Week 11

Week 11. I cannot believe it's here. This time next week I'll be back to the Western world. Back to order, cleanliness, health, car payments, job searches, and responsibility. Crap. Since I will be traveling next weekend  I will be filling this week with bittersweet goodbyes, Alvaro, and pineapple, so this will be my final post of the trip.  Those of you that have been following along THANK YOU! And enjoy a few of my closing thoughts.

A few weeks ago I started making lists. Lists of things I couldn't wait to get home to (other than friends, family, and dogs of course), lists of things I would do when I got home, and things I would miss about my time here. So here they are:

Things I can't wait to get home and do:

1) Brush my teeth with my electric toothbrush. And use the tap water to do it. 

2) Take a shower that doesn't involve buckets. And with warm water. 

3) Eat a salad. 

5) Drive my car. 

7) Be able to understand the conversations I am overhearing. And for that matter sit in a room where I can understand the language that is being used to socialize. 

8) Not live across the street from constant horn and drum practice.

Things I will definitely miss:

1) Tro-tro rides. Always. 

2) How helpful some people can be. Taxi drivers helping you find the tro-tro station after you deny them service is awesome. And when their directions are correct? It's nothing short of a miracle.

3) Africa time. Constantly having an excuse for taking your time or sleeping in late.

4) The people I worked closely with.  Everyone at Point Hope, Bismac at the nutrition center, and a select few nurses had an amazing ability to make me feel comfortable half way across the world. For that, I will forever be in their debt. 

Things I will miss and not miss at the same time:

1) Paying the same price as everyone else for something. Over charging obronis is borderline racist. But like, it was really fun haggling. And when I get home the lady at the grocery store will have to excuse me when I gasp at pineapple prices. 

2) Being called out for being white. I'll miss hearing little kids calling me obroni and every taxi and tro-tro mate fighting over my business. I won't miss people at the market continuing to scream at you when you're clearly ignoring them. No more 'white lady! madam white!' I also won't miss the 'harass the obroni' game or people not realizing that obroni sounds the same in Twi as it does in English (aka I can tell when you're talking about me).

3) Being chased by chickens or goats every where you go. Sometimes that's just fun. 

4) The energy. It doesn't matter what time it is every one is always so full of energy and life. I won't miss, however, the volume of the energy. 

5) The constant marriage proposals. Fun at first. Then someone brings their son/brother/cousin to your work and you start to feel like an object. 

Things I will NOT miss:

1) The smell. One of the other volunteers described it as a mix of sweaty bodies, food, animals, and urine.

2) Watch your step. If it's wet and you're wearing sandals- avoid it. And all little black bags- they might squish. 

3) Dumsor. Ghanaian word for lights off and some of my most miserable times. 

Getting used to life here was not difficult. I'm remembering to hold my breath in the really stinky spots and I've caught onto some simple Twi pretty easily. I actually don't believe that a week from today I'll be sitting at home catching up on The Walking Dead. Like any other place or job in the world I've had good days and bad days. And while I'm so excited to return to the way of living I'm used to, I can't help but to think- most people I've met here don't escape this. They will never stop roughing it. They won't stop worry about the risk of malaria and other tropical disease. They'll always wonder if this is the time that the lights won't come back on.  And they won't stop worrying if their water or food is safe- and for some, if they will be able to eat at all. The emotional toll of daily living here is astounding. But somehow, someway, everyone manages to go about their day with a smile on their face, bopping along to the constant background music of the landscape. 

As I sit and reflect on my time here, I can't get one thing out of my head. And I've been thinking it since I got here. How would my life have been different if I was born into this world? If I was born a split second later into the home of a mother who wasn't able to eat well her whole pregnancy and who won't get drugs afterwards?  How would I be different if I didn't know where my next meal was coming from while growing up?  And would I still lean as heavily on my brain and my education if the education I received was of poorer quality?  What if I didn't have the unconditional love and affection of my family?  What if my life was uprooted by war and I was forced to relocate to a new country? What would my life be like? What kind of person would I be?  I don't think these questions will ever be answered- and because of that, they will stay with me forever. 

I wrote in my first post that I was hoping this trip wouldn't change me to much but, to be honest, it has. I come away knowing how people have to survive everyday and the thoughts they share on their situation.   I have context for refugee life both during resettlement and trying to integrate afterwards. I come away having learned how simple life can be if you let it, and how much happier that can make you.

I don't know if I'll be back to Ghana. I kept saying the whole time here that there are other places in the world to explore, but I've grown attached to some of the people here, so I think time will only tell. I will miss this country though, the way of life and all the people here. 

One final thing. Please be careful when asking me how the trip was. It will be very difficult for me to feel right generalizing with an answer like 'good'.

Week 10

Week 10. Double digits. 2 weeks left. No matter how I look at it my mind is blown that my time here is just about up. 

I want to tell a few stories from this week. 

