Monday, December 7, 2009

Ghanukkah

In one week, I’ll be picking up my Israeli cousin Einat from the Accra airport. In two weeks, Jack, Einat and I will be in Mali exploring Dogon Country. At first glance, the itinerary looks like a lunatic drew it up after briefly peaking at a map of West Africa- the party would zigzag from Ghana to Burkina Faso to Mali, with several stops off the beaten track. But there is a method to the madness that will be our winter trip: each stop has something special- like a fellow PCV, something culturally unique, or a sight that could only be viewed in person.

Take for instance the zenith of our trip- Dogon Country. For years I’ve wanted to go there after reading a book on it. Dogon Country is a beautiful strip of land with villages swathing the southern border of Mali, just above Burkina Faso. In ancient times, a group of people called the Tellem built buildings inside the vertical cliffs that make up the region for protection from the sun and danger below. Presently, the Dogon live in the area, while the Tellem people are said to have moved east. East is where we will be headed, moving from village to village for about 5 to 7 days. There are about 20 villages in total that people can visit, each one having something new. For example, Amani has a sacred crocodile pool, Ireli has ancient Tellem houses and mud granary towers built by the Dogon, and Tireli is known for its pottery and Dogon mask ceremonies. That’s only three villages! It would be amazing if one of the villages were known for its outstanding replication of Chicago hot dogs, but hey, how many Americans get to see this side of the world?

After a series of chats with friends who went to Dogon Country, along with trial-and-error phone calls, I finally got through to Omar, Peace Corps Volunteers’ go-to tour guide. He knows the deal with Peace Corps volunteers- with our $160 a month salary, few of us could afford the normal price charged for tourists checking out the area. No, Omar and his company gives a great price for us volunteers, enough to make for an unforgettable trip. So after talking to Ira and Sue about their trip, I had a general idea of what to bring, how much to spend, and how much patience I should have when trying to get ahold of Omar- he is usually in the bush, of course. But Sue got me in contact with Omar, who is soooo incredibly nice to talk to on the phone. He called, saying unfortunately he couldn’t be our guide, but that his brother Musa will. In Bankass (heeheeeheeeheee) we’ll meet up, and then proceed to Dogon Country.

Other trips [may] include Kakum National Forest (Ghana), Cape Coast Castle (Ghana), Tamale (Ghana), Tatali (Ghana), Bolgatanga (Ghana), Mole National Park (Ghana), Donkorkrom (Ghana), Kumasi (Ghana), Sirigu and Paga (Ghana), Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), Mopti (Mali), Djenne (Mali), and of course my own town. The trip hinges on a number of factors like tentative vehicle departures, weather, whims, health issues, and the unexpected================================================


Wow. Just had one of those “I love Ghana” moments while taking a break from typing. Normally I like to cook and clean dishes before it gets dark since I don’t have a sink or a light in my kitchen. Doing dishes outside means I’m with all things that come out in the night to bite. So, finished with dinner, I am cleaning up outside when I see tons of my students walking down the road from their parents’ farm. When they caught sight of me, the all rushed up the driveway to my house. It was great. I wish I had my camera, but I didn’t want to leave the scene. Some students had large bowls filled with fruits and vegetables on their heads, others had 6 meter-long bamboo poles with hooks at the end. All were cheering and laughing. The very thing I needed after a long day of chores and work. They started giving me all these oranges, even though I kept telling them my house is surrounded by orange trees. Oh, will I miss my students……………………..

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Anyway, back to the trip. Basically, there’s so much to see, with such little time. Plus, I really was looking forward to the annual Cattle Crossing Festival in Djenne, a ritual done for about 200 years where the Fulani people guide their cattle across the Niger River and meet up with their families after the year-long journey. The festival is held between the end of December and the beginning of January, depending on water levels of the Niger. Unfortunately, when I asked Omar about it, he said the festival already happened two weeks ago in Djenne.

Aside from seeing sights, I would like to bring back some art from Ghana, Burkina and Mali, such as pottery from Sirigu and Dogon Country, masks from Mali and Burkina Faso, mud cloths from mopti, and bronze statues from Ouagadougou. I really want to bring back a butterfly mask from Burkina, but I’m worried that since the mask is about as tall as I am, there’s no way I’ll be able to travel with it. But I am resourceful- I will find a way!

Christmas will be spent with my friend Serena at her site in Tatali, way over by Togo in the Northern Region of Ghana. New Year’s will be celebrated under the Malian stars in Dogon Country. No New Year’s kiss for me though :( Lis will be miles away spending it with friends back in Ghana, since she used all her vacation days traveling in October/ November.

