Ira on the Road

Same cover, different book

2010-06-08T08:46:00.000-07:00

First I want to thank you all for following my blog. It made me nervous to start this blog but maintaining it became a nice way to share my insights and release frustrations. As you have likely noticed, I have lagged a bit on posting this last entry. Here it is.

Macchu Pichu did prove to be a great last adventure (prior to the endless last bit of travel). I woke up at 3:30 am and set out with two Mexicans, one Dane, two Dutch women and an Israeli couple. We picked up a solo American on the way to the Inca steps and were on our way. It was HARD!!! We had to leave early in order to get to Macchu Pichu in time for sunrise and to have the opportunity to climb Huayna Pichu (the other mountain you'll see in most Macchu Pichu pics. Stair after stair afters stair, the air got thinner and our need for it grew greater. Our group split up into smaller groups as paces set us apart and I was at the front with the Mexicans, the Dane and my fellow American (he didn't represent well by only bringing a bottle of Coca Cola to drink).

Every time we stopped for a breather with screaming lungs, we would catch our breath quickly, only to lose it again a few steps into the next ascent. In an hour, we had cranked through the hike for which we'd be told to allow ninety minutes. We kept joking with each other that we were killing ourselves at this pace and at such an early time only to earn the right to hike up another mountain!!

The effort was worth it all around. The sunrise took my remaining breath away. I was cold and exhausted but loved every moment I was there. We were allowed into Macchu Pichu at 6am and were greeted my Llamas as they fed on the manicured law terraces. We were given an official tour (my hiking buddies were in the Spanish tour, I in the English) and after getting some history, I was ushered to Huayna Pichu with my two Dutch hiking buddies. Huayna Pichu was shorter but much steeper, soaking me with sweat again and making my lungs scream for the even thinner air. An hour or so of relaxing at 7,000 feet allowed for only a bit of time to explore Macchu Pichu before having to join a bus back to Aguas Calientes and another 7 hours back to Cuzco.

I left Cuzco the following day on a 22 hours bus to Lima where I sat 6 hours in the airport before a 5 hour flight, another 4 hour layover before a 4 hour flight, a 3 hour wait and an 8 hour drive from LA to SF. About 48 hours of travel later, I was home!!!

Now that I am home, I can't help but notice what has stayed with me. I still love every hot shower, every cold drink and every comfortable night in my own bed. I have seen a pair of women making out at a Giants game, a man screaming/preaching about his 57,000,000,000 sons named Revenge until the police took him off the bus. I have had many burritos and watched many baseball games. I am poor in dollars but rich in experience, two truths that are not always evident from the outside. Dipping into my closet of dress shirts and slacks has me wearing clean clothes every day. I blend in on public transportation like I did before I left. I can't help but think how many other people I pass on the street or sit next to on the bus may have similar life altering experiences hidden away.

The observations and insights that I love to share on this blog have not made me any more talkative in person. The experience is inside, in pictures and in my blog entries but when asked "What was it like?" or "What was your favorite part?" I tend to draw a blank. There is SO much that I can't call upon on a whim that will have to come up throughout the upcoming years. I look forward to trolling over these blog entries for the first time as a way to remind me of what I've done. I have done my best to stay in the moment, enjoying each day and leaving the next day open.

One great way to work my way back into American culture has been working at Sunset Cooperative Nursery School. Whether they are slung across their mother's back or transfered from expensive crib to carseat to stroller, 2, 3 and 4 year old kids are fun and brutally honest around the world. I also got to share in my Mom's 60th birthday celebration, enjoying an experience that rivaled any from my trip.

I may write another entry or two as I get used to being back home. I am still not used to being in American culture but I am really enjoying it. I will definitely add many pictures. I am having a hard time with them at the moment.

Love to all!

What comes next?

2010-05-22T08:20:00.000-07:00

In a few short days, I will be boarding a flight from Lima to Los Angeles via Mexico City. My sisters Megan and Martha will pick me up at LAX and the three of us will share the last leg of my journey. To ensure that the journey comes full circle, we will make at least one stop at In 'n Out burger as we did when the three of us went to SFO on August 15, 2007.

For now, I am enjoying the thin air of beautiful Cuzco. I spent my first night here at Loki Backpackers Hostel, a place recommended by a guide book. This place is pretty wild! If one wants to feel as though they are back in college and not in a Spanish speaking country, this is the place. The first night had pub trivia, one of my favorite ways to combine beer and brains. The next morning, I thought I would save a bit of money and energy by moving down the road to a cheaper, slower paced hostel.

Though Loki is as touristy as can be, it has the best assortment of volunteer opportunities of any hostel I´ve come across so far. Though not staying there, I was able to sign up for a day of manual labor in the sacred valley. Many people pay for tours of this valley, I paid for transport and to lug adobe bricks onto and off of a truck. Last year, hundreds of families lost their homes and livelihoods when Cuzco was ravaged by a flood. I am embarrassed to say that I didn´t make the connection between Macchu Picchu´s flood based closure to flooding around the area.

Eight volunteers signed up for the day and we took a ninety minute ride into the beautiful sacred valley. We were told that we would be helping to build a guinea pig enclosure as a way to offer income generating activities to the community. We didn´t know that the bricks were at least 30 lbs. each and we would fill and empty a large flatbed truck three times. I was one of four men to volunteer and two of the others suffer from lower back troubles. Taking one for the team, I was either standing behind the truck, holding bricks at shoulder height for people to easily load the truck or I was on the truck, bent over, receiving the bricks and stacking them in place. At least 800 bricks later, we were all dust covered and exhausted. My lower back muscles and hamstrings are still screaming at me but also letting my know that I was using muscles rather than vertebrae for the work.

Yesterday, I volunteered again, this time at a school for disadvantaged children. I was the only volunteer this time (late nights and early morning volunteering don´t always agree) and joined the two volunteer coordinators. We went to the greatest playground I have ever seen and I was immediately paired up with a little gordito. The playground was equiped with several slides of at least 50 feet, mini-carousels, swings, a trampoline and more. My little guy Fabricio was all about the slide so I spent much of the time climbing stairs and pulling myself down the slide (jeans and a little guy on the lap didn´t allow for fast sliding). Fabricio spent at least thirty minutes longer with his lunch and only got a few minutes of kneeling on the trampoline before the day was over. He had a huge smile on his face when slowly sliding and while kneeling on the trampoline so I felt like a successful play partner.

When I got back from volunteering, I had an e-mail from my waitlist manager at Michigan. Her message said that she tried calling me earlier in the week but couldn´t get through so could I please e-mail her back so we could talk about a few things.

Two days prior, about twenty people posted messages to an MBA board about being admitted off the waitlist at Ross (the name of Michigan´s business school). I was confident about my chances but after getting no news felt sure that I was out of luck.

Having a San Francisco phone number as my contact information definitely didn´t help matters but after three pay phone calls and a few e-mails I was able to get in touch with the member of admissions. After ten minutes of answering questions about why I want to attend Ross, where it stands on my list of prospective schools and other questions similar to those I answered during my Mumbai interview, I was invited to join the class of 2012. I happily accepted and will be headed to Ann Arbor this fall. What a relief after applying from the road, piecing together my application and speculating endlessly, I am in!! I withdrew from Duke´s waitlist and now will head home with the next chapter sorted. Tomorrow, I will head up to Macchu Picchu!

Love to all!

Time running out but feeling long

2010-05-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

I am feeling back to my normal self again and have been thoroughly enjoying Peru. For five dollars a night, I have had my own room with a hot shower and cable TV. Most of the television is in spanish but I have managed to catch some NBA playoffs, great tennis and a baseball game.

It may sound as though I am spending a lot of time watching TV. I am spending much more time in front of the TV than I have in the last two and a half years but not too much. However, I do feel that it is more of a chore filling my days.

Arequipa and Puno (where I am now) have been great but unless I want to break the bank for ice axes and crampons, I will not be doing any hiking in the area. Arequipa is surrounded by several 6,000 meter peaks, offering a gorgeous backdrop in most directions. Puno is right on Lake Titicaca, a lake that sticks out in my mind for immature young boy reasons. Some touristy island trips are available here but I think that I will pass. There are cultures on various islands that survive predominantly on tourist dollars by keeping themselves from developing. One island survived the Incas and other warring neighbors by building everything out of the buoyant reeds in the area. Now, they still make everything out of reeds in order to draw tourists. I am sure there are beautiful crafts and homes but I will pass this time around.

I will head to Cuzco in two days I think. I have really enjoyed walking around Puno, admiring the Quechua women and adorable kids. I have been here for two full days and each day, I stumbled upon a street market and a cement soccer match. Saturday reminded me of beer league softball in the states as two teams of men in their 40s, 50s and 60s donned full uniforms and brought full competitive spirit to an outdoor basketball court. I helped a tourism student with his english while enjoying the matches.

Today presented a pair of matches made up of more youthful teams. Old men sat in the stands with beers and a cute young girl gnawed on what appeared to be a pig hip-bone next to me. I get stared at more than talked to but I am enjoying myself.

It is strange how I seek out the less touristy areas but miss company when I arrive. Cuzco is sure to provide company and incredible sites. I am looking forward to it!!

Love to all!

Happy Mother´s Day

2010-05-09T15:06:00.000-07:00

I emailed my mom yesterday thinking (and hoping) that I wouldn´t have internet access today. Since I am here, I can with another Happy Mother´s Day to my mom and to every other mom reading.

I got to San Pedro de Atacama with the hope of seeing salt flats and getting back in the travel groove. I did both and was only dissatisfied with the salt flats. My first full day, I started by wandering out the front door of the hostel, expecting to get a lay of the land and avoid organized tours. 5 hours later, I returned with a pretty good sunburn, about 7 miles on the internal odometer and some tired legs. I ended up walking to an archeological site, visiting ruins from an old military settlement that was destroyed over 500 years ago. The ruins were interesting but the view was what made it. San Pedro de Atacama, as I mentioned, is in the driest desert in the world. 3 days prior to my arrival, the town got a deluge of rain, dusting the surrounding mountains and volcanoes with snow. The site had two paths, one giving a gorgeous view of the mountains, the other giving a breathtaking view of death valley (named due to mistranslation rather than any real death, it was supposed to be earth valley to match the nearby Valle de la Luna) with visible layers of ash, salt and rock from millions of years back.

When I got back from my hike, I kept with my original plan to join a tour (can´t avoid them all) to the Valle de la Luna for sunset. The tour took our group to view death valley from the side opposite where I had already been. We went from there to another viewpoint, this one with what the guide called a Wile e Coyote rock. The overhanging rock offered maybe a thirty foot drop but was laid in front of a valley hundreds of feet below, offering frightening but not terribly unsafe photo ops.

Our next stop was to an intimidating enclave where we sat in silence as the sun started to go down. The hollow salt structures around us began to ping and crack as they cooled, offering a bizarre but enchanting sound.

We stopped briefly at Tres Marias, a trio of natural stone pillars. We only got to see two unfortnately because a French tourist toppled the third after climbing it for a photo opp.

The final stop was Valle de la Luna where we had to trek up maybe 200 yard of sand dune before gaining the proper point of view. Many tour groups were assembled (apparently far fewer than during peak season) which took some of the wonder out of it but still offered amazing views.

The next morning, I literally followed my gut and joined an 11 hour bus south to Salta, Argentina. I wanted steak and wine and was too close to pass it up. If you look at a map, you will see that I have taken a rather circuitous route through the region but I am enjoying myself and seeing some great places.

Within an couple hours of disembarking, I led three Dutch travelers on an epic steak hunt. We walked back and forth before landing at a pricey but promising steak spot. At ten dollars, the steak was more than I expected but I had come a long way and would not be denied. I housed my 1.2 lb steak, enjoying a nice Cabernet alongside. To my dismay, two of my tablemates left huge portions behind. I talked during the meal about how great it would be to have steak for breakfast and lunch. When we were outside, I realized that they had not gotten takeaway containers and upon commenting was told that only Americans get doggies bags. Now I have not been able to defend all statements starting with "only Americans," but this was a different story.

I had steak the next night, washed it down with local tap water after asking for guidance and I spent the next twenty four hours in a serious disagreement with my stomach. Sleeping and sweating throughout. My fever got up to 103 and dropped to 97 so I feared Malaria. The following day, after some magical cipro, I was out of the woods and was even able to get a nice hike in. Slightly strenuous, the exercise and fresh air seemed to be just what I needed.

After the hike, I sorted out my bus ticket for this morning, bought some provisions for my 24 hour bus ride and managed to get to sleep as the rest of the hostel was going out to the bars. My alarm woke my just ten minutes after the last bar straggler and I made my 7am bus easily. 12 hours later, finally having conked out into deep sleep, I was woken up on Calama where I now sit with two more hours to kill before my connecting bus leaves for Arica. In my feverish stupor, I left my toiletry bag on the bus, adding to the string of good travel with bad peripherals.

Happy Mother´s Day once again!!

Love to all.

Back on track

2010-05-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

I am now in San Pedro de Atacama and rather than having to choose between reading and checking baseball scores or studying Spanish, I get to choose among salt flats, the moon valley, geysers and flamingos. Much more like it!

The ride from Antofagasta was beautiful and comfortable. Unfortunately, it was marred when the driver slammed on the brakes, causing an elderly man to fall and earn a gash on his head. I was quick with first aid equipment (I have carried it this whole time with no real need) but gauze and alcohol pads were not nearly enough and we ended up dropping him and his family at a hospital with a blood soaked shirt pressed to his calm, bald head.

Passing through the Atacama desert (the driest in the world) was consistently beautiful, getting moreso as we approached San Pedro de Atacama. Being around fellow travelers who speak english makes me very happy!! I can cook for myself and see the beauty of Chile rather than staying in a seedy rundown hostel in the city, surrounded by bars and strip clubs. Much better!!

Love to all (even the guy who stole my ipod, I had a good run with it)

Solamente con dos completos y sin un ipod

2010-05-02T13:54:00.000-07:00

I´m not sure if that title actually makes sense in Spanish. What I do know is that my ipod was stolen from within a foot of me within the last hour and it feels awful. I´ll get to that

My first two nights in Santiago were nice if a bit off due to jetlag. My second night was spent with a pair of girls who contacted me through couchsurfing.com. We sat, drank pisco (a local liquor) and chatted, trading stories about travel and asking questions about culture etc.

Feeling the rush of my schedule, I left and decided rather than head into Argentina with some of the folks I met at the hostel, I would work my way north to ensure that I gave Chile its due. Not much to see so far. I spent two nights in La Serena. The town was beautiful with 27 churches in a relatively small area. It was cold and I was one of a few tourists. I rested, read in the town center and caught up on rest.

I am now in Antofagasta for my third day. It´s the fourth largest city in Chile and up until the theft of my ipod has been pretty nice. I´ve spent a huge amount of time at the internet, watching baseball games and checking if my business school status has changed (it hasn´t). In La Serena and in Antofagasta, I have remained sated by eating completos pretty often. A completo is a hot dog covered in diced tomatoes and avocado and it´s cheap and very tasty. It may not be the healthiest of options but I know how to order it, I can afford it and I love the taste.

It has been a bit lonely traveling solo through towns without many tourists. My spanish is certainly improving but not enough to even explain that my ipod was taken. I guess I should explain that bit now.

The ipod that I´ve had throughout Peace Corps and through my travels around the world is now gone. I was charging it at my computer but saw that the computer was very slow. I unplugged it and plugged it into the computer next to me. I admit that I wasn´t paying close attention but it was within one foot of my hand. The only person to use the computer was a child of around ten years old. He was playing computer games and when he got up to leave, he asked me if the headphones next to his keyboard were mine. The headphones yes, the ipod and cord, gone. What an awful feeling!! BAH!!

From here, I will travel to San Pedro de Atacama where I can see the salt flats. The more famous salt flats are just across the border in Bolivia but rather than pay the 135 dollar reciprocity fee, I will see those that I´ve already paid for. From northern Chile I will head into Peru. I have looked into WWOOFing with the hope of working on organic farms. I haven´t gotten a reply. There is a registration fee but after registering in India and getting no response, I thought I would try the other way around.

Now I´ll watch the rest of the Giants game unfold and think of how to release the anger about my ipod. This has been my sole companion of late with games, spanish lessons and 13,000 songs that I compiled along my travels. Awful.

Love to all (except for whomever stole my ipod)

Ira

One hour later, 14,750 feet higher

2010-04-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

Tan and relaxed, Cheri and I met up in the Auckland airport and soon after were headed to the home of her old camp friend Matt. We dropped off our things and went out for dinner at a nice pub. I felt right at home at a table of folks in their early thirties chatting about work while enjoying some nice microbrews. The baby steps continue from West African culture towards the American culture I´ll tackle in just over a month. Having heard so much about camp throughout our relationship, it was nice to see Cheri in her element with a fellow camp counselors.

On our first full day in New Zealand, Cheri and I took a bus to Lake Taupo. Rather than hitchiking as everyone had suggested, we used the transport as a means of relaxation in addition to transportation. Once in Taupo, we sorted ourselves out in hostel, loaded up on groceries and wandered a bit.

In order to get a deal on bungee jumping the next day, we had to get our jump done before 11am. As we were booking, we discussed the idea of sky diving as well and were told that we had better get the sky dive in ASAP if we wanted to be clear of potential weather obstacles. Instead of rushing off to jump off an eithty meter high platform, we had an hour to kill before being picked up to jump 15,000 feet out of an airplane!!

Though nervous, I was more excited than anything as the time approached. We suited up, met our tandem guides and were soon on a small plane, climbing quickly and being updated on elevation. When the time came, three other sky divers were led through the plane door before my tandem guy and I slid across the bench and to the door. I tucked my legs below the plane, grabbed my harness and leaned my head back on his shoulder. A minute later, we were spinning our way down with the suppport of a nice, fully functioning parachute. My face and hands were freezing but otherwise I was pretty unimpressed. I was definitely nervous as I approached the open door of the plane but after that, I was falling, a stabilizing chute went out and then the main chute went out. I didn´t have to think or act and because of this, the experience flew by.

The next day, we made our early jump time at the bungee site. Once checked in, we decided to watch a few people jump before taking the plunge ourselves. When we got to the viewing platform, a man was ready to jump. At least ten minutes later, the same man had his hands pried from the handrails and was led away from the jump area. He couldn´t do it and his father (standing next to us filming) wasn´t going to let him live it down. We watched a young woman jump and we joined the line.

Cheri went first and after asking about doing flips and swan dives, was told that simply tipping over the edge is the best for your first jump. You get a better free fall and will be in better control. Cheri had a good scream and was totally soaked in the river. I was mostly calm up until my turn to walk to the ledge. Three people checked on the bungee and harness before giving the OK (nice and thorough) and then I walked to the edge with a heavy cord hanging from feet that were restricted as though my shoes had been tied together. 1, 2, 3 Bungee was all I needed to tip forward, spread my arms back and fall. Though I gave the OK for a river dip, only an inch of my hair got wet. The highest peak of adrenaline over these two days was hands down the moment I decided to leave the platform. Some bungee employees broke it down by saying that 15,000 feet is totally surreal and the mind can´t comprehend what´s happening. 250 feet over a river is well within our grasp and our mind and body know that we should NOT fall from that height. I loved it!!

Cheri and I spent the rest of the day hiking around, sitting in thermal springs and swimming in ice cold, crystal clear water. We visited Huka falls and ate some apples and blackberries we found along the way.

Around the time we were bungee jumping and skydiving, I also had a deadline for graduate school and had to say an indefinite goodbye to Cheri. What struck me was how much more my body reacted to checking my waitlist status (still there) and saying goodbyes at Auckland airport (BOOO!!!!) than it did during either adventure sport. My guts get tangled and just stay that way as no answer is near or clear at the moment. Jumping out of a plane is easy to get psyched up for and fun to come down from. I guess it can be said that the reaction I have to these points in life suggest that I´m taking risks in life and putting myself out there. Hard but true.

Now I´m in Santiago. After a 10 plus hour flight, I landed four hours earlier than I left Auckland. I´m staying up until a reasonable time with hopes of getting my body back on track. A whole new adventure is coming but I´m going to take a day or two before rushing into it.

Love to all

Kindness goes a long way

2010-04-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

When waiting in line at the US Embassy in Singapore, Cheri and I heard as several people in our same predicament were turned away and told to return the following day. Our visit to Indonesia had completely filled our respective passports and we were scheduled to fly to Australia the following day. We were called at 3pm, laid out the situation for the friendly embassy woman and we were told to come back in thirty minutes to receive our passports complete with extra pages. Thirty minutes rather than a full day? Not bad!

In Australia, Cheri and I rented a campervan. We drove to Byron Bay, hiked a surprisingly grueling Mt. Warning and enjoyed beach time and blending in. For the first time in months, we could walk down the street without drawing too much attention. We did get a few looks when be broke out shampoo, body wash and towels when using the showers at the beach. Though we could cook for ourselves, sleep when we wanted and go where we wanted, getting clean in the campervan required ingenuity. When returning the campervan, we broke the 10 hour drive into two parts. We got going early on the second day, went to a few "urban Koala sites" with no luck. The only stereotypically Australian animals we managed to see were a roadkill Kangaroo and a caged Koala. Too bad. After failing to spot Koala's we were on our way to Sydney again. Time was ticking away as traffic thickened and it seemed that we'd miss our deadline for returning the campervan. We called while in traffic, filled the tank, washed the van, packed up and got to the site twenty minutes late. Because we'd called and been friendly, we were allowed to stay late, clean up and avoid any late fees. We had seriously worried as the van involved a bit of financial splurging to begin with. Paying for an extra day for only twenty minutes' use sounded awful.

Now that we're in Fiji, it seems as though we're benefiting from kindness Karma. Everybody here is so frienly and inviting. We spent a few days in paradise on Mana Island. We enjoyed Kava (a local drink) and local singing, dancing and cooking while celebrating Cheri's 26th and our 2 1/2 year anniversary.

Tomorrow we fly to New Zealand where I hope to be able to upload some pictures of this gorgeous place. Unfortunately, our visit to Fiji coincided withe the Fiji Peace Corps close of service conference so again we missed out on seeing Peace Corps villages.

Maybe in Chile or Peru?

Love to all.

Living in a van

2010-04-11T18:05:00.000-07:00

Meeting people along the path of our travels has really helped out of late. We were able to crash with Brett and Bonnie (met in Ghana) in Singapore, a couple from our Bollywood days in Sydney and a girl Laura whom I met in Budapest, also in Syndey. Being able to get a local view and a few homecooked meals along the way has been a real treat. Cutting costs in these expensive cities has also been a help.

Since Syndey, Cheri and I have been living in a hi-top camper van. We've driven ten hours to Byron Bay and have been cooking and sleeping in the van. We've actually gotten better sleep these past few days than we have in ages. Two couches in the back fold out into a firm double bed. We've been able to grocery shop and use the mini-fridge and propane stove for food. We're more free than we've been in a long time and no longer have to rush to catch long buses or worry about much of a timetable.

We'll be in Byron Bay until heading back through Sydney and on to Fiji. I can't believe we're going to Fiji!! I wrote a paper about Fiji back in 7th grade and have always thought it to be somewhat of a mythical place. We have been in touch with a few Peace Corps volunteers there and hope to get to see the village life there.

I'll update soon. For now, we're ducking away from a short rain storm before heading to the beach.

Love to all.

Mentawai

2010-03-31T02:44:00.000-07:00

If you told me three days that I would take an uncomfortable overnight boat to a sketchy powerboat to a remote island where I'd get pounded by waves, cut my feet on reef and bow out after less than an hour. And if you told me that I would leave a few hours later to take the same powerboat to the same overnight boat and be completely satisfied by the experience, I may not believe it.

The Mentawai Islands are like surf Mecca to many. I didn't know this and when looking through guide books and on the internet, few specific places were mentioned. I had endured enough tourist swamped locations and didn't want to go to Bali so I went to the Mentawai Islands from Padang.

Shortly after disembarking, I called over two fellows with surfboards slung over their shoulders. They agreed to split the cost of the speedboat charter. After a small breakfast and some coffee, we were off. The pair of British guys had been traveling through Indonesia from surfspot to surfspot for 4 months and had 3 weeks left. One of them has been doing this for 5 years straight and is only 22 years old. I warned them that I was no good at surfing and that I could only stay one night. They picked up supplies for a week as there are no shops or markets on Nyangnyang where we were headed. An hour and a great downpour later, the boat was filled with groceries and we were on our way. Rain and sea spray soaked us within minutes but the narrow mangrove forrest route we took was worth it. A few close calls with other boats and dug-out canoes kept it exciting as we gradually made it to open water. We passed seaside homes and fishing boats and after just over an hour, we made it.

We offloaded the boat and instantly met a few other surfers who told us that the conditions were the worst they'd seen in their three weeks on the island. They planned to stay through September if possible.

After deliberating over which of the many surfspots to venture towards, we chose the closest. A twenty minute walk took us to the spot and it was time to paddle out. I have some experience on small waves on a buoyant and forgiving longboard leading to a soft beach break. This day, I was on a borrowed 6'6" board on large, powerful waves and ruthless reef break. A few strokes into paddling out I knew I was WAY out of my league. The four guys I was with took off with ease, powering along with the well formed back muscles they'd been using day in and day out. I quickly fell behind and after the 200 or so meters of paddling it took to go around the reef, I was already exhausted.

I took a breather and got a feel for where the waves were breaking but I was still quite gunshy. The guys around me were off and running, each with their share of good rides and wipeouts. I missed a few waves before finally getting the timing right but the ability all wrong and I got tossed. In the tumult, I lost hold of my board and re-surfaced to a scared and appropriately upset fellow surfer who'd almost been skewered by my board. Duck diving waves on the way back out, I was getting more and more fatigued and after not too long I called it in for the sake of everyone involved. I sat and enjoyed watching the others surf, getting no grief from them when the came in.

"They were terrible conditions, awful for learning. Like learning to ski on moguls."

"You're a legend for even making the effort to come for a day, I've been in Indo for 5 years and just made it."

Kind words even though I felt defeated. This is a place worth working up to. Take a look for yourselves. A video of a fellow UCSB Gaucho and his brothers. The conditions in the video are much better than when I was there but either way, I was way out of my element.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDG0PjCWyrE

Looking back

2010-03-28T21:44:00.000-07:00

I can only give a brief entry on the time spent in Vietnam but want to do so before it's too far in the past. A 30 hour "sleeper" bus brought us from Vang Vient go Hanoi. The sleeper consisted of an overcrowded bus with reclining seats that had foot cubbyholes. My feet only fit in the cubbyholes at certain angles and I was too tall for the seat but it was manageable.

I loved Hanoi instantly. Cheri and I decided not to go with the hawkers who boarded the bus immediately upon arrival. Instead, we wandered the street to find food and took a taxi to a hotel. We paid a bit more but got a better feel of the place.

The next morning, we took a bus to a boat to Ha Long Bay. The first stop made me nauseous. The geologically awesome cave filled with stalagmites and stalactites was turned into Disneyland Vietnam. We waited in line after line in order to work our way around crowds of people posing for photos, climbing over barriers and pushing through to get as many pictures of the purple and pink lighted cave.

It could only get better and it certainly did. A bit more time on the boat showed us the gorgeous landscape of jutting islands in calm water. Boatmen sold goods like you'd expect street hawkers to do. Boats filled with chips, drinks and fruit.

We were dropped off and because we were piecing our trip together, we didn't stay in the tour affiliated hotel. Instead, we paid 5 dollars between us for an ocean view, third floor room with a hot shower!!! So nice!!

We left Ha Long Bay to meet up with a couchsurfing connection. Not knowing what to expect, we were pleased to meet a Vietnamese business owner and her British NGO executive husband. We were treated well, got to relax and discussed our goals. On our last full day in Vietnam (much too short a trip) we aimed to go to a national park. I thought that we were spending too much time "doing things." I couldn't put it better but felt that Following tour books every day was keeping us from seeing the places we were visiting. Instead, we wandered around Hanoi and felt great. Aimless and care free how I like it.

Unfortunately, my ATM card was lost somewhere in Vietnam so I've been working to fix that situation. My saviors in Singapore helped me by using their address as my new mailing address and lending me cash for my Indonesia leg. Yesterday, however, I had only foreign currency on a Sunday. I had to use my passport as collateral at a hotel and wandered the HOT and HUMID Padang city hungry and useless. Today, a friendly bank assistant took me around on his moto, being sure to show me some of the destruction from last September's Earthquake. There are huge splits in the asphalt and destroyed buildings all around the city. A bit out of the loop regarding world news, I only remembered there being the huge earthquake in 2007. The language barrier kept me from learning too much before visiting Google this morning.

Now I hope to get a day on the Mentawai islands. I will try to surf if it's not too far out of my ability level.

Love to all!!

Hmm

2010-03-27T07:12:00.000-07:00

I am now in Padang, on Sumatra in Indonesia. It is dumping rain and the local transport (small van with colored lights and blaring music) dropped me off where I asked but now it doesn't seem to be where I want to be. I feel safe though tired. There haven't been too many days like this. Starting this long travel journey, I expected there to be more days with no proper communication, bad weather, exhaustion and confusion. Here it is!!

Just looking at March Madness and baseball news while the weather subsides.

Love to all.

A changed man

2010-03-24T05:51:00.000-07:00

After romping with Tigers and Elephants, riding a bamboo raft and visiting hill tribes, Megan, Cheri and I headed into Laos.

Before crossing the border, we met a fun couple that shared our path. A French woman and American man, the pair met while in Australia over a year ago and have traveled together on and off since.

An overnight bus took us to Luang Prabang, a nice slow, relaxing place in Laos. Megan only had a few hours before she had to head to the airport (an overnight bus and a new Visa just to catch a flight due to a change in plans) so Cheri and I teamed up with the other couple.

On our first full day together, the four of us hired a tuk tuk and traveled to some nearby waterfalls. You may think the same thing that I did... more waterfalls? Somehow they just don't get old. This set-up was one in which we got to see the Laos countryside before visiting a bear refuge and finally visiting a series of waterfalls. Hours of hiking, sweating and feeling disappointed finally found us at a sign that read "Do not swimming." So we went ahead and checked it out.

This place may have been the inspiration for the infinity pool. Waterfalls ranging from four feet to well over forty feet fed into a surprisingly calm pool perfect for swimming. The edge of this pool led to a drop of nearly ten stories but the water was shallow enough to allow one to walk up and look over the edge the the waterfall below.

A few days later, in Vang Vieng, Cheri and I joined the couple for a day of rock climbing. Having climbed man made climbing walls only a few times in my life, I was by far the least experienced of our group. I learned a great deal but relied too much on upper body strength and was totally drained for the last two climbs. Feeling the wonderful fatigue of a day well spent, we cooled off by taking a huge zip line into the nearby river.

The following day, we all did was most travelers in Vang Vieng choose to do. We went "tubing." We had heard that the water level was too low to actually need a tube so we took advantage of free shots and plenty of hugs swings and zip lines into the river. A few years ago, I think that I may have been more interested in the free shots than the activities but the adrenaline was enough of a buzz for me. St. Patricks Day was the following day and sticking to our budget, Cheri and I went bar hopping in a way that allowed a free drink at each bar. Maybe I'm old or maybe I'm more comfortable with myself but I was ready to call it in early rather than wait for the sun to chase me to bed.

