Peace Corps Journals

More Pics from Ceremony in My Village

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Dude, let's go!

2012-02-09 11:08:00

I don't look happy at all, do I? I loved this day.

Mom and dad joined the dance circle. Gifty about had poor dad down on the ground trying to get him to"bend over!"

Chris and I

Just in case dad ever says he didn't have fun.

I'm not quite sure what is happening here, but the faces are hilarious.

Dad says Gifty reminds him of my sister, Jennifer. "Bouncing around, stirring up shit." Gifty is one of my favorite people in the village...and now that he mentions it, she does remind me of my sister!

Fufu'n

Kahn Academy for the win!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Caroline's Castle

2012-02-09 02:20:10

I've just bought a new tablet: I'm taking a class in computing in the classroom and it seemed prudent for me to try using some technology in the classroom, which I'm sure will feel very awkward at first as I've spent so many years getting quite good at taking notes on paper, but as educational technology is the future (and what I want to study) here I am getting rather annoyed at my on-screen keyboard.

Anyway, what I really wanted to write about is the Kahn Academy app I downloaded for it.

The Web-OS app is clean and easy to use, giving you access to thousands of educational videos without any distraction of cat videos or ads like you'd get if you watched the videos on YouTube. Although I recommend finding yourself a quite, distraction free time an place to work thorough the videos, the magic is that you can pause, rewind, and rewatch as often as you need, and you can watch them anywhere you can get internet access.
At first I thought these videos would primarily be targeting those who either don't have access to, or have not done well in traditional educational settings, I was delighted to learn that they are being used by whole classes in public schools to tremendous effect.

Using friendly, casual spoken English and multi-colored demonstrations, the classes start at the most basic level and take a learner through a skill tree to college level materials. The lectures are tied to interactive-feeback quizzes and live volunteer tutoring help, and all the data can be linked to a teacher dashboard. It is designed with an international, multi-cultural audience in mind.

The topics focus on the Maths and Sciences, and is transforming the way they are taught. With Kahn Academy, students can take risks, explore, and confirm mastery of each topic before moving on, avoiding the "swiss-cheese" gaps of other educational models that move a class relentlessly through material.

But, despite all these amazing possibilities, Kahn Academy doesn't have the hubris to claim it will replace classroom learning, but only that it frees up teachers and students to do the interesting, fun, group work in class, and let the lecture be done as homework. Additionally, by reducing the amount of busy work for both teachers and students, and giving the teachers detailed metrics of each students progress, time in school is spent on quality, individualized coaching.

I looked at Kahn academy a few years ago, and it was interesting then, but wow, has it come a long way. The tablet app is a wonderful was to get started, and I am excited to delve deeper into it!

Kahn Academy for the win!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Caroline's Castle

2012-02-09 02:20:10

Volunteer Reporting

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana GodspeedGhana

2012-02-08 23:19:00

Each yearly quarter I have to submit a report via a database to the Peace Corps telling them my about my projects and what I think about my experience here in Ghana. Since I've been a terrible blogger I decided to copy and paste some of my report here for your reading pleasure. You'll notice each section has a specific title and question I'm answering. At the end of this blog post you'll find a link to some pictures from the month of January. Enjoy! Godspeed. -Zachar

CommunityIntegration

As stated bythe drop down list, I feel somewhat integrated. I stepped into the shoes of the RPCV Guillermo Moratorio and experiencean expectation to be like him both internally from myself and externally frommy community. By the end of Guillermo'sservice he had learned Dagbani quite well and was spending many afternoonsaround the village sitting with the old men. The beginning of my service is not at all like the end of his. I struggle with the language, although I tryto speak it as often as I can, and I spend most of my time either in aclassroom, sitting with the other teachers of my school, or in my homepreparing for the next day's lessons or grading the exercises or exams fromthat day. I do receive continuousDagbani instruction once a week with four other volunteers and speak thelanguage weekly in the market and periodically through the week when in townrunning an errand or buying chop. However I feel like I have reached a plateau with my languagelearning. Until I have the time to sitand am forced only to use the local language then it will never sink in. I don't think I will be able to find thatkind of free time until I’m nearing the end of my service. For now my days are spent integrated andexcelling as a teacher in my school. Itake a great deal of pride in my work and the performance of my students. I believe I command their respect andadmiration and am regularly sought out for individual tutoring and help. At Diare JHS A I would say I am "wellintegrated". I have a friendly andprofessional relationship with our staff and students. I am very fortunate to be able to speakEnglish all day, every day. Although myDagbani suffers because of this, I am sought out for English tutoring andregularly have substantial conversations in English about development, the"Western" world, and cultural experiences. I am satisfied with my overall communityintegration and recognize my strengths and weaknesses within it.

Challenges

The biggestchallenges I face in my service are in my classrooms. Each Form presents its own challenges.

My Form 1students hardly speak English. It isclear that they were not instructed in English in Primary School. Many of them cannot read out loud the notesfrom the board/their notebook when asked to do so, when I ask a questionwhether orally or during a written exercise I regularly get no answer at all,and I feel nearly every other word I write on the blackboard is a newvocabulary word for them. Half of theother teachers at my JHS continue to instruct these Form 1 students in theirlocal language which only perpetuates the problem.

My Form 2students are over all the best performing students in the school. Their English isn't great, but clearlythey've benefited from having more in depth English instruction. They are also led by a prefect that commandstheir attention and disciplines them when necessary. So the challenge with this class is findingthe balance in instruction to the handful of very high performing students andto the rest which are struggling with English, concept understanding, andmotivation. The gap between the top andthe bottom increases every week.

My Form 3students are a hard bunch to figure out. This is the year that is going to make or break the rest of theireducation and maybe the rest of their future, however they sit around sleeping,playing games, and are generally lackadaisical about everything. Only 5 of 37 passed the First Term. When asked for course feedback they all admitto not studying and agree that my instruction is fair and of good quality. I'm very worried that it is much too late forthem to steer their collective ship in the right direction and I've resignedmyself to the fact that I can only help those that want to be helped, whichunfortunately is maybe 10 or so out of the 37.

The only otherchallenge of my service so far worth noting here is that from the time Iarrived until the problem was solved in mid-October my house was being infestedwith bugs at an exponential rate. Myceilings and walls were increasingly being covered with bugs and I was findingthem in my food. My patience came to anend and I called the PCVL but he was of no help whatsoever. I then called Mohammed Iddrissu from the TSOand he came out immediately for an inspection, concurred that my house was unlivableas is, and within a few days he had my home sprayed with a safe and effectiveagricultural insecticide that continues to work to this day. Immediately after spraying my house shed allits bugs and although the cleanup project was huge, I now continue to enjoy ahouse that is bug free. Thanks Mohammed!

LessonsLearned

Most thetext below is copied from a blog post I wrote on January 3, 2012.

--End of theTerm Reflections--

This is howthe first term ended: 17 of 63 Form 1 students passed Integrated Science, 10 of53 Form 2 students passed Integrated Science, and 5 of 37 Form 3 studentspassed Mathematics. Over all theirperformances were very, very poor. Iknow this is a combination of my ability to teach but also their own disciplineand responsibility to study, do homework, and review their notes. I know most students not only failed mycourses but also the courses of the other teachers as well. Therefore even though I teach every periodI’m given, assign homework, teach extra classes, and invite students over to myhouse for tutoring, these Ghanaian students are just plain and simply badstudents in a bad situation. They don’thave parents that engage them about their studies but rather send them to farmor to work in the market, they don’t have textbooks to read and do exercisesin, and they don’t have any role models that exemplify the payoff of educationwithin their local community. I try togive motivational speeches and encourage them but it doesn’t seem to sinkin.

New thingsthat I want to try this upcoming term are: 1. give more homework – assign atleast 5 questions to answer after every class period; 2. get students to copythe notes before the class is actually taught so then we can do exercises,discuss, and answer questions during class rather than just copy notes from theboard; 3. bring two students to my house each night for one hour of two-on-onetutoring – for the Form 3 this means that they’ll get private undividedattention twice a month; and finally 4. since the in-class work (includinghomework, class work, and mid-term exams) is only 30% of the final grade (theterm’s final is worth 70%, a percentage dictated by the Ghana EducationService) I’ll give mostly pass/fail credit for doing the homework so thestudents just need to demonstrate that they’re trying in order to get most ofthat 30%.

So, teachingis a mixed bag but mostly it is extremely rewarding and I believe this isdirectly proportional to the hard work I’m putting into it. The other things that I spend my time doingare spending weekends with other PCVs during which we cook, relax, go tochurch, and run. My involvement in thelocal church is rewarding and life giving. I'm very happy to have found a small church home here in Northern Ghanawhere Christian churches are few and far between. I try to run twice or three times a week, butthat has slowed as my teaching work increases. I could save time by paying someone to do my laundry, sweep/clean myhouse, and do my dishes, but I like get my hands dirty and doing it all myself. The same goes for cooking. I could eat in town every night for just adollar, but not only do I like cooking for myself, I crave the variety in thefood whereas in town only a choice of two dishes is available each evening.

The New Yearwill be a time of finding my stride in the classroom and carving time to dosome more intensive language study and hopefully a little grant writing. Christmas and New Year’s Eve were totallystrange here, but nonetheless they were fun to celebrate. The awkward translation of these holidaysleft much to be desired. They reallywere just another day here in this country which is so different than home,with people that have so much potential but regularly come up short (myselfincluded), however this is an experience that is perfect in its own way. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

PlannedActivities

Mycounterpart and I have recently returned from our Education IST and are highlymotivated to apply for funding to improve our school. I brought up the topic at our staff meetingand asked for feedback about what the school's/community's priorities are. It was the staff's consensus that the schoolbuilding, specifically the classrooms are in dire need of renovation andimprovement. If money is going to bespent, then improving the learning environment of our students should be ourfirst priority. Therefore, in the nextfew months I intend to begin collecting the necessary information in order toapply for SPA or PCPP funding. Our goalsare to in all the classrooms: install open air windows and shutters, installdrop ceilings, install ceiling fans, install lights, install outlets, installwhiteboards, resurface the existing blackboards, paint the interior andexterior of the school, and repair the rain collection system and tank.

