Well, I’ve been back in the States for over a week and things have basically resumed to business as usual. I’d like to thank everyone who read the blog again for all of your awesome support!
This last entry is for all future travelers interested in voyaging to Ghana on a similar adventure. What follows is a not even close to complete list of things to bring or consider before traveling.
- Anti-mosquito weaponry. I sprayed myself at least every evening with bug spray (DEET, 30%). The mosquitoes weren’t such a terrible problem – they were much smaller than I expected, and really only came out during dusk and evenings. I took Malarone, a daily malaria prophylactic. There were four other pills I had heard volunteers take, and I would recommend a cheaper pill or one that is taken weekly. However, it is very important to take your meds; two people on the program got malaria while I was there, so the threat is real. You can also spray your clothes with Premethrin, a chemical that keeps mosquitoes away from your clothes and survives several laundry washes. It’s also a serious carcinogen and probably not worth it.
- Phones (like everything else in the country) are pay-as-you-go. Either bring a phone that would accept a SIM card and work in Africa (not all SIM phones do, check online) or buy a phone (~$30). I used a Tigo phone company, but all are essentially the same.
- I would recommend bringing a candy or food that reminds you of home. There are very few sweets in Ghana, and I had many chocolate cravings. Luckily I brought two bags of M&Ms, which were able to sustain my sugar fix for the six week trip.
- Bring shaving cream if you plan on using a manual razor.
- Bring or purchase in Ghana an electrical adapter with a ground plug (the third hole). They are available in Ghana for pretty cheap and mine worked fine, save for occasional sparking. In Cape Coast, all electrical outlets are the Great Britain style.
- Bring a Visa debit card. Master Cards and anything else aren’t accepted.
- Bring office supplies, if only as a gift for Ghanaians. Paper, tape, and pens are pretty scarce. I brought some mechanical pencils as prizes for students, and those were a pretty big hit.
- Try the fruit! It’s all very good, just be sure they don’t “wash” with common water or slice with a contaminated knife. Unpeeled or unsliced fruits are usually safe, and they’re delicious.
- Try FanIce! It’s a delicious bagged frozen yogurt. Vanilla is the best, though they have other flavors.
- There are very few mirrors in Ghana, so if you want to check your hair I’d recommend just snapping a digital picture. If you’re desperate, you can buy a mirror in the market but they’re expensive (by Ghana standards).
- Although riding in a taxi is a very rushed experience, take a moment to check the seat as you’re getting out for any forgotten items. While I was in Ghana, 4 different volunteers had lost an Ipod, camera, and 2 cell phones.
- A note about etiquette: Crossing your legs is considered the sign of a lazy person. Also, it’s offensive to point the bottom of your feet at somebody. Everything is done with the right hand – signaling a taxi, paying for money, shaking hands, etc. Often, taxis will pass you if you try signaling with your left hand. Eye contact or saying hello to strangers is acceptable and encouraged, especially if you’re white. Hissing at someone is how you get their attention (not shouting across the street), and clucking is a sign of disapproval.
- One last thing: Keep an open mind! You’re going to a third world country, and things won’t always work out as planned. The unexpected will routinely happen, and you’ll just have to go with it. If you are volunteering, try not to be disappointed if you encounter resistance to change. It’s impossible to change the world single-handedly – it’s a very gradual process. Think of your work more as laying the foundation for future volunteers, and take satisfaction in knowing that you really are making a difference, even if the changes aren’t immediately apparent.
Thanks again for following my blog! If you have any questions you can reach me at band.aid.dude (at) gmail (dot) com
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tomorrow's Stars and Goodbyes
It’s been awhile since the last blog (SORRY HIRSH!) because I’ve been closing up shop and prepping for my return home. However, I should mention that George Weir (an alumnus of Phi Psi OH Epsilon at Case) arrived in Ghana last week and we’ve met up twice. George and his wife Kathy founded an NGO called Tomorrow’s Stars, and they’ve been supporting three schools in the Elmina area for several years now. Before the trip, I knew Tomorrow’s Stars as that organization that my chapter of Phi Psi raises money for via the annual soccer tournament. However, since spending time with George in Ghana, I’ve come to appreciate it so much more.
Last Saturday I met with George and Kathy to attend their friend’s mother’s funeral. Because it’s Ghana, we arrived an hour late and thus right as the ceremony was beginning. Ghanaian custom mandates that those in attendance to a funeral wear all black as a sign of mourning. But don’t let the black clothes fool you – the funeral was more a celebration of life. The family was cheerful and smiling as they greeted people. This may have been because the mother passed away two months ago, and she was kept on ice until a lavish funeral could be arranged. Needless to say, the casket was closed.
The family rented 5-6 large tents to cover about 200 people in attendance. It was a Pentecostal service, so of course there was lots of dancing and worship. There was a live band with the same instruments as the church service I attended: a keyboard, drum kit, bass guitar, and bongos. We were given the best seats in the house, smack in front of the pastor and family.
Then the casket came out. To say it was garish is an understatement. The body was large, rounded white metal, with a chrome Jesus on a cross at the head and large chrome handles. Clearly the deceased was taking a 60’s vintage Cadillac up to heaven.
There was a thirty minute procession in which Kathy, George, Rudolph and I walked behind a marching band and the junior cadets (kind of like a mini-ROTC with wooden guns) through the hot African sun, dressed all in black. The cemetery they buried her in was pleasantly disorderly, filled with overgrown brush and crumbling headstones. Many graves had collapsed in on themselves and the whole scene probably would have been much creepier at night, but was very pleasant during the day.
We took a taxi back to the funeral site, where I sat two seats away from the regional chief surrounded by his assistants, mightily holding his gold staff (yeah, we had good seats). There was some kind of donation/auction which I didn’t understand at all, and a band was setting up behind the auctioneers, soundchecking over their speeches. There was a high-life (a blend of reggae and hiphop) concert from which my ears are still ringing, and we decided to head out.
As we were trying to make an inconspicuous exit, George was called up to the mic to make an impromptu speech. He was introduced as “the obruni from Europe and his lovely family” (he’s from Pittsburgh). He explained Tomorrow’s Stars and how it has helped the schools in the area, and then we went on our merry way.
The second time I met up with George, he gave me the grand Tomorrow’s Stars tour, visiting all of the schools it supports and explaining the history. We started at Edinaman Secondary School, which looks like a small university (secondary schools are the equivalent of high school). In ten years, the population has increased fivefold because of its increase in academic standings. It now has a population of 1200, about 40% living in dormitories on campus. The computer lab had fifty computers, more than I’ve seen the whole Ghana trip. The school is built on a hill, meaning there’s a mega-hike to get to classes without the handy-dandy elephant stairs, but there are some great views of the beach and salt mines around the area.
Rudolph joined us and we headed over to Christ Cares, the original T Stars school. It is a primary and junior secondary school, like elementary and middle school. Since George has started his support, they have built a water tower and a two-story building, tripling the size of the school and providing much needed supplements like a computer lab. T Stars provides a scholarship to 25 Christ Cares students to attend Edinaman, and the scholarship has easily proved its worth from a simple examination of some of its recent graduates, like Rudolph. Rudolph is a curious, intelligent student with passions for Chemistry and Biology, and he’s starting university this week. At the Elmina festival, during our walk at the funeral, and on our hike down Edinaman, Rudolph fired off question after question about the sciences. As I would begin to answer, he would fill in the gaps and completely understood my responses immediately. I know he’ll succeed and go far in life, and hopefully he’ll pave the way for other bright students.
The last school we visited was Bantuma Primary and JSS. Richard was in the process of painting the school so that it would comply with the government-regulated colors of tan and brown, colors that would inspire any student to buckle down and learn. Bantuma has a good sized library filled with English children’s books as well as two computers.
It was great to finally see the impact T Stars has created on the education of so many students in Elmina. It was also a point of pride to know that a Phi Psi brother was responsible for kickstarting the organization, and that Phi Psis continue to donate and fund the programs. After the grand tour, George and Kathy graciously hosted me, Rudolph, and the librarian Solo to dinner at Coconut Grove. We said our goodbyes, and I wished Rudolph happy travels on his university adventures.
I’m going to Accra today, and will stay the night. I board my plane tomorrow to go home. This has been a truly fantastic adventure, and I’m both saddened and excited by its closing. Thanks for following my blog, and I can't wait to see friends and family!
Last Saturday I met with George and Kathy to attend their friend’s mother’s funeral. Because it’s Ghana, we arrived an hour late and thus right as the ceremony was beginning. Ghanaian custom mandates that those in attendance to a funeral wear all black as a sign of mourning. But don’t let the black clothes fool you – the funeral was more a celebration of life. The family was cheerful and smiling as they greeted people. This may have been because the mother passed away two months ago, and she was kept on ice until a lavish funeral could be arranged. Needless to say, the casket was closed.
The family rented 5-6 large tents to cover about 200 people in attendance. It was a Pentecostal service, so of course there was lots of dancing and worship. There was a live band with the same instruments as the church service I attended: a keyboard, drum kit, bass guitar, and bongos. We were given the best seats in the house, smack in front of the pastor and family.
Then the casket came out. To say it was garish is an understatement. The body was large, rounded white metal, with a chrome Jesus on a cross at the head and large chrome handles. Clearly the deceased was taking a 60’s vintage Cadillac up to heaven.