The first one I was sitting in the nutrition clinic. It was Monday and one of the nurses, Okia, and I had just finished doing an outreach clinic, the ones were we go to other places in camp and give immunizations. We were done early and socializing back at the clinic. Okia is one of the nurses I've grown very fond of.  She is always laughing and she is the one that nicknamed me Obroni Abena (Abena because it is common here to be named after the day of the week you were born on- for me, Tuesday. And obroni because, well, I am one)- she also claims she started calling me this because she forgot my name as soon as I said it. Despite that, our senses of humor have always matched perfectly. She tells me racist Chinese jokes and says the only reason she is pregnant is because she eats to much fufu. She yells at children for staring at me and has taught me all the swear words in Twi so I can defend myself to rude locals. Monday she was giving me another Twi lesson. This time I was learning a few commands- sit down, come, go- and she starts getting into some of the objects near us. 'See this?' she says, while pointing at a chair. 'This is a chair'. Ok, I think, I can handle that one. 'But, this? Do you see this?' she points at a bench. 'This is also-chair.' Anything you might possibly sit on, I learn, is called chair. And it is up to you and context to figure out what that other person means. And chairs aren't the only thing treated this way in twi. All clothing is dress, any kind of foot wear is slippers, anything that might resemble a rope (straps, twine, links of chain) is string. 'Everything is very simple here'. 'Well what happens if you go into a shop and ask for a chair when you need a bench?' I ask. 'Well, you don't. You are satisfied with the benches you have'. She explains. 'Ok, but why is the language like that, though? So simple?' And then she said something that I don't think she realized at the moment but, it will stay with me forever. 'Well because, life is simple'. 

Between learning about how simple life is here and writing about Pop's simple answers last week.. I'm starting to think that Pop and the Ghanaians are onto something. 

So after Monday, I had a rough few days. If I've been explaining myself throughly then you'll know that the nurses and I have been doing a mosquito net project. Volunteers for the hospital went around door to door 2 weeks ago registering people and counting how many beds in the household. Based on those numbers we allocated a certain amount of nets per family. Well the time has come this week that we start handing them out.. I have never seen so much hostility my whole time here. 2 months of walking around a third world country feeling safer than I do some places at home and here I am getting screamed at in Twi over a stupid bed net! We started off just sitting at a table outside but the table kept getting swarmed by people making wild accusations about the system we were using. When we would run out of nets and have to wait for the next batch to arrive- 'You've got them, you're just not giving them to us!' 'You're just giving them to your Liberian sisters before us!' 'We've been waiting here all day and we're hungry' (It was the morning when I heard that one, and there was a lady selling porridge right next to us). A man had to get escorted off the premises because he needed to calm down.  And, of course, since I'm white, I was a very easy target. 'The obroni doesn't know what she's doing! She wrote the wrong number on my coupon!'- so you can say it was a stressful few days.  Eventually we got moved inside a very small room so we could shut the door every 5 people. That didn't stop the angry crowd from swarming the door every time we opened it with more accusations. It was to the point that I couldn't even feel like I was helping people. There were some people that I wanted to refuse nets to, but then I would remember- no, no this is for their health. Even if some of them will sell theirs off or refuse to sleep under it because of the heat, I know some need them and will use them properly. It wiped me out to say the least. 

So it's been a long day of getting screamed at over nets and it's time to go home. I'm very hungry and can't wait to be there.  Dreaming of fried plantains and pineapple, I'm sitting in my tro-tro.  I've paid my mate for the ride and I'm looking out window. We're bumping along the dirt and I see a boy, a little boy, maybe 10 years old in his oversized school uniform. Happy. So happy to be alive and dancing to the music being played at the tire shop behind him and I remember Okia's words- 'well because, life is simple' -anddddd breathe. 

This weekend another volunteer and I decided we needed to get away from the flat and dirty city life, so we went east to the Volta region to do some exploring. Our destination? Wli Falls- the tallest waterfall in West Africa. One of the Point Hope workers' father died recently and the funeral was in the same area so we planned on hitching a ride with them for the 5 hour drive out there. After a night of no sleeping (final Friday of the month and our neighbors were celebrating, aka amplified preaching with the back up of the marching band..), we 'woke up' at 3:30, with the band still playing, to start our adventure. I tried sleeping in the car on the way but the bumps in the road were making it difficult. We were dropped off at the tro-tro station in HoHoe at 9am where we caught one out to Wli. When we got there we checked into our breath taking accommodations and spoke with the the German woman who owns it.  From our room you could see the falls and the amazing ridge line that it sits on. (I really wish I could put into words how beautiful this view was, it was that good, but I guess you'll just have to take my word for it). Our German host gave us some breakfast and some advice about the falls and we were on our way. We were able to walk to the reception area from our hotel where we paid for our guided hike up to the upper falls. This hike was easily the steepest one of my life and I don't think I've ever sweat that much. Prosper, our guide did the entire 2 hour hike in jeans and flip flops and was on the phone half the time. On the way up we got some beautiful views of the upper falls and the town below but the once we reached the top those views were put to shame. The water was so cold and refreshing but we didn't spend much time at the top. Just enough for Prosper to ask Heather and I if we were married and to snap a few pictures. Once at the bottom Prosper begged us for a tip for the same amount that we paid as an entrance fee and after only giving him half of that he left us to find the lower falls on our own. We got to the lower falls with ease and couldn't wait to get in. The water never went over our heads so we were able to duck under the falling water and the cold water felt so good on my fatigued legs. There was some kind of school or church group also there so after we got sick of everyone wanting to take pictures with the obronis we took off. We got back to our accommodations around 4, just in time for some Alvaros and fries before dinner. It was lights off at the hotel all night but we were both so exhausted from no sleep the night before and the grueling hike that we fell asleep just fine. In the morning we started our long journey home and after a hassling customs and immigration check point (they almost detained us because my passport has been tied up with them for 2 weeks now getting my visa renewed) and a not-so-scary ferry ride we made it home. I was glad to get out of the city for a while and enjoy the much cleaner rural Ghana on what will probably be my last weekend adventure.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Best thing carried on someone's head: computer tower

