Thursday, May 1, 2014

Balancing Life of Top of Your Head


In Ghana, I’ve had the chance to observe, take in, and practice a lot of different customs, practices, and traditions. One of the things that continually astounds me (apart from the out-of-this-world musical talents to sing and dance) is the idea of balancing something on your head. I was intrigued from the getgo- staring out the window on the ride from the airport to Kasoa that late August night. I was even more fascinated when the Sisters carried stacks of 40 textbooks on their heads from the convent, down the hill to the school, and up the stairs to the library. As the days went on, I thought I had seen it all. Everything from water sachets, huge boxes of ice cream, rolling suitcases, tables, desks, 15 stools at once, watermelons, and propane tanks (gas cylinders). I could not, CAN not believe the incredible balance that Ghanaian’s have.

Apart from the practiced skill of carrying everything A-Z on your head, which I haven’t yet mastered, Ghana has taught me another balance: balancing life. In Ghana, I learned the hard work of pounding fufu. The relaxation of an afternoon nap. The simple beauty of the African sunrise. The nation-wide passion of football (soccer). The thrill of buying plantain chips from the window of a moving vehicle without using your left hand. The patience of sitting in traffic. Or waiting 3 hours for a bus. Or explaining things 7 times because it’s hard to understand our accent. (I’ve learned a lot of patience). I’ve learned the pure joyfulness and celebration through song and dance at Church and festivities. I’ve learned the sorrow, the grief, and the communal support given at a funeral. I’ve learned to express friendly greetings to everyone I encounter. I’ve learned the peace of solitude, found under the shade of a tree.

Ghana has taught me to keep all things in balance. Stand up tall. Don’t look down. Embrace life, keeping all things in balance.  



The Adventure Continues


April 24 

50 Shades of Green
Mole National Park is gorgeous. So many shades of green! I went on a walking safari at 7 am with about 12 other Germans from various volunteer programs. Our guide was an armed ranger, just in case. We saw our first group of elephants within 15 minutes and got right up close. Awesome! From that point, we “tracked” the elephants, and the guided “walking” safari turned into a guided “run-hike-climb-sit-and-wait” safari. We caught another group of elephants stampeding into the watering hole. On land they seem so graceful but they are excited about taking a bath, they sound just like….. a herd of elephants. It was cool to watch them splash around. We saw a group of elephants hanging out in the dry savannah and I kept thinking, “Wow, I feel like I’m in Africa right now.” It’s so funny how I forget that yes, I actually am in Africa.
Other animals we spotted: wart hogs (Pumba!) baboons, white birds, antelope, and bush backs. No, there were no lions or tigers, but since we were on a walking tour I was quite alright with that.



Hello, Moto
Shani picked me up from the park after breakfast and we rode into Laribanga, his village. Our options for the day: “Do you want to visit the oldest mosque in Ghana, or sit under a tree?” Since it was in the heat of the day, we opted to sit under a tree for a few hours. The local tree in the middle of the village, two canopies intertwined offering a great relief to whoever passes beneath the branches. I hung out with many different people, ages 0-60, all passing to sit on a bench beneath these trees. How simple. How peaceful.
One of Shani’s friends offered to teach me how to ride his motorbike, and at first I thought he was kidding. But he wasn’t! I totally missed the first couple turns I was supposed to make, due to my inability to lean with it, rock with it, but I go the hang of it pretty quickly. It was so funny to see all the kids line up along the street to watch the white girl drive a moto. The were chanting “Go faster!” in their language, but I didn’t want to get too crazy.
For dinner we had fufu and groundnut soup, my favorite! In the North they make fufu with yam instead of cassava and plantain, and I prefer it. They also have 3 fufu pounders instead of one, and I was so nervous for the girl whose job it was to flip the fufu over and over with her hand, while three people are holding sticks and pounding so hard.
At night, some village girls put on a cultural dance program for me and the 4 German girls I was hanging out with. Apparently these Ghanaian girls don’t have the means to an education; many of them sell items during the day, and learn at night by the light of a single light bulb. I was really sad to hear that. There were about 20 girls, ages 10-15 who performed songs and dances for us in their traditional wear, and then they all grabbed the obrunis and we joined in. Of course, the white people look utterly ridiculous when we try to dance traditional African dance, but it was so much fun. We had a good laugh.
Around 11pm we took a walk to find the “mystic stone” to make a wish. It was cool. Again, the stars continued to amaze me.