There was a thirty minute procession in which Kathy, George, Rudolph and I walked behind a marching band and the junior cadets (kind of like a mini-ROTC with wooden guns) through the hot African sun, dressed all in black. The cemetery they buried her in was pleasantly disorderly, filled with overgrown brush and crumbling headstones. Many graves had collapsed in on themselves and the whole scene probably would have been much creepier at night, but was very pleasant during the day.
We took a taxi back to the funeral site, where I sat two seats away from the regional chief surrounded by his assistants, mightily holding his gold staff (yeah, we had good seats). There was some kind of donation/auction which I didn’t understand at all, and a band was setting up behind the auctioneers, soundchecking over their speeches. There was a high-life (a blend of reggae and hiphop) concert from which my ears are still ringing, and we decided to head out.
As we were trying to make an inconspicuous exit, George was called up to the mic to make an impromptu speech. He was introduced as “the obruni from Europe and his lovely family” (he’s from Pittsburgh). He explained Tomorrow’s Stars and how it has helped the schools in the area, and then we went on our merry way.
The second time I met up with George, he gave me the grand Tomorrow’s Stars tour, visiting all of the schools it supports and explaining the history. We started at Edinaman Secondary School, which looks like a small university (secondary schools are the equivalent of high school). In ten years, the population has increased fivefold because of its increase in academic standings. It now has a population of 1200, about 40% living in dormitories on campus. The computer lab had fifty computers, more than I’ve seen the whole Ghana trip. The school is built on a hill, meaning there’s a mega-hike to get to classes without the handy-dandy elephant stairs, but there are some great views of the beach and salt mines around the area.
Rudolph joined us and we headed over to Christ Cares, the original T Stars school. It is a primary and junior secondary school, like elementary and middle school. Since George has started his support, they have built a water tower and a two-story building, tripling the size of the school and providing much needed supplements like a computer lab. T Stars provides a scholarship to 25 Christ Cares students to attend Edinaman, and the scholarship has easily proved its worth from a simple examination of some of its recent graduates, like Rudolph. Rudolph is a curious, intelligent student with passions for Chemistry and Biology, and he’s starting university this week. At the Elmina festival, during our walk at the funeral, and on our hike down Edinaman, Rudolph fired off question after question about the sciences. As I would begin to answer, he would fill in the gaps and completely understood my responses immediately. I know he’ll succeed and go far in life, and hopefully he’ll pave the way for other bright students.
The last school we visited was Bantuma Primary and JSS. Richard was in the process of painting the school so that it would comply with the government-regulated colors of tan and brown, colors that would inspire any student to buckle down and learn. Bantuma has a good sized library filled with English children’s books as well as two computers.
It was great to finally see the impact T Stars has created on the education of so many students in Elmina. It was also a point of pride to know that a Phi Psi brother was responsible for kickstarting the organization, and that Phi Psis continue to donate and fund the programs. After the grand tour, George and Kathy graciously hosted me, Rudolph, and the librarian Solo to dinner at Coconut Grove. We said our goodbyes, and I wished Rudolph happy travels on his university adventures.
I’m going to Accra today, and will stay the night. I board my plane tomorrow to go home. This has been a truly fantastic adventure, and I’m both saddened and excited by its closing. Thanks for following my blog, and I can't wait to see friends and family!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Nzulezo
Our numbers here at ProWorld are dwindling…we’re down to only five volunteers. We decided (sort of on a whim) to voyage out to the Western Region to see the fabled stilt-city of Nzulezo, a village built entirely on a lake.
Lauren, Lucas, Olivia and I departed via trotro from the main market Kotokraba at 9AM. Akhil wanted to sleep in late (yeah, I just called you out buddy). It was a 2 hour ride to Takoradi, the capital city of the Western Region. Along the way, we saw a rubber tree forest and processing plant, along with the much anticipated “Lion King plains” – an endless field of tall grass stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with solitary trees and cacti. All that was missing was an oddly shaped rock mountain and Elton John. They speak a different language from Fante in the west, and so we had an even more difficult time figuring out how to get our connecting ride to Nzulezo. Eventually we figured it out, and it was another 2.5 hour ride to our destination.
Once we arrived, we were told that there were many groups ahead of us and we would be stuck waiting if we didn’t “open our hands [wallets]”. Fearing that it was noon already and we had a five hour trip back home, we paid the extra 10 GHC ($6) to be included in the next group, a Presbyterian church group from Accra (a 7+ hour ride at least).
The city on stilts was pretty cool, but the canoe ride to the village was the most excellent part. Navigating through the wetland marshes and lakes and hearing the splashing of the oars gave us all a peaceful easy feeling. Then we arrived at the village. No one understands why these people decided to build a village on a lake, but they did a pretty good job of urban planning. The dock leads directly to the main street, lined with shop huts and a school. The houses were off the main road, in compartmented blocks. Everything (streets, houses, stilts) was made of bamboo, and every so often the bamboo needs to be entirely replaced. Very expensive upkeep, but probably worth the price of being one of the largest tourist spots in west Ghana. The sun was setting on our return trip, and it was a very beautiful scene.
When we got back to dry land, we were elated that our adventure had gone so well. The enjoyment disappeared as soon as we tried getting a ride back home. The trotros had stopped running and there weren’t any taxis in the area. The Presbyterians we had travelled with were packing up their air-conditioned, spacious, shiny greyhound bus and graciously offered us a ride for the small price of saying a prayer for everyone’s safe return. Thinking of the bumpy dirt roads that I would get to experience in a bus with actual suspension, I diligently prayed. Everyone on the bus was super friendly, and we had a great time making friends and swapping stories and laughing at the terrible Ghanaian films all the way back to Cape Coast. It was an excellent adventure.
A side note: most establishments in Ghana are named after some Christian phrase, i.e. “Blood of Jesus Spot [Bar]” or “Our Holy Saviour Barber Salon” or “Believe and Be Saved General Store”. While walking around looking for the trotro terminal to get to Nzulezo, we happened across the “John Lennon Spot,” proving that in at least one instance John Lennon is, in fact, bigger than Jesus.
Lauren, Lucas, Olivia and I departed via trotro from the main market Kotokraba at 9AM. Akhil wanted to sleep in late (yeah, I just called you out buddy). It was a 2 hour ride to Takoradi, the capital city of the Western Region. Along the way, we saw a rubber tree forest and processing plant, along with the much anticipated “Lion King plains” – an endless field of tall grass stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with solitary trees and cacti. All that was missing was an oddly shaped rock mountain and Elton John. They speak a different language from Fante in the west, and so we had an even more difficult time figuring out how to get our connecting ride to Nzulezo. Eventually we figured it out, and it was another 2.5 hour ride to our destination.
Once we arrived, we were told that there were many groups ahead of us and we would be stuck waiting if we didn’t “open our hands [wallets]”. Fearing that it was noon already and we had a five hour trip back home, we paid the extra 10 GHC ($6) to be included in the next group, a Presbyterian church group from Accra (a 7+ hour ride at least).
The city on stilts was pretty cool, but the canoe ride to the village was the most excellent part. Navigating through the wetland marshes and lakes and hearing the splashing of the oars gave us all a peaceful easy feeling. Then we arrived at the village. No one understands why these people decided to build a village on a lake, but they did a pretty good job of urban planning. The dock leads directly to the main street, lined with shop huts and a school. The houses were off the main road, in compartmented blocks. Everything (streets, houses, stilts) was made of bamboo, and every so often the bamboo needs to be entirely replaced. Very expensive upkeep, but probably worth the price of being one of the largest tourist spots in west Ghana. The sun was setting on our return trip, and it was a very beautiful scene.
When we got back to dry land, we were elated that our adventure had gone so well. The enjoyment disappeared as soon as we tried getting a ride back home. The trotros had stopped running and there weren’t any taxis in the area. The Presbyterians we had travelled with were packing up their air-conditioned, spacious, shiny greyhound bus and graciously offered us a ride for the small price of saying a prayer for everyone’s safe return. Thinking of the bumpy dirt roads that I would get to experience in a bus with actual suspension, I diligently prayed. Everyone on the bus was super friendly, and we had a great time making friends and swapping stories and laughing at the terrible Ghanaian films all the way back to Cape Coast. It was an excellent adventure.
A side note: most establishments in Ghana are named after some Christian phrase, i.e. “Blood of Jesus Spot [Bar]” or “Our Holy Saviour Barber Salon” or “Believe and Be Saved General Store”. While walking around looking for the trotro terminal to get to Nzulezo, we happened across the “John Lennon Spot,” proving that in at least one instance John Lennon is, in fact, bigger than Jesus.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Religulous Ep 2: The Holy Rollers Strike Back
This Sunday I went to church with Adina. Having never attended a Pentecostal service, before we left I ask her the difference between her church and a Baptist one. Her one word answer: “charisma.” Wanting clarification I ask if the prayers or service were different. Nope. Confused, I prepare myself the best I can for a very charismatic morning.
When we arrived I got the immediate impression of attending a concert rather than a religious service. Housed in a concrete building roughly the size of a basketball court, worshipers are inundated with echoing, low-fidelity sound from a band consisting of a preacher/lead-singer/rock-band frontman, 3 backup singers, a drum kit, a keyboard, and some variation on a bongo. The sound was of such poor quality that two songs in I realized they were actually singing in English. I was fortunate that the rest of the service was in English as well.
Adina is a deaconess and elder in her church and thus sat separately from me. As an elder, it seemed to be her responsibility to get up and lead the dancing in front of the pulpit. Why older people frenetically moving in front of the stage is supposed to inspire the congregation to join in dance is beyond me, but it seemed to be effective – for the first 30 minutes of the service the entire auditorium was out of their seats (plastic chairs arranged as pews), bouncing and shouting and singing and praising His Name.