Ghana food for the week: Mango jelly

Number of times the lights went out: maybe only 3 or 4?

Here is the view from our accommodation. The falls are just to the right of that big tree.

Here is a view of the upper falls on the way up the trail. 

And the view of the city below. 

Our guide, Prosper. Notice the sandals. We saw another guide at the top with no shoes at all!

My legs felt like jelly at the top but I did it!

Lower falls. With everyone swimming underneath. 

Week 9

So one of the nights this week I was hit with a surprise wave of emotion. It had everything to do with Pop and how much I missed him this week. I think a lot of things have been adding up to this so I'm going to write to process, because that's how I do things these days. 

So being in a country where everyone is 'with Jesus' has been an interesting situation. One thing I've been forced to do through all of this is face my beliefs. In a place where the 'word of the lord' is all that you need in life, you better damn well be ready to defend yourself when you answer 'no' to the question 'do you go to church?' I've had to explain myself enough that I've pretty much got it down. I believe in living a moral life. I believe in spirituality.  And I believe that humans need a guide. We can't do it alone. And for some people religion is a fantastic answer.  I don't believe in organized religion as a weapon for spreading hate, however. Yes, I know, not every pastor preaches hate in their sermons  and I have definitely read enough about ISIS to know that they do not represent Islam as a whole, but when you are no longer accepting of me because I worship a different God, or worship God differently than you- we've got problems. Seeing the world differently is not a sin and I don't deserve to be killed or condemned because of it. I am entitled to my opinion just as you are and if you choose to be insulted by this then that is exactly what you are doing, choosing to be insulted. 

Sorry getting off topic a little bit, but its important. I know, I know- that's great and all Lisa, but what does it have anything to do with your Pop?

Well, I learned a lot about living by a certain code (not in a creepy Dexter way), and a moral life from my father. And he learned it from his father. My Pop, who we lost recently. It used to make me so angry growing up when my father would stubbornly stick to his morals but I'm realizing that this has given me a path to (roughly) follow. And you know what, I consider myself very lucky that it came directly from some one I love. A few conversations you should know about with Pop so that you can fully understand what I mean. When Pop organized an entire 21 person vacation for my family in 2011 he was giving a toast. He stood up at one end of a very long table and in this toast to his whole family and he said 'whatever you do in life, help people'. Then just recently, I was visiting him in Chicago for Thanksgiving. Almost exactly a year ago now. And I was struggling with patient care during my dietetic internship. Who better to ask for advice than the guru himself. I needed to explain to him that I was having trouble reading doctors notes about patients along with the stigmas that the media has placed on chronic illness, and who is at fault.  All of this while not passing judgement on them before our interviews- I asked him what he thought. 'We must not pass judgement on others' he said. 'But how Pop? How?' And all he kept saying was 'we must not judge others,' like it was so easy for him. Then I realized, maybe it wasn't that easy. But it was that simple. 

So I was struggling early in the week when one of the other volunteers was receiving what seemed like special treatment. She was getting carted around the country, with lunches and souvenirs bought for her, under the justification that she was spending her own inherited money to be here. Well imagine how insulted I felt hearing this when I was, in fact, doing the exact same thing.  (And to be fair, she is much younger than I am and I have been carted once this trip- see trip to Krisan. But it's not the act, as life always goes, it's the justification of the act). I am just here trying to make my grandfather proud of his granddaughter and trying to help people..

I spent a rough few days fighting these feelings when it dawned upon me. What would Pop tell me if I came to him with this situation? And all I could think about is how simple his answers were in the past when I came to him with other problems. So now I sit here, the weight of heavy emotions lifted, knowing, without a doubt in my mind that he is proud of what I am doing. And that's all need. 

Happy Birthday Dad!

Week 8

Like I said last week, I'm running out of ideas for posts so this one might be short and it's just some random streams of thought that I've had through out the week.. here goes. 

