The End?

I was going to write an poignant last post about the Peace Corps experience to sum everything up, but as I run around like a crazy person on my last day, I find myself at a loss for words. Maybe I will write bout my next adventures, maybe not, but this is my last Ghana post.  Ghana has changed me into a better person- stronger, more assertive, more confident, more understanding, less naive. It has given me friends from all around the world and memories that will last forever. I will miss the food and freedom and weather and, most of all, the amazing people who live here.

So thank you Peace Corps for not sending me to South America like I thought I wanted. Thank you for the opportunity to be somewhere perfect for me. Thank you Serwaa Kesse Duayaw Nkwanta for hosting me and making me a part of the community. Thank you Mums Love for giving me a Ghana family and endless hours of play time. Thank you PCVs for being my support and co-conspirators and everything in between. Thank you friends and family at home for being there as I go through everything and anything. And thank you Ghana for everything- I promise I will be back one day. Until then-

Ghana is…
…a constant reminder that just because that bug is terrifying, it doesn’t mean you have to kill it.
…proof that the world contains people happy to help you out just because it’s the nice thing to do.
…a lesson in improvisation- when cooking, teaching, responding to marriage proposals, treating illness and injury, fixing
things, and even wiping your butt.
…a place where “poor” by no means is the same as “miserable.”
…an inspiration to always celebrate life, even in the darkest of moments.
…an admonition that people work harder than the “first world” imagines to produce the things we take for granted
…the notion that through peace and unity,amazing things can be achieved.
…my home, my heart, my muse, and always a part of me.

Stargazing

I’ve reached the final countdown.  In 21 days I will be leaving my beloved home for the last time.  In 25 days I will leave Ghana, the place that has stolen my heart.  I am excited for new things but also a bit devastated by all the goodbyes.  I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately on my experience, on the things I will miss, and on how truly blessed I have been.  One of my favorite things is to stand outside on a clear night an look up at the stars.  It’s beautiful and more clear than anywhere I’ve been in America, and always fills me with so much emotion.

I have been struggling blogging lately, running out of exciting new experiences or anecdotes humorous to non-PCVs.  And so after staring at the sky for the past half hour, I’ve decided to give you something different, to do something I haven’t done since high school.  A poem.  Sorry in advance!

“Stargazing”

The night sky
Is a remarkable thing.

We look up innocently at
Balls of gas larger than the human mind can truly fathom
So far away that, even at light speed,
It would take billion, trillions of years
Just to reach the nearest ones
So long that by the time we got there
Earth would be nothing but a memory
A cloud of dust
And the atoms that were once stars
And then once humans
Would once again be returned to space
To become something new.

And yet this light
Emanating from impossibly far away
Travels all those many years
To dazzle us as we wish upon the stars of the midnight sky
To remind us of the eternity that is the universe
And that we are part of.

But the diamonds sparkling above
Do not see us all as equals.

In the lands of opportunity
The lands of ease and convenience and good fortune
Man’s own creation choke out the light
Leaving the sky bland
And twinkling sparse
And the people are too lost in their own lives
To look up at the infinity above our heads.

It is in the land of the less fortunate
The undeveloped world
That these balls of gas can be seen
For their true majesty
For their true magnitude
A stunning array of the magic of the universe
The endlessness of possibility
And those who possess so little
Are richer than us all
When the sun goes down and the stars rise.

The Final Stretch

Hi again! So much going on in the short time since I last wrote.

The first week of May I attended my Close of Service (COS) conference in the beautiful Volta Region of Ghana. I received some great advice on life and career after Peace Corps and had fun with some great people who graciously accepted me into their training group (unfortunately I was still trapped in America when my original group had their COS conference). After the conference ended, I stuck around a few days to explore the nearby monkey sanctuary and waterfalls. The falls were beautiful and it was amazing to go behind them. The monkeys were friendly and I miraculously did not fall out of any trees or break any bones!

My last night in Volta, another volunteer met up with me to bring me her students Lawrencia and Jon, who I would be escorting to the Students Taking Action, Reaching for Success (STARS) conference. Our road there was a long one- the direct bus that we got up at 3:30 am to take broke down after only two hours. Then the replacement being sent got an irreparable flat tire before it even reached us! After five and a half hours, the three of us decided to get the heck out of dodge and started hitchhiking to the nearest ferry crossing. Between their many languages and my white privileged, we managed to make our way, bit by bit, to the conference in Kumasi.