After 30 minutes, a pastor returned everyone to their seats for a 5 minute responsive bible reading. Everyone had brought their own New Testament (funnily enough, I seemed to have forgotten to bring mine…). After the reading, there were 10 minutes of song. This pattern continued, with 5 minutes bible interrupted by 10 minutes of singing/dancing. Or perhaps the singing/dancing was interrupted by the bible? Regardless, the congregation had a very specific script to follow. Every time a pastor said, “Hallelujah” or “Praise God” we would immediately respond with an enthusiastic “Amen!” However, if he said, “Blessed be Jesus” we would reply with a “Hallelujah!”
I enjoyed the baby dedication ceremony, where newborns were brought to the altar to be blessed by the pastor. He blessed them with long life (the avg life expectancy in Ghana is 57) and sprinkled them with some holy water.
There was one particularly song that the pastor specially requested that the congregation “get into.” During the course of this song I counted five people who got down on their knees, arms raised, a look of pure agony on their faces. One woman danced around in front of the pulpit hunched over with her hands behind her back, resembling a five year old imitating an airplane running in circles. One of the elders went prone face down, arms outstretched in front of her, and shook violently. My EMS training immediately thought clonic phase of a grand-mal seizure and I wanted to clear the area around her and check vitals/pupils.
After this holy roof-raising, we sat down for the longest divar torah I’ve ever experienced. The eldest pastor took the pulpit, and everyone around me whipped out a notebook, making me feel much more comfortable since I’d been desperate to scribble some notes since the beginning of the service. The subject of his talk: spiritual healing. Needless to say, my attention was instantly captivated. This was before I discovered it would be an hour and a half lecture. He started out by explaining that just because everyone in the congregation has been saved by following the true faith didn’t mean we were guaranteed eternal life. You must fight to receive eternal life. “Faith is an arrowhead. It doesn’t miss its target, hits its enemy and leaves them dead. Praise God!” To which the congregation replied instantly, “Amen!” while I was left wondering who the enemy was and how they could be mortally wounded by an ideology. Remember, the talk was supposed to be about spiritual healing, not holy wars.
He seemed to return to the topic shortly by proclaiming (and repeating about 20 times), “healing comes from hearing the Word.” He explains that every sickness is caused by a malevolent spirit, and just as I start to worry that he’ll begin recommending his family witch doctor to treat your malaria and AIDS he clarifies that it is important to get professional medical care. “Medical science only tries to heal the body, but great physicians heal the mind…medicine heals, God cures.” Apparently, God-fearing physicians who dabble in psychology are acceptable by his standards…unfortunately I don’t think any of those exist. He quotes the bible as saying, “those who believe in My Name shall cast out devils” and “in the name of Jesus you cast out devils.” He describes the caduceus (the international symbol of medicine of snakes wrapped around a pole) as physicians saying, “Look up to God for healing, not us.” He concludes his shtick on healing by declaring, “Every sickness will die, and the bad people behind this sickness will die as well.” It’s interesting to see the public image of disease reconciled between the Christian/western views of viruses and pathogens and the traditional Ghanaian views of sinister spirits and witches causing illness.
It was an interesting take on faith and medicine, and it was a side of Christianity I’d never seen before. However, he would frequently shout so loud that my ears would hurt and my head would buzz. He would increase the volume of his voice and repeat his main points for emphasis, and at some points I just would try to shut him out for my head’s sake. He used several interesting metaphors, but at one point he used an obscure fishing metaphor for faith that was way over my head, but everyone else in the room seemed to understand.
He moved on from healing using the Good Word to other areas of medicine. “Faith is God’s sperm cell,” he proclaimed, “the Virgin Mary received faith. If you are a woman waiting for child, it isn’t your husband who isn’t giving you a child, it is God’s word.” Frankly, what with Africa’s population problems, I think it could use a little less faith (I know, I’m going to hell). He closed by restating that with faith you can cure anything, and that “in the name of the Lord, terminal disease is terminated!” Everyone cheered his catchy closer. It was a positive message, and I was probably the only skeptic in the auditorium.
Some upcoming events for the church:
- Wednesday prayer
- Thursday testaments: group meeting explaining when you saw the hand of God or fought against satanic influences
- If you so wish, you can request your workplace or business be blessed. I’m curious how this act is performed, but didn’t get the opportunity to ask.
One of the elders offered to baptize me next Sunday. I told her I’d think about it.
When we arrived I got the immediate impression of attending a concert rather than a religious service. Housed in a concrete building roughly the size of a basketball court, worshipers are inundated with echoing, low-fidelity sound from a band consisting of a preacher/lead-singer/rock-band frontman, 3 backup singers, a drum kit, a keyboard, and some variation on a bongo. The sound was of such poor quality that two songs in I realized they were actually singing in English. I was fortunate that the rest of the service was in English as well.
Adina is a deaconess and elder in her church and thus sat separately from me. As an elder, it seemed to be her responsibility to get up and lead the dancing in front of the pulpit. Why older people frenetically moving in front of the stage is supposed to inspire the congregation to join in dance is beyond me, but it seemed to be effective – for the first 30 minutes of the service the entire auditorium was out of their seats (plastic chairs arranged as pews), bouncing and shouting and singing and praising His Name.
After 30 minutes, a pastor returned everyone to their seats for a 5 minute responsive bible reading. Everyone had brought their own New Testament (funnily enough, I seemed to have forgotten to bring mine…). After the reading, there were 10 minutes of song. This pattern continued, with 5 minutes bible interrupted by 10 minutes of singing/dancing. Or perhaps the singing/dancing was interrupted by the bible? Regardless, the congregation had a very specific script to follow. Every time a pastor said, “Hallelujah” or “Praise God” we would immediately respond with an enthusiastic “Amen!” However, if he said, “Blessed be Jesus” we would reply with a “Hallelujah!”
I enjoyed the baby dedication ceremony, where newborns were brought to the altar to be blessed by the pastor. He blessed them with long life (the avg life expectancy in Ghana is 57) and sprinkled them with some holy water.
There was one particularly song that the pastor specially requested that the congregation “get into.” During the course of this song I counted five people who got down on their knees, arms raised, a look of pure agony on their faces. One woman danced around in front of the pulpit hunched over with her hands behind her back, resembling a five year old imitating an airplane running in circles. One of the elders went prone face down, arms outstretched in front of her, and shook violently. My EMS training immediately thought clonic phase of a grand-mal seizure and I wanted to clear the area around her and check vitals/pupils.
After this holy roof-raising, we sat down for the longest divar torah I’ve ever experienced. The eldest pastor took the pulpit, and everyone around me whipped out a notebook, making me feel much more comfortable since I’d been desperate to scribble some notes since the beginning of the service. The subject of his talk: spiritual healing. Needless to say, my attention was instantly captivated. This was before I discovered it would be an hour and a half lecture. He started out by explaining that just because everyone in the congregation has been saved by following the true faith didn’t mean we were guaranteed eternal life. You must fight to receive eternal life. “Faith is an arrowhead. It doesn’t miss its target, hits its enemy and leaves them dead. Praise God!” To which the congregation replied instantly, “Amen!” while I was left wondering who the enemy was and how they could be mortally wounded by an ideology. Remember, the talk was supposed to be about spiritual healing, not holy wars.
He seemed to return to the topic shortly by proclaiming (and repeating about 20 times), “healing comes from hearing the Word.” He explains that every sickness is caused by a malevolent spirit, and just as I start to worry that he’ll begin recommending his family witch doctor to treat your malaria and AIDS he clarifies that it is important to get professional medical care. “Medical science only tries to heal the body, but great physicians heal the mind…medicine heals, God cures.” Apparently, God-fearing physicians who dabble in psychology are acceptable by his standards…unfortunately I don’t think any of those exist. He quotes the bible as saying, “those who believe in My Name shall cast out devils” and “in the name of Jesus you cast out devils.” He describes the caduceus (the international symbol of medicine of snakes wrapped around a pole) as physicians saying, “Look up to God for healing, not us.” He concludes his shtick on healing by declaring, “Every sickness will die, and the bad people behind this sickness will die as well.” It’s interesting to see the public image of disease reconciled between the Christian/western views of viruses and pathogens and the traditional Ghanaian views of sinister spirits and witches causing illness.
It was an interesting take on faith and medicine, and it was a side of Christianity I’d never seen before. However, he would frequently shout so loud that my ears would hurt and my head would buzz. He would increase the volume of his voice and repeat his main points for emphasis, and at some points I just would try to shut him out for my head’s sake. He used several interesting metaphors, but at one point he used an obscure fishing metaphor for faith that was way over my head, but everyone else in the room seemed to understand.
He moved on from healing using the Good Word to other areas of medicine. “Faith is God’s sperm cell,” he proclaimed, “the Virgin Mary received faith. If you are a woman waiting for child, it isn’t your husband who isn’t giving you a child, it is God’s word.” Frankly, what with Africa’s population problems, I think it could use a little less faith (I know, I’m going to hell). He closed by restating that with faith you can cure anything, and that “in the name of the Lord, terminal disease is terminated!” Everyone cheered his catchy closer. It was a positive message, and I was probably the only skeptic in the auditorium.
Some upcoming events for the church:
- Wednesday prayer
- Thursday testaments: group meeting explaining when you saw the hand of God or fought against satanic influences
- If you so wish, you can request your workplace or business be blessed. I’m curious how this act is performed, but didn’t get the opportunity to ask.