I think I am bad luck for tro-tro drivers. I don't know if it's because it's true or because I'm just taking them more often, but I can now count on 2 hands the amount of times I've had a tro-tro break down to the point that everyone has to get off and find a new one. And each time this happens is an adventure in itself. Are you going to get the right amount of money back? Are you going to get your money back at all? Based on where you get picked up and where you are going the ride cost a different amount and once you've broken down the mate will usually just give back whatever you are happy with. My common tro-tro route costs me 1 cedi 20 peswas (about 35 cents) and each time we've broken down I've gotten back the 1 cedi note but the 20 peswas have mysteriously been missing. I usually just consider it the fee for the distance they've brought me, count it as a wash and start walking. The difference comes in where you break down. I've been at a spot where the rest of my ride cost 80 peswas. Hey! I just made 20 off the day. I'll take that. But Friday. Oh Fridayyy. First of all I was at the tro-tro station and usually there are 1 or 2 waiting to go to where I need to be. I hop on and hope that the mate I have isn't a jerk. But Friday, I had to wait for almost half and hour while some guy tried to sell me sandals and got very upset when I didn't want any. He even enlisted the help of the lady next to me to try and guilt me into a purchase. Finally a tro-tro rolls around. Remember that thing I said about the 'no lines' thing here. Yeah, every one that is waiting just shoves right on. Luckily, or unluckily as chance may have had it, I got a seat. We're bumping along for no more than 5 minutes (of a half an hour ride) and the tro hits a pot hole and smoke starts coming out of the engine. Great. I jump off and go to the mate to collect my money back. A 1 cedi note he gives me! Well I'll be damned if I'm going to lose money off this tro-tro and the mate has run off already with his bag of coins so I start walking down the road to where I know the rest of my ride will only cost a cedi. Which brings me to my other point about tro-tros breaking down. Usually, and legally tro-tros are boarded at tro-tro stations- nothing fancy about them, they don't even rival the bus stops we are used to, just a place for the tro driver to pay a fine. Once you are out of the station it's heads or tails whether or not you will get a seat on a passing tro-tro. If they have let off a passenger and are looking to fill the seat you might be able to flag them down if you know the proper hand signals. If not, you just have to stand on a corner and hope that someone is getting off of a tro going the way you need to go. It's not as bad as it seems. I've never really stood waiting for more than 20 minutes. After a tro breaks down though the mate is usually helping the driver get the tro-tro is working order enough to fill up and break down somewhere else so he doesn't have the time or motivation to try and find you a new ride. It becomes up to you and your legs to get you to somewhere that is conducive for tro-tro pick ups. And when it's as hot as it is here and you've run out of water, walking half a mile down the dusty road isn't alway all that fun. 

That's every time a tro-tro breaks down. And like I've said, I can count on 2 hands how many times that has happened to me now, in the 2 months I've been here. Big deal, you get off one tro and get onto another, that doesn't mean you are bad luck, right?  Well that brings me to Thursday. I have a theory that the events of Thursday morning were in response to the practical joke I played on my mother Wednesday night.  I had to get a passport photo taken for my visa renewal and someone made the comment that it looked like a mug shot. Soon after the comment was made, my mom received said passport photo with a story of my alleged arrest. Everything turned out ok. She didn't even respond until a guilt filled 24 hours later when I finally gave in and told her it was a joke. Either way that might have been enough of a disturbance in the force to cause Thursday morning, or Tropocaplyse, as it should hence forth be referred, to happen. We did have lights off all Wednesday night though so I'm still skeptical. So I wake up Thursday morning at 6am after a night of tossing and turning. I had woken up with a migraine and took my medication at like 4. The meds make me a little hazy and generally dazed by life a little more than usual so I'm dragging my heels to get ready. My favorite breakfast of an omelette and fried plantains is sitting on the table. 'Oh boy!' I think, 'today's going to be a good day'.  We've run out of the UHT milk that we get from the store about an hour away so there is nothing to cut the bitter taste of my instant coffee. I'm rummaging through the cabinet and I find a cinnamon/sugar mixture. Well Starbucks has cinnamon flavored stuff, how bad can it be?  Yeah, don't put cinnamon into your instant coffee. It will just sink to the bottom. A spicy cinnamon bomb patiently waiting to explode on your last sip. So I'm sitting there enjoying my plantains and only partially enjoying my coffee when the marching band starts up its tune across the street. 7am already? Time to head off the weigh the babies. I walk up to the area where we catch tros in our town and there are none to be found. In an attempt for the police to collect more money they have been fining tros that pull over on the side of the road that I'm on and send them into the new station they have built.  So I have to head across the street to the station. There is a larger tro-tro waiting in the station filling up to go further than I need to. I don't like usually getting on these ones since getting off of them requires an obnoxious mixture of making people get off and climbing over those who won't. Something tells me this tro-tro just doesn't feel right, but I just chalk it up to the haze from the migraine pills. Plus, there aren't any other around so I jump on and let the mate know where I'm going. We're bopping along down the road and I'm doing what I usually do in tro-tros. Staring out the window while subtly trying to get more room so that my sweaty legs won't be tickled by your hairy ones. So I'm in a daze and I can still taste the weird coffee cinnamon experiment I had made when all of a sudden we hit a pot hole that I wasn't ready for. I grab for the seat in front of me and check to make sure my backpack is still secure on my lap. All of a sudden I hear our driver screaming, I look up and we're headed for the side of the road! I remember one of the first days I was here I was in a tro and I asked if any cars ever ended up in the gutters that are meant for drainage but end up just being open sewage and rubbish. Well. I got my answer.  We smash into the gutter and the front wheel stops us on a cement bridge meant for cars to cross over the gutter on. I do a mental check. Ok, not seriously injured, my knees hit something, but I'll walk away from this. By the time I snap to it, someone has smashed out one of the windows and I crawl out. There were 2 girls behind me sharing a seat, something the school children do to save money. I found them once we got out, checked with them that they were ok (they were), and started looking around for the mate. Everyone else seemed to be standing and in good health, in fact many of them were yelling and screaming at the driver. I figured they were getting angry enough for themselves and me so I got some of my money back and started trekking down the road to flag down another tro-tro, I mean death trap. I never quite figured out what happened. There weren't any people or animals crossing the road at the time so it wasn't a swerve. We weren't passing anyone on the wrong side, and the nearest pot hole was the one a ways back that made me jump. The best that I can come up with is that the pot hole broke something- steering, braking, or something- and the driver was trying to turn off the road. Everything seemed to turn around shortly after Tropocaplyse, however. The man on the next street corner was going to the same place I was and after showing him what had happened, he paid my fare on the next tro. He also asked me to marry him and if I wanted to attend the church he was preaching at.. BUT he paid my tro-tro fare. I was late to work at the clinic but the nurses still insisted on giving me first aid for the skinned knee I received. It wasn't even bleeding but I was still wiped down with some rubbing alcohol and blessed by the Holy Spirit. I then went on the have a good day of weighing babies, very few pee-ers.