I still need to update my time in Vietnam. This will teach me to procrastinate while traveling. More to come.

Love to all. I'm in Singapore again before heading to Indonesia solo tomorrow. Enjoy March Madness!!!

A quick one

2010-03-15T20:15:00.000-07:00

Internet is crazy expensive here in Vang Vieng, Laos. The town is full of people aiming to get drunk and float down a river on inner tubes (but the river is too low so they walk). Instead, Cheri and I did some great rock climbing yesterday with another couple we met during our travels. It was an exhausting but excellent day.

Much of this region is based around the Mekong but due to Chinese dams, the river is incredibly low. Slow boats that are a hit with tourists are not running and drunk tubers become drunk walkers.

I will update more when I have cheaper internet access.

In the B-school world, no decisions will be made until waitlist situations are sorted out. The wait continues.

Love to all.

Not a bad way to wait

2010-03-08T02:54:00.000-08:00

With business school responses slowly approaching, I have managed to fill my days to the brim, keeping my mind at bay as much as possible.

Thanks to forethought and planning my Cheri's sister Carrie, four of us (two sib pairs) woke early after a day of temples, markets and relaxing at a 5 star hotel (feels like 95 stars after backpacking and Ghana).

Our tour guide Tong approached with more energy than the four of us combined and had me thinking that the day might be too much. We were briefed on the plan for the day and Tong repeatedly told us that if we were to get the most out of the day, we would have to follow her lead without question. We started with a visit to a local Bangkok market that stretches across train tracks. Each stall has tables on wheels to make for easy and quick motion when the train comes. We say pig tails, fish sauce, blue crabs and many other things for sale but didn't have much time to linger as there was more to do.

Our next stop was the floating market. Touristy but beautiful, we floated in a long boat among other boats full of tourists. We ate great Thai noodles, drank iced coffee from a bag and admired the merchants when not haggling for goods. We shopped a bit but had to keep moving if we were to arrive at the Tiger temple at the ideal time.

A bit more than an hour in the car and we arrived at the Tiger temple. Tong dispelled rumors of Tiger drugging but agreed with criticisms of the overall layout of the temple. The Tigers are well taken care of but live in an environment far different from their natural habitat. After getting the run down, it was time to "get happy." at the gender appropriate restroom and get ready to see some tigers. Though many other tourists were milling around the entrance, our group of four was the first to enter. We were the first to be signed up to feed baby tigers and we were the first to take photos with the big tigers.

The experience was above and beyond my hopes. I first heard of the Tiger temple five years ago when a college friend had the experience. I thought that it would be closed before I had the opportunity so when I was kneeling behind 500 lb tigers nad feeding a 4 month old out of a baby bottle, I was elated. We started by walking up behind full grown tigers and having photos taken. We did this for a bit and as our adrenaline started to slow a bit, it was time to feed the babies. We went into a caged in play area of maybe 25' x 20' with three baby tigers, three workers and the four of us. We were told that we should never turn our backs on the tigers but once in there, I followed a cute 2 month old, trying to get her to play with me. Almost immediately, the vivacious 4 month old leapt onto my back, ripping my shirt and instantly proving herself my favorite. We spent nearly an hour playing with the tigers (not dissimilar to playing with big, bumbling puppies) before we got to settle down and feed them. Paws the size of small fists rested on our laps as the playful tiger cubs settled down into feeding mode. It was a great experience to share with Megan as she and I fed the fun 4 month old.

We took a few more photos with full grown tigers before rushing off to ride elephants. Seriously, we went from feeding baby tigers to riding bareback on large Asian elephants. Tong handed us each bundles of bananas and told us to bribe our elephants before our ride. We could put the bananas (one at a time or in bunches) in the end of the trunk or directly on the huge slimy tongue. We fed each of our two elephants around fifty bananas apiece before climbing aboard. Tong warned us that we would be brought into the water and shaken off by the playful performers. If we didn't fight to stay on, the elephants might think that they were doing a bad job and be sad. When we got into the water, sitting on the bare back of a beautiful beast, the shaking did not start. Our elephant simply knelt down with her head below water. It was hard enough to hold on at such an extreme angle while laughing as Carrie and Cheri were sprayed repeatedly by their elephant. The next hour exhausted us all as we climbed aboard and were summarily launched into mud and dung filled water. We could hang onto ears, handfuls of skin or anything else we could grasp but seldom were we able to hang on for long. On our way back to Bangkok, we discussed our arrogance in thinking that we could possibly hang on when the elephant really wanted us off. The weight disparity is roughly that of a newborn baby to a man my size. While I would never throw a newborn baby into a lake full of elephant dung, I know that if I really, really wanted to, I could do it.

Exhausted, we finished our tour walking along the bridge over the river Kwai. The bridge and the history that surrounds it gave a new perspective on the region to say the least. We spent only a brief time at the railroad bridge before settling in at our riverside guesthouse and getting hour long Thai massages.

The following day, we hiked to seven water falls at Erawan falls. Monkeys played on branches above us and fish ate the dead skin off of our toes when we went for the occasional dip (no need to pay at the spa). The views were gorgeous and the water felt good on our tired, aching muscles.

Carrie has since gone back to the states while Cheri, Megan and I have traveled (by 17 hour train) to Chiang Mai. We trekked to see hill tribes, swim in water falls, take a bamboo raft trip and ride elephants again. I had the joy of being nuzzled by a 5 month old elephant baby this morning. Hoping to get a good photo, I walked closer that initially felt comfortable with a mother so close. After some time, the baby turned and walked a a fairly fast pace right up to me and rubbed against my leg like a 220 lb. kitten. Oddly, when planning the trek, we discussed the fact that we had alrady ridden elephants and seen water falls. Neither seem to get old, I must say. I love today. Now I have a matter of hour to wait before hearing form b-schools. We shall see what happens but the wait has been easier on elephant back than it ever would have been in a cubicle. I am thankful for that.

Love to all.

Under water to on a train

2010-02-28T23:11:00.000-08:00

My five days on Perhentian Island were much needed and very much enjoyed. After cranking through the scuba course, I took a day to walk to to a gorgeous beach. Having seen the beach from one of my dives, I thought that the walk would be easy. Over an hour of climbing rocks in my sandals in the mid-day sun proved otherwise but left me on a white sand beach all on my own. Soaked in sweat, I read in the shade and enjoyed the solitude and rest, taking occasional dips in the clear blue water.

Too tired to take the rock route back, I walked through the jungle, dodging massive spiders but making much better time with a nice cover of shade. On my last day on the Perhentians, I took a snorkeling trip. The first stop had us swimming with Black Tipped Reef Sharks. Our second stop had us swimming among thousands of brightly colored fish. Our guide would give us a small nibble of bread and in minutes it would be ripped apart by out tiny swimming companions. Our third stop was all about sea turtles. It wasn't quite the same as the others however. The water wasn't as clear and the turtles were FAST. The boat would circle around until a turtle was spotted and tourists from three tour boats would jump in and give chase. One chase was enough for me and I stayed in the boat to keep my pinched feet out of my too tight fins. Stop four brought us to a light house. We took turns jumping 35 feet from the top into the ripping current below. The spot was beautiful but it took serious energy just to swim in place. One jump from the lighthouse pulled my bauxite bracelet from my wrist and sent it to the coral below. The Arabian Sea stole my ring and the South China Sea has my bracelet. The experience is worth the trade but it's still a bummer.

A boat to a bus to another bus to a 22 hour train to a took took brought me to the super fancy hotel at which I'm writing this entry. A hung out for a few hours before Megan arrived. We've had a great time wandering and enjoying an early celebration of her birthday. We are sorting out plans for the rest of the day and the days to come. We will meet Cheri and her sister tomorrow and then go to bathe tigers and ride elephants shortly thereafter. Sharks, sea turtles, tigers and elephants are helping me stay pre-occupied as my business school dates approach. One and two weeks from response deadlines from Duke and Michigan respectively. Eek!!

Love to all.

Changing gears

2010-02-23T15:40:00.000-08:00

I left India with a wide variety of new experiences under my belt. I loved the country (many travelers either love it or hate it) but was ready for the next leg.

Traveling solo again, I flew to Singapore and met two Ghana RPCVs from a few years before my own service. Cheri met the couple in December and they offered a place to stay. I didn't know what to expect but met thepair and their Siberian huskie at a mall on the very efficient MRT line. They brought me to their house and right up to the 24th floor. The elevator opened to a beautiful house, covered by a nice ex-pat work package. It was a very nice place to relax (especially in an expensive city).

I spent two days reading, hanging out by the pool and relaxing. I did laundry in a machine (shrunk some trousers in the dryer) and the three of us went to a Chinese New Year parade. I learned the different routes around their neighborhood. We seldom went outside, walking in air conditioned malls and hospitals instead of enduring the heat and humidity. Though strict, and likely because it's strict, Singapore seems to be a nice place to live. The city is clean and safe. There are signs for $500 fines for drinking water on the subway or $1000 for riding your bicycle where you shouldn't. I learned that when getting caned, you can choose the long cane, getting bigger scars but less immediate pain or the short cane, getting smaller scars but far greater pain. I am happy that I don't have to choose.

From Singapore, I took the MRT to a bus, across the Malaysian border to an overnight train. The train put Indian trains to shame, I had a small mattress, a pillow, a sheet and a curtain to close out the light. I slept great!! I woke up, got a taxi, got on a speedboat and came to paradise.

Feeling antisocial, I threw in my ipod while on the speedboat. The combination of warm air, good music, high speed and surrounding smiles made me feel really great. I had a smile on my face the whole time.

On Perhentian Island in the South China Sea, I have seen 6 foot lizards, massive spiders and beautiful surrounds. I'm on my third day of scuba certification today. I spent a total of ninety minutes under water yesterday, learning what to do when I lose my regulator, when I run out of air, when I lose my mask etc. It's really great and I'm looking forward to the day. I will meet Megan in Bangkok on Feb. 28. Until then, I'm chillin here.

Love to all.

Days in Mumbai

2010-02-18T07:16:00.000-08:00

Having slept on a luxury overnight bus from Goa to Mumbai, Cheri and I were immediately latched onto by a persistent taxi driver. Insisting that we didn't want a taxi, we lugged our bags back and forth on the sidewalk while figuring out where to go. The bus told us that we were being let off at the closest stop to Colaba yet those around us were telling us that we were 25km away from Colaba.

A friendly young onlooker removed his headphones and decided to help us, enduring the subsequent scorn from our leach of a cabbie. We got in a taxi, got to Colaba and paid less than half of the original quoted price.

We had read in our guidebook that hanging around Colaba is a good way to land a gig as an extra in a Bollywood film. We didn't know where we were supposed to hang out but didn't need to worry about is as we were approached before getting our bags out of the taxi. Two more approaches during the day made it apparent that any young westerner would be approached as long as they left their hostel.

Conflicting schedules meant that Cheri and I would go as extras on different days. I had business school interviews Tuesday and Thursday while Cheri flew to Delhi on Wednesday.

I got back from what I felt was a better than average interview and rested for most of the remaining day. Cheri came back after a 14 hour day with stories of her red sequined bartending outfit from her day on set. The next morning, I rushed around, trying to get packed and moved into a new room while saying goodbye to Cheri before getting to a meeting point around 7:15am. Ready to give up on Bollywood, things came together at the last minute and I was off to my big pay day of 500 rupees (about 11 US dollars).

Most of the day consisted of sitting around in odd costumes. I was in a ripply burgundy silk shirt with a huge collar while others were in odd vests, short skirts and more. The group of 40 plus extras varied from 19 year old bearded Swedish hippies to petite girls you might think would be Hollywood extras or actresses. We sat, were fed, jumped around for 20 second takes as four of Bollywoods biggest stars romped around on top of a bar. I sat in the background as a choreographed dance roared around me. For the last scene, I had to dance on a stairway next to a 5'3" Swedish guy and a baby faced Finnish dude. I feel self conscious dancing with a girl while drunk in a dark bar so dancing under bright lights with dudes on stairs while wearing a floofy shirt with a camera rolling was a bit outside my comfort zone. Many takes were needed and a lot of attention was paid to my area of the shot. The director and her assistants kept asking for energy and at one point yelled "the white guys just can't move!" which I hope referred to the spastic redhead on a platform behind me and not to myself.

It turned out to be a great day and more than half of us went out for a beer afterward. We had people from Estonia, Finland, Sweden, Holland, Germany, Austria and the US chatting over beers and travel stories in a restaurant that had me dragging my ear on the short ceiling.

Today, I came back from my final interview with no travel companion, no business school work to do and no more dancing. I fly to Singapore tomorrow and will wait the next few weeks for replies from business school.

On to the next leg.

Love to all!

First pictures in a while. From Goa and Mumbai. My new suit in the hostel hallway

Still tingling

2010-02-13T04:00:00.000-08:00

Udaipur offered more relaxation than I knew I needed. At no point in our trip were we not negotiating plans in order to mak a specified train time. Sure, we missed some of those train times but we have been working with some cushion. In Udaipur, we got to rest on that cushion.

On the morning of our first full day in Udaipur, we attended an 8:30am yoga class near our hostel. We met a nice fellow American after class and he told us about an amazing Swami who held an evening yoga class overlooking the beautiful lake. We made it to the class, had another 90 minutes of great stretching and awe led by Swami Sudhir (look him up on YouTube.

The next day, we went to Swami Sudhir for morning and evening sessions, stopping to have my measurements taken for new suit between.

After three full, wonderful days in Udaipur, we left more limber, more rested and with me carrying a great suit. We spent a night in Ahmedabad without being much impressed and then we boarded our 20 hour train to Goa!

We bought tickets ten days in advance yet had to share one sleeper berth. The trip was relatively uneventful. We managed to steal naps in berths while they were unoccupied and when the time came, we squeezed into our shared birth as others slept on newspaper beds and strewn across aisles. I felt lucky and surprisingly well rested when we arrived to the gorgeous state of Goa a bit after 6am.

Once we were finally able to check into our hostel, we headed to the beach and stayed at the beach. A nice Indian dinner and a nice sleep got us back to normal. Unfortunately, when I took a quick dip in the Arabian Sea, the ring that I've worn non-stop for over six and a half years left me. I found a similar ring at a Tibetan art fair but it's definitely not the same.

Today, Cheri and I rented a scooter and drove 30km to a spice plantation. We got a tour from a charismatic guide, learning about various spices that nobody could guess from seeing them in plant form. Even a good whiff kept us stumped in certain situations. I haven't driven a scooter since my days in Newport in 2005 but it came back pretty fast. Newport had nowhere near the number of huge trucks passing on two lane highways though. This trip was INTENSE!! I was cautious and conservative but couldn't help but feel a little rattled at times.

After making it through the 'Accident Prone Zone' areas we actually ran out of gas. It was my own fault as I inaccurately figured how long we would have with our non-functioning fuel gauge. Within minutes, Cheri was getting help on one side of the road while I had offers for help next to the scooter. One motorist gave us a few ounces of petrol so that we could make it to the next station. Full of laughs and gratitude, we made it off the highway shoulder only minutes after two moto-riders slid into a median. I am happy to be away from the scary traffic.

We leave on an overnight bus for Mumbai tomorrow night. I will have a little over 24 hours to rest up before interviews at 11am and 3pm with Duke and Michigan business schools respectively. Fingers crossed. I only hope my words will sound as great as my new suit looks.

Love to all,

Carepool, carepool, carepool

2010-02-06T22:41:00.001-08:00

Arriving late in Allahabad, we were unable to book a train before the ticket office closed. Having had success with a waiting list ticket in Agra, we bought a ticket to Jaipur early the next morning and had a wander around. At the time of our train, we were still on the waiting list and would have to take our chances.

We boarded that 12pm train when it arrived at 1:35pm. With all of the bunks full, we felt out the situation and Cheri finally asked a friendly man about a seemingly empty bunk. The bunk turned out to be occupied but we were told that two people would be departing at the next stop and we would be able to take their bunks. We stashed our bags where space was available, we sat and we waited.

Within minutes, a little girl ten feet away began to poke her head out, disappearing at the slightest semblance of eye contact. This game continued for a while before the girl and her mother came over for an introduction. Apparently the girl had been telling her mother that a dee-dee (big sister) was sitting close and she wanted to shake hands. We joined the pair and sat with mother, father, 5 year old daughter and 2 year old son. We talked about life, religion, America, India, arranged marriages and more. Cheri and I were treated to cookies, chips, Indian food and of course great company.

With the train delay, we weren't scheduled to arrive until 2am. When the time came, we managed to get two berths (mine was not enclosed so I fit much better than last time).

Arriving in Jaipur a little after 2am, we learned that our preferred hostel was booked and we were ushered around by rickshaw until finding suitable accommodation. A few hours at a rooftop hookah bar and many hours wandering the gorgeous bazaars of the pink city allowed us to get our fill of Jaipur. We were off on another late night trip, this time to Pushkar.

We arrived in Pushkar at 1:30am and the first thing we saw was a man drawing a trailer full of hay by camel. The next thing was a mini stampede of a dozen cows. Soon, however, a nice young man brought us to his family guesthouse where we found very inexpensive accommodation for the remainder of the night.

Unsure about how long we would stay in Pushkar, Cheri and I left our hostel with the idea of getting bus times for Udaipur. On the way, we found a signboard for camel tours. Cheri stayed to sort out the camel tours while I continued to the bus station.

When leaving the bus station, I saw Cheri approaching on the back of a motorbike. I joined the motorbike and we settled on an overnight camel trip into a nearby village with our host Kalu. A few hours later, I boarded Ramjes with my ten year old guide Rahul behind me. Cheri boarded Krishna with Papa (I forget his real name) seated behind her. The view was great and the ride not terribly uncomfortable. Several children asked for school pens or rupees but for the most part we were left alone.

My guide Rahul spoke limited Enlish but repeatedly told me "you happy boss, me happy." When we approached tree limbs or plants, he would cautiously tell me "carepool sir, carepool, carepool, carepool." We had a playful game of debating who was the boss of whom with my insisting that he was in charge.

An added element to our trip was the fact that our two male camels were in heat. Without notice, they would explode with a loud gurgling sound (think of an exaggerated version of when your stomach tells you that you've eaten something terribly wrong) and their massive tongues would spew out from their closed mouths. It looked as though they were regurgitating their own stomachs but gave for a good laugh.

Upon arriving at Kalu's family home, we were greeted by grandmother, dog, dancing horse and many goats. After a short walk, several more family members arrived and Cheri and I each realized that we had been desperately craving family time. Watching Kalu's mother Santos prepare what turned out to be maybe the best meal of my life reminded me of Ghana. The joking nature and clear love shared among the family was a real treat and I hope to go back. An Australian business owner joined the group, explaining that she has stayed with Kalu and family for 4 years on and off when she comes for materials for her textile business. She was a clear member of the family and exacerbated the longing for Ghana. Cheri and I both loved and needed this night.

The next day, we walked the colorful, touristy main street of Pushkar before taking an overnight bus to Udaipur. The connecting bus from Pushkar to Ajmer had us picked up by a rickshaw but with no prior explanation, we felt a bit as though we were being abducted or led on a scam mission. Eventually we arrived at our correct bus and got to Udaipur this morning at 5am. I am taking a much needed rest/reorganization day while Cheri wanders the town.

More later.

Love to all
Ira

Sunrise on the Ganges

2010-01-31T23:48:00.000-08:00

Varanasi certainly did not disappoint. Happy that we had daylight to get our bearings, Cheri and I checked into more of a backpacker hostel on day two. We were centrally located and surrounded by other travelers. After talking to many travelers from various locations (UK, Australia, Sweden) we realized that our one month jaunt is the shortest trip we've heard of. Travelers on their second of three months also wail about how much they will miss and how much there is to see in India. With less than three weeks, I feel that I have seen a lot without too much stress.

While in Varanasi, we wandered the labyrinthine streets while dodging cows, dogs, beggars, motorcycles, cow pies, monkeys, streams of betel nut/tobacco spit and processions of chanting men carrying a dead loved one on an orange shrouded stretcher. Our new hostel was a ten minute walk (once we stopped getting lost) from the main burning ghat. Fires are burning 24 hours per day and as many as 300 bodies will be burnt every day. This particular ghat burns only Hindus and all Brahman that want to be burned will be burned with the exception of children, pregnant women, holy men, sufferers of small pox, lepers and those who died by cobra bite. It is believed that these individuals are either blessed or pure and do not need the cleansing process provided by the burning. It takes three hours for a body to burn and it is a very strange experience to stand among ten pyres as bodies lay in various degrees of transformation. We went to visit this ghat each day but never stayed more than fifteen minutes or so. In our few visits, we saw a skull literally explode (does anyone know why this would happen) as it burned. We also saw one of the fire tenders try to move a body to help the burning process. He used a large bamboo pole to move the body and threw the bamboo pole aside when he finished. Almost instantly, two of Varanasi's countless dogs sidled up to gnaw the burnt flesh from the end of the bamboo. I am sorry to focus on the gruesome aspects as the process seems much more cathartic and happy than any funeral I have ever attended. The cremation process is a happy event as it is the end of the cycle of rebirth. Understandably, photos were not permitted during this process. Even when trying to take pictures from a great distance to give a sense of the layout, I got a good tongue lashing.

On January 30, we went for a sunrise boat ride on the Ganges. Having taken a free boat ride during the previous evening sunset, we had a sense of the area and it's beauty. January 30 was a festival day. We heard that it was a Punjab festival and we also heard that it was a Sikh festival so we weren't quite sure what to expect. Either way, we quickly saw the crowd that the festival provided. The ghats flowed with undulating colors as men, women and children ventured to the Ganga (local pronunciation). Sarees, orange flowers and the deep orange of sunrise made for a truly unbelievable start to the day. This hour long ride was riveting enough to allow the fatigue from our 5am wake-up to subside temporarily. The only other signs of a festival that we saw during the day were at a seemingly heated demonstration in the center of town. Men screamed into a megaphone and were echoed by an emphatic crowd. Wary, Cheri and I took a detour and a few blocks later saw a constant stream of stern looking police officers headed right where we had come from. No news spread of any trouble but I was happy to distance myself from the pulsating energy.

We are now in Allahabad, another holy city that drew 70,000,000 people to the confluence of the Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati rivers for Kumbh Mela. We arrived one day after a smaller gathering of holy men and lugged our bags through a sea of bearded, painted holy men in all orange. Quite a sight indeed.

We intended to continue to Jaipur in Rajasthan today but we were unable to get a ticket departing before mid-day tomorrow. We will spend about a week in Rajashtan before heading south to see Mumbai and Goa.

Still great here!

Love to all.
Ira

The elusive Taj

2010-01-27T23:01:00.000-08:00

Cheri and I got up early in order to reach the train station for our 7:10am train. We endured the swerving and halting of our auto- rickshaw on the way and arrived with plenty of time to spare. We quickly learned that our train had been fogged in and that the price had been refunded. No Taj Mahal that day. Unfortunately, that price was paid by hour hostel manager and was refunded to his online account. Unable to get an afternoon train, we spent an extra day relaxing in Delhi. We spent more of the next 24 hours asleep than we did awake so it seems to be a blessing in disguise.

When we made out train (only 30 minutes late arriving) we were excited to be only a night train from the Taj Mahal. Instead, we arrived 3 hours late, checked in to our hostel in the wee hours and got a late start in Agra. After walking to the Agra Fort and posing for countless photos with Indian children and full families (a common trend so far) we were headed to the Taj Mahal with plans to arrive around sunset. We arrived at around 5 and learned that we were 45 minutes from closing. Rather than feel rushed, we decided to wait another day.

Jan 26, 2010 was the 60th Indian Republic Day and we were headed to the Taj Mahal finally! After a trip to the Baby Taj (built before the Taj Mahal and entirely out of marble) we worked out way to the Taj Mahal at 3pm. Upon arriving at 4pm, we saw that the line was at least 100 yards long and moving slowly. With plenty to look at, Cheri and I waited (the women's line was non-existent, I was stuck in the men's line). Cheri headed in first and when I finally got inside, I saw her posing in photo after photo, getting pictures taken with every individual from a family of at least 8 people. Several hours of awe and crowds brought us through sunset and up until we were being kicked out at closing. The Taj Mahal is truly incredible. Seeing the marble change color as the sun continued to set was simply breathtaking.

That same night, we went to the Agra train station in time for our 11:30pm overnight train to Varanasi. The train arrived shortly after 2am and I promptly fell asleep in my triangular casket shaped berth. Close the the train ceiling, I had to wedge myself into the berth in such a way that by legs could bend (the berth was under 6 feet in length) and allow then to fit between the metal supports. Surprisingly, I fell asleep almost instantly and slept on and off until 1pm. Scheduled to arrive at 2pm, I felt great!! When the train emptied out and we began chatting with fellow travelers at around 4pm, we still had quite a way to go. With extra space and good conversation, the next several hours flew by and we arrived at 9pm, nearly 22 hours after we were scheduled to depart. Mice, cockroaches, food sellars and beggars frequented the train but all in all it was very enjoyable.

We're now in Varanasi and after a morning walking along the Ganges, seeing holy men, shrouded corpses and plenty of washing/bathing in the river, we are settled into our hostel, preparing for more to come from this Hindu holy land.

Love to all,
Ira

In Delhi

2010-01-20T03:52:00.000-08:00

Amsterdam was a nice end to my European trip. With Cheri's arrival, I was able to break my habit of avoiding museums that cost any money. When I had two days on my own, I took a free walking tour and got a good sense of the city. When Cheri arrived, we walked all around Amsterdam, visiting the Anne Frank house, the Van Gogh Museum, the Heineken Experience and the Sex Museum. The Heineken Experience was the most expensive but included three free Heinekens. With the forgetfulness of the bartender and the generosity of fellow tour members, Cheri and I managed 5 ice cold Heinis and definitely got our moneys worth.

We wandered the red light district, trying to decide if we felt better for the women parading in front of their windows or those who were occupied behind a closed curtain. The free tour shared information that a window can cost as much as 150 euros for an 8 hour shift while women commonly charge a minimum of 50 euros for fifteen minutes. It seems like a very lucrative though unenjoyable line of work. The creepy, lurking men really emphasized the bad side of the gig.

Yesterday, Cheri and I flew separately to London. Though our round the world travels share locations and travel dates, we never fly on the same airplane. Cheri arrived in London at around 7pm and thanks to my previous visit, I was able to recommend a comfortable, central waiting point. Unfortunately, my flight was delayed and she had to wait for over three hours. A benefit to cultural readjustment is that nearly everything is new and exciting. Seeing crowds, eating basic foods and chatting with strangers can make the hours fly by. When I arrived, Cheri was perfectly comfortable and we went to visit Sally and Suzie in their new digs. SF family friends for many years, Sally and Suzie were great hostesses, giving a place to sleep and helping give Cheri a proper London tour while I flew to India.

I left at 11:50am. I arrived at 1:30am local time and after customs and baggage claim, realized that both ATM machines were down. I had only 8 pounds left, too little to take to the ForEx. After some negotiations, I managed to exchange 8 pounds and one euro for two samosas and 525 rupees. I paid a bit extra but was very happy to be able to get underway.

I got a pre-paid taxi and was on my way at 3:45am. Due to heavy fog, visibility was similar to that on Skyline Blvd. at night. I could see the hazards of other vehicles 50 or so feet ahead but could see nothing else. Shortly after 5am, the taxi driver was still unable to find my hostel. I had detailed, written directions and a phone number but we weren't able to manage. At this point, I used my failsafe method of visiting a ritzy hotel. I have had success with this approach in Vienna and in Budapest so thought I would test my luck. My pre-paid taxi tried to charge a hefty additional fee for driving me around for so long. We came to an agreement that 180 rupees (4 dollars) and 5 Ghana Cedis would cover the 700 rupees he hoped to get. I know that he was trying to overcharge me a bit but appreciated the comfort of the taxi. I insisted that he wouldn't be able to exchange the Ghanaian money but he insisted that it was a fair exchange.

I was helped into the nice hotel by doormen and was greeted by the concierge. Unfortunately, internet access would cost 400 rupees per hour (almost nine dollars). The friendly concierge knew that I was close to my hostel and apparently could tell that I wasn't a nine dollars per-hour kind of spender so he helped me get proper directions, called a taxi and gave the taxi driver the hostel phone number.

I arrived at the Blue Sapphire Hostel at 6am and slept until 2pm. Cheri arrived at 3 and we have been sorting out various odds and ends, trying to think of the best way to deal with the next month in India. There is a very distinct smell (similar source but different ingredients from the Ghana smell) and noise that I already appreciate.

Off for some good food and more rest.

Love to all!!

A new favorite

2010-01-12T12:56:00.000-08:00

Though Prague was gorgeous and I had a great time, I fell in love with Budapest instantly.

After a very long, very late night dancing throughout Prague, I made it to the bus station with an hour and a half to spare only to learn that one seat remained. By the time my information was processed, of course the seat was taken and I had to get back on Metro and head to the train station where I paid three times the price. In the end, I enjoyed the space and ability to walk around. However, the directions I wrote down were from the bus station so when my train arrived an hour late, I was in Budapest at 11:30pm with no idea where to go.

I took the first taxi of my travels only to learn that Goat Hostel was not well known. As the driver took me across the Danube, I got a great view of the Citadel, Parliament and other gorgeous buildings that I would visit the following day. I remembered the Metro stop from my directions and was dropped off with the plan of winging the rest. I walked back and forth along what seemed to be the correct street. Lugging my bags, I eventually wandered into a 4 star hotel and was given permission to use the free internet. Even with directions, I couldn't find the hostel. I was directed right back to where I had been walking and when I asked at a bar, I was told that I was one door away. There was absolutely no signage other than a bolded Goat Hostel written among a dozen residences on the address label. After it all, the hostel is very nice.

The next morning, I walked up Gellert hill, read about the rich history of Budapest and kept on walking. I visited the Parliament building, and kept going until my legs, exhausted from dancing, 6 hours on the train, wandering with my luggage and walking around Budapest were very ready for the thermal baths. I spent nearly two hours going from sauna to sauna, pool to pool before heading back for a great sleep.

I was greeted by two very cool Australian girls. After chatting for a bit, we went out for what turned out to be incredibly good Hungarian food. Today, the three of us ventured out with the goal of reaching Statue Park, a park full of Communist statues. We got to appropriate bus station, waited a while and were finally told that the transport workers were on strike and that we wouldn't be able to make it. Instead, we visited a gorgeous indoor market, ate more great Hungarian food, met more fun travelers, went out for more great Hungarian food and came back here.

We've just started a movie. Tomorrow, I fly to Amsterdam tomorrow and will meet Cheri two days later.

Love to all'

Snow makes me shutter happy

2010-01-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

A few hours after arriving in Vienna, I joined a group of three Chileans in conversation and went from there. We had a few beers and instead of sleeping early like the old, frugal traveler I've been, I went out on the town with a group of 21 and 22 year olds. We trekked over a mile through dumping snow to a bar where I instantly hit it off with a group of ex-pats. I danced up a storm, chatted a great deal and trekked back through the snow at about 4am. People kept buying my beers so I managed to stay frugal while giving up my early bedtime.

A late wakeup allowed me an energized day of wandering picturesque Vienna. I took an incredible amount of pictures. My inexperience with snow makes everything so much more exciting. Incredible architecture under a layer of snow and clear sky could not be beat.