Fortunately, everything went up from there. STARS is probably the most fun and fulfilling thing I’ve done in Peace Corps and my two students who came, Nancy and Sheila, are still talking about it daily! The first two days were with twenty senior high students, who participated in sessions on goal setting and how to be a leader. They also enjoyed advice from a varied career panel that included my dear friend and director of Mum’s Love, Mr.. Adams. The favourite event by far was when they got to skype with the amazing Alison Russell’s students all the way in America! I helped with some of the sessions and facilitated a session about sexual health and condom use (which I’m sure shocks you all), but my big role came in the later days, when the junior high kiddos arrived.

I was a “group leader” aka counselor for a group of ten kids. It was a great time to pull out all my favourite Rim Rock games (two truths and a lie) and songs (we sang the good morning song every morning). Like the SHS kids, these guys were incredibly bright and so much fun. We had forty JHS students total, and had the SHS students practice their leadership by being role models and teachers for the younger ones. Again, we had some great and varied sessions, including my one on up-cycling water sachets into bags. We also made “compliment mailboxes” so people could leave nice notes for everyone; I personally got some amazing compliments from a whole bunch of kids, including one of the junior high school girls not in my group calling me her “role model.” I also had some serious proud-mama moments when Nancy and Sheila taught sessions to the JHS students; they were superstars.

After STARS I had a few weeks back at site to study, and last week I traveled to Accra to take the GRE. The test was harder than I anticipated somehow, but one of my raw scores was pretty good (91st percentile) and the other pretty mediocre (65th). Guess we will see. I did enjoy spending the week with a PCV from Burkina Fasso who I met on my Christmas vacation, as well as seeing a lot of other volunteers. It was a bit sad to realize I may never see some of them again (at the very least not in Ghana), and even sadder to realize that as I returned to my site, it marked the last time of my coming home after a long trip. My next long trip will take me to new and exciting places, but it won’t end with me coming home to Duayaw Nkwanta.

But on a happier note, said trip is fleshing out nicely. As it stands, my itinerary is as follows:

• 1 August- head down to Accra and begin the COS process
• 5 August- fly out of Ghana at 5:30 pm!!
• 7 August – 4 September- volunteer with Mozambique Horse Safari (leading rides, entertaining clients, living the dream) in Vilanculos
• 5 September – 8 September- safari it up in Kruger National Park, South Africa
• 9 September – 15 September- explore Cape Town (activities already planned including a wine tour with all-you-can-eat cheese tasting, hiking, snorkling with seals, and cage-diving with great whites!)
• 16 September – 21 September- explore Victoria Falls (staying Zimbabwe side but have day trips planned in Botswana and Zambia; activities planned include a day trip to Chobe National Park, elephant-back safari, lion cub interaction, gorge swing, white water rafting, swimming in the Devil’s Pool, and a tour of the falls)
• 22 September- landing at Dulles International Airport at 5:30 pm!

I can’t wait for my adventures and I’m excited to see everyone when I get home! Three months and one week til I’m back in the Rock- yikes! Better get to marking all those papers.

Flying

Well it’s been quite a long time since I blogged- my apologies. Life has been rather crazy of late, though typically in the best way possible. “Flying” seems to have become the theme of my life, both in an abstract and literal sense.

The past school term flew by. I struggled to complete everything I wanted to with the students and it blows my mind that I only have one more term with them. My first few terms teaching seemed to drag by but now they are moving so fast I can barely keep up. I will be in and out this term for various events, so hopefully I will be able to finish everything I need to teach them before I leave.

Similarly, I find my time in Ghana flying by at an frightening speed. There are many more things I still need to do or would like to do, and not much time left to do them. My service has not been typical but I have spent the better part of three years in this country and it is almost alarming that only three short months remain. I think I am at a point where I will be ready to move on to the next part of my life when the time comes, but that does not completely eliminate my panic over leaving.

I have also done a bit of literal flying, jumping off a mountain and paragliding down as an Easter celebration. In addition to this leap of faith, I went bouldering, swam in a local pond, sat on crocodiles, and explored a new part of Ghana to celebrate my birthday. Now I am off to see yet another new piece of Ghana as I head to my COS (close of service) conference. Ghana seems to still have a few more adventures waiting for me.