So that was my Thursday. And after telling my mom all about it she said something along the lines of between the accident and the all the illnesses I sounded like I needed some chicken noodle soup. Now I'm sure she is just being my mom, nicest lady alive, and wants to make her daughter some soup, but it got me thinking.. I hope the things I report on here are more positive than negative. Africa has done its share of biting back and I know I have a tendency to report and write with  a more negative connotation, but that's only because I need more help processing those feelings. Plus since no one was seriously injured, the tro-tro story is pretty funny.. So in the spirit of positivity I would like to also mention, that Wednesday was the most productive day we've had on the farm as of yet!  We had 4 moms show up for food pick up!  Our largest number so far. We had our first mom show up 2 weeks in a row without prior harassment (you would think that it would be easier to give away food here), and we even had one mom show up with her little girl. I tried to teach the girl how to pull up the spring onions but she was too shy. 2 year-olds. It's so nice to see things finally coming full circle for these moms and families. 

I also got to help count up the coupons for the mosquito nets that the clinic will be distributing over the next 2 weeks. The nurses and some local clinic volunteers had previously gone out into camp, door-to-door, and registered people for the nets. And with about 10,000 people on camp that's a lot of counting. We spent half the day on Thursday and all day Friday trying to get a proper number to send to the area representatives. Then over the next 2 week we will be delivering them. It was explained to me that most people on camp know that they help prevent malaria but almost no one has them because they can't afford them.

Each book has 50 coupons in it. And that's not even half of them. 

Also, this weekend I got to go to a wedding.  We were invited because Belinda, our chef/housekeeper, is a member of the church it was at and was working as an usher.  Weddings here are all very different based on your tribe, which region you are from, and how traditional you are. The bride and groom were apparently not very traditional so the wedding had a typical format. There was lots of music and dancing, even before the bride was presented there was a dance party in the aisle ways, the decorations were so bright and colorful, and the biggest difference- it was treated like a rock and roll concert. The lady next to us kept whooping and hollering every few minutes. And she wasn't the only one. 'Kiss the bride!' she would yell out. 'Kiss the bride! Wooo!'.  My favorite part, though, was that it was the maid of honor and best man's job to continually wipe away the sweat and fan the bride and groom the whole time. After the ceremony we went to a short reception across the street and ate food that I recognized, which I was grateful for. We toasted champagne to the bride and groom, which was really just sparking fruit juice. And we watched the couples first dance, during which people hung money on them, kind of like strippers. All in all, it was a great Saturday. I was very glad Isaac and Grace let us witness their marriage; I just wish I would have been able to meet them. 

Here's the maid of honor doing her fanning. 

First kiss. Which everyone got to vote on. The audience decided they weren't happy, so the couple had to kiss again. 

Bridal party with the ushers. Belinda is in the top row all the way to the left, a little hidden. 

Here the bride and groom are entering the reception area. They kind of half danced half walked in. I just took the picture to show that you could never really get close to them. 

Friends of the bride and groom are in charge of the champagne toast. They all must shake them as hard as the can before opening. 

Parents of the bride and groom in their more traditional ware. I kind of had to sneak most of these pictures. I was already sticking out after all.

First dance. Like I said, family members were coming up and hanging money off of them like strippers. 

That turned out longer than I expected.. Closing thoughts: One more month here, and I suspect it will fly by. And don't worry, not even Tropocaplyse can kill my love of tro-tro rides.. it just adds to the adventure. 

Ghanian food this week: Pineapple :) So much if it.

Best thing carried on a head this week: Car tire. Rubber meets hair.

Number of times the lights went out: 4, I think. Long ones again, all day Sunday. Wednesday evening. Most of Thursday, and Friday when I came home with an uncharged phone :(

Week 7

Weeeeeeek 7 everybody. Over half of my time here is over and just when I'm starting to get comfortable..

