A weekend away

I’ve still been getting headaches. Early in the week they were worse, but for the past few days they haven’t been as long or as painful. I think they’re caused by anxiety. It’s SO unlike me! I’m usually really easy-going and happy-go-lucky, but lately I’ve felt anxiety, and I’m not even sure why. When I arrive at school to find a classroom of noisy, disrespectful students who won’t listen, I feel terribly overwhelmed and stressed out. It’s weird and annoying and needs to stop. Today was actually much better, so that’s good. :)

In this past week since I last wrote, there were a few days that I felt such anxiety that all I could do to cheer myself up was to go out to the shopping mall and lose myself in the bookstore before treating myself to a nice cup of coffee or a milkshake. I think a part of my problem was my impending exodus from the country, having to leave by 30th June but not being sure of where I would go or how much it would cost.

Yesterday, I stopped by Ivory Coast’s embassy to apply for my visa. I have to go back tomorrow to pick it up. It was 5000 CFA. I had NO idea how much that would be in a currency with which I’m familiar, so I was nervous that it would be really expensive until I went to the Forex Bureau. 5000 CFA was only Gh¢16, which is about USD$12 or so. That’s not bad at all!

So it looks like I’ll be leaving Saturday. Right now I’m searching for a place to stay and trying to figure out how to get there. I’m kind of in a rush because Fred will be coming over any minute to hang out. Anyway, I don’t know if I’ll have a chance to come online before I leave for Côte d’Ivoire. I’m planning on spending a day or two in the Western Region of Ghana on my way back. We’re having a midterm break early next week, but school resumes on Thursday, so I’ll be back in Accra by Wednesday night. See you then?

Headaches

I’ve been getting headaches lately. Horrible! At times they can be so debilitating. I’m behind on correcting homework because I couldn’t concentrate today with this headahce. Today’s headache is one of the worst I’ve experienced here. I took some Motrin in the morning, but it didn’t help at all, so I took some Extra Strength Tylenol after lunch, which helped a little. Now it’s about 4:30 and my head is hurting really badly again. I don’t know why! I’ve been getting them a lot, and it sucks.

Another “headache:” On Monday night, Fred called and said he made a mistake, that actually, the Immigration Office only gave me 30 days extension. When I went to the office yesterday to pick it up, I saw that they had only extended it to 30th June! Somehow, Fred got “3 months” and then “30 days” from “30th June,” but it sucks. Now I have to go to Togo or Côte d’Ivoire before the end of the month. Oh, it would be nice to explore a new country, but it will be expensive, I’ll need to pay for a visa to get into these countries, and have to deal with exchanging the currency and finding a place to stay, etc.

Wow, I just realized how pessimistic that was. Headaches like the one I have now really alter my personality and make me hate the world. I should be happy to see a new country. Stop whining, Kate.

Okay, I think this is my cue to rest, which sucks because instead of getting things done, I’m stuck in bed. I hate headaches!

By the way...

I can’t believe that we are halfway through June!

Nor can I believe that we are halfway through the third and final term. Incredible! Time is passing too quickly.

Lights Off

Saturday was mostly a really shitty day for me. So many crappy, frustrating things happened to me that I called my sister Kara at 10 PM almost in tears and vented to her in a long rant that included more seven-letter adjectives beginning with “f” in the first ten minutes of our conversation than I’ve used the entire eight months I’ve been Ghana. Luckily for me, she’s such a great sister and listened quietly so that I was able to get most of it out so I don’t feel the need to burden my blog readers with every little detail.

Right now, as I’m writing this, I’m sitting in my room in the dark. One of the less crappy events of Saturday was a “lights off” (a power outage) that started at around eight in the morning and still affected the entire neighborhood when I came back to the house last night at a quarter to ten. The power was still out all of this morning into the afternoon. Now, I thought I was used to power outages. They’re quite common here in Accra, but they’ve become so much more common the past few weeks. When I first arrived, it felt like we experienced lights off once every week or two, at most two times in a week, and they usually lasted anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours, and usually during the day when I was at school and barely even noticed. Lately, as in for the past month or two, however, they’ve been occurring at least three times per week, and instead of depriving us of electricity for only an hour or two, the “lights off” of late last the entire day for twelve hours or so.

Oh, but yesterday’s lights off lasted all day, all night, and all day again, well over twenty-four hours. When there’s an all-day lights off on the weekend, I’ve discovered, I don’t have much choice but to leave the house. The heat becomes too much for me in the house without fans, so I went to the Accra mall after lunch and spent several hours browsing their air-conditioned bookstore. When I came back to the convent around 7:30, everything seemed to be well-lit, so I happily sat down for dinner. I noticed that the nuns weren’t watching TV, and I found out that we have “low current,” which means only half the house gets electricity. Upstairs (where my room is) is the half that doesn’t get it tonight. It’s my second night in a row groping around my room in the dark!

Okay, time to look on the bright side. What can be positive about not having electricity? I’ll tell you.

With the “low current,” the outlet in which the television is plugged wasn’t working, so instead of watching TV, the nuns had to find other ways of entertaining themselves. Sister Juliana was lying on the couch, reading aloud from the user manuel to the brand new treadmill they had purchased this morning (which was a gift from one of her friends... I’m telling you, these nuns get so many free things given to them, even treadmills!). It’s really cute how excited all the nuns are about this new exercise equipment, by the way. They call it their “chingalingy machine.” Haha!

Anyway, after Sister Julie finished reading it, she started saying the website. “W W W dot...” Sister Anne picked up, “dot com dot yahoo dot UK.” I started laughing. “No,” Sister Anne said, “W W W dot, what’s the name of the company? Try-jam?”

“Trojan,” Sister Juliana said, also mispronouncing it slightly, something more like traw-jen. “W W W dot Trojan dot com.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you making fun of the way we’re pronouncing it?” Sister Julie asked.

“Kind of,” I admitted, “and also, Trojan is also a name brand for another type of product...”

“Ah, you mean the condoms?” said Sister Julie, catching on quickly.

And the next thing I knew, we were all sharing our best condom stories. Of course, they were nuns, so the stories had to do with condom mix-ups, but still, we were talking and laughing about them. All I could think in my head was, “What the hell? I’m sitting at the dinner table in a convent in West Africa with five nuns chatting away about condoms!” It was one of those situations I never imagined myself getting into, something that completely added to the comedy and irony of my living situation and well, my life, I guess.

See? If Accra had electricity 24/7, we would have been doing something typical like watching the evening news. Now, thanks to low current, I have several funny nun condom stories to share with whomever is interested... just ask!

Trick

I’ve found a fun way to get the class’s attention when they’re making noise. :)

They’re kids. Sometimes the noise volume in my class becomes too high to teach, which frustrates me quite a bit, but now that I’ve found a method of quieting them, life is good.

I simply raise my hand in the air. The few who are paying attention to me will follow suit. Then I do things with my fingers, making different hand signals... one finger, two, three, four, five, thumbs up, thumbs down, just my pinky, just my index finger, all five fingers, spread apart, fingers closed, into a fist, open, waving, etc. Just silly little things. The kids paying attention try to copy what I’m doing. Once the talkatives realize what’s going on, they become quiet to concentrate on following my hand motions. When I can see that the whole class is quietly paying attention to whatever I’m doing with my hand, I swoop my arm around and bring one finger in front of my lips... “Shh!”

The next thing I know, the twenty-one Ghanaian school children in front of me have one finger to their lips, and all is quiet.

“Thank you. Now, back to the lesson...”

A true story

“Good morning, class. Hey! Please keep quiet. Please, be extra good today. I’m feeling so, so sick right now. I think I have a very bad cold. Can’t you hear my voice? I can’t shout. My head is paining me, and when you make noise, it makes it worse. I had to rest all morning, and I couldn’t teach 4B this morning, but since we didn’t have time for your classwork yesterday, we have to do it today. Please. If you’re quiet, I’ll tell you a story. It’s a true story of something that happened to me. Please, keep quiet and listen.