Peace CorpsGoal 2

I feel thatI somehow embody Peace Corps' Goal 2. Ioften I find myself saying, "In America..." I try not to interject an American/Ghanaiancomparison in every conversation but many topics lend themselves to bediscussed with a global perspective. Forexample, we might be discussing the upcoming Ghanaian elections and how theprimaries are conducted. The UnitedStates happens to be also in an election year and so I take the opportunity tomention how campaigning happens in the USA and how the primaries areorganized. If I'm remembering correctlyI have discussed sports, politics, religion, health insurance, family planning,education systems, and of course, food in this way with my teacher friends. I believe that in each of these topics I havehelped to promote a better understanding of America and Americans amongGhanaians. This was especially potent duringthe time of the American holidays Thanksgiving, Halloween, and the globalholiday Christmas. I was able to shareeven some small "toffee" gifts with my fellow staff and communitymembers.

When itcomes to my students the cultural exchange is even more frequent and indepth. My students are very curious howI live, the pictures I have on my wall, and what I do with my free time. We are constantly talking and sharing, especiallyin the evenings when I've invited students into my home for tutoring. This breaks down the student-teacher barriera bit and they feel freer to ask me questions. I also seize the opportunity during these one-on-one interactions to askfor help understanding the Ghanaian culture and in learning the language.

Peace CorpsGoal 3

I wasapproved to and went home to Chicago, IL USA for one week in between PST andreporting to my site. While I was homeand surrounded by family and friends (on the occasion of my sister's wedding) Itook the opportunity to do a slideshow presentation and tell them about myexperience thus far. I think thisengagement solidified the interest of a number of them when before they were alittle indifferent. Since this returntrip I've communicated with my immediate family every week, with interestedmembers of my extended family and my friends personally about very month andvia my blog and facebook.com pages even more often than that.

SuccessStory

The thirdyear of JHS is a critical time in the life of young Ghanaians. As students complete their Form 3 year theyhave only one thing on their mind, the BECE examination. This exam will determine if they are able tocontinue their education into Senior High School or if their educational liveswill come to a dead halt. It has been myown experience that during similar critical times in my life I relied on thehelp of my colleagues' peer education even more than that of the formaleducator. Knowing this I have madetraining and educating the Form 3 class leaders a priority so that then theycan educate their Form 3 peers.

Thisundertaking has been carried out through focused tutoring and frequentmotivational conversations with the Form 3 class leaders. The feasibility of this "project"has been further made possible because our school's General Prefect and ourForm 3's Senior Prefect are serious students that are motivated to learn andare natural leaders among their peers. In addition to these two formal leaders there are two other Form 3students that have sought me out for extra help with their mathematics. I've been able to spend at least 2 hours ofextra instructional time each week with these four students.

Theunderstanding and grasping of mathematical concepts by these four students hasbeen achieved. These four students areclearly the best, brightest, and highest achieving in the Form 3 class. They have frequently taken what they havelearned from me in our more intimate tutoring sessions and have re-taught thematerial to their classmates. I believemathematics has become a priority of these four students and some of theirpeers due to the utilization of this peer teaching methodology. Unfortunately, it seems the other students inthe Form 3 class are significantly less motivated to learn and are needing agreat deal of remedial work in their mathematics to bring them up to the samelevel of these four class leaders. Groupwork has been assigned and encouragement has been given to the class as awhole, however it seems at times that the Form 3 students have more faith in atest taking miracle than their own ability to find the answer.

Ideas and Recommendations

Since I teach all three gradelevels of JHS I am able to see the considerable change that occurs between aForm 1 and Form 3 student. A great dealof this advancement has to do with teaching using English instead of the locallanguage. I've been told and I'vewitnessed that at the Primary School level most of the instruction occurs usingthe local language. This is evident inthe poor English ability of my Form 1 students. Some of these first year JHS students cannot read or write. I seriously doubt they understand what I'msaying in class. My recommendation is toassign Peace Corps Volunteers to teach English at the Primary Schoollevel. By the time students reach JHS itis nearly too late to mold them. Anyimprovement of a student's English ability earlier in life will pay dividendslater on. This is not to take away fromthe importance and usefulness of learning the and via the local language,however it is clear that Ghanaian students are suffering from a severe lack ofEnglish instruction at the Primary School level.

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151292710230495.826883.705840494&type=3&l=6aaa462746

packing list

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Oh The Places You'll Go

2012-02-08 20:01:00

I saw on a fellow PCVs blog that she wrote down the stuff she wants to pack and what she already has. I figured I should do that at some point too. Just so I don't forget anything, and also so I don't wait until the last minute to get things. And as it turns out, there is a LOT more I need than what I thought. I have underlined the things I already have. And I have crossed out things that either don't need to be packed or that will be provided for me. So here is the list:

Clothing

lightweight waterproof jacket
sweater, sweatshirt, fleece
conservative swimwear
1 pair of tennis shoes
3 pairs of sandals
1-2 pairs of dress shoes/sandals
flashlight
2 lightweight pants
swiss army knife
5 skirts
5 blouses
2 dresses
3-5 tank tops
athletic shorts
2 pairs of cotton pants
5 tshirts
5 cotton bras
40-50 pairs of cotton underwear
5 bandannas

Bathroom

1-2 towels
1-2 wash cloths
toothpaste
toothbrush
shampoo
conditioner
body lotion
face lotion
facewash/pads
nail clippers
OB tampons
hair brush
Q-tips
razor
razor blades
shaving cream
3-5 deodorant
loofa
chapstick
ibuprofen
allergy medicine
kleenex
eye drops
first aid kit
hand sanitizer

Bedroom

1 set double sized sheets
1 set pillow cases
1 pillow
alarm clock (wind-up/battery)

Entertainment/Electronics

deck of cards
other card games
eReader
mp3 player
external hard drive
laptop
laptop bag
digital camera
camera case
world travel adapter
2 flash drives
unlocked USB modem

Personal

photo album
small items to give as gifts
journals

Miscellaneous

24 ziploc baggies
1-2 water bottles
1 pair of scissors
glue
handiwipes
umbrella
traveler's backpack
rechargeable batteries
battery charger
3 rolls of duct tape
prescription drugs (3 month supply)
2 pairs of glasses
prescription sunglasses
eyeglass repair kit
sunscreen
~~bug spray~~
ear plugs
head lamp
voter registration card
forwarded absentee ballot

from computers to calculators

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Oh The Places You'll Go

2012-02-08 19:35:00

Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote! Here is what has happened since then. I got a phone call a while ago saying that the Computer Science program in Ghana had been cancelled. I froze. What does that mean?! Am I no longer going to Ghana? Do I have to wait even longer? The guy on the phone said he would transfer me to my placement officer and she would talk to me about my options. He transfers me, and she doesn't answer. Of course. I had to leave for work shortly after that phone call, so I was worried I would miss my POs call. I left her a message, then decided to send her an email. I told her I had to go to work, didn't have access to my phone, but did have access to my email. I told her to email me with any details she could spare and that I was more than anxious to hear from her. Here is part of her response:

the good news is that we have an alternative assignment for you in the same Ghana training class that departs on June 4, 2012

I didn't care what the rest of the email said, I was just ecstatic I was still going to Ghana! And even more ecstatic that it was the same time frame! Then I read this:

Attached I am sending you the Volunteer Assignment Description for the Ghana Mathematics Teaching program

YES YES YES YES YES!!!! I more than LOVE math! Of course I would happily accept this new assignment! So what turned out to scare the absolute crap out of me, turned out to be something amazing! I am so passionate about math, so the fact that I will now be teaching it excites me so much! I just hope I will be able to get my students just as excited :-)

To Da Beach We Go

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Dude, let's go!

2012-02-08 10:59:00

So mom and dad survived their first night in Ghana just fine…and there was no critter in my mattress :)

The next morning we take a taxi with all our luggage to Kaneshi station, which is a huge tro/bus station in Accra. We had the taxi drop us on the side of the road where could catch a nice AC tro to Elmina Beach; these tros are not in the station and that helps avoid a whole lot of hassle. Mom and dad got to see the clusterfuck that is Accra traffic, complete with burning heat, choking exhaust, and ditches filled with funk and urine. We get out and start to drag our luggage to a tro and a guy grabs one of the little bags. Then he of course started to demand money. I’m trying to talk to the tro driver about our luggage, we’ll have to buy 2 extra seats to accommodate them, and the bag guy is harassing mom. People are pushing by on the street, announcements are screaming from the speakers, and food is being sold off people’s heads; the white people are melting in the sun. I determine that there is not enough seats for us and our luggage, so they tell us to wait for the next tro and there is no other tros on this side heading to Elmina. After a few minutes of trying to corral mom, dad, and our luggage, and fight off the bag guy, I tell mom and dad to stay put and not give money to anyone and I’m gonna walk down the row and see if I can find a different tro. Low and behold there is one, yippie. So I go back and collect mom and dad and the luggage and off we go as the tro driver and bag guy yell at us.

“Get in the first row and sit, I’ll take care of the baggage.” So I pay our new tro guy and am still fighting with the bag guy from the first tro. After 10 minutes or so we’re off. We’re sitting in line to leave and the bag guy comes up, smiles, and knocks on mom’s window and waves bye…it made her laugh. So after traffic and about 3 hours we land at Elmina junction where we have to catch a taxi to our beach huts. I argue again and then the guy loads our bags in his taxi…but the luggage won’t fit without leaving the trunk up. So we’re off, down the roads through the busy port town of Elmina. The streets are crowded, fishing boats are coming in, and mom and dad have their eyes peeled for their luggage falling out the back or for someone grabbing a bag…dad’s hand was on the door handle ready to jump out the whole time :) We keep going, pass through town, turn, go past a really nice hotel. “Oh that’s nice.” “Yeah, not for us.” Turn again and go past another nice looking place, “Is that for us?” “No.” “Where the hell are we staying?” At about that time we pull up to a thatch building… “This is us.!”

So we go down pulling our bags through the sand and the girls take us to our hut. It was super cute. Uh….no fan…that sucks! And a composting toilet…I’m afraid now…the parents are not looking so happy. “Look, you get to shower outside at night under the stars, it’s great!” That didn’t brighten them up, either.