As my time here is coming to a close, I often find myself almost overwhelmed by how much I have learned and seen in my service. It is a well-known Peace Corps “fact” that new volunteers are often bubbly and optimistic, volunteers one year in are frustrated, and volunteers on their way out tend to have a jaded acceptance of the country. I am not sure “jaded” appropriately describes how I am feeling, but I certainly no longer expect Ghana to surprise me anymore. I often feel have seen it all.

I bring this up because a few weeks ago, I was traveling to Kumasi to help with an HIV testing event. As usual, my tro was crowded and smelly and stuck in traffic while blasting gospel music. I was in the back, over it all, attempting and failing not to be grumpy. The man next to me, who had been muttering bible passages the whole trip, began to sing with the music in a tuneless, scratchy voice. It was enough to make me want to cover my ears and curse living in Ghana.

But then something beautiful happened. One by one, other passengers joined in with his song. Individually, I doubt even one of them had a “good” voice. But in the magic of so many people singing together at once, their voices blended into a beautiful choir. About twenty strangers, singing together in impromptu praise, creating a haunting melody shaped more by love than actual musical talent. It was one of the more beautiful things I have ever heard.

My time in Ghana is flying faster and faster towards the finish line. And I have learned so much living here, experienced so many new things. But that tro ride was enough to remind me that in Ghana, and anywhere, I have not seen everything, and even the things that most annoy me have to potential for great beauty. If there is only one lesson I can take home from my Peace Corps experience, I want it to be this.

Traditional Values vs. Modern Society

Recently my school competed in a debate, the prompt of which was “The decay in the teaching of our traditional values has directly resulted in the indiscipline of today’s youths.” My girls did very well and it was an enjoyable and impressive event, but the topic and the arguments for and against it really got me thinking.

My first reaction upon hearing it was to scoff- lack of traditional values should not be blamed for “indiscipline” and it should not be assumed that today’s youths are worse than the youth of the last generation. My reaction was strong and confident and a bit condescending, as if all this should be obvious. Fortunately, I kept my opinions to myself and listened to the arguments of my students and the other schools who had to argue for the motion.

Some very interesting points were raised that I had not considered. It was pointed out that by losing their traditional culture, youths felt less national pride and more interest in leaving the country; thus those staying do not care and do not strive to improve the country. Another argument I had not anticipated but whole heartedly agree with is that Christianity, while incredibly prevalent, is not traditionally Ghanaian but is convincing many Ghanaian youths that they can behave how they want but as long as they accept Jesus they will go to heaven. So while traditional values cheat girls and put more worth in respecting elders than succeeding in school, they do seem to have an important place in society.

I think part of my instinctive rebellion against the motion was that I myself grew up without the benefit of cultural values, or at least without widespread ones. I was raised based on my family’s values, and to a much lesser extent my community’s, but in a place as large and diverse as America there is not really the sense of shared tradition. So I grew up without the teaching of traditional values; and I’d like to think I turned out alright.

So here is the next question: clearly traditional culture has its benefits, instilling a sense of pride and community, of morality and responsibility. But it also can create traps in the form of gender roles, appropriate jobs, and relationships. Is it better to teach these values? To be from a place that has them in the first place?

Like many things I have pondered in my time here, there does not seem to be a better and worse, a right and wrong. Sometimes in explaining to my students the lack of festivals or native languages prevalent in American society, I feel a bit self-conscious and even deprived, as though not having those things means I have not lived as richly as they have. On the other hand, I spend a significant amount of my time here encouraging women to rebel against the gender roles that say they must have children or they can only be nurses and not doctors, acting as though these women here can only live as richly as I have if they cast off these traditions. There are definite downsides to living in a culture without a cultural heritage, and there are downsides to living in a culture defined by them. And while people who have traditional values should not let these values define them, perhaps they should try to keep and protect them when they can- there is still much that can be learned from and understood about those who came before us. And people like me, who live in a country without these deep cultural roots, should enjoy their freedoms and not feel ashamed by the lack of tradition; but they should not be so quick to judge those who do have traditional values as “simplistic” or “stuck in the past.”