“Do you remember how I had to leave early on Friday to go to the immigration office? I had to go drop off my passport so they can fix my visa so I can stay. Do you remember when I got a phone call on Monday during class and had to leave? Let me tell you what happened.

“The lady there wanted to talk to me. She asked me why I was here in Ghana, and I told her, but she said I’ve been here too long, and I have to leave. She said I could only stay until 30th June.”

Cries of protest went up throughout the classroom.

“Shh! Keep quiet! I’m not finished with the story yet! If you make noise I won’t be able to tell you! Okay, that’s better. Well, I told her my plane ticket is for 27th July, and that I needed to finish teaching you English until the end of the term. She didn’t care. I begged and pleaded with her, ‘Please! Please! Please!’ but she didn’t care. She said she was sacking me from Ghana. She would only let me stay until 30th June, and if I stayed longer, they might put me in jail or something.

“Oh, you don’t know how upset I was! I was crying! But still, she said, ‘No.’ When I walked to the trotro, I was crying the whole time. I don’t want to leave yet!”

Their faces were grave as most of them listened silently. A few looked like they were about to be sick. Akyena pretended to cry.

“Shh! The story isn’t finished yet! I was so upset that I cried on the trotro and I stopped by Shoprite to eat some ice cream so I would feel better, and I sat crying eating ice cream...” Some of the class thought this was really funny, and laughed out loud. Most were too anxious to know the final outcome to laugh, and quickly shushed the offenders.

“I called my friend Fred, and told him what happened, and he said he’d call his friend who worked there. They thought it might be possible for me to go and come to Togo or Côte d’Ivoire, but we weren’t sure. So I didn’t know if I could stay until 27th July or if I’d have to leave early on 30th June.”

“Oh! Miss Kate!” I heard.

“But then, this morning, when I was in the house, resting because I’m sick, I got a phone call from Fred. He said he had just talked to Evelyn, his friend at the office, and she said they’re still working on it, but they don’t know yet.”

The little faces looking up at me were grave and serious, particularly those belonging to my favorite students. I smiled.

“Then, about 30 minutes later, when I was still at the house in my bed, resting, Fred called me back... and he said... ‘Congratulations! They’re extending your visitor’s permit.’ That means I can stay!”

A great cheer of victory went up, and several students got out of their chairs and danced around happily. I felt very loved. I didn’t tell them that they had given me another three-month extension. If I had told them that, they would have wanted me to stay longer, until September 7th, but I’m definitely set on touching down at LAX on July 28th. I’m lucky to be friends with Fred, who is friends with Evelyn, who took my case to a senior consular to get the job done. Very lucky. I’m also very happy that I don’t have to leave early!

“Miss Kate! Question. How long will you stay in Ghana? Forever?” Ohemaa asked hopefully.

“No, sweetie, only until 27th July, and I’m so lucky I can stay that long! They wanted to sack me out at the end of June! But now, I can stay until 27th July. I’m so happy! But I’m still sick. So please, keep quiet. Kwabena, sit down! Priest, stop drumming! Shh.... okay. Once everyone is quiet, we can begin our classwork. Thank you. Who remembers what we learned yesterday about prepositions?”

Expat woes

During my first English class this morning, I received a call from the immigration office telling me I needed to come in for an interview, which had never happened to me before. I had dropped off my passport on Friday to get another extension on my visitor’s permit to make my stay in Ghana legal. Usually I just drop off my passport with Fred’s friend Evelyn, and she takes care of everything for me and calls me up when it’s finished.

I left right after lunch, and arrived at the office at 1:30. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I thought she’d just ask me a few questions, smile, and hand me my passport. I stopped by the Western Europe office where Evelyn works, and she directed me to the lady I needed to see, telling me that she wanted to know when I was leaving.

The lady sat me down in front of her desk and asked me what I was doing in Ghana for so long. I tried to explain, but she told me that I’ve been here too long and I have to leave. Visitor’s permits are only supposed to last 6 months, and she wouldn’t grant me another extension. I pulled out a copy of my itinerary for my flight home, promising her that I’ll leave on 27th July. She didn’t care. That was too long, she said. She said she’d give me ‘til the end of the month, and then I had to be out of here. So what if my plane ticket doesn’t leave until the end of July? I’ll just have to change it. So what if my students won’t have an English teacher? There are plenty of teachers in Ghana who could replace me.

I’m still surprised by my reaction, because it’s something I normally never do in front of strangers: I started crying. I never cry in front of strangers. I hardly ever cry in front of my best friends! I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve cried in front of my best friends, but strangers? I guess I was in such a state of shock and so upset that I didn’t know what to do. I pleaded with her to let me stay, just one extra month! But, no! She was adamant. My time is up. She’d give me until June 30th, no later. I pleaded and pleaded, but she told me she was through with me wanted to eat her lunch. I should just get out now.

“But, my visa is for two years!” I pointed out. “Why can’t I stay?”

“It’s a multiple-entry visa, to come and go,” she said. “You can’t just stay here for more than 6 months straight.”

“What if I go and come? If I go to Côte d’Ivoire or Togo, and come back? It’s multiple-entry, so I can come and go for two years!”

She considered this for a few minutes, but I think I had already pissed her off enough, so she said, “No. Only if you go to the United States and come back.” F***ing bitch!

She kicked me out of her office, foreshadowing my being kicked out of the country.

I tried to calm myself down, and went back to the Western Europe office.

“Did she give you an extension?” asked Evelyn.

“No!” I said, trying to keep my voice level and the tears from leaking out of my eyes. “But would it work if I go to Côte d’Ivoire or Togo and come back?”

“If you do that, they’ll give you a new stamp that allows you to stay for 60 more days,” she said. I wondered who was right, her or the bitch of an officer who “helped” me.

I was still crying as I walked the few blocks to the nearest bus stop. I can’t tell you how upset the prospect of abandoning my students makes me feel! I promised them I’d stay until 27th July! I can’t leave them early! I needed to talk to someone, but I knew I’d get no sympathy from my American friends, who miss me and want me to come home as soon as possible. So I took out my phone and called Fred. I cried to him as I walked, telling him my problems. He told me he’d call me back in 5 minutes.

I decided to stop by the Accra Shopping Mall on the way back. After the merde of a day I just had, I deserved ice cream. As I was about to get off the trotro, I received a call from Fred. He had called Evelyn, and repeated what she said about visiting a neighboring country. Fred said he had a friend in or near Togo who could help me get over the border and come back in with a new stamp allowing me to stay for an extra 60 days. I shouldn’t worry, he said. “Let me see you smile!” (how on earth could I let him see me smile over the phone?)

I spent about an hour browsing the bookstore, which calmed me down quite a bit. I had two scoops of ice cream from Frankie’s, crunchy hazelnut and chocolate. It was served like gelato, except soooo not as good. Oh well, ice cream is ice cream, right? I wasn’t satisfied, so I also bought a little coconut cake. Then I was calm enough to go back to the house.

I “can’t wait” to go home and see everyone again. When I say that, what I mean is I’m really looking forward to going home... but I can wait. I’m not ready to go just yet. I still have 7 weeks left with my students. There is still so much more I need to teach them about English and French and life. I’m counting down the days until I can see everyone again (50 days left!), but I still need these days I’m counting down if I want to finish everything I want to do in Ghana. I want to leave on July 27th, not one day earlier, not one day later. That’s why I am determined to do this legally. The only thing that could possibly be worse than having to leave early would be if they detained me at the airport and I was late coming home.

I think that Evelyn was right about how I can leave to Togo or Ivory Coast and come back and be fine, but that bitchy lady did say otherwise, so I’m not 100% sure. I’m looking into it right now. So, I guess it’s possible that I’ll be seeing you at the end of June, but, (please don’t take offense to this) I hope I don’t.

My African Union Day Weekend in the Volta Region!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words... here are 60,000 words for you.

What I think I should do and what I really want to do

Sometimes, what I think I should do and what I want to do are two different things. Which should I go with? What I think I should do, or what I really want?

