much simpler. Many of the older ones lie (about anything), steal (from each other, regularly), and try to extort whatever is possible from volunteers. The young ones behave like small children worldwide. When angry or upset, they hurl a tiny fist or two at the offender and throw a tantrum. Twenty minutes later, the offense is forgotten. They never sulk for two days like the older ones do and they don’t lie about being sick or ask for a new pencil so they can sell it in class. Last I checked, kids in America and Europe weren’t selling hoarded pencils and erasers to classmates for spending money. That said, they also weren’t being beaten for not bringing a broom to class last I checked and that happened this week too. This is Ghana.

Day 26 - Cholera and Parachutes

Wednesday, April 26 - Day 26

[Note from the future: This entry includes description of an injury and wound care.]

A sign on the admissions window in Dodowa Hospital reads:

HEALTH ALERT

Cholera

Outbreak in the

Greater Accra

Region

Mama Jane warned us of this outbreak two weeks ago before she left for America, imploring us to keep the kids safe from it.

How do I know what the sign in Dodowa Hospital reads? Because I, like the sign, am in Dodowa Hospital right now. I was prepared for a standard afternoon at the orphanage when Justice came to me about his toe. Last I had noticed, he and another boy had been biking around the open middle area of the compound. It’s a big enough space for dancing or playing, but very small for biking. Now, I was sitting with a feverish Mercy (lower-grade than yesterday, in good news) on the usual front table when Justice approached.  The toenail on his littlest left toe had been almost entirely separated from his toe, along with a fair chunk of skin surrounding the toenail. I sat him down with instructions not to move and headed for the medical cabinet. I told Zach that a hospital trip was in order as I rummaged for appropriate gauze. He helped me find tape, some generic version of basic Scotch tape. Incredibly grateful for extensive first-aid training, I used the gauze to wrap the affected toe to keep it clean and keep the toenail attached then had Justice help tape around that and the neighboring toe to secure the gauze. Thank you, American Red Cross, for giving me the skills to bandage temporarily an orphan’s severely injured toe in non-urban Africa with only gauze and scotch tape.

The rest of today-thus-far has been less eventful than the toe incident. Sarah, Sophie, Niki, and Emily left shortly after 5:30 this morning for their African safari in Mole (MOHL-a), leaving Jackie, Zach, and I in charge of everything for the next five days. This made the morning pre-school routine more intense and hectic. I served food and Jackie distributed vitamins. She gave lots of pink-eye and some other medicine; I gave some medicine and bandaged a couple of small infection-high-risk open wounds. Happily, I still got to help the littlest ones get dressed with Ma when I first arrived. I also got to carry Beauty and Godwyn to the bus stop. Four of the older boys caught the bus only by running as it was about to depart. Another four missed the bus. Famous had been helping Jackie, but the other three had no legitimate excuse so Jackie and I told them that they needed to walk. Famous, who has been withdrawn and upset since Claire (his sponsor) left, immediately turned to head home. The other three made as if to walk to school but skipped and were at the orphanage when we arrived in the afternoon. I find it infuriating that there are few to no repercussions for missing school, yet children who do attend can be caned or spanked for minor infractions. The culture surrounding education here has so much potential to be stronger and more positive.

-----

Got electronics? Want to discover the fun features on your iPod or phone that you never knew existed? Ask an orphan. Our kids, after a single year of exposure to Western technology through volunteers, are as tech-savvy with small electronics as any I’ve ever met. They may not know how to open a new file in Word on a computer (they learn the steps through screenshots in ICT - Information Communication Technology - in school), but Bismark found a planes, parachutes, and tank game on my iPod in about five seconds flat. I had no idea it existed. Reassuringly, three or four other volunteers have already expressed shock at the things the kids have discovered their technology can do. Youthful exploration has its benefits.

Day 25 - On Vitamins and Leadership

Tuesday, April 5 - Day 25

As yesterday’s brief entry suggests, the day was quite a full one.