A more mellow night, a 5 hour train trip, 2 hours lost wandering ( I will print directions next time) in Prague and I arrived at my current hostel. Today allowed for another day of beautiful architecture and a layer of snow. The snow continued to dump and it was about 20 degrees out. More pictures (uploads to come, I am borrowing a laptop) in Prague than in Vienna I believe. It's gorgeous here and I have two more days to explore. I don't think I will make it to the bone church, I will see how I'm feeling. Really loving this trip and all of the fellow travelers.

Love to all!

Ira

When in doubt, have a beer

2010-01-05T06:22:00.001-08:00

Since arriving in Bratislava, I have been worried that I wouldn't give Slovakia it's proper due. It's cold and for the most part quite unattractive. No tourist website had much to recommend. Nevertheless, I decided to give it the good old wander to see what I could find.

After a nice, inexpensive lunch, I decided to head back to the hostel on another road. I saw a saw a nice local pub with no prices starting in a number higher than 1. I stopped for a beer, had a second (a local beer I can't remember the name of) and was joined by a friendly mustachioed Slovak and his son. We chatted a bit, I explained that I was in Slovakia for no reason in particular and they offered to drive me to the castle in order to get a good look at Bratislavan history.

There were a few beautiful sights and after wandering, getting lost and finally getting the bus back to the neighborhood of my hostel, I realized that I had never strayed more than a mile from my starting point. Not a huge city but at least I gave it a proper look. Now off to Vienna!

Love to all.

Solo again

2010-01-04T10:50:00.000-08:00

As of 4:30am on Jan 2 I was on my own again. I was on my own in a nice hotel for the first 8 hours or so which I must say was very nice. I slept in, made my fifth trip to the gym in our 3 day stay and I took another hot shower (they just don't get old!)

I found Peace and Love Hostel and checked in around 2pm. Though I pretty much figured out the metro system, I somehow misread a street sign and walked WAY out of my way. When I reached my room after climbing 6 flights of stairs I was pretty spent. I wandered a bit, worked on applications but called it a night pretty early.

Luckily, the first Sunday of every month offers free admission to all of the museums in Paris. I spent the day (as many hours in lines as in museums) at the Louvre (meh) and the Musee D'Orsee (awesome!!). Walking along a hallway of Renoir, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, Cesanne and others all in a row was unbelievable!! I am not a museum guy but I was blown away. I am not a fan of people taking photos of paintings. I am not sure why it bugs me so much but I really can't stand it.

This morning, I had to pick up my passport at the Indian visa office. Officially pick-up hours aren't until 2pm but I was lucky enough to skip the line and be in and out before 9am. I got back to the hostel and tried to buy my morning coffee. In exchange for getting ice from about 100 feet away, I was given free coffee and juice. When I was getting the juice a guy offered me a buttered baguette. I know I'm easily impressed but the day started WAY better than I had expected.

Things got a little less easy as the day went on. Nothing too bad though. I arrived at the bus station (my airport was over an hour outside Paris) well in advance and was behind an irate Frenchman. I don't understand much french but it sounded as though he was yelling something like "I'm an impatient ass and I'm going to make a scene even though there's nothing that can be done." The friendly woman behind the counter kindly replied something like. "I'm sorry but there is nothing that can be done." and changed windows to give me a chance. The impatient fellow pushed me out of the way and forced me to give him a big shove and my pretend I can fight face. I got my ticket, the angry man got sorted out and we were on our merry way.

Unfortunately, somebody must have spilled my plot to the authorities because my duct tape and jump rope were confiscated so I couldn't go through with my tape-n-skip terror plot. I bought my 5 euro ticket weeks in advance so I could duct tape people in place and whip them with my jump rope.

I made it to Bratislava and did my best to figure out where to go based on signs. I teamed up with two young french women and with the help of a Slovak woman and an Italian woman, we found the hostel in which I am typing.

I may head to Vienna for the day tomorrow and to Prague at night. Bratislava doesn't really call to me. We shall see.

Love to all

NYE in Paris

2009-12-31T05:43:00.000-08:00

I am hoping to make it a second consecutive NYE without a fainting episode similar to my first NYE in Ghana. You know what I'm talking about.

My time in France has been absolutely incredible. It may not prepare me for the squalor of the rest of my trip as I have been filling up on champagne, foie gras and fine cheeses (thank you Jonathan and Annie). An incredible Christmas morning with stockings, fireplace and all was followed up with a seven course meal (photos are needed to give an idea). Too much wine at a game night on boxing day left me useless but content on the 27th.

My dad and I have since been to La Rochelle, Bordeaux and are now back up north in Paris. We have been a bit lost in each place but keep each other in good moods. We balance each other well. I like getting lost and then figuring it out. He does not like getting lost. I don't like spending money and will walk miles to avoid it. He doesn't mind spending money (works for both of us). We both like to eat and explore and can laugh at ourselves and at one another.

Tonight we have some NYE plans to figure out. The Eiffel tower will put on some sort of first ever light show that we hope to check out. Dad will leave early on the 2nd and I will kill a few days in Paris , hopefully picking up my passport from the VERY expensive Indian Visa office.

I am having a great time but am currently stealing wifi from a restaurant (and my food just arrived).

Love to all and happy new year!!

Merry Christmas from France!!!

2009-12-24T23:56:00.000-08:00

All is great here. Great food and great company in a beautiful home in Saxan France.

Love to all and happy holidays!!

Through the Chunnel

2009-12-19T08:13:00.000-08:00

My time in London was brief, rainy and cold. I stayed with a friend from San Francisco for my first night in town but due to prior engagements and schedules had to make it to a hostel for night two.

Though I managed some of my typical wandering, the cost of the tube and food was enough to keep me indoors much of the time. I have a strict mental budget and after my phone crapped out (a new phone with 10 pounds of credit was only 14 pounds!!) and I ate a basic meal, I was quickly reaching my limit.

The pace, price and left-side drivers gave me my most intense culture shock to date. I spent much of the day playing FIFA 2010 on Playstation 3. A nice relaxing day before heading to my hostel on the tube. A bite to eat, a televised football match and some chats with travelers brought me to a 10:30pm bedtime with snow flurries outside. At 2:30am I woke for the last time (many other travelers were in and out of the room through the night) and donned my excess baggage for my trip to Luton airport. When buying my ticket for the tube earlier in the day, I was told that I could use it all day, up through 3am. With my trip planned, I walked past many boisterous, stumblingly drunk groups on my way to the closed station. Panicked, I took a taxi through the snow to a bus station, hoping to make it in time for my 6am flight.

I arrived at the station and was told that no buses went from there to Luton. I was assured that no buses were going to Luton and that no flights were leaving Luton. I was sitting on the bus terminal floor at 3am with no idea how I would get to Paris. Some calls and texts home calmed me and as I ran out of phone credit, I found that I could get a 10 hour bus to Paris at 9am.

Rather than sit idle, I walked to the ATM and the Victoria Station in order to check my options. Lugging my bags, I walked through the early morning snow (still pretty great for this beach dwelling Californian) and sat at the station for a while before learning my best option.

A short bus ride later, I bought an overpriced but happily purchased Eurostar ticket to Paris. Guided by the bus schedule, little sleep and my Ghana travels, I thought that the 10:17 travel time meant that my 6:55am train would arrive just after 5pm. I made the appropriate calls and was pleased to arrive in Paris just after 10:30am.

I found the hotel, dropped my luggage and lounged until my Dad arrived a few hours later. BBC news was the only English language channel and went on and on about the terrible weather hitting the UK and France.

Today, after a long walk through Paris with my Dad, he and I saw on BBC that four Eurostar trains left London and were trapped in the chunnel for up to 15 hours. Though I felt very unlucky and put out at times, I kept high spirits, good humor and in the end lucked out!

Love to all

Fellow travelers

2009-12-10T11:29:00.000-08:00

Though it isn't the peak season for tourism, I have met a good number of fellow travelers. Perhaps because it isn't the peak season, I have met some very dedicated and very experienced travelers.

In Cappadocia I met a trio (Swiss male 60s, Swiss male 28, Swedish female 30s) as the took a respite from their Switzerland to Nepal bicycle trip. The 28 year old spend 2 months cycling through Pakistan last year and told me that cycling is just a better way to travel and that he didn't take more than one long ride a week when at home.

I chatted with a Kiwi jiu-jitsu/mui thai fighting 32 year old chef who works long enough to fund his next trip.

Two Indian men came through individually and were constantly on the go. They were either touring, eating, sleeping or preparing the next stage of their travel.

I briefly met a sketchy Moroccan man. He hung around the hostel all day. When two travelers noticed money missing, new arrivals from Istanbul mentioned a similar situation at their hostel and one tenant in common. The man promptly left.

I went on a few nice hikes with a Polish-American statistician who grew up all over. Sometimes thinking in odds and percentages doesn't translate well to hiking. After losing a path, we saw a familiar landmark across a steep valley and kept deciding that we could probably make it down one way or most likely get down another way. We definitely ran into a lot of dead ends, one of which was a 20 foot drop that we noticed after sliding down steep declines on our butts. We tried and failed to get out by several routes and as the sun was setting, the temperature was dropping and our fears were quıckly mounting, we managed to shimmy up with backs literally pressed against one wall and feet straight out ahead. Nice now, not then.

On a paid tour of an ancient underground city (7,000 years old?) and various valleys, I latched on to a group of bonded solo travelers. A history academiad re-thinking his goals (but offering great info. on the surrounds), an ecologist between jobs in Switzerland and New Mexico/Argentina, a USC film school grad recently off his first feature as a cinematographer, and finally a lone Swede among Americans a year out of high school, headed south through Syria, Jordan, Iran and maybe a few other places it's easier to go without stars and stripes on your passport.

After the paid tour, the history buff went back to a Bulgarian fellowship, the Swede continued south and I joined the other two for a morning trip to Konya.

Fighting a fever and soar throat, I endured the cold as the three of us wandered Konya, visited great museums and enjoyed a non-touristy destination. We intended to leave for Antalya the same day we arrived but just before leaving for the 5pm bus, we learned that it was the second day of the 736th annual Mevlana Festival. We wandered a bit more before managing to get tickets and hole up in a warm place for a few hours before the 8pm show. Almost as entertaining as the event was the crowd. Full rows of old mustachioed Turkish men would sit in front of full rows of old Turkish women with colorful scarves, colorful (though different from the scarves) sweaters and yet more (still different) colorful trousers.

The Whirling Dervishes that we saw were absolutely mesmerizing and much more somber than I expected. The hats they wear represent the tombstone and their clothing the shroud.

Gettıng here

2009-12-03T07:19:00.000-08:00

I am now ın Cappadocıa and realıze that much of the journey has been based on feel. Istanbul was one of the cheapest locatıons from Accra and I have always heard great thıngs so I bought the tıcket.

The day I pıcked up my tıcket ın Accra I mentıoned ıt to a frıend ın the Peace Corps computer room. A dıfferent volunteer overheard the conversatıon and told me about hıs 3 months ın Turkey and saıd that Cappadocıa ıs an absolute must see.

After a few days ın Istanbul, I felt that I had seen the sıghts and had enough of the pushy rug and leather merchants (though I had nıce chats over tea wıth a few) so I bought an overnıght tıcket to Cappadocıa.

I left last nıght at 7pm on a shuttle. I got to the bus and was blown away. West Afrıcan travel really has set me up perfectly for thıs round the world journey. The temperature was perfect, despıte the outsıde temperature of -2c at certaın poınts. My seat reclıned and the seat ın front of me had a cup holder and a footrest for my use. The seat next to me was empty for the entıre trıp!! I have traveled 16 hours ın Ghana luxury buses only to cover a bıt less than half of the dıstance we covered last nıght ın 12 hours. Other passengers complaıned about havıng Turkısh news playıng on a televısıon screen. No problem.

When I got off of the bus thıs mornıng I was ın a faıry tale. Cappadocıa ıs an area wıth ıncredıble hıstory. Tools and ormaments from the neolıthıc era have been found. The Hattı, Hıttıtes, Persıans, Arıanthes, Romans, Chrıstıans, Seljuks and Ottomans have all settled here at one poınt or another. The regıon was covered after a volcanıc eruptıon 3-9 mıllıon years ago and due to erosıon and development, the landscape has come to consıst of hundreds of natural pıllar shaped rock formatıons.

I am now stayıng ın a hostel that has been burrowed ınto rock. My walls and ceılıng are stone. I went on a 3 hour hıke wıth a fellow yankee (an aussıe and a canadıan joıned for part) to one of the closest spectacles. I am not sure how long I wıll stay but ıt has been great so far. See for yourselves.

Love to all

So many tourısts

2009-11-30T03:10:00.000-08:00

I know that I am one of the 20 mıllıon plus tourısts that vısıt Istanbul annually but thıs ıs ınsane. I guess 6´3 blonde guys stıck out as much ın Turkey as they do ın Ghana.

I got here last nıght and thanks to a generous gıft from my mom I am stayıng wıthın a few mınutes of the Blue Mosque the Hagıa Sophıa and the Hıppodrome. If you cant tell I am havıng a hard tıme fındıng most punctuatıon on thıs Turkısh keyboard.

After arrıvıng at about 2pm I got my tourıst Vısa got asked about transport and managed to lug my bags across town on local transport for only 3 Turkısh Lıra (I thınk that equals about 2 dollars). Not much compared to the 30 euro aırport shuttle that was offered.

I wandered for two hours last nıght and another three hours thıs mornıng. I know there ıs a lot to see but wıth the entıre populatıon beıng made up of tourısts and hawkers I am gettıng worn out quıckly.

The plan from here ıs to take an overnıght bus to Cappadocıa where I hope to spend a few days. From Cappadocıa I hope to go to Antalya on the southern coast. Tryıng to balance my ultra frugalıty and my desıre to experıence Turkey has been dıffıcult. I have had very nıce food and grea tea but wıll save the Turkısh baths untıl I leave tourıst central.

Exhausted but greatç

Love to all
Ira

Turkey yesterday, Turkey tomorrow

2009-11-27T06:55:00.000-08:00

The trip north and to the beach was a success. I got to see great drumming and dancing in Kpendua to round out the village experience. Cheri and I went surfing at Busua beach in the south. At this rate, maybe I won't be so bad after six continents?

Yesterday was my second consecutive Thanksgiving Day spent at the ambassador's residence. Plenty of food and Sangria. Very nice!!! After the meal, I went to the home of our Country Director with two fellow volunteers where we watched football (the american type) and relaxed.

Today I got my luggage in order and tomorrow I fly to Turkey. It's hard to believe but the next journey is starting very shortly!!

I still haven't heard anything from Columbia being more practical than pessimistic, I'll be getting my other applications in order in Turkey.

Happy here.

Love to all
Ira

Getting my R

2009-11-18T05:09:00.000-08:00

In a few hours I will officially be an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). I've had my work cut out for me the past few days. I left Bormase at 5am Monday morning. Sunday was full of fun, playing spa (a local card game) and football. Much of the community came out to the school site where I received a smock from the village bicycle project participants. It was very hard to realize how many things I would be doing for the last time.

I had my last bucket bath by starlight. I went to sit at the borehole though I didn't need to fetch water. I went to visit many friends for the last time. Too many lasts to count.

My mind is awash with memories and I'm sure I haven't even begun to miss my village like I will. I've been busy getting administrative things done in Accra. I'm closing out proposals for the bead workshop (only flooring needs to be completed) and the school (blackboards and some plastering still needed) and submitted my Description of Service and site history reports. I've been poked and prodded and given a variety of samples. I had a chest x-ray to prove that my inactive TB didn't become active TB. So much so quickly.

I'm hoping to get out of Accra today. Cheri and I will go to Kumasi this evening, to Tamale the following day and to her village Kpendua on Friday. We plan to venture toward the beach on Monday. More whirlwind touring. I want to get a day of surfing in before I leave Africa. I have a goal to become the worlds worst surfer to have surfed on six continents. I have two continents down and the upcoming trip will take care of the rest. I'm flying to Turkey in ten days and hope to get my mind out of my village before then. We'll see how that goes.

Though my Peace Corps journey is coming to an end, I plan to keep blogging. I'll update the blog through my third straight Christmas away from home and the many adventures that I can't yet imagine.

Thank you all for following this blog. I've enjoyed writing more than I expected I would.

Love to all, more to come.

Ira

Going away dinner

2009-11-09T01:29:00.000-08:00

I'm in Kof buying the last cement for the school and bead projects.

Yesterday, Dorothy, Raphael, Stephen, Paul, Johnny, Michael and I enjoyed a day in celebration of my time in Bormase. We had minerals and biscuits for lunch and slaughtered a rabbit for dinner.

Emmanuel joined in time for fufu with delicious rabbit meat. Stephen and Raphael will leave today and I likely won't see them again before I leave. I hope to see them again ever.

The day included carrying handfuls of 8 week old chickens from a tro to the chicken coop. I was attacked by another mama hen as I tried to save it's chick (a few days old) while the chick hung upside down by it's clawnail.

I did wash by hand for one of the last times. I've been taking photos like a maniac, trying to get what seems mundane but will be so strange soon. A sheep munching away at a plantain leaf, a toothless old woman walking barefoot to the store. I sure will miss this place.

Love to all.
Ira

Peace Corps emotional swings

2009-11-05T06:37:00.000-08:00

I've been visiting with some of my best Peace Corps friends during their last days in country.

As the one in the group who would be going back for more work at site, I expressed the feeling that always accompanies time away from site.

I told my friends that when I leave, I feel guilty for being away and become eager to go back. When it's time to go back, I dread it a bit, savoring the running water, company and electricity. When I finally get on the road, I'm excited to get back to my friends in the village. When I'm in Bormase, I love it and wonder why I dreaded my return. When the time comes for me to leave site for any reason, I'm eager to leave.

I thought that this process would stop after a few months but it's lasted the full time. When I expressed it aloud, it was received with emphatic nods and wholehearted agreement. It's hard to understand the emotional swings but they come with the territory.

Seeing my friends leave is sad. I don't know when I'll see them again and most of them have no idea what they'll do when they get home. We've all spent time talking about how long a Peace Corps service is. We counted down months and now it's time to go. Each experience is fully unique and unexplainable. Here's to two years and a lifetime of failing to explain what it was like.

Love to all.
Ira

Same country, different world

2009-10-30T04:08:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I attended a Columbia Admissions info session in Accra. For just over 25 dollars, I was able to transform myself back in the business casual guy I was before Peace Corps. New shoes, trousers, belt, tie and shirt allowed me to ensure that at least one aspect of my presence wouldn't stand out too much.

Assistant Dean and Executive Director of Admissions, Linda Meehan hosted the event, giving a detailed run down of the program and opening the floor to questions. I sat among about fifty other guests, ranging from recent university graduates to World Bank employees to company owning Columbia alums. The session reaffirmed my belief that Columbia is the school for me. Ms. Meehan was funny and very accommodating, giving valuable information to future applicants as well as those of us mid-application process.

I was able to ask a few questions but when the formal aspect of the event ended, I planned to ask a few more questions of Ms. Meehan but was cut off by other attendees and questions about Peace Corps and what brought me to the event.

After two years in the bush, it was eye opening to meet accountants and financial advisers educated in the UK and the US. Though I didn't quite fit the target demographic, I felt that I got a lot out of the event. Seeing the dedication that Columbia has to creating a diverse, balanced class was very important to me. Though the application is out of my hands, it was nice to get a better feel of what the program offers and what it can provide.

On another note, I recently had to bite the bullet and buy myself a new camera. I am now on my third camera of Peace Corps. It took some serious rationalizing on my part for me to allow myself to pay inflated Accra prices. In the end, I decided that the photos I'll take during my last 3 weeks in country and during the first leg of my round the world trip.

I've added more photos. Unrelated to the entry but still nice.

Love to all,
Ira

Guinea Pigs

2009-10-26T04:24:00.000-07:00

I thought that it would be nice to COS a few weeks after most of my friends. By allowing them to leave first, I thought I would have a chance to learn from their mistakes and confusion when leaving their respective villages. Instead, I get to watch my friends leave and freak out and figure out the tumult of emotions that await me.

Last week, I went to visit Cheri in Kpendua and Gray in his village in the Upper West. Cheri and I wanted to see the Upper West and were lucky enough to be there on the day of his going away celebration. Gray recently had latrines built at the JHS and Primary Schools in his village and a big celebration was held in his honor. The emotions involved were unbelievable and I had never been to the village before.

When I got back to Bormase, three new classrooms were constructed and had shiny zinc roofs over them. Every bit of construction that was planned had been completed and the excitement was palpable.

Yesterday, the Catholic priest pulled me from my reading time to discuss some important matters. He told me to be careful with my project because contractors, masons and carpenters often pad numbers in order to chop money and materials. He has been in the area for 7 years and knows how things work.

I didn't appreciate this advice at all!! Though this priest has been perfectly friendly and helpful throughout my time here, he hasn't lived and worked among the friends that are now helping with the construction. I know that Ghana is known for corruption and recently had to deal with my drunk chief asking for handouts but why come to me now?

I'm a bit sensitive about this I know but having him drive up on his motorbike (the other priest had the truck) on his way back to his nice house only to tell me about how villagers can be really rubbed me the wrong way.

As far as I can tell, the bead center and school are coming along as planned. No materials have gone missing and we are below budget so far.

My camera spoiled somehow during my last travels so I'll have to figure out a way to get final photos. Below are pictures just for pictures' sake.

-Through the windshield, looking at the wood we just picked up.
-The courtyard in front of my house with my neighbor Patience strolling around (taken through the doggie door)
-Me with Sweetie
-Harvesting Moringa (practicing the timer on my camera)
Love to all

Ira

Timing is everything

2009-10-20T08:13:00.000-07:00

A fellow Ghana PCV left about 5 months ago to pursue a graduate school scholarship. About a week ago, he sent an e-mail to a number of us, updating us on what he's been up to. He lamented about the economy, the mundane and the reaction he got from friends. I don't know if it was intentional but he sent this e-mail as many other volunteers are preparing to leave for home.

Two volunteers from my group have officially closed their services (COSed). They had their respective home issues and received permission to go home more than 30 days ahead of our official NOv. 26 COS date. Almost nobody has an idea of what they plan/hope to do when they get home. We have different degrees of COS trip plans. A large group will meet in Barcelona shortly after Thanksgiving and will take a low cost, off season cruise to Galveston, Texas. As of now, I have a one way ticket to Istanbul November 28 and a plan to figure out what comes next. I'll meet my Dad in France mid to late December and will meet Cheri for a flight from London to Delhi mid January. I hope to travel until May. HOPEFULLY I will hear good news about grad school before this time but we shall see.

Projects are going well. I'm still trying to balance work and planning my re-adjustment yet again.

Love to all!!

Ira

Submitted

2009-10-08T04:14:00.000-07:00

Two days ago, I submitted my early decision application for Fall 2010 at Columbia Business School. It's been quite a process and it feels SO good to have it sumbitted. I got some editing done when not running the VAC meeting in Accra. The meeting went well but I wasn't as close to finished as I hoped I would be.

I went to Kumasi to get more internet/electricity time but the power was out for the bulk of the time I was there. I was able to edit in spurts only to wait as many as 10 hours for the power to come back. The day before the application was due, I uploaded my final essays (thanks to Rob, Justin, Gray, Will, Nick, Tycho, Cheri and Martha for their help) but couldn't upload my transcript. Though my transcript is far from the highlight of my application, it's still required. I sent a tech support request and got a reply saying that it would be processed within 4 business hours. To kill those 4 hours, I jumped on a tro to Koforidua, arrived 4 hours later and arrived at almost the exact same time as the tech support reply.

I got my application submitted a day before the deadline and recently got an update telling me that my application has been printed and is being prepared for review.

The next step will be to attend an information session in Accra on October 28. Accra is one of only 3 African cities to host a Columbia info session so I feel very lucky in that regard. The director of admissions will be in attendance so I can help her put a face to my name.

As far as PC projects, they are also going very well. When I left for my meeting, Patrick had a schedule of steps to take towards completing the school project. When I got back yesterday with 30 more bags of cement, I was happy to see that everything planned had been completed beautifully. Three carpenters were hard at work. The foundation and frame were completed and the carpenters and masons plan to work every day until the work is done. Though a construction project can't really be considered sustainable development, it's nice to know that the community worked so well together in my absence.

The bead center has taken a back seat but only needs a bit more work for completion. My Moringa farm is flourishing and I will honestly miss my trees. I've been harvesting and drying leaves but haven't found a proper market outside Bormase.

And my toe is healing quickly!!
Feeling great!!

Love to all
Ira

Hands off development

2009-09-28T07:51:00.000-07:00

With my national VAC meeting this week and plenty of essay work to do, I've left the school and bead projects behind me. After consecutive days starting with 6am meetings and extensive organization, I've left 90 2x6 boards, 80 2x4 boards and money for ten bags of cement in Bormase.

When I return next Monday, the bulk of the frame should be completed. I sure hope it really does get complete while I'm away.

In the meantime, I'll be re-working my essays and discussing the state of Peace Corps Ghana.

I guess the whole goal of Peace Corps is to complete sustainable projects so this will be a good test.

A nice anecdote from my busy few days at site: During our second trip for wood, the driver, Patrick, a few laborors and I took a detour to visit a local waterfall. I absolutely loved the detour and the fact that none of the Ghanaians with which I went had ever seen the falls. Just before leaving, I was ushered over to a small area behind the waterfall and told that it was the meeting place of dwarves. I have heard stories from other volunteers about the invisible dwarves but I had never had the joy of hearing a first hand account.

Too much essay writing has sapped my blog writing reserves.

Love to all,

VBP and 2 years in

2009-09-18T08:46:00.000-07:00

Two years ago today, I got off the plane with 47 other Peace Corps trainees. There are now 30 other Peace Corps Volunteers in my group and I understand why Peace Corps service is two years long.

One week ago, George and Moro from Village Bicycle Project arrived in Bormase. Despite some minor mishaps, the week has been the best of my service hands down. Last Friday morning, roughly 55 of the 101 registered bicycle recipients showed up for a 7am meeting. Each one drew a number to determine which of the five, day-long sessions they would attend. The remaining 46 participants picked their respective numbers when they had a chance and we were set for the day.

From this meeting, I joined a yelling match at the school construction site. One community did their portion of community labor and were yelling about the distribution of work. I followed what I could of the Krobo chatter until I had to go wait for the truckload of bicycles to arrive. I spent a few minutes playing with my 4 month old neighbor Sweetie (her name is Esther but everyone calls her Swee-tee). When I heard a deep grumble down the road, I took the few steps that were needed for me to see down the road. As the truck approached, people spilled out of the bush cover and cheered to no end. By the time the truck stopped beside the church (the location of the sessions) there were at least forty people, bike recipients and otherwise, waiting and helping pull bikes off.

Patrick translated for each of the five sessions as bike recipients learned basic bike maintenance. They learned how to use spanners without damaging the bicycle. They learned to change a tire and how to patch a tube. They learned to check loose bearings and how to clean and oil a chain. At the end of each day, 20 new bike owners were released to the one Bormase road. With each day, the view from my front yard/dirt was more exciting.

One Tuesday, the headmaster from the primary school stopped by and asked for a meeting. Patrick and I went from the bike session to the school to see children teaching each other to ride their new bikes. When the headmaster left for summer break, funds weren't yet approved for the school improvement project. When he came back for the first day of the new term, over 100 cement blocks were sitting in front of the school. We discussed the plans for construction and the excitement that he and his staff shared was worth the work hands down.

As Patrick and I left, we saw children teaching their friends to ride a bike. Kids that couldn't ride a bike the day prior and had something so nice to call their own were eager to share it with friends. This was also well worth the work.

On Thursday, after our second to last session, Stephen had to patch a puncture before riding the 2 hours back to Asesewa. On the way, I rode my bike while he ran along, pushing his own from behind. I thought I'd help out by holding his handlebars while riding along. This seemed like a good idea until his bike started to veer away from me and I had to drop it. --Careful if squeamish-- When I dropped Stephen's bike, I had to put my sandal-clad foot down to catch my balance. In the tenth of a second that my foot was down, the handlebar of Stephen's bike landed on my big toe. It hurt but I biked on with clenched teeth. When I passed a cyclist going the opposite direction, I noticed that he was staring at my foot. I looked down and was sure that my band-aid was about to fall off. But I didn't have a band-aid on my toe. My big toenail had been ripped off and was flapping by a small bit of skin.

I'm OK now but was in a bit of shock for a moment. A little chunk of nail bed came away with the nail and I was bleeding quite a bit. My shower/dishes bucket became my foot soaking bucket. Stephen helped cut the nail away and we both tried to scrub away the clotted blood before realizing that the color difference was due to the depth of the cut. OUCH!!! I almost puked/passed out at that point.

Yesterday, we finished the bike project. Short of a few serious sneezing fits I've had in the past, I've never had so many people bless me in such a short period of time. I have never felt so good in Bormase. George and Moro left with a trunkful of plantains and yams.

I'm in Accra now, my toe feels good (looks awful) and I just had a great chat with a business school contact. Definitely straddling two worlds at the moment but absolutely loving it.

I will keep you all updated as things progress.

Love to all!!
Ira

All at once

2009-09-10T05:06:00.000-07:00

When I was getting advice about readjusting to American culture, I didn't think that I'd be doing so much of it while still in Ghana.

Last Friday, I met with chiefs and elders to discuss the proper approach for the school project. I realize that while I kept the prospective project secret from the village (in case it didn't come through in time) I may have also kept it out of my blog entries.

The 52 year old Bormase Roman Catholic Primary School still consists of it's original cement block building. The building is partitioned into two classrooms for Kindergarten through P6. Over 100 students learn either in this building or under trees or makeshift thatch structures. This recent proposal covers the cost of the construction of three additional classrooms. On Monday, Patrick and I came to Koforidua to purchase 30 bags of cement and 15 nineteen foot iron rods. I shelled out almost 1,000 cedis in one day and felt odd fitting the Obruni stereotype of having money and throwing it around building schools.

While Patrick and I were in Koforidua, 40 community members convened and worked throughout the day collecting sand to be used on cement block construction. Tuesday and Wednesday were for bock construction. Tomorrow, I'll shift gears and greet the Village Bicycle Project and the 101 bicycles that have been paid for by Bormase community members.

Most of next week will be spent in classes of 20, teaching basic maintenance to every new bike owner. The bead structure is still under construction and my first business school application is due in less than one month.

I ordered a transcript and had an official score reported to Columbia today. Talk about having a foot in two different worlds. I've been working on essays when not running around the village on errands.

I'm sending all remaining energy towards the implosion of the Rockies and the appearance of a Giants offense.
It's hectic now but SO worth it.

Will keep you all updated on the progress.

Love to all,
Ira

Fufu Awards

2009-09-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

After over a week with my fellow 2007-2009 Peace Corps Ghana Omnibus group (31 of our initial 48), the best way to sum up the time is with some highlights from our Fufu Awards. Our new Program and Training Officer Rob brought Fufu awards from his former post in Vanuatu. They're sort of like high school yearbook polls but funnier and more personal. Rob posted highlights from the 180 Fufu awards that were revealed during the conference and I've posted them below.