We go and sit under a thatch hut and listen to the waves. The place is really beautiful and quiet. There’s a couple other people there…they have a dog that keeps fighting with the dogs that live at the place…mom spent the whole 3 days worrying about getting rabies...the one shot she didn't get :) We have a drink and just relax. That night at dinner we meet an old lady from Germany who has been traveling around Ghana, Togo, and Benin for 2 months. I thought it was good for her to talk to mom and dad because she has traveled extensively…then she told them how she got robbed in Ghana…dammit! Anyway, we go to bed and it’s hot as hell in the hut. Lights are only solar after 10 pm as the place is ran on a generator in the evening. Mom realizes she’s not going to able to fix her hair in the morning and starts to freak. “Don’t worry, no one cares what anybody looks like here.” “I don’t wanna look stupid in all my vacation pictures!” I forget that in some places people expect things of you, like make-up, deodorant, clothes that match…it’s gonna be a rude awakening for me going back to America! I spent the night sleeping on the floor (where I got to sleep for 3 days) coughing my lungs out thanks to the great harmattan weather, trying to muffle my coughs so mom and dad could sleep. It was a long, shitty, hot night!!! And since the toilet was out the back door, I got to play potty partners with mom all night with our headlamps…fun stuff, eh, mom?

Next day we get a cab into Elmina to visit the slave castle there. It was interesting and you could see the Elmina harbor…I just love their boats. After our tour we walk down towards the market because we wanna buy some fruit. Immediately annoying guys selling shit descend on us in the parking lot. After we get rid of them we walk; as we’re hunting for fruit sellers, a lil boy comes up and says, “Give me money.” I give my usual lecture, “ Can your mother not feed you? Where is your mother? Should I tell her that you are begging from strangers. You sound stupid. You don’t beg, it’s rude!” “Jeanna, shut the hell up, that girl over there has a machete!” (everyone in Ghana has a machete…that’s how they cut stuff). At this point, mom and dad don’t care about fruit anymore and since we don’t see any sellers, we head back to the castle area to catch a taxi. We do find a coconut seller and have a coconut while some little annoying girl talks shit to us in Twi. I hate going to touristy areas! I want to beat all the bratty kids and tell them that they are hurting themselves, their community, and Ghana by being obnoxious little beggars and that tourists will quit coming and they’ll have no one to sell their bags of water to then!

So after haggling with the taxi driver, we take off and head home after maybe 3 hours away. “I don’t care if we ever leave the hotel until our driver comes.” Yeah, that’s kinda what I figured. So we hang out at the huts, just relaxing by the beach, reading magazines mom and dad brought me, eating beef jerky and peanuts. I found a lady to take my braids out…dad kept telling me how bad they smelled…and they did, so that took 3.5 hours in the evening. We spent the evening talking to the German lady again. Our last day was just relaxing; reading magazines and dozing under the huts listening to waves. I got caught up on the happenings of Jefferson City :) It was nice!

Dartmouth and the Peace Corps: 50 Years of Partnership

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Ghana"

2012-02-07 17:36:55

	Dartmouth and the Peace Corps: 50 Years of Partnership Created by Jim Brown, senior lecturer in the Department of Film and Media Studies, this documentary chronicles the relationship between Dartmouth and the Peace Corps over the past fifty years. Through stories of their service, returned volunteers from each decade reflect on what their experiences have meant to them personally and for their careers. The film features interviews with Dartmouth alumni, including Charles Dey '52, who was instrumental in bringing the Peace Corps to campus as associate dean in 1961 and served himself as volunteer coordinator in the Phillipines in 1962, as well as distinguised Dartmouth professor Dr. John Rassias, creator of the Rassias method of language teaching.	From: Dartmouth Views: 37 0 ratings
	Time: 48:56	More in Education

Three Blind Mice

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Not all those who wander are lost

2012-02-07 18:39:00

There’s a new addition to the family! So yes, I’m still in Tumu with my NGO & they just got the cutest puppy from a friend of theirs in Tamale. She’s as playful as anything, is only about 1.5 months old, & has a fur coat of white, tan & gray. Jonas & I gave her a bath when she first got here, but we’ll need to give her another one soon because she gets into everything! My NGO wanted to give her a Sisaala proverb name, so they named her Zi Le Keng Chie (literally translated into “goodness has tomorrow” but figuratively means “goodness of the future”). If it was up to me, I would have named her Shadow because she follows me everywhere & if I’m not careful, I’ll step on her because she tries to gnaw on my shoelaces or the heel strap of my Tevas. She’s adorable anyway so I’ve posted some pictures of her below. My NGO already has a female dog named Ngaa worung na (meaning, “do well & see”) but she is an older dog that doesn’t want to be bothered with the puppy, so she’ll growl & snarl at her. Another reason why I’ve taken a liking to this new dog – to rescue her from Ngaa worung na that could easily tear her to shreds.

This past week went by really quickly with the Peace Corps here for the Dry Season Gardening IST. It was nice to meet some PCVs from the Northern Region that I hadn’t met before & there was one PCV from the far away Western Region that came as well. He lives on the coast overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. So not fair…let’s not talk about it. Anyway, all of the PCVs & supervisors loved the food that my NGO provided them, especially the baked goodies that I gave them for snack. In the morning, the classroom sessions for the IST were held at TUTCO (Tumu Training College) where Travis, my closest PCV neighbor, teaches ICT (Internet & Computer Technology). In the afternoon, the fieldwork was done in 3 surrounding villages: Pulima, Jawia & Kupulima. The last day of the IST, we constructed a drip irrigation system in Kupulima where David, my next closest PCV neighbor, lives. Fortunately, Kupulima has a dam, so setting up a drip irrigation system was possible. Unfortunately, my village Chinchang doesn’t have a dam, so no drip irrigation system for me – manual labor all the way. Anyway, setting up the system wasn’t easy, but with several PCVs, some of the Danish health workers & help from some of the Kupulima farmers, we finished it all in one day. According to David, the most important things to remember to do with a drip irrigation system are to flush out the system & to check the filter. Word to the wise, do exactly that. Because as soon as we flushed out the system by letting the water run through the pipes & tubing that we just set up, there were clumps of reddish-brown sediment that poured out & then the water stopped flowing entirely. Hmm that’s strange everyone thought…no one turned off the pump. “Let’s check the filter!” exclaimed Jordan (my third closest neighbor located about an hour south of Tumu), acting all happy because he remembered what David had instructed us. He then turned the control valve to stop the water flow, in case it started up again while checking the filter, when everyone heard the loudest CRUNCH. Well, I don’t really know how many mice were in the tubes or if they truly were blind, but I do know that they were dumb enough to crawl through our drip irrigation system because all of them died that day. Pictures shown below - just in case anyone was interested. In the end, we finished flushing out the system, including the mice guts, & we were finally able to watch water dripping out of the holes in the tubing. Then we planted some cucumber seeds & snap peas. Not too bad for a day’s work.

As for a sports update, CONGRATS GIANTS! And congrats to my dad & brother for winning the Super Bowl pool final score box = ) I wish I was there to celebrate with all of you (family & family friends) back home at the Super Bowl party, but I’m sure everyone had plentyyy of fun without me haha especially my cousin Nick that I’m sure was jumping up & down screaming his head off once the Giants won. Miss all of you & hope you ate some hot wings for me. And for other football news, I’ve also been watching Ghana play football (or our American soccer) in all of its matches in the African Cup of Nations on the TV in my NGO’s guesthouse. Their most recent game was playing against Tunisia in the quarterfinals & Ghana won 2-1, but their final goal was in OT & they were really lucky that they even got it. “It’s not easy oh!” all of the Ghanaians will say - & don’t forget the “oh” or you won’t be talking like a true Ghanaian. Ghana took a shot on goal & the Tunisian goalie deflected the ball rather than holding it, so a Ghanaian forward was there to easily tap it in. Luck, pure luck. Ghana has some good players, but as a team, they aren’t cohesive. I just hope that Ghana won’t get creamed by Zambia on Wednesday.

Oh, & I’m sick again. I think it’s a combination of heat exhaustion, eating unfamiliar Ghanaian food & overworking myself – but my NGO says it’s malaria. Then again, as soon as someone is sick in Ghana, the locals always say it’s malaria. Chissà? (in Italiano: “Who knows?”) But it gave Jonas (because he got sick the same exact time that I did..as well as half our guesthouse staff. weird.) & I an excuse to hang around & watch movies. One of the movies that we watched was 127 Hours & although that was the third or fourth time I watched it, it still reminds me of how important it is to cherish the people I care about in life. I mean, you never know what can suddenly happen to you, your family, friends, acquaintances, that really nice person that you just met on the subway - okay, well maybe not that person, they were probably a creeper – but really, the list is endless. So don’t end on a bad note with people & no matter how independent you might want to be, keep in touch with those that you care about. Whether it’s a relationship among family members, between a husband & wife, boyfriend & girlfriend, you & Joe Shmo down the street…keeping relationships are hard – they’re not meant to be easy. People always make the excuse, “I don’t have the time,” but then make the time. I thought that I would have so much down time here in Ghana, but since I’ve been living with my work, I’ve been working nonstop & see where that got me? Sick in bed. So make the time to call that person you didn’t call back yet, tell the ones you love that you love them, write to your friend who now lives on a different continent because it will make her the happiest girl around (just a little plug on my part haha), etc. It’s not too late to change your ways.

Love from miles away,

Rachel

Zi le keng chie & I.

The cutest puppy in town.

A few years ago, a VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas) volunteer had built a playground in Tumu, but when he left, the playground shut down. Until I walked passed the entrance did I see that some kids had broken the door open & were playing inside.

So the journey of Rick and Lola coming to Ghana started back in February 2010. Once I got my official Peace Corps assignment to Ghana, I started talking to them about coming to visit me at some point in my 2 years of service. The “oh, we’ll see’s” and the “maybe’s” were abundant. By the time I flew out on June 4, 2010, I figured I had at least a year to widdle them down. Many phone calls involved pleading with them saying that Ghana would be a big part of me and they should come and see my village and my people that would be such a big part of my life. The arguments ensued; they suggested we meet in Europe instead. I finally said, “Fine. I want you guys to come to Ghana, if you don’t want to, I understand. F’ it!” And within a few weeks (August 2011) they booked their tickets! Happy!!!!