Sunday finished fairly quietly - a nice lunch at WoF at the conclusion of the sermon, an afternoon with the kids, and a pre-Monday-exam study session on maths with some of the Methodist form 1 and form 2 kids consisting primarily of single-digit addition and subtraction.

Monday began with the all-too-frequent last-minute rush to get the Word of Faith kids to their bus. We got all the little ones there in time, which was good. Three of the older boys missed the bus with no valid reason; they got a trotro to school this time but will have to walk for any future recurrences. Being late and missing the bus, we volunteers agree, should have consequences. 

[Note from the future: One of the challenges of volunteering at an orphanage is that these wonderful kids end up with a revolving-door rotation of parental stand-ins and rules can fall to the wayside in the transitions. I do believe, though, that our impact has been positive overall as regards this amazing group of children. Many volunteers have since returned and given very positive reports regarding the continued well-being of the children. The children remember past volunteers and ask about us of other volunteers upon their return to the orphanage.]

After breakfast, Emily and I headed into Accra (Dodowa to Medina, Medina to 37 on Accra-Circle). Sarah and Sophie, along with Zach, had headed in earlier in the morning to renew their visas at immigration. We met the girls at MaxMart for a nice lunch out on the town, enjoying the luxury of wheat-baguette sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, cucumber, cheese, and pesto. Vegetables and wheat bread? Crazy upscale.

The afternoon at the orphanage included lots of sleep-deprived time reading to small children. Sophie and I left a bit early to head to the seamstress for a fitting of our new clothing. Each item needed slight alterations, but her work is absolutely beautiful.

At night, I helped Abigail with a final review for today’s math exam at her request. She’s very intelligent and good at maths; she made a few simple mistakes but seems to grasp the concepts (algebra, triangle geometry) and seemed well-prepared for her exam.

-----

To begin with, conjunctivitis is sweeping through the orphanage. Pink eye is highly contagious, spreading through a single touch. Emily, who is handling the seven cases identified thus far, had George explain to all the kids in Twi last night that they need to wash hands a lot, not touch their eyes, and take other basic precautions to avoid getting sick. The kids understand English to varyingly high degrees, but Twi is the first language of most. A few have other first languages, the home dialects of their regions of the country.

Speaking of sick, the kids love medicine. This is bad when it plays a part in creating hypochondriacs (we certainly have a couple of intense attention-seekers), but good when kids are actually in need of medicine. One example is daily vitamins, which we give to all the kids. We have Flintstones chewables and the gummy-bear ones. We tell the kids they’re toffee (or candy, to we Americans).

Watching Beauty and Godwyn eat their vitamins as I carried them to school (Godwyn in my arms, Beauty Ghana-style on my back) was a highlight of this morning. It was gummy-vitamin day and they each exhibited their signature styles. Beauty likes to savor her vitamin, alternately nibbling off tiny bites and simply holding it for a minimum of 20 minutes. She consistently has about half of her vitamin left when we get to the bus stop. This morning, she sat on her tree-root perch sticking that half to her top lip then pulling it so her lip would come out slightly. When the gummy-lip seal broke, she repeated the action (multiple times). Godwyn finished his vitamin in about five minutes. His style is also far from standard. Godwyn likes to stick the vitamin into his mouth, suck on it a few times, and spit it back into his hand. He repeats this again and again until the vitamin disappears. These kids love their vitamins.

-----

The actual highlight of my day, above even the littlest ones eating their vitamins, was George going to school. He was sitting outside his room not in uniform and not making any effort to do anything with 30 minutes to go this morning (i.e., at 7 AM). I approached and we talked for a few minutes. He was planning to skip school because yesterday his class was stuck carrying heavy blocks all day for a building project rather than learning anything. I pointed out that carrying heavy things can be exhausting and no fun, but not going to school would send a message to the other kids that it’s okay to skip out on things just because you don’t like them. He’s the indisputable leader; others are always watching him and his actions will be copied, whether now or in weeks or months. Five minutes after we talked, Niki came up to me and said, “How did you get George to go to school?” I still only put the odds of him actually showing up at the bus at 70% until I saw him walk across the field with my own eyes. It was a good day for good leadership. I was very proud of him.