Most likely to:
• Take a calabash to a kegger – Gray
• Use Ghanaian English in the U.S. – Terri
• Design, sell, and wear her won Ghanaian line of clothes – Shawn Fox
• Still wear too much batik in America - Darren
• Have worms by COS – Daria
• Dress up like a guinea fowl for Halloween – Leanne
• Be a trophy wife - Katrina
• Use “I’m Irish!” excuse for drinking habits – Niall
• To be ticketed for “freeing” themselves in public – Jon
• Get lost on their COS trip and never make it home – Becka
• Eat dogs in America – Blake
• Be unrecognized by family at the airport - Chris
• Treat herself to a pedicure in America, give a pedicure in America, and date her pedicurist – Joy
• Try to take over the world – Carolyn
• Skip PC Conference sessions and sleep instead – Allison
• Feel threatened by other blondes in the U.S. –Caitlin
• Be rich and show it off – Ledor
• Bark like a seal when excited – Phil
• Always be a beach bum - Mandy
• Continue using Ghanaian hand gestures in America – Cheri
• Have the best foot tan lines – Erin
• Keep taking Lariam, not for the malaria, but for “the dreams dude.” – Will
• Succeed . . . with a mustache – Ira
• Have a nation-wide fan club upon the return home – Thuy
• Use the pickup line, “I lived in Africa” for the rest of his life – Jon
• Become a samurai warrior – Egan
• Stare awkwardly at you and then say, “thanks for the dance” – Ashley
• Request that all subordinates call him “Chief” - Larry

As you may have guessed, I rocked a sweet mustache for the conference. Gray and I ran into each other in Koforidua a few weeks before the conference and commented on each others unkempt facial scruff. For fun, we decided to manicure that scruff into a nice COS mustache. They were a hit for sure.

The conference focused on re-adjusting into American culture and the fast pace of life. Compared to previous conferences, this was amazing. The food and lodging was upgraded as a way of rewarding our hard work. We ate barracuda, shrimp and other tasty treats. At night, we let of steam at the hotel pool or on the beach. It was a nice head start at re-adjusting.

From the Peace Corps sanctioned event, many of us branched off onto an event of our own. All volunteers were invited to a beach hotel that was more Peace Corps speed. The rooms had sand floors and the beach had trash all over it. We enjoyed this place just as much as the previous, swank hotel. We used the faux-nerf football that I brought back from the USA to play football/volleyball on the beach court. We broke off into two teams and would simply throw the ball over the net in an attempt to make it un-catchable. It was kind of like anti-catch and it was incredibly fun. We spent our days playing cards when we were tired of football-volleyball and playing cards when physically exhausted. We are going to be very easy to please in the US.

On the last day of our time at the beach, a Lebanese ex-pat befriended a few from our group. Cheri was summoned from the football/volleyball court when Tanal started talking about his wakeboard boat. After two years of telling stories about water-skiing, Cheri was promised the opportunity to strut her stuff. The following morning, most of our group left the beach on their way to their respective sites. Cheri, Daria, Steve, Shawn and I waited for Tanal to make good on his word. I was skeptical until I saw the beautiful boat pull up just before 11am.

Cheri and Steve were incredibly impressive while I failed to even get up out of the water on my first series of attempts. Though I was frustrated, I was perfectly happy to see Cheri so happy and in her element. After I went, Tanal took a turn and wowed us all with back flips and other tricks. He also took the time to show us the 12 bathroom house he's having built beside the Volta River. Talk about a drastic change from live in the world of development.

I got a second try on the wakeboard and stood up on my second try. I felt like a baby learning to walk again but had an amazing time. Once I stood up for the first time, it was like second nature and I couldn't understand how it had been so difficult to figure out. Cheri took another turn on the slalom ski and looked as comfortable as she does waling down the street. Very nice to see.

As we finished too late to get a tro-tro back to Accra, Tanal and his driver (boat and car driver) David gave us a ride to Accra in a nice air conditioned car that took no more than half the time a tro would have. Talk about a head start on re-adjusting. I don't plan to spend my weekends on a wakeboard boat but I did have a nice time indeed.

While away from Bormase, my Small Project Assistance grant was funded by USAID so when I return to Bormase, we can start to work on the school improvement project that is about 50 years overdue. I can't wait!!!

Love to all.
Go Giants!!!!!

Ira

I little bit off

2009-08-20T06:07:00.000-07:00

My last entry suggested that nothing was really going on. I guess I'm just getting used to doing a bit more.

The day prior to my last entry, I went to visit my fellow volunteer Marcus and we went on a great hike to Tsibi, a bead village atop a mountain/big hill. The view was incredible and the beads were some of the best I've seen in Ghana. Another volunteer Chris is working on a sort of tourist book that will help draw attention to artisan villages in the Eastern and Volta regions. It was quite a day but somehow didn't strike me as worth writing about.

Since last week, I've been reading at site, farming a bit in the Moringa field (another harvest molded in the humid air) and feeling surprisingly inactive. When I first got here, if I went to farm, fetched water, watched clothes and helped a bit at the store it felt as though I'd led a full day. These days I'm collecting money for the Village Bicycle Project, dealing with the Hannah situation, making plans for other projects that need finishing, working on grad school essays and still doing all the things that used to make the day feel full. Somehow it's still slow.

This past week, I held our regional VAC meeting at the Kumasi Sub Office. The meeting went well as we had no serious problems in the region. Expecting as many as fifteen people, I got ten kilos of frozen chicken for a BBQ. We had seven people attend but did our best, eating chicken at the slightest pang of hunger.

On Tuesday, the 33 remaining volunteers from my training group will meet at Ada, on the beach down south. We will have our COS conference, discussing how to readjust to life in America while discussing the work we've done and Peace Corps as a whole.

We haven't had an event with all of our training group without the other groups also in attendance. 4 days and three nights at the beach sounds great. I should have pictures and stories to share during and/or after that.

Love to all
Ira

Little to report

2009-08-13T09:25:00.000-07:00

Life in Bormase is going well. Time is flying along and harvest season is here. I spent a full day de-husking maize with Dorothy and Stephen while Paul and John weeded. The bead center is on hold until more sand is delivered.

I've been focusing on business school apps of late. The time is quickly coming and with only a day or so per week with internet access, I want to have updates available when the electricity is there. Cranking away. So little time left, it's hard to believe

GO GIANTS!!!!

Love to all,
Ira

The next episode

2009-08-06T02:58:00.000-07:00

It truly feels as though I've been involved in a soap opera for the last week. It doesn't quite live up to the Nollywood (Nigerian Hollywood) movies that are shown on long bus trips but that's only because the week has lacked screaming and juju.

I got back to Bormase one week ago to learn that Dorothy had asked about the Keebler biscuits that had been taken. A word to potential thieves out there, if you want to steal money, don't also steal foreign food and share it with your friends!!! It seems that Hannah stole my biscuits (crackers) and shared them with her friends after taking my 130 Ghana Cedis in proposal money. One day after confronting Hannah about the theft and getting nowhere, we got her to admit that she took my money and my biscuits. However, she only admitted to taking 80 Ghana Cedis. Apparently she stole 80 Ghana Cedis, went to market, bought nothing and came back with 80 Ghana Cedis but can't account for the remaining 50 Cedis that is missing. Makes sense.

On Friday morning, after meeting with Hannah and getting a confession, Patrick, Hannah's father-in-law Samuel (one of the Bead Center carpenters) and I went to Asesewa to buy the lumber for further construction. We bought the necessary lumber and upon learning that nails were overpriced in Asesewa, Patrick and I went to Koforidua to buy iron sheets and nails. By the end of the day, all materials needed for the construction of the frame and roof were purchased and delivered to Bormase.

On Friday evening, after dinner, Dorothy and I went to see Hannah again in order to see her plan for making amends. She refused to admit that she had taken the full amount. The longer she denied it, the more upset I became. This is a woman to whom I've brought money making projects and gifts, only to have her take my money and lie to my face about it. When she told me that she wouldn't steal again, I asked how she planned to earn money in the future she knelt down in front of me, held on to the leg of my trousers and said "I beg, I won't come there again."

She didn't say how she planned to earn money, she doesn't work or farm currently and has had to send the twins to stay with their grandmother elsewhere. I would be happy to hear that she had a plan for earning money or reason for taking the money. I would even be receptive to having her admit that she had taken the whole sum. By the end of the night, Hannah and Samuel agreed to pay the remaining sum within four weeks. Dorothy and I left with not much accomplished. Dorothy has had several hundred Cedis stolen in the past and is quite convinced that Hannah was responsible. Unfortunately, there is no way to prove that Hannah took that money so I will get my money back while Dorothy's hard earned money is still missing.

On Saturday, great progress was made on the construction of the bead center. I played with children, helped when my help was needed. While I was making progress on a very exciting project, I wasn't able to fully enjoy it while this drama was going on. People kept asking my why Hannah stole my money, what would happen to her etc.

Over the next few days, Emmanuel coordinated for the police to come to Hannah's house twice. They came one morning to be told that Hannah was not in the house. Hannah came by our house when Dorothy and Emmanuel were away in order to ask Stephen (back for a visit) if he would beg Emmanuel not to call the police. By the afternoon, Hannah had left Bormase.

The police came the next morning at 5am. I was awakened in case they had to ask me any questions. They didn't ask questions but went to Samuel to question the family about Hannah's whereabouts. Nothing was accomplished.

Over the next few days, Dorothy brought any development to me and chatted about it for a bit. Emmanuel found out where Hannah had gone. A woman in the community knew that Hannah had taken Dorothy's money in the past and knew that the family with whom she stays had known about the money and had spent it with Hannah. The woman who told Dorothy wasn't willing to say it officially because she was scared of what might happen.

The frame and roof of the Bead Center were completed on Monday and Tuesday. Patrick and I walked all around the village in order to purchase a fowl. In Krobo tradition, if you pay to have a carpenter build you a roof, you must slaughter a fowl to ensure that while you've sent their souls up to the roof, that they'll also come down safely.

A group of us poured libations, ate fufu and celebrated the great accomplishment and great addition to the community.

On Wednesday, Dorothy called from Sekesua to have me come to the Police station. I walked my white self into the Police station with all eyes on me. I was told that if I pressed charges, the case would go to trial and if convicted, Hannah would spend from 5 to 25 years in prison. There is no way that I'll press charges!! The whole time, people in the village were talking about how the family should involve the police so that Hannah could spend a night in jail and be released. I'm not sure if my presence made the police pay closer attention to the laws (not being able to imprison people without a charge) than they might otherwise.

This morning, Emmanuel called to tell Dorothy that if the money is brought to me, I should tell Hannah that she and the family now owe 40 Ghana Cedis more for the police fees. I also won't have anything to do with that part. My being robbed somehow put me in the middle of a heated family/village squabble. Nobody seems to blame me or hold a grudge but it's a very bittersweet situation.

The money should be returned by tomorrow and the Bead Center will be completed as planned.

Bittersweet indeed,

Love to all.
Ira

Groundbreaking developments

2009-07-30T06:28:00.000-07:00

One week ago, Patrick came to meet me in Koforidua. We bought twenty bags of cement and twelve galvanized pipes in order to start the construction of Bormase's community bead center!!!

Several members of the bead group came to the work site on Monday and construction was started. Robert Mugabe (not sure why he likes to go by this name) showed up to give instructions and to ensure that the foundation was laid properly and that the pipes were set at appropriate height for the construction of the roof.

School children took shifts collecting sand and delivering it with head-pans and buckets until enough sand was available for the construction of cement blocks. Each child received a pencil in exchange for the work. It might sound terrible that we used the labor of 60 children in exchange for maybe three dollars worth of pencils but in the end, everybody benefited greatly. The children will take arts and crafts time to make traditional Krobo beads. The gift of a pencil was incredibly well received considering that the culture allows any adult to tell any children to do pretty much any chore at any time.

During the day, some of the workers took breaks to look at my MBA school catalogs and ask about the buildings and cars in various pictures. Trying to explain NYC is virtually impossible. A recent Secondary School graduate who studied building technology looked at some of the beautiful architecture at Georgetown University and walked me through how the roof wasn't made out of iron sheets but is made of a different material. Quite an experience.

We also took breaks to play with the various party favor-style toys that I brought back from the USA. Those small enclosed plastic mazes with a ball inside were a hit. Several men would race each other repeatedly, seeing who could get the little metal ball to the center first. Propellers on sticks were flying through the air throughout the day. Everything went great!! Rather than pushing to get work done, I was hanging out with friends while the worked on a project about which they were very excited.

The contractor showed up today to build cement bricks. Tomorrow, Patrick and I will travel with Mugabe to Asesewa to purchase wood for the roof. Construction of the roof will start on Saturday.

When I wasn't working, I turned 27 years old. Cheri came to meet me in Koforidua where we had beer and Fufu to celebrate. We walked a few miles to a small waterfall yesterday and got back to my site to see that some of my American food had been taken from my kitchen. I wasn't too worried about the peanut butter crackers but worried that somebody would go into my space when I was away.

This morning, I double checked my wallet to see that 130 Ghana Cedis of proposal money was missing. We have targeted a prime suspect and taken dirt samples form some footprints in my room and fingerprints from the peanut butter cookie wrappers. Seriously though, we thoroughly questioned Hannah, the mother of Atta and Lahweh. She has a habit of lurking around the house whenever Dorothy goes to market. Several hundred cedis have gone missing from Dorothy's bedroom in the past so she recently changed her locks. I never lock my room but hadn't come across any problems in the past. I've now locked up my house and will see how things stand when I get back to the village.

Love to all.
Ira

I'm Lovin' it!

2009-07-23T04:36:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not plugging any golden arches. In fact, I was very happy to avoid McDonald's while in America. I still gained about 12 pounds!!!

Most of my first day back in Bormase was spent sleeping. I didn't realize how tired I was until I woke at 6:30, ate an egg sandwich, napped until 10:45, visited a few neighbors and then napped from a bit after noon until 3:45!!! No wonder I can't sleep at my usual bedtime of 8pm.

Life back in Bormase has been great. Michael and Patience are two new children at the house. They really live next door but after watching 5 year old Michael take care of his toddling sister for long enough, Dorothy unofficially adopted the two kids. They spend the day at our house while their parents farm etc.

Kicking a ball around, playing with bubbles and having incomprehensible conversations with small boys and small girls have been my favorite activities. Handing over earnings from the American bead bonanza was great too. Great thanks to all who helped the cause.

Today, Patrick is coming to meet me and we will purchase the cement for the community bead center. I can't wait!

Love to all
Ira

Adaptability

2009-07-17T03:46:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a long time. I was in America!! I had constant access to internet and very full days but didn't take the time to write a blog entry. I was amazed at how easy it was to readjust.

Lugging 80 lbs of beads around in a broken suitcase made travel a bit difficult but balancing that with the efficient subway system and comfortable weather and Ghanaian travel is still far more strenuous. Getting the beads to the airport was one of the most physically demanding things I've ever done.

There is no way that I'll be able to summarize my time at home. I guess that's accurate with every blog entry. I can never share everything so I just crank out what comes readily to mind.

Megan and I wandered around NYC for a few days and had a great time catching up. Rob used the flexibility and perks of his new internship to fly from Chicago to New York for a 12 hour visit. I paid a visit to Columbia, met up with my friend Jay and had dinner and drinks with a number of Rob's classmates from Michigan. I was able to get a sense of business school life while getting to try all of the foods and drinks that I have missed so desperately. Staying up until what was 7am in my body even helped get my circadian rhythm back where it should be.

A night on Long Island started the family explosion that would be the next week straight. Steak, wine and amazing talks with a family I've missed very much kept the influx of joy going strong. I even got to play guitar hero (I know it came out well before I left for Peace Corps but I'm behind the times).

Dinners and planning and tennis and dinners and stories and beads and Jan Jan's service and stories and a bonfire.

So much happened in Vermont that I can't even begin to summarize. It was amazing meeting new people while catching up with others. I've finally hit the age at which I marvel at how old my baby cousins have become. A nice addition to that sensation is the realization of how amazing all of my cousins are and have become.

Visits to University of Virginia, Duke, UNC, Georgetown, Camden Yards and many great eateries helped sum up a spaztacular road trip with my Dad.

I caught up with my friend Sara and wandered NYC more. I ate the best steak in the history of the world. I left yesterday afternoon and got next to no sleep on the plane. One of my two checked bags was somehow lost during my direct flight (I must proudly say that after arriving with bags of 68 and 44 lbs respectively, I was able to rearrange to 50,0 and 49.5 lbs with a heavy backpack in one try!)

I'll be in Accra until at least tomorrow. I'm exhausted and need to sleep but I'm very ready and happy to be back.

Love to all
Ira

MJ

2009-06-29T02:19:00.000-07:00

When I woke up on my last full pre-vacation morning in Bormase, I turned on my shortwave radio and immediately heard the news that the unparalleled Michael Jackson had passed away.

My plan for the day was to help Patrick and his family complete any last bead work that they hoped to send with me to America. For some serious cultural exchange, I got to his house at 8am and Patrick, Lizzie, Gladys and Tetteh sat on the floor stringing beads while listening to every Michael Jackson song on my iPod via portable speakers. Patrick had heard the news and knew the impact but Tetteh and Lizzie had no idea who they were listening to. Naturally, as is all but automatic when listening to Michael Jackson, everybody was bobbing and humming to the music within minutes. What better cultural exchange is there than making traditional Krobo jewelry while listening to music that changed America, race, music and the rest of the world?

When the bead work was complete and my room was packed, I was ready to leave for the USA. When thinking of coming back, I couldn't help but notice that during the first 25 years and three months of my life, I spent about one cumulative month outside the USA. Up until yesterday I had been outside the US for over 21 months straight. I was ready for a shock.

I left Bormase with an unbelievable amount of luggage. Gifts and beads provided most of the weight but I also wanted to clear my house of all items that won't fit in a hiking backpack for post-Peace Corps travels.

The journey to Accra went well, the tro did the work of carrying my luggage. When I got out of the tro with my hiking pack, backpack, duffel bag and Ghana Gucci (we volunteers use this term for the huge synthetic bags you can find in most China towns) I was ready to make the short walk to the office. The walk is the equivalent of maybe five blocks but naturally, it started raining just before I got out of the tro.

I hadn't distributed the weight properly so I had all sixty pounds of beads in the crappy cheap bag that I was carrying like a briefcase. The rain got harder and the stares more confused as I shuffled fifty meters at a time before stopping and standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the rain. I was convinced at the time that this brief five block walk was the most physically demanding thing that I had ever done in my life. Of course that can't be true but I was wiped out and soaked when I got to the office.

I had a fun night out with Gray, Erin, Travis and Marcus (a lucky group of friends to have in Accra) and the next morning was on my way to the USA (re-organizing my 80kg of luggage took some time and bribery).

No sleep, two meals and plenty of movies got me through the eleven hour direct flight with ease. I can't believe how easy eleven hours of travel has become. A few hours at baggage claim was a bit more of a pain but at about 7pm EST, I saw my beautiful big sister Megan for the first time in nearly two years!!! Chatting away felt normal maybe five minutes later.

The two of us were a site with Megan lugging a few bags and myself with a huge broken suitcase atop my head. Fortunately, it's New York City and nobody seemed surprised.

A taxi ride with and Ivorian driver, a walk through Manhattan, a big meal at ESPNzone while watching the Yankees play the Mets (what great timing) a long walk on a 70 degree NY night and a hot shower brought my 22 hour day to an end. Burning eyes, a comfortable hotel bed and no ability to sleep brought me this blog entry five hours later. Who knows that we'll do today but the options are endless and I'm definitely up for it. 20 lb weight gain, attempt number two has begun!!!

Love to all
Ira

Can't compare

2009-06-18T06:10:00.000-07:00

Cheri and I are safely back in Ghana. The trip didn't go quite according to plan but we've grown quite accustomed to unfulfilled plans in Ghana.

From the hippo lake, Cheri and I went to our hut and enjoyed a day of laundry and relaxation. Just for kicks, I took a long stick and did my best to take a large black plastic bag from the crocodiles water hole. Just as I was thinking how lame it was that the crocodiles didn't react at all, the largest of the five whipped around and grabbed the end of the stick. I was quite far away and very much out of danger but I was given a first hand look of why these animals are so dangerous. I got a pretty huge adrenaline rush to boot.

That evening, we returned to Banfora and sought out bus scheduling for the next day. We caught an early bus to Bobo, wandered around the the day and eventually went out to a live drumming concert. The show was quite brief but not lacking in enthusiasm. When the artists left the stage, a number of them came over to chat with a fellow hotel patron of ours. After not too long, we were headed to accompany some of the musicians to a private party. We arrived a bit late and joined a large circle mixed with musicians on one side and party guests on the other. Each group consisted of about a dozen members and our hotel group of six joined the musicians.

Immediately, platters of food and cups of palm wine were passed around. We snacked and drank while watching drummers, flutists and xylophonists increase their energy with each song. Musicians traded places and instruments while many from the group began a beautiful and incredibly fast paced dance party in the center of courtyard in which we sat. The music and dancing continued to speed up until some members of our group took a turn and proved the difficulty of the others' dance moves by grinding the pace to a halt. We looked foolish but got a great response while thoroughly enjoying ourselves. I hope to upload a brief video from the evening if only to give a slight glimpse.

We made it back to the hotel by 2 am and were at the bus station at 6am. What better way to start a twelve hour travel day?

We reached Bamako in Mali just as the sun was setting. We struggled to locate a decent hotel and ended up staying at the Catholic Mission. Good conversation and some small small wandering were all we could muster up as we did not yet have our bearings and on a night when Ghana defeated Mali 2-0 in World Cup qualifiers in Bamako, we didn't want to take any risks.

The following day, we met up with some fellow PCVs from Mali and Mauritania. The automatic camaraderie that Peace Corps service creates is undeniable. Everyone we met was very welcoming and unbelievably helpful. A group of maybe twenty of us (many traveled to see the football match) spent the night having beers and trading Peace Corps stories. As usual, representatives from each country harped a bit about the unique difficulties of their respective sites. Ghana has the beach and fresh fruit. Burkina Faso has steak sandwiches, yogurt, cheese and good transportation. Mali has amazing culture, rock climbing and nice silver. Mauritania has sand and a completely alcohol free host country. They can pretty much shut down any complaint about Peace Corps service. They got what I pictured when I learned I was coming to Africa. They have mud huts, limited food and the need to go on overnight alcohol smuggling missions on donkey cart whenever they want to have a party. We had a great night and again got to sleep at around 2am, arrived at the bus station at 6am and slept for most of our twelve hour bus ride to Mopti.

By the time we reached Mopti, we had learned about the dissolution of parliament in Niger and about the travel restriction from June 2 through June 9. On June 7 I learned that the restriction was changed to be only June 7-9. On June 10, I learned that the restriction was postponed to June 14. Our vacation had to end on June 14 so after two nights in Mopti (including a nice pirogue ride on the Niger River) we realized that we could only get to Togo if we traveled all the way South through Burkina Faso and Ghana. We traveled for the better part of 50 hours in order to spend a nice relaxing day on the beach in Togo. Our trip to Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger, Benin and Togo became Burkina Faso, Mali, Burkina Faso, Ghana and Togo. It was amazing and completely humbling.

We were reminded of the difficulties of travel in the third world. When asking about the travel restrictions for Niger, a Peace Corps employee told us that since a hostage was just recently killed and Al Qaeda knows that the USA doesn't negotiate with terrorists, we would probably not get kidnapped crossing the border but it wasn't a good idea. Many volunteers complain about the strict, overbearing restrictions that are sometimes placed over us. When the rules keep us from traveling into countries with active terrorist organizations or strong coup potential, I can't help but be thankful.

Love to all
Ira

QWERTY

2009-06-08T07:56:00.000-07:00

Same day but on a normal keyboard. I'm now in the Peace Corps Mali office and can use a keyboard that doesn't make me feel like I'm learning to type all over again. I don't know how hunt and peckers can do it.

Cheri and I went from Ouagadougou through Bobo Dialasso to Banfora. From Banfora we went to Tengrila in order to visit what guide books and Peace Corps Burkina Faso volunteers said would be a nice lake.

We arrived in the late morning and were greeted by a largy man with small tight dreadlocks who introduced himself as Souleyman. He set us up in our round mud hut and then showed us around his place, playing xylophone and drums like it was his job (it turns out that it is his job). He showed us his crocodile pond which held five crocodiles ranging from four to six feet in length. The housing compound had a monstrous Mango tree in the center and had plenty of tables, chairs and hammocks for relaxing. After getting settled, Cheri and I wandered to the nearby lake. We were scheduled for a 6am pirogue tour the following morning but thought that it would be nice to get a lay of the land. On the way, a nice young Burkinabe peddled his bike beside us and chatted in broken enlish. We chatted back in broken but improving French while working towards the lake. The three of us spent most of that afternoon sitting lakeside and chatting, each of us learning much desired foreign language skills.

I had to leave the qwerty keyboard and Im back on azerty so again slow.

The last morning in Tengrila Cheri and I were scheduled to take a pirogue ride at 6am. Cell phone malfunctions allowed us to sleep until half past six and we hurriedly left the hut to find out guide. He was nowhere to be seen so we continued toward the lake. Our Burkinabe buddy met us along the way and ended up guiding us on a pirogue to within twenty feet of a family of hippos. I was initially nervous but saw a man standing waist deep fishing only 20 meters away. What a great way to start the day.

I am impatient with this keyboard so will sign off. Our travel plans have been thwarted a bit due to an Al Qaeda presence in Northern Mali and the dissolution of parliament in Niger. Further updates when we know more.

I Mali now, back through Ouagadougou due to travel restrictions tomorrow.

Love to all:

Ira

le blanc

2009-06-08T01:25:00.000-07:00

Now that Cheri and I have left Ghana, we have turned from Siliminga and Blefono respectively to Le Blanc. The big difference now is that neither of us can wow the offenders by rattling of something clever in the local language. The two of us share maybe one hundred words in French but have been using the numerous hours of travel to pick up some extra phrases via downloaded lessons on the ipod.

I am on a French keyboard and not feeling patient enough to catch up on every part of out trip but I will offer some highlights.

From Accra we went to Kumasi for a night. The next morning we joined a 7 hour bus to Bolgatanga of the Upper East Region. We stayed at the house of a local radio DJ, drank pito and attended the going away party of a fellow PCV.

From Bolga we went to Ouagadougou where we unexpectedly spent three nights. A day wandering the newly re=opened Grande Marchez, an evening with an Irovian friend of Cheris, a makeshift picnic in a very dry but still nice forest. Many many steak sandwiches and we left for Banfora. We got in a bit late so had a meal and planned the next adventure.

The next morning, we tried to rent bicyles and check out a lake nearby. In trying to ensure that we had helmets, we clearly misled out hosts and wer subsequently led on a long walk through busy, moto filled, muddy streets until we met a market seller who had sold large straw hats that would be much more appropriate for a rice paddy than for a long bikerid. The mud, traffic and lack of head protection made us feel fine about scrapping the bike idea and taking a taxi.

The keyboard has worn me out so I will catch you all up on the rest next time. Now in Banfora then to Mopti then Niamey. Break out the map.

Love to all
Ira

Travel time

2009-05-28T17:20:00.000-07:00

While packing my things for an upcoming West African adventure, I thought that I'd pack up some of the things that I no longer need in Ghana. Since I'm heading back the the USA shortly after I return from tro'ing through the third world, I wanted to start clearing out those things that I won't want to travel with later.

This process was surprisingly emotional!! I won't be leaving for around six months but the process of packing bags and emptying my house really started getting to me. This isn't like leaving for college or even moving to Ghana for two years. When I leave here, I can guarantee that I'll never see or hear from many of my closest friends and neighbors. I definitely hope to come back to Ghana when I can but there's no telling what can happen in the time it takes for that hope to become a possibility. We'll see how it goes when the time comes.

As for now, Cheri and I have begun what will be a five country (six if Ghana counts) West African tour. The adventures began early when our scheduling continued to be delayed. Making a schedule while working in development is asking for trouble. We were going to leave in December but we were put on standfast during the election. We pushed the trip back to March but work got in the way. We finally purchased our five country Visa the week of my GMAT but between that time and now, we have each had projects funded, started and completed. When quality work can actually be completed, everything else must take a back seat.

Unfortunately, our Visas were single entry and lasted only 2 months. They expire only four days into our current itinerary. After some haggling and borderline begging, we were able to extend our Visas but not before paying half the original price.

We each rushed to get some last minute work done. We got proposals submitted so our time away can work for us and the waiting game won't seem quite so bad. We got to the tro station and were quickly ushered to a Kumasi tro by a very eager man. Cheri and I know to be wary of anyone who openly offers to help but I thought we could handle the situation.

We were rushed to a nearly full tro and assured that it was full and leaving ASAP. Of course it wasn't. Accustomed to waiting, we paid for our seats and sat. Twenty minutes later, the car was about full and the driver had a hard time starting the engine. Angry about being dooped and feeling impatient, I suggested that we bail on this car and take a "fast car." A fast car has air conditioning and doesn't make many stops along the way. We demanded our money back but naturally did not get our way immediately. Those seated in the car became insistant that we stay. The assured us that we would leave immediately. Of course they just didn't want us to cause further delay.

The mate and driver of the tro refused to give us money for our tickets since they were not the issuers of said ticket. We were told to give the ticket back so that they could sell it to the next passengers and get our money back. No money and no ticket in hand? No thanks!!! We made a bit of a scene but finally got our money back. We got into a nice air conditioned van, away from the tro full of hate that we had just created. If we're about to travel through some of the poorest countries in the world via public transport, we might as well get through familiar territory in comfort.

We're now in Kumasi, completing some last minute work in order to ensure max relaxation during our vacation. I promise to take pictures and to figure out why my camera won't upload them.

Love to all.
Also, thank you to Cheri's mom Jill for a wonderful visit, exceptional meals and great conversation.

Ira

Krobo Drama

2009-05-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

I mentioned recently that Lydie and Maku have moved home to their respective family homes. It seems that Lydie was stealing money and food from the house store. She would take rice, sardines and other food items to school and feed her friends at lunch.

Since Dorothy doesn't keep very detailed books, she did not know about the problem for what seems like quite a while. She noticed that the till would be low when Lydie and Maku were left at home but I guess she wasn't ready to accuse them of stealing. One day, she found that 65 Ghana Cedis had been taken and that a bag of new clothes was in the girls' room. Since then, I have not seen the girls. Bad news!!

When discussing the issue, Dorothy told me that whenever she's ready to complain about her problems, she thinks of them as a load of trash that she has to take the the dump. She knows that any time she would arrive at the dump, she would see plenty of her neighbors arriving at the same time, dumping much larger loads.

When at market last week, Dorothy heard of a woman who had fallen ill. When the woman went to her preferred juju man, he told her that he knew that she was keeping a secret and that should would not get better until she came clean. It turned out that the woman had been having affairs with many neighbors. Sh came clean to her husband and the husband quickly contacted the five men and demanded that they each pay 4,000 GHana Cedis (when telling the story, Dorothy used the old currency and said forty million which sounds better). As of the end of the day, only one man had been able to pay 200 Ghana Cedis. I told Dorothy that this punishment was far different than what would happen in the US. When infidelity comes to light, it isn't common for the offending party to stay with their husband/wife while the person they cheated with pays the family. Unfortunately, I honestly believe that there would be more infidelity in America if things worked this way. If your wife cheats on you with 5 men, you will make 20,000 dollars!!! Terrible but I'm sure people would take that opportunity every day.

