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
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
PEPFAR IST
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
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
Thursday, September 4, 2008
IST 2
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.
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.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Administrative separation
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
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
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Personal improvement plan
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
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
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Back to the books
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
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
Friday, August 8, 2008
Miracle weight loss plan
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
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
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