Which leads me to my next thought: should these traditions be preserved? And whose responsibility is it to do so? I have always been a bit of a pack rat, wanting to keep everything I own because it may be useful one day, and until then it has sentimental value. Perhaps because of this mind set, I feel all traditions, and languages and cultures, should be preserved to the best of our abilities; they have the potential to benefit the world and they hold a sentimental value to many. So perhaps it is the responsibilities of countries like Ghana to keep their traditions alive (provided they aren’t harming people) and the responsibilities of countries like America to stop trying to force our lifestyles on others. I am not saying that all Americans should learn Twi and should stop sending new innovations over to Ghana; rather, I am saying that English doesn’t necessarily deserve to be valued over Twi, and the day they build a McDonalds here I will cry.

So while I still believe it is wrong to blame the so-called indiscipline of today’s youths on the decay of teaching traditional values, I do think these traditional values have their, well, value. So long as no one is being harmed or limited by these practices, I think they have the potential to enrich and benefit both the immediate society and the global society. Perhaps it is time for us “modern” and “western educated” individuals to stop pressing on others our own ideas of how to make life better, and instead focus on learning as much from others and they learn from us.

(Forgive the philosophical ramble- we are coming on three years of the Ghana portion of this blog and I am running out of stories to tell that have not already been told. So please, for these last few months here, tell me what you want to read about! I am happy to oblige.)

Excellent Adventures

I feel like I start every blog like this, but long time no see! I was incredibly busy last school term with three classes, getting books for the school and organizing them, and planning a science fair. Then I was traveling for nearly a month, the events of which I will briefly regale you with.

I began with a visit to Ghana’s most swimmable lake to celebrate a few friends birthdays. After a few days I traveled to Accra with two friends to get visas for Togo and Benin, which we did in two days using some great timing and some small small bribery. After a fun night out to say our farewells to Ghana, we headed over to Togo. We staying the capital city, Lome, which is right across the Ghana border. Our first night we went down to the beach where we met a Togolese man who said he would take us around Lome the next day and give us the grand tour- he even offered to drive us on his motorcycle or pay his own cab fair. We took him up on the tour guide part but said we’d be more than happy to pay his fees if he’d translate for us. So the next day the four of us set off to see Lome.

We began at a voodoo market where we saw more dead animals than you could possibly imagine. Skulls and paws and whole birds and lizards; it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. It was explained to us that the parts were only collected from dead animals (he neglected to say how the animals died) and only used for white magic. There were different birds and lizards and monkeys, heads of dogs and lions and badgers, skulls of horses and cows, porcupine quills, hippo skin, pelts, and more. We visited with the local priest who showed us different totems and explained their purpose. There was one for good luck, one to protect you during travels, on to bring you love, and one to make you “f*ck like buffalo” (he said this at least ten times). We were then asked to pay at an outrageous price but given a chance to haggle with the spirits, which involved tossing shells and then ignoring them and telling us a price half as much but still outrageous. But hey, it’s vacation. After the voodoo market we saw an art market, an art museum, and a history museum where our guide literally bribed the guard to turn off the security cameras so we could take pictures. Finally tired out, we returned to our hotel where we met Peace Corps Togo volunteers and partied the night away with them.

The next day was spent lounging at a pool and on the beach with our new PC Togo friends. In the evening we went out to a night club and a reggae club, which was very fun. But having seen much of Lome at this point, we decided to move on to Benin.

Our first stop in Benin was Ouidah, which houses the python temple. The snakes here are considered sacred and, though technically wild, are very calm and friendly. They are let out to hunt every night and return to the temple every morning. We wore one like a necklace and waded through a bunch more. But due to little going on in the town and our practically non-existent French, we decided after snakes to head to the city of Cotonou. Here we did a day trip to a village called Ganvie, which is built entirely on stilts in the middle of a lake. Each family has three canoe-like boats- one for the husband to go fish, one for the wife to sell the fish, and one for the kids to take to school. This village had a church, a school, even a hospital- more than many land-villages in Ghana can brag of. When we returned to Cotonou we met up with some PC Benin people who we then traveled with the next day to a beach called Grand Popo. Here we celebrated Christmas Eve with tribal dancing around a bonfire and Christmas Day with swimming, another bonfire, a dance party on the beach, and skinny dipping in the ocean. The funny thing about Peace Corps, I’m finding, is we all seem to have a shared core-insanity and have experienced very similar things despite different sites and different countries. And as I learned on the way home, we have a way of recognizing each other.