Traveling in Ghana
The Germans stayed up all night to catch the 3am bus, but I took a little nap before I joined them. I stayed in Tamale the rest of the day with Shani’s friend, then caught the night bus to Accra. Arrived in Accra at 3:30am, sat on a bench until the sun came up so I wouldn’t have to walk in the dark, found a tro tro (15+ passenger van) to Kasoa and fell asleep as soon as I sat down. The mate (driver’s first mate) woke me up when we got to Kasoa, and I looked around in the empty tro tro. I slept the entire way, and the mate and driver laughed at me as I tried to orientate myself. Between waiting for a bus 3 hours late, to peeing on the side of the road, to sitting on a bench until the sun rises, traveling in Ghana can be an adventure in itself.




Another Goodbye.
Monica left on Saturday (April 26) for the states, due to an internship in NYC that starts sooner rather than later. Another trip to the airport. Another farewell. I am not prepared for that to be this coming Thursday. Yikes.



And then there was one.



Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Grand Adventures // The Land of 10,000 Motos


April 22
 Today I went to Mole National Park, in the Northern Region. This was a trip that Monica, Julie and I had planned, but since they had to leave early I adventured solo. Well, not completely solo, I had a friend of a friend who lived up there to take me around. The 12-hour bus ride was fine- the landscapes are gorgeous.

The bus pulled in at 7pm and at the stoplight I look out the window to see one million motorcyclists. I thought Hell’s Angels came to Tamale, but no, that’s just their mode of transportation. Tamale: the place where everyone and their grandmother drives a moto. Shani, my friend of a friend/ guide for the week picked me up and thus began the chapter: “My Life from the Backseat of a Motorcycle”.

Celebrations!


April 21
The Brothers and Father Bob came for Mass and it was so fun to have such a great choir of men and their drums. They are a lively bunch. Brother Nicholas came and played the keyboard for most of the songs and I was thoroughly impressed. No music, just listens and plays. Amazing. He didn’t practice at all; Sister Comfort would whisper the song he was supposed to play next and then he would just play it. I played for Communion and closing (by reading the sheet music) and afterward Brother Nicholas and I decided we would give each other piano lessons; I will teach him how to read and he will teach me how to listen.
We all went up to the rooftop for our party and boy, do the Brothers know how to celebrate. Kwame put on some great tunes and many Brothers, even old Brother Vincent, busted a move on the dance floor. It was hilarious to say the least. 

Happy Easter!


April 20 
We started off the celebration with Mass, joyful singing and praise. Glorious! The rest of the day was filled with preparations for the Easter Monday party, where the Brothers of the Holy Cross will travel from Cape Coast to have a mid-day rooftop celebration. Sister Comfort was in charge of music for the Mass, and insisted that we help her by singing, keyboarding, and guitaring. Our impromptu choir practice turned into hours of laughing and dancing while Kwame played on the keyboard and I tried to sing the songs in their language. Apparently I still have no idea how to pronounce the words. 

Countryside Children’s Welfare Home


April 16

Holy Thursday found us on a tro tro with a woman from church, heading to the orphanage. During announcements on Sunday they asked for donations for the children to take to the orphanage when they visit the kids, and Monica and I decided we had to see this place.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, maybe something out of Madeline, Meet the Robinsons, or Despicable Me. Alas, it could not have been more different. About a 45 minute drive out of the city, nestled in a valley between the rolling hills of rich vegetation, lies Countryside Welfare Home for Children. The compound consists of a primary schoo,, JHS, “dorms”, houses for the workers, a pig farm, cattle, chicken coops to hold 1000s of chickens, and a crop farm. Sounds huge? It is. 147 kids ages 0-22 call it their home. I  was shocked.
Before we could start our tour, Monica snatched up a little girl, Jessica, and I looked down to see a tiny boy reaching up for me to hold him. I picked him up, he smiled at me, and my heart melted. Richard, a year and a half, smiled and laughed and laughed and smiled in my arms until he fells asleep. His story- the police found him, abandoned by his parents, and brought him to the orphanage. A boy here, Joshua, age 10, cares for him greatly.
We returned just two days later, unable to get little Jessica and Richard out of our minds. Based on observation as well as pleasant conversation with a few of the older boys, this is what I’ve learned.
-They are educated on the compound until SHS (Senior High), and then they are sponsored to go into town for schooling.
-They can continue their education beyond high school, often though by learning trade skills such as seamstress, or shoemaking. During this time they can choose to stay on the compound or to leave, which explains why some of the orphans are in their 20s.
- The “dorms” are simply large rooms of bunk beds and lockers along the wall.
-They work together like one big, HUGE, interdependent family. Like I said, Joshua cares greatly for Richard, as many older children take care of the younger babies.