I’m having to make some serious decisions about my future that will affect the course of my life. One of my best friends who was counseling me pointed out my problem: I’m torn between what I think I should do and what I really want. She recommended that I go for what I really want. I think that’s a marvelous idea.

I want to apply this same principle to blogging. I haven’t been blogging very much at all lately because I feel like I should write about certain experiences like my safari, the wedding, my three-day weekend, etc, but I don’t really want to write about that right now. So much has happened! Whenever I sit down to start, I become overwhelmed by everything I want to say, and this task of describing the indescribable feels too monumental, so I end up not writing at all. Writing becomes something I feel like I “have” to do, not something I want to do.

So... I won’t write about my travels yet. I’ll write about whatever is on my mind, which lately has had more to do with my students and my mixed feelings about leaving than my travels. When I’m in the mood to write about my travels, I will. If I end up writing a book about Ghana (you never know, it could happen someday), they would definitely find their way into there, so you’ll just have to buy the book! If not... ask me about it when I come home, and I’ll tell you all about it in person! Wouldn’t that be even better? I’ll post pictures soon, hopefully, and give you the link, but in the meantime, I’m going to do what I really want to do. I missed lunch today, so right now, I really want to eat dinner. Bye!

It's a holiday in Ghana, too

There was no school today! Apparently, it’s African Union Day, a public holiday. No one knew this until Friday morning. So, I decided on Friday afternoon to spend my 3-day weekend traveling. It was great! I’ll write more about it in detail when I have the chance, but for now, let me just say one thing I did...

This morning, when I woke up, I went outside with a bag of bananas. I stood next to a tree and held the banana up, close to the branches. Little monkeys came out of the tree, peeled each banana as I held it, and ate it.

It was incredible! Pictures and details to follow!

Amazing times five

I woke up before five to go jogging every day this week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Do you realize how amazing that is? Me, Kate Deaton, jogging every morning for a week? I was VERY sore the first few days, but I’m finally feeling better. I actually like it! I feel great! I’m hoping to keep it up for as long as possible, but I know once the rainy season starts it won’t always be possible with all the mud. I’m planning on sleeping in tomorrow and Sunday and hitting the streets again on Monday morning. I WILL become chingalingy before July. Wish me luck!

Thank you

The first class was horrible. I was tired with a short temper and shouted way too much at the kids. There were those four boys who always talk and cause trouble. They made me so upset, and one in particular was being so disrespectful I seriously wanted to cry.

When I went to teach my second English class of the day, I was feeling down and discouraged. I walked in two minutes early and asked the kids please to be extra good today. I had a stack of graded exercise books in my hands, and I went from desk to desk passing them out while we waited for the bell to be rung. I didn’t smile the entire time until something simple yet wonderful happened.

When I reached Ohemaa’s desk, and placed her homework book on her table, she looked up at me with a smile and said, “Thank you.”

Thank you. Such simple words. Sometimes “thank yous” are just a formality, but at other times, they can mean SO much more.

I had been kind of rushing from desk to desk, but when Ohemaa said that, I stopped. For the first time in hours, I smiled. “You’re welcome,” I said.

Lisa sits right behind Ohemaa. She also thanked me, and I also stopped and smiled when she said that. I continued passing out the homework books, but the only other student to thank me was Asabea.

Those three students with their three little “thank yous” really made a difference in my day. They didn’t have to thank me – I was just returning their homework books! – but their thoughtfulness put three big smiles on my face and gave me the drive to make it through another class.

Ohemaa stopped by my desk at closing, and I pulled her aside and told her how much her “thank you” meant to me. I explained how sad and unappreciated I had been feeling, but how her thoughtfulness and appreciation had made me feel so happy. “Thank you for saying ‘thank you!’” I said.

She just smiled really big and wrapped her little arms around me in a huge hug. I whispered into her ear, “This is why I think you’re an angel!” and she squeezed me tighter.

It was some form of karma, I’m sure. I say “thank you” all the time for little things like that, too, but I never thought it could make such a difference in someone’s day. I mean, I’m sure it doesn’t always matter to people to hear it, but maybe that waiter was having a really bad day or something, and maybe when I thank him for bringing the water, it could put a smile on his face. I’m glad I say “thank you” so much because now, when I most needed it, my kindness came back to me. Anyway, just keep this in mind the next time someone does something nice for you, however small. Your “thank you” could make a huge difference in his or her day like Ohemaa’s, Lisa’s, and Asabea’s “thank yous” did in mine!

A brand new experience!

Today I did something that I’ve NEVER done before. It’s something that I never in a million years pictured myself doing.

I woke up early, at about ten to five, and – ready for this? – went jogging!!!

Me, yes, ME, Kate Deaton, on the streets of Haatso at 5:05 AM with my iPod, jogging! Do you have any idea how groundbreaking that is? First of all, I hate getting up early, and secondly, I hate jogging. What on earth, then, could prompt me to do something so ridiculous?

I’m not sure why, but I wanted to go. I know I never would have done it if I really didn’t want to. Some strange, uncharacteristic impulse made me do it. For 23 years, I’ve never had the slightest desire to something so crazy, but today it was there. Perhaps the deeper reason is that I’m very determined to become chingalingy (slim) before I come home. I’m feeling a little obolo (fat) right now. Or maybe a girl who is stupid enough to sit on a live crocodile is also stupid enough to wake up while it’s still dark outside just to exercise.

It was cool and lovely and quiet at 5:05. Since it was my first time jogging since, well, ever, I couldn’t jog the entire time, but for my first time, I thought I did pretty well. The moon was out, and the stars, and I watched the sunrise as I jogged/walked. You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes... it was beautiful. I was out for 40 minutes or so. I came back, took a shower, and felt really great.

Just when I think I know myself... I really am full of surprises, am I not?

I just realized how weird a word that is, jogging. Think about it. Jogging.

Victory!

Something SO GREAT happened to me today!

Yesterday I trekked through the mud and rain to get to the Achimota post office to see if my birthday package arrived (That was an adventure in itself, sloshing through the mud under my umbrella, fiercely determined to make the forty-minute journey and to get to that damned post office if it killed me.) and found a slip of paper telling me to go to Accra North post office, which is an hour away and kind of a pain to get to.

Today, I boarded a trotro headed to Circle. It’s a big traffic circle surrounded by bus and lorry stations from which buses and trotros depart to all cities in Ghana. I don’t really like going there because it takes about fifteen minutes to walk from where the trotro drops you off to the post office, and the whole time people call out to you, especially if you’re an obruni, to buy the things they sell from their stands or blankets on the sidewalk. It’s hard to walk because the vendors are everywhere, taking up over half the sidewalk, and there are so many people pushing their way past.

Anyway, there is one place in particular where some creepy guys sell secondhand shoes, and every time I pass there, this guy sitting on the railing reaches out and grabs my arm or wrist and holds on tightly. I hate it so much! He was there on the way to the post office, and sure enough, he grabbed me, calling out, “Obruni!” It took a few seconds for me to free my arm from his grasp and keep walking. I made it to the post office without too much hassle and was delighted to find a wonderful birthday package from my family waiting for me. I sat on a seat in the post office in front of a Western Union counter and opened my package then and there, already having waited two months for it to come from California. As I left the post office, I bought a sachet of pure water. Water here comes in plastic sachets, by the way. You bite a corner off and drink it down, like this:


I drank it as I walked but didn’t finish it, holding it in my left hand. When I passed by creepy man again, still sitting on the same spot on the railing, what do you know? He grabbed my wrist AGAIN, my right wrist. But this time, I was ready. In one swift motion, I yanked my arm away, which caused him to lose his balance somewhat, and with my other hand, I raised my sachet of water and squeezed hard. It squirted all over his face, and he let go of my wrist to cover his eyes with his hands, almost falling off the railing into the street behind him. I didn’t stop to see if he made it. I kept walking, very determinedly. As I walked, however, I heard everyone around me shout and cheer. I can just imagine what they were thinking. Look at that obruni, showing that man!

I felt so powerful and awesome. It so great! Plus, I had a bag full of lovely gifts from home. It was a great day!