After three lovely nights at the beach, we went back to Lome, my intention being to return to Ghana that day. But as we stopped for drinks we saw someone we thought looked distinctly PC. Turns out he was a volunteer in Burkina Faso also enjoying his Christmas holiday. I ended up spending an extra night to hang out with him and convinced him to meet up in Ghana when he was through with Lome. True to his word, he showed up in Ghana two days later and I took him around Accra and brought him to a PC New Year’s Eve party in Kumasi. It was a fun night with (shocking really) more drinking and dancing and bonfires. I brought in the 2015 with new friends and old, all cuddled around a bonfire at 3 am.

While celebrating, I made a few new friends who invited me to join them on a trip on the 2nd to go to a northern Ghana city of Wa and visit a hippo pond. Naturally that sounded too fun to pass up, so I shoved my dirty laundry a little deeper in my bag, surfaced what smelled the least gross, and went with them. Our PC Burkina friend joined us and continued on to the border. We spent the night in Wa (which really is more a large village than a city) and the next day set off through a thick haze of Harmattan dust to see some hippos. We took a dugout canoe within about 15 meters of a hippo mom, dad, and baby. This was small small terrifying as hippos are some of the most aggressive animals in the world, but we didn’t get eaten so that was a plus. Actually we got properly eaten by black flies, which was pretty miserable, but at least not deadly.

The next day, after 23 nights of not knowing exactly where I was going next, I finally came home. It is good to be back, although I am confused by the lack of white people and crazy things to do. I am attempting to post pictures now, fingers crossed they work this time!

One Word

These past few weeks have been crazy! In addition to a ton of teaching (I have two classes I meet three times a week each, one class that will begin next week and also meet three times a week, semi-regular extra classes, and a lot of informal tutoring), I traveled for a wedding, participated in a PC Ghana-wide project, helped at our regional spelling bee, and have been spending a lot of time exploring my town with friends as guides.

The wedding was a Muslim wedding in the Upper East Region of Ghana, aka far far away, so it was a whole new cultural experience. Very beautiful and still had the Ghanaian constant-party vibe; one major difference was the lack of alcohol, which was great for me because a lot less drunken harassment. The project, called Ghana Get Some Books, was a collaboration between a bunch of PCVs to get books for our communities. My school received about 800 books! It was very exciting. The Bee was fun too, I always love working with the little ones and I never fail to be impressed by their spelling ability (one of the harder words was vis-a-vis; can you imagine being a 12 year old non-native English speaker and having to spell that??). Like I said, a lot has been going on but none of it is particularly interesting to write/read about beyond that summary.

So, I’m trying something new. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but looking at my pictures I found some of them bring just one word to mind. I decided to share some of them with you. These pictures are from my entire service to date and I consider them some of the most powerful, if not the best photos technically. I considered writing a small description of each for you, but came to the conclusion it would defeat the one-word concept. If you want to know about a picture, comment and I’ll explain. Otherwise, please enjoy! (Click the pic to enlarge)

Freedom

Friendship

Gaurdians

Imagination

Joy

Patriotism

Power

Sisters

Strength

Swag

Teammates

Celebration

Childhood

Cool

Curiosity

Excitement

Listing

Hi everyone, it’s been a while. School was out and my life took quite a turn for the boring, so there wasn’t a whole lot to update you on. School just started up again this week, so life is picking up again and I will hopefully have some interesting stories soon. I am teaching two classes (technically three but one of them probably won’t show up until next term) and hopefully will be doing some HIV related projects as well. But for your entertainment until then, I will once again share some of the silly lists I keep.

Things that make me feel like a PCV:
•Removing a botfly(?) larva from an abscess in my face. One of the grossest things I’ve ever done but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like a badass afterwards.
•Carrying things on my head (I’ve gotten pretty good at it too!).
•When people in town greet me by name- Alana, Akua, Nyamekye, really anything other than “obruni” or “white.”
•A successful conversation in Twi. Doesn’t have to be long, just successful.
•A long and meaningful conversation with a Ghanaian. When I talk about things like politics, religion, homosexuality, corruption, education, relationships, and other serious topics, I feel like I am introducing views they have never considered, and vice versa.
•When I visit the orphanage and the kids mob me in greetings. Makes my day every time.
•Talking to a random person and ending up educating them on malaria/HIV/etc. This happens far more often than I would ever expect.
•Spending time with students just answering questions about America. Teaching chemistry is nice and important at all, but when I tell kids about a new place, that’s when I see their eyes lit up and eager to learn.