About two weeks ago I had a fantastic dinner at the U.S. Ambassador’s house. The food was AMAZING, and again I stuffed myself like nobody’s business. But aside from eating my weight of Thanksgiving dinner and seeing friends, another great part of that holiday was meeting and staying with one of the families who hosted Peace Corps Volunteers who came down to Accra. Volunteers usually stay at a bunk house that holds about 9 people comfortably, 60 people uncomfortably. About 60 volunteers came to Thanksgiving, which meant instead of inundating the place, Peace Corps found families for us to stay with, most being American expats.

I hit the jackpot with my family. Actually, a lot of volunteers said this, but that doesn’t detract from how great my family was. For three nights I spent time getting to know the Zager family- a family of four, with 2 young children that were so adorable I couldn’t ask for better children myself. Josh, the father, recently came to Ghana as the Marines attaché worker. Jana takes care of the kids, who both attend school in Accra. A Jewish family, I felt at home, and it was such a change of pace from the average day here in Ghana. We made challa for Christ’s sake! And Josh, Lis and I went to see Inglorious Bastards at an actual movie theater. Movie theater. This was the first movie I’ve seen at a movie theater in almost 18 months. Another first in Ghana was jumping on a trampoline while eating cookie dough ice cream at the mansion that was the USAID Country Director’s house, which is where Lisa and a few others stayed. All of us felt so strange going to the most different living arrangements to what we are used to back at our sites. It felt like heaven. That’s what it felt like when it came time to go back to site- leaving food and comfort heaven for the unair-conditioned bush. But rolling up to my town after a four-hour trip from Accra, I was just as happy to be back as I was eating turkey in one hand, and pecan pie in the other. Well, not that happy, but few things compare to Thanksgiving smorgasbords.

The day before I left, Lisa and I went down to the beach to do the second thing I haven’t done in 18 months- go to a bowling alley. Since Lisa was an avid bowler way back in her New Jersey high school days, I figured my girlfriend is going to clean the place with me. My experience with bowling is working at one as a kid and sucking then, going bowling with friends and family and still sucking. My ball once ended up in another lane. But lo and behold, I was beating Lisa during mid-game, and the last frame had me laughing. All I needed was two pins and I’d beat her. I didn’t beat her. End. Of. Story.

When I got back, I thought for sure I’d be sick with the flu, since it’s running rampant here. Lisa had it, and so did the kid sitting next to me on the cramped tro ride back to site. Since the windows were closed, the kid’s coughing fogged up the window I sat next to, and while the snot rag brushed up against my arm and hand, all I could think was how many oranges I would have to eat when back at site. *Sniff *sniff *cough *cough*- 4 oranges. Each hanky-to-hand contact equaled 3 oranges. A direct cough or sneeze to my face equaled 5 oranges. Luckily, I didn’t get sick. Maybe the combined powers of turkey and oranges protected me from all things pathogen related.

Two frustrations this month involved dropped groceries and the caretaker’s kids. With the groceries, I went to my market town an hour away to pick up the school drum that was recently repaired. While there, I decided to change things up and get more dried food than I usually do for god knows what reason. I bought a ton of rice, red beans, black eyed peas, sugar, and peanuts- enough to hold me over for three weeks, before I leave for Mali. So I ask the tro driver to drop me off in front of the school instead of my house so I could bring the drum to the headmaster and get my bike. Drum delivered, I hung the bags on my handlebars like an idiot and went down the slope towards the road. Even though I knew how flimsy the bags were and how easily plastic bags break here, I still rushed to get home so I could cook before dark. Of course I hit a bump, which jostled all the bags to fall off my bike and explode all over the ground. Three week’s worth of food on the floor + a cursing white guy = an inquisitive group of Ghanaians. The people were so nice, helping me pick up EACH INDIVIDUAL BEAN OR RICE GRAIN and putting them in a new bag they got for me. They even tried scooping the sugar into a bag, even though it was red from the dust and pebbles that was now part of the sweetener. As pissed and embarrassed as I was, I can’t describe how grateful I was towards my community; the kindness they show me comes every day in different forms, and this was definitely a new form of benevolence. Now I’m sorting more pebbles out of my dried food than ever before. I actually salvaged some of the sugar too. But lesson learned. Take your mother%$^&#@# time!

As for the kids, boy oh boy. The caretaker of the house I live in is in Togo, again. He sometimes leaves his kids here while he goes over there, but this time it’s been too long. His wife was hit by a motorcycle and sick (she’s okay, says the kids), and the daughter is also sick and had to go to the Togolese hospital. The parents have been gone for about two months now, leaving their two boys with a family in town. The kids still sleep in the room at the back of the house, and have a key to my house for some unknown reason, maybe to clean. But clean they didn’t. I gave them slack of course because of their family situation, and fed them on occasion and gave them soap and water to wash. What bothered me, even when the father was here, was the fact that they stopped attending school. When the father left, I had my headmaster come to my place to talk them into going, saying that if it was a money issue, we would deal with it, but no success came. Instead, the students used their total freedom to annoy me.