Now came the shots: Tetanus, Hepatitis A&B, Yellow Fever, Meningitis, and malaria pills. They started gathering gifts for my villagers and copious amounts of American food for me :)

Now if you know my parents, you know they do not travel abroad. They have been to the Bahamas and Mexico. They had to get their passports and visas to come to Ghana. This was no small feat for them and that made it mean even more to me. Mom doesn’t like to fly, and Ghana is an 11-hour flight from D.C. My parents love me!!!

So, I booked our hotels and a car and driver to take us around. On Thursday (they flew in on Friday), I call them and check up on everything. Mom tells me that I should call the place we are staying at the beach to see if I could get a room with a private bathroom…she doesn’t want to go wandering around Africa at night to pee. So I call. “Oh, we do not have your reservation. All the rooms are booked.” “So, I called and you took my reservation on the 28^th of December, but did not put it in the book? So when my shiny, white parents, who have traveled for 20 hours from the land of snow to come and see me after 20 month, arrive in Ghana, I have no place for them to sleep? This is not ok!” After a couple hours of scrambling I find a hut for us to stay at in a close-by beach village (with a private bath). Ok. Fine.

So, at 2 pm Friday I’m standing at the airport in Accra and get to see mom and dad in the flesh for the first time in 20 months! We hug and I start tearing up a lil’, “Jeanna, don’t start blubbering!” Damn…bite lip…ok, ok. I’m good. We walk out and the airport taxi guys tell us it will be 30 cedis to get to our hotel…a complete and total rip off by at least 300%. So we start wheeling our luggage out to the round about (as I do when I go to the airport because you can get real price taxis 200 yards from the airport exit) and flag a taxi. He stops, then starts, then stops, then starts. He is trying to get out of eye-shot of the airport guys because they have started cracking down so that you have to take expensive airport approved taxis (bullshit!). So we finally get in and start going…and are promptly pulled over by a jeep toting 6-armed guards and their machine guns. Geeze… so the driver gets out and starts arguing. Mom and dad are sitting in the back wondering what the hell is going on. I’m trying to talk to the police guy. The driver gets back in after 5 minutes or so and tells me that I should “give him small” as he will have to “give the police small.” Dad yells, “NO.” And I’m like, “Brother, daabi. I’m not giving you anything except what we agreed on.” We go back to the round about. Driver gets out to talk to another official guy. I call bullshit and tell mom and dad to get out of the car, grab our bags and have the official guy hail us another cab. After 20 minutes of guns and bullshit we are finally on our way. We drive through Accra and I point out some points of interest. We get to our hotel, which is nice with AC, hot water, and is on the beach.

So, mom and dad brought a bunch of US dollars and we were gonna take it to the bank and have it deposited into my Ghana bank account so we didn’t have to carry so much cash on us throughout the 2 weeks. Banks close at 4:30 on Friday and don’t open again until Monday. So, we leave mom in the hotel room, and dad and I hail a cab in rush hour to get to the bank downtown in time. We sit in traffic for forever, sucking in exhaust fumes, hawkers coming up to sell their stuff at the car windows (this is normal in Ghana, but shocking to new comers). Finally we get to the bank after about 40 minutes of sucking fumes from the jankity tros next to us. I go to the counter, am sent to a seat, and we wait…this is Ghana. We wait, and wait. Dad and I talk while we wait. “You know what mom’s doing right now, don’t you? ‘They left me all alone in Africa after only 20 minutes. I have no money, no way to find them…what if they don’t come back?’” “Yeah, she’s probably not happy. But this sucks too and I’m not sending you out here by yourself carrying all this cash. WTF is taking so long?” Welcome to Ghana, dad. After about an hour and a half we got our money taken care of and caught a cab back. I picked some water sachets before going back to the room. Dad and I are just about to walk up the steps to the room when mom comes out. She must have heard us… “It’s about damn time! I was about to go to the bar and beg them to put a beer on the room. Where have you been? You left me alone here…no water…I don’t know how to find you? What if you didn’t come back? I was starting to panic! Dammit, you’re not ever leaving me alone in Ghana again!!!” Nostrils flaring, blue eyes burning. “I called that one!”…she was not amused. “And there was something gnawing in the wall or in that mattress…Jeanna you’re sleeping there. I’ve spent the last hour with me feet up on the bed afraid something was gonna crawl out and bite me.” Ghana….

So back together again, the three musketeers head up to the restaurant for food, beer, and some long talks…it was great!!!

This was just the first few hours…bet you can’t wait for the next installment, huh??? :)

12 Hours till Takeoff

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Something Ghana Ry

2012-02-05 04:36:50

It’s been difficult saying goodbyes over the past few days, but it has made me realize that I have a lot people in my life that care and I’m going to miss you all! Thanks to everyone who took me out to lunch, dinner, for drinks, etc. My flight leaves for Philadelphia at 8:30 am. [...]

The Things You Miss Out On When You're Sick

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Oh My Ghana!

2012-02-05 03:27:00

So....I'm sick with a nasty little cold. Which considering how much I love TV, movies and books, usually wouldn't be a problem. BUT....there are things I wanted to do this weekend! My friend, Bora, is hosting a Korean Barbecue....right now!!!! However, I'm at home, blogging and watching "Grease". This really bums me out because when else in my life am I going to be presented with Korean food prepared by a Korean person! Probably never! Additionally, tomorrow is Superbowl Sunday; I haven't missed a Superbowl party since...ever! Unfortunately for me, I really believe that sick people should stay home and avoid infecting everyone else. BOO!

On a better note, I ordered a pretty sweet travel pack, and I picked it up for a pretty sweet price, too.

Oh....and, I'm going to be house sitting for a friend for the next couple months. This is awesome because in exchange for keeping the house warm and showing the dogs some love, I am officially done paying rent!

As for the bucket list, I'll be headed to NYC to visit my friend, Anna this week. I'm definitely planning on visiting The Met, The Guggenheim, The Empire State Building, Central Park Zoo, Shake Shack, Gray's Papaya, Grand Central, Time Square, and a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. If anyone has any suggestions, please please please.....share!

Stay posted for pics of the trip!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Follow Your Molly

2012-02-04 11:27:00

There are still many things I don’t understand about Ghanaian culture and customs. I’m not sure I ever will. I can really only ask questions and try and grasp what is being told to me in broken English, and every now and then I can try to search things on the internet… but that is far and few between.

My latest quest to understand is Taboo, Juju and Fetish Priests, and the spirits that are connected with them.

Taboo is things that are forbidden… this changes form tribe to tribe and village to village. Some villages have a day of the week that is taboo to farm on, or having a dog is sometimes considered taboo. In Kute-Buem fetching water with a black bowel was once considered taboo, as well a using any sort of black bowel to carry anything. Fridays washing clothing in the river was also once taboo. It was said that if you wash your clothing on a Friday and fall in the river a snack would come a kill you. I was told that these taboos have been lifted because the Buem tribe no longer solely occupies Kute, but rather it has become a transitional town.

To my understanding in Ghanaian Culture a Fetish Priest is a man who has certain powers to harm people that have committed a crime, or done something wrong. The Fetish Priest has the power to cast bad juju upon someone. This can only happen when someone who has had the wrong done unto him goes to the Fetish Priest and the Fetish Priest calls upon the spirits to cast the bad juju.

The three stories I’ve heard where someone went to a Fetish Priest because of what was done to him all resulted in death for the other party involved, usually resulting in more than one casualty. The three stories are as follows (please remember that I still don’t fully understand, and all this has come to me second hand and through broken english)…

Story No. 1…

Some man (we’ll call him Fred) lost a large some of cash. The cash supposedly fell out of his pocked as he was getting on a tro tro in his village. Once Fred realized that he had lost the money he went back to his village to look for it, but to no avail. Since his village was rather small he was able to make an announcement about the loss of a large some of money asking that whoever found the money give it back because it belonged to Fred. But no one stepped forward claiming that they found the money. Fred waited several days and repeatedly asked if anyone had found then money. He finally said that he would go see the Fetish Priest because “someone” stole his money.

Meanwhile another man (we’ll call him Joe) found the money. He was rather pleased with himself… having had to do nothing but be in the right place at the right time to get the money. He never said anything to his wife, but rather went to purchase a few things with the money.

Fred went to the Fetish Priest and told the story and how no one had stepped forward claiming they found the money. The Priest mad an announcement that if the person who found the money didn’t turn the money back over in a few days time he and his entire family would die. The Fetish Priest rang the gong, cast the bad juju and the days started their count.

Joe didn’t turn the money over. He wanted it for himself, and after buying a few things he didn’t have it anymore. So on the fourth day Joe, his wife and children died.

(Yes this seriously did happen, not in my village but in another volunteer’s… no autopsies were given, but rather it’s said that the spirits killed Joe and his family for stealing the money.)

Story No.2

A chainsaw operator (yes that is a profession in Ghana… even if it is illegal to cut trees down) was sawing down some trees and apparently cut down one on someone’s land. The landowner (let’s call him Kofi) was furious. Kofi, wanted that tree there, it provided shade and if times got rough then he could cut it down himself and sell the wood (there is a lot of money in cutting down trees to make boards.) The chainsaw operator (we’ll call him Edem) probably knew what he was doing, cutting down a tree on someone else’s land and keeping all the money he received for himself. As they saw in Ghana, shame, shame.

Well shame was cast upon Edem and his family. Kofi was mad; he wanted the money from that tree. He demanded that Edem pay the money, but Edem was taking his sweet ol’ time getting the money back. Just as Edem was arranging to send the money back to Kofi, Kofi went to the Fetish Priest, the gong was rung and the bad juju went out. With in a matter of days, the brother from Edem died because he was the one who was suppose to hand the money over to Kofi once Edem sent it, then three days later Edem died. And to top it off the person whom Edem gave the money to, to give to his brother also died (the money was coming from Accra to the village, and because money isn’t really transferred through banks here its sent through people).

(Again another true story… and this is how my landlady became a widower.)

Story No. 3

This time it’s a lady, Afia, who was married to a man, Elom. Afia wanted a divorce, said she was through, and walked out, but left her things behind. Elom, furious went to the Fetish Priest for the bad juju to be cast.