Angels

I still have to blog about my safari and other travels and such, but I don’t want to stop writing about my day to day life while I’m working on them. I just wanted to share a little story about something cute my favorite student said.

My favorite student is named Ohemaa, my “mini-me” (she reminds me SO much of myself when I was her age, except she’s a thousand times sweeter and more thoughtful than I ever was). She’s my favorite! She gives me so much love and affection and always says the sweetest, most encouraging things. She has written me countless notes and drawn me dozens of pictures. When asked who my favorite person in all of Ghana is, the person I’ll miss the most when I’m gone, I answer Ohemaa, because it’s true. I feel like I know her so well, because all her fears and insecurities were once my fears and insecurities, and her strengths, likes, passions, and needs were once mine, too.

Today at snack break she wanted to tell me something. “Miss Kate, sometimes, when I’m alone and I’m thinking about you, I think that you...” she noticed Asabea was listening, so she said, “Come with me to the storeroom. I don’t want anyone to hear.”

As she pulled me into the storeroom, I wondered what she was going to say. She doesn’t always have the best self-esteem and sometimes puts herself down or tells me that everyone hates her, which is ridiculous because she’s the sweetest girl in Class 4 and is friends with everyone. I think sometimes she says these things because she needs me to reassure her that it’s not true, that she is smart and beautiful, and that everyone else and I love her. I understand her need for reassurance because I have the exact same need. Taking care of Ohemaa, having to reassure her every day that she is beautiful and loved, has made me realize what an enormous task it would be for a man to love and to take care of me (and so far, I have never found a man who was up to the challenge and capable of giving me the reassurance I need, which is why I’ve been single for the past 23 years or so).

I thought perhaps Ohemaa would say something like she thinks that I don’t love her or something ridiculous like that just to hear me tell her otherwise. Earlier in the day she had been upset because she didn’t do as well on her exams as she had hoped, so I began preparing my response in my head, something to reassure her that she is still very smart and talented even though her grades weren’t the best. What she had to tell me came absolutely as a surprise.

Ohemaa’s beautiful brown eyes looked up into mine. “Miss Kate,” she said a bit shyly, “sometimes, when I’m at home and I’m thinking about you... I think that you must be an angel.”

AW! How precious! I couldn’t say anything at first. All I could do was hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head. She’s so affectionate, sincere, empathetic, innocent, and sweet, and I just love her so much.

Finally, I said, “Ohemaa, darling, sometimes I think the same thing about you.”

Adventures

Vacation was great! I had so many incredible experiences! Here’s a brief recap:

After exploring the castles at Cape Coast and Elmina, surviving the canopy walk at Kakum, and going on my first and second date with a Ghanaian man, I headed north. I spent 13 hours on a bus from Accra to Tamale and another two hours to Mole, where I went on my first African safari and saw more wild elephants than I ever dreamed of (and baboons, antelope, warthogs, monkeys, and crocodiles)! I went on a canoe ride in this little village; it was a genuine jungle cruise. I spent an incredible night under the stars in Larabanga, which ended all too soon with a 4AM bus ride back to Tamale and another 3-hour trotro to Bolgatanga. After depositing my luggage at a hotel, I took a shared taxi with my new friend and travel buddy, Molly, to a town called Paga. At Paga, I sat on the back of a live crocodile! I also had a tour of a traditional village compound with all the mud huts, which was interesting, and walked through a former slave camp, which was sad. The next day I left the hotel at 6AM, and traveled the whooooole day, finally arriving at my house in Haatso at 11:30 PM. I rested for a day at Haatso with the intention to visit a monkey sanctuary and waterfalls in the Volta Region. (I had planned to stop at the monkey sanctuary near Techiman after I went to Paga, but decided to go to the other monkey sanctuary in the Volta Region instead.) Again, my plans were changed... my bags were packed for my trip to Tafi Atome when I decided to save the monkey sanctuary for midterm break. You see, Sister Juliana’s younger sister was getting married on 2nd May, and I was invited to the wedding! On Friday, I rode with Fred and his sister Ruth to Homase, the village where Sister Juliana’s family lives. It was so wonderful to be with the Gyamfi family again! They’ve become my adopted extended family in Ghana. They all call me by my Ghanaian name, Yaa Asantewaa, and treat me as a special guest. On Saturday, they had the engagement ceremony in the morning, the wedding in the afternoon, and the reception in the evening. They also had second reception on Sunday morning, and afterwards, Fred dropped me off in Kumasi so I could visit the Cultural Center. When I had finished there, I took a trotro back to Accra and arrived at the convent last night at 8:45. I was asleep by 10. What a vacation! I fully intend on writing about the highlights in further detail when I have the time. If you want a sneak peek and a look at the pictures, I’ve posted pictures of my Safari and of Larabanga & Paga. Enjoy!

School reopened today. It was nice to see some of my students again. Only half of Class 4 showed up, however, so it was a bit quiet, which was probably a good way to ease back into this whole teaching business. I realized that I’m leaving in 12 weeks from today! That’s nothing! It means I have less than 60 days with my students. I only have 12 more weekends. There is still so much to do and see in Ghana before I leave!

Today was fine except that literally every teacher at school told me that I’ve grown fat! Every one! “Wow, Kate! You’ve gotten fat! Your vacation must have been good!” In Ghana, fat is considered beautiful, so they all meant it as a compliment, but all I could think about was how NOT a compliment that would be in the Western world. If my coworkers are surprised by how fat I’ve become in the past 3 & 1/2 weeks... what will my family and friends say when they see me after 9 & 1/2 months? So, I’ve resolved to lose weight in the remaining 12 weeks I have left in Ghana. This is weird because I haven’t bothered about my weight at all in about 3 years, and now I’m suddenly very self-conscious, and it sucks. My goal is to leave Ghana with everyone here telling me I’m too thin and everyone at home telling me I’m just right. We’ll see how this goes!

Anyway, if you’re interested in reading more about any of the above mentioned adventures... stay tuned! More to come!

Beware of Bats!

I love bats. I find them to be delightful, quirky creatures (you know, mammals who try to be birds) who have done a lot of good for the world (eating mosquitoes and inspiring submarine technology, for instance). However, they can be very tricky sometimes. A word of warning: Beware of bats that trick you into thinking they’re shooting stars. Sometimes, the bats fly low enough at night to have their bellies lit up by the street lights, and it’s quite deceiving. I’ve seen several. It’s like, you go to make a wish, and the “star,” instead of burning out and disappearing, continues flapping across the sky and out of sight. You feel kind of stupid when you wish upon a bat.
        
So, although I (unwittingly) wished upon a bat on Sunday night more times than I’d like to admit, I did see four genuine shooting stars. Lucky me! Four wishes in one night! (If you’re wondering what it was I wished for... ha! Yeah right! I’ll never tell. They were good wishes, and if I tell they won’t come true.) That may seem like an exaggeration, but I really, truly saw four shooting stars. That’s one of the advantages of spending the night on the roof in a very small West African Muslim village, sleeping under the stars. You can see soooooo many stars it borderlines ridiculous.

The other advantages are that it’s MUCH cooler on the roof (the guest rooms don’t have fans), and also, it only costs Gh¢5.00 per night (about $3.75 USD). The price included a meal of rice and stew, but the proprietor of the Salia Brothers Guesthouse, Al Hassan, also shared his tisert with us. (Tisert is ground maize that has a texture similar to dough.) There were eight obruni girls, volunteers or students from Europe and America, and we all squatted around a big bowl of tisert and soup, eating with our hands like Ghanaian women do. All that food and a night under the stars for the price of a frappechino! On top of that, we had a session talking with a “rural intellectual.” He was Al Hassan’s uncle who happened to be visiting that night, the village sage whose words of wisdom were translated from the local dialect into English by Al Hassan.

Larabanga is a small village in the Northern Region of Ghana that is mostly known for two things: Its famous mud and stick mosque that is disputably the oldest existing building in West Africa (allegedly built in 1421 after the village’s first chief threw a spear from a “mystic stone” that landed at the site of the present day mosque. The mosque’s foundations had miraculously appeared, and the structure built on top still stands to this day. It is truly a gift from Allah, although unfortunately, because I’m not Muslim, I was not allowed to enter.) AND Larabanga is known for being the entry point for Mole National Park.