When I needed to leave for Accra to fix my fried computer (now fixed), I remember giving the kids half a loaf of bread while legging it to a waiting tro outside my home. When I got back, I noticed that the bike chain on my bike was off, and tire marks lead out of the house through the side door, where the kids have a key. Shit. And the kids, for whatever reason, left the broken bike lock on the kitchen table. I was furious, but I needed to cook and clean, giving me time to cool off and think. Later, the kids came home, and when they heard me in the house, they ran straight into the forest. GUILTY! I wouldn’t have been so angry if this hadn’t been the second time this has happened. Months ago, the kids took my bike and trashed my house (I mentioned this in an earlier entry), and with tearful apologies, they promised it would never happen again. Fool me once……

The next day I went to the house where they were getting food, and called them out. They both denied any wrongdoing. I said to give me the keys to the house. They said they lost them. I threatened to go to the headmaster to get the keys. They didn’t budge. So I then turned to the family, who knew me and knew of the childrens’ guilt. So many things pointed to them, and when more people heard what happened, a crowd started to form around the kids. People said they saw the boy riding my bike to the next town. The kids were stuck, and finally confessed. The next step was what to do next. We all new the delicacy of the situation, with the parents gone and the sister severely ill. A few people said I should take them to the police, but I think this was to scare them straight. I took them to the school, where my headmaster and their primary headmaster heard the story. It just so happened the town officials were all at the school dealing with a different issue- some of my students were caught gambling (a major offense which ended in them getting 12 lashes to the back in front of the school and their parents).

When it came time to decide the fate of the caretaker’s children, the officials handled it very well- the outcome was that the teachers pooled money together so the kids get food in the morning, so long as they attend school. As for meals and after school care, the officials will talk to the Ewe community in town to see what could be done. The kids were bawling and saying sorry, and I think this time they really meant it. They are kids after all. I think they realized that after all this time I spent caring about their schooling, feeding them, providing gifts now and then without asking anything in return, that they in turn crossed a major line. They admitted to taking food and using my stove while I was gone (I think they damaged the left burner). But I forgave them. No word from either parent, but the kids are going to school, are actually looking happy (I check on them now and again at the primary school), and after paying their school fees, they can now take their term exams; I don’t really know how they’ll do on those, but according to their teacher they are trying.

Some good news- the books I’ve been waiting for finally arrived. I emailed an NGO that donates books to Peace Corps Volunteers working in the schools, and about 4 months later got more than I expected- brand new books matching exactly what I had in mind for my students. In the email, I wrote that my students are middle-school age, with many students at elementary-level reading skills. I requested math, science, and world culture books. What I got was math, science, and culture books, along with short novels appropriate for some of my students. Coinciding with the delivery of these books was a microscope I asked a friend to lend me. My students love it. They look at everything from the cotton fibers of their shirts to the mouthparts on a spider’s carapace. Since the term is almost over, students are busy studying for their exams, leaving little time to look at the books. Next term, I plan on having a revamped reading hour using the new books, as well as the books given to us by the Ghana Education Service.

My town is wearing a coat of orange this winter- the red dust is so much that what once was green plants and white animals are now orange plants, dogs, cats, chickens, and goats. After spending last year in Otumi, I am already inured to the harsh harmattan season down here, although I’ve heard it’s much worse up north, which is where I’m headed next week….

That’s about it. It’s Hanukkah and I’m spinning the dreidel by my lonesome. Last week, Lisa cooked real latkes for me, complete with apple sauce shipped from home! I can’t wait to spend the holidays with family next year. This year, it’s winter in West Africa for me.

Big big thanks to the Zager family for inviting me to their home and feeding/spoiling me. Thanks to Ira and Sue for helping with the Mali trip, I’m missing you both now that you’re gone. Thanks to Darien Books for the brand new and excellent books (the students are working on the Thank-you cards). Thanks Brian for the microscope, I’ll have it back in one piece. And thanks to all who have donated so far to my Computer Lab and Library project. Oh owe a lot to my bro, Adrianna, Park, and Ortiz, Maurine and Tim for their fundraising initiatives. Thanks to everyone helping out with the project. And thanks to those people who helped me pick up my beans and rice.

Happy Hanukkah, happy holidays, happy New Year! Love you all!
*Please continue donating to my Peace Corps project, the target amount we need has still not been met. The website is

Wine:

Forget wine. Leave space for more turkey, cranberries, pumpkin pie, salad, mashed potatoes, and stuffing with gravy on top. Wash down with a glass of sangria.