The Priest spread the juju saying that Afia would die in a matter of days after “sleeping” with another man.

I saw her on Tuesday (yes, someone pointed her out to me) walking with a “new guy” looking strong and healthy; and on Friday she died (the same person came to me in shock on Friday to tell me how the spirits killed her because she wanted to divorce her husband).

All three of these cases are mysterious to me. Why not just do an autopsy, test the blood to see if there was poison, or if it was some other illness that caused the death. But as my tailor was telling me about it she just kept saying it’s the power of the African Spirit.

Random post

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Peace(corp)ing out

2012-02-04 11:20:00

I saw something funny the other day. My 3 house sisters all decided to have a group pee. Urinating (nobody here says “peeing”) is totally no big deal here. They all went into the bathing area of the house and urinated all around the hole that leads outside the compound. It was pretty funny when the realization dawned on me what had just happened. In general going to the bathroom here is no big deal. I’ll be going to fetch some water and somebody in the group will just say they have to “go to the toilet” and wander 10 feet into the bush and go about their business. Sometimes one of the girls will try to make a point that we can still see the person’s outline (if they haven’t gone in far enough) and then everybody will laugh.

Now the music everybody here has been listening to! It is all moving music man. These songs are all the rage here and I have to say, I like them. If you got some time to burn and you want to listen to some Ghanian music then click away!

Azonto -Azonto is probably the biggest (or was the biggest) hit in Ghana. It was on the local news for the craze it was starting haha. Since I don't really know how to dance you can imagine how much laughing actually happens when I try to move to Azonto.

I love my Life - I mean this song is what every life lover (and one in particular) will love.

Yesi Yesi- I don't actually know what this song is about but the tune is just catchy man.

There are more songs but I realized searching up songs when the title is in a different language which I can't spell, is hard. So I hope you enjoy these 3 songs.

No Rain Does NOT Equal No Food

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Conscious American

2012-02-03 10:00:00

Recently I have come back from a dry season gardening IST in Tumu. In the north of Ghana we go most of the year with zero rainfall aka dry season. This current dry season, which is just beginning, has been predicted to be very harsh. The nutrition in Jeyiri is poor all year round. Imagine what it is like with no vegetables and fruit that you can afford. Food security is an area that PCVs, like myself, are trying to improve.

Plan Ghana has constructed dams all over the north to increase the possibility for dry season gardening; however, the dams are under utilized. The system we installed was a gravity fed drip irrigation system, which uses water from the dam. No pump or electrical equipment is needed to run the system. Also a drip system uses the water the most conservatively.

I had a wonderful time out on the land getting the land ready for planting. The future may hold a place for a similar but smaller system at my school. Enjoy the pictures!

David the PCV organizer and leader

A dry season garden already growing beautifully

Our drip lines (600 meters total)

Our water source

Watering Hole

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana From what I can see

2012-02-03 09:11:00

As of right now there is no running water at my house but I’m better off than most because its coming… like in 10 years… but this means I carry my own water from the bore hole down the hill from my house. Its not too far but by the time I get back to the house I’m usually pretty wet. Fetching water is fun and frustrating at the same time. I still do not understand nor speak much Krobo so the when the kids go wild because im down there its hard to know what’s going on, actually it’s the teenagers that worry me the most. Kids usually just want to get some sort of reaction out of me but teenagers will talk about you to each other. The fact that I am white, new, a girl, does have its advantages because I usually do not have to wait long until my bucket is filled. One of the kids pumping calls for my bucket right away even though I just arrived and there are lots of kids ahead of me. Because of this I can make three trips in 30 min when it takes them at least 30 minutes just for one trip. There are times when me being priority does not fly with some of the kids but I don’t have any control of the situation so they just make a fit for a minute or two then fill my bucket and I get out of there!

Going to fetch water is an extremely social activity. After a long day or a day of doing nothing its nice to get a bucket or two because I get a chance to observe the kids in the neighborhood interacting. Usually they run around chasing each other or get in little fights but it ends up in laughter most the time. Just by going down there I’m a source of entertainment, now that they know my name all of them say it for the sake of saying my name. I also get a chance to talk to some of the 20 some year old people down there which usually means I try to explain where I’m living that Ill be here for 2 years and then they ask me for something, the guys like to ask for my watch, oh and I had a lady ask for my hair the other day. She told me “I like you hair, you give it to me” I tried to explain that it grows out of my head and is not a weave but either she didn’t get it or wanted me to cut it off and give it to her. In those situations im happy that my bucket gets filled quickly so I don’t have to stand there awkwardly for too long.

After two or three trips back and forth I’m usually a little tired and my water bucket is nearly full. I am socially satisfied for the day with weird confrontations and I feel just a little more apart of the community knowing that they know I have to fetch water just like them. I still need to practice not spilling so much when I walk home because my clothes get wet but also I think they make fun of me a little but mostly they are just amazed that I fetch water. Covered in dirt from my splashes and trying not to trip on goats, goat poo, and rocks I take a bucket bath with my new water and call it a day.

Obruni

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Adventures

2012-02-03 06:42:15

My town thinks I am a white celebrity. EVERYONE yells Obruni at me. The babies, the kids, the old folks, the people my age. They are all calling obruni in the hopes I will look at them and grace them … Continue reading →

I think I begin to understand...and I DO NOT LIKE IT AT ALL!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana RWK's Amazing Adventure Part 10

2012-01-31 16:43:00

My last post was six weeks ago when I was raging about local politics....but i didn't know the half of it then ...probably not even the quarter of it. The 'system' here is patronage..and at the rural level, it is dispensed by chiefs.

Almost every piece of contracted 'business' that is transacted locally..be it an agreement to build walls, or permission to put up a wayside food stand, or (let's say) an NGO hiring a local person to work in the new Community Library, or the 'fees' charged for operating a little stall in the Anloga marketplace is a 'transaction' that, as a matter of course, goes through one of the local chiefs. They decide who gets hired and who gets black-balled (a meritocracy it isn't). They decide who can set up a business and who can't.

It's a very old-fashioned system and before colonialism and before independence it was the way it had always operated-tribalism. In Ghana/The Gold Coast, the colonial system and the tribal system co-existed side-by side and the colonial system really only operated at the high end and the tribal system continued as before..with only the occasional war between the two groups. Unlike colonies in East Africa or South Africa where large chunks of land were given over to white farmers the tribal system controlled the lands all along.

After Independence, in 1957, Ghana tried to impose a few different systems..progressive nationalism, socialism, maybe even extreme socialism, and now what would we call it ... a vaguely Western-style democracy..with reasonably fair multi-party elections, a powerful presidency but no presidents-for-life, an executive, a legislative and a judicial branch and a 'market economy'..if one is being reasonably generous. But the tribal system still operates underneath that because the reach of the government and the civil service doesn't really extend to a community or an area like ours...some government monies are spent here but not much. There is very little evidence of government here in Whuti apart from its single Primary School run by the Ghana Education Service. There is no Health Service here (and no doctors), no Post Office or Police presence ..hell, the district capital even ordered that our speed bumps be removed as unauthorised .

In return, of course, the community pays no taxes..there are no property taxes; i would be very, very, very surprised if there is a single Personal Income Tax payer residing in Whuti ;and i would be equally surprised if there is any business in Whuti paying Business Taxes.

In other words, the government barely exists at this level.

So back to patronage and the tribal system of disbursing it...how does that affect me, why do i care?

i want to get this right and i want to get this said clearly..and it hasn't been easy for me to see the Library's future through the mists.

So maybe, first a few facts.

The Library (and the Computer Centre) is wholly funded and always has been, by a small, committed NGO in the US which has operated in Ghana for fifteen years and this could be called Act III..the Last Hurrah. Indeed Acts I and II (set in other parts of Ghana) are over and did not end well. Because of the NGO's founder's age and other concerns, this work is likely to be ALAD's final effort. (ALAD = African Literacy, Arts & Develop)ment Association

The Library has been operating successfully on a daily basis since 22 September 2010 i.e. 16+ months ago. And the Computer Centre has been operating on a daily basis as a revenue-generating internet cafe since 15 November 2011 (Thomas' 10th birthday). Less than three months and the revenues are very small because we have no high-speed connection and because there isn't a lot of disposable income round here. But it might get better.

Notwithstanding the fact that we have been operating the Library for 16 months..with as many as 500+ users a week...it will be officially opened on 21/22 July 2012 with a ribbon-cutting and speeches, and dancing and drumming, etc. It will be a fine occasion with (hopefully) lots of dignitaries, including ALAD's founder.

It costs between $450 and $600 a month to operate the Library and Computer Centre. The founder has committed to funding the Library's operations through at least the end of 2012 and possibly into 2013, but he has a declared intent to step down as ALAD's president in mid-2013.

And then what happens?

There is neither a plan nor a probability.

The community's (or ALAD's in a death spiral) have no ability to come up with a deep-pocketed external funding source to the tune of a committed $7000+ per year.

Only a resourceful, enterprising, imaginative, concerned (Ghanaian) organisation could possibly do that. and if such does not exist then the Library is on a downhill slide.

It is possible to conceive of such a (Ghanaian) organisation with the Whuti-Srogboe or Srogboe-Whuti diaspora ..and certainly Dr Sam's wonderful work in nearby Atorkor say it is doable.

But...try to superimpose that on Whuti and the chiefs and elders of Whuti and it just doesn't work.

They are intellectually dull, they are poorly educated, they are committed to the old ways, and they do NOT care about the children which is surely why we're doing the Library.

The PCV has been lucky. He has got things going..and, believe me, 500+ Library visitors for a community library in Ghana is HUGE! And computers too, for children who've never seen them.

But..to recap, the Opening Ceremony is in July 2012, which, not coincidentally is my COS date, and the founder will be here to discuss the future...knowing that he and ALAD will not fund the Libray much longer..
..and knowing that it will take a Mighty Heart to come up with the 'deal' that will ensure the Library's future.
In fact, there is no such deal.

And we are foooling ourselves to think that the local chiefs and elders will ever come up with the money to run the Library.

So whatever is said, there is a time-limit on business as usual at the Library.
How long? six months to eighteen months is my guess.