On Continuation and Closure

It has taken well over a year (one year, five months, five days to be precise) to translate all of my journal entries from Ghana into typed text, but I have finished. Beginning this afternoon, one day's entry will be posted every second day until all are up. After today, all entries will go up at 6 AM EST.

I found typing up these final entries emotionally charged as I relived each day through the words that will be posted and the memories with which those words are associated. As before, I have made almost no changes to the original wording and content of the journal as I wrote it on the dates provided with each entry. Finally, there is a closure of sorts. It all remains open in some ways.

"You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore." (Anonymous)

College Food

Let's talk about food. College food, to be specific. I'm not talking about what emerges from the cafeterias, but rather what college students feed themselves beyond the cafeteria walls. I'll use myself as an example.

As a graduate student, I don't have a meal plan on campus (nor did I my final year of undergrad studies) so end up creating various concoctions which attempt to blend nutritious, delicious, and fast. We students have important things to do before classes start, you know, such as sitting out on the balcony reading the latest news and swimming laps in the Olympic-size outdoor pool that happens to be a five-minute walk from my dorm.

There are many approaches to college food, but one rule I follow (especially with our small sink) is that fewer dishes tends to be a good thing. Though I enjoy both cooking and washing dishes, I also enjoy getting creative with limited resources. Why whip up a ten-course meal on ten different plates with cutting boards and knives when you could make that same meal on one plate with a single knife (or you could just use the side of your fork as a knife then eat with that fork -- look, only two things to wash!). This meal-creation philosophy has led to some interesting foods over the course of my first four days back in dorm life. Two of my favorites, one old and one new, were
     1) the classic PB&J sandwich bulked up and healthified as two open-faced peanut-butter-and-apple sandwiches (I used whole wheat bread with walnuts, peanut butter ground directly from peanuts, and round apple slices) -- this would probably also be delicious with banana instead of apple - I could imagine enjoying one of each open-faced as a post-workout meal, and
     2) a new savory oatmeal (which I think I'm one of the few people in the world to find delicious, but it's just SO GOOD (and good for you)) with equal parts oats and black beans then half as much salsa -- I cooked up 1/2 cup of oats (in the microwave, as per the dish philosophy) then added 1/2 cup of black beans, cooked another half minute to warm the beans, and added 1/4 cup of salsa. Mmm.

You can go back to your 'real' food now, but know that I'll be sitting here enjoying my berry-and-nut-butter-topped greek yogurt in happy health. I wonder what tomorrow's oatmeal might be....

Life on the Farm

I have yet to become a cowgirl (though all that country music in NCCC got me a good step closer, as did that time with the chickens in Ghana), but I have moved to a farm. Leland Stanford's farm, to be specific. Yes, I've made it to Stanford for a wonderful year full of graduate study. Expect that blog posts may be even more sporadic, if such a thing is possible.

Before we hit the ground running with orientation and classes, I have a full two weeks to enjoy the end of summer. Now that I've figured out that my internet can be set up without an ethernet cable (it did involve extra steps but I figured them out so can feel almost as smart as my sister (the smart twin)), here are three great things about California living thus far:

1. Housing "Wait," you say, "didn't you have a terrible number in the housing lottery?" Why yes, I did! After ending up as number three-thousand-two-hundred-and-something out of 3500 lottery entries, I had to wait to the third round of the lottery to be assigned. I ended up on campus in a midrise single-converted-into-a-double. I wasn't sure what to expect, but the setup works well for a number of reasons:
     My roommate had moved in at the beginning of the summer and chose to take the living room (with the table and sofa) over the bedroom (with the actual door that actually closes). This left me with my own contained room, a nice plus.
     Since we're in a midrise, we get what almost no graduate housing has: a balcony. I got two outdoor armchairs yesterday (at grad-student prices on end-of-summer sale) and both our rooms open onto the balcony with sliding glass doors so we still get communal space even without a living room.
     Rent is awesome, lower even than at my last place, which we AmeriCorps types appreciate. This is only true in this particular type of housing so it works out pretty well.
     My roommate is an incredibly nice person. I assume this is true of most people (including these Stanford types), but it's still great to get that confirmation from meeting her.

2. Weather  According to The Weather Channel's website, the hottest months in Palo Alto are June and September. Both have average highs of 80 degrees Farenheit with average lows of 55 and 53 respectively. The coolest months are December and January, which have average highs of 59 degrees and average lows of 39 and 38 respectively. This allows for lots of time studying on the aforementioned balcony and enjoying the fall, winter, and spring sunshine which abound. I've decided to block out all memories of snowstorms for the present moment and enjoy our balcony.

3. Everything Organic  Sunday involved the discovery of a farmer's market near campus which charges reasonable prices for extremely high-quality produce, 80+% of which was organic, with all proceeds going directly to the farmers. I've decided that Sunday is my new grocery-shopping day. Lest you be concerned that this might end in the cold of winter winter, the farmer's market is held every Sunday year-round (see great thing #2: weather).

Yes, it's been two days and I'm already happy here. I get to spend my time picking classes, running errands, and meeting wonderful people. Today I enjoyed a two-hour lunch with one of my cohortmates, who just returned to the US in June from three years teaching English to students of all ages in China. I'm going to love it here.

I hope you're loving wherever you are! Enjoy the start of classes, school types!

[Note to Snan in light of her recent blog post: Isn't it amazing how we're so different given our amazing twin powers and general sameness? "It's like we're the same person. But not."]

Peru: A Whirlwind Overview

As I've fallen behind on Ghana posts due to a certain trip abroad, I feel it's necessary to share some pictures from that trip with you in exchange for your wonderful patience.

Acknowledgement: Many, many thanks to my dad for loaning me his camera, a Nikon D3100.

Cusco's Plaza de Armas, its central square

Cusco's Plaza de Armas

Cusco's main pedestrian-only street

Imagine the Inca life working these terraces.

Dad, this one's for you.

The view from Chinchero, our last stop on our Sacred Valley tour

Ah, Monday

There will be more Ghana posts to come (hint: I was there for 35 days and kept my journal for the entire time), but I'm no longer ahead on posting due to recent travel (I'm back from Peru; it was beautiful and wonderful) so I leave you today instead with the following from Ovid:

"Against the bold, daring is unsafe."

Day 24 - Sunday (continued) on America

Monday, April 4 - Day 24

The second hour (actually close to 90 minutes; the longest a volunteer has sat through in recent memory was 2 1/2 hours) was the sermon. This week, the standard sermon was replaced by a series of testimonials by (non-WORCSA) members of the congregation, mostly older students at Word of Faith. (Many of the high school students, including two older WORCSA girls we never see except at church, board at the school.)

The testimonial portion was interesting. Most of the speakers referenced Bible passages and spoke of a renewed awareness of the need to love God and Jesus. One speaker told us he had realized, “Egypt was like America - the most beautiful country, the strongest, the most powerful, everything.” It was an enlightening perspective on my home nation, an entirely accurate representation of the Ghanaian perception of America as I’ve observed it thus far.

Day 23 - Sundays and School

Sunday, April 3 - Day 23

We went to church today! Exciting, I know. Emily, Sarah, Zach, and I, along with Marilyn and Claire before their afternoon departure, accompanied the kids to their usual Sunday Christian church held in the Word of Faith school chapel.