Music:

Smile- Michael Bublé
Bron-Y-Aur Stomp- Led Zeppelin
Fix Up, Look Sharp- Dizzy Rascal
The Egg and I- Seatbelts
Little Delia- Blind Willie McTell
Tender- Blur
Too Long- Andrew Bird's Bowl Of Fire
We’re Leaving- DeVotchKa
The Chanukah Song- Adam Sandler
Something to Look Forward To- spoon
Bluehawk- Thelonious Monk
Voxtrot- Wrecking Force
Slow Jamz- Kanye West
Run Run Run- The Velvet Underground
Each Day Gets Better- John Legend
All the Old Showstoppers- The New Pornographers
Homelife- John Mayer

The trip up West Africa

The rough plan for Ghana


Dogon Country



Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

Mole National Park, Ghana

Kakum National Park- Canopy walk in the trees over the rainforest


Butterfly mask of Burkina Faso (above and below)



Cattle Crossing Festival, Mali

Mud home near Bolgatanga, Ghana

Thanksgiving dinner!!!


Jack, Lis and I, 2 stone heavier

Hanging loose with Mike, Peace Corps Ghana's Country Director, at Thanksgiving

Jack with a gargantuan dog

Ira and Cheri, gonna miss you both!

Chris holding up a neat Peace Corps designed kente cloth from Volta Region
Sue me!
Before losing the match

Guh. Terrible.

Merry Hanukkah Charlie Brownstein!

Go dreidel go!

The books donated from Darien books

Yes, a book on sabertooth tigers, only the most ferocious cat that ever lived

My headmaster and I get these newspapers for the students whenever we go to the market

A hand-made pineapple paper card made at my friend Kat's site

Poster from when Obama was here

Lisa made this. Is that a good thing?

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Connecting Students

After close to ten arduous months of meetings, phone calls, and grant proposal writing, the PCPP for my community’s Computer Lab and Library has finally been approved by Washington- the capital, not the deceased president. A day after hearing from Peace Corps that my project had been given the green light, a web page with a description of my project had been added to the Volunteer Projects website. The address for my project is

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=641-278

The project is entirely funded by friends and family, so please please please spread the word and get people to donate. 100% of the donations (which are tax-deductable) go towards 20 Pentium 3 computers complete with monitors, keyboard and mouse, as well as a 1-year subscription to the internet and a projector to use for computer, math, science, and social studies classes. I’m hoping to get all the funds by mid-January, since that is when Term 2 starts.

That being said, October and November were pretty quiet months- just teaching and gearing up for the STARS conference in June. The months are flying like my chewed fingernails from all the STARS worries that come with the job. It feels like I just started climbing a mountain shrouded in fog concealing steep inclines and mountain goats I can easily trip over.

In October, I attended a funeral for the mother of two of my students. I’ve been to funerals before, but this was the first where someone I knew was directly affected. I have never seen any of my students so grief-stricken. The headmaster and some of the teachers at my school attended the funeral, held a stone throw’s distance from our school. In the early morning, women dressed in bright red cloths were playing soccer, which was later explained to me was a way to celebrate the fun side of the woman who passed away. I dressed in my traditional funeral cloth, which I always dread for a number of reasons: My diaphanous feet glow white against the black cloth, funeral shoes, and blood that drips down from the open sores on my feet. Yes, the sandals I wear for the occasion are made of hard leather that, because of friction from walking all over town, tears my feet open like they were made of tissue paper; Ghanaians fare well because it’s like their feet are made of indestructible Nike shoes. If you could imagine, two hours into the funeral I’m shuffling around with a pained look on my face, and the body hair did not help my appearance, which was simian to the max.

Several of the students, usually not permitted to attend any funerals, were allowed to support their two classmates. During the dancing part of the funeral, the teachers and students goaded me into dancing. I think I did alright, and it was one of the most memorable times I’ve had in my town- everyone joined in for the dance with happy-sounding music in the background. As cheerful as the music sounded, I had trouble translating in my head what the hell the song was about. I never would have guessed that each song was meant for a funeral since none of it was funereal. One song had the message of moving on with your life after a loved one has passed away, another about making the most of your life while you still have it. A little after the song ended, a storm that had been slowly rolling towards us from the horizon finally arrived to the funeral grounds, raining over our flimsy tents and flooding the ground. So many things happened at once- for an hour lightning struck over and over again so close to where we were sitting I thought we would surely get hit. The ground was no longer dry and rocky but saturated with small rust-red rivers that went under our chairs and headed towards the forest at our backs. The rain was coming down something fierce, but this didn’t deter a dozen or so of the people from continuing to dance in the rain. The rain stopped as abruptly as it started and continued crawling towards the setting sun. Glad to be alive, I bade farewell to everyone and took me and my bloody feet back to the house. The two students are still coming to school, performing much better than I’ve ever seen them. Their mom would be proud.

