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.

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

http://countrysidechildrenshome.webs.com/

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.

https://www.facebook.com/PointHopeOrg

Nyanyano Kakraba A.M.E Zion Basic School

April 14

The first day of vacation actually found us waking up early and going to school. The father of one of my students is the headmaster of a government school, which is still in session this week. We contacted him and he let us stop by to visit, and compare and contrast private schools like Our Lady of Holy Cross, and this public school. It was definitely eye opening.

- The school compound was very large, and dutifully so. The school consists of a nursery building, primary school building, and JHS (Junior High) building. They are also constructing another building at the moment.

-There are many trees to provide shade, and its very spacious so there is plenty of room to play.

- They fit many students in one room. I counted 60 eighth graders crammed into 20 desks, sitting on 20 small benches. And 8^th graders aren’t small.

-There are close to 1000 students enrolled. There isn’t enough space for all of these students, so they go to school in shifts. Half go in the morning from 8-12, and half go from 1-5. I have no idea how the teachers are able to cover all of the material with 60 students and only a half day of school, but they say they are on track. Impressive.

- There is no snack or lunch provided. Students bring their own food, and there are a few street vendors that pay 20 pesawas (about a dime) per day to set up a small table and sell water, juice, crackers, and meat pies.

- Many had never seen a white person up close, and many many many had never heard one speak in person. Even the teachers had a difficult time understanding our accents. Monica talks quickly, and whenever she talked you saw the facial expressions on the teachers turn from happy to confused to bewilderment, all while the kids just cracked up laughing. I would then say the exact same thing Monica tried saying, and students and teachers alike would “oooooh!” in unison of understanding. It was hilarious.

- They have no school fees. The JHS students were preparing to take an exam to qualify for high school while we visited. The teacher was explaining that many may not pass, and many that do pass won’t be able to afford the Senior High School fees, so they won’t go. It was really sad to hear that. He put us in an uncomfortable position by asking us in front of all 60 eighth graders if we would help support them and give out scholarships so they can continue their education. We said we would try; see what we can do. Then a girl in the front row raised her hand, stood up, and boldly asked, “Will you really help us? Or are you just saying you’ll help?”

 …………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The teacher explained, “You white people- you come, snap our photos, snap snap snap, promise us scholarships, and then leave and we never hear from you. Why?”

  …………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

My heart is pulled in so many directions- how can I not help these young brilliant minds further their education? But at this point in my life I have close to zero resources, and only my allegiance to Our Lady of Holy Cross School. I pray that these young men and women find the means to continue their education and grow to be great leaders.

A KG class

8th grade class- I couldn't even fit all 60 students in the picture.

First Communion, First Goodbyes

April 13

Today was finally the day of Julie’s First Communion! I can’t think of a better way to end the trip than with receiving Jesus, especially for the very first time. We got up at 4:30am to prepare ourselves for the day- her confession was to take place here at the convent at 5:45, followed by the procession of palms at 6:30am. However, the priest arrived at 6:35, pushing everything back just a little bit. He took Julie “aside” for confession… about 5-10 yards away from where all the people gathered to start the procession. Monica and I took it upon us to distract everyone by introducing ourselves to random strangers.

            They finished and Father began by blessing the palms. Let me tell you a little bit about Palm Sunday. Since palm trees are abundant here, people come with more than one flimsy leaf. Oh no, they come with branches. All out branches. Branches that can hit you. And then they braid the leaves together and weave colorful flowers into them. They are so extravagant and beautiful! We walked all the way from the convent to the church- about 25 minutes due to a detour. Everyone was waving their branches, while the singers were singing, drummers drumming, dancers dancing, and tambourinists tambourining. It was quite the parade. We eventually made it to the church to start Mass.

            Father gave Julie a blessing during Mass, and then the actual First Communion. It was so joyful!!! Later that afternoon we had a celebration lunch of groundnut soup and rice balls, Julie’s favorite. Megan cooked Matooke, which is a Ugandan food that looks like a very large banana and tastes like a potato. Delicious! We had sparkling juice, cake, and ice cream. FAB. U. LOUS.

            Then came the bitter part of the bittersweet day- the goodbyes. Julie left for the states first, so she was the first to go through the goodbye process. Tears were shed. I am not anticipating the day I leave for the states. We miss her already, now our trio’s down to two. 

Cultural Center and a Trip to the "Beach"

April 12

We took Megan, our SMC friend that is in a program in Uganda that came to visit us for a week, to the cultural center. We bought trinkets and bags and earrings and hand carved bowls. Then Megan and I went to “the beach” met a man, Ebenezer, wearing a polka dot lace mini skirt, and then we left. The pictures show a side of Ghana we hadn't seen up close yet; it was shocking. 

Carving our bowls at the Cultural Center

A small boy playing with the garbage in the water

Farewells

April 10 

Today was “Our Day” which is the last day of the term, set-aside just for the kids. So they call it “theirs”. They brought their teachers an assortment of goodies- biscuits, pop, jewelry, chocolate, and since Basic 2 recently found out their Madams love donuts… plenty of donuts. Julie and I gave out our contact info, glow sticks, and a small photo album for each student. Everyone was running around, so happy and having so much fun, and then we had to say goodbye. Goodbye to the students, goodbye to the teachers. I avoided farewells by tricking myself into thinking that I’m not leaving for 3 more weeks. But who knows when I’ll see these people again.

Bittersweet. (Much more bitter than sweet). 