Things that only make sense in Ghana:
•Your friend, upon noticing you have lost weight, repeatedly tells you that you are looking fat so you will continue to buy food at his restaurant.
•“Students were meant to report today but it rained all day so no one will come.”
•Three days after students were meant to report, a class with one fifth of its students present is doing very well.
•Having male prisoners come and do the landscaping (using machetes) at an all-girls school because you can have them do hard and dangerous labour for almost no money.

Ghanaian habits that make me a rude American:
•Hissing and snapping. This is how we get people’s attention in Ghana, it’s perfectly normal. In America, I get disgusted glares.
•Greeting strangers. And not strangers. And sleeping people. And people clearly busy. Ghanaian culture dictates that you always greet. American culture dictates unless you know someone, you pretty much avoid eye contact; if you do know them, often times a simple knod of the head will do.
•Holding hands during conversation. When you greet someone, you shake hands. Sometimes, you don’t let go. For the entire time you’re talking. Even if your hands are grossly sweaty. At home this would make people incredibly uncomfortable.
•Haggling. No price here is set in stone, even ones that are written down. And the best way of getting the price you want is throwing a hissy fit then walking away. I don’t see this working out well in Target.
•Ignoring personal space. In Ghana, there can be an entire open room, or bus. The seat that calls you is the one next to the only other person. Imagine doing that in western society: “who is this creep and what do they want?”
•Ignoring privacy. Here knocking is not asking permission, it is announcing that you are walking in. Closed doors are rare, even when in the shower or toilet. Everyone knows where you live and wants to know what you are doing. It’s a sign you care. I believe the American way of describing this is “gross invasion of privacy.”
•Making children do everything for me. Not only is it normal in Ghanaian culture to have small children clean your house and do your laundry and carry your things and fetch your water, it is an insult to said children if you don’t let them. At home there is legislation against this sort of thing.
•Visiting people unannounced. This kind of goes with the privacy thing but it bears repeating. In Ghana a friend (or acquaintance) can just show up at your door to visit, whether for a short time or for a few days, and you are supposed to accommodate them. People who do this in the States generally don’t have many friends after a while.
•Calling people fat. If you are fat, you have probably led a good life full of abundant food and little hardship. Ghanaians see this as a good thing, so why not exclaim it to all around? Americans are oddly touchy about sentiment.
•“Ey!!!” And other various high-pitched sounds that are not quite words. These sounds can express surprise, joy, anger, or anything really. Or in America, they can express a monosyllabic vocabulary.
•Greeting and picking up random children. Kids here have no concept of “stranger danger” and parents have no concern. It is not at all out of line to pick up a random kid, or walk off with one. And if that kid is being a pain, it is not out of line to punish them. I foresee an orange jump suit and bars for anyone trying this practice in the USA.

Culture

Over the past month I have had the privilege of watching (and helping a bit) my school prepare for a cultural competition, then watching them compete at the Zonal and Regional levels. These competitions have a number of categories- site singing, choral music, story telling (in Twi), drama (in English), poetry recital (in Twi), drumming and dancing, and drum language (translating Twi into drum beats). It is a wonderful thing to see a merging of the Western-based education practices and material of Ghana schools with the rich heritage of Ghana that predated any European colonial. Students dressed in the traditional draped fabric and beads and sandals and head dresses. Songs and dances and poems reflected a great pride and joy in the history of their people. As the play my students preformed (written by my brilliant counterpart Nat!!) stated, “Why would anyone not love our culture? I understand that western education has done a lot for our people, but that is not enough!” By celebrating and preserving their culture in addition to embracing modern practices, Ghanaians (and any other cultures) are able to embrace all parts of themselves and provide a unique perspective on the world.

