Last Day

Makola, Arts Centre, Beach, walking around Accra, Fan Choco, plantain chips and pure water.

Great last day, hands down. Printing boarding passes now, going home to haphazardly pack, and then the flight takes off. Excited, nervous, sad - all sorts of emotions.

Home soon :)

Monday

It's Monday. Leaving on Saturday. Here's what I know:

I'm going to freeze. It's 93 degrees right now and I'm happy about it.
I need to go to the beach every day until Saturday....PENNSYLVANIA IS LANDLOCKED!!!!!
I need to get my friend's phone numbers that will work on next Monday when we're all cold and confused without 50 pesua rice down the street.

That's all for now. Shortest post ever? Yes.

Time - There, Here, Now and Then

I. [There]

Use it wisely,

Don’t waste.

Manage, master and mind

That time. Fill the day

Rise to rest.

Walk fast, head down,

Don’t look, don’t talk.

Be on time, never late.

What’s your schedule?

Pencil me in.

II. [Here]

It’s time is not yet.

“I’m coming” [pause] (as she walks away)

Leave when it’s full,

Start when professor comes,

Leave when lecture ends.

Depart when driver awakes.

Speak to me, learn Twi,

Good afternoon my friend.

III. [Now]

5 hours late

            Met a stranger, talked about life

Filled up in 40 minutes

            Fan ice and plantain chip break

4 hour lunch

            Where else did we have to be?

Class out early

            Extra Tawala time

Delayed professor

            Email to mom

Friend late to meet

            Amateur philosophy, advanced billiards and familiar strangers

IV. [Then]

Turn off the alarm,

Trust the sun.

Go when I am ready.

Walk slow,

Say hello.

Revel in the moment,

Pay homage to the idle minute,

Delight in the surprise of solitude.

Embrace the fluid second and

Stop worshipping perfect, rigid structure.

Reject obsession with control.

Relax;

Let the universe dictate when it is ready

Read the signs of yes or no.

Listen to the breathing clock of life.
 

Spirit

I really have time to write a little bit tonight (finals are coming up…I’ll use that as my excuse for not having posted, and the likely infrequent postings over the next few weeks) so here we go.

This past weekend we traveled to Northern Ghana staying in Tamale, and visiting both Bolgatanga and Paga. We learned about Islam and were able to visit a Mosque, because there is a prominent Muslim community in the northern region.

 I don’t really remember in what order all of this occurred, so I’m just going to skip around as I see fit/recall.  We went to see a clinic run by Dr. Abdallah; possibly the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s a Ghanaian, and was trained to be a doctor in the U.S., but came back to practice (a rarity, I assure you – brain drain) in the relatively poor northern part of the country. He runs a free clinic treating malaria, fistulas, hernias, leprosy and pretty much whatever else he can. He doesn’t offer maternal or pediatric care, because that is provided for free by the government. He does however, do C-Sections (not covered by the government), and any other operation that comes his way. He runs an outpatient clinic, has an in-patient ward/bungalow neighborhood where the ill AND their families can stay for the duration of the illness, and also offers social support for HIV/AIDS patients. He is able to do preliminary testing for HIV/AIDS, but then refers patients to a government hospital for medication.  This is all pretty amazing, right? Yeah, we think so too – but it gets better. First of all, preference is given to patients that are the most destitute, poor and out-casted – noble indeed. Second, he has housing available for “destitutes”. Third he feeds the poor, and whoever needs food, especially HIV/AIDS patients, Fourth, he distributes clothing to those in need. Five he runs a microfinance program supporting local women. Incredible right? There’s more. Many of his staff are untrained, some even illiterate – he teaches men and women to do a certain job, or they figure it out, and then they stay there and work as nurses or surgical assistants – this is not that uncommon in Africa in general, especially in not-for-profit hospitals -  obviously there is a lot less regulation, especially for NGOs here. Also – he never solicits funds. This man is awesomely humble and has the biggest smile, but he doesn’t solicit funds. He believes in, and has been thus far entirely supported by ‘divine intervention’.  Though faith is very important to the Doctor, he makes it clear that there isn’t any expectation or attempt at conversion or pressure from one religion or another. He has Christian, Arabic and even Jewish (not common in Ghana) sayings around the buildings – he said they welcomed any faith with respect.

He told us the story of a time when his wife said they were out of food and wouldn’t have any to feed the people. He said that it would work out, or it was God saying they should rest from cooking food for a while. That same day an woman handed him a check for enough money to feed everyone for a month – he said this happens all the time – that donations come in just when they are most needed. Like I said – absolutely incredible man.

Later that day ( I think) we went to a widow’s community. Widows who refuse to be married to their dead husband’s brothers are essentially excommunicated along with their children. This group of women and children in particular weave baskets to survive. They were so welcoming and cheerful. We had a great afternoon, playing with the kiddos, watching them weave, learning to weave a little, dancing, singing and buying baskets. Great fun.