The experience began with all the orphanage girls crowding into a trotro designated especially for taking them to church. There were over 30 people in a trotro meant for 15, including seven adults and many small children. Fortunately, the little ones are stackable and fit well on laps. Unfortunately, it’s a pretty bad and vaguely unsafe way to get to church. [Note from the future: This would be a very unsafe way in many countries, but gets ‘vaguely’ due to the slow vehicle speeds, short distance traveled (perhaps 2 miles), and low number of other vehicles en route.] The boys rode (also squished) in a separate trotro. We all arrived safely shortly after nine and the fun began.

Sunday School was first. I went to the KG (kindergarten) room with Marilyn, Claire, and Emily because that’s where the ten or so youngest ones go. I sat next to Ma and enjoyed watching Beauty in one of the closest chairs at the nearer of the two long tables. Her face came just above the child-sized table and she spent about a quarter of the class leaning forward and resting her mouth on the table edge as if biting it. Across the room, Godwyn’s head bobbed up and down, moving in and out of visibility behind the low table. Most of Sunday School involved the four adult women who ran the KG room asking various kids if they had learned a song in their heart then leading all the kids in that song. A low moment was them having all the other kids stand and crowd around Kojo then shout (mostly the adults) “Help him Jesus!” because he didn’t have a song to offer from his heart.

After Sunday School, we all headed to the big hall that functions as a chapel on the opposite side of the school complex (a few separate long buildings around a small main square). We settled into plastic chairs near the back, having been warned against sitting too close to the front as we already stand out and would likely be the only ones without hands raised in the intensity of prayer. This was good advice.

The first hour was singing, with song lyrics projected on the front wall for the benefit of the 200-ish attendees. I was able to sing along here and there; most of the songs repeated themselves quite a bit. I learned for next week never to sit near the single big speaker of the PA system because three of the 20 or so people leading songs had microphones and one held hers very close while singing.

Day 22 - "Maybe They Will Come"

Saturday, April 2 – Day 22

“Maybe they will come.” That was Emit’s response to our question of whether the other kids would be arriving soon for their “3 PM” soccer game with some other local boys. Welcome to Ghana time.

Here in Ghana, things happen when they happen. If you arrive three hours late for a meeting, that’s understandable. Maybe your trotro broke down. Perhaps it took an hour to fill up and leave then got stuck in traffic. These things happen. Worst case, you’ll reschedule for a day or weeks later. No worries.

Today, the fickle nature of Ghana time manifested itself in the form of variable football match start times. The older boys had told us yesterday that they had a game at 8 AM on the field near our house against some local boys; a bunch of us expressed interest and they said they’d contact us at game time. Emily said she’d once gone to an “8 AM” game that started at noon and another time attended a “10 AM” game that began at 3 PM so we figured waiting all morning for the game was a distinct possibility.

The outcome? I woke up naturally at 6 AM, the other girls planning to come slept in, and we found out from Marilyn and Claire at breakfast that the game had kicked off at 7 AM and we had missed it. Adjazam (the older Samuel) had stopped by the house partway through the game but only spoken to Zach. Ultimately, it all ended well. The boys had another game at 3 PM that they informed us of mid-morning. We were there for that one. In true Ghana fashion, it kicked off at 4 PM as the heat of the sun began to fade.

We did fill the morning time easily, taking a big group trip to the waterfall within walking distance of town. All the female volunteers (i.e., everyone except Zach) and the older boys plus Yvonne walked the two-ish miles (40 or so minutes – we use timepieces sporadically when out and about) along quiet dirt roads. The waterfall itself was beautiful; the walk was stunningly gorgeous true Africa. We reached the top of a mild rise in the road and Africa opened before us. Lush green foliage covered every visible surface up to the not-so-distant mountains except for the winding dirt road we traversed and a solitary hut with a conical thatched roof. That is the landscape of Africa to me. There are occasional cities and numerous villages, but everywhere else is so much nature. I love it.