One of the elders offered to baptize me next Sunday. I told her I’d think about it.
An Update???
Yeah, med school secondary apps trump Ghana blogs.
Love Life Updates:
I’ve been pushing for Love Life to join an organization called Global Giving, which is an online community of NGOs who can be funded by individual donors. However, in order to join, Fati needs to get her organization nationally recognized and separate the organization’s finances from her own. Thus far, she’s been financing the organization entirely by her own money and she can’t really afford to expand much more, so it would be good to get some financial assistance. It’s a long and slow process working with the government agency in Accra, and unfortunately the name of our NGO may have to change (there are three Love Lifes in Ghana). I worked with Matt and Tess in creating bylaws and a constitution for the organization, channeling my inner Thomas Jefferson/Henry Robert and showing off my awesome parli-proness (FARCKERS 4EVER).
We had our first positive patient in the clinic. As part of our clinical work, we educate and screen pregnant women for HIV. Instead of lecturing to them about what HIV/AIDS is and how it spreads, we ask them questions to see what they know and fill in the gaps or correct misunderstandings. For example, HIV is not, in fact, transmittable by coughing, mosquitoes, or witchcraft. Last Tuesday, we had a patient who knew the answers to most of our questions. She is 34, is pregnant with her second child, and both she and her husband have steady jobs. She seemed to have her life in order. When we ask her hypothetically if her husband had AIDS would she stay with him, she says yes, she would take the right precautions but still live with him (many say no for fear of getting it through food, toilets, etc.)
Then we tested her and she was positive. She handled the news well, and we told her Love Life would help any way we could – provide meds, financial help, counseling, etc. We sent her to the midwife for further testing (to determine if the infection has developed to AIDS or not – not likely since she seemed pretty healthy and well).
After we finished our screenings for the day we see her again. Now, she’s anxious, crying, and panicky. She keeps wondering how she got infected, and repeats that she is contemplating suicide – quite a statement from someone who was so calm and anchored a few hours before. She accepted our offer of aid, and we will start regular meetings soon.
Later, I learned more about our patient – she is a spiritualist. Spiritualists put symbolic scars on their face and arms, usually by branding with hot knives or pricking. I noticed she had horizontal markings on her cheeks, but didn’t think much of it at the time. Often, spiritualist villages will share pricking knives – a huge opportunity for blood-borne pathogens to spread.
She has also had four ultrasound scans, without any indication of a baby, meaning she likely missed her period due to the virus. We’re afraid to tell her that she’s not pregnant, since she already seems pretty emotionally unstable. It may also be difficult to convince her to take her medicines if she doesn’t have a baby to protect from the virus. We’ll address all of these issues when we see her next.
Other news:
Apparently it’s a cultural taboo to sing in the shower; it’s believed that by singing you invite spirits to attack your digestive system. The origin of this taboo is that the chemicals in soap are easily ingested while singing, which could give you an upset stomach. So far, I’ve managed to be spirit-free despite my beautiful and inspiring daily shower performances.
The entire Pro-World group (now down to just 9 people) went to a luxury beach resort for Friday and Saturday. It was the most amazing time, filled with the most amazing luxuries – a kitchenette, air conditioning, hot water, even a bed that’s not made of straw! And there was pseudo-American food. I ordered a “steak filet” and got burger meat…but it was still a welcome and familiar taste. It was a very late night on Friday, roaming the beach until past 2 AM.
The next day I explored a nearby castle/fort with Akhil. We hiked up a hill only to find the castle, named Fort Amsterdam, was closed. Since there weren’t any signs indicating open hours, we broke in through the “door of no return” (the door used to shepherd slaves out to boats bound for the Americas). From the top of the castle, we had the most amazing view of the beach and surrounding towns! And then we were caught by an archaeologist/tour guide. He was good humored about it, and gave us a short tour around the structure. The fort was taken from the British by the Dutch a year after the Brits captured New Amsterdam, now known as New York City. Not quite an equal trade-off, but the view was pretty excellent. After conquering Fort Amsterdam, we returned to the beach to sunbathe and relax with the rest of the group.
Love Life Updates:
I’ve been pushing for Love Life to join an organization called Global Giving, which is an online community of NGOs who can be funded by individual donors. However, in order to join, Fati needs to get her organization nationally recognized and separate the organization’s finances from her own. Thus far, she’s been financing the organization entirely by her own money and she can’t really afford to expand much more, so it would be good to get some financial assistance. It’s a long and slow process working with the government agency in Accra, and unfortunately the name of our NGO may have to change (there are three Love Lifes in Ghana). I worked with Matt and Tess in creating bylaws and a constitution for the organization, channeling my inner Thomas Jefferson/Henry Robert and showing off my awesome parli-proness (FARCKERS 4EVER).
We had our first positive patient in the clinic. As part of our clinical work, we educate and screen pregnant women for HIV. Instead of lecturing to them about what HIV/AIDS is and how it spreads, we ask them questions to see what they know and fill in the gaps or correct misunderstandings. For example, HIV is not, in fact, transmittable by coughing, mosquitoes, or witchcraft. Last Tuesday, we had a patient who knew the answers to most of our questions. She is 34, is pregnant with her second child, and both she and her husband have steady jobs. She seemed to have her life in order. When we ask her hypothetically if her husband had AIDS would she stay with him, she says yes, she would take the right precautions but still live with him (many say no for fear of getting it through food, toilets, etc.)
Then we tested her and she was positive. She handled the news well, and we told her Love Life would help any way we could – provide meds, financial help, counseling, etc. We sent her to the midwife for further testing (to determine if the infection has developed to AIDS or not – not likely since she seemed pretty healthy and well).
After we finished our screenings for the day we see her again. Now, she’s anxious, crying, and panicky. She keeps wondering how she got infected, and repeats that she is contemplating suicide – quite a statement from someone who was so calm and anchored a few hours before. She accepted our offer of aid, and we will start regular meetings soon.
Later, I learned more about our patient – she is a spiritualist. Spiritualists put symbolic scars on their face and arms, usually by branding with hot knives or pricking. I noticed she had horizontal markings on her cheeks, but didn’t think much of it at the time. Often, spiritualist villages will share pricking knives – a huge opportunity for blood-borne pathogens to spread.
She has also had four ultrasound scans, without any indication of a baby, meaning she likely missed her period due to the virus. We’re afraid to tell her that she’s not pregnant, since she already seems pretty emotionally unstable. It may also be difficult to convince her to take her medicines if she doesn’t have a baby to protect from the virus. We’ll address all of these issues when we see her next.
Other news:
Apparently it’s a cultural taboo to sing in the shower; it’s believed that by singing you invite spirits to attack your digestive system. The origin of this taboo is that the chemicals in soap are easily ingested while singing, which could give you an upset stomach. So far, I’ve managed to be spirit-free despite my beautiful and inspiring daily shower performances.
The entire Pro-World group (now down to just 9 people) went to a luxury beach resort for Friday and Saturday. It was the most amazing time, filled with the most amazing luxuries – a kitchenette, air conditioning, hot water, even a bed that’s not made of straw! And there was pseudo-American food. I ordered a “steak filet” and got burger meat…but it was still a welcome and familiar taste. It was a very late night on Friday, roaming the beach until past 2 AM.
The next day I explored a nearby castle/fort with Akhil. We hiked up a hill only to find the castle, named Fort Amsterdam, was closed. Since there weren’t any signs indicating open hours, we broke in through the “door of no return” (the door used to shepherd slaves out to boats bound for the Americas). From the top of the castle, we had the most amazing view of the beach and surrounding towns! And then we were caught by an archaeologist/tour guide. He was good humored about it, and gave us a short tour around the structure. The fort was taken from the British by the Dutch a year after the Brits captured New Amsterdam, now known as New York City. Not quite an equal trade-off, but the view was pretty excellent. After conquering Fort Amsterdam, we returned to the beach to sunbathe and relax with the rest of the group.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Religulous
The very first night of my staying in Adina’s house, the subject of my faith came up. I told her plainly that I was Jewish, and she was very accepting – she stated that Judaism was a kind of Christianity, and she didn’t understand why I didn’t just believe in the true Lord and His son. I kind of laughed it off (it was the first night, I had to tread softly!) and suggested I go to her church sometime. I’m actually kind of looking forward to the service; Pentecostal services in Ghana are supposed to be quite a show.
Isaac is taking his final exams this week. Today, he took English and a course called “Religion and Moral Education.” Keep in mind that there’s no separation of church and state here in Ghana – Christianity is the official national religion, but there’s a sufficiently large Islam population that other religions are tolerated.
Isaac showed me his practice exam for the religion test, and here are some sample questions:
Q: Jesus fasted for ___ before He was tempted by satan
A: 40 days – I actually got this one right!
Q: Mohammed received his ________ at al Sakharat
A: Last revelation? I didn’t know this, but Isaac was pretty certain
Q: Traditional believers worship God through ______
A: Lesser gods
I asked Isaac to explain that last question. He explains that “traditional believers” worship false idols and not the real God, so Christians have to inform them that they’re praying through those idols to God.
I ask him if he’s ever heard of Hinduism. He shakes his head but Adina, cooking potatoes nearby, grunts. I tell him it’s a very interesting religion with great stories about deities with the heads of animals and bodies of humans. (Please note that I’m not a qualified theology professor (heck, I’m not even a qualified explainer), so please please please don’t hate me Divya/Akhil/everybody for my simplified explanation.) Isaac chuckles at the thought of such gods, but Adina says simply, “It’s wrong.” I object, saying that it’s a different but interesting take on belief, it’s been around longer than Christianity, and the stories are what make the religion interesting. She is a little upset about my discussion of such paganism in her household and cuts her potatoes in silent disapproval, so I change the subject back to Isaac’s tests and ask him about how he studies.