I say the best part of Larabanga is the Salia Brother’s Guesthouse. Oh, it’s not five-star by anyone’s standards. The little room I shared with my travel buddy, Molly, was painted a cheery bright blue. Just look up. Our ceiling had character! It consisted entirely of tree branches laid across the bigger branches that stretched from wall to wall. There was also a bed with a dusty white sheet and a table covered with an orange cloth. The shared shower and toilet were tucked away in a corner of the compound. The shower was just a little shower-sized room with a bucket of water and a hole in the wall near the ground for the water to drain outside into the gutter... but that’s almost normal for me. The “toilet” was a room about the size of the shower with a deep square hole and a little trash can for the used toilet paper (for clean toilet paper, ask Al Hassan, and he’ll let you borrow the roll).

But the view that night... the view was much greater than five-star! Five million stars is more like it. Al Hassan carried our mattresses up to roof, and that was where we slept. We had to climb up a rickety ladder that was really just an enormous tree branch resting against the wall that had been carved with grooves for stepping. It was difficult to climb up, and even more difficult to climb down, but I managed it several times without falling once. The sky was so beautiful I didn’t want to close my eyes, so I lied awake for quite a while. The moon was nowhere to be seen, which normally makes me lonely, but that night, I was secretly grateful for the new moon, because without the moon the millions of stars shone that much more brightly.

Sleeping under the stars, caressed by a cool West African breeze, was such an incredible, unforgettable experience! Not only did I get four real wishes (wishes on bats don’t count), but also I had a very nice chat with God; it was one of those delightful spiritual experiences as well. And as my sleepiness took over and my eyes resisted staying open, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what marriage is like; you know, falling asleep every night with a smile on your face, smiling because the last thing you see before you sleep is the most beautiful sight imaginable. When I woke up in the middle of the night, all I had to do was peek open my eyes, and there it was, my sky with the stars, shining their comfort. I’m thinking I’ll have to end up with someone pretty freaking amazing if he’ll ever hope to make me feel like that night in Larabanga.

But yeah, those tricky bats. Beware.

The best things in life are ELEPHANTS!

Is there any feeling in the world that's better than fulfilling one of your dreams/life goals? I seriously doubt it. One of my life goals was to go on an African safari and see an elephant in the wild. Guess what! I DID IT!

My African safari was one of the most incredible experiences of my life! To be soooo close to wild elephants was absolutely thrilling. It was a walking safari, too... infinitely more exciting than a driving safari. If you're not stepping on antelope shit and walking on the same path as warthogs and baboons, you're not a real adventurer, are you?

To see an elephant in the wild sent chills down my spine. I think the experience was made about 1000 times more amazing by the fact that this has been my DREAM for so long because I looooooove elephants more than I could possibly say. It was freaking amazing to be walking within 50 meters of such beautiful, amazing, wonderful, magnificent, dangerous creatures!

After the safari, I sat at the look-out point by the pool, which had a spectacular view of the valley and the elephant watering holes. Five elephants were splashing around the watering hole. Antelopes danced across the grass. A warthog and its baby plodded along on the hill a few feet below the look-out point. A monkey was fooling around the tree right next to me. I couldn't believe how fantastic it was. Honestly... five real elephants? My smile was huge. Only in Africa!

I'm a very happy girl right now. VERY happy. I'll write more about the safari when I go back to Accra. In the meantime, I've been bitten by the travel bug again, and I can't wait to explore the rest of Ghana. There is still so much to see! I have no idea when I'll go back to Accra. School doesn't reopen until 4th May, so I still have like 9 days of vacation or something. I bet I can see a lot in 9 days! :)

I have my ticket!

I just bought my bus ticket and I’m leaving for my safari at 3PM tomorrow!

I’ll spend about 13 hours on the bus and arrive in Tamale at 4AM. From there, I’ll have to find a bus or trotro going to Mole National Park, which allegedly takes about 3 hours. I’ll spend however long I need to at Mole, and I’m quite excited about it because I read that from the pool at the motel inside the park, you can see the elephants’ watering hole. Imagine how incredible that would be, just swimming and watching elephants! I hope the internet wasn’t lying!

My tentative plan after Mole is to find a way to get to Paga, so I can go swimming in the sacred crocodile pool. Haha, yeah right! I’m not stupid enough for that. The local children swim in the pool and ride on their backs across. I’m not local, however, so I’ll do the tourist thing... buy some chickens to feed to the crocodiles, and go with an experienced guide to touch the crocodile and sit on its back for a picture. Yes, I’m stupid enough to do that much. How amazing would that be? Seriously, how many people do you know who have sat on the back of a crocodile and lived to tell about it? I decided to do Paga after Mole just in case something bad happens (like a crocodile bite, which I’m afraid would take longer to heal than a dog bite), then at least I’ll have had my chance to see an elephant.

Elephants are my favorite animals in the world! This will be my first time seeing them in the wild!

After Paga, I might try to spend a night in Techimen, because it’s not far from this one monkey sanctuary where allegedly the monkeys just come out and hang out with locals, and sometimes steal their food. That just seems like a fun thing to do, don’t you think? I’d also like to visit the cultural center in Kumasi, possibly, and maybe the zoo. (Although I have a feeling that after seeing the animals in the wild, the zoo won’t do much for me, you know?)

Well, all this is tentative. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone or when I’ll be back. I don’t have any set plans, other than a Gh¢19.50 bus ticket for Tamale. I can’t believe it took me this long to start, but I can blame FRED! He said he wanted to go with me, but he wasn’t 100% sure, so he asked me to wait for him. I postponed and postponed my trip just to find out he’s too busy! So now I’m going alone. Fred thought that maybe Mavis might want to come, and she wants to, but she has classes and no money. So... I’m traveling alone. It’s a good thing I’m so damn independent!

I realize that I still haven’t written about Cape Coast yet. Maybe I’ll start writing later tonight. I finally was able to post pictures, though! I put them on Facebook. Here are the links, if you’re interested to see the pictures of Cape Coast and Kakum & Elmina. You don’t even have to have a Facebook account to view them!

Cape Coast 1 & 2

I just got back from Cape Coast about an hour ago!

I could divide my trip into two parts. The first part was awesome! The second part was awful! At the moment, I’m too exhausted to write about the first part and still too upset about the second part even to talk about it. The awful part wasn’t a huge deal, but the last time something like that happened to me it took me a few days before I could talk about it.

But please... If a beggar asks for food, don’t turn him away. You will regret it.

And now I hate all men again.

Change of plans...

I’m going to Cape Coast tomorrow morning. I’ll spend one or two nights there.

I’m saving my safari in the north for next week.

I can’t wait to leave because the past few days have not been very great at all. I have hopes, however, that the thrill of traveling will considerably raise my spirits.

Good job, Ghana

So, I’m back at the internet café. The internet hasn’t been working at the school for the past couple days, and I haven’t finished planning my trip, so I’m here again! Wonderful. Ghana Telecom, you suck.

Also, I’m thinking I’ll probably leave on Thursday instead of tomorrow, simply because I’m not ready AT ALL and I don’t want to rush. I’m planning on going to Fred’s office today so he can help me plan and make phone calls. I’m anxious to plan my vacation and leave already! I want to see an elephant! However, I just realized how ridiculously far the place with the crocodiles is. Paga is on the VERY north of Ghana. I don’t know yet how long it will take to get there. I really want to go, but the idea of sitting squished in the back of a trotro for all those hours doesn’t appeal to me too much. But... sitting on crocodiles? That’s too unbelievable to pass up! We’ll see what I end up doing!

Also, I came across this:

http://www.peacefmonline.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=21606:obama-praises-ghana&catid=15:social-news&Itemid=56

Interesting. Good job, Ghana!

Three good choices and one bad one

Today was a horrible day for a picnic.