And disintegration of 'business as usual' is not an overnight thing..it happens gradually, day-by-day, week-by-week.
What does that mean in the Library...well, books go missing, the place gets messier, salaries/wages don't get paid, computers go walk-about.

This is the future..this i know. And so, the only question is how long i stick around to watch this.

The counter-balance is that on a day-to-day basis i am helping children.

It will become more and more difficult after the end of this school year in early July. Diminishing returns. Probably impossible.

I don't want to leave..how can i stay, how long can i stay?

Just some words

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Peripatetic Journal

2012-02-02 17:44:00

In the wake of Mike Kelley’s death (my former employer and an important artist within Los Angeles and internationally), I feel compelled to write a brief reflection, not about the life of Mike Kelley, but about the importance of art, and if it has importance at all. Every artist, myself included, comes to a moment in our careers, or many moments, when we question the value of our own art, the art world, and/or art in general.

Backtracking to my life in LA...

I was so sick of the ‘art scene.’ I was bored with standing outside of galleries in Chinatown on a Saturday night and drinking Tecate in my skinny jeans. I was tired of making art in a vacuum, sitting alone, staring at the walls of my studio, finishing drawings only to roll them up and stick them in the closet. I wasn’t convinced that I was contributing to the world in a meaningful way, particularly since few people ever got to see my work publically. I felt like I had more to offer, more brain capacity to stimulate, and that I was at a career dead-end. But I had already come so far down that road and invested so much of my life into art, that I didn’t know how to reinvent myself. It's possible that among many other things, Mike Kelley was questioning the value of making art and the value of his own art, when he took his own life. For artists, the success of our art careers, the productivity in our studios or lack thereof, is so intertwined with our self-worth that we sometimes feel that we are suffocating from the pressure, we become disillusioned and cynical.

I made a choice. I took a tangent to find a way back to a life that had meaning for me…and I joined the Peace Corps and came to Ghana. I can tell you now, without any doubt, that if anything in this world has meaning, art making has meaning; it is important. My students here spend the majority of their days copying complex notes from the blackboard into their assignment books, without ever understanding what they are copying. They have gone the majority of their young lives not communicating with anyone in their families because they are deaf and cannot hear what is being said. They grow up resigned to days filled with manual labor, and when finally sent to school they are expected to fail academically.

When I open the door to my classroom, my students come running, joyfully screaming to make art. I pull out paper and pencils or fabric and scissors, and we make things, and they no longer have a disability, or at least not one that matters---in my classroom they find their confidence because anything visual and hands-on is a real strength of theirs. It is a thrill for me to use my visual skills in way that my MFA degree perhaps never envisioned or intended.

When I used to walk into white-walled galleries in America and see the same neutered, over-cooked product hanging in a 24x36 inch frame, or an aluminum can on its side on top of several stacked pieces of plywood next to some blobs of expanding foam, I really wondered whether art had meaning, whether I gave a damn. But, ya know, it’s not about that gallery--well, it can be about the gallery, because art can be meaningful to those who view it and experience it…but most importantly, art has meaning for the maker, and it is in the making itself where value is found. In Ghana, it’s hard to compete with soccer (it’s big here), but I would argue that art class is the highlight of my students’ lives. It may seem an exaggeration, but they love it. Really. And I feel lucky, honored, to be able to open that classroom door everyday and give it to them.

Many of us lose touch with the value of making as we become adults and professionals because the pressure to sell, to support oneself and family financially, is unavoidable. But I have to thank my students who have reminded me of the power of…folded paper to make a bird. I spent an entire morning recently ‘helping’ make 50 origami birds---the kids crowded around me as I made each fold in the complicated process, and not one single student was going to let me leave until they had a finished “flapping bird” in their hands.

In other news:

--I’ve started working one-on-one with some of the mentally disabled students because I can’t give them the in-class attention that they need when I have 24 other students who also need help. I had been planning to do this for a while, but I’m not currently an expert in how an autistic student might best learn, or what they need from me, but I had a ‘stars-aligning’ moment that pushed me into action. Usually, in class I have 4 students tugging on my arms at all times—I’m dripping sweat (literally) and walking from student to student helping each one. And it’s the students who really can’t do it on their own without me who get left behind, staring forlornly at their mangled yarn weaving. But for one glorious moment, no one was tugging at my arm and I was able to help Basheru, inch by inch. I lifted each strand of vertical yard and he fed the horizontal yarn underneath each one, becoming increasingly confident with how his hands held the yarn and pulled it through on the other side. I had chills during this experience. He turned to the other students and signed, “See, I understand, I understand!”, with a big smile on his face. He’s usually so beaten down by the other students and teachers that I only see him whining gloomily around campus, but on this particular day he was very proud of his weaving. That is the sort of attention that Basheru requires, and which is almost impossible here because every teacher has 20-25 students. So, I’m trying to meet with some of the autistic kids a couple nights a week and work with them on simple projects, like the alphabet or numbers or art.

--One of the teachers told me that his ‘professor’ in college told him that he should only work at the deaf schools for a few years because ‘the students can’t learn.’ He’s looking to move to the hearing schools.

--Evidently the attendance posters I made for each class (I give a star to each student for arriving on time) were a big hit at a Ghana-wide education conference. Representatives from the Ghana Education Service had come to my classroom a month ago and photographed themselves standing in front of the posters, and I guess those photos were presented at the conference. Now I’ve been asked to demonstrate to my fellow teachers how to make them. Maybe there’s hope for systemic change after all.

--On a particularly low note, my working relationship with the Japanese ICT volunteer at my school just completely deteriorated, plummeted, and sank. I will say that blame can be placed on both sides, and in the future when I mean ‘no,’ I will definitely say ‘no’ upfront. When Daigo arrived in November he asked me if he could do an ICT project in my ‘class,’ by which he meant that he wanted to use my classroom. Okay, no problem. Oh, you need cardboard? Here’s some. You need to store it in my storage room? Okay. Then I noticed that glue was missing and a pair of scissors was broken, and other supplies had been used. He hadn’t asked, and I can tell you that ALL of the supplies in the closet were either bought by me or donated by someone who I solicited. I kept quiet. Then this term rolls around, and he asks if he can do another project in my room, and if he can keep his paper in my storage room. Okay. He comes in (repeatedly) when I’m teaching and asks me when I will be leaving the room. He asks if he can use the room in between my two classes—I have to sit outside. Okay. Then I notice that he is using my precious few markers for his ICT project---without asking. I arrive to find half the caps off of the markers and at least a dozen brand-new markers totally used up. I tell him, “Please, don’t use those markers--I was saving them for a special project with the JHS students.” In fact, I have a big sign on the cabinet door that says, “Please don’t take supplies from this cabinet. They are for art class, and many of them have been sent from America by my friends and family.” I thought that was making it pretty clear, but evidently I needed to be explicit. I also noticed that students were allowed in and out of the storage room (which is off limits) while I wasn’t around. Then, Daigo also wanted to be using pencils, rulers, sharpeners, and erasers, and taking them to another classroom while I was trying to teach using the same supplies. I told him, ‘The headmistress has pencils and rulers. You really need to get your own supplies. This closet is not a store.” But evidently I should have just said “No.” “No,” on the very first day, unequivocally. But, instead, being the passive-aggressive sort of person, I finally just locked the cabinet with a big extendable combination lock I had brought from home. A few minutes later, Daigo came storming over to my house, guns blazing, and asked for the combo. “No,” I said, “I put that lock on it so that you wouldn’t continue to use the supplies.” That comment led to Daigo completely blowing up, screaming at me outside my house, saying that I was a liar and a bad person. Eventually, he calmed down, and I explained how hard I had worked to piece together an art program with supplies, and that I have meticulously planned projects for all of the supplies that I have gathered, and that all I ask is to be able to control and be accountable for what happens in the art classroom and storage room. I told him that the art room is my world and my passion. I told him that if he asks for something once, it’s okay, but if he asks 10 times or he doesn’t ask at all, it’s no longer alright. Subsequently, whether he thinks I’m a control freak nutcase or whatever, he has retreated and even apologized. I have to say this was the low-point of my PC experience thus far, and I’m just shocked it happened with another foreigner. I think I can confidently say I’ve reawakened dormant WWII tensions. I think I’m going to have to start complimenting Daigo on his country’s automobile engineering prowess if I want to prevent WWIII.

Me with the Zosali chief, a man who has led a fascinating life, speaks great english, and now sits in a comfortable chair underneath a big tree, surrounded by dozens of local children.

Mom and Dad in Ghana

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Dude, let's go!

2012-02-02 11:53:00

Beach at Elmina

Our hut at Elmina.

Dad in his net. There was no fan, it was hot; it got a little rocky for a while.

Boats at Elmina Harbor

Elmina

Market and harbor at Elmina; dad hates shopping in Ghana even more than the U.S. :)

Our composting toilet at Elmina...they were not impressed.

Last morning sunrise at Elmina.

On the road...exhaust ...

on the road

scenes from the road

Kente weaving village near Kumasi

I took this picture of dad because he looked so unhappy with the guy bothering him about buying kente. They both caught me taking the picture and this is what I ended up with...looks like a nice moment,eh?

Their first FanIce's.

The fancy hotel room with AC and hot water they sprang for after I made them crap in hole and no fan for 3 nights.

Old mosque outside of Bole.

Fantastic tree.

Elephants!

Elephant drinking water. We were 10 feet from this guy. The sounds he made sucking up the water were really funny.

Same guy.

I rode on top the jeep on the safaris. Between the dust and the tsetse flies my photos came out kinda funky.

Safariing; and mom's pineapple head :)

Cards!

This is us with our driver, Ben, who was awesome.

Dad as a red head after we drove on dirt roads all day.

Road scenes

I love Baobab trees!

Mom and dad with Ben at my house.

Mom doing her wash.

Dad and his drawers

Chief brought us palm wine.

Mom was not a fan.

Walking up the road in my village to the Welcome Ceremony for mom and dad.

Us with the chief and some village elders (and others)

Pouring of libations for mom and dad.

Dancing...even dad tried :)

Me introducing mom and dad to the village.

The Queen MOther's linguist presenting dad with a chief's smock.

The village ladies dressing mom in her dress.

Dad thanking the village.

Kids in my village doing cultural dance for mom and dad.