Apparently he doesn’t. I ask him why not and he explains, “If you think too hard then you won’t get it.” I tell him that only studying the night before a test is bad, but studying over a couple of days will really help you learn the material. I offer to help him study, but he left his books at school and doesn’t want my help. I’ll keep trying.
Isaac is taking his final exams this week. Today, he took English and a course called “Religion and Moral Education.” Keep in mind that there’s no separation of church and state here in Ghana – Christianity is the official national religion, but there’s a sufficiently large Islam population that other religions are tolerated.
Isaac showed me his practice exam for the religion test, and here are some sample questions:
Q: Jesus fasted for ___ before He was tempted by satan
A: 40 days – I actually got this one right!
Q: Mohammed received his ________ at al Sakharat
A: Last revelation? I didn’t know this, but Isaac was pretty certain
Q: Traditional believers worship God through ______
A: Lesser gods
I asked Isaac to explain that last question. He explains that “traditional believers” worship false idols and not the real God, so Christians have to inform them that they’re praying through those idols to God.
I ask him if he’s ever heard of Hinduism. He shakes his head but Adina, cooking potatoes nearby, grunts. I tell him it’s a very interesting religion with great stories about deities with the heads of animals and bodies of humans. (Please note that I’m not a qualified theology professor (heck, I’m not even a qualified explainer), so please please please don’t hate me Divya/Akhil/everybody for my simplified explanation.) Isaac chuckles at the thought of such gods, but Adina says simply, “It’s wrong.” I object, saying that it’s a different but interesting take on belief, it’s been around longer than Christianity, and the stories are what make the religion interesting. She is a little upset about my discussion of such paganism in her household and cuts her potatoes in silent disapproval, so I change the subject back to Isaac’s tests and ask him about how he studies.
Apparently he doesn’t. I ask him why not and he explains, “If you think too hard then you won’t get it.” I tell him that only studying the night before a test is bad, but studying over a couple of days will really help you learn the material. I offer to help him study, but he left his books at school and doesn’t want my help. I’ll keep trying.
I Bless the Rains Down in Africa!
It’s the wet season in Ghana, and the last couple of days have been pretty dreary. When it rains the open sewers flood over and the smell is overpowering. I also had a 24-hour cold Thursday-Friday, which was really miserable. It’s pretty striking that recovery treatments for this kind of virus are so similar between the US and Ghana – I was hoping to experience some herbal, all-powerful instafix, but instead I got cold tablets. The tablet packaging had very comical images of smiling obrunis that weren’t relevant in the least to anything, but it fits into the Ghanaian saying of “always trust the white man”.
I first experienced this maxim when Adina was explaining the treatment of her ailing mother (who’s now 90 years old, blind, and partially deaf). Her mother first lost vision a few years ago, so Adina took her to a white doctor who said it was just old age and there’s nothing he could do. Then she took her mother to an African doctor who suggested operation. After the surgery there was no change, and so now Adina believes the white man’s word holds more value than the black doctor, even though the white doctor’s approach was indolent and apathetic while the black doctor suggested action and treatment. Since hearing this story, I’ve seen the “trust the white man” truism in a variety of situations – in commercials, for instance, there is usually a German or British accented speaker doing the advertisements. On billboards for cell phones, there’s often an obruni talking and smiling, confident that he made the right choice in phone and so should all of Ghana. And of course, the random two white people on my cold tablets, smiling quite irrelevantly at the poor sick (probably) black person.
On Sunday, the rains finally disappeared and a couple of people on the program went out to the Coconut Grove Beach Resort. This is quite possibly the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to, filled with some of the palest obrunis ever. The waves were ginormous! And quite violent – while wading a few meters in we often would wipe out and I was almost dragged out to sea on several occasions. Plus, there were large rocks jutting out of the ocean everywhere – this was more of a “sit on the beach tanning and looking at the pretty waves” kind of ocean.
This was also the place to go if you wanted to go to Ghana but not experience it. Between the large outdoor bars and air conditioned huts frolicked more pale whiteys (and the occasional Japanese tourist) than I had seen so far. There were also fully uniformed guards patrolling the beach with their massive, heavy boots stomping among the scantily clad obrunis. Welcome to Ghana!
I first experienced this maxim when Adina was explaining the treatment of her ailing mother (who’s now 90 years old, blind, and partially deaf). Her mother first lost vision a few years ago, so Adina took her to a white doctor who said it was just old age and there’s nothing he could do. Then she took her mother to an African doctor who suggested operation. After the surgery there was no change, and so now Adina believes the white man’s word holds more value than the black doctor, even though the white doctor’s approach was indolent and apathetic while the black doctor suggested action and treatment. Since hearing this story, I’ve seen the “trust the white man” truism in a variety of situations – in commercials, for instance, there is usually a German or British accented speaker doing the advertisements. On billboards for cell phones, there’s often an obruni talking and smiling, confident that he made the right choice in phone and so should all of Ghana. And of course, the random two white people on my cold tablets, smiling quite irrelevantly at the poor sick (probably) black person.
On Sunday, the rains finally disappeared and a couple of people on the program went out to the Coconut Grove Beach Resort. This is quite possibly the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to, filled with some of the palest obrunis ever. The waves were ginormous! And quite violent – while wading a few meters in we often would wipe out and I was almost dragged out to sea on several occasions. Plus, there were large rocks jutting out of the ocean everywhere – this was more of a “sit on the beach tanning and looking at the pretty waves” kind of ocean.
This was also the place to go if you wanted to go to Ghana but not experience it. Between the large outdoor bars and air conditioned huts frolicked more pale whiteys (and the occasional Japanese tourist) than I had seen so far. There were also fully uniformed guards patrolling the beach with their massive, heavy boots stomping among the scantily clad obrunis. Welcome to Ghana!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Short Update + Pictures
Isaac didn’t go to school on Monday because his uniform was still wet from washing. When I asked him why he didn’t just get two uniforms and never miss out on school, he gave me this weird look that said I was crazy for even thinking that.
In other news: I FOUND PEANUT BUTTER!!! Except it’s called “ground nut paste” and used for certain kinds of soups. It’s more earthy and organic tasting than regular PB, and it’s super thick – two teaspoons and your jaw is stuck shut.
At Love Life we adopted a kitten! He’s about a month old. Really it was Matt, Tess, and Fati’s idea, I just went along with it. But he’s adorably cute! At first I wanted to name him “Bola”, meaning “trash dump” in Fante (there’s a garbage dump across the street from where we work) but apparently I was alone in that. Then I suggested “Onkwa” meaning “survivor”, because Matt’s last pet had suffered a pretty terrible death. We settled on the name “Andy” because a classmate of theirs named Andy hates cats, but then it was changed again to “Clovis”. His official title is: “Andy” Clovis the Onkwa cat formerly known as Bola. We gave it all the requisite shots and meds so that Tess and Matt can take Clovis back to the states.
Adina’s sister is in town for two days from Accra. We were talking about all of the differences between countries, and she couldn’t believe that rats and cockroaches existed in America! She really thought I was lying to her.
Blah blah blah...PICTURES!
Me at the cape coast castle - that's a cannon
A picture of me and Isaac at my house, taken by Adina (hence the partial decapitation)
My room (for my mom's sake)
The view from my house to the rest of Cape Coast
View of Cape from atop the bell tower
Andy/Clovis/Onkwa/Bola
In other news: I FOUND PEANUT BUTTER!!! Except it’s called “ground nut paste” and used for certain kinds of soups. It’s more earthy and organic tasting than regular PB, and it’s super thick – two teaspoons and your jaw is stuck shut.
At Love Life we adopted a kitten! He’s about a month old. Really it was Matt, Tess, and Fati’s idea, I just went along with it. But he’s adorably cute! At first I wanted to name him “Bola”, meaning “trash dump” in Fante (there’s a garbage dump across the street from where we work) but apparently I was alone in that. Then I suggested “Onkwa” meaning “survivor”, because Matt’s last pet had suffered a pretty terrible death. We settled on the name “Andy” because a classmate of theirs named Andy hates cats, but then it was changed again to “Clovis”. His official title is: “Andy” Clovis the Onkwa cat formerly known as Bola. We gave it all the requisite shots and meds so that Tess and Matt can take Clovis back to the states.
Adina’s sister is in town for two days from Accra. We were talking about all of the differences between countries, and she couldn’t believe that rats and cockroaches existed in America! She really thought I was lying to her.
Blah blah blah...PICTURES!
Me at the cape coast castle - that's a cannon
A picture of me and Isaac at my house, taken by Adina (hence the partial decapitation)
My room (for my mom's sake)
The view from my house to the rest of Cape Coast
View of Cape from atop the bell tower
Andy/Clovis/Onkwa/BolaMonday, July 12, 2010
The Weekend
I found out the day after that the reason Adina hadn’t answered my phone call was that she was in an all-night “spiritual emphasis”, where her church prayed and sang til 4AM! Apparently she had a satellite connection to a bishop in Nigeria, where her Pentecostal church is based. If I were to try, all I would be able to sing at a 4AM prayer group would be “dayenu”, but to each their own.