Fortunately, however, I made several good choices and only one bad choice.

The first good choice: Agreeing to go with Sister Juliana to pick up her nieces and nephews from their house in Sakomono.

Since today (Easter Monday) is a day traditionally celebrated in Ghana with picnics, I had planned on accompanying the nuns to one of the church picnics that were planned. At breakfast, however, when Sister Juliana told me she was going to pick up her brother’s kids to take them out for the day, I told her how fun that sounded, remembering all the fun times I had as a child when my aunts took me and my sisters out. I didn’t mean that I wanted to accompany her, but that was how she took it, so she invited me to come. I didn’t want to intrude on her aunt/niece and nephew bonding time, but she said she really wanted me to come, so I went. We picked them up from their house (Felix, 13, Judith, 7, and Linda, 4)and took them to the shopping mall, a place they had never been. They each picked out a treat from the bookstore, which meant I got to spend some time browsing the books and despairing at how ridiculously overpriced the books are here. Then we left to go to a picnic.

My second good choice: NOT going to Legon.

We drove through Legon, where the Madina parish and several other parishes were having their picnic. We found the picnic spot, this big field with a few tents set up and people playing soccer. Sister Juliana paused for a moment, considering the situation, and asked me if we should stay here or go to the one at Agbogba. I secretly wanted to stay at Legon because there was grass on the field and I could have called my friend Joe, who lives there, to come hang out with me, but I shrugged and told her it was her choice. She chose to go to Agbogba, which was a much smaller community and would be easier to mingle.

The church at Agbogba, St. Barnabas, is only half built. It only has one wall, really, and pillars supporting the roof. They’re not finished with it yet, and in fact, when I first came to Ghana, they were having their services in the second story of an almost-abandoned building over a little provisions shop. In November they moved to the wallless structure a little ways away, and that was also where the picnic was.

The picnic itself was kind of lame, so I was bored for a little while until Sister Regina showed up and I could chat with her. One of the activities was “Pick and Act” in which people picked a paper with something to act out, lame suggestions like “Act like a Sunday School teacher,” or “Act like a mad person,” or “Act like Obama giving a speech.” In the middle of the game, the wind unexpectedly picked up very strongly, blowing dirt and dust into our eyes. I’ve never seen wind that strong before! The sky became increasingly dark, and quite suddenly, the skies opened and released a torrential downpour. You wouldn’t believe that rain! The wind blew the rain sideways into the church, and with only one wall to protect us, we became a bit wet and cold from the mist. It lasted about 20 minutes, so loud they had to stop playing “Pick and Act” because no one could be heard above the rain. When it became slightly less intense, the youth choir began drumming, singing, and dancing... live entertainment. It was nice.

I was SO glad we didn’t stay at Legon! We would have been caught in a ridiculous downpour and been completely soaked with water. I was also glad I was with Sister Juliana, because some of my housemates didn’t even make it... they were about to leave the house when the rain started, and they didn’t want to walk through that storm. It would have sucked to have been stuck at the house all day in the rain. Also, since I was with Sister Julie, I didn’t have to worry about walking back... I rode in her car.

My bad choice: Walking around the front of the car.

When Sister Julie wanted to leave, we hurried across the dirt to where she had parked the car. I went as fast and as carefully as I could, wanting to escape the rain without falling into the mud. I have a very strong aversion to mud; you might say I loathe it with all of my being. When I tried to pass in front of the car, however, I didn’t realize how deep the puddle was, and my foot went into the mud! Horrible! I kind of freaked out a little, but Sister gave me a rag to let me clean it. It was still quite disgusting, though. Then, instead of driving away, she drove the car closer to the church, and we got out to eat the food some of the parishioners had brought to share. (I was like, “So you mean I became muddy for nothing?!”) It’s quite handy going to church events with nuns, because everyone treats them with special care, giving them free food and drinks, and as their guest, you also receive special treatment. I recommend it. The food was very good.

My third good choice: Staying with Sister Juliana.

I had considered just leaving to go back to the house after the picnic. There were a few things I wanted to get done before my trip. For some reason (probably the fact that I didn’t want to walk through the mud to get back to the house), I decided to stay with Sister Juliana as she went to pick up a few things with the kids at Shoprite and take them home. I’m sooo glad I did because when we were at the mall, we saw some tables set up where people were giving out samples of this type of evaporated milk mixed with syrup or tapioca and sugar. Sister Juliana recommended I try a taste, so I went up and asked for a sample. It tasted nice, but not spectacular.

However, as I stood next to the table with my tapioca and cream, I heard a little voice say, “Miss Kate!” I turned around, wondering which student it was, and to my delight I saw Eno, the little sister of my favorite student Ohemaa. Next to her was their even younger sister, Nana, and this girl with long hair and sunglasses I didn’t recognize. Eno gave me a hug, and as I looked at the mystery girl, I realized she was Ohemaa! I took her sunglasses off her face and sure enough, there were those beautiful brown eyes that I adore. At school, the dress code states that they all must have short, buzzed hair, but since it was the break Ohemaa had gotten hair extensions. She was wearing a white headband and a white shirt over jeans and jelly shoes. She looked so ridiculously adorable! Ohemaa is my favorite student. I call her my mini-me, because she reminds me soooo much of myself when I was her age. Of all my students, she is the one I miss the most now that school is out, so I was completely delighted to see her, and looking so adorable with her long hair, too! She gave me a huge hug and a huge smile. Seeing her at the mall made my day!

When we had finished shopping, we waited in the parking lot for about 30 minutes in a line of cars trying to exit, but once we were on the road, the traffic was minimal. We dropped off the three kids, hung out with their mother and their one-week-old baby sister for a little, then Sister Julie and I got back into the car. There was no traffic coming back, which was miraculous and wonderful. I’m strangely exhausted now. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I become so tired now. Maybe I’m getting old?

Anyway, it turned out to be a very lovely day, despite the rain. Happy Easter Monday!

Easter

Happy Easter!

I just spent my first Easter in Africa. It started last night, with a service at the church which was supposed to start at 7, but didn’t actually begin until about 7:45. It lasted until 11! It was ridiculously long. I had a bit of a headache, some stomach pains, and was feeling very tired, so sleepy that when I rested my head on my hand I fell asleep, so I didn’t really appreciate the extreme length. There was a lot of dancing and jubilation throughout, but since I was feeling so crappy, I didn’t participate fully. I watched the others as they danced and clapped and celebrated, but kept my joy (or lack thereof) to myself.

Something very strange and unexpected happened during the service. At the very end, the priest told everyone to wish each other a happy Easter. For about fifteen minutes, everyone went around hugging each other and wishing each other a happy Easter as the choir sang an upbeat tune. They did the same thing at Christmas and New Years, but for both of those I was feeling joyful, not sick, and less jaded, so I was as joyous as the rest. This time, I stood politely at my place, but if someone (like a nun I know or a stranger I didn’t) came up to hug me happy Easter, I hugged her back. I was, however, feeling quite lonely, like I didn’t really belong there.

I watched Sister Suzy go around the church hugging almost everyone a happy Easter, knowing she would never bother to greet me. However, much to my surprise... she danced over to the row in front of mine, pulled the plastic chair away that was in front of me, and gave me a huge hug and said, “Happy Easter, Kate!” I was so shocked but at the same time touched. Maybe she’s finally warming up to me?

Back at the house, we snacked on mini-donuts that Sister Constance had made in her room. I don’t know how one makes mini-donuts in one’s bedroom, but apparently that’s how they do in Africa. There were other snacks and drinks, but I didn’t partake. I was so unbelievably tired. I have no idea why. The rest of the house gathered around the television to watch a Ghanaian film. Ghanaian films are generally terrible, so I excused myself and went to bed. I was asleep by midnight.

I had considered going to church again in the morning, because it was Easter and I was curious to see how it was celebrated in Ghana, but yeah, I definitely didn’t get up in time. I slept in until 8! It felt lovely. When I got up, I went for a 50-minute walk, came back, showered, and went downstairs. Sister Anne was lounging on the couch in her pajamas watching the end of Free Willy on TV. I wanted to wait until Sister Juliana and everyone came back from church to eat, but by 10:30, I realized they must have already eaten before church... how could one go so long without eating?