When chatting about this story with Patrick, I learned of a different, more unbelievable story that had been floating around Krobo land. A neighboring community has a weekly market day on Thursdays. The market site sits beside a river so many families travel to the market by canoe or boat. Apparently, the wife of a local fisherman had been using the market as a weekly opportunity to visit a mystery lover. The identity of the man was found out and friends of the husband told him what was going on. The guilty party turned out to be a friend of the husband. The husband tried to play the bigger man and visited the friend, telling him to put a stop to the affair. The very next week, the wife of this bigger man stuck to her weekly schedule and went to visit the friend of her husband. Trusting neither his wife nor his friend, the husband paid a visit to his own juju man during the week so as the story goes, the philandering man and her lover became stuck together during the act of copulation. I have seen this happen with dogs but have never even heard of such a thing happening with people.

Apparently, people heard of the unfortunate predicament and went to tell the husband. Unfazed, the man went to his friends house and demanded 1,000 Ghana Cedis payment. Without payment, he would not visit his juju man and have the curse reversed. The now former friend paid and the pair were released. As I sat, doubting the story but enjoying it nonetheless, a fellow audience member must have overheard my thoughts when he asked "what did they do about food?" They had been stuck for over 12 hours. "The man's penis became larger than my thigh" Patrick shared with undying sincerity. He said that naturally the pair were not worried about food.

Who need Jerry Springer?

On another, more serious and very appreciative note, my PCPP has been fully funded!!! The last time I checked, over 1100 dollars were needed. That was only 5 days ago!!! Thanks to everyone who contributed or who shared the link to the webpage. I will keep you all updated as the project continues.

Love to all!
Ira

A small small police chase

2009-05-19T07:15:00.000-07:00

On my way to Bormase from Accra, I was marveling at my luck regarding travel. I had just spent a few days getting work done on the office computers and I was tired and not looking forward to waiting around for tros. At each stop, I got one of the last remaining seats in the car that I needed and I was making great time.

I got to Odumase and saw that no car was there. I thought that my luck had run out when the first mate of the Sekesua tro saw me and had me join the last remaining seat. Sandwiched between to healthily fed Ghanaian women, I cranked up a Radiolab podcast on my ipod and was enjoying the ride.

After about five minutes, I head honking from a car behind ours and a great amount of commotion. Normally, any approaching car will honk as a way of notifying anyone near by. A driver hearing the honk will let the approaching car know if it is safe to pass or if a car is approaching in the opposite direction. This time, our driver sped up. I took out my one working headphone and could only pick up a few of the manically blabbered Krobo words that came from every direction.

One word that was unmistakable and ubiquitous in the chatter was "polisi." Then, while frequently looking out his window, the driver pulled off the main road and onto a small bush road going in the opposite direction. "Polisi" was quickly replaces with "Dasi!!," "Mini sane?" and "I kpa mo pee, dasi!!." Stop, Why?, I beg you to Stop!! came from all seats in the car as we sped over exposed roots and potholes. The driver kept looking behind him and then cut across compound courtyards and through bush paths before slowly pulling around a small house and sidling up close to one wall.

The clamor was quickly replaced with hushing and then silence. What the hell was going on?!?!?! The driver quickly got out of the car and disappeared. We sat in silence for several minutes before a police jeep pulled across the space in front of us and stopped next to our tro.

Yelling ensued and inquiries were made in regards to the location of the driver. Amused, the population of the community spent more time asking me where I was from and how I liked Ghana. Children waved and laughed while hollering "Blefono" whenever I was within earshot. I got great reactions when I spoke the most basic Krobo.

Within fifteen minutes, the driver had returned and we were on our way. I gathered that the driver had tried to duck the standard one Ghana Cedi bribe. Instead, I think that he and the mate paid a much heftier bribe and were allowed to move on.

In the end, I made great time on my journey home and I got to experience my first police chase. I love this place!!

Love to all,
Ira

Checkers with chess pieces

2009-05-14T09:07:00.000-07:00

While Dorothy was away at market yesterday, Eva and I were the only two in the house. Maku and Lydie have had disagreements with the parental units and have moved back to the homes of their respective bio-moms. More on that later.

As is usual for a Wednesday, a number of Bormase youths came by the house during Dorothy's absence. While David and Felix were hanging out, I thought that I'd break out the chess set that I had made (a former PCV lived amongst wood workers and had a set made). While Eva, David and Felix expressed interest in learning to play chess, all had given up by the time I explained the pawn, rook and knight. Instead of continuing to learn, we used the chess pieces to play checkers on the beautiful paper and sharpie drawn board that I made.

While playing, I thought of how appropriate a distinction I was seeing between chess and checkers. Chess clearly takes more understanding and planning than does checkers. However, both games can be played with more success as you learn to look ahead one, two or preferably many moves. I feel as though the difference is very similar to the approach of my neighbors in Bormase.

Anyone can see that if you plant maize or cassava when the rain starts, it will grow and eventually you can harvest and earn money. Very few people in the village take a step back, think of what ELSE they can do and how a different approach might benefit them more. The benefit might not be immediate but it may be far greater than that of charging straight ahead and doing what you know will work.

While playing checkers, it was very common for my competitors to get a piece to the other end and have it 'kinged' without using it again for several moves. Rather than gaining this distinct advantage and taking advantage of it, David and Felix would leave the piece at my end of the board and start again with a new piece, working towards a new goal altogether.

Unfortunately, the school system teaches students to memorize and regurgitate information in order to ensure the necessary 39 percent passing grade. There is no incentive for thinking creatively or taking a different approach. It's not uncommon to ask a student a question only to hear them recite a definition verbatim until they forget a single word. Once there is a roadblock, they stop. The memorized definition does not quickly change to an ad lib definition, it just stops.

Akwaaba Ghana.

More next time, I'm short on time.
Love to all and thanks to all who have contributed to my PCPP!

Ira

Moringa Status

2009-05-02T05:04:00.000-07:00

This topic will deserve many more posts as the months roll along but for now I'll only give a brief update.

Those same trees that are pictured in previous posts are now bushy and almost out of control. I harvested my first batch of leaves this past week and I'm not sure how I'll be able to stay on top of everything. I only have one room for leaf drying and that room is the only one in my home that has any serious air flow. I spent the other day laying on a mat beneath my drying moringa leaves. I love the smell but as the leaves dry, small pieces of debris fall through the net onto my sweaty self.

The problem of having too much Moringa to harvest is a good one to have but I'm still not too sure what I'll do. For this first harvest, I simply trimmed the tallest and bushiest trees. There wasn't much of a noticeable difference until I tried to spread the leaves across my makeshift drying net. I'll make it work. One of my closest neighbors now has 6 months off before starting High School so maybe I can work out a wholesale price for leaf powder and he can use any profits towards his education. That's my first thought. It seems as though I'll have plenty of time during which to think of how to distribute the incoming product.

All for now.
Love to all,

Ira

Bormase Invitational

2009-04-27T04:50:00.000-07:00

Around one year ago, I started work on a proposal related to a HIV/AIDS related football tournament. Many factors contributed to the delay of the project implementation but yesterday, at long last, the project was completed.

Cheri and Travis came to Bormase in order to help with the process. On Friday, football teams from Bormase Huenya, Bormase, Sekesua and Agbeli Tsum arrived in Bormase for HIV/AIDS education. I had played with Bormase and against Sekesua but many of the 70 attendees were new acquaintances. Using several exercises and lessons from the GrassRoot Soccer curriculum, Cheri, Travis, Patrick the translator and I took these 15-30 year old young men through the day. The balance of note taking and field based drills helped the necessary repetition seem less obvious.

We covered statistics, preventative measures, basic facts and de-stigmatization during the 9am-3pm session. Of course, we were working on Ghana time so players started trickling in at 9 but the full group hadn't formed until nearly 11am. The players began the day in comfortable cliques and refused to share their thoughts. By the end, rival teams were integrating and laughing together while playing working through educational games. I was about as nervous for project as I was for the GMAT. I'll admit that I spent far more time preparing for the test but the number of potential obstacles and problems facing related to this project created a much different feel.

I scheduled to have a tro-tro meet us at the football field at 9am on Saturday morning. Any interested players would be shuttled to the clinic in Sekesua. The tro showed up at 10am and a full car was headed to the clinic by 11am. Unfortunately, the clinic only had 3 test kits and there are nearly twenty players waiting. I had been told that the clinic would be able to help but I made the error of expecting them to have the proper equipment. Using some remaining funds from the proposal, I added to the already high tro fare (it's strange suddenly have such an influx of funds that MUST be spent after a year and a half of shoestring living). A small group stayed in the tro while we drove 45 minutes to Asesewa, picked up 60 new tests and drove 45 minutes back. The tournament was scheduled to start at 2pm and we were arriving back at the clinic at around noon. Unfortunately, several players had come and gone by the time we arrived. At the end of the day, 45 very nervous young men knew for sure whether or not they were HIV positive.

The final shuttle of players arrived at the field at 2pm and few players were around. By 2:45, coaches from each of the four teams had shown up and drawn numbers to decide the schedule. Sekesua and Bormase (the two favorites) would play the first match while Bormase Huenya and Agbeli Tsum would play the second match. Due to the late start, the matches would have 35 minute halves and draws would be decided by penalty kicks with no overtime. All coaches agreed and the first match was underway by 3pm.

Fans trickled in as the game was beginning. Sekesua dominated possession early and after a Bormase defender blatantly tackled a Sekesua striker in the box, Sekesua took a 1-0 lead on perfectly placed penalty shot.

Bormase drew even early in the second half on an incredible individual effort. A Bormase striker reached a bounding ball just ahead of the Sekesua keeper and managed to head the ball through the keepers outstretched hands and into the net. Sekesua dominated possession for the remainder of the match and narrowly missed capitalizing on several opportunities. With time running down, Bormase had one last opportunity and from the corner of the 18 yard box, a near perfect strike narrowly missed the mark as it struck the corner where the bamboo post and bamboo crossbar met.

Both coaches and the referee approached me and told me that they had decided to play overtime and decide the winner. Again, I explained that there would be no overtime because of time constraints. It would go directly to a shootout.

Hundreds of spectators flooded the field and tightly gathered around the box as the shootout began. The first shooter from each team scored easily and received uproarious applause. The Sekesua goalkeeper saved Bormase's second attempt and Sekesua took a 2-1 lead. Bormase's young keeper stepped up the the challenge and saved the third shot from Sekesua's confident squad. A headlong dive to the lower left corner by the teen aged keeper resulted in a beautiful save and ensuing pandemonium. Bormase's fourth shooter blasted his shot over the crossbar, Sekesua's fifth followed with a composed and accurate effort that ended the match that many players and fans expected to see as Sunday's final match.

Bormase Huenya and Agbeli Tsum played through drizzles and approaching darkness to an uneventful 1-0 win. The skies opened up as the match came to an end and people scattered to any available zinc roof.

Sunday's matches were scheduled to begin at 2pm. As is to be expected but not appreciated, the first match got underway at 4pm. Two 20 minute halves gave Bormase and their St. Ignatius College Preparatory uniforms third place and allowed enough time for the final.

To the surprise of many, Agbeli Tsum took an early 1-0 lead. Sekesua dominated position and showed superior skills as they drew even before half-time. The score line for the second half was more indicative of the match-up and Sekesua walked away as champs with a 4-1 win.

Just before dark, awards were given to each team. Unfortunately, the ball that Bormase was to win had been kicked into the bush during the final match and could not be found. In an on-the-fly decision, I decided that Bormase would take no prize and try to find the ball the following day. I could not send a visiting team away with nothing. Naturally, I received complaints last night and this morning from the team. Why did first place get this while we got nothing? Why did we not play overtime?

I explained the situation and after checking the bush, Bormase had it's prize but no fewer complaints. In the end, many people received much needed education while hundreds enjoyed an eventful weekend. The results of the program exceeded my expectations and I'm very pleased.

Next in line will be a massive harvest of flourishing Moringa farm. Coming soon will be the construction of a much needed Community Bead Center. Please take a look at the following link if you're interested in contributing.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=641-263

Love to all!!
Ira

Just because you can doesn't mean that you should

2009-04-20T07:41:00.000-07:00

I've grown so accustomed to trying new things and living in sub-standard conditions that I occasionally find myself coping with situations that should not be acceptable.

Living with a dog in a house in the bush makes housekeeping difficult. I've never been the biggest stickler in regards to the cleanliness of my personal space. In Bormase, when the wind blows, dust flies through my windows and into every corner of every room. Kua is constantly tracking dirt through the house. When I take my bucket bath and walk across the dirt courtyard in my shower shoes, I inevitably track more dirt into my living quarters. The mice in my ceiling and the spiders in the corners work ceaselessly in what seems to be an effort at diversifying my mess. Why should I sweep every day when the same amount of dirt will show up the very next morning?

In order to avoid GI issues and possible other ailments, it is highly advisable that I filter my drinking water. Of course I filter my drinking water. I don't think I'll ever get complacent in regards to stomach issues. My health has been mostly good while in Ghana. Those issues that I have run across have not been due to unclean water. However, since I use my water barrel as a water catchment system and am constantly filtering rain water, my filter gets very dirty in short order. In order to properly clean the filter, I have to remove the ceramic candle filter wands and submerse them in boiling water. I then have to scrub the slime and other filth from both candles before returning them to their home inside the blue plastic filter. As long as I filled the filter before bed and after making breakfast, I would normally have drinking water whenever I needed it.

This past weekend, I traveled north to Tamale in order to celebrate Cheri's birthday. Cheri set up the event in such a way that the group in attendance could hang out at a swimming pool during the day and eat dog meat for dinner. Unfortunately, the swimming pool was closed on the proposed day so we were left with dog as the main event. Five of us went to the "chop bar," or culinary establishment so we could order the food. We were all excited in theory. Many of our friends had eaten dog previously and raved about it. I ate cat in Accra and when it was handed to me in kebab form, I didn't think twice.

While waiting to place our order, we saw several dogs led into the establishment by chain leashes. We didn't see any of the dogs slaughtered or mistreated but the illusion of eating just any old meat was completely gone. If I had to see cows led to the slaughter before eating a steak or burger, the experience would be different from going through the drive-through but this was different. A man passed with a large metal bowl of meat balanced atop his head. In Ghana, this is anything but weird until you see paws and tails hanging over the lip of the bowl. I was beginning to lose my nerve.

The five of us each drank a calabash of pito before traveling to meet our other friends for the feast. I ate one small, unidentified piece and could barely hold it down. Pulling the skin from the meat and crunching bones between my teeth made my come to the brink of retching on my occasions.

Sure, I can live in a dirty house and wait ten hours while my water is filtered. I can eat bush rat, pigeon, cat and dog. I'm living in Africa so I might as well milk the experience for everything it's worth, right? Normally, I think that it's great to get the most out of an experience but once I cleaned my house, got a new filter and ate dog, I realized that balancing comfort and adventure can be very important. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I will not eat dog again. It tasted great but made me want to puke. With my new filter, I can drink a full liter of water when thirsty and have more water within minutes. Also, while I won't buy a generator just so I can vacuum my house, I will definitely sweep more often. Sure it will get dirty again but for a short time, it'll be clean and I won't have to wear sandals inside.

That's all for now. Enjoy what you have!

Love to all!
Ira

Duct Taped Dog

2009-04-09T03:10:00.000-07:00

With all of my attention going towards the GMAT, I failed to let everyone know about Kua. Two weeks ago, when I was away from site taking advantage of electricity, Kua was caught in a grasscutter trap!! Imagine the steal jaw style trap used for bears or wolves but far far smaller.

I suppose that Kua was running when it happened because her toes were caught in the trap rather than her ankle. Dorothy, Emmanuel and the rest of the family suspected that something was wrong when Kua wasn't growling for her dinner at 7pm. After a restless nights sleep, the family went looking through the bush until they found Kua still stuck in the trap. When I got home later in the day, I was greeting by the hobbling Kua. It looked like she had a dog style latex glove blown up to capacity in place of her paw. It looked awful!!!

Since then, the family and I have been treating the would whenever we can get close enough. It is slowly getting better but since Kua continually licks the wound in order to keep it clean, the wound won't close. Yesterday and today, I had to get creative and put a band-aid over the cut and wrap duct tape around her paw. It seems to be working. She was running around and keeping her paw clean yesterday and wasn't able to remove the makeshift dressing until the evening. She's as happy as ever but I just want to make sure she gets better!!

On an entirely different and no less important note, I spent most of Tuesday showing two Congressional Staffers around Koforidua and my site. Talk about a change of pace, I went from taking the GMAT on Monday to taking a private car with two members of the Committee on Foreign Relations on Tuesday to selling groundnuts and gari at a tiny shop in Bormase while Dorothy was away at market. I love my life!!

Tuesday was a great day. I woke up and couldn't help chuckling to myself every time I thought about the GMAT. It feels as though I've pulled a fast one on everyone. It's as though I zoned out and came away with a much more competitive applicant profile. No complaints from me, especially because I NEVER have to take that test again! And I digress. At 10, I was driven to the US Embassy where I waited to meet Steve and Laura. The three of us got lunch from the cafeteria (a much bigger highlight for me than for either of them I'm sure) and got in the car where we joined Emmanuel, a Ghanaian health worker. We chatted about Peace Corps and possible plans for the future. It was very informal and comfortable conversation. We went to visit a school in Koforidua before getting to Bormase at around 4pm. We went to the borehole, saw Patrick as he made beads and talked about life in the village. As always, I loved looking at the faces of my visitors. Even Emmanuel was shocked by my living conditions. I'm used to it but still love to be reminded that it's far from normal. At the end of the visit, I felt as though my guests were rushed and I failed to show them my Moringa farm. I've taken pictures to post to the blog but as usual, something is wrong and I can't upload anything. What looked like as sparse field of sticks only a month ago is a dense, lush farm today. I love it!!

Love to all
Ira

740 isn't my credit score

2009-04-07T00:44:00.000-07:00

I took the GMAT yesterday and I'm tired. I've posted the summary that I put on one of the GMAT prep sites. Enjoy!

My path leading up to GMAT glory is unique. I'm serving in the Peace Corps and have been in Ghana for just over 18 months. I live in a village with no running water or electricity. When I left the US, I didn't know what type of site assignment I would get so I brought a GMAT book (with CD) along since I expected to have a lot of free time.

I took the test yesterday morning in true Ghanaian style. I'm so used to living with electricity that each time I woke up during the night prior to the test, I saw light coming through the window and was ready to run out the door in panic. This happened at 2:30am, 3:30am, 5:30am and then finally at 6am. My test was at 9:30am and I wanted to splurge and eat a nice breakfast with coffee. Here's a good GMAT question for you: if a Peace Corps Volunteer earns 6.6 Ghana Cedis per day and spends 5 Cedis on breakfast and 2 Cedis on a Red Bull (HUGE treat), how much of his daily pay has been spent by 8am?

I tried not to think of my budget, thinking that a few extra Cedis today can honestly equate to tens of thousands of dollars at admission time. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to walk to the testing center. I went to check it out a few days prior so I knew I had time. I walked through traffic, past goats, and over open sewers as I let my blood get pumping.

I got to the test center at 8:10am with a sweat soaked shirt and waited in the air conditioning (another treat). I started the test a little after 9am and was feeling good. Leading up to the test, I got really tired while trying to take practice tests. Maybe a bit of brain drain, I'm not sure. On test day, adrenaline and caffeine combined made me feel up the the 4 hour challenge ahead. I worked through the essays with no real problem. My 10 minute break allowed time to use the bathroom (no running water) and stretch.

The quant section had me a bit nervous. I consider myself to be good at math but have a Psychology degree, no realy quant background. I didn't break a 42 raw score in practice. I was so nervous that it took me 25 questions to realize that I could move the keyboard and use the table for taking notes. By this time, I had ink smeared on both hands and on the legs of my trousers. Oops! During the real deal, I was convinced that I missed 2 of the first 5 questions. Big bummer! With 250 dollars invested, I had to go for it. The rest of the quant section was difficult, some questions I hadn't seen on any practice test. I took my time, made educated guesses when necessary and finished the last question as time ran out. I hoped to pull a 42.

Verbal went well. I hadn't taken a practice verbal section in about a month. Either my program wouldn't work or I'd visit a friend who had electricity and the lights would go out. I was nervous leading up to the test but again, took my time, finished with 5 minutes to spare I knew I did well. Maybe a 690 to match my best practice score?

My nerves really kicked in after the last question. I'm used to having my score pop up immediately following verbal question 41 but this time I had to wait a few minutes. When the score 740 popped up, I was ecstatic!! 48 (84%) quant and 44 (97%) verbal for 97% overall.

Unorthodox prep method.

Books-
Peterson's GMAT with CD
Barron's GMAT with CD (CD CATs give % not actual score)
GMAT 800 2005 (a previous volunteer left it behind)
Kaplan 2009 (broke the bank to get it sent)

Scores-
Peterson's CAT- 680 (60, 37) somehow the algorithm gave me a 60 in quant despite missing 7 questions. This gave me a false sense of security but got me to buckle down on verbal
Peterson's CAT- 650
MGMAT- 650 (40, 41)
Veritas- 610 (42,37)
GMAT Prep- 690 (41, 42)

The above scores were not great for predicting my actual test score. I can only get access to electricity and internet when at a main office or at an internet cafe. My 610 was thanks to 10 straight verbal questions missed when a bunch of volunteers entered the computer lounge.

My second GMAT Prep test wouldn't work due to a virus I picked up on my laptop. I only used the Kaplan CAT math sections and never broke 40 on the raw score.

To have my first 700+ score come on actual test day was beautiful. I hope you've enjoyed the rant. The next text is to apply from Ghana! Wish me luck!

Good luck all!!

Bamboo and beads in Abompe

2009-03-26T04:55:00.000-07:00

Volunteers all around Ghana recently convened in various locations for regional VAC meetings. This was my first chance to run a meeting as a VAC (volunteer action committee) representative. Since the Greater Accra region only houses two volunteers, we have adopted those volunteers as honorary Eastern Regioners.

Due to budget restrictions, VAC meetings had to be held either at existing Peace Corps facilities (Accra, Kumasi, Kukurantumi or Tamale offices) or at the site of a volunteer. Thanks to the generosity of a fellow volunteer, we had our meeting in beautiful Abompe. I went to visit Abompe only a few days after arriving in Ghana. This site was one of the many stops made during my Vision Quest. To this day, I'm not sure if I've seen a nicer Peace Corps house. The fifteen volunteers in attendance all sat comfortably during our meeting and at the end of the night, only a few had to unfold mats for sleeping. Granted, many of the more seasoned volunteers are more comfortable sleeping 4 to a bed than when we first arrived but regardless, this place was nice. Her two showers, four beds and two fridges put my saggy mattress, outdoor bucket bath box and state of the art insta-mold kitchen to shame.

Before we got down to business, the volunteers split into two groups. The first group went on what our host warned would be a very taxing hike. The second group (my flip flops and I joined this group) would tour Abompe and see some of the current projects.

Abompe was recently selected to help promote a bamboo bicycle project. A world renowned bicycle designer has been making bamboo frames for competitive cyclists for a while and is now working on a way to expand the project while working towards providing affordable frames (some sell for several thousand dollars in the states). In addition to the main work site for the bamboo bikes, we visited several bauxite bead makers. Bauxite is the mineral that is used to produce aluminum. In Abompe, bauxite is also mined and used to produce beautiful beads. Many styles are made but the waist beads were the most impressive. A small stick with a pin at the end is used along with a bow (like how fire can be made) to create enough friction to bore a hole through the stone. I got to try my hands at this process and was pleased with my ability to bore one hole in a reasonably short time. I'm used to seeing jobs in Ghana that require long hours of intensive work for minimal reward but this ranks as one of the worst.

Our two groups met in the early evening, enjoyed stew and beer while airing our respective frustrations about life in the Peace Corps. As usual, some more tenured volunteers were frighteningly jaded while some newbies were still shell shocked and sporting incredibly lofty goals (I agree with this approach but know that not all of those goals will be met).

The meeting went well and I got to follow it up by winning a game of poker. I've really missed playing poker and definitely got my fix for now. It always helps when you win.

That'll be all for now.

Love to all
Ira

I got my B's

2009-03-12T04:07:00.000-07:00

Stephen has recently moved to our District Capital, Asesewa. While I will miss having him in Bormase, I understand that it's time for him to pursue a life of his own. Rather than being the family workhorse while earning no money, he will now pursue employment either at the District Assembly or as a teacher.

When Stephen made this decision, it was as a stopgap while waiting for the results of his February exams. Having fallen short of the necessary marks when taking the exam while a Secondary School student, Stephen re-took a few subject exams with the goal of qualifying for either University or technical college.

As it is, Stephen can work as a teacher. With a Secondary School education, he can earn 80 Ghana Cedis per month. Unfortunately, to discourage new employees from quitting a few months into the job, Ghana Education Services do not pay teachers for the first six months. Once the six month trial period is completed, new employees receive six months of salary in one lump sum.

I spoke with Stephen last week and he told me "I got my B's." I'm not sure if he meant that he qualified for University or for Training College. Either way, he can pursue teaching as a career at a higher base salary (200-400 Ghana Cedis per month)depending on the qualification. He and I haven't had a chance to talk about his plans since he received the scores but I'm very proud of him. I don't know if our study sessions helped him reach his goal but either way, he did it.

In other news, Hannah has started her popcorn making endeavor and is doing well. She made small batches on consecutive days and sold out in short order on each occasion. She has given me her earnings so that we can sit down and discuss how much profit she made and how she might be able to do better in the future. The logic behind her work ethic still escapes me but progress is being made.

A huge bush fire cleared all of the brush around my Moringa farm. The leaves on many of the trees were fried but the hours of work it saved made the small loss well worth it. Many of the trees still look like sticks but with the recent increase in rain, I expect a beautiful transformation any day now.

There is more in the works but that can wait.

Love to all,
Ira

Development

2009-03-05T02:57:00.000-08:00

While I know that one of my goals is to work towards sustainable development, I can't help but focus much of my attention of individual development.

Maybe it's my Psychology background or maybe my interest in individual development and my decision to pursue a Psychology degree come from the same place. Oops, maybe I'm over analyzing.

I'm the youngest of three children so I've never really had the opportunity to watch a child learn and change on a day by day basis. In the last year, I've gotten to see so much change in Bormase. The tiny, wrinkly newborns that were perpetually strapped to their mothers' backs when I first arrived are now starting to walk around. Toddlers like Atta and Lahweh are running around and talking up a storm. I've seen school age children go from having a mouth full of tiny baby teeth to proudly sporting tongue sized gaps between their canines to having what appear to be far over sized adult teeth (this is a real moment of truth since orthodontics and dentistry aren't real options). On a less endearing note, some young girls have gone from primary school uniforms to maternity clothes and are now sitting at home with newborns of their own.

In addition to seeing the physical changes, I've had a chance to see the different ways that these children play. When I shared a compound with the twins, I could watch them play at washing clothes, washing dishes, drumming and pounding fufu. It wasn't uncommon to see Lahweh flip over his little stool, fill it with rocks and leaves and pretend to drive around like a local lorry driver with a fully loaded car. I occasionally get weird looks when I sit in the dirt and play hand slapping games or catch. When hanging out at the borehole, I'll kick a small plastic ball around with a 6 year old or I'll throw a spherical seed pod as high into the air as I can only to watch children of all ages circle beneath it and make stabs to catch it. Being a white man makes me different already so why not be the only adult male to play games with the small boys and small girls? I'm still the coolest and craziest white dude around. No harm done.

Hannah moved her twin two year olds Atta and Lahweh to a neighboring compound in order to live with the twins' father and escape Dorothy's instruction. The house is between my house and the Moringa farm so I'll try to stop by to say hello on my way to weeding. Since the bushy growth in front of the house was recently prepared for planting (a nice way to say slashed and burned), the children can see me walking up the road and will greet me with repeated entreaties of "Kweku ba!! Kweku ba!!," Kweku is my local name and "ba" means come. I'll enter the compound and join Atta, Lahweh, Teye (the massive 22 month old cousin) and Tetteh (4 or 5 year old cousin) in whatever game they're playing. Recently I've had them take turns hanging on to my index fingers so that I can lift them up and allow them to pull leaves from the Cassia tree (like Ghanaians need help working on their strength).

Though I love playing with these kids, I see Hannah frying Gari with a 16 year old nursing mother and her 14 year old pregnant sister. 22 month old Teye is actually the uncle of the 3 year old twins.

I've recently been working with Hannah, trying to get her to take work more seriously. Seeing that nobody in Bormase sells Popcorn while everybody loves to eat popcorn, I taught Hannah how to make it. I made a loan of three ghana cedis and fifty pesewas (a little more than three dollars) in order to purchase the first supply of kernels. Hannah and I sat down and figured out how many bags of popcorn she would have to sell and at what price if she wanted to make a profit.

After our introductory lesson, Hannah told me that she'd be back in the afternoon and we'd make the popcorn. She didn't come back. I had to track her down in order to set up a time for her to get to work. Sekesua market day came and went with no popcorn made. Dorothy came and asked me if I could get popcorn so that she could start selling it in her store. When I told her that Hannah was planning to make popcorn to sell and that I was trying to help support the twins, Dorothy told me of past business ventures that were unsuccessfully attempted with Hannah. Dorothy and Stephen each assured me (with limited excitement) that they would surely end up supporting the twins. I still have hope that Hannah will get her act together. As it is, she spends most of her time walking around town her pregnant, teen-aged sister in law.

As great as it has been to watch children grow and develop, it's very disconcerting to see the sheer number of children trying to develop. At least the children don't seem worried about it.

Love to all,
Kweku

It's where I live

2009-02-21T22:36:00.000-08:00

Since spending a day rustling up interest in the Village Bicycle project, life in Bormase has slowed down in some senses. To be honest though, I can't get all that slow.

I've been reading, studying and working out in my nice home gym. We've gotten a few rains which gives me this great joy of weeding the Moringa farm again. There was a while there where I couldn't remember what was missing from my daily life. I knew that I really missed something but I couldn't put a finger on it. Just more than a week ago, I went to visit my farm and saw that not much weeding was needed. The ground was mostly clear and the trees were not much more than skinny brown sticks poking through the dry soil. After a few good rains however, I've gotten to see those skinny brown sticks erupt into the beautiful green trees I once knew and loved.

My time on the farm has reminded me of one of my initial goals when joining the Peace Corps. I wanted to get away from my addiction to instant gratification. 18 months ago, I'd end my day at work, walk a block to the gym, walk a few feet for a nice snack, walk a few hundred yards to the MUNI. I'd ride the N Judah for maybe thirty minutes before walking the two blocks to my house, whipping up some food and getting online while sitting in front of the TV and texting/calling my friends. This overflow of technology and stimuli took me straight through until bedtime and into another day of the same. The mindless TV and internet time was a great way to wind down after a hectic day at work but I could easily picture my life zipping away in front of my eyes. I didn't want to just fill up my time with mindless blah.