That Saturday my ProWorld group went to a Ghanaian drum/dance lesson, which was pretty fantastic. Mike would have really enjoyed the drumming lessons – we actually got pretty good!
I went to Elmina, a large fishing town about a half hour from Cape Coast, and have finally met Kathy Weir. George Weir (an alumnus of Phi Psi at Case Western) and his wife Kathy started a foundation called Tomorrow’s Stars that directly built a school called Christ Cares and funds two others, Edinaman and Bantuma. We explored the last day of the Elmina festival, which celebrates the end of the seasonal fishing ban. I saw the royal families and chiefs, decked out in some of the most expensive bling I’ve ever seen – big gold necklaces, crowns, and bracelets, and they were carried in lavish recliners balanced on the heads of specially qualified subjects.
I met a few Tomorrow’s Stars students while hanging with Kathy. Rudolph is a very studious and naturally curious student of the sciences who will begin university next year to study herbal medicines. Richard is a very down to earth and fun person to be with, studying communication and business. Francis is a generous and compassionate guy who works as an accountant in the bank. They all went out of their way to make me feel at home, and were really friendly.
A quick side note – I saw a mind-numbing TV show called “Sound Splash”. It’s a live concert of several artists on the channel One Africa. The show started off with a hit gospel singer who is well-known by at least my host mother. It was immediately apparent that she was lip-syncing – she tried saying something into the microphone and it didn’t register, but she was singing just fine prior. She was followed by a police officer who sang reggae, a hip-hop dance crew, and a Ghanaian rapper (its REALLY funny to listen to Fanti rap - I swear it's all vowel sounds). The gospel singer was the clear crowd favorite, although the best part was the backup dancers for the rapper. He had two white women behind him, awkwardly moving somewhat rhythmically but clearly out of place dancing in front of an all-black audience who enjoy gospel and could probably outdance either of them blindfolded. Since the rap was in Fanti, they probably didn’t understand the lyrics either, but they still received a standing ovation after the show. Such is the power of the Obruni, and the inanity of Ghanaian television.
Yesterday the ProWorld group trekked to Kakum Park and took a huge nature hike, replete with a gravity-defying rope bridge canopy walk. While walking along the bridge I tried not to think back on the Indiana Jones, Pirates of the Caribbean, and million other movies where the ropes snap and the travelers are left with an unfortunate drop. Our tour guide seemed to know just about every fact about every tree in the rainforest, and gave us very cool details on how to prepare them to make herbal remedies for just about any ailment. We also visited a monkey reservation for rescued Ghanaian wildlife, owned and operated by a Dutch woman.
The highlight of the day was definitely the World Cup. Some of the group went out to a “Spot” or bar in a gas station. I was skeptical at first – a bar in a gas station? But it turned out to be one of the biggest parties in the city! There was a huge crowd of mostly Netherlands supporters (the Ghana team publicly supported the Netherlands, so they were the country’s favorite). I and most of the group rooted for Spain, mostly because the two Spaniard med students were really into the game. VIVA ESPANA!
That Saturday my ProWorld group went to a Ghanaian drum/dance lesson, which was pretty fantastic. Mike would have really enjoyed the drumming lessons – we actually got pretty good!
I went to Elmina, a large fishing town about a half hour from Cape Coast, and have finally met Kathy Weir. George Weir (an alumnus of Phi Psi at Case Western) and his wife Kathy started a foundation called Tomorrow’s Stars that directly built a school called Christ Cares and funds two others, Edinaman and Bantuma. We explored the last day of the Elmina festival, which celebrates the end of the seasonal fishing ban. I saw the royal families and chiefs, decked out in some of the most expensive bling I’ve ever seen – big gold necklaces, crowns, and bracelets, and they were carried in lavish recliners balanced on the heads of specially qualified subjects.
I met a few Tomorrow’s Stars students while hanging with Kathy. Rudolph is a very studious and naturally curious student of the sciences who will begin university next year to study herbal medicines. Richard is a very down to earth and fun person to be with, studying communication and business. Francis is a generous and compassionate guy who works as an accountant in the bank. They all went out of their way to make me feel at home, and were really friendly.
A quick side note – I saw a mind-numbing TV show called “Sound Splash”. It’s a live concert of several artists on the channel One Africa. The show started off with a hit gospel singer who is well-known by at least my host mother. It was immediately apparent that she was lip-syncing – she tried saying something into the microphone and it didn’t register, but she was singing just fine prior. She was followed by a police officer who sang reggae, a hip-hop dance crew, and a Ghanaian rapper (its REALLY funny to listen to Fanti rap - I swear it's all vowel sounds). The gospel singer was the clear crowd favorite, although the best part was the backup dancers for the rapper. He had two white women behind him, awkwardly moving somewhat rhythmically but clearly out of place dancing in front of an all-black audience who enjoy gospel and could probably outdance either of them blindfolded. Since the rap was in Fanti, they probably didn’t understand the lyrics either, but they still received a standing ovation after the show. Such is the power of the Obruni, and the inanity of Ghanaian television.
Yesterday the ProWorld group trekked to Kakum Park and took a huge nature hike, replete with a gravity-defying rope bridge canopy walk. While walking along the bridge I tried not to think back on the Indiana Jones, Pirates of the Caribbean, and million other movies where the ropes snap and the travelers are left with an unfortunate drop. Our tour guide seemed to know just about every fact about every tree in the rainforest, and gave us very cool details on how to prepare them to make herbal remedies for just about any ailment. We also visited a monkey reservation for rescued Ghanaian wildlife, owned and operated by a Dutch woman.
The highlight of the day was definitely the World Cup. Some of the group went out to a “Spot” or bar in a gas station. I was skeptical at first – a bar in a gas station? But it turned out to be one of the biggest parties in the city! There was a huge crowd of mostly Netherlands supporters (the Ghana team publicly supported the Netherlands, so they were the country’s favorite). I and most of the group rooted for Spain, mostly because the two Spaniard med students were really into the game. VIVA ESPANA!
The State of My Love Life
I work at Love Life, an NGO dedicated to education and prevention of HIV/AIDS, with an additional mission of advocating family planning. Yeah, all of that meant nothing to me either when I was first coming here...it makes a lot more sense now. My boss is Fati, an ex-radio DJ and a huge fan of “loving life” – her motto for everything she does. I’m working for the first two weeks with two other interns from Missouri University, Matt and Tess, both of whom are really fun to travel with and are really enthusiastic about our internship. At my first real day at work, Fati, Matt, Tess, and I traveled to the Elmina Prenatal Clinic to educate and screen the pregnant mothers. As part of their prenatal checkup routine, women would form a line outside of our door and one by one we would ask them about what they knew about HIV. Some knew a lot from school, others knew absolutely nothing except that it kills everyone who has it. Our goal was to make them understand that it’s important to keep both them and their children HIV-free. Many of the mothers were 16-20, and those that were older had already had four or more children. We would ask them if they had ever considered using family planning and encourage these options. Then we’d administer an HIV test (just a thumb prick and a chemical solution, kind of like a pregnancy test but without the happy face). Fortunately there haven’t been any positives yet!
We then visited an AIDS patient living with Love Life’s assistance. She lives in a village consisting entirely of a school, a church, and 30 concrete huts. She is a single mother with four children, and her house is the bare minimum – a bedsheet for a door, no mosquito nets and no window shades or mesh. It was heartbreaking to listen to her as she explains that she has only told her eldest daughter about her condition, and the other children wonder why she cries so often. The only assistance we could give her today were some groceries and some people she could talk to openly – few people in the village know she has AIDS and nobody can know what she’s going through. Save for a few tears, she maintains a positive attitude throughout the meeting and jokes about how I will marry her and give her treatment in America.
As we’re walking back to our taxi, school lets out and all of the kids go wild at the sight of us obrunis in their village. They clamor for a picture, demanding to see themselves on the camera and totally overwhelming all of us. Amidst their adamant demands for photos, a bookbag just like mine, and requests for American dollars, I eventually broke free and went home feeling exhausted after a very full day.
After returning from Love Life, I (Canon point’n’shoot) went out on a photo excursion through downtown with Olivia (Nikon D20) and Arthur (Canon SLR). After walking through the markets cataloguing the chaos, we moved to the side streets. There we got to see another side of Cape – the residential area, where people sit outside and socialize after work and kids play football in small lots. We climbed to the top of an old but newly renovated church, and from the top of the bell tower we could see the entire city. It was a very welcome reprieve from the claustrophobia of the city and the smells of the open sewage. The lighting around 5 provided very dramatic shadows and made for a surprisingly pretty scene; even though the city was economically depressed it survives and even thrives, a point of pride for all of Ghana.
Yes, it was a fantastic day. So of course, I had to return home to find the pipe for my bathroom sink busted and my entire bathroom flooded almost to the point of spilling into the bedroom...though Adina says there’s no permanent damage, there are noticeable water stains around the bathroom (no weird smells) and I have to use the shower faucet to wash my hands now.
On Friday in Love Life we went hunting for a woman who tested positive for HIV in May but from whom Love Life hadn’t heard from since. There was some real detective work at hand – we took this absolutely crazy taxi ride (70 km/hr down barely paved roads, avoiding potholes and people with no visibility around the fields of corn and pouring rain) to an even more remote village than our first patient. We asked around and found her sister who led us to her grandmother, who warmly greeted us as she told us she hadn't a clue where her granddaughter was. She still treated us like royalty: we got our own stools under a bamboo shed while all of the village kids who weren’t in school had to stand outside and ogle us the obrunis. Eventually, our patient came back from her farm and we had a conversation about her health and future. She had retested positive and so had her husband, so she was willing to start medication immediately provided Love Life pay for it and transportation to/from the hospital. She seemed very resigned and depressed about the illnesses she’s been experiencing, so we will arrange for a meeting between her and patient #1 so that she can understand that there is life with HIV.