A few days after the funeral, I was relaxing under one of the shade trees (people tie rocks to the branches to weigh them down, until they collectively make the tree look like a giant umbrella), when a friend came out and pulled me away from the tree. It turns out I had sat under a huge nest of killer bees, you know- the bellicose African kind. While keeping a fixed glance at the black hive now a safe distance away, I asked my friend if he was going to knock them down or something and he said that very night, when they are asleep, they were going to set it ablaze. I made it clear that I wanted to watch and he told me to come around 8:30 at night. A storm similar to the one that came during the funeral blew through though, and I had to stay in that night. The next morning the guy said the storm blew away the hive, which I guess was fortunate for all parties.

One day in late October, my students were taking a quiz when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, there came a low, Jumanji-style rumbling from several yards away from the school. Drawing nearer we hear drumming, cheering, and bells clinging, parade-like. Then we saw, coming up the hill, all the primary school children from the school across town marching up, saying “ebi, ebi, ebi, ebi” (I thought I heard A-B,A-B). This elicited snickering and cheering from the students; meanwhile I had no idea what was going on. In the teachers’ lounge, I learned that the students at that school, for reasons entirely unknown to me, were shitting in their classrooms, which pissed off the teachers and eventually led to this march of shame throughout the town saying, shit! shit! shit! shit shit! The Presby school on the other side of town is very old (well over a hundred years old) and has no locks for its six classes, and supposedly students were sneaking in, leaving a clandestine dump on the floor for everyone to see and smell the next day (according to the teachers, this is not at all normal and unheard of in Ghana). Quoting my headmaster, “They were leaving shit-bombs….and got their just deserts.”

Recently, I’ve been enjoying fresh palm wine in town, something I had never had up until the funeral. My headmaster and a fellow teacher took me to one of the houses to enjoy the tasty beverage, and were shocked when I said I hadn’t tried it yet. This drink is a staple beverage in my small town, considering we are surrounded by palms and it is so easy to make. To get palm wine, you cut a hole in a recently felled tree, tapping the sap for about two weeks. Fresh palm wine has a very low alcohol content (about 2%), but tastes not unlike a fruity soda with a hint of bitters. When it is fresh, it is sweet. The longer it sits, the more fermented it gets, and the alcohol content increases. I prefer it fresh. When I came back to town the week following the funeral for more palm wine, I brought my own bottle to be filled (it’s about 50 cents for 750mL). My students saw me and freaked out that I was buying alcohol. I told them that they should wait until they are older, and when they are, to drink in moderation. Sounding Al Gorish, my students realized I wasn’t a swinging drunkard and left me alone. Riding home on my bike, the bottle’s top (not fully screwed on) popped off violently, and I learned that the vapors are slightly volatile. Someone once told me these very vapors attract invisible dwarves, which is a story I’ll have to get into another time. Let’s just say during training, a host-brother of one of my friends warned us not to “F^%$ with the dwarves!” I won’t.

Another newly discovered favorite of mine is this bubble gum ice cream in Accra- 6 cedis (roughly $4) gets me 8 scoops of this cold treat. Lisa and others complained that I have the pallet of a four-year-old since I prefer this flavor over, say, normal vanilla or blasé mocha chip. It doesn’t help that I’ve also started mixing into my oats a brand of this nutritious and delicious powdered baby food. Although the package clearly states it’s for infants, with a baby cartoon bear over this message to help clarify things, I don’t see what the problem is. I have banana flavored, fruit flavored, and maize flavored powders that are keeping me alive and happy. Does that make me less of a man? No. Now, can someone please come over and help shovel this into my mouth making plane noises?

What else happened over the past few weeks? Oh yes, a friend of mine up north was bitten on the arse by a hippo that wandered into town. He's alright, and he has such a great story to tell his grand kids. Course if I were him I would add that it had been a great battle, and the hippo, still out there with the taste for human flesh, now has one eye missing and my own bite mark on its hide.

Coming soon this month are Thanksgiving and the arrival of the students’ pen pal letters. The U.S. Ambassador is having Thanksgiving at his place again, and mostly all I can remember from last year is feeling like Jaba the Hut and somehow making it to the pool for a swim. After the ambassador’s, I went to the Kumasi Thanksgiving too, and after two Thanksgiving dinners, I thought I would be med sepped for gluttony. This year I think I’ll play it safe and go to only one Thanksgiving event.

Around the end of November, I’m hoping we get our pen pal letters from the students at Rickards High in Tallahassee. We’ve been doing a correspondence program with the students there, and this time it the letters focus on what science can and cannot study. My students keep asking me when the letters are going to come, and for 6 weeks or so I’ll be saying “It takes about six to seven weeks from when we sent them out.” So we have that to look forward to.
As for me, I’ll be checking the progress of my grant twice a day like a maniac, since this is the biggest project I’ve been working on for over a year. Love ya’ll and have a happy Thanksgiving!