Less than one year ago, some friends and I went to an overgrown patch of land and started clearing. Sweat poured, hands bled and seedlings sprouted. Since then, I've spent countless hours chopping weeds and laying them between rows with the hope that I'll be able to fertilize the Moringa with my own farm scraps. This week, after having taken my time and gone through the motions with a far away end goal in mind, I had at least 8 inches of lush top soil conveniently located amongst my trees. Rather than leaving 30 centimeters between every row, I'd planted three rows at 30cm and left 60cm after each set of three rows. This space would be for the weeds and would allow a space to walk through for harvesting. Sure, that sounds like a good plan. It WAS a good plan and I must say that the delayed gratification was well worth the hard work.

Away from the farm, Patrick and I gathered bamboo for what will be a garden fence. When going into the bush to collect the downed poles, Patrick grabbed my arm to point out a green snake in the bush. It was only 5 or 6 feet away and no matter how he pointed or explained, I couldn't see the thing. We chatted away while working but really paid no mind to the close encounter. A few days later, I noticed that the plank of wood that conveniently balances my water barrel beneath the gutter was rotting. I spotted a similar but sturdier plank a few feet away and I went to get it. I lifted the little plank (less than 3' x 2') and was greeted by a cute little adolescent viper. The snake was no more than ten inches long and was clearly a bit logy after an evidently large meal. I hollered to Stephen who quickly came over and rapped the little guy with a stick until it was dead. I'll be honest, I felt really bad for this deadly little guy. There's no way I was going to let a poisonous viper go off into the bush (I found it about 20 feet from my front door) and grow even more dangerous but I still felt sorry for it.

Patrick came by the house a while later and I was still chattering about how "snakes really FREAK me out." Patrick and Stephen laughed. Patrick said that he also dislikes snakes while Stephen voiced contempt for scorpions. I couldn't help but wonder why I never hear about snake bites when so many people spend endless hours in the overgrown bush every day. I've only been in Bormase for a bit over a year and I've seen my fair share. I'm no herpetologist but I know that I don't want bright snakes with diamond shaped heads hanging out in my front yard.

I asked Patrick and Stephen in snake bites are common and just like the last several times I asked, I was told that it was not common. We stayed on the subject for a while and Patrick eventually told me that he had only been bitten once. He told me that he was bitten on the ankle by a belt snake (I'm not sure of the real name but this snake has brown and white stripes running lengthwise down its body and locals think that it would look good as a belt). Had he not seen the beautiful belt slithering away, he wouldn't have stopped working. Instead, he cut a vine, tied it around his calf and walked to the roadside. Patrick described how the pain had gone from he foot to his head by the time he got to the roadside. He was lucky to find a car passing and hitched a ride to the clinic. He laughed while describing how the venom was affecting his heart and breathing by the time he received treatment. While he wasn't in terrible pain at the time, Patrick couldn't walk for three days due to the swelling in his leg.

Stephen said the he had once been bitten on the finger by a baby but had no need for treatment. His real story was about the scorpion that stung his palm. Stephen got a sting and needed several shots before feeling better. He was in terrible pain for several days and had minimal use of his hand. I can see why Patrick and Stephen don't like snakes and scorpions respectively. I just think they're creepy.

For some reason I can't upload pictures at the moment but I'll try again soon.

That's all for now.

Love to all
Ira

Village Bicycle Project

2009-02-14T05:35:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in my last blog entry that I have a few potential projects coming down the line. Today, I sent in the application to have Village Bicycle Project come to Bormase.

Yesterday, Patrick and I held meetings in Bormase Tenya, Bormase Dorse and Bormase Sibrino (I think that only Bormase is spelled correctly). Officially, all three communities are my "site" but it took 30 minutes to walk to Dorse and over an hour to walk to Sibrino.

The meetings were held in as a means to convey the objective of Village Bicycle Project. The US based company provides used bicycles to Peace Corps villages at prices that are below market rate. Customers are required to attend an eight hour information session before leaving with their new bicycle. This information session includes practical lessons on how to properly maintain a bicycle.

The first meeting started at 7am and ended with more than 70 people having signed up. The LONG day ended at 4pm and had 130 people signed up. Patrick was able to translate everything and was also willing to tell Dorse and Sibrino attendees about Moringa and the other projects that we have going in Bormase.

It remains to be seen how many people will follow through and pay (in advance) for the bicycles. Initial news form VBP is that they won't likely deliver bicycles until just before I leave Ghana but I'll be ecstatic if this project is competed successfully. As things stand now, maybe a dozen people in the vicinity of my house own their own bicycle. When I first brought my own bike home, I was getting daily requests from potential borrowers. Occasionally, I would lend my bike but recently, a neighbor (the same on who hit his brother with a cutlass) returned the bike with a terribly bent seat.

As I prepared to go speak with Lahweh (it's a common name for a male twin) about his use of my bicycle, I learned that the bicycle was less damaged of the two travelers. Lahweh had flipped over the handlebars and knocked out one of his front teeth. It seems that he knows not to be careless with a bicycle.

Other projects are still in the works but I'll give news on those later.

Love to all
Ira

Seasonal Calendar

2009-02-02T02:02:00.000-08:00

One thing that Peace Corps Ghana insists upon as an integration tool is the Seasonal Calendar. During training, we were told on what seemed to be a daily basis that composing a seasonal calendar would be a fool proof integration tool once we were living at our respective sites. I composed a calendar last December and got a good idea of when to expect the rain, when to clear land for the next planting season. I learned when to nurse seedlings, when to expect people to be at farm harvesting. I learned when the village would be short on money and when people would be away during the funeral season.

While I was able to write down what would happen during each season, I had no idea what to really expect. As I go through these seasons for a second time, I have a new perspective on everything.

We're in the middle of the harmattan season right now. Dust is blowing south from the Sahara and the beautiful, lush, green landscape is now dead and brown. The air (and our lungs) are full of dust. A few people are at farm clearing new portions of land for the next planting season but many are sitting around the house, trying to save money for herbicide, seeds or other necessary goods for preparing a plot of land. Sometimes, it looks as though the sun is setting in the North rather than the West. Bush fires are so big that they give the illusion of a never ending sunset. It rains ash and the scene is accompanied by a symphony of gunshots as people shoot at any bush animal seen fleeing the fire. Last year, I was worried that the fire would engulf my house and that the gunshots were from some militant uprising that I hadn't heard about. Now, I take it all in stride.

In a few short months, we will enter the season during which it's hard to carry on a conversation or even hear your own thoughts because the rain is pelting the tin roof with such voracity. I used to laugh at how people would run for cover and refuse to do anything when it started to drizzle. After a year of seeing how fast a drizzle can turn into a torrential downpour, I do the same thing.

Once the rain starts, it continues with little let-up through October. What's hard to believe is that the rain is only about a month away and when it's starting to let up, I'll be preparing to leave this beautiful country.

A few new programs are taking shape in Bormase. The food storage facility idea has lost steam after community members failed to initiate any further work. Patrick has started working with me on a proposal for a permanent structure for bead makers. As it is now, structures are in constant disrepair and productivity depends greatly on weather and other factors. Patrick hopes to put up a solid structure under which students can be trained in the art of Krobo bead making, work can be completed with fewer environmental disturbances and work can be professionally displayed for any future visitors. The proposal is underway and I'll keep you all updated on the progress.

The Moringa farm is going strong. There aren't many fresh leaves because of the harmattan season but come March, it will be a sight to behold. I also plan to clear another small portion of land and dedicate that portion to Moringa trees that will be for seed production rather than leaf production. As it is now, all of the trees are trimmed for the purpose of harvesting leaves. Since they're trimmed, the will not produce seeds. This new portion will help support the growing interest in Moringa and will help make the project more sustainable.

Local farmers have been meeting and discussing the idea of saving money for later in life. I have mentioned in the past that farmers struggle once they reach an age at which farming becomes too physically taxing. The idea is to establish a communal savings plan so that farmers can have a little nest egg when it's needed. This group has expanded and is currently working on saving a small amount of funds for agro-chemicals. When I first arrived, I frowned on the idea of using chemicals and fire for clearing land. An area near my Moringa plot was burned less than a year ago and already has 3-4 feet of growth throughout. When working with a cutlass, it really doesn't make much sense to everything by hand. I have to pick my battles.

There are a few other plans in the works but I'll wait to see how those pan out.

Love to all
Ira
The pictures are unrelated but very cute!

Outside looking in

2009-01-23T05:17:00.000-08:00

It was great to read Jamie's blog entry about her time in Ghana. While she does a great job at describing our trip to the Northern region, I can see that it's absolutely impossible to truly describe what it feels like to live and breathe Ghana. Since I don't go back and read my own blog entries, I don't know how the detail compares from one entry to the next. However, I can assure you that even those entries that drip with detail and make you wince, cringe, laugh or cry, they pail in comparison to the true experience. If you ever have an opportunity to immerse yourself in a new culture, take it. Thanks for writing Jamie!!

On another note, Barack Obama is finally our President!! Between the time Obama was elected and the day swore in as President (the first time), Ghana has had one election, one run-off, a re-vote in one constituency and a swearing in of their own. Atta Mills took office roughly 72 hours after he was declared the winner while much of the world waited in suspense while wondering if the Obama era would ever actually begin.

It has begun!! I joined several fellow volunteers at the W.E.B. Dubois Memorial in Accra on Tuesday where we stood behind several hundred other enthusiasts. Ghanaians, Americans and ex pats from around the world walked around sporting Obama gear from t-shirts to Ghanaian fabric with Obama's face on it. The energy was palpable throughout the historic event while tears, cheers and hugs were shared by many. The mother of one of my fellow volunteers was away from her D.C. home. She said after the ceremony that she was happy to have had the experience of witnessing the event from Ghana and wouldn't have traded it for a chance to be in D.C. at the time. It feels similar to election day for me. I was anticipating the event for such a long time and enjoyed it so thoroughly without really thinking that the event itself is only the beginning and these feelings of hope and elation don't have to stop just because the day has past. Obama is already doing great things and I can only hope that the words that he so eloquently spoke on January 20th truly suggest what he'll do as our President.

Love to all!
Ira

From an Obruni's Perspective

2009-01-20T10:09:00.000-08:00

My name is Jamie, and I am delighted to be a guest blogger on Ira’s blog. I recently had the pleasure of traveling to Ghana with Ira’s sister, Martha. As I write this from my office in Manhattan, overlooking the Chrysler building and still shivering from my walk to work in below freezing temperatures, I am missing Ghana…a lot.

Our experiences were rich with culture, food and much laughter. And while there are many things I wish to share, I fear that I could write for hours and hours. So I’ll focus this entry on our travels to the North…

From Tamale, we were headed to Kpendua (though I admit I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the Muslim village where I knew we’d have to “greet” the elders and wear dresses that at least covered our knees).

As “strangers” to the village, we wanted to ensure that we got off on the right foot. So, with Cheri’s (who, if you follow this blog, you all should know is Ira’s fantastic girlfriend) guidance, we set out to purchase a guinea fowl. Sidenote: I am completely terrified of birds (think Hitchcock movie) and I couldn’t believe my time had come to travel, via tro or lorry or whatever other means, with a live bird. Setting my fears aside, we carried on.

We found the bulk market (sort of like the Costco of markets in Africa), a very nice man took us to the right spot and for 8 Ghana Cedis we had found our bird. The man tied the bird's feet and wings and we set off on our merry way. Ira had it tucked nicely under his arm (as I had seen other locals carrying their birds) and we were off to find our lorry, which would take us to Cheri's village. We had not walked for three minutes when all of a sudden the bird flew out from under Ira's arm. You can just imagine the tidal wave of laughter that set off in the market. Two nice men sprung into action, helped gather the bird and plucked the feathers that help it fly. They tucked it back under Ira's arm and we were good to go. The laughter only grew stronger even as we were walking away. Minor crisis averted, but unbelievably funny.

The lorry was waiting in the lot near the market. If I thought the tro rides I had taken previously were uncomfortable, I didn’t even know what kind of surprise I was in for with the lorry. Our bags were hoisted onto the top of the vehicle, which Martha and I estimate was built in the 1940s. Our bags were among the cylindrical wicker containers filled with chickens, approximately 200 yams – that were thrown atop the lorry one at a time – and other random items. As we rode off, I did have a fleeting thought that the roof might collapse onto our heads. Alas, we made it unscathed, just incredibly sweaty and thankful to be up and walking around.

We arrived in the village and presented the Assemblyman with the guinea fowl. In response, he informed us that he had slaughtered two chickens for us as well (which is an extremely nice gesture given the expense). We were to eat dinner at his house that night. Before setting out to greet people, we walked over to where the chicken had been killed. We watched as the "A" man said a prayer and then proceeded to slit the guinea fowl's neck and drain the blood. Martha and I then took one of the chickens and began to pluck the feathers. Yes...this is one of those moments where I thought to myself – “Am I really doing this?” In spite of my aforementioned fear of birds, I plucked a chicken that I was going to eat later that evening. The chicken was still warm and I cannot say the plucking is something I would do again, but I am glad I did it once. Just down the way, while we were still plucking, and the little children were burning the rest of the feathers off, we saw a goat being killed. We also then had the distinct pleasure of watching the men pull out the stomach and intestines and other parts. Wow.

We then spent about 2 hours greeting. The Assemblyman speaks English and helped to translate the things that Cheri did not know. We greeted, among others, the Queen Mother, the Chief and the Pastor. We were met with smiling faces and many well wishes. Just as we had experienced in Ira’s village days before, the people are incredibly warm and inviting. I was pleased Cheri had taught us a little bit of Dagmane so that we didn’t completely embarrass ourselves. We didn’t know much, but I was glad to be making an effort.

Once the greeting was over, we relaxed for about an hour and then headed to dinner at the "A" man's house. He had prepared the birds and some goat, along with fufu and some stew for dipping. I tried it all, and to my amazement, I really enjoyed the goat. Once we finished eating, we asked him to tell us the story of Fire Festival - the real reason we had come to Kpendua for that night. Essentially it's a celebration of a prophet’s successful rescue of his son (if Ira can do it, he’ll post the video he shot of the “A” man telling the story). The "A" man described all of the tradition and the meanings and what we were to expect. He had even prepared four straw torches for us so that we could participate.

Both Ira and Cheri had been to the festival last year, but Martha and I were flying blind. We were anxious and excited and, to be honest, a little nervous. Men, women and children would all carry flaming torches, there would be men with cutlasses and guns that would go off randomly.

From dinner we set out for the festival with our torches. About 100 yards away, everyone was gathered holding their unlit torches and running around in a circle chanting. We jumped right in and were running around while the dust grew and circled around us. Once the Chief's torch was lit everyone lit theirs as well and headed down the road, running and chanting. There were a number of incredible drummers playing the entire night as well. It was hot, ashes were flying everywhere and Martha and I were trying desperately not to lose sight of one another (or Ira and Cheri for that matter). After about 10 minutes of walking around with the burning torches, everyone heads towards a designated tree and throws their torch into the tree. Once that is done, everyone carries a branch from the tree back to the starting point. It is believed that if you bathe with the leaves from the tree the next day you will be spared from bad things happening in the year to come.

So we were back at the beginning and running around with the leaves now. Guns would go off at random, which I must say was quite frightening considering that the men carrying those guns were quite drunk. We learned later that the guns were shooting glass instead of bullets, but I'm fairly certain being struck with glass from where we were standing would have hurt anyway. The men then split from the women and much dancing ensued. They do a dance called the tora tora. Put simply, the women stand in a line and two at a time they will bump each other's butts. Both Cheri and Martha got in the line, but I was not feeling quite up to it. The night was intense and beautiful and filled with tradition and I was so happy to have been a part of it.

The next morning we were headed back to Tamale. But instead of the lorry we took to get to Cheri's village, this time we had to take a cargo lorry. Yep...it is what you think. We arrived at the station down the road, and there waiting for us was an open truck already carrying two cows with a bike attached to the side and one of those wicker baskets filled with chickens. We boarded the lorry, our bags were placed near the cows and people slowly started to gather in. Just as we thought we were ready to go, we all had to deboard to let a bull on. In order to get the bull onto the truck, several of the men had to rope it in and then hoist it up by the horns and the tail. That, of course, set him off and it took some time to calm him down. Alas, we all got back on the truck and vied for a spot to sit. Let's just say that personal space does not exist on this journey. And people have to sit atop the truck while they hold on to the iron rails for dear life.

We had to stop about ten minutes into the trip to get yet another bull. This one was feisty. It was hoisted up and would not calm down. I know I am not doing this justice, but the men were swinging from the bars trying to move the bull to ensure that it wouldn't trample any of the passengers. Ultimately, they tied its horns to its back legs. With that bull now somewhat sedated, one of the others turned around so its butt was facing the people. And, yes, you guessed it...it started to poop (I understand that poop is a topic often and openly discussed among the peace corps volunteers, so I feel perfectly comfortable writing about it here). Thankfully, a very nice (and extraordinarily strong) man was standing nearby and picked up Martha's backpack and handed it up to a man just above sitting on one of the iron rails. He then picked up my bag and, to the amusement of the other Ghanaians who never carry things on their back, struggled to put it on his back and out of the way of the poop. While holding my 70 pound bag, standing atop a bag of uneven grain, and holding on to the rail above with only one hand, he also successfully kept the cow out of everyone's way. In the meantime, due to the extreme lack of personal space, my right leg was asleep in a way it has never been asleep. I could not feel a thing. Martha's left arm was lodged between her body and one of the rails because, had she taken it out, she would have fallen over. She also had no sensation in her right leg.

We arrived at last at the market - halfway between Kpendua and Tamale. We went directly to the pito bar (hardly a "bar" by any stretch. It was a straw hut that you could not stand up in. It fit about ten people all seated on rocks. Martha, Ira and Cheri enjoyed some pito (a millet beer), but my stomach certainly was not up to the task - though I tasted it. It was extraordinary to be inside, in the shade, with sensation in all of my body. From there we took a regular lorry the rest of the way into town. I felt like I was flying first class on Virgin.

By the time we reached Tamale we were SPENT!! We had a nice dinner and called it a night.

This is just a small snapshot of a two week trip that was laced with incredible stories and experiences. But as you can see, recounting all of it would be too tall of a task for right now (especially since I’m back on the clock).

To Ira and Cheri: THANK YOU FOR BEING THE MOST INCREDIBLE HOSTS. I cannot express how grateful I am to you and to the people of your villages for opening up their homes and for sharing their thoughts and experiences with us. This was a once in a lifetime, perspective changing trip. I know I speak for both Martha and myself when I say that we are extraordinarily lucky to have had the opportunity to travel to Ghana. And we will follow the remainder of your adventures with enthusiasm and jealousy.

Short news

2009-01-06T02:46:00.000-08:00

Standfast has been lifted and after some time stuck in Accra (very nice accomodations to be "stuck" with). Bormase was great and some beautiful jewelry was made while good times were shared.

I'm sorry that I'm unable to attend today's funeral service for the beloved Mrs. Janet Strauss, avid blog follower and honorary mother/grandmother to many. Aunt Jan Jan passed away peacefully and in good company on January 31st. I'll write more when there is more time.

It's hard to wrap my head around everything that's going on in the world both near and far but things in Ghana are great following an NDC victory in the recent presidential elections. Official results came in a month after the first day of voting and the NDC came away victorious with 50.23% vs. the NPP's 49.77%. Over seventy percent of the population voted and despite numerous delays and accusations, the election was peaceful.

Love to all.
Ira

Immaculate Misconception

2008-12-22T02:31:00.000-08:00

The night I got back to Bormase after posting my last blog entry, I biked uphill from the junction lugging all my my food etc. and arrived just in time for dinner. Exhausted, I was looking forward to eating, bathing and going to sleep. At dinner, Dorothy decided (for the second straight night) to speak to me in only Krobo and ignore anything that I said in English. If I asked a question, she would turn to other members at the table, say something in Krobo and enjoy a good laugh. After two weeks away from site, already anxious about my loss of language skills, I didn't react well. I raised my voice (maybe the first time since I've been there?) and told her how I didn't appreciate her doing what she was doing. She told me that she's explained certain things to me in Krobo several times and I still don't remember them. I kept the conversation civil and told her that I'm trying but that I'm not able to converse in only Krobo. She agreed to speak in English moving forward but I was still very upset. I went to bed worried that my presence wasn't appreciated and that my relationship with my host family was on the way towards being spoiled.

Just a quick look at the confusion that is the Krobo language.

gbe - dog
Ma gbe mo - I will beat you
O nge gbe ye lo? - Are you scared?
E gbe nya - It's finished

Please notice that gbe is used in four different ways. It's pronounced the same each time. Gbe is definitely not the only word in the language that has various meanings. I'm no savant when it comes to language but I am definitely trying and improving. We'll see how it progresses.

In the morning, I went early to Patrick's house to help make some new beads. We sat and worked all day while mixing in small Krobo lessons and discussing possible projects for the future. I joked and laughed with Patrick's children and several visitors as they came by the house. The general feeling was so far from the feeling at my own house and it was a great relief. I ended the day with a nice, exhausting football practice. Stephen approached me in the evening and asked about what had transpired the previous evening and I explained that I was tired and really didn't appreciate the approach that Dorothy took. Stephen suggested that we meet with Emmanuel and have him tell his wife to act differently. Stephen has been talking about how Dorothy's constant yelling is exhausting and hurts the general feeling of the house. I told him that I'm sure it's in response to the constant financial stress she's under and the fact that she's in charge of keeping a house running while 7 children are in the house. For now I'll bite the bullet and spend more time away from the house. I know that it will be better for me and I imagine that Dorothy will get some extra rest with one less person in the house.

On Saturday morning, I returned to Patrick's for some more bead work. I helped fill some molds with glass powder, talked with Patrick about other plans for the upcoming year and relaxed. While returning from an errand to my house, I stopped by the borehole and hung out with some of the younger children of the area. Despite the weather, it's really beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Children are home from school and everyone is going around town with big smiles and happy greetings. I played with the kids for a while (pictures coming, the internet here is too slow) and returned to Patrick's for what turned out to be an afternoon of playing board games. We played a Ghanaian game that is somewhat similar to Sorry. The relaxed nature and constant joking made me feel more at home than I've felt since moving to Bormase. I seldom feel out of place but until this past week, I haven't felt like a real member of the community. It's a wonderful feeling!!

As I walked back into the compound surrounding my house, I saw two young children playing on the veranda with their mother. This is far from an uncommon site as children are coming by the house all day but as I got closer, I saw that Atta and Lahweh were back with their mother Hannah. When I was first assigned to stay in Bormase, one of the most exciting prospects of the post was the opportunity to live with these twins while they grew from 18 months to three and a half years old. Unfortunately, they moved away just after Chrismas last year. Now, they're back for Christmas and my abundant joy was met with sheer terror from both twins. For the next several hours, every time I was in view, both children would scream and run away crying. When Atta or Lahweh walked into the courtyard, they'd check my door and then sprint to where they were going. At dinner, thy crying began as I walked up to the table and lasted until I had finished eating. Just before leaving the table, I put out my hand and each of the twins stopped crying and slapped a hand in mine for a good handshake.

The next morning, both twins cried and ran the first time they saw me. Within a few hours, we were chatting away in garbled Krobo and having a good time (more pictures to come). Yesterday afternoon, a large wedding ceremony was held at the local primary school. A football match was also scheduled so I arrived at the site around 3pm for the match. A few days prior, I helped prepare the field by holding a new piece of bamboo atop the goal posts. The previous crossbar had spoiled and we had to trim a new piece of bamboo and nail it on as the new crossbar. Other players cut sticks from nearby trees and staked the net into the ground by bashing them with large flat rocks. Compared to the pre-game ritual in high school where metal stakes and velcro straps attached a pristine net to a perfectly sized goal frame, this was far less precise but much more fun.

The opposing team arrived for the 3pm match at 5pm, just as the local team was dividing into two sides based on preference of Ghanaian club football clubs (Accra Hearts of Oak vs. Ashanti Kotoko). Donated St. Ignatius uniforms were finally going to be put to use but just prior to kickoff, the opposing team showed up in white jerseys and we were forced to abandon our town game and sport blue replica Manchester United jerseys.

With the wedding celebration coming to a close, the match got underway with a huge fan base and no shortage of inebriated fans (plus one referee and several players). The scrappy game ended in a 1-1 draw. A poorly cleared ball by the Bormase keeper allowed an open net put back early in the match but our side persevered and knotted the score at 1-1 as the sun was about to set. A few of my shots narrowly missed the mark but at the end of the match, I received hearty handshakes from both teams.

I'm now buying some last minute provisions as I won't have another opportunity before my American visitors arrive.

With nowhere to go but up following the conversation with Dorothy, things managed to go up and up and up throughout the week.

Love and Happy Holidays to all.

Ira

PS: Somehow, Kua is actually NOT pregnant.

Inconvenient security

2008-12-18T05:28:00.000-08:00

For several months now, some of my PC cohorts and I have been discussing the idea of attending Festival au Desert in Mali from January 8-10. The concert presents numerous toureg artists and last year received a cameo appearance from none other than Robert Plant. In the months leading up to the show, the website was updated and showed that the price had jumped dramatically from last year. A fellow volunteer and I traded e-mails with one of the concert organizers and offered our services as volunteers in exchange for a reduced rate. A former language trainer with Peace Corps Mali, the contact seemed very interested in helping but told us that the decision would have to wait.

With the standfast situation surrounding the upcoming run-off election, I was resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be able to attend the concert without incredibly strenuous travel involved. The standfast ends on Jan 2nd and I would have to travel great distances (the full distance would only take one long day of driving with American cars and roads) for several days straight if I hoped to make it to Timbuctou by January 7th. Either way, if the news came that we could attend for free, I was ready to give it a shot. Today, as I sat down to my e-mail, I saw that I'd received e-mails from the Peace Corps Safety and Security Officer as well as from the concert organizer. We were approved to receive free admission in exchange for our work but at the same time, we were forbidden from traveling to Northern Mali because of recent kidnappings and other safety concerns. Again, though I'm happy that my safety is being taken into account, it can put a serious damper on planning ahead.

On another note, I'd like to share some of todays mishaps with you. The longer I'm in Ghana, the less I notice the strange things that used to irk, frighten or disgust me. To help keep irksome, frightening or disgusting situations from occurring more often, I seldom look in a mirror. After eating breakfast, packing my bags, washing up and putting on sunscreen for my day in Koforidua, I looked through the mess that is my desk in order to find my phone. While searching through the pile of clothes and papers, I came across my small mirror and noticed that I had a very solid sunscreen uni-brow going on. I wonder how often I walk around with food in my teeth or on my face. Ignorance is bliss in that regard.

When it came to lunchtime, I decided to mix things up a bit and try share my business with an entrepreneurial woman who has been selling what appear to be egg salad sandwiches on the roadside. For 70 pesewas, I got macaroni salad and baked beans between to fat pieces of bread (in Ghana, ketchup, baked beans and mayonnaise are very welcome condiments). I bit into the sandwich and wasn't as pleased as I expected but thought I'd stick with it. As I continued to eat and wonder what was wrong with my food, I looked between the fluffy pieces of bread and saw a solid chunk of fish meat with skin and scales attached. Very unappealing!! These situations are far from uncommon but are definitely worth sharing. One more thing; I've been patting myself on the back regarding my ability to adjust to the climate. Now that I've entered my second December at site, I realize that the change in season has helped more than anything. I once again break a sweat without moving. I soak through nearly every inch of my clothing after an hour of work on the farm. It's very hard to sleep at night because of the still, blanketing heat.

Yet another thing, while writing the blog, I took a sip from my Nalgene water bottle and got a pleasant surprise. I drank a bean that fell into the bottle during last night's dinner. That should be strange right? At this point, it's free fiber and protein!!!

Love to all
Ira

Merry Standfast

2008-12-14T08:53:00.000-08:00

After finishing mid-service medical, I went to Bunso Coco College for the second annual All Volunteer Conference. Last year, the meeting was based around the Office of the Inspector General investigation and ended with the departure of at least five volunteers. Despite the negative overtones of last year's conference, volunteers raved about it's relevance and pushed strongly for the implementation of an annual meeting.

This year, the meeting was scheduled to coincide with Ghana's Presidential election and also happened to work well as a hand-off from Bob (old Country Director) to Mike (new Country Director). The meeting allowed 90 volunteers to convene in one place and hash out any any major complains or worries that may be lingering.

Enough of the conference was related to HIV/AIDS related topics for it to fall under the umbrella of PEPFAR and received funding. Most volunteers dreaded the idea of yet another PEPFAR meeting but the agenda was very interactive and the schedule was far less grueling than expected.

Complaints were shared from all sides, rumors were dispelled and ultimate frisbee and soccer were played each afternoon. The occasionally segregated teacher and omnibus volunteers bonded at a Peace Corps prom and during an impromptu talent show. Some of the quieter volunteers shared some incredible talents that were shocking to all.

As many of us expected, the Presidential election was too close to call (by constitutional parameters) with the NPP receiving just over 49 percent and the NDC receiving just under 49 percent. There will be a run-off on December 28th and due to civil unrest leading up to and following run-off elections in Ghana and other African nations, all volunteers will be required to stay at or near their respective sites from December 24th through January 2nd. Though most volunteers understand that the restriction has been mandated as a way to ensure our safety, many were bummed by the requirement that we spend Christmas and New Years away from friends and fun vacation spots. With my sister Martha's inevitably awesome vacation scheduled for Dec. 26 through Jan. 10, my plans have been thrown into the spin-cycle and plans are up in the air.

Yesterday, Florida Senator Bill Nelson sat down with any and all volunteers who were available in Accra. He has been on an intelligence mission throughout Africa and was willing to sit with us and discuss any pressing issues. He asked about our primary projects and told us about his appreciation for the Peace Corps and his vision for future growth. We had a great time chatting and we got to eat CHEESE!!! Honestly though, Senator Nelson was incredibly appreciative of our work and he wasn't visibly fazed by the fact that our dressiest clothing included sweaty, wrinkled clothing and open toed sandals. Today, I'll go back to the reality of Ghana and get back to work.

If you have time, please take a look at my friend Jon's Peace Corps Partnership Project proposal. Jon's village is in need of more easily accessible drinking water. Any donations are tax deductible and will go a long way. Thanks.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=641-250

Love to all,
Ira

A real deal meal

2008-12-03T06:01:00.000-08:00

While in the north, Cheri and I saw some of her neighbors peeling what
appeared to be good large potatoes. Having eaten our share of various
yam varieties over the last year, we were ready to pick up some normal
potatoes and maybe make some french fries for a snack. Cheri's
assemblyman assured us that the legumes were to bitter to eat and he
showed us the traditional way the food is prepared. The food is pealed
and ground very fine before being soaked in water. The water is poured
out and the process is repeated until the bitterness is gone. The
remaining gooey white starch is then fried and eaten with some variety
of oily soup (that can be assumed in Ghana). Feeling adventurous,
Cheri and I bought one of the "potatoes" along with a sweet potato and
were ready to see what we could manage.

After frying and seasoning the tuber, we served it up and were ready
to give it a shot. Before biting down, the oil and seasoning had me
convinced that we had done a good job. I wasn't even able to chew the
failed french fry twice before spitting it out. The Assemblyman was
right, this food was FAR too bitter to eat as it was. Rather than
feeling defeated, I was deeply impressed with the effort and
determination that must be put into food preparation in such an
unforgiving climate.