Us at Elmina Slave Castle.

Me getting my braids taken out at the beach. Dad told me they smelled (and they did).

Mom stamping adinkra symbols near Kumasi.

Mom and dad at Wli Waterfalls

Mom and dad with my Chief.

Mom pounding fufu with Francis

Mom and dad eating fufu and light soup.

Random Stories from the WoW

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Adventures

2012-02-01 06:40:49

I have a small problem here in Ghana. I sleep facebook. Every night around midnight or 2am, I wake up for some reason or another. It either happens in one of two ways. I completely wake up and I am … Continue reading →

Nyiraga Volunteer Fire Dept.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Barbara's PC Adventures

2012-01-31 20:40:00

I was walking this morning when I saw this fire. I knew it was near the school so I found a trial heading that way.

When I came up the children were all outside beating the fire with branches, and the girls were bringing large pans

full of water putting it out.

I pulled this in and I hope you can see all the children working.

See the water being poured on the fire.

Here comes more water. You might ask where are the teachers? The two I saw were on the porch watching the action.

As I walked away and spoke with the teachers I thought about how different it would have been at a school in American. Always something to see when I walk and visit with neighbors.

One Week!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Peace Corps - Ghana

2012-01-31 05:39:03

One week from today I meet the other Health: Water and Sanitation Peace Corps Trainees. We spend the night in historic Philadelphia – perhaps getting a chance to see Constitution Hall the Liberty Bell – before heading to Africa. We … Continue reading →

Link to Ghana

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Peace Corps - Ghana

2012-01-31 05:57:46

Anthony Bourdain’s travel show No Reservations provides a great introduction to the culture – and especially the food – of different areas of the world. Paul, one of my future Peace Corps training partners, found a link to the No … Continue reading →

Pre-departure Bucket List

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Oh My Ghana!

2012-01-31 03:05:00

Peace Corps is one of the many things on my bucket list and I am so excited to be able to finally cross one off! However, I also have an extensive list of things I absolutely have to do before I leave the states. In addition to spending tons of of time with my family and friends, my list includes:

Austin City Limits Music Festival (ACL) -- done
Austin, Texas (in general)
The Lake House
Bourbon Street
Houston Area Things
Dinner at Brennan's
Galveston, Texas
The Zoo
MFAH -- done
The Menil
The Museum of Natural Sciences
Bayou Gardens
Houston Rodeo (& Cook-off)
Crawfish Festival
New York City
Central Park Zoo
Guggenheim
The Met
Bodies
MOMA
Empire State Building
Sushi and Pizza that are actually good

Because I'm such an amazing planner, I did attend ACL last year and it was amazing! My girlfriend, Deirdre and I loaded up the car and headed to Georgetown where we stayed with her sister-in-law. For the next three days, we made the trek into Austin, spent the whole day in the sun with outstanding music, and spent the evenings soaking up good ol' hippie Austin culture. I'm bummed that I won't be able to make it this year, but there's always 2015!!!

Yesterday, with my friends, Dawn and Matt, I visited the MFAH for the King Tut exhibit. If you have the opportunity to see this, I definitely recommend it! I've been to so many exhibits where I've walked out disappointed, but this one really rocked it. There were statues of several Egyptian pharaohs and other figureheads such as Ahkenaten, Ramesess the Great, Kafre, and Hatshepsut. In addition, there were some amazing things from the tomb such as gold sandals, a bed (that was so small and seemed terribly uncomfortable), a gold canopic coffinette (that actually held his stomach), a sarcophagus of a royal cat, and a model boat (that supposedly could carry him across the river to the afterlife). There was this awesome 17 foot statue of Tut that really brought to life the majestic nature of the era. Additionally, there was a small sarcophagus that had originally contained two fetuses. The neatest was there were 43 shabtis (slave statues) found in the tomb that apparently would come to life and serve the pharaoh in the afterlife.

Once we finished with the Tut exhibit, we moved on to a newly constructed Asian exhibit with pieces from Indonesia, Korea, China and India. this was awesome!!!! I have this fascination with Indian deities so it was super neat to get to really examine them up close. There was even a small section on African art with some pieces from Ghana. Most of the pieces from Africa and Asia (minus India) were jewelry and headpieces made of hammered out gold. It's amazing how gold was such a commonly used material that is now so rare and expensive. After yesterday, I really hope that I'll have the ability to travel to Egypt to visit Cairo, Luxor, The Valley of The Kings and as many other sights as I can squeeze in!

So....While I work on knocking out my pre-departure bucket list, I leave you with these two questions:
1) If you could visit any place in the world, where would you go?
2) If you were leaving the US for over 2 years, where in the US would you
have to visit before you left?

Playing with kids at Bore Hole

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Barbara's PC Adventures

2012-01-30 19:17:00

It was so hot this afternoon I did things inside and read a lot. About 4:30 I decided I had to get out so I went out and realized the “neighborhood” was outside by the borehole getting ready to do the wash. The little girl Brenda that

is so afraid of me was carrying a little can (that hot chocolate comes in) on her head. When I spoke to her she stopped and pulled her panties out of the can. She was going to wash also.Here are the

small girls, Brenda and her cousin washing their clothes under the tree. They are taught very young to start the wash.

She was standing like the big girls when I took the original picture but when I asked her to look at me she sat back down. She does not have any panties on so I am guessing the three pair she had in her can was all her panties.

Lambert the young man that helps me with Fra Fra and Amena who lives with me were together so Amena’s mother could cook dinner. She understands the camera now so he is holding her arm so she can not touch. I think they are cousins.

Here is a small girl carrying a bucket of water this is her second that I saw her carry. She is young but she is also doing the washing and showing me how it should go then has to stop to carry water I am assuming for her Mother but I am not sure. Anyone can be asked to do these chores and they do not argue they just do it.

As Brenda’s mother pumps she has Brenda’s little brother on her back. The brother likes me also notice he is smiling at me as I take his picture.

It has really gotten hot in the afternoons and they tell me this is nothing. I maybe in trouble. The other day I brought my washing out so I could play in the water. Today under the shade tree it

was very pleasant. Maybe spending lots of time under the tree.

Amena and I played this morning and she discovered my skin up close. She sort of picked my chest and arm and decided it was okay and forgot about it. Pretty funny. I taught her to shoo away the goat and birds. So I guess it was a good day in Ghana.

My super productive day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Adventures

2012-01-30 16:33:47

My day started at the bank where I got really pissed for waiting and waiting just to find out I didn’t get paid yet. Left the bank and called Cara crying because I don’t have enough money to eat and … Continue reading →

Observations of a Girl: On Being an Inspiration

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Who's that Girl?

2012-01-30 11:50:00

Anyone who talks to me knows that while I constantly observe and appreciate my life's relative coolness, I consider it to be pretty normal. I know; I know it sounds contradictory, but it's true. My 'Holy crap I'm in Africa' moments exist within a constant state of actually living in Africa. It is for this reason that my blogs grow scarce (and my pictures rank lower in total number than my dad's did in a 10 day trip); I generally feel I haven't got much to say because this life has become my 'mean.'

Sometimes, though, I'm given the chance to see my life through someone else's eyes (something usually accompanied by compliments and praise, the likes of which make me blush like a rose in the spring) and it dawns on me that, like other Peace Corps volunteers were for me, I'm a kind of role model now.

I had the opportunity about two weeks ago to dine with some awesome, inspiring people; people making a living doing everything I'm interested in (One Campaign employees, political advisors, political lobbyists and campaign runners, etc.). I mean, I listened to these men and women talk about doing campaign work for people like Reagan and Gore, about their 'leg-up' positions as the personal assistants to famous Senators, about their involvement in very historical moments in Washington. It was fascinating; I could have listened to them talk all night. What I found mind-boggling was that they seemed to feel the same way about me.

As I casually discussed my projects, my daily existence, and my every-day working life, I realized that it was absolutely out of the ordinary for them. They considered it as inspiring and important as I considered their experiences (and let me tell ya: that's a kick in the teeth).

In truth, this happens a lot; I forget that (though coming to Africa was my choice and, therefor, doesn't seem very extraordinary to me) my job, my experiences, and the life I lead aren't considered normal to most people. I'm living 'a life inspired;' a life inspiring.

I couldn't tell you exactly how this feels; like any lightbulb moment, it brightens my surroundings like a sonic boom and then it's gone. I could never claim to be inspiring, either - this whole experience has been one full of gratitude and child-like niavity from the from the start. I'm humbled by my work every day, and am often surprised at my luck in doing exactly what I came here to do. Opening an office or building a borehole is as equally awe-inspiring for me because I recognize the people around me who have created that success. Everything here is like a shot in the dark - one in every six attempts errupts into a sparkle of light, but most of the time I've no idea what I'm doing.

I guess it's because we get dropped here - into jobs we've never experienced, a culture we've never explored, a language we don't know - and everything becomes trial and error; we spend two years of our lives in a perpetual state of free-fall until we're plopped back down into the lives we used to know. It's why this job is so unique, anyone who tells you different isn't telling you the whole truth. It's a part of the appeal and it's a part of the struggle.

To wake up one day and decide to be inspiring is backwards - that's never the order anything in life happens. All I can do is lead a life I'm proud of and, so far, I consider myself pretty lucky in that regard. Maybe I inspire someone to apply for the Peace Corps, maybe I help get someone involved in an NGO or research about certain social and political climates - all of these things are wonderful and humbling, but all I've really done is pass the torch and continued living.

It's a fleeting, beautiful thing, you see; captured in blinding, fuzzy moments that stop time, but it's also a cycle. We each keep on living, doing the things we each find amazing; it's the great thing about life: potential - the power of doing. Maybe I've inspired, but that's not really the point, is it? The point becomes, what will you do with it?

xx

Rabies, In Service Training and more

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana A word carries far: Ryan in Ghana

2012-01-29 19:55:00

My favorite thing about Ghana is waking up every morning not knowing what the day might bring. When you travel this feeling tends to fade over time, as you acclimatize to your new location. Yet thankfully it has remained true, and resulted in very surprising (both good and bad) days.