Prior to the Regional Competition in Kintampo, we took the participating students to the Kintampo Waterfalls to climb around and wade and take pictures. Most Ghanaians don’t travel much so for many of these students it was their first time seeing the falls. The joy and excitement was a great thing to see as students first nervously but with increasing confidence waded into the shallow water. Prim girls who wipe down chairs before sitting in order to avoid dust were letting their dresses get soaked as they went into the water. Boys who always try to look cool and confident were slipping and sliding along slippery rocks and shrieking in fear when they temporarily lost their balance, not paying any attention to how they appeared to others. I have written before how children here have to grow up fast, taking on many responsibilities at very young ages. It makes it that much more fun to see them let go and act like kids for a little while. It brought me back to trips like this I would take in high school, and made me glad that at least some of these kids were able to share what I considered to be an incredibly transformative experience from my own high school days.

At the Zonal level, my students came in first place in story telling, poetry recital, and drama in English, and second in choral music and fourth in drumming and dancing; in Regionals they came in second in poetry recital and drama (story telling had been cut). Truly they deserved first in both these categories, but sometimes things go that way. I was very proud of how they preformed and how they comported themselves and interacted with the other schools. Both competitions were incredibly enjoyable and illuminating for me, and I’m so glad I was able to experience them. I took videos that I will (eventually) patch together to give a better view of the experience; for now pictures can be found at https://www.facebook.com/alana.shein/media_set?set=a.10202542573985407.1073741833.1227600436&type=3 . Enjoy!

On an unrelated note, Peace Corps has been getting a lot of negative media time of late and a number of people have contacted me about it. I wanted to address everything and encourage you all to ask if you have any concerns. One of the articles was a piece in the New York Times about a China volunteer, Nicholas Castle, who died of illness during his service. His family and others questioned whether this death was avoidable and if the attention from PC medical officers (PCMOs) was inadequate or incompetent. Obviously I can not speak for PC globally but I can speak fairly knowledgeably about the medical service in Ghana. Only one other volunteer has died from illness in the past 5 years and she happened to be a friend of mine in Ghana; her death was devastating but not, as fair as I know, the result of negligence on the part of the PCMOs. I too almost died here, not from anything Ghana related but from a pulmonary embolism. The attention I received was immediate and while I wish the doctors had kept me personally better informed of what was happening, my frustrations were never in regards to the actual care I was receiving. It is not a perfect system but at no point have I ever felt my life or health was in jeopardy due to a lack of care or competence.

Another series of articles in the past week was about the Ebola outbreak. Papers keep reporting that PC is pulling out of West Africa. This is NOT TRUE. PC has evacuated volunteers from countries affected by the epidemic- Liberia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone- until further notice. The rest of us have been educated on what to avoid, what symptoms to pay attention to, and what the plan is if a positive test comes to our countries of service. I have been watching the news pretty regularly and while Ghana has had a number of false alarms, we have had no cases yet (nor have any of our immediate neighbours). And the false alarms are oddly comforting- it means hospitals are staying ahead of the situation and testing any potentially ill person, as opposed to trying to avoid all contact with the ill.

I know this is probably still scary to some, but I assure you I feel completely secure. And if you are concerned, talk to me! I’m happy to help. And the fact is, I understood when I joined PC that there is an inherent risk to living in an underdeveloped country halfway across the world. There are illnesses I never thought much of before and travel risks that, if thought about too much, can make you want to never leave the house. But the greatest consequences give rise to the greatest rewards; my time back in America working at Help in the Home was pleasant, and certainly safe, but it never left me close to as fulfilled as I feel here. Peace Corps is a risk but it is worth every second of it. To close, I refer you to this lovely op-ed that I think sums up my, and my fellow PCVs, feelings beautifully. Enjoy.
http://www.sfgate.com/opinion/openforum/article/Peace-Corps-service-is-a-risk-worth-taking-5658172.php

Ghana-napped

There is a reason we are taught from a young age not to get in the car
with strangers. Among other dangers, you could get kidnapped. This
is precisely what happened to me on a hot Saturday afternoon one week
ago. I had trekked the entire 1.2 miles (oh yes, I have measured the
exact distance from my house to market) and had bought all my heavy
foods. I was psyching myself up for the walk home and trying to
subtly wipe away the copious amounts of sweat dripping from various
parts of my body when a black Toyota pulled up next to me. I had
noticed the same car pass me three times in various directions on my
walk to town; but as it is not unusual for a car to waste gas just to
stare at the white person, I had not paid it much heed. However, as
it had pulled up right next to me this time, I conceded that I was
most likely obliged to greet whoever it was that was so fascinated by
me.