So I was contemplating what I would write about this week then is dawned on me. Duh. I'm a dietitian. Working on nutrition stuff here. And I've barely spoken about the food at all. So this week is all about food. 

In general Ghanians have a very starch based diet. Common staples are rice, pasta, yams (which aren't orange) and cassava (similar to potatoes). And these staples are consumed in the highest amount at each meal. Seriously. It's unreal how much starch everyone eats here. And like I said earlier- very little protein. I eat 2 pieces of chicken at my meals and Belinda, our chef, thinks I'm insane. Traditionally Ghanians process their starches heavily as well. Not in the sense that we think of processing. No cheese-its here, but they will leach all of the starch and water out of cassava and call it ampesi, or ferment corn meal all day and call it banku. They will also mash cassava with plantains into a very sticky mixture and call it fufu. A favorite of one of the nurses at the nutrition center, in fact she claims that she doesn't actually have a baby in her belly, it's just a lot of fufu. The staples here are not eaten alone, however. There are a number of different soups and stews that are very popular ways of eating your protein and vegetable servings, most of which can be very spicy depending where you get it or who is making it. Other popular local dishes are grilled or fried tilapia and waakye (pronounced 'wa-chee').

I took pictures of everything I ate this week, starting Tuesday evening when I got the idea.  Most of the food we eat at the guest house is Amercanized Ghanaian food, and I didn't really realize exactly how Americanized it is until I started taking pictures so sorry but you'll be looking through a few pictures of pancakes as well. 

Monday:

Wait! Monday? I thought you said you were starting with Tuesday evening? I know, that is when I got the idea and started my documentation but on Monday we had made mac and cheese and green beans as an obroni treat (very little dairy here- it goes bad to quickly) so I had to take a picture and send it to my mom (who was not nearly as amused as I was excited, can you blame her though? big deal, mac and cheese and green beans. yeah you go 6 weeks without cheese and let me know how you feel when you get it again)... anyway. 

Tuesday:

Here was our evening meal. This was the portion for everyone and don't worry I smartened up later in the week and documented only my own. Here is some tomato stew (hands down my favorite thing here), fried rice, and fried chicken (also, everything is fried here.. lots of starch and fried things- and they are suffering from malnutrition.. it's kind of strange to me too). 

Here are the left overs from an orange I had for dessert. Oranges grow naturally here and are so cheap (like 6 cents). 

Wednesday:

Here's breakfast on Wednesday. Pancakes with banana slices and instant coffee. 

Dinner on Wednesday. I only really eat twice a day since I'm to cheap and to nervous to eat the food on camp. You would be to if you felt as sick as I did a few weeks ago. Also when you walk up to the ladies grilling the fish on road side and request a piece, sometimes they have to wave the flies off first to be sure that's the one you want. Anyway Wednesday was ground nut (peanut) soup day. I'm not entirely sure how to make it but it's got chicken, eggplant, and okra in it and the broth is very peanutty. I'm a fan but I wasn't feeling very brothy this day so I just pulled out the good stuff. Again with plenty of rice. And I get strange looks when I only take one scoop. 

After dinner was the real party. Part of a papaya (called paw paw here) and the greatest pineapple I've had in my life. You'll see through the week just how obsessed I am with it. And it's only like 30 cents for a whole one! Amazing!

Thursday:

Mmmm Thursday was my favorite breakfast. Omelet and fried plantain. Still with instant coffee though. 

Something I learned very quickly is that in Africa if you are offered food you have to accept it. I'm sure you can assume, for obvious reasons, why this is. So I was hanging out at the nutrition center after weighing babies all day when one of the nurses offered my some of her snack. Ok, I accepted and took a small pinch of this popcorn and ground nut (peanut) mixture. She looked at me very offended by how little I had taken and pour half her bag into my hand. Later in the week she offered me some buicuits (short bread cookies) and when I only took one she informed me what an insult it was to take something offered to you in odd numbers, and put a second one in my hand. Good thing she is so forgiving when it comes to my insults. 

Thursday for dinner was Belinda's award winner pasta salad. Delicious. And one of the few ways I will eat raw vegetables here. Along side of it, fried chicken. 

After dinner- more paw paw, another orange, and plenty of more pineapple. I would consider myself a heavy fruit and vegetable consumer at home and since I don't really eat any raw vegetables or fruits without peels here these are the ones I go crazy on. 

Friday:

Friday breakfast- egg sandwich and oatmeal. I wasn't really feeling the oatmeal so I scrounged in the kitchen for some fruit. 

Instant coffee still. 

Friday for lunch Bismac was having waakye and offered me some. This was my first taste of it and I loved it. Kind of a spicy rice and beans mixture. And I ate it with my hands. Actually hand. Right hand only. Left one is considered very dirty and rude to use with someone else's food. 

Friday dinner was left over tomato stew and fried rice. Not complaining. Like I said its my favorite. I could eat it for days. And since I had a long, hard week.. I rewarded myself with the purchase of a pineapple on my way home. 

Saturday:

Saturday breakfast was Indomie, a very popular street food made with ramen noodles, beans, vegetables, eggs, and on the street you get it with sardines :). This one Belina made for us, but you can get it road side very quickly and cheaply. Consider it Ghana's McDonald's.. sort of.. not as gross and evil (sorry, I'm still a dietitian). With it, instant coffee and more paw paw. I think I may be exposing myself as the fruit theif in the house..