Wine:
Cardwell Hill Pinot Noir Willamette Valley, 2006

Music:

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?- She & Him
You, Me & The Bourgeoisie- The Submarines
Shadows- Rufus Wainwright
The Thanksgiving Song- Adam Sandler
Ship Out On The Sea- The Be Good Tanyas
Yes!- Coldplay
Love- J Dilla
Shine A Light- Wolf Parade
Strange Apparition- Beck
Homelife- John Mayer
Straight Street- The Fiery Furnaces
Sitting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson
Empire State of Mind- Jay-Z
Each Day Gets Better- John Legend


The Computer Lab and Library- another month and it will be completed!!!!

Enjoying palm wine during the funeral



At the funeral with a teacher (left) and my headmaster (right)

Two other teachers who attended the funeral (to my left)





Some houses around my town





The Form 1 Classroom

My Form 3s

My Form 2s

The cats, acting weird

They just chopped down this tree outside my home :(
Baby food....or breakfast of champions?

Saturday, October 3, 2009

[Half] Marathon Runner/Walker/Hobbler

Mehuwakyei /mi-hu-wa-chi/. This is Twi for it’s been a while (or 久しぶりだな for my Japanese mates). My bad. A goat bit my fingers off and Peace Corps had to fit me out with $4 million bionic fingers. I still refuse to eat with my hands though. Nah, I was lazy. No goat bit my fingers off, but I don’t trust the one with the single horn always hanging out on my front porch leaving a pellet poop surprise for me every morning.

Things are good. Actually, much better than last year in terms of work. We have all new teachers at our school and they show up, like every day. And they are good teachers. It’s like being in a dream. And my teaching has improved a lot this year. It feels like I’ve been here for much longer than a year. My students treat me with a lot more respect, and we are getting loads of things done this term. We have had almost no cancelled classes, unlike last year, and the headmaster is coming to school every day. Let me remind you that just three months ago I would be the only adult at the school most of the time, the students were fed up and no one seemed to care about school. Things have really turned around. Am I jinxing the situation in Otumi with my glee? I hope not.

The only bad news is that I lost my Form 3 Math class to another teacher. Originally this term I was in charge of Math and Computers for Forms 1-3. My headmaster and the assistant headmaster both felt that the students should not be learning new material, but spending their class time practicing past questions from the BECE so they could get a better score and go to a good high school. My headmaster wants me to focus on teaching computers since that will also be on the BECE for the first time in Ghana, and the Form 3’s are missing an entire school year of the subject. So be it.

Other Peace Corps volunteers have voiced similar complaints that their headmasters will not let them teach Form 3 so that they can focus giving students practice questions only. I’m still trying to decide if this is a good decision or not. I want my students to do well, and it seems that our school outperformed a lot of schools around us (which, admittedly, does not say much).

Another hurdle is the fact that my headmaster is disallowing extra classes (classes before and after school for the Form 3’s) because parents do not want to pay extra money. So this means I cannot teach night classes with the computer anymore, because the parents won’t pay. The students saved their own money to purchase a computer last year, and now they are coming to me on how it is not fair that they cannot use it (the school is rigged to the street lights, so the only time we get power is at night). I have been hounding some people in my town for months now to bring power to the school, and still we’ve had nothing but telephone poles sent to the school, which I can’t help but stare at since it’s right outside the staff office window. Someone is being a lazy asshole.

We had a PTA meeting about three weeks ago, and the fact that I’m not staying a third year came up. A few people were upset that I said I’d stay if the ICT building was finished (I said this last year, during my third month at site!) The ICT building might be done in a few months, and now I am reneging since I lost hope in the building last year and set my sights for teaching in New York City. I promised I would do everything I could to be replaced by another Peace Corps volunteer, and hopefully that will be the case.

The fact that I’m leaving soon hit a lot of people who want their children to go to the U.S. I have almost no idea how to help them, but next time I’m in Accra I told them I would go to the American Embassy to find out what they need to do. I filled out all this info about their age, the type of visa they want, all this stuff. So for all you singles out there, if you want to marry a Ghanaian to help them get a visa, please send me a message. I tried to reason with some of the parents that it’s likely that if the students do well in school and work hard, they would have an easier time going abroad. But I really don’t know if some of these families have the money to send their kid over to the States. One couple said they have saved a ton of money for their son, and I know them well enough to know that they probably have saved enough. Too bad their son might arrive in the U.S. only to see the crappiest economy our nation has faced in a LONG time.