Glow Stick Party

The Madams

Jollof Rice and Chicken

Palm Wednesday

April 9

They kids had a special “Palm Wednesday” Mass today. They brought in elaborately weaved palm branches (yes, branches, not simly one leaf), decorated with bright flowers. We processed from the top of the hill to the school assembly hall at the bottom, singing and marching. After Mass the teachers had a small going away announcement for us, and gave us gifts of fabric (which we LOVE). We got to sing out favorite songs we taught the kids- Jesus is My Homeboy, and the Jesus Rap.

Happy. Sad. Happy. Sad. Happy. Sad.

Intricate palm weaving

Procession

Farewell speech

Cool kids

Birthday Celebrations

April 6

You are invited to celebrate the birthday of Mr. A!

Location: Sapato Bar

Date: Sunday, 6^th of April

Time: 3pm Africa Time.

AKA, practically 7pm. We arrived at 4 and were still the first ones there. A large portion of the teachers showed up and I tell you what, they sure can dance. I had a front row seat to “So, you think you can dance?” And after 10 seconds of observation I can safely say that no, I don’t think I can dance but yes, indeed, they can. Everyone really enjoyed themselves, and we all had so much fun. It was great to see the teachers outside of school, and to dance like no one’s watching. Good times. Great memories.

April Fool's Day

April 1

Today was April Fool’s Day and every student in the school thought it was so funny to play the “made you look!” game with us. Julie got a little more creative and decided to trick the entire class into thinking they wouldn’t get lunch or snack because the Sisters forgot to pay the food bill and now they won’t bring any. Meanest April Fool’s Joke ever.. some tears were shed.

This week is final exams week. I honestly can’t believe how fast this term has flown by. It’s almost over!!!

A few months ago we decided, for a variety of reasons, that we would leave before 3^rd term started. It was logical to start our job search at home, and easier for Sister Esther to hire someone for an entire term instead coming in for the last half. Ever since Liz took a tumble, I’ve really bonded with the teachers. I’m not ready to say goodbye to the kids or the teachers in just one week’s time. I wish me leaving so early was an April Fool’s joke. 

Girls enjoying our newly donated books

Library Time

Crazy kids

Simple Beauty

March 26

The sunrise the other day was breathtaking. Absolutely. I find it ironic that people pay money to see beautiful things, or travel to far away places, when all they have to do is wake up a little earlier and watch the most beautiful display of colors emerge from the horizon. All natural, every day. And I’ve probably slept through 99% of my life’s worth. Sad.

God is so great. I can’t believe some of the things He created, and how I take them for granted. I don’t stop to admire the beauty He has given us on this earth: sunrises, sunsets, grasshoppers, seashells, butterflies, penguins, orchids, horses, bumblebees, ants, snow capped mountains, rivers, clouds, stars, lakes, puddles.

Beautiful.

If I Only Had a Brain...

March 21

So we had our final competition for sports day. Since the JHS (Junior High School) is being build exactly on top of the our old soccer/track “field” they bulldozed another spot for us to run and play on. Unfortunately it is only about 80 meters long, so for the “200 Meter Dash” the kids had to run down, turn around, and come back. Nothing like braking around a cone to slow down your momentum.

Every single sports day the male teachers in charge say “Its sports day, Liz, wear your PE dress!” So every single sports day I run back to the house to change into shorts and tennies, and every single sports day, I don’t participate in any sports. Until today. I came wearing khaki capris, flats, and a polo, and no one told me to change into my PE dress, so I didn’t. We watched the final House Competition to determine the fastest runners in the school. After the student’s finished the last race, they announced “Now its time for the teacher’s race!” and I looked around to see the participants. The only ones out were the 5 young male teachers under the age of 30, and I thought to myself “Where are all the women?” I took it upon myself to represent them and walked over to the starting line.

Here is a list of things that I did not stop to think about:

      1)   Liz, you’re wearing khakis and flats. You can’t run in khakis and flats.

      2)   Liz, this is a straight up gravel track. You can’t run fast on gravel. Especially in flats

      3)   Liz, just because you ran track doesn’t qualify you as a “natural runner.” The last race you ran was 5 years ago. 

      4)   Liz, you also haven’t exercised for like a year.

      5)   Liz, this is Africa. You are running against 5 young African males. Who do you think wins the Olympics? Africans. They are fast. You are going to humiliate yourself.

Here is a list of things that I did stop to think about:

     1)   I ran track in high school. Sprints are my thing. These teachers won’t know what hit them when a small white girl totally blows them out of the water.

If I only had a brain….

Take your mark. Get Set. Go.

And we were off. I was amazed at how in the first 3 meters someone could so clearly take the lead. Who knew the French teacher was so fast?

          10  meters later.. Hey I’m not last! That has to count for something? Just push it a little more…

          20  meters later.. my shoe came off and Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. It goes without saying that flats are for the cuteness factor only, and are not as versatile as previously thought.

The teachers left me in the dust while they competed for the winning title. The entire student body (yes, I wiped out in front of the whole school) ran onto the track and surrounded me to see if I was okay. I was laughing to cover up my injured  pride, gashed and bloody knee, and scraped forearm. I tore right through my khakis, and Hilda, the 3^rd grade teacher, helped escort me to the nurse.

The nurse was actually amazed at how beat up I got, and kept asking if I was okay. (I was, until I felt the powerful effects of rubbing alcohol cleaning my wounds). After she bandaged me up, I felt like I had to bandage what was left of my pride. I marched back up to the male teachers and respectfully requested a rematch next week. As I walked up to the house to change out of my battle uniform, I remembered numbers 2-5 of “The List of Things I Did Not Stop to Think About” and realized that they are applicable to my race next week. I’m going to humiliate myself twice in one week.

If I only had a brain…