A few days later, as I sat in Accra on the day before Thanksgiving, I
couldn't help but marvel at the stark difference between North and
South. I had a cheeseburger for lunch and for sheer novelty sake, a
group of us ate cat kebabs for dinner (it's not commonly available but
a restaurant owner offered to make some for us). Within an hour of our
cat kebab feast, two bloodied volunteers came into the Swissrest
(Peace Corps bunk room in Accra) to tell us that they had been walking
down the road and not 50 meters from the entrance to the Swissrest, a
man leaned out of the passenger window of a car and grabbed the bag of
a 60 year old volunteer. The volunteer walking next to the victim
instantly tried to grab the bag back and the two men were drug on the
road alongside the car for 20-30 feet as it sped off with bag in tow.
This happened at 7pm with a number of cars and onlookers around. Never
a dull moment.

With no serious physical damage, the two scraped up volunteers joined
as 36 volunteers joined the embassy workers, Fullbright Scholars and
Marines at the Ambassador's house for Thanksgiving dinner. We arrived
a little after noon and were treated to juice, beer wine and hors d
oeuvres and were given access to the swimming pool. One volunteer
drank too much and another walked around the outdoor dining area with
bare feet while wearing only swim trunks but all around the day was
great. The Ambassador has spent 23 years in the foreign service and
has just begun his first stint as an Ambassador. His friend and former
boss (the Ambassador to South Africa) was also in attendance and
offered interesting insight to the upcoming election and World Cup in
South Africa.

Dinner was server at around 2pm and there was more than enough food
for the sixty guests. We ate Turkey with stuffing and three types of
gravy. We had green beans, mashed potatoes, salad, cornbread and a
corn pudding that was based on the Ambassador's wife's family recipe.
I ate two servings while sitting next to and chatting with the
Ambassador before he got up and urged the cooking staff to provide
dessert. We ate pumpkin pie, pecan pie and a type of chocolate cake
before all was said and done. While chatting with the various guests,
I met my host for the evening and at around 4:30pm, a fellow volunteer
and I left the festivities behind. Our Country Director set up lodging for all volunteers so I shared a home with a fellow volunteer, a USAID worker and the worker's two children. Ms. Friedman, our host, had been working for USAID in Ghana for 4 months and was a very gracious host. In fact, we lucked out to the point that we were guests for a second turkey dinner. Families streamed in throughout the evening and by dinner time, I had shared Peace Corps stories with three RPCVs and chatted with spouses from Sierra Leone, Angola and the UK. We talked about Peace Corps life and we talked about life in the world of development work. Perhaps the most interesting part of the evening was sitting between children and adults at the dinner table (more Turkey, stuffing etc. to the point that I was happily ready to burst) and hearing how the children would complain about the prospect of visiting Kente cloth villages and bead making sites because they'd be away from friends and perhaps out of cell phone coverage. I guess you can take the teen out of America without changing the priorities.

The day after Thanksgiving started with real coffee and a bowl of cereal with cold milk (luxury!!) and was followed by a meeting with another former Peace Corps Volunteer. For a few months, I have traded e-mails with my APCD, fellow volunteers and an RPCV from the late 60's regarding a halfway house in Accra. The RPCV has lived throughout Africa for around thirty years and is now starting a halfway house in Accra and hopes to receive help from current volunteers. Travis and I met this man and discussed the prospect of introducing snail rearing, mushroom cultivation and the growing of Moringa. The goal is to establish a safe place for recovering alcoholics to stay while providing them with income generating activities. The idea seems feasible but between a day at the Ambassador's house and a day with a well established RPCV with expendible income for projects, I started to lose my bearing regarding capacity building and low income projects. I had a great time and did my best to put weight back on (I'm still 18 lbs. lighter than I was when I arrived) but I was very ready to get back to Bormase.

I spent two days in Bormase before returning to Accra for mid-service medical. I've now spent three days providing one urine sample, three stool samples and receiving my first dental cleaning in 16 months. From here, I'm headed to the all volunteer conference near the training site in Kukurantumi where we'll all be consolidated in preparation for any problems related to the December 7th election. I predict a run-off but hope for no serious problems. At this point, all one can do is hope that things run smoothly and that peace is maintained.

That's all for now.
Love to all
Ira

Urban garden in rural Ghana

2008-11-24T13:03:00.000-08:00

Now that you know that Kua is doing well, I think it's appropriate that I update what I'm actually doing. After a few days with the trainees (I was scheduled to help facilitate a cross sector training session but ended up overseeing more than doing anything) and playing basketball for the first time in over a year (I made my first shot but air balled the second and many others terribly) I had just enough time to do some weeding before traveling north. Harmattan season has arrived and Northern Ghana is quickly approaching dry season. While the south of Ghana only suffers a few months without consistent rain, the three northern regions suffer through as many as five dry months each year.

Two days of travel brought me past stocked market towns and to the fast-drying north. I left Kumasi at 3am one day, left Tamale at 5am the following day and arrived in Kpendua around noon. After greeting cheifs, elders and other important people, I sat in on a Women's Group meeting and Cheri and I conducted an HIV/AIDS lesson for the local football team. 25 teen aged males gathered at the local clinic at 8pm for the lesson. We asked questions to gauge the general knowledge and later did our best to dispel rumors that HIV/AIDS is restricted to people living in big cities. As expected, the first few questions (after translation) were greeted with silence, the group warmed up to us and by the end, questions were flowing and several attendees were able to perform a proper condom demonstration only fifteen minutes after I made one of my own.

Yesterday (Sunday) morning, some local farmers gathered at Cheri's house at 8am for some farming techniques. I showed the group how to maximize space and efficiency during the dry season by using some urban farming techniques. As a group, we filled an empty 45 kilogram rice sack with soil and chicken manure with rocks stacked through the middle (water follows the path of the rocks and spreads more easily toward the bottom of the bag). We then cut holes around the outside of the bag and put seeds in each hole. As the seeds germinate, the seedlings will seek sunlight and grow out the side of the bag. While taking only four square feet of floor space, we were able to make space for nearly thirty seeds (pepper and onion). We also made a seedbed for other seeds in case the initial planting is not successful. The second lesson consisted of the preparation of manure tea (sounds appetizing right?). The group used chicken manure (I actually traveled through the country with at least 20 lbs. of chicken manure in my duffel bag) and wrapped it in fabric. The fabric was then suspended inside a bucket of water and covered with a clear sheet of plastic. The manure tea will sit for two weeks and after that time will have drawn nutrients from the manure and will be ready to spread on the farm.

Since I live in the fertile south, it's very difficult to convince farmers that there are more efficient ways to go about their daily work. When working in the north, where each and every farmer struggles to maintain a respectable farm, the lesson was received incredibly well. I fielded a series of questions and sent many farmers away happy with what onion seeds remained.

I'm having a hard time gaining traction at my own site and my time in Kpendua was very refreshing. I'll travel to Accra for Thanksgiving (at the Ambassador's house) and then return to Bormase fresh.

I trudged through a swamped Tamale market today (a political rally brought thousands of spectators and their motorbikes) and I'm really dragging now. I'll be up at 4:30am tomorrow and have a 15 hour bus ride to look forward to.

Love to all
Ira

Updates all around

2008-11-13T01:38:00.000-08:00

The first update is in regards to my last blog. To show you how far from intuitive the phonetics of Krobo are, please not that Mayim is actually spelled Ngmayem. Oops.

The adventures of Kua have continued and show no signs of slowing down. I went to Kukurantumi (the new training site) last Saturday for the trainer vs. trainee football match. I successfully left the house without rousing Kua but as I biked down the road, I realized that I had forgotten my cleats and would have to go back. I got back and was greeted by a very excited Kua. I asked Paul to hold her back while I biked away but as I looked back, I saw that the wily dog had given him the slip and was in hot pursuit. Since I was on a nice bicycle and was going 5K on a mostly downhill road, I decided I simply outrun the dog and she'd have to turn back. I sped my way down the road and after a few minutes, I saw no signs of her behind me. I arrived at the junction and dropped my bike at a friends house before walking the last 50 meters to the roadside. When I got to the road, I was met by a limping, out of breath Kua. I was shocked!! I was moving at a fairly fast pace and Kua is not only short legged but is also pregnant. That's right, despite the debacle that was my trip to Kumasi for a spaying, Kua is pregnant.

A few months ago, I was confused as to why so many male dogs were lingering around the house. I've had female dogs in the past but I've obviously never lived among so many stray dogs. I thought that maybe the spaying would keep Kua from conceiving but wouldn't keep male dogs from chasing after her. Each time I'd return from time away from site, I'd find at least one dog following Kua everywhere she went. I chased and shooed them away and after some time I figured that the dogs had gotten tired of being chased. Wrong again! The deed had been done. A few weeks ago, Kua's milk glands started growing noticeably and it seems that she's now only a month or so away from delivery. I was initially annoyed but now realize that I'll have 2 months with puppies running around my house. I spoke about the prospect of puppies with Stephen and he let me know that one of the cats is also pregnant. The Bormase family continues to grow.

And I digress. Rather than biking 5k uphill with Kua, I decided to travel with her to the football match. She was tired enough to be less of a hassle but as you can imagine, a white man carrying a dog in his arms (I don't let her walk around on unknown busy streets) gets some funny looks.

This years training group couldn't hold a candle to ours and the match was a lopsided 7-3. The highlight was having a chief play goalkeeper for our team. Nana, the nephew of the Ashanti King and the chief of Anamasi, fearlessly defended the net for the last 15 minutes of our match. Only a penalty kick got past him.

Kua laid lazily on the sideline and limped behind me after the match. After a thorough inspection, I saw that she had worn holes into the padding of her paws. She was so anxious to follow me on my bicycle that she wore holes in her paws.

The trip home was interesting. Kua and I arrived at the junction in the middle of the day (it's HOT this time of year) and she limped slowly behind me. Each time we found the slightest bit of shade, I would stop and allow her to burrow in the cool soil and pant away for a few minutes. The trip took over an hour but was nice. I can't overwork the pregnant Kua.

P.S. Between my time in Kumasi and my return to Bormase, I developed a series of blisters on my left elbow. The first day, I had a curling red line with one blister. On the second day, I had no fewer than five blisters along the line. I thought that it may be a worm so I ate pawpaw seeds (local de-wormer) and also took a proper de-wormer but saw no signs of improvement. I've since applied a warm compress and the blisters have gone away. I'll send pictures to the medical office to be sure it's nothing that will come pack but it sure was ugly!!

Love to all.
Ira

Mayim and more

2008-11-05T11:15:00.000-08:00

As you all know, the world has changed since I last posted. I'll let the pundits comment on the political changes while I do my best to catch you up to speed on the happenings of my life in Ghana.

Blake and I led a one hour session on Moringa at training. We spoke to about 45 new trainees and at least a dozen Ghanaian Peace Corps trainers about all aspects of Moringa. Aside from a loose outline, I pretty much winged the presentation and I feel that it went very well. A number of great questions were asked and I was reminded again of how much I've actually learned while in Ghana. Questions such as "How do we plant the seed?" shocked me at first but also made me realize that despite my title as an Agro-Forestry Volunteer, I really didn't have much experience planting anything before I arrived. The new group seems great and will definitely be a good addition to Peace Corps Ghana. After 5 week, they have not had anyone leave. I wonder if it's that they all really like it or if they're worried to be the first person to go. In our group, it took only 36 hours or so for somebody to leave and the stigma was gone almost immediately. We shall see.

I went straight from the training site to Cape Coast to meet up with Cheri and two of her friends from America. I saw Elmina Castle (I didn't see it with my Dad) and though the tour wasn't as thorough or interesting, it was still shocking to think that 12 million slaves had walked through the same grounds and 8 million of them were shipped away alive. Aside from the 12 million that actually arrived at Elmina (it started out as a trade hub for gold and other minerals) countless more died during the southern trek. Some walked for as many as 8 months before arriving at the coast. The numbers are astonishing and the cells are frighteningly small. At Cape Coast Castle, 200 men were held in a single room for 3 months before being shipped off. A mark on the wall (as high as my knee) shows how high the feces, vomit and urine would get before the slaves were moved. Men literally wasted away in their own filth below a ceiling that served as the floor on which other men attended church services. Simply amazing.

After Cheri's friends left, she and I went back to Bormase for some farming and relaxation. She and I helped the family harvest Cassava. We helped Paul and Tekuor (pronounced like Techwoah) on four round trips from farm. The four of us loaded sacks and baskets with the heavy tubers and walked the 400+ meter bush path with the loads on our head. 11 year old Paul (he looks maybe 8) easily matched me with the load he carried.

Cheri also helped me weed my Moringa farm. The Caterpillar rope (that's the name of the evil weeds that dominate my farm) has been completely cleared from half of the farm and I'm motivated to finish the job when I return.

On October 30, Stephen, Lydie, Maku, Eva, Tekuor, Paul, Cheri and I traveled to Krobo mountain for Mayim, an annual Krobo festival. The first Krobo people to live in Ghana moved from Nigeria and settled on Krobo mountain in the late 1800s. Every year, Krobos from around the area climb the mountain and celebrate their ancestry. The crowd was very young and excited. Compared to the festivals in Cheri's village, the feel was completely different. Up north, traditional clothing is worn and since her village is nearly 100% Muslim, there is no alcohol present. At Mayim, people wore provocative clothing and were drinking heavily.

Our Bormase group met up with some of Stephen's friends and started our hike. It was scorching hot and the mountain was steep but not terribly strenuous. We hung out with at least a hundred other Ghanaians at the peak and relaxed while enjoying the day. We sat for at hour or two before hiking back down. As usual, I heard greetings of "Obruni," and "Blefono," the whole way down. Being able to respond with somewhat witty replies in each language really diffused the situation and lightened the mood. I'm not very strong in Krobo and I'm quite weak in Twi but any response works when I'm expected to be completely clueless.

Once we all reached the bottom, we met at a central location before breaking off in small groups to join the huge crowd for some dancing and celebration. At one point, Cheri and I decided to go into the heart of the crowd so that we could get a true sense of the celebration. Up to that point, we had been a bit reserved for fear of having our pockets picked. To avoid such a situation, I took my wallet and camera from my pockets and put them in my backpack. I gave the backpack to Paul with the idea that he'd stay with the group and protect my items. When Cheri and I got to the middle of the crowd, we turned to find Paul only a few paces behind us with my bag slung across his chest. Recognizing the danger of the situation, we immediately started back to our central meeting point. On the way, several groups of Ghanaians stepped in front of us to engage Obrunis in dancing. No more than twenty feet from the rest of our group, a woman started shouting and pointing at a commotion nearby. When I got closer, I saw that Paul was holding my backpack but had had the small pocket ripped open by a thief. My personal items were strewn on the ground and I could see random items in various hands. I pushed and grabbed and even ripped the shirt of a man while retrieving my camera. The melee didn't allow me time to think so I have no idea whether I was scuffling with friends of foes. I guess a 6'3" blond guy in a sea of sub six foot Ghanaians serves as a beacon of hope for thieves.

In the end, my wallet and a small white first aid kit (must have looked nice) were gone and the thief got away. While taking stock of my items, we realized that Stephen and Tekuor (she's 11 or 12) had left the group. It was getting dark and we had no way to figure out where they were. In the end, we decided to walk to the roadside and hope that they'd have a similar idea. We came across Tekuor in the company of a pair of helpful strangers and found Stephen at the roadside. A potentially disastrous situation resulted in only a lost wallet and money. Nothing irreparably damaged.

Since then, Obama has been elected president and I can't think of a thing to complain about.

Love to all.

Coming soon

2008-11-04T18:09:00.000-08:00

I'm watching what appears to be a great election unfold. I'll compose a new entry soon.

Love to all

Peace Corps Inheritance

2008-10-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

With a refreshing Vision Quest behind me, I returned to Bormase ready to get some work done. Moringa had been drying in my new makeshift drying apparatus (I've slung a synthetic mesh across my veranda and have leave spread over the 25' x 4' surface). Gusting winds and a leaky roof have caused small portions to mold but after sorting through the mass of leaves, Stephen and I were ready to make our first batch of Moringa powder.

Stephen brought out a mortar and pestle (normally used for fufu or other starch meals) and after maybe thirty minutes of mixing and pounding, he and I (emphasis on the former) had a large ziplock back of bright green Moringa powder. In Accra, 50g of Moringa powder sells for 5 Ghana Cedis so we've produced a good amount.

On the second day of pounding Moringa (we produced another ziplock bag, making around a kilo in total) Stephen told me about an alternation that occurred while I was sleeping the night before. While drinking Akpeteshie, two brothers started to argue and then to fight. The younger brother (also the local football coach) was being beaten by his older brother (a member of the bead group) and threatened to get a knife or cutlass. Shortly after the fight was broken up, the younger brother went to his room and indeed returned with a cutlass. He chased his brother into the bush and hit him across the face with it. Patrick (he lives next door) heard the commotion and followed the pair into the bush. He found the brothers still quarreling and took the cutlass. Patrick then ran up the road in order to use the satellite phone where I live. Dorothy helped wrap the wound and when a car arrived from Sekesua, Patrick and Samuel rushed to the hospital for stitches. Samuel's life was saved but he has a gash from above his right eyebrow to near his chin.

I went to greet Samuel after he returned from the hospital and found him sitting with his brother and some friends. The brothers acted as though nothing had happened and for the sake of tradition, we all took a shot of Akpeteshie for Samuel's health (it was 7:30am).

Stephen and I discussed how this incident should be treated. He told me that it would be best if they could send the brother to jail for two days as a deterrent. It looks as though there will be no serious repercussions for the younger brother.

After a few days, everything in Bormase was back to normal. My chest was still sore from my football collision but aside from that, everything was great.

I attended the monthly baby weighing and cut more Moringa for harvest. On Tuesday, I traveled to Apimsu with Kua and she and I paid Casey what may be a last visit at his site. The 2006-2008 Omnibus is approaching their close of service and all who are not extending will leave by the end of November. Casey and I hung out with his neighbors and sat through a monster rain storm. In the morning, he sent me off with a great bag of goodies. I've "inherited" spices, a french press and many other great additions. Taking things from another volunteer causes a strange mix of emotions. Casey has been a great neighbor and was one of my trainers when I first arrived. He's not being replaced and once he and the rest of the group has left, I'll join the ranks of the "old Omnibus." On another note, my kitchen is greatly improved and I'm approaching the last year of service. Very strange indeed.

On Thursday, Dorothy and I joined a few other volunteers for the first day of an annual polio immunization drive. I brought along a bag full of sticker (inherited from Casey) and at the end of the day, 84 children aged 5 and under were going around having received a polio immunization, a Vitamin a supplement, a de-wormer and a fine sticker.

I traveled to Accra on Friday and missed the following two days of immunizations but learned that nearly 250 more local children received immunizations and other vital supplements. Though my help was far from vital the the program, it was really nice to get out and volunteer in new communities.

I've been in Accra since Friday. I met Cheri for a very fine dinner and have since been waiting to have a chest x-ray administered. Our PCMO suggested that I have an x-ray to be sure that nothing was out of place but I missed office hours of Friday and had to wait around until Monday morning. On Monday, I arrived at the clinic at 10am to learn the machine had spoiled and I'd have to come another time. I returned to the Peace Corps office and was referred to a different hospital on the other end of Accra. I arrived and learned that I'd need to register with the hospital ID and that the referral wasn't enough. My Peace Corps ID has also spoiled (apparently you still need to empty your pockets when doing wash by hand) and I had to return to the office for a new ID. I arrived in time for the weekly office-wide meeting and and waited through the meeting and lunch hour before being issued a new ID. At around 2pm, I returned to the clinic with my new ID and learned that the registration machine was spoiled and I'd have to return the next day. That night, I received a call from a fellow volunteer and learned that she was on her way to the airport and out of Ghana. This volunteer was suspected of breaking a rule and decided to terminate her service early. She'd been Accra for two days and received notice of her departure time a mere 5 hours before she was due to check in.

I said my good-byes and will do my best to help tie up remaining loose ends. I received a negative x-ray this morning and will know more in a week. At long last, it's time to get out of Accra and back to site. I'll visit the training site on Thursday for a Moringa presentation so the whirlwind is sure to continue.

All is well despite the confusion.

Love you all

Piedro and pasta

2008-10-09T08:42:00.000-07:00

I wasn't really looking forward to Vision Quest. I felt similar to the way I felt last year preparing to leave for my own Vision Quest. Was I ready to sit with a total stranger for five days and struggle to make conversation and get through the day?

Last year was fine and this round easily matched last years fun and insight. I met Kevin (my Vision Quester) and Joshua (Travis' Vision Quester) at around 10am on Saturday morning. The three of us walked and chatted while working our way through back alleys and crowded streets. We met Travis at a out standard gas station/chop bar and sat over beers for a while. Kevin moved from San Bruno while Joshua moved from Tennessee. We shared stories of home, food, plans etc. before making a quick tour of Koforidua and beginning the journey to Bormase. Dorothy was traveling for a church retreat so the house was being run by Stephen, Raphael (home from school), Eva, Maku and Paul.

Shortly after arriving, the subject of filling time came up. Kevin took a stab and asked if I knew how to play Piedro. Perfect!!! Kevin and I taught Travis and Joshua to play and we were set. Over the next two days, we toured the farm, harvested a few yams and some cassava. We visited the Moringa farm, looked at Patrick's bead set-up, ate Ghanaian food and even managed a pancake breakfast. On Sunday afternoon, when Piedro was getting old and the we all felt a bit restless, my neighbor John came by to ask if we wanted to join the tro going to the football match.

The four of us piled into the last row of the tro and sat sweating while six or seven Ghanaians joined each additional row. One man sat on the floor behind out seat and when we finally started moving, he completed the surround sound chanting that filled the car for the entirety of the next 2 hours. I then joined pre-game chats while the other three Blefonos drew a crown while playing frisbee.

A few minutes into the game, I'd heard taunts and jokes from up and down the sidelines but had also played a crisp enough game to earn almost as many encouraging words. The style of play fell quickly into the standard kickball variety in which the ball spends as much time twenty feet in the air as it does on the ground. Maybe fifteen minutes into the game, a cross was blasted high into the air from the right wing. I never took my eyes off the ball and as I met the ball at the top of my leap, my head made great contact with the ball at what seemed to be the exact same time as some part of the keeper met my chest and my back greeted the dirt. I was standing again in time to see the ball fly over the crossbar. Looking to minimize the damage, I jogged into position for the goal kick as though unaffected by the contact. I felt alright within a few minutes and after an unwarranted penalty kick, an own goal, 70 minutes of football and a shanked volley at an open goal by yours truly we were ready to go.

To add gusto to the noisy and crowded tro, we added the sweat of fifteen footballers on the way back to Bormase. Passengers hung off of the back and sides of the tro as the boisterous bunch chanted as though returning from a World Cup victory. Banku and bucket baths rounded out the night and we woke up ready to move on.

Monday consisted of a trip to Asesewa and time with a volunteer on his way out. Casey met us for beers and offered the perspective of a volunteer after 2+ years of service with less than a month remaining. We ate rice and stew and were caught in a monster of a rainstorm before arriving at Travis' house in Dawu for dinner. Joshua shared his culinary expertise and made a fine pasta dish. With 8 years spent in various kitchens in and around Knoxville, Joshua was able to make a very fine meal over which the four of us drank wine and chatted as though we were old friends sharing dinner in America.

We ate more good meals, checked out Travis' projects and gradually ran out of energy as Vision Quest wound down. Travis and I parted ways with Kevin and Josh yesterday (Wednesday) morning after showing a wide spectrum of what Peace Corps Ghana can offer. In return, we got two reminders of how much energy and passion arrive in each trainee. We're no longer the new Omnibus Volunteers. The group that helped break us into Ghana will leave within the next month and we will follow only a year after that. We're coming to a new beginning in Ghana. One last cycle of seasons and harvests before we're off.

Love to all
Ira

New Omnibus

2008-10-02T03:19:00.000-07:00

While working on the Moringa Manual (a group write up following the conference in Burkina Faso) in Accra, I got a chance to join some of my fellow volunteers in greeting the new group of omnibus volunteers as they entered Ghana with wide eyes, masses of luggage and incredibly clean clothes.

I only spent limited time with the new volunteers but their arrival made me think more of some of my own concerns when I first arrived.

In a blog entry I wrote before leaving America, I wrote regarding my concerns with Ghana's currency re-denomination, the 2008 election and the discovery of oil off of the Gulf of Guinea.

With a year under my belt, I can now give a better look at these three issues.

As the dollar fell further and further behind other major currencies, it gained a great deal on the Ghana Cedi. When I arrived, one dollar could get you around 94 Ghana Pesewas or .94 Ghana Cedis. 18% inflation has helped that exchange rate change to a point at which one dollar will now fetch one Ghana Cedi and fifteen Pesewas or 1.15 Ghana Cedis. Unfortunately, we Peace Corps Volunteers are still paid 206 Ghana Cedis per month. We were given a "cost of living survey," and an opportunity to get a raise based on the results but unfortunately we fell 3 surveys short of the requisite 75 percent of volunteers.

Items that used to cost 300 cedis (now 3 pesewas) immediately increased to 5 pesewas in order to eliminate the hassle of 1 pesewa coins. This price increase happened all across the board and combined with the food crisis has made food hard to afford. Another difficulty is that banks and ATM machines give 10 Ghana Cedi notes. Most volunteers live in communities in which 10 Ghana Cedis is a small fortune and getting change is next to impossible. For now, the currency exchange has eliminated some very dirty notes from circulation but has also made financial transactions more complicated. It's not uncommon to buy an item that costs 25 pesewas with a one Ghana Cedi note only to find that the merchant can't make change. Can you imagine giving a dollar for an item that cost a quarter and not having change available? It's an odd situation.

As in America, an election is fast approaching in Ghana. The NDC and the NPP are still mixed in a tight contest. About a month ago, violence broke out around Tamale in the Northern Region. It was reported that an NPP kiosk was burned to the ground. In retaliation, over 20 homes in a predominantly NDC village were burned and a few people were killed. It was also reported that individuals were "stock piling weapons," in Tamale and waiting for the end of Ramadan before acting. Ramadan has come and gone with not news about violence but for safety purposes, all volunteers will be consolidated for a few days before and after the election. It's hard to get a true read on what will happen with the election. There's no news ticker to follow and no straw poll to check. News is more transparently biased than it is in the US so we'll just have to wait and see. As far as the American elections go, I sent in my absentee ballot for the US election yesterday. I was worried that it wouldn't arrive in time but I feel as though I've done my part in a VERY important election.

The discovery of oil has proved to be twice as large as was anticipated a year ago. Roughly 1.6 billion barrels of oil sit off the coast of Ghana. While speculation has been intense, it has been decided that drilling won't begin until 2010. I'll be gone but fear that Ghana may go down the same road as other oil rich African countries. Many Ghanaians are excited about the prospect of affordable gas and an influx of cash but I'm not sure how well it would be handled.

In other news, I have a Vision Quester coming to Bormase on Saturday. One of the new Environment volunteers will stay with me for 5 days as a way to see how a volunteer really lives. It should be interesting.

Love to all

Funeral season

2008-09-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago when I returned to Bormase from IST, I noticed that the "small girls," Maku and Augustina were not in the house. Upon asking Dorothy about the girls, I learned that Augustina was in Accra visiting her family while Maku was bereaved. Apparently, her 25 year old brother had complained of a headache while farming, was rushed to the hospital for treatment and given an IV but died shortly thereafter. Since autopsies are far from common practice in Ghana, the actual cause of death is unknown but Dorothy told me that the family suspects that he died of Malaria. Upon hearing this news, I asked if I could attend the funeral with Dorothy and if the would let me know once it was scheduled.

The funeral took place this past weekend. The night before the funeral, I learned that it would be a three day event. We would arrive on Friday and return Saturday after the body was brought to the cemetery. Some family members would stay through a Sunday church service but Dorothy and I would leave on Saturday with the majority of the visitors. I had set up an informal visit with one of Bormase's Chiefs on Saturday afternoon and it seemed as though we wouldn't be back in time. Since it was an informal visit, it wasn't a big deal but as our time of departure approached, I felt more and more anxious. The more anxious I felt, the more guilty I felt about wanting to skip a funeral while a 25 year old man lay dead and his 14 year old sister worked hard to prepare for the event.

At around 7am Friday morning, Dorothy and I joined a lorry and began our journey through several villages with names I can't even attempt to repeat. After 20 minutes of driving, we were in a part of Ghana I had never seen and the road was in horrendous shape. It seemed as though we were driving along a major fault line after an earthquake. A deep fissure split the one lane road down the middle and the driver of the fifteen passenger, no-suspension tro had to negotiate the road with great precision. The view was incredible but the ride not particularly comfortable.

Our first stop was at nearly 8:30 and we had missed our intended tro connection. Dorothy went to greet some friends she hadn't seen in some time while I sat with some market women. As usual, the farther I get from Bormase, the more attention I get from children. Under age 2, they either cry and run/crawl or stare with a mix of confusion and wonder. Once the children can speak, they typically yell "Blefono, Blefono, Blefono." until I respond and then have nothing else to say. I understand that most of these children see white people rarely if ever and while I hear "Blefono!" hundreds of times some days, I try to understand that each child only gets to yell it so often. Either way, it can fray my nerves.

After maybe a fifteen minute wait, Dorothy and I start on a long walk towards the next town. With a huge downhill grade followed by an equally impressive incline, I was ready for a good hour of walking. Within minutes, however, a tro came along and we were back on schedule. By 9:30, we were connected to a paved road and it was time to walk. As we walked and talked, I learned from Dorothy that Augustina will be staying with her family in Accra and won't return to Bormase. The future of her education (she's 12) is uncertain as her parents can't afford to send her to school. A boy named Paul (maybe 10?) had been around the house recently and will now help around the house. A serious game of musical beds is going on at my site, I have a hard time keeping track of who lives there.

Halfway into our walk, the clouds opened up and we were forced to take cover at a nearby house. A nice thing about rural Ghana is that you can pretty much go into the closest available house at the first sign of rain. We waited out the storm amongst a family and continued our trek along a very slippery mud road. We arrived at the funeral site a little after 10:30 and promptly greeted chiefs, elders and family members. I saw Maku for the first time in at least a month and then we sat for several hours.

As time went on, the rain started again, guests drank more and I sat. Akpeteshie (like Ghanaian moonshine) was passed amongst the elders, more and more people decided to test my Krobo. Many were pleased that I could greet and respond and explain where I'd come from while one particular woman (there's always at least one) made a point to say hello to me and follow it with a barrage of questions. She'd laugh when I didn't understand and she'd be on her way. This routine continued with at least a dozen visits throughout the afternoon. Of course she didn't speak enough English to explain what she was saying so she laughed at me while I bitterly fumed in silence.

By midday, a group of men had been arguing on and off for at least thirty minutes. Dorothy let me know that there was a dispute about the delivery of the corpse. The elder chief sent a group of individuals to the mortuary in order to have the body brought to the funeral site. The youth chief (each Krobo village has several chiefs) also chose several representatives to go but was overruled by the elder chief. Since the deceased was amongst the youth, his friends had worked ceaselessly over the past several weeks in order to prepare for the event and without warning, they had been passed over at the last minute.