More volunteers are finishing their service this November. In August, the last of my old education group friends had left Ghana at their close of service. After this next group leaves, my group will be the oldest group serving in Ghana. Every day now I’ve been going up the same road to school I’ve been using for over a year, and I can’t help but think ‘I’m going home soon’. It’s like I am missing a place I’m still living in. In short, I am sad about this. I love my town. I love the people here, and in a matter of months I will be leaving all this. And I get sad when mango and tangerine season are over. God I’m going to be sad when I leave. Le sigh. I’ll be back, my cats need to cheer me up.

I’m back. Those cats. Yes I still have them, and coddling three fast growing cats has not been easy, especially since I get paid about $120 a month. I wish they could do my dishes or help out with the laundry. They are pretty good mouse catchers though, and boy have they caught a lot of mice, since the house is practically situated in a tropical forest area. They still are running in front of my legs though, which is no good when the power goes out and I can’t see anything and I end up tripping on one of them into a wall. And forget about scaring them with my African masks, they seem unfazed by any of my antics, ever.

During the school break, I took a trip to Jack’s site for a day before heading to a week-long volunteer conference on AIDS/HIV education. We had fun, and like usual ate exorbitant amounts of food. Since we were leaving for a week-long conference, we had to empty the fridge the only way we knew how- by eating every last morsel of food. We mostly laid around, me, Jack, and the dog Herzl, breathing heavy from the food and the milk. Yes, Jack has milk at his site. And a milk man. The only milk all of the volunteers have access to is powdered and in a tin. At Jack’s site, we could amble up to a stable, greet the milk man (a Fulani with an awesome hat), and walk away with a week’s worth of milk (which incidentally could be made into cheese, yogurt, and butter). In fact, before leaving Jack’s, it came down to drinking some milk that congealed into butter, so that really we were drinking butter bubble colloid things suspended in what tasted like butter milk. Bleckkkk. We also climbed a water tower under construction, with some of the village children wearily following us to the top.

On the way to Kumasi for the conference, we stopped by one of the new volunteer’s house and Jack’s closest neighbor. When we got there, we noticed a dog with three-and-a-half legs hopping towards us. The volunteer had replaced another volunteer, and along with the job this guy also got a hand-me-down dog. Right when he got to sight, this poor dog landed its paw in a trap, and lost most of its leg. Apparently now the dog is getting on fine, but I’m worried about my kittens since there are loads of hunters in my area. Another curious thing about this guy’s site was the total lack of phone reception, save for one particular spot about six feet in the air in his kitchen. Because this is the only place where he could get phone calls or messages, he made a harness attached to the ceiling, where the phone would be cradled waiting for incoming signals. Good thing this guy is tall. I had to stand on my tip toes to get my phone on that damned cradle.

The HIV/AIDS education conference itself could fill three pages, so to summarize, there were two conferences: one for volunteers in southern Ghana, and another for those in the north. I attended the south meeting, and met up with loads of friends I haven’t seen in a while. Each volunteer brought their counterpart as well for the week, and we were all shacked up in a really nice hotel on the outskirts of Kumasi. Lisa came with her counterpart, who it turns out is the chief of her town, and one of my favorite people in Ghana. I, on the other hand, had no one. All the teachers left my school, and my headmaster was away. I was counterpart-less. The conference was very informative, though, and it had a pool which was peculiarly cold even though the days were hot hot hot. Many of us laughed when previous to the conference we got an SMS from Peace Corps reminding us to bring a “swimming costume” for the pool at our hotel. I was going to be a water barrel, Jack a goat I think, and Lisa a popular Ghanaian bouillon cube.

After the conference, several of us went to the Kumasi Peace Corps sub office to unwind and goof off before going back to our jobs. Lis and I went to this amazing butterfly sanctuary not too far from the office. Early on, there was overcast and not much butterfly action. We took a walk in the forest for a bit, got eaten alive by all sorts of insects, and when we came back out to the main building of the park, the sun was out and so were the butterflies. Lisa knew some butterfly-ese, so she was able to coax a few of them to pose while we took pictures.

After our relaxing trip to the butterfly sanctuary, I took Lisa to a nice Indian restaurant in the thick of Kumasi. Unfortunately, I am not too familiar with the area, so before getting to the restaurant we first had to wander the streets, at night, hoping not to get mugged or strangled. The restaurant was quite excellent though, so check out Vic Baboo’s for fine Indian food and good smoothies.

The next day, I went for a jog around KNUST, a top university of Ghana and the venue for our STARS conferences, to train for the marathon coming up in three weeks. Idiotically, I got so lost on KNUST’s huge campus that I ended up jogging for three hours (which I’d imagine is like running almost three quarters of the marathon). I ended up injuring my knee, and could barely walk on it when I got back to the office. For three weeks I took care of it, but a week before the marathon I couldn’t even run for 5 minutes without feeling silly stabbing pains in my knee. So months of training for the marathon went right down the drain.