When I had asked them what they do for Easter, they said they go to church and eat a good meal. The “good meal” was a sausage (a fried hot dog, more like) and cheese with the bread. I ate alone. Sister Julie didn’t come back from church until after 11! It had started at 7. She said I would have loved it because of all the dancing, but honestly, I was so churched out from the lengthy service the night before that I wasn’t too disappointed to have missed it.

For lunch we had rice, chicken, salad, and ice cream! The ice cream was a treat. After lunch, I went to the school to use the internet, but both my computer and the school’s wireless are having problems, so I didn’t accomplish very much before the internet stopped and my computer crashed. Lovely.

Frustrated with my computer and with how fat I’ve become, I took another long walk in the afternoon during which I reflected on how different this Easter was from the four Easters previous. Four Easters ago was the day I turned 19. I spent it alone at college working on homework for my Shakespeare class. The next year I was home for Easter, and spent the day partaking in traditional Easter activities with my family. Two years ago, I went to church at Notre Dame, and afterwards had a picnic lunch with two of my best friends at the Luxemburg Gardens in Paris. That night, we went out with some friends and drank a bottle of cheap wine at a Chinese restaurant. After dinner, the girls wanted to have an Easter egg hunt, and the boys wanted to go to a bar, so we compromised by having an Easter egg hunt inside a bar. That was definitely an unforgettable night, made even more unforgettable by the fact I met my French boyfriend Alex that night in the bar. He was fantastic. Oh, and last Easter, I spent the weekend in Philly/New Jersey/NYC. I went to church at my friend’s parish in the Bronx where she sang all the songs for the mass. I spent Easter afternoon wandering around Central Park by myself... also unforgettable.

Easter wasn’t as great as I thought it would be here. Sure, we did have wine with dinner tonight, which was a treat, but it was nothing spectacular. This Easter will be unforgettable, however, just by the fact I spent it in Africa. Now, I’ll only miss 4 more holidays away from home... Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, Father’s Day, and 4th of July. I’ll spend Labor Day in America!

My American Education

So I came to the school today to use the internet (no more cafés!). The key to the staff room wasn’t where it normally is, so I stopped by the office to ask for it. Sister Anne and Sister Juliana were working on something, and when I came back to drop off the key, Juliana asked if I were busy and if I wanted to help. Well, of course I didn’t really want to help – I wanted to go online to plan my vacation – but how could I say no?

They were making coupons for the canteen. You see, the students have a choice of either bringing their own lunch from home or eating at the school’s canteen (like a cafeteria, but with no selection). Those eating at the canteen need to buy a “coupon” for one cedi at the office. At lunchtime, they bring their coupons to the canteen and are given a bowl with the day’s food. Apparently, it was time to make new coupons, so at the office, they were busy printing, stamping, and signing them.

“You can help me laminate,” Sister Juliana said.

“I don’t know how,” I said.

“Okay, then. You can cut.”

There were 18 coupons on each sheet. I took a pair of scissors and began cutting away. Sister Anne and Sister Juliana were delighted with how fast I was cutting, particularly Sister Anne.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” I said as a joke.

“In America, they learn in nursery school,” Sister Juliana told Anne.

“Oh, I see,” said Sister Anne.

“Wait, don’t they learn in nursery school here?” I asked.

Juliana shook her head. “The children aren’t allowed to use scissors. They might hurt themselves.”

“What? I learned in preschool, and I never cut myself!”

“I guess we want to protect them more,” Juliana said, and shrugged. “The teachers do all the cutting for the children. If the children could use scissors, it would be less work for the teachers.” She paused for a moment with a thoughtful look on her face. “Although, the children aren’t allowed to use paste either, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

Africa! How ridiculous are you? You won’t even let your kids cut their own paper?

I sat in the office for two hours, cutting away. They were making, in total, I think 2000 coupons. I wasn’t quite finished cutting them all when my hand and wrist began to hurt. I didn’t say anything, determined to finish with my job. I paused for a moment to shake my wrist, and Juliana saw. She insisted that I stop right then if my hand was tired.

“But I’m not finished yet!”

“If you’re tired you need to stop. We can finish this later. But thank you so much!

“Well, at least I can do something good with my American education,” I said.

I stopped cutting. I went to use the internet, but my laptop was having problems. It’s getting old. I’m a bit worried about it, I’m not going to lie. I’ve had it for almost five years. I’m hoping it lasts another two years more, until I’m finished with grad school, but really... at least work until I’m home from Africa! So, I couldn’t plan my trip today as planned. What a bummer! I’ll try again tomorrow.

Okay, sorry this was kind of boring and lame. Now that I’m not in school, I feel much lonelier. I don’t have my students to keep me company all day, and I guess that my writing in here is my way of talking... to myself? I don’t know.

Anyway... Happy Easter!

Vacation!

Vacation started yesterday! I slept in yesterday and today... how glorious! I was sad to say goodbye to my students on Wednesday, though. I found out that the vacation lasts for three-and-a-half weeks! School doesn’t reopen until 4th May!

Since we’ll have such a long break, I’ve decided I have time to stay around and relax before setting off for my safari. There is no need to rush. I’m using this time to relax, to catch up on the correspondence I’ve been neglecting for the past few busy weeks, and to research where I want to go when I travel. I definitely want to see an elephant in the wild! That’s like my number one objective. I also hope to visit the monkey sanctuary and the place where you can sit on the back of a crocodile. That’s all in the north. I think I’ll have time to travel down the coast to Cape Coast, where they have castles and beaches and the “Canopy Walk” at Kakum National Park, which is a suspension bridge high above the jungle that you can walk across. There’s so much to see!

I’ll stay around Haatso for Easter. On Monday, apparently Ghanaians will have picnics celebrating Easter, and since I love picnics, I’ll stay around for that. On Tuesday morning, the parents and some of the students will come to the school to pick up their reports. If I can plan where I want to go by then, I’ll leave on Wednesday for my adventure. That’s the plan, anyway! Hopefully soon my blogs will soon be filled with elephants, monkeys, crocodiles, castles, and canopy walks. :)

Blessing in Disguise

There is a lovely expression that goes something like this: a blessing in disguise. We use it when something seemingly bad that happens turns out to be actually a good thing.

For example: On 10th March, our school had its “Open Day” in which the parents came to school to look through all their children’s books to check on their progress. I was a bit stressed before that day, having to go through all my kids’ English books making sure I had graded everything correctly. The day was good/bad... I loved being able to talk to the parents of the really good students to let them know how wonderful their kids were doing in school, but for the bad students, I had to tell their parents how they misbehaved all the time in class and didn’t do their homework. Whatever. Not having anything to do, the kids were a bit noisy, talking loudly in the classroom and kind of running around, but nothing too bad, I thought. They didn’t have any classes, and I didn’t expect them to sit silently at their desks the entire day. They’re only nine or ten! However, Sister Juliana came into the classroom and yelled at them for being too loud (her office is right next to my classroom).

The next day, she called me into her office and told me she had a bone to pick with me. Those are words you never want to hear from your boss. I sat down at her desk and she let me have it. She told me I can’t control the kids well enough, that they’re always making noise in the class. It’s because I don’t cane them, she said. I was a bit upset by this because for the first month or so that I taught them, yes, they were a little out of control, but a couple weeks prior to Open Day I had discovered a wonderful method of keeping them quiet during class. I make a sort of competition between rows to see which row is the quietest. When I raise my hand, the first row to all quietly raise their hands gets a point. At the end of the week, the every student in the row with the most points gets a prize. It works marvelously!

However, on Open Day, they weren’t sitting in their rows because no one was teaching, and they were being a bit loud. Sister Juliana said that since I can’t control them, I can’t be alone with them anymore. She decided to take Monsieur Kofi out of 4A and put him in 4B with me, and reassign Mr. Roland back to 4A. She said I’m too nice to the children, that I allow them to hug me and talk to me too much. I’m their teacher, not their babysitter, she said, so I shouldn’t be so personal with them.