Two sharply dressed men sat in the front seat; discarded funeral
fabric was piled in the back. The driver smiled at me and asked me in
English where I was going. I said I was going home and, without
asking where home was or who I was he told me to get in. And I did.
Ghana is a place where hitchhiking is the norm and people with cars
regularly offer rides to those they see walking. As a white person
this happens practically daily to me, and I thought nothing of it.

The driver took off in the slightly wrong direction, but I did not
question- he most likely had an errand he had to do first. He asked
my name and introduced himself as Kofi. He asked if there was
anything else I wanted to buy and offered to help me find it. I
chatted politely as we dropped his friend off, and moved into the
front seat while deftly turning down the offers of a beer and a
husband. The car was delightfully air conditioned, a rarity in Ghana,
and I was quite pleased with my fortune as we turned down to road
towards my school. I chatted with Kofi about his job in Accra, mine
in Duayaw Nkwanta, and the fact that he could ask me to marry him but
would be disappointed by my answer. He assured me I could never
disappoint him.

As we pulled within site of the school gate, I leaned down to collect
my bags. Suddenly, I felt the car turn; too early, in the wrong
direction. I looked up as we pulled into an area with nice houses that
I had visited once before. We pulled up to a house blaring music and
clearly hosting a funeral. Kofi told me I should leave my things in
the car where they would be safe. Once again just shrugging off the
oddness of it, I put my phone and wallet in my pockets and followed
him into the compound.

We were met by a massive group of men all in traditional funeral
cloth, a handful of women bustling around serving food and drink, and
music blaring so loud I could hardly hear people talking. A typical
Ghanaian funeral. I kept my arms crossed, self-conscious of my jeans
and m shirt with the hole I just noticed in the seam, but thankful I
was at least wearing something Ghanaian. Kofi introduced me to a few
people whose names I pretended to hear while smiling and shaking
hands. They led me to a central table and sat me down, at which point
Kofi, the man I had known ten minutes and the closest thing I had to a
familiar face at the funeral, walked away.

I spent the next hour smiling and nodding and feeling incredibly
awkward as everyone stared at me, laughed at me, talked about me in a
variety of languages I could not understand. Luckily, that is just a
typical day in Ghana for me so I was not particularly fazed, just
uncomfortable. After a time Kofi came back with a giant plate of
waakye (a traditional dish of rice and beans, served with gari and a
spicy sauce of ginger, garlic, hot peppers, and onions) and an entire
box of wine just for me. He put it in front of me with the oft used
encouragement, “Eat alllllll.” Being a frequently broke volunteer who
had been dreading cooking dinner that night, I wasn’t going to argue.
I tucked in, eating as much as I could of the food to the cheers and
laughs of those around me. When I felt as though I might explode, I
conceded defeat once again to the giant Ghanaian portion sizes and
settled back to nurse my boxed wine and attempt to socialize over the
blaring music.

I spent two hours talking to these strangers, laughing, dancing,
drinking. Between the music and the language barrier and the wine I
can honestly say I understood almost none of what was said; I think
the feeling was mutual. But I had more fun than should be possible in
such a situation, and felt completely welcome by these strangers at
the funeral of a person I never even learned the name of. The warm
welcoming that is fundamental to the Ghanaian persona was at full
force.

Eventually I realized it was getting late in the afternoon and
remembered I still had many papers to mark before the power went out
that night (as it so often does). I tried to make my excuses to Kofi
and explain that he did not have to leave as my school was practically
right across the main road. But no, why should I walk ten minutes
when he could drive me? We made our rounds once more, shaking hands
and thanking who I could only assume were our hosts, then hopped back
into his car. He drove me over to the school, telling me about how he
had attended it when he was young and how he was friends with many of
the teachers there now. When we arrived, I showed him my home and he
asked if I would come to a party with him later that night. Exercise
books waiting, I was forced to politely decline; then decline again
and again as he kept nagging. In a display of Ghanaian proper host
skills, I offered him water and a seat in the shade to drink it.
After he finished I walked him to the car and thanked him for a lovely
afternoon. We exchanged phone numbers and I promised to call him if I
finished my marking early. Then he drove off, never to be heard from
again, and I went inside to take a nap and grade.

And that is the story of how I was kidnapped by a complete stranger in
a foreign country and had a fantastic afternoon.