My most recent example of this took place during our regional meeting two weeks ago. Like all good meetings it took place at a bar, as I firmly believe that a few drinks is the proper way to prepare for any serious, and potentially contentious, discussion. However the bar was home to an angry dog, which took offense to my presence and bit me. The bad news was that I possibly had contracted rabies, the good was that I had earned a free trip to Accra, the capital city! I spent a few days there, enjoying pizza, happy hours at Ryan's Irish Pub and knockoff Lucky Charms for breakfast. After my sojourn in Accra, I headed north to Kumasi, for our official In Service Training.

In Service Training is meant to take place after 3 months at site, to gauge how new volunteers are coping with a radically new environment and to prepare them to begin projects. However due to some scheduling confusion ours took place after almost 5 months at site. It was great to see everyone, and more most people it seemed to be a much needed break. We learned about grants, project planning, and had lengthy sessions on cultural awareness and other gripping topics. But more importantly; our hotel had hot showers, a swimming pool, and air conditioning! And the African Cup of Nations was (and still is) taking place, which was a lot of fun to watch. I don't know if it's being aired in the US, but for more info go to: http://www.cafonline.com/competition/african-cup-of-nations_2012

Now I'm headed back to my village, with an empty wallet and plans for the next 6 months. I'll put up a post later on in the month about some of my project plans! Miss everyone at home as always, but very happy to be exactly where I am.

What it is like to be poor

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Adventures

2012-01-29 16:50:03

So, we haven’t been paid yet and I am struggling. I had 10 cedis Thursday which were supposed to last me until we got paid. I bought two things that were supposed to total 1.60 with the 10. I got … Continue reading →

Passion in Ghana

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Ernest goes to Africa

2012-01-28 19:35:00

The contents of this website are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

Saturday about 7:30 pm, on main street in the village where I live. These residents are not waiting to get into a club, but are watching football (soccer) at a small kiosk that has a TV and sells small house hold items. It is Ghana's second match in the first round of the African Cup. They defeated Botswana last weekend and are playing Mali this evening. The Ghana Black Stars are one of the favorites to win the Cup.

I have not seen or experienced anything else in Ghana that reaches even near the level of passion that football does. Any object that is even a little bit round is quickly turned into the ball by the young children and the match is on. Work stops and a crowd gathers to watch the Primary and Junior High school teams compete.

The school where I teach has a team which is ranked in the upper quarter of the teams in the local league. They practice and sometimes compete on a field that is uneven, half dirt and half grass, full of stones and goat droppings, the school porch sitting on one inbound line, and a old tree stump just to the left of one goal. It is fast, straight ahead and physical. Players must strap everything on tight and bring their "black and blue" game in order to compete. They are "all in" and cannot wait to get the game going. Spectators are no less involved and disputed calls often result in a large number of fans on the pitch pointing fingers, yelling loudly, often not even involving the single referee attempting to control the match. I attended the soccer games my three children played, but they were not even close to this level of intensity.

I am rooting for the Black Stars and it would be a neat experience to celebrate winning the Cup with the Ghanians. The village just erupted in cheers as the Stars scored their second goal in the match.

I will also have the opportunity to be a witness to the election of a President of Ghana this coming December. Listening to the morning talk shows with the other teachers, it seems the campaign has begun and like the campaigns in the USA, will be competitive and full of
passionate debate on the issues.

Interesting times in my village and in the country of Ghana.

White Man’s Soap

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Not all those who wander are lost

2012-01-27 18:52:00

Have you ever been in a room filled with really old books covered in dust & cobwebs, mice, lizards, earwicks (or earwigs? not sure on the spelling), & excretions from all of the above? I have. Remember I mentioned in my last post that I took up the Sisaali book inventory project for SILDEP? Well I thought that the boxes & piles of books in the office & watchman’s room were bad, but that was only the start of it…the worst was yet to come. When Margrit, Jonas (the Swiss carpenter), & I went to SILDEP’s supervisor’s mother-in-law’s house, there was an entire room off of her semi-compound that held all that I mentioned above…including chewed up boxes & books, a bunch of items that the supervisor’s mother-in-law owns that look like they haven’t been touched in years, & the largest sack of shea nuts that I’ve ever seen. So, over the past few days, Jonas & I have become master book counters, cleaners & exterminators. I don’t know how many cans of Raid we went through, but it wasn’t & will still never be enough to kill all of the earwicks that were & still are crawling around in the books & boxes. And throughout the cleaning & exterminating, we’ve been wearing gloves because these earwicks have a pretty nasty pinch. To make matters worse, in the cleaning process Jonas & I had realized that the shea nut bag had a hole at the bottom of it…that would explain why the nuts were hidden in all nooks & crannies of the room – those darn mice. So we brought another bag to pour the shea nuts into but it wasn’t big enough so as of right now, we put half of the shea nuts in the new bag & kept the other half in the big bag with a hole in it - & we were still barely able to drag both of the bags outside.

The poor old supervisor’s mother-in-law just returned home from being in the hospital for some sort of a toothache, so she’s been watching us work all afternoon under the heat of the sun day in & day out, & I think she gets tired by just watching us work. On the first day that Jonas & I began working at her place, a little boy related to her kept trying to steal my pen that I was using to write down how many books there were, so the next day Jonas gave him one of his pens…which might or might not have been a bad idea because the first thing the little boy went to write on were the books that we were counting. Anyway, Jonas & I haven’t seen the boy in a few days, but the supervisor’s mother-in-law just told us (she’s pretty fluent in English) that the little boy had asked her what type of soap we (Jonas & I) use. She thought this was a strange question to ask, so she asked the boy why he was asking such a silly question. So apparently the boy excitingly replied to her in Sisaali, “I want to use the same soap that the white people use so I can be white like them!” As the woman told this story to Jonas & I, the three of us began laughing hysterically. Oh children really say the funniest things, but it’s an interesting idea though. Imagine if soap could magically change your skin color…I wonder if there would be more or less racism in the world if changing your skin color were that easy.

As for other news, SILDEP is busy preparing for the Peace Corps Dry Season Farming IST (In-Service Training) this weekend. My job? Making more berry & papaya jam by picking the fruits from the garden & mashing them together, & baking brownies & a mock apple pie (using green papaya instead). Living at SILDEP with a full kitchen is awesome. I’ve also been helping the day watchman to water the garden once in a while so I’m getting a few pointers on gardening from him. And of course there’s always helping Lydia with her moringa. This time she was crushing the outside shell from the moringa seeds so that the seeds could be weighed & packaged to sell at the guesthouse, so I was showing her how to use the scale to weigh them. It doesn’t help that she forgets what numbers are greater or lesser than other numbers, but she gets to the correct number on the scale eventually…so in the end, she’s teaching herself, which is exactly what I had planned. Moreover, I have been working on updating SILDEP guesthouse’s brochure because the Burkina Faso border patrol passes it out to people driving into Ghana & since they ran out of brochures to hand out, they need more - & preferably updated ones. And this morning I just went to a Naming Ceremony, which is a ceremony in Ghana that happens 1 week after a baby is born & it is the only time that the baby’s name is announced to everyone. A traditional Naming Ceremony would have had a lot of dancing & drops of water (& alcohol apparently) put on the baby’s tongue, but this was a Christian Naming Ceremony so we just did a lot of singing & praying before the name, Jane, was announced for the adorable baby girl wrapped in a blanket in her mother’s arms. What can I say? I keep busy.

Love, as always, Rachel

PS- Thanks to my family back home for keeping me updated with sports as the days to the Super Bowl draw nearer…GO GIANTS!

The blurred scroll evokes nothing.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ghana Caroline's Castle

2012-01-27 18:37:11

We have less physical metaphors for cherishing, and destroying, our memories. The tear-stained letter smelling faintly of her perfume; the crumpled photograph at the bottom of the drawer, his face burned out with a cigarette; the note of encouragement, creased from being carried in your pocket as a good luck token, deliberately lost in desktop clutter such that it will be found again, at random, or perhaps, exactly when it is needed.

Once, I dated online, and such was the need for a sense of connection to my physical reality, that I would put on the same scented lip-gloss, play the same album, even wear the same straw hat, just for a sense of presence.

Once, I dated by cell phone, and would lay on my bed with my phone clutched to my chest, dreamily playing the text-message sound. When my phone died and all our text messages were lost, what evidence existed to stand testament, to prove the reality of what we had shared?

We have spent thousands of years learning how to preserve our paper records, and many tragedies occurred before we learned about multiple-copies, acid-free paper, fire-proof boxes, foreign translations; we've tried vellum, and stone, and ritual memorization. So it's no surprise that our digital data will take some time to perfect from obliteration.

I recently copied the contents of my old floppy disk backups onto my external hard drive backup. I found emails that only survived by the grace of not being paper. But I could only read a few of the unsorted thousands before it felt the easy preservation was more of a burden than a pleasure. Events of my past I'd prefer to view through a blur of romantic nostalgia were less enjoyable seen with perfect and unforgiving clarity. Some of the emails were from an ex, and I found that the satisfaction of burning a letter is much more resonant than the dullness of 'deleting'. Even now I have the lingering unease of my multiple, identical backup copies scattered through the years on CDs, hard drives, and cloud. I am doomed to find, and delete, the same emotional booby-traps for years to come. I only have to rip up a paper letter once. Do we want to keep everything, if it means we will never lose anything?

I've attended events where the inevitable digital photo slideshow in the after-party will run longer than had the event itself. I've missed spectacular sights because I was searching for my camera to preserve what I could have just enjoyed. If I was forced to be more selective about which mementos to keep, I could shape a narrative of my life, honor memories by investing time, energy, and money in their presentation. I suspect this is much of the allure of scrapbooking.

When data is both proliferated and obliterated so easily, what role of privacy? I struggle to understand discretion possible only by being too obscure for my leaked data to draw attention, yet what if I become famous, or infamous? What a boon to paparazzi, to bereaved, to law enforcement, to biographers!

I doubt the paper letter will ever entirely fade away, as it has a weight of emotional significance unrivaled by email. Without a backup or backspace, I have to be deliberate in my words and promises. Writing a letter is faith that I'll hold the same ideas and feelings from when it is written to the future when it's delivered; it becomes an artifact of shared time. Most of all, I find comfort knowing the paper I hold in my hands, will later be held in the hands of someone I love.

Inspired by: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/29/magazine/what-happens-when-data-disappears.html