Spirit. That’s what comes to mind in describing Dr.Abdallah and the widows in that community. Strenght of spirit. They all faced immense hardships, emotional and physical, but they had a smile and a willing heart. I was moved by the happiness and air of barreling right on through hardship. I’m going to remember that sense of movement the next time I face a road block – nothing is impossible. There is always a way to be happy, or at least to put a smile on, or find the peace in a moment. It may not be easy, but that’s why it takes a strong spirit.

I’m going to try to keep writing more. As for pictures, I’m really quite bad about them – I’m going to make up for it with a bangin slideshow and a bunch of facebook albums (which I’ll link here or upload to photobucket for public view)when I return to an internet connection that cooperates. So, please be patient. I’m coming. (ß this is a Ghanaian phrase that gets muttered or yelled (depending on the circumstance) that really means “I’m walking away now, as I’m speaking, but I’ll be coming back in a little bit”)

I’m going to do some homework and head to sleep (these posting times aren’t correct, if you haven’t figured that out, but I don't really know how to change them, and I'm vastly unconcerned about it), but I do apologize for the fairly long hiatus - with any luck I'll be able to post regularly for a little bit.

:)

The Last Thing I Expected

One of our professors is the daughter of the former president of Ghana.  He ousted Nkrumah, and then was ousted by Nkrumah, but still – he was president. This professor, Dr. Busia, is a wonderfully dynamic woman. She is a full time professor at Rutgers University of English and specifically African Literature.  Her mother died in late January – the wife of the former president (now 30 years deceased), and we were invited to the funeral. Let’s keep in mind that Professor Busia is of royal lineage on both her mother’s and father’s side. This means that Nana Busia (her mother) was Ga royalty, and the family she had been married into for 60 years was Asante royalty. This subsequently means that it was a chief heavy funeral.

In Ghana, funerals are celebrations. Huge, gigantic, enormous celebrations. There is definitely an aspect of mourning and grief, but the point is to honor the dead in every way imaginable. So funerals often turn into whole neighborhood parties with food, drinks, music, dancing and various rituals. Everyone is invited.  This funeral was no exception, excepting that her and her husband’s family are all royalty. There was a whole tent for “chiefs” and literally entire pods of elders and ethnic leaders were chillin out watching one of the three groups of traditional drummers and dancers.

It was a great afternoon. Nisha and I had traditional print (white with black symbols, because the person who died was over 70) dresses made, and then we tro-tro’d to the event (miraculously…we were really lucky with some of the mates we encountered). It started at 1, so naturally we showed up at 2 and people were just beginning to get settled in. There were traditional proceedings, and a lot of shaking hands. Each group of people (kind of? Maybe? We couldn’t actually determine) got introduced over the loudspeaker (tons of huge speakers set up all over the place) and then went around and shook hands with everyone. Neat experience indeed. On our loop around, I stopped and talked to some women, and a couple that had a daughter going to school in Villanova.  Overall it was just a really awesome  event – we were lucky, in a way, to be able to see what goes on at such an epic traditional funeral of a really well loved first-lady. There was an air of sadness, but also an intent to remember with grace and happiness. It’s difficult to articulate, but Ghanaian views about death and mourning are very different from those in the West. Maybe more on that later.

Oh yeah. And Stevie Wonder was there. Legitimately sitting in the family section; apparently he’s a friend of the family. He didn’t sing – he was on the phone most of the time – but it was still pretty bizarre and cool. Yeah. I go to Ghana, go to the funeral of a royal former-first-lady, and see Stevie Wonder. These are the times I question just what else the universe has in store for me.

Comment, question – anything. Emails are also always appreciated J

Tree Time

This is the story we can't stop re-telling and laughing over - so I thought I'd share.

It's about 5:45pm, and dusk is near approaching. We have a very limited amount of time to reach the road where we should be able to call a taxi driver to come drive us back into town. We're resting on the rocks at the top of the mountain we just navigated and are discussing how to get down as we take the first few steps toward the bottom. Straight down. Instead of zig-zagging down, or finding the path of least resistance, we decide to opt for the most direct route. We travel in line down the mountain. I'm leading, bashing down vegetation to create some sort of path or passageway for the following two, calling out instructions as I go along, hoping to make a smooth journey down. Most of the instructions consist of "um..I'm slipping down facing backwards...grab onto the grass, it'll hold you" or "crab walk style for this part" with the one-time-only-special of "grab onto this tree and swing on it like a fire pole to this rock" - which is exactly what needed to be done. 

So we're making our way down the mountain with only a minor tumble taken by the ever persevering Nisha, when I realize we might have a problem. I wasn't on the ground. I was pushing through some really dense bush and I couldn't see the ground. I was just standing on bran--and I fell...into a tree. 