Saturday I went to the movies and I didn't want to bore you with a picture of the American snacks that I paid way to much for so I'll just let you know that I did mindlessly snack on chips and candy during the movie. Even with all this Americanized Ghanaian food, I still needed to feel American-American for the afternoon. 

Saturday dinner was leftover tomato stew again. Mmmm. Also pictured is a cup of leftover hot and sour soup from when some of the others in the house had gone to get Chinese earlier in the week. And the Lucozade I was talking about a few weeks ago. My electrolytes were happy again after this. 

Sunday (today!):

Pancakes for breakfast. And instant coffee.

So that was a tour of my Ghanain meals for the week. Not pictured, but consumed often, grilled plaintain, cabbage stew, boiled yams, and this other greens and egg stew that is impossible to describe without eating it.  And even then I don't know what's in it, but it's good, promise. And how could I forget Alvaro? I try not to drink it too much since I know 1 or 2 and week, will turn into 1 or 2 a day, will turn into as many as I can drink in one sitting.  It's a soda that comes in pineapple, pear, and passion fruit. It's like heaven in a bottle and just writing about it makes me want to go out and get one. Maybe I'll go get one right now after all I haven't had one all week. There's proof of that. And maybe I'll get some pineapple while I'm out. 

But wait! Where's the banku, and fufu, and all the Ghanaian foods you were describing at the top of this post?? In an attempt to make us feel a little more at home here we don't eat much of the local food unless we seek it out ourselves. And like I said, I'm nervous to do that without a chaperone. Also Belinda told me she will never serve me cassava since 'that's what poor people eat'.  I will try anything that people I trust give me to try. I wish I had a picture of the road side tilapia and ampesi I had with Adam last week but you'll just have to trust me. I've also tried soup overpowered by ginger, fish stew, and yes, I've tried fufu. And I didn't get pregnant. That's all for this week. I'm running out of topics so ideas are welcome!

Best thing I saw carried on a head: A bunch of plantains. I don't mean like, a lot of them, well I kind of do, but I mean like, a bunch of them. Still attached to the branch. 

Lights off this week: this week was terrible for lights off. All day last Saturday, and Sunday, and Monday, and half of Tuesday. It's not the lights off that I can't handle.. it's the lack of fans. And lack of phone charging (first world problem, I know, but what can I say.. my passport says America). 

Week 6

Wow. Week 6 already. I honestly cannot believe I'm half way through my time here. It really seems like yesterday I was waiting in a glob of people to go through customs into a country that I knew very little about. It took me this long to process my observations about some of the similarities and differences between the people here and in America. Now, I'm about to make some pretty sweeping generalizations so in no way should the next few paragraphs be taken as an end all be all to the people and culture here, positive or negative. These are just the observations of one person. 

First thing I noticed. Ghanians have no sense of lines or order- or personal space for that matter. Getting off the plane here took easily half an hour and I was cut in front of at least 3 times at the store the other day. I don't know where it comes from but the personal space bubble is much smaller here than America. I have heard that Americans have rather large space bubbles but seriously, when I'm walking down the street you don't need to be on my heels. And if you have a question, I can still hear you when you aren't in my face. Because of this tro-tros and taxis make for very touchy times. I really don't mind it that much, really though, it's just that I'm usually sweating anyway and with your leg resting on mine- I'm going to sweat all over you. And nobody wants that. 

Another thing, logic and reasoning- not so common around here. I think it comes from sub standard education; you know those grouping work sheets we all did in kindergarten, which one of these is not like the others? And the logic puzzles, who's wearing what to the party? I didn't realize how important those were to critical thinking skills until I came here. Someone told me that other day: if you give a Ghanian 10 chickens and explain to him that they will lay him eggs for the next 2-3 years, with which he can sell to buy more food, or eat himself- the Ghanian will eat chicken for 10 days. 

Oh and did I mention that Ghana is one of the most religious places in the world? Nothing stops a get-to-know-you conversation faster than telling people I'm not all that religious. That's ok right? Not many people ask about religion at home. Every single person I've talked to for more than 10 minutes has asked me. I've started lying and saying I'm Jewish just to see their reaction. Oh and everything is named after Christianity. God is good beauty salon. Christ has risen mechanic. I ate at Everything in the name of the Lord food joint the other day. 

English is spoken a little differently here. I'm actually starting to really like it, but everything is described or conversed to the highest degree possible. Everything is searched for, not looked. Things get spoiled, not broken or dirty. And the progressive tense is nearly non existent. 'She's coming' turns into 'she will come'. I got corrected on that pretty early. Another time someone was dropping off a bag of water for one of the nurses to sell the next day at clinic and she wasn't there at the time. Turned out she had sent him to do this task for her. 'Was she wearing a uniform identical to mine?' another nurse asked the man. Really? Identical? Your uniforms all look similar but, actually, none of them are identical! Yours have green bands around the arms and hers doesn't. The nurse over there has fewer button then you. I know I'm nit picking but if you are going to choose a word as strong as identical, I'm going to nit pick about it being true. Strangest of all, and it happens all the time, when someone wants a favor they will beg you for it. 'Please, I'm begging you, can we change the time of our meeting?', 'Can you grab me a water on your way here, I'm pleading'. Ok! Ok, yes! If it means that much to you I will pick up your baby's hat that he just to threw on the floor- begging isn't necessary. 