Mama Emma, the founder of Countryside, was an orphan herself. God is so great for giving her this vision, and making her the mother of so many. She has a huge heart.


On Saturday when we visited, a chief came to visit as well. It was such a cool experience to see the chief, and his personal assistants and umbrella holder, interact with the kids. He donated the land for Countryside and visits at least once a year. That day he ordered a large catered meal for everyone and even brought a DJ for a post-meal dance party. It was off the hook. We got a picture with the chief, and then all of a sudden every adult with a camera phone started taking our pictures too. Papa, paparazzi. We finally left after Mama Emma insisted we eat with them. It was so much fun. Always an adventure at Countryside. 


My boy, Richard







Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The Day I was Mistaken for Delilah, of Night-time Radio


April 15

Point Hope
Over Christmas break, Monica was listening to Delilah and heard her speak about the organization Point Hope that she founded in Ghana. Turns out it is just 5 miles away from us. We decided to adventure today and check it out.
            Unannounced we showed up at the office building, unsure of what to expect. Thankfully, a man was free to explain to us more about the organization.
           1)   Founded 10 years ago by Delilah, in Budumburan Liberian refugee camp. A refugee contacted Delilah through the internet, told her story, explained the living conditions, and Delilah came to help. She wanted to improve the poor living conditions with a special focus for the children.
            2)   Point Hope built 2 water towers to provide free clean water to the refugees. This water has reduced water-born diseases, and provides 38 Liters to each person every day.
            3)   The health and nutrition partners up with St. Gregory’s Catholic Hospital to provide medical services and equipment. They take a particular interest in children, newborn infants, and expecting mothers. We saw the clinic and weighing station of the babies, and met another American who was volunteering there. We were even able to sit in a counseling session for 4 brand-new mothers and their 3 –day old babies. They learned how to provide protection from malaria, what to do if their babies fell sick, and how to keep them well-nourished. He explained to us about the problem of malnourished children at the camp hospital due to illness or poor feeding. He showed us the nutrition bars they give to malnourished kids, and a picture of a severe case of malnourishment that brought tears to my eyes. Another service they provide is baby formula for children of HIV positive mothers.
           4)   Education- they have a nursery Kindergarten (KG) school that we visited. They also provide additional assistance to those older than KG age that attend other schools. While the children are at school, the mothers can take classes that teach cooking, sewing, farming, baking, tie dying, beading, and making soap, giving them a service to find a job. When we opened the gate to the school, about 20 little boys and girls greeted us warmly and enthusiastically. They ran up and help our hands, wrapped themselves around our legs, and laughed and laughed with us. The KG class performed songs and dances for us which was priceless. The littlest ones, who associate all whites with Delilah, jumped up and down shouting “MAMA DELILAH! MAMA DELILAH!” Never in my life did I expect to be confused for Delilah of night-time radio.

We met a fellow American from Wyoming, completing his second round of a two-year program through a Catholic organization. He assists in the special education class. When we visited their class my heart melted. We haven’t seen many kids that are handicapped around here, there are none in our school so it was heart-warming to see these beautiful children learning in school. They were exuberant with joy when they saw us. Their teacher rushed over to us and excitedly showed us the exam they were all preparing for: writing the alphabet. It was precious. They even blew us kisses when we left.

The supervisor at Point Hope handed us pamphlets which describe even more work being done by this organization. Agriculture, poultry farms, fish farms, gardens, and building a model village are all sponsored by Point Hope. Kudos.





An excerpt from the Point Hope Annual Report:


“Point Hope. A Voice for Forgotten Children.”

Who is a forgotten child?

A forgotten child goes to sleep each night without having enough of something:
Food, love, security, attention, medical care, and warmth.

A forgotten child goes to sleep each night without having what they need:
A home… a forever family… a bed… a prayer said for them… a good night kiss from someone who loves them.

A forgotten child gets up every morning:
Unsure of where they will go to sleep that night… Hungry. Thirsty. Unable to afford the expense of school… Putting on the same clothes.. Not knowing who is going to care for them.