I looked down just before I fell and realized I wasn't being supported by anything except a thick layer of bush and tree, and the next thing I see is sky and Nisha. "I'm in a tree". They didn't believe me, and didn't quite know what to do. I was laying what should have been parallel to the ground, but really I think my body was forming a triangle with the mountain. Then they saw - "You're actually in the tree!" Yep. Yes, I was in a tree, facing the sky, and I couldn't get up because my legs were higher than my head. Whoops? I manage to flip myself over and tramp the bush down securely enough that I could keep moving forward - so what do Liza and Nisha do? They follow me into the tree. We decided on a direct route, so that's what we did. Thankfully that was the last tree we encountered on our otherwise smooth, rocky and highly vertical descent. 

As an extension of this story, we get to the bottom, and get our backpacks (we took our cameras, money, and my phone on our persons and left our bags behind some rocks and trees at the base of the mountain) and start to book it out. It's nearly nightfall, and we really want to get to the road. We know the general direction, but it's not like there's real paths anywhere, and we only have the flashlight on the phone for a torch. We drink one of our last two water sachets, thinking we'll drink the other when we've called the taxi to come retrieve us. I reach for my phone with the taxi driver's number in it and find, much to my dismay, that my phone has inconveniently vacated my pocket; probably currently residing in a tree. 

So. We start walking. We don't have the phone number now of the person that was to drive us to town, nor the great people we met before setting off that were going to find us a place to sleep, and we don't have water, and it's getting dark, and we're three girls, with all our stuff alone. Super. 

We get to the main (I use this term loosely, by the way. It was paved, but very infrequently traveled) road just as it falls dark and start to walk, because there's no sense just standing there. A yam truck (huge, dilapidated, tractor-trailer sized truck piled wayyy over the open top with bags of yams and yellow plastic oil containers) drives by, and we half flag it down, it half stops for us. We look to see if there's anyplace for us on the back. Negatory. A guy jumps out and asks where we're going before telling us to hop in. My bag, me, Liza & Nisha's bags, then Liza and Nisha. I climb into the balcony seating a level up from the front bench seat, while Liza and Nisha smush into the front seat. Awesome. We have a lovely conversation with the driver, who tells us his brother is in the US, in Virginia. He calls him, and hands me the phone. Turns out the guy is driving on 81 in Pennsylvania heading back to VA. Cool, right? 

So, that's actually three stories - falling into a tree, losing my phone, and hitchhiking on a yam truck. 

:) 

One Step at a Time: Easter Break

Easter Break.

 Motto: One step at a time.

Plan of Action: Go to Eastern Region of Ghana where there is a huge celebration and Paragliding festival for Easter around and on the Kwahu Platau with Liza and Nisha

What Actually Happened (in super brief format – I’ll outline the weekend, and then as I feel like it, and have time I’ll toss little stories into my blog entries. Feel free to ask questions)

Friday:

Circle (main station in Accra)

Got on a bus going to “Easter”

Atibie

Taxi to top of Kwahu Platau

Bought tickets

Taxi to Mpreaso

Shared taxi to Kwahu Tafo

Met Louis, Prince, Raymond, Albert

Taxi to Buruku

Hiked the mountain

Fell into a tree

Lost phone

Back to the road by sunset

Hitchhiked to Tafo in full Yam Truck

Met Ross and Astrid

Stayed in overpriced hotel [but it DID have running water]

Saturday:

Mini hike to Mini-but-awesome-Waterfall with Ross

Taxi to Adowso

Motor/fishing boat/canoe across one river of Lake Volta

Tro-tro from Ekye to Donkorkrom

Taxi to Agordekye

Looked at Lake Volta again

Bananagrams

Taxi to Donkorkrom

Met Sam

Great fufu and soup

Hung out with the whole town, little boys and live music

Slept in small, but super perfect room in Genesis hotel

Sunday:

Tro-Tro to Ekye

Ferry across river/lake volta

Boat to waterfall in Oworobong

Waterfall too far away; saw Oworobong village instead

Boat back, stop in Sambhia village on the way

Shared taxi to Mpreaso

Follow Ernest to Mpreaso high school

Rent tent

Get water, get clean

Hang out with what must have been all of Ghana in the streets of Mpraeso

Monday:

Taxi to top of Platau again

Jump off a cliff attached to a pilot and parachute

PARAGLIDE

Land.

Ride in the back of a pick up truck with a South African pilot, Nisha and a bunch of chutes up the mountain

Shared taxi down the mountain with mysterious ex-fed, ex-pat from New York living in Achimota

Eat rice

Tro-tro from Mpraeso to Nkawkaw

Stairwell of a bus from Nkawkaw to Koforidua

Shared taxi from Koforidua to Madina

Tro-Tro from Madina to Circle (in Accra)

Taxi from Circle to home

The. Best. Adventure. Ever.

We had a great, whirlwind of a time – we literally didn’t have a plan, and it couldn’t have worked out better!