After the meeting we walked to the adjacent village to give impromptu educational HIV discussions with the people there. We started at a bus stop, answering questions and posing some questions ourselves. Only a few spoke English so Fati had to translate any questions Matt, Tess, or I had. We distributed pamphlets and condoms, and suddenly we were swarmed by people. It was suggested we ask the “Queen Mother” of the village for permission to use the community center for a presentation. After sitting with the tribal royalty and discussing the importance of talking about sex with young teenagers, she grants us permission and a messenger runs through the village to gather people for the sudden meeting. Fati leads the presentation entirely in Fante, and the white people were used almost exclusively to draw and hold people’s attention. By including Americans in the AIDS education, it proved that we not only care about changing the current state of affairs but also emphasized that AIDS is a disease that affects everyone, and I think the villagers appreciated this. I could tell by their faces that the crowd really learned a lot from Fati’s lesson, and I went home exhausted but excited.
We took a tro-tro back from the village. I had already taken a tro-tro from the Accra airport on Day 1, but that was chartered. This public transit vehicle had seats that were screwed to wood planks not attached in any way to the floor; the seats were kept from sliding around by only static friction and the massive weight of all of the passengers. Some people had to hang onto the side of the van because there was in fact ZERO space in the vehicle. I’m convinced we only got back safely because of the constant prayers that everyone on the tro-tro seemed to be muttering under their breaths.
Friday night I went out to the Elmina Beach Resort with Fati and friends. Ghana has a decent clubbing scene, and we rocked out to reggae til very late in the night. I got back at 1:30AM to find my house gate was chained shut from the inside! I tried knocking, called Adina, and then frantically called Kirsty. I almost tried climbing up and over when apparently all the noise I was causing woke one of the tenants and I was let in.
We then visited an AIDS patient living with Love Life’s assistance. She lives in a village consisting entirely of a school, a church, and 30 concrete huts. She is a single mother with four children, and her house is the bare minimum – a bedsheet for a door, no mosquito nets and no window shades or mesh. It was heartbreaking to listen to her as she explains that she has only told her eldest daughter about her condition, and the other children wonder why she cries so often. The only assistance we could give her today were some groceries and some people she could talk to openly – few people in the village know she has AIDS and nobody can know what she’s going through. Save for a few tears, she maintains a positive attitude throughout the meeting and jokes about how I will marry her and give her treatment in America.
As we’re walking back to our taxi, school lets out and all of the kids go wild at the sight of us obrunis in their village. They clamor for a picture, demanding to see themselves on the camera and totally overwhelming all of us. Amidst their adamant demands for photos, a bookbag just like mine, and requests for American dollars, I eventually broke free and went home feeling exhausted after a very full day.
After returning from Love Life, I (Canon point’n’shoot) went out on a photo excursion through downtown with Olivia (Nikon D20) and Arthur (Canon SLR). After walking through the markets cataloguing the chaos, we moved to the side streets. There we got to see another side of Cape – the residential area, where people sit outside and socialize after work and kids play football in small lots. We climbed to the top of an old but newly renovated church, and from the top of the bell tower we could see the entire city. It was a very welcome reprieve from the claustrophobia of the city and the smells of the open sewage. The lighting around 5 provided very dramatic shadows and made for a surprisingly pretty scene; even though the city was economically depressed it survives and even thrives, a point of pride for all of Ghana.
Yes, it was a fantastic day. So of course, I had to return home to find the pipe for my bathroom sink busted and my entire bathroom flooded almost to the point of spilling into the bedroom...though Adina says there’s no permanent damage, there are noticeable water stains around the bathroom (no weird smells) and I have to use the shower faucet to wash my hands now.
On Friday in Love Life we went hunting for a woman who tested positive for HIV in May but from whom Love Life hadn’t heard from since. There was some real detective work at hand – we took this absolutely crazy taxi ride (70 km/hr down barely paved roads, avoiding potholes and people with no visibility around the fields of corn and pouring rain) to an even more remote village than our first patient. We asked around and found her sister who led us to her grandmother, who warmly greeted us as she told us she hadn't a clue where her granddaughter was. She still treated us like royalty: we got our own stools under a bamboo shed while all of the village kids who weren’t in school had to stand outside and ogle us the obrunis. Eventually, our patient came back from her farm and we had a conversation about her health and future. She had retested positive and so had her husband, so she was willing to start medication immediately provided Love Life pay for it and transportation to/from the hospital. She seemed very resigned and depressed about the illnesses she’s been experiencing, so we will arrange for a meeting between her and patient #1 so that she can understand that there is life with HIV.
After the meeting we walked to the adjacent village to give impromptu educational HIV discussions with the people there. We started at a bus stop, answering questions and posing some questions ourselves. Only a few spoke English so Fati had to translate any questions Matt, Tess, or I had. We distributed pamphlets and condoms, and suddenly we were swarmed by people. It was suggested we ask the “Queen Mother” of the village for permission to use the community center for a presentation. After sitting with the tribal royalty and discussing the importance of talking about sex with young teenagers, she grants us permission and a messenger runs through the village to gather people for the sudden meeting. Fati leads the presentation entirely in Fante, and the white people were used almost exclusively to draw and hold people’s attention. By including Americans in the AIDS education, it proved that we not only care about changing the current state of affairs but also emphasized that AIDS is a disease that affects everyone, and I think the villagers appreciated this. I could tell by their faces that the crowd really learned a lot from Fati’s lesson, and I went home exhausted but excited.
We took a tro-tro back from the village. I had already taken a tro-tro from the Accra airport on Day 1, but that was chartered. This public transit vehicle had seats that were screwed to wood planks not attached in any way to the floor; the seats were kept from sliding around by only static friction and the massive weight of all of the passengers. Some people had to hang onto the side of the van because there was in fact ZERO space in the vehicle. I’m convinced we only got back safely because of the constant prayers that everyone on the tro-tro seemed to be muttering under their breaths.
Friday night I went out to the Elmina Beach Resort with Fati and friends. Ghana has a decent clubbing scene, and we rocked out to reggae til very late in the night. I got back at 1:30AM to find my house gate was chained shut from the inside! I tried knocking, called Adina, and then frantically called Kirsty. I almost tried climbing up and over when apparently all the noise I was causing woke one of the tenants and I was let in.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Wow life without internet sucks...
Okay definitely meant to send this out 5 days ago. But the good news: I finally found an internet cafe that's open after 7 and provides reliable internet, without trying to give me some kind of crazy African computer virus.
Anyway, the long-overdue info on my host family:
When Adina (my host mom) and I arrived by taxi to her house, we were enthusiastically greeted by her adopted son Isaac. She and Isaac live on the second floor of a big two story home (huge by Ghanain standards) with her elderly mother, and she rents out the first floor to about three people (I really can't tell who lives here and who doesn't, there are so many people coming in and out that I lose track). Don't worry Mom, the house is very safe - I have my own room and bathroom with a key and ceiling fan. The house is open to the outdoors, meaning I have to put on DEET everytime I want to get food (30% Deet is the stuff that scares the wings off of mosquitoes without giving me cancer). When I open my door i look into the courtyard below and the city skyline beyond, which is pretty fantastic. One thing that really takes some getting used to is the cold showers. As in, much MUCH colder than my grandma's swimming pool. This is good in the afternoons, but I'm a morning showerer, meaning a very shocking wake up experience every morning.
Adina is a very kind and happy woman, though sometimes reserved and quiet. She works as a general contractor, landlady, church deaconess, and chef, to name a few of her occupations. She has three children, all adults, and two adopted children - I mentioned Isaac but she named another adopted child who "travels a lot", I haven't met him/her and don't fully understand what she means. She also has this weird "I know better than you do" complex about spicy foods - I'm from Texas and I can handle spicy!
Isaac is 17, but is nothing at all like my brother Mike. He's very shy and speaks very rarely, and when he does it's only about football or food. We naturally bonded over the Spain-Paraguay game (he was rooting for Spain, I couldn't care less so of course I rooted for Spain too), and he seemed to open up a little when I asked him about his favorite movies - he loves kung fu so I promised to show him Shaolin Soccer. Having never used a computer before, I've started teaching him how to type and he's picked it up really quickly. His first full typed sentence was "Ghana is the greatest football team I nowe [sic]". We just watched Spain-Germany, where Spain rocked in the second half and he literally jumped out of his seat in excitement.
Everyone in Ghana uses a taxi to get anywhere - very few people own cars. Some taxi updates: The taxi drivers are some of the most creative people in the history of ever. I've been in taxis that have likely been on the precipice between barely functional and chaotic twisted-metal fireball for the last 10 years. I was in one two days ago that didn't have a closing right rear door, so the man used a sugarcane contraption to strap the door shut and passengers only entered through the other side. I was in another where the horn stopped working, so the driver rewired the horn to the windshield wipers, so that clicking the wiper stick would make the horn go. Clearly he has his priorities skewed; horn over windshields? But that is the way driving goes in Ghana - drivers will honk at just about anything, and just because they honk at you doesn't mean they won't hit you if you don't get the heck out of their way.