Swimming at the waterfall violated the traveler-in-Africa rule against spending time in any sort of body of fresh water (schistomyosis is bad), but we all went in anyway. There we were with a 40-foot waterfall sliding and crashing down onto our backs and shoulders in rural Ghana. Amazing experience.

Sophie and I walked back from the waterfall with Joshua shortly before lunch. After the meal, Sophie, Sarah, and I spent the afternoon picnicking and watching football. The picnic was a bread-and-jam affair under a tree by the field because Sophie was hungry after barely picking at the lunch of rice balls with Thai-like ground-nut-butter soup. We bought bread at a nearby shop then enjoyed our shady snack. As 3 rolled into 4, we prepared to forgo waiting for the football game and walk up to the orphanage. A whole passle of children met us at the far side of the field and we happily settled in for the match (after Emily and I went with Eto to the police station, where I met an officer named Fred who offered to be my ‘friend’ then was super-friendly and sent warm regards to Beatrix when I politely declined). I spent the entire match with Kojo settled contentedly on my lap, missing much of the game action to focus my attention on him and the other kids and my fellow volunteers on the sidelines. I did catch some of Bismark’s fancy footwork and George’s diving kicks.

The game ended as dusk settled.

Day 21 - On Greetings

Friday, April 1 – Day 21

Welcome to April! In honor of April Fool’s Day, Emily emailed her friends back home that she’s gotten malaria. These things are funny in our Ghanaian humor.

I was thrown up on again this morning by Beauty. She has now left every non-blood bodily substance on me, vomit twice. She’s easy to forgive, though, because this was after she reached for me to pick her up immediately upon my arrival at 6 AM, when she and all the other little ones were clustered around Ma. Ma smiled at me and commented on how much Beauty has taken to me. Aww.

Our morning break has been a productive one. After breakfast, I took the essential hour-long morning nap before Emily and I hit the (two) streets of downtown Dodowa to look for fabrics. She found one at the seamstress so is now getting shorts made. It’s 3 cedis for one yard of fabric and the shorts-making itself brings the grand total to $4 US for a pair of custom-made shorts. Absurd.

The rest of the morning before a ramen-and-cabbage-with-egg lunch was filled with the latest load of washing and meeting our newest volunteer. Washing-wise, I’m definitely improving. George gave me some tips yesterday when he was doing his washing at the orphanage, especially helping my scrubbing form with regards to using my stationary wrist actively in the process. Volunteer-wise, our newest is Jackie from Chicago. She’s here for a month and has survived the initial information bombardment quite well. I like that she’s nice, especially as it’ll be just the two of us and Zach for five days while everyone else is at Mole. (Mole – MOH-lay – is a town sixteen hours north of here by tro and bus, nearly at Burkina Faso, where an hour-long walking safari (with an armed guard, of course) costs only 3 cedis.)

Let’s switch tracks for a brief lesson on Ghanaian culture. Whenever you walk past someone on the street, you must greet them as you come into close proximity (within a couple of feet). Failure to greet is considered very rude. Greetings are very structured. Recall that this is a land of rote memorization; this fact permeates all aspects of culture.

The greeting should reflect the time of day. Your four options are “good morning”, “good afternoon”, “good evening” (used from about 4 PM), and, rarely, “good night”. This is optionally followed by the proferment by the greeted party, after replying in kind to the offered greeting, of “How are you?” The correct response to this is “fine” or, alternately, “I’m fine, thank you.” One is never good or okay or well, always fine. (That said, the occasional unorthodox “good” serves as the exception which proves the rule.) The truly bold, or anyone feeling a smidge reckless, may even extend the response to “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” The acceptable response, of course, is “fine”. Here, then, is a standard pre-noon greeting (extended version):

• Good morning.
• Good morning. How are you?
• I’m fine, thank you. How are you?
• I’m fine, thank you.

Along the way to the orphanage (use greeting here)