For the next two hours, as the center of the compound filled with sloppy mud, representatives from the two parties went back and forth about the issue and haggled about the cost of retribution. Because of the delay, the rain and the state of the road, the process of delivering the corpse was far more difficult after the elders agreed to pay the youth group 15 Ghana Cedis in retribution.

At around 3pm, a group of young women entered the center of the compound to sing, dance, drum and slap palm fronds in the mud. From one side of the compound, young women and at least a dozen nursing babies looked on. Male elders looked on from the young women's left. Female elders looked on from a third side while a group of women and young children gathered around cauldron sized pots as they prepared food on the fourth side. I sat somehow between the male and female elders and did my best not to be splattered with mud as it flew from the quagmire of a compound floor.

After several minutes of drumming and dancing, Dorothy told me to get Maku, have her sit on my lap and hold onto her. Uncomfortable but accommodating, I did so and soon understood why. The steaming hood of a taxi pulled up to the entrance to the compound and all of the women started wailing. With my arm wrapped around Maku's midriff, I could literally feel her anguish as her brother was carried from the back of the taxi. There was no coffin, he was wrapped tightly in fine cloth as though temporarily mummified. With a few men at his head and a few at his feet, the young man was carried through the center of the compound while Maku's stomach convulsed with the strain of tears, gasps of breath, wailing and struggle as she tried to go towards her dead big brother. My mind runs through how it might seem inappropriate for me to have this teenage girl on my lap when nobody really knows who I am or why I'm there . I didn't know if it was common practice to hold family members back or if it was just an idea of Dorothy's. I tried to put myself in Maku's place with very little success. I also thought of how strange it was to be at the funeral of an age mate while his widow and three children looked on. This mix of emotions ran through me while I had possible the least connection the the deceased. I'm sure my face showed next to nothing.

Once the body was placed in a room, the gathered guests returned to what they'd been doing. Some ate, many drank and I sat. After another hour with my bony behind on a wood bench, Dorothy and I took a break for food. After my third meal of the day, I took time to read and decompress. There was no shortage of visitors while I read. Young children either stared or dared to get as close as they could. Men and women either politely greeted or gave mini-Krobo quizzes. Not quite relaxing but I was able to finish my book.

As bedtime approached, we were told that no beds were available and we were to be driven to a neighboring village to sleep. Dorothy didn't accept this arrangement as she didn't want to leave Maku.

I ended up sharing a straw mat on the floor with Dorothy and Maku's sister while two babies slept on a sheet beside us. With a backpack for a pillow, a terribly uncomfortable bed and a soundtrack of blaring music and crying babies, I barely slept.

At 5:45am, it was time to view the body of the deceased. Delirious, I trudged through the mud in order to see Maku's brother for the first time. By 6:15, I was watching steam rise from my body as I bucket bathed. By 6:30, I was watching a small boy as he was caned/slapped and forcefully bathed. He had been covered in dried mud and when told to bathe, he refused and insulted his elders. Talk about sensory overload early in the morning.

After a breakfast of kenkey (fermented corn dough) Dorothy and I went to join everyone as funeral announcements were made. Maku's father repeatedly approached and thanked me for coming while asking questions and insisting that Dorothy translate, even when I understood. Within fifteen minutes, I felt like I was going to pass out. I did my best to stick it out but had to ask if I could return to the straw mat to lie down. Within an hour, I had a fever. Within two hours, I was violently shivering. We were 5k away from any source of transportation and the funeral wasn't even halfway over so I napped on and off and shivered until the body was brought to the cemetery and everyone returned. Small children occasionally peeked their head in for an extra peak at the blefono but it didn't take long for me to resort to yelling and slamming the door. Eventually, I told Dorothy that I was pretty sure that I had Malaria again and had to leave as soon as possible.

By shortly after 2pm, we were able to leave. On the way out, I shook hands with all of the elders and family members. I tried to smile as "Blefono, Blefono, Blefono," was yelled at me from all angles. I tried to wait patiently as Dorothy chatted for what felt like hours (probably only a few minutes) with various drunk guests. I posed for a picture with Maku, Dorothy and several small children. Finally, as we were on our way out, one last man came up to me and in broken english asked if I could give him a job.

I gingerly walked for 45 minutes along a muddy road, under the mid-day sun with only a bottle of rain water until we reached the main junction. Dorothy went back towards Bormase and I went my own way via Koforidua to Accra. It felt almost like I was sleepwalking from place to place until between Koforidua and Accra, the sky turned black and we were hit with an intense downpour. Sitting in the jump seat (fold down seat that attaches to the benches in some tros) I had to hunch over to keep from hitting my head on the ceiling. With no seat belt and next to no visibility, I sat tensely as we passed a few accidents. We made it safely to greater Accra and sat in deadlocked traffic for 2 hours without moving 50 meters.

At 9:30, the three hour turned six and a half hour trip came to an end and I arrived at the medical unit. I had called the Peace Corps Medical Officer at 5 to tell him that I'd be in Accra at around 7. When I arrived, he was still stuck in traffic and I sat until nearly 11 before finally getting the necessary medicine. My fever was down to 100.6 ( I have no idea how high it was before) and I could finally go to sleep.

I've been in Accra since Saturday night but wasn't quite up to writing this entry. I feel good now and will go back to site tomorrow.

Love to all

PEPFAR IST

2008-09-15T07:48:00.000-07:00

In case you're not following the acronyms, PEPFAR IST stands for Presidential Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief In Service Training. I just spent a week in Kumasi learning about HIV/AIDS statistics and also discussing current and future projects.

Most of the week was repetitive but on a few occasions, we broke into groups of Ghanaians/Americans and asked each other "gender role," questions. I learned that many Ghanaians believe that HIV/AIDS and homosexuality were "imported," to Ghana just as drugs and other unwanted things had been. Members of different tribes discussed how gender roles differ. In you're a Dagomba male, you have all power in the family and women and children defer to you. In all tribes, if something bad happens (say something is spilled or broken) and a man has occurred it to happen, all in the room will still blame the smallest child in the room. Males inherit from males amongst Dagombas while in the Akan (Ashanti) tribe, the earnings of a man's children go to the husband of that man's sisters. It's not uncommon for a man to push his nieces and nephews into work earlier in life so that the trickle up will start sooner.

Women talked about a phenomenon in secondary school (high school) in which older girls take younger girls under their wing and give hands on lessons of how to pleasure themselves and how to pleasure men. Until the conversation started, none of the women had considered that these actions could be considered to be homosexual. The difficult topic of "what is sex?" came up and we weren't able to clear it up. A Dagomba chief told us that according to Islam, sex doesn't take place until semen is present. After that point, a man must wash before doing anything else. This man considers masturbation sex while others only consider sexual intercourse. Since we were discussing STIs and HIV/AIDS in particular, we tried to focus on the risks involved in any particular activity.

Other sessions involved bickering about fashion and other things. Some men talked about how hard it is to control themselves when women dress in a certain way. Women obviously were upset by these comments and the conversation took a bad turn. I tried to talk about how in a society in which gender roles are as they are in Ghana, while it's not inappropriate for women to dress provocatively, it may not be smart to do so since men in "power roles," feel that it's OK to respond in such a way. I said that it's never appropriate for a man to assault or rape a woman and that their dress is not an invitation but I couldn't get my words out before being interrupted and talked over by a volunteer with strong beliefs. I was trying to agree with her and give Ghanaian men a chance to hear her argument from another mouth and from a man but unfortunately I couldn't finish. Such topics are always tricky since one can never know the history of each person in the room. With 20+ representatives from each gender, it's likely that at least one victim and one aggressor sat in the room but one can never know.

All around, the information provided was great and it was nice to see volunteers (some of whom I hadn't seen since November) but the time spent also showed how many differences there are not only between American and Ghanaian cultures but also within Ghana.

I'm on my way back to site. One year ago today, I met all of my fellow volunteers in Philadelphia for some pre-service training. As many volunteers suggested would happen, some days go painfully slowly but the weeks, months and years fly by.

Love to all
Ira

IST 2

2008-09-04T08:34:00.000-07:00

Last week, the 2007 group of Environment volunteers met in Kumasi for a second "in service training." Gray and I composed the agenda for the meeting and had it approved for funding by PC administration. For the most part, it allowed our group to meet again and discuss any projects/ideas that have come up since March. In the past, IST 2 meetings have been predominantly negative and are spent bashing Peace Corps more than providing productive feedback.

Our meeting was great. At first most volunteers were talking about how little it felt like they had accomplished during the first year. As time went on and all volunteers shared similar stories, it made each of us realize that we're dealing with a lot of cultural difficulties yet getting a good deal done in addition to the hardships.

I have new ideas for projects and really feel like I have to get on the ball if I'm going to see any of them come to fruition.

Gray accompanied me on my way south as he had to visit the medical office. We had a good 4 hour conversation about our time in Ghana, our time leading up to Peace Corps and more. We talked about deciding to join the Peace Corps, we agreed that we couldn't think of our lives without this experience etc. We talked about how much more free and liberated we felt after havind done something like this. As we talked about how much a 9-5 job can really restrain you, we pulled to an intersection and saw two dead bodies lying in the road. While stopped at the intersection, the angle didn't provide an appropriate angle and we weren't sure what we were looking at. Dead sheep, dogs and goats aren't uncommon and we crossed our fingers that our eyes were deceiving us.

As we crossed the intersection, we saw that it wasn't one sheep in the road but that there were two dead bodies laying there with twenty or more Ghanaians standing on the median talking. Nobody was tending the the bodies and nothing was used to cover them. Neither Gray nor I had seen a dead body while in Ghana and we were shocked. Another volunteer from our group saw a young boy hit by a truck during the volunteers first month at site. The boy was torn to pieces what remained landed at the volunteers feet. That volunteer is still in Ghana.

As much as our service is about helping our communities and teaching Ghanains about American culture, just as much is based on exposure to Ghana and life in a developing country.

The two men in the road may have been hit by a car and they may have been beaten after trying to rob a car, I'll never know. Either way, it was a shocking experience and is emblazened in my mind.

Administrative separation

2008-08-25T01:30:00.000-07:00

Within hours of writing my PIP blog entry, I received a call from our Safety and Security Officer asking me why I had been out of the country without permission. In addition to unapproved vacation time, Danny was talking about the travel that I did at night while out of the country. Burkina Faso suggests that volunteers do not travel from region to region at night because there have been "incidents" in the past.

I assured Danny that I had turned in the appropriate forms and that I had not made any unnecessary trips at night while in the north. Sammy was traveling so I wasn't able to confirm that I had turned in my vacation request form and had given verbal notice to Sammy well before leaving my site.

Concerned about the situation, I called Bob (Country Director) to ask what was going on and how this had come up so long after the fact. Bob told me that the Burkina Faso Medical Officers reported that PCVs in Ghana had contacted them about receiving a ride while traveling in Burkina at night. Bob assured me that people have been "admin sep'ed" for less and that it was a serious situation. I was surprisingly concerned for somebody who had not done anything wrong. I told Bob that I was traveling with Cheri and Gray and that the three of us had all turned in our forms when necessary. Upon hearing this, Bob told me that he hadn't received Cheri's form either and that if both us us had traveled without permission, it was DEFINITELY a big deal. Again, I was concerned despite having full knowledge that neither of us had done anything wrong.

I forwarded Bob all old e-mails that I had sent to admin. regarding the vacation but wasn't able to find anything official. I texted Sammy but he was unreachable by phone and I had to go back to site with a big question mark hanging over my head. I called Bob one last time before leaving Koforidua and learned that Cheri's form had in fact been turned in but that mine was missing. I told him that I was planning a trip to Accra Sunday (yesterday) and would make sure to speak with him Monday morning. I then left the land of internet and phone reception and returned to site.

After a somewhat restless night sleep, I woke the the usual commotion of my site. Dorothy, Eva, Augustina and Maku were all yelling and causing a stir at 6am. On this particular morning, the commotion was a bit different from normal so I went outside to see what was happening. Back near the chicken pens, the four girls joined a male neighbor of ours in swinging the longest implements available at a huge black snake!!! By the time I arrived, the snake had been knocked from the tree and was writhing around on the ground while being pummeled from all angles. The snakes head had been bashed and broken so the animal no longer posed a threat but stole the need for any morning caffeine. I was AWAKE!! The snake was about 7 feet long and black with a yellow bellow. I used a stick to poke and prod at the snake so I could get a good look at it and see it's true size. Though this snake could easily have killed any of us, I still felt sorry for it as it offered logy resistance to my manipulation of it's body (I think it was dead but still had some nerve activity). I took a picture and will add visual aid to this entry as soon as I can.

Emmanuel came out and cut the head off the snake so that he could bury body separate from head to ensure that it wouldn't come back. Why was I worried about confusion with paperwork when I was living amongst deadly vipers? Ghana always manages to put things in perspective for me and I'm very grateful for that.

A breakfast of groundnut paste and honey on bread washed down by a hot cup of Moringa tea brought my day back towards normal routine and my Friday continued. I managed to get a hold of Sammy and he assured me that he'd have somebody check his mailbox for my missing paperwork.

On Sunday morning, while traveling to Accra, I got a call from Bob telling me that my paperwork had shown up on Saturday and everything was fine. It somehow didn't make me feel much better that I had to call somebody in order to get paperwork processed six weeks after I had turned it in but at least I was in the clear.

I'm now in Accra picking up St. Ignatius football uniforms for the Bormase team and also wishing my best to Erica (our eleventh to leave and one of the best people currently in Ghana) before she leaves for home. I'm sad to see her leave but I can tell that it's the best move for her.

I'll be back to site today and then in Kumasi for 10 days (consecutive meetings).

Love to all.
Ira

Personal improvement plan

2008-08-21T08:05:00.000-07:00

When a Peace Corps Volunteer isn't performing as he/she should be, he/she is PIPed. The individual will be put on a Personal Improvement Plan during which they must make weekly reports to the Country Director and discuss goals upon which they'll base future success.

I've decided to put PIP myself. I feel as though I'm doing well enough as a volunteer (language still needs work) but there are a number of things that I planned to do when I came to Ghana and time is running out. As more tenured volunteers have their Close of Service, they often have items that they no longer need. In the past two months, I've "inherited," a guitar and a detailed yoga book. I also received several guitar manuals and I've since purchased a yoga mat. Can you believe that they started selling yoga mats at the market? They're not flying off the shelves by any means but it works for me.

Since my dad left, I've been weeding the Moringa field, working with bead makers, reading and personally improving my person. I can now play "Skip to my Lou," with the best of them and the hamstring tightness that I earn while weeding is methodically worked out on the new yoga mat.

I made the mistake of weeding the Moringa field from front to back. Each time I left for vacation or became busy with a new project, I'd have to start again where I left off. This time, I started from the farthest corner and it's like I'm looking for seedlings in the wall at Wrigley Field. The vines are out of control!!

My hands are neither clean nor wound free at any time but a good three hour weeding session with my ipod makes for a great afternoon. This daily session clears my mind and keeps my projects in order.

The PIP I'm on doesn't include current projects and "inherited," goods but I also bought a 6 ft. length of metal pipe (picture the pole supporting your nearest street sign) and bought a bag of cement. Tomorrow, Patrick and I are making a weight set. I will be able to weed the Moringa field, play guitar, read, lift weights, cook dinner and sleep on my nice thick mattress.

Without knowing it, I've been depriving myself of a number of available amenities. Joining Peace Corps gave me the idea that I'd be living without luxury for two plus years but after less than one year, luxury has taken a new meaning.

All around, things are good. There's more to say but I'll save it for next week in case my PIP takes up all my time.

Love to all
Ira

Back to the books

2008-08-14T04:07:00.000-07:00

With the travel agenda of the past three weeks, proper reading time has been hard to come by. Now that I'm settled in at site and can still finagle at least four hours of reading out of even the most jam packed work day, I'm back in the groove. This week I finally managed to finish "A Prayer for Owen Meany," and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," before starting on "Slaughterhouse Five."

Aside from checking on the Moringa farm (much of it looks great while other areas look as though I'm looking to harvest weeds) and meeting with bead makers, things in Bormase have been a bit slow.

Two nights ago, however, the Nartey home was given a little scare. As I neared my second REM cycle at around 10pm, I woke to hear somebody screaming "Mommy...Ira...Mommy...Ira." Groggily, I pulled myself out of bed and met Dorothy as she came from her room. Eva, Maku and Augustina share a room and the three of them had heard somebody banging on their door only minutes earlier. In the few steps between my bed and outside, I had pictured everything from a ten foot black mamba to a million rushing ants. When it turned out that a person had come to the house, Dorothy was off. She searched the house and went to the roadside where she met two boys. The boys immediately said "It wasn't us, we heard the girls screaming."

I didn't understand much else as I was half asleep and the remaining conversation was in Krobo and at very high speed. Over the past few days, Dorothy has contacted all the necessary people and believes that she met the culprits on the road. It is pretty clear that the didn't mean any harm but with the fear that Dorothy has since put in them, I'd be surprised to be awakened in a similar fashion any time soon.

Love to all
Ira

Miracle weight loss plan

2008-08-08T15:57:00.000-07:00

I left my dad at Kotoka Airport roughly an hour ago and he was a visibly changed man. Not only was he not soaking every article of clothing at every hour of the day but he was at least 25 pounds lighter!!

You too can come to Ghana, eat burgers, fries and pasta while enjoying 625ml beers with lunch and dinner. Eat what you want and you can still lose 25 lbs or more in only 3 weeks!!!

To counterbalance the loss in weight, I sent my dad home with at least 30 pounds of Ghanaian jewelry. The last few days of his trip were spent in Bormase where we harvested Moringa, toured the village and slept. We watched Patrick work endless hours to produce more beautiful jewelry to send to America. We visited the Sekesua market in order to see Dorothy at work. When there was a break in the action, it was nap time. It wasn't uncommon to sleep 10-12 hours per night and still work in a nap or two during the day. Ahhh Peace Corps life!!

While in Accra, we met with fellow Peace Corps Volunteer Emily (the 13th PCV from my group that my dad met while in country) and her Global Mama co-workers for dinner. Global Mamas is a fair trade company based in Cape Coast and Odumase. Emily works with batik printers and bead makers and our dinner involved talks about involving Bormase workers in production. I'm very excited about the prospect of involving my village in permanent business. We'll see how it works out but as things are now, Patrick has no health insurance and has a son sitting at home waiting for the necessary funds for further education. The shipment that my dad took along today should help for the meantime but once I'm gone I would love for Patrick and others to be able to be able to reap more tangible rewards for their hard work.

That's all for now.
Love to all

A Dogon good time

2008-08-01T14:34:00.000-07:00

I'm a year older and the Shaughnessy family has added a member to an extended version of a famous Ghanaian club. The whirlwind tour has continued and my Dad has joined me in seven (out of ten) regions of Ghana, various parts of Burkina Faso and the amazing Dogon country of Mali.

My Dad and I met Cheri and Gray in Tamale for a pre-trip dinner. Up to this point, the plan was to meet in Bolgatanga on the 23rd of July, travel through Burkina Faso into Mali, walk around Dogon country and aim to return to Ghana by August 1st. Aside from these loose plans, we were winging it entirely. Meeting in Tamale on the 22nd was an unexpected surprise and offered some mellow conversation as a precursor to intense travel. Gray, Cheri, my Dad and I got along swimmingly and were ready to carve adventure out of a roughly planned vacation.

The four of us traveled via Mass Metro bus to Bolgatanga on the 23rd and my Dad's crash course in West Africa continued. We continued to travel north as temperatures increased, road quality decreased and lodging became more sketchy. Bolga was new territory to all of us so we played tug of war from "wing it," and "tourist guide book," sides of the spectrum. We three PCV's stayed at a dorm style Catholic guesthouse while my Dad was set up in a self contained AC room a few blocks away. A nice dinner, great conversation and some piedro (look it up if you've never played) lessons brought us to the end of the night and time to part ways. Dad's key to his room didn't work so we had to track down a hotel employee. The employee couldn't open the door so after several minutes of struggling with the lock, I got the distinct pleasure of kicking in the door to a hotel room. I was given permission to kick in the door to a hotel room!! The room was open, an ipod was mysteriously missing and the adventure had undoubtedly begun.

By early afternoon on July 24th, each member of our group had sat on a crocodile, received a passport stamp and struggled to gain directions with limited french. My Dad blew the rest of us out of the water regarding French fluency; a typical conversation that he undertook would contain at best equal parts Spanish, English and French. Spirits were high and we enjoyed steak sandwiches, beer and stories from Burkina PCVs. We stayed in Ouagadougou for two nights in order to allow for laundry and rest. A second night with volunteers gave my Dad further insight into the Peace Corps life. Several Burkina Faso volunteers were enjoying their final week of service and seemed to enjoy sharing pluses and minuses of service with the rest of us. I always love to hear varying perspectives and my Dad was clearly interested in hearing more about the 2+ year experience. Peace Corps Ghana and Peace Corps Burkina traded envious accounts of the luxuries offered in the others' host nation. It seems that Ghana offers the beach along with better beer, chicken, rice and produce while Burkina has steak, strawberries, baguettes and dairy products. The grass is always greener.

Burkina volunteers helped arrange a 5:30 taxi to the bus station and we were on our way to another country. We were convinced that an official Visa (nearly 180 US dollars) was unnecessary and that we would be able to offer 10,000 CFA (roughly 26 US dollars) at the Mali border and would get an "unofficial" stamp.

We caught the 6am bus to Ouahiguiya having been assured that we could get a connecting "bush taxi" to Koro and would be in Mali by 1:30pm. We made it to Oahiguiya by 9am, had a small breakfast, loaded up on CFA and we were ready to continue. We bought bush taxi tickets, bought kola nuts for Mali and then we waited. We waited 4 hours before being prompted by a dutch NGO worker to pay a bit more money for the remaining seats in the bush taxi. We paid the extra money and joined an incredibly uncomfortable van. The front seat consisted of a driver and two passengers as usual. Behind the front seat, there were a pair of love seat size benches facing one another. There were two more benches going back and the last three benches had fold-up jump seats beside them. I initially climbed into the back seat but the bench was tilted to such a degree that the woman to my left could barely see through the window while I had to bend my neck in order to press my ear to the ceiling. Cheri and I sat in the rear facing bench behind the driver seat. We were pressed knee to knee with a couple from French Guyana and a Burkinabe (that's right, it's not Burkinian or Burkina Fasoan) man who sounded like a French Mike Tyson. Despite paying for 3 extra seats, we were loaded up to the brim. Anxious to get to Mali and meet our guide Oumar, our group didn't mind the discomfort as the car pulled away on the way toward Mali.

Within mere minutes, we all had t-shirts or bandannas pulled over our faces as we learned that the majority of the car's exhaust was being spewed back INSIDE the car. We tore through mud puddles at a pace just above a crawl and two flat tires and billions of asphyxiated brain cells later, we were in Koro at sundown. We passed several camels, managed to get our passports stamped and geared what little energy we maintained towards the days ahead. Oumar met our groggy crew with enthusiasm and a big smile. Born in Dogon, Oumar learned English in school and now spoke with a hodgepodge accent acquired through ten years of guiding English speakers from around the world (he's 29). A cold beer, some travel discussion and a deep sleep got us through our first night in Bankass, Mali.

The first day of our guided Dogon tour began on a horse cart. Having added Oumar, the five of us were led 12km by horse cart toward Tely and thousand year old cliff dwellings. The heat was wearing us out but watching a Malian horse cart driver walk 12km through puddles while pushing and pulling the horse with full force kept us from complaining. Mid-rainy season, we saw great puddles and a good amount of green in what is 120 degrees and dry for much of the year. Each kilometer traveled offered a greater view of the escarpment ahead. Upon arriving in the first village, we were led to a shady rooftop and given water to wash our hands and faces. We dropped our bags, rested briefly and were then taken on a 3km walk up and around the escarpment. Initially built as protection from wild animals and enemies, the cliff dwellings now sit above a village of roughly 1200 Malians. Many Dogons are Animist but each village we went to visit was a mix of Animist, Muslim and Christian. Words and photos can't properly describe this first day. We had heard great stories about Dogon country and were constantly told that it was a "must see," but we were still unprepared. It is absolutely breathtaking.

After the initial 3km hike, we had a lunch break and were offered a few hours of chill time. We had a nice lunch of rice and even tasted the local millet dish with Baobab stew. My dad hung around for a nap while Gray, Cheri and I went exploring. In the distance, a very small waterfall was visible. We came upon a dozen Malian girls using boulders as water slides and diving boards. The three of us hiked around in the cool mid-day shade and looked on in wonderment as the spray of the waterfall moved around like a slow pendulum. The amount of water was small enough and spraying from such a great height that the slightest gust of wind would bring a spray of water following us around the rock basin. Oumar repeatedly requested the we not swim because two white tourists were "boiled in the water," when they went swimming and angered the water. We didn't swim but enjoyed the cool shade and the sprinklings of cold water while watching numerous Malians on horseback or cow as they watered the parched animals.

The afternoon provided a relaxed 4km walk through the shadows of cliffs and baobabs. We ended the night in Oumar's hometown and were shown around to indigo dyers and mudcloth makers. The artwork was absolutely beautiful and the relaxing evening was a nice break considering adventures to come.

The first words I heard spoken on my 26th Birthday were along the lines of "Oumar, I woke up twice with explosive diarrhea and couldn't find water to clean up after myself." I guess there's not only "Ghana tummy," but "Mali tummy," as well. Though we'd been careful with food and water, the millions of exotic bacteria seemed to have worked their way into my Dad's system. At 26 years old, I was suddenly in the role of father to my father. ORS and biscuits were forced on my dad with 6km and 8km walks ahead of us.

Several shady water breaks and an introduction to "free ranging," brought us to the next village (Gray wrote down the names so I'll add them when I hear back from him). A hand of piedro and some more forced water had my dad feeling better. Sweating like a beast combined with diarrhea and not enough water is an exhausting combination.

Our 4 hour break offered a much needed cool down option but my dad was only able to eat a bit of lunch. It was decided that Cheri, Gray and I would hike the next portion and my dad would take a cow cart and meet us at the next village. Oumar told us at the beginning of the trip that this 8km was the most "amazing," but also the most difficult. In retrospect it's clear that my dad would have had a hard time if his health was 100%. After 20 minutes of uphill hiking, the four of us were winded and borderline nauseous. We were climbing at an incredible rate on a natural switchback staircase. The climb continued for 2km and we while catching our breath and enjoying a rewarding view, we learned that current villagers make this hike whenever they need to visit neighboring villages. Until recently, women would carry loads to market while hiking this same route with no shoes. A tough touristy hike for us is a daily commute for so many others.

We climbed across a horizontal ladder and faced the 200 foot drop below as the hike continued. From here on out, the hike consisted of slight ups and downs but no serious climbs like at the beginning. Within minutes, it felt as though we were back at ground level. The cliffs were no longer in view and lush farm plots peppered the rocky terrain wherever possible. While still catching our breath, we passed an ancient barefoot man with a local tobacco pipe clenched between his teeth. Again, we were humbled by the real-life difficulty of the terrain and the man smiled at us and worked away at his harvest.

The afternoon hike went by surprisingly quickly. Our new group dynamic allowed for a faster pace and we were all perfectly content in awestruck silence. We passed one Animist village and walked amongst Dogon people listening to Oumar greet as he passed. My best attempt at the confusing greeting follows:

Owana
Useo?
Seo
U
Useo
Seo
O
Oseo

I'm sure it's clear that I have no idea what they were saying but Oumar would not stop to greet but simply made the same exchange with passersby. We couldn't help but smile at first but at the end we did our best to make a similar exchange with excited Dogon elders.

A sunset descent brought us to our home for the night. Surrounded by precariously balanced 100+ ton boulders and good friends and family, I was a happy birthday boy.

It turns out that my dad had to hike the last 1km uphill to meet us and that alone had really worn him out. He was happily resting and it was clear that he had made the right decision by taking a cart rather than hiking. Gray produced a birthday gift of a fine cigar and after cool bucket baths, the four of us (my dad less so) enjoyed cold beer, a fine cigar and a taste of local tobacco through a traditional pipe. My dad remained in good spirits despite his condition and the four of us shared what was surely one of my best birthdays to date. A rooftop bed with only a mosquito net between me and the unbelievably clear sky ended a truly sensational day.

Still elated from the day before, I came upon Gray doing wash in the early morning light. With no sign of worry, Gray was washing my dad's shorts, telling me that Papa Shag had joined the infamous club that clearly expands beyond Ghana. Father to my father duties continued through the morning. I helped my dad clean himself up and forced electrolyte tabs and overwhelming amounts of water on him. Reluctant to drink the warm water, I was forced to emphasize the danger of dehydration in Africa. He continued his day via cow cart with 5 liters of water (2 liters cold with Gatorade powder provided by Gray) in tow. We three PCVs proceeded for a fast paced 13km day through forced farmland and beautiful views. Oumar pointed out a dead viper during the walk and assured us that the 7 inch snake could easily kill a man in 5 minutes. Oumar had told us earlier how Dogon people don't go under fig trees during hot days because the devil sits in the branches and will kill them (snake and devil one and the same?). I have no doubt that our group passed dozens of deadly snakes of the 4 day hike but Oumar took great care of us and we made it through virtually unscathed.

The end of the third day included a descent as intense as the initial climb. Swallows and egrets circled above as we finished a descent that Indiana Jones would appreciate. Another night of good food, piedro and bathroom breaks led us to our last morning in Dogon country.

My dad took off on cow cart while Oumar took us to another cliff side village and showed us the circumcision board. Dogon men partake in group circumcisions at 14 years of age and sleep on a wooden board for 21 days before returning to society. Dogon girls are circumcised at 2-3 years of age and despite our shock, Oumar showed no sign that he shared our dismay at the tradition. Oumar continued to tell us that Dogon men have their first marriage arranged by their parents and that cultural hierarchy plays a big part in this decision. After the first marriage is arranged, men are free to choose additional wives for themselves.

A 3km walk through dunes of the Sahel desert brought us to meet a driver and my dad on cow cart. An hour and a half in an uncomfortable car brought us back to Koro and to the end of our trip to Mali (one flat tire and getting stuck in a deep puddle included). We again payed for extra seats in a bush taxi (comfortable this time) in order to leave on time. We barely made it to Ouahiguiya in time to catch the last bus to Ouagadougou. We actually missed the bus but some travel mates from the Koro-Ouhiguiya leg made the driver make a loop in order to find us and keep our trip going.

We arrived in Ouagadougou at around midnight and chowed down on burgers while mosquitos did the same to our shins. We slept in for once and traveled another 6 hours back to Bolgatanga. 5 hours of sleep got us to the bus station as a groggy group and Gray split off for a trip to the Upper West region of Ghana. My dad, Cheri and I got to Tamale by 9am and explored the Northern Region capital for the day. My dad bought beautiful gifts at Colwoods, a store run by battered and abandoned women. Unfortunately, I somehow lost the bag of goodies so while the proceeds will still go to a good cause, the gifts may not make it to the intended recipients.

The three of us shared a nice lunch before Cheri left us to run errands. I did my best to put this blog entry together in Tamale but the power went out and I was stuck half way through. My dad and I took the 4pm STC bus from Tamale to Accra and arrived this morning at around 3am. He's feeling better over time and another relaxing day in Accra should prepare us to go back to Bormase.

More to come. I'm still groggy so I hope this entry does the trip justice.
Love to all!!