One more note on taxis: they all have some kind of religious phrase on the back of their car. I've been keeping a list of the good ones: "Vote for Jesus", "Touch the Jesus", "I Will Avenge Thy Name", etc. Pretty awesome.
I live within walking distance of the largest market in Ghana, where everyone seems to be selling me just what I'm looking for - even the lady's undergarment vendor. It's a claustrophobia-inducing experience, where the two-lane streets are overtaken by pedestrians and taxis will literally sit on their horns trying to get through a one-lane space. Everything is very affordable and prices are extremely bargainable - always ask for half the price and work your way up from there.
The confusing part about dealing with vendors is they don't know the value of their own currency - seriously. The value of the cedi was changed in 2007, when they removed 4 zeroes from the old value to make the "new cedi". However, not everyone got the news. I asked for the price of an article of clothes, and the vendor said "20", meaning "20,000" but it was actually 2. GAAAAAH!
I watched a "Nollywood" film the other day (Nigerian Hollywood). With a red-tinted video quality and muffled sounds, it easily was 30x worse than any chick flick film in existence (challenge!). A quick synopsis: A film opens with a man beating and choking his wife, very fakely. The wife's mother walks in and sees. She pulls her daughter aside and tells her, "I know you must hate him, but for my sake you have to forgive him." Why this lady owes anything like that to her mother is beyond me, but of course she forgives him, and the plot subsequently deteriorates from there. Good for a joking "Oh my god why did I just waste an hour and a half of my life" moment without the Star Wars Christmas Special aftertaste.
Okay, running low on time at the internet cafe, so I have to peace. Next time I'll talk about my job, and what I'm doing day-to-day.
Anyway, the long-overdue info on my host family:
When Adina (my host mom) and I arrived by taxi to her house, we were enthusiastically greeted by her adopted son Isaac. She and Isaac live on the second floor of a big two story home (huge by Ghanain standards) with her elderly mother, and she rents out the first floor to about three people (I really can't tell who lives here and who doesn't, there are so many people coming in and out that I lose track). Don't worry Mom, the house is very safe - I have my own room and bathroom with a key and ceiling fan. The house is open to the outdoors, meaning I have to put on DEET everytime I want to get food (30% Deet is the stuff that scares the wings off of mosquitoes without giving me cancer). When I open my door i look into the courtyard below and the city skyline beyond, which is pretty fantastic. One thing that really takes some getting used to is the cold showers. As in, much MUCH colder than my grandma's swimming pool. This is good in the afternoons, but I'm a morning showerer, meaning a very shocking wake up experience every morning.
Adina is a very kind and happy woman, though sometimes reserved and quiet. She works as a general contractor, landlady, church deaconess, and chef, to name a few of her occupations. She has three children, all adults, and two adopted children - I mentioned Isaac but she named another adopted child who "travels a lot", I haven't met him/her and don't fully understand what she means. She also has this weird "I know better than you do" complex about spicy foods - I'm from Texas and I can handle spicy!
Isaac is 17, but is nothing at all like my brother Mike. He's very shy and speaks very rarely, and when he does it's only about football or food. We naturally bonded over the Spain-Paraguay game (he was rooting for Spain, I couldn't care less so of course I rooted for Spain too), and he seemed to open up a little when I asked him about his favorite movies - he loves kung fu so I promised to show him Shaolin Soccer. Having never used a computer before, I've started teaching him how to type and he's picked it up really quickly. His first full typed sentence was "Ghana is the greatest football team I nowe [sic]". We just watched Spain-Germany, where Spain rocked in the second half and he literally jumped out of his seat in excitement.
Everyone in Ghana uses a taxi to get anywhere - very few people own cars. Some taxi updates: The taxi drivers are some of the most creative people in the history of ever. I've been in taxis that have likely been on the precipice between barely functional and chaotic twisted-metal fireball for the last 10 years. I was in one two days ago that didn't have a closing right rear door, so the man used a sugarcane contraption to strap the door shut and passengers only entered through the other side. I was in another where the horn stopped working, so the driver rewired the horn to the windshield wipers, so that clicking the wiper stick would make the horn go. Clearly he has his priorities skewed; horn over windshields? But that is the way driving goes in Ghana - drivers will honk at just about anything, and just because they honk at you doesn't mean they won't hit you if you don't get the heck out of their way.
One more note on taxis: they all have some kind of religious phrase on the back of their car. I've been keeping a list of the good ones: "Vote for Jesus", "Touch the Jesus", "I Will Avenge Thy Name", etc. Pretty awesome.
I live within walking distance of the largest market in Ghana, where everyone seems to be selling me just what I'm looking for - even the lady's undergarment vendor. It's a claustrophobia-inducing experience, where the two-lane streets are overtaken by pedestrians and taxis will literally sit on their horns trying to get through a one-lane space. Everything is very affordable and prices are extremely bargainable - always ask for half the price and work your way up from there.
The confusing part about dealing with vendors is they don't know the value of their own currency - seriously. The value of the cedi was changed in 2007, when they removed 4 zeroes from the old value to make the "new cedi". However, not everyone got the news. I asked for the price of an article of clothes, and the vendor said "20", meaning "20,000" but it was actually 2. GAAAAAH!
I watched a "Nollywood" film the other day (Nigerian Hollywood). With a red-tinted video quality and muffled sounds, it easily was 30x worse than any chick flick film in existence (challenge!). A quick synopsis: A film opens with a man beating and choking his wife, very fakely. The wife's mother walks in and sees. She pulls her daughter aside and tells her, "I know you must hate him, but for my sake you have to forgive him." Why this lady owes anything like that to her mother is beyond me, but of course she forgives him, and the plot subsequently deteriorates from there. Good for a joking "Oh my god why did I just waste an hour and a half of my life" moment without the Star Wars Christmas Special aftertaste.
Okay, running low on time at the internet cafe, so I have to peace. Next time I'll talk about my job, and what I'm doing day-to-day.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Day 1
This blog is written for two reasons: 1) to tell my family and friends just what the heck I’m doing in Africa and 2) to provide those interested in travelling to Ghana some information that might prepare them for such a trip
My name is Andrew Franco, and I’m on a 6-week ProWorld internship in Cape Coast, Ghana.
I arrived in Accra yesterday, jetlagged and anxious after an 11 hour flight following a 5 hour layover in DC after a 3 hour flight from Houston, my hometown. I had met many of the people in the ProWorld program in DC, and we were friendly (albeit cranky) by the time we landed in Ghana. The airport in Accra is pleasant, with air conditioning and an electric luggage turnstyle. The terminal entrance was decked out in Ghana football colors and travelers walked through a cut open goal post to get to their luggage (the Ghana team had lost the world cup game to Uruguay the day prior…either nobody alerted the airport decoration committee, or the Ghanaians were too proud to take down the elaborate decorations yet). Going through customs was a breeze for us “obrunis” (foreigners), as they only seem to check black people’s luggage (even Akhil got through without any suspicion of terrorism).
We met Kofi and the Nameless Driver at the main entrance to the airport. A group of obvious tourists, we were immediately inundated by people offering to help carry our luggage to the bus in exchange for American dollars, Ghanaian cedi, or even a flashlight. I held onto my stuff just fine. We packed all of our luggage into the bus (actually a large van that seats 8 comfortably, max occupancy somewhere around 25) and we were off.
The Nameless Driver started easily enough, flooring it out of the parking lot and cutting off 5 taxis. The engine was maybe 3-cylinders, so he would accelerate exclusively in first gear to get up to speed (though that wouldn’t stop him from cutting off and tailgating other cars). The maximum gear he used was third, and that was only at 50-80 km/hr (I’m not a very good judge of metric speed, and his speedometer was broken). I was caught in the bitch seat between Lucas and Akhil, tossed around every which way around every turn and bump in the road (there were several). There were what could only be described as vestigial remnants of what might have been seatbelts, now shredded and converted into a knotted handle, good for gripping around tight turns but of no use in any other case. As we traveled through Accra, we saw the typical African scenes: women balancing large items on their heads with babies wrapped to their backs, men trying to sell you a refrigerator from your car, and children running circles around their parents. Every intersection had a large group of street merchants, trying to get you to buy bagged water (purified water in a bag), FanIce (tasty ice-cream) or nuts, fruits, or veggies. Accra is a very Christian city, and the backs of every ambulance had a proverb or an epithet such as, “Be Leave in Jesus”, “You Could Die Today…Are you Absolved?”, and “Vote for Jesus”. There were billboards for the presidential election (either the 2008 or the the 2012 one, I couldn’t tell) that had presidential candidates photoshopped (or just cut and paste) next to Obama. Once we got out of the city, I was amazed by the pretty the rolling hills, filled with large grasslands and great big trees. The entire road from Accra to Cape Coast was lined by markets and vendors and small homes. We even passed by Kofi’s house. We saw speed warnings that read, “Do not overspeed, at least 20 people died here” with a subsign “sponsored by Toyota” (it’s funny because Toyotas don’t brake, by the way). Apparently the problem here wasn’t speeding, it was overspeeding. What cracked me up the most about our journey was that the Nameless Driver didn’t say a word the entire time, but he would shout, wave, and honk at some of the cars we would cut off. Akhil asked Kofi what he was saying to them, and Kofi told us that he knew the drivers. I’m skeptical to believe that
After a two and a half hour drive, we finally arrived at the ProWorld office in Cape Coast. We met Kirsty the Scottish Project Coordinator and got phones and transportation money. I met Adina my host mother and went to her house.
I have to go now (it’s 8:30AM, time for orientation!), but more on my host family and house soon…with pictures!
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