Now, you would think that is the end of the story, that any sane person would next write something like I watched from the side to cheer on my friends in the marathon. No. Not this guy. I had intentions of doing this, but when I went to registration with everyone the day before the race, I ended up deciding to try and run the half marathon. What can I say? I got caught up in the excitement, and only weeks before I was running half marathons as part of my training.

The race was a complete mess. I started off at a good pace, and maintained this for about 20 minutes before my knee voiced protests and I slowed to a jog. 10 minutes later my jog turned into a walk. 5 minutes later my walk turned into a 2 hour hobble to the finish line, with the walkers of the half and the runners of the full passing me with quizzical looks on their faces as they passed me. “Why,” they would ask themselves, “does this person have a runner’s number pinned to his shirt? He is obviously not sweating nor running.” I put shame beneath me and watched as the real runners dodged cars, annoying people, and a goat while running on the ridiculous course that seemed to have very little foresight for an international marathon. Much of the path was along the coast though, so it was quite pretty, and lasted much longer for me considering my snail’s pace.

It was nice seeing the country director, who parked his car towards the end of the course to cheer all us PCV’s on as we got closer to the finish line. It was embarrassing though when we both saw each other in the distance, and what should have taken 5 minutes to get to the country director ended up taking 15. At the finish line was Lisa (holding a sign instructing me to “Run Faster”) as well as several other volunteers who showed up to cheer us on. A few of our peeps did well in the race, others got injured from the nonsensical course. All in all we were smiling in the end, with a complementary coconut in one hand and a chicken leg in the other. There were free messages for runners, but my table broke on me and I fell to the ground, thus ending my session and my relaxed state.

During our time in Accra for the marathon, Lisa, Serena, Emily (a Peace Corps Mali volunteer), Corey and I (plus a few others....) were invited to stay at this incredibly generous expat's house. Between relaxing on comfortable couches and watching cable television, we were treated to groceries he picked up for us that some of us haven't eaten in months- sliced turkey, real cheese, wine from a bottle and not a box. Our expat host definitely goes down as one of my favorite people.

That’s about everything. Today we had entertainment day at school, where the Form 1’s entertained the Form 2 and 3 students with dancing and singing. I was around to see last year’s event, so I kind of knew what was in store for the day. I liked one group who did drumming and dancing to the theme of sanitation and cleaning up garbage around a river so people don’t get sick. My supervisor also came as part of her tour de volunteer’s sites, and it was great seeing her. It was also nice when my supervisor handed me an amazing package from my friend Kim, allowing me to introduce Jujyfruits, Yogurt Raisins, and Junior Mints to some of my mates in town. Note: packages induce tears of joy.

Lastly, if you are not a Peace Corps volunteer, than you will enjoy the book "Heat" by Bill Buford. If you are a volunteer, this is the worst book to read while serving in-country because it's all about fine Italian cooking, something totally lacking at our sites.

Wine:

Merry Edwards Sauvignon Blanc
Russian River Valley 2006

Music:

Can U Dig It?- Certain Stars
On A Day Like This- Elbow
Outside Villanova- Eric Hutchinson
8-Ball- Underworld
Straight, No Chaser- Thelonious Monk
Happy Ending- Mika
Time to Pretend- MGMT
Champions- Mr. Flash
Feelin' Way Too Damn Good- Nickelback
Stars- The Weepies
The Vagabond- Air
We Tigers- Animal Collective
Hell Yes- Beck
10 A.M. Automatic- The Black Keys
Sunshine- Buckcherry
We’re All In Love- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Freedom- Rage Against the Machine
Hurry Up Let’s Go- Shout Out Louds
Summer Wind- Michael Bublé
Miles Ahead- Miles Davis
Run On- Moby
Rewind- Nas
Mighty O- Outkast
Speed of Life- David Bowie
Oo-De-Lally- Disney’s Robin Hood
A Day at the Races- Jurassic 5




The last of the old education group

Carrying luggage, the Ghana way


Bye Chris and Eric!!! Damn shame it had to end that way

Pure evil




Boogidyboogidybooo!

Free lol cat picture




The milk man

That's not milk!!!!!!

Jack and a hyperventilating Herzl on the water tower

Interesting Western Region flora

The cradle of life for phone reception

You put this thing on your gas range, instant oven!

Suitor #2

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At the butterfly sanctuary with Lis




The Accra International Marathon
Hey this map doesn't mention haranguing pedestrians or belligerent motorists!


Some Japanese runners- boy was my Japanese lacking that morning








One of the few occasions that call for tape over the nips- marathons

I think the back of this said "Don't die, jerk!"




SHS student Gabriel after running the marathon.

Entertainment day at our school


Student playing "sick farmer"






Group photo!