Final thing. People are so happy and helpful here. Someone will wake up in the morning, not knowing if they will be able to eat dinner that night but he or she will be able to help you find a cab to where you need to go and they will negotiate the price for you too. These are the people that get me through the day. 

This week was very restoring. I knew there wasn't much for me to do at the nutrition center on Monday and when I showed up I was right. I sat on my computer all day spending as much time as possible trying to develop a list of foods and their market prices to use as a budgeting tool later. At the end of the day I had it only about half way done and Bismac asked me if I just wanted him to fill out the rest and why I hadn't asked him earlier. Dude, come on. Tuesday was baby weighing day. Then came Wednesday. I had been invited along for a visit to another refugee camp that Point Hope has programs at earlier in the week by Jan, Point Hope U.S. executive director, to check on the nutrition program there and see how things were running. It would be a 3 day trip and we were set to leave Wednesday afternoon. Wednesday morning I went to the farm. I almost passed out in the field harvesting eggplant and spring onions but we managed to fill half of a 5 gallon bag of egg plant and a full one of spring onions. The truck was late picking me up for Krisan (other refugee camp) but eventually we got on the road. On the 6 hour car ride heading west along the coast we passed a rubber tree forest and one of Ghana's 2 port cities, Takoradi. It was such a relief; the roads around Krisan are the best in Ghana since they recently found oil in the area and Chinese oil companies, and their money, have started moving into the area. Since we left late, we got in pretty late so camp would wait until Thursday. We woke up and had lousy excuses for omelets for breakfast and got to camp in the mid morning. Krisan is actually still considered a refugee camp but is much smaller than the one I've been working at (about 1200 refugees, instead of the 10,000 at Buduburam) and is much more rural. Because of this there is no access to food unless you grow it yourself. And I mean that. There is one little food joint and I didn't ask the prices of the dishes but I'm sure it's more than someone that isn't working can afford. So we get to camp, check in with the camp manager and go drop off our vegetables at the day care center set up by Point Hope. There they have 2 class rooms for children 2-3 and 3-4 years old. This also is the site for distribution of 2 meals a day for children 6 months to 5 years old and a select few vulnerable people (HIV positive, TB positive, etc.), about 100 people total. After dropping off the vegetables we got a tour of the fields from farmer Ralph and the school where some of the older kids on the program are. During our tour the cooks started preparing eggplant and fish stew for distribution. Once we got back we spent some time putting together the new toys we had brought as well until it was time.   Finally! My time had come. I had waited 6 weeks but I was able to witness full circle the food that I had help grow and harvest in the field feed people that would other wise not be able to eat. I almost started crying on the spot. One little boy in line thought I was so crazy. Afterwards we went to lunch at a Spanish place right by the canoe launch for Nzulezu, a stilt village. Seriously, everything is on stilts. And canoes are their transportation. We didn't have time to go to the actual village but it was still pretty cool. During lunch Adam, the executive director for Point Hope Ghana, helped explain to me how to see instant need in places like Krisan and Ampain (another refugee camp very close to Krisan) where food is very scarce and the level of malnutrition is very high over places that have had programs set up for 7 years, like Buduburam. He even invited me to help write a grant to start a new program in Ampain since the UN stopped their feeding program there yesterday. Getting to play administrative staff was fun and seeing programs succeed are so necessary for refilling my soul bucket here. So much so that I didn't even mind spending 2 hours in traffic on the way home. To our guest house where there was no water and our neighbors were doing an amplified prayer service until 2 in the morning. 

And one more thing. I got a cold this week. A COLD. In an equatorial country. .. everyday is an adventure.

Ghanian food this week: Octopus. Yeah, really. It was somehow fried or something to make it kind of jerky-like and was spicy but was basically oversized calamari.

Best thing carried on someone's head: Sewing machine. 

Number of times the lights went out: 8 all day today and I never wanted them to go out more than Friday night. Who can sleep through a screaming pastor?

This I find so interesting. For a country that speaks such proper English they sometimes have a hard time spelling. I saw a place that cooks bread (bakery) spelled berkrey..

Here is the canoe launch for Nzulezu. They were filling the canoe with rice bags to bring out to the village.

This is just an internet picture of the village. We didn't have time to go all the way out there but I wanted you to get the idea. I'll go next time. 

Eating the octopus. Mmm tentacles. 

Here's the line for our food distribution. The boy that is waving is the one that thought I was crazy. He eventually came around. And yes he's older than 5 but since there are only about 100 kids on the program Tutu (director of the day care) explained to me that she gets to know the families and allows for others to do the pick up. 'And this way if he gets a few bites on the way home it's not so bad'. 

See. Here he is happy to have lunch for the day. 

Here are the portions that would be handed out to each of the school children. A little different than American school lunches.