When she told me this, I wanted to cry. I felt like I was making breakthroughs with some of the troubled and insecure students, and she told me I couldn’t talk to them anymore! Who would tell the the girls that they’re beautiful? Who would encourage the slower students in class that even though they didn’t get a very high grade on their homework, they’re still winners and they’ll do better next time?

Also, I felt so incompetent. I’m a horrible teacher and a horrible person!

The only difference I saw when Monsieur came to the class was that I didn’t have to mark the attendance register, because he took over. Very kind! And the kids were a bit quieter in between classes, because he threatened to cane the ones who made noise. I didn’t pay much heed to Sister Juliana’s admonitions that I shouldn’t love the children so much. I still talk to them all the time during breaks and in between classes and hug them when they need it. That hasn’t changed.

Blessing in disguise. Well, the class teachers have to prepare their class’s report cards. This means collecting all the grades from each subject, recording the marks onto a report form, adding all the scores together, figuring out who was first, second, third, etc., etc. It’s a ridiculous amount of work, but, since Monsieur Kofi is officially the class teacher, he did all the work so I didn’t have to! Luckily for me! I was already in over my head just recording the marks for English. It took so long to put together their English forms because some of them didn’t leave their homework books with me, and often they did the work in the wrong book (for example, writing a composition in a comprehension homework book).

Anyway, I was quite relieved that I wasn’t the official class teacher, because I barely managed to finish the English reports in time. If I also had to calculate all their scores and write their reports... I never would have been able to do it all in time.

Okay, so now I’m officially exhausted from not having slept enough the past two weeks or so since exams started. Today was “Our Day” in which the kids could do whatever they wanted. They all brought food to class to share with each other, and some of them brought food for me. One of my students even gave me a beautiful piece of purple cloth for me to make a dress! They all brought play clothes and changed so that they could run around without fear of dirtying their uniforms. Some of the kids put on a play of Cinderella... it was so cute! It reminded me so much of my childhood, when my friends, sisters, and I acted out plays all the time. I told them about how I was in a play of Cinderella when I was a little girl. I was one of the stepsisters. It was a good day, but it’s sad that I won’t see them again for a few weeks!

Internet!

They FINALLY fixed the internet at the school! It stopped working in mid-December when the phone company (I think it’s called Ghana Telecom) was bought out and they new company had to relay all the cables or something. Our internet service provider was supposed to set up a temporary thing like a jump drive that could be reloaded like a phone card and used on only one computer, but they couldn’t get it to work. So for the past three and a half months, I’ve had to go to an internet café to go online. It was quite inconvenient and became expensive after a while. Now, instead of having to walk fifteen minutes to pay 80 pesewas a minute to sit cramped at a little table with creepy Ghanaian men harassing me all the time, I can just walk the forty second walk from the house to the school and go online for free in the comfort of my own classroom. Fantastic!

I’m at the school right now. I’m supposed to be grading and recording the results of the exams and homework, but I’m much too distracted by this wonderful invention called the internet! I’m great at procrastinating, but somehow I always manage to get everything done in time, and I’m confident that putting together the kids’ reports will be no exception.

Tomorrow I’m going to a wedding. On Monday, the reports are due, I think, but I’m not sure. Wednesday is the last day of school. We have two-and-a-half weeks off for Easter, I think, or maybe longer, but again, I’m not sure. They forget to tell me these things sometimes. Anyway, I’ll be busy for the next few days until the reports are finished... see you then!

Jane's Secret

About a week and a half ago, one of my students told me her “secret.” I think I’ve mentioned this student’s name before, but since I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone her secret, I’ll call her “Jane” in this blog.

For the first few weeks I taught class 4, “Jane” was pretty quiet. I didn’t give her any extra special attention until the week they wrote poems for composition class. Jane’s poem was about her sister. In the poem, she writes about how she beats her lazy sister with a belt to correct her when she does something wrong. Her other poem was about her “wicked” stepmother and how much she hates her. That’s when I realized there was something different about her, something a little bit dark.

A few weeks later, she gave me a note begging me to be her “elder sister” and to take her with me when I travel, because, she wrote, she doesn’t feel comfortable at home, where everyone tells her she’s “stupid, ugly, foolish, suck, a thief.” When I read this note, I thought perhaps she must come from a tumultuous, broken family life. Not long after she gave me the note, the first of Jane’s dark secrets spilled out when I was talking with her and some of her classmates.

“Miss Kate, my father is married to two women,” she burst out after a classmate complained that she hardly sees her father. “My mother traveled and is living abroad, and while she was gone, my father married another woman, my stepmother. I had a dream that she would treat me badly, and it’s true! She hates me and makes me and my sister do all the housework, like Cinderella, but her children don’t do anything. My father married two women, and my mother doesn’t even know!” She looked like she was about to cry.

Ah, so she does come from a broken family, something that seems to be much less common in Ghana than in America. As she told me this, I realized that she might be exaggerating when she said she had to do all the housework and that her mother doesn’t even know about her father’s second marriage. However, that doesn’t change the tragedy of her situation. She lives in a house where she feels mistreated and quite unloved by her stepmother and basically neglected by everyone else.

“Jane, when was the last time you saw your mother?” I asked.

“I don’t remember. She left when I was just a baby,” Jane said sadly. “She talks to me on the phone sometimes, and she sends me clothes and shoes from abroad, but I don’t remember what she looks like. That’s why I want you to take me with you when you go, because I want to see my mother. My mother lives abroad.”

“Where does your mother live?” a classmate asked.

“I just said, she lives abroad,” Jane replied.

“But where? You can’t just say ‘abroad,’ That’s not a country,” the classmate insisted.

“Yes it is! London!” said another classmate, quite sure of herself.

“Oh,” said the first classmate, slightly embarrassed.

“Miss Kate, isn’t the UK near London?” another student asked.

“No. London is in the UK,” I explained.

“Isn’t that near America?”

We need to work on our geography skills, don’t we?

Oh, my poor little Jane, an almost-motherless daughter of a broken home. Was that the reason for the notes she sent me? She has handed me a few very dark notes, talking about how the world was so unkind to her that she just wanted to die. She wrote that she would kill herself. She is ten-years-old! Of course it pains me greatly whenever I hear my precious students talking about wanting to kill themselves, but sadly, I’ve heard it from more than one student. However, none of the others were quite as intense as Jane. The other couple girls simply cried that they want to kill themselves during a dramatic moment when they were feeling upset or unloved. But with Jane... one time, when she was in trouble with one of the teachers, she came up to me quite calmly and told me she would take her father’s gun and shoot herself in the head. Everyone would be happier that way, she said. The world was so unkind to her.

“Jane, don’t say that! The world would be such a sad place without you!” I said, giving her a huge hug.

“No, Miss Kate. That’s not true. The only person who truly cares about me is my mother, and she lives abroad and I never see her. No one here cares about me so I’m just going to kill myself, okay? Thank you for saying yes.”

“No, it’s not okay! I love you. I’m your elder sister, remember?” I said, holding her tightly. “Jane, you’re beautiful!”

“No, I’m not. I’m ugly.” No matter how many times I insisted to her that she’s beautiful, she refused to accept it.

This girl clearly has problems. I honestly believed they came from living in a broken home with a stepfamily who tells her she’s ugly and who doesn’t show her the love and attention she so desperately craves. Oh, sometimes I wish I could go back to believing that. As sad as that reason is, it’s nothing compared to the real secret. About a week and a half ago, she told me the rest of her secret.

“Miss Kate, I’m ready to tell you my secret,” she said, coming up to my desk during snack break. I had a strange foreboding about this, and remembered the time little Georgia of Class 3 had told me her “secret,” that her father beats her, and that he beat her mother so badly she was sent to the hospital. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for something like Georgia’s secret.

“Okay, Jane. What is your secret?”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” she said. I nodded. Jane came close to me and whispered into my ear, “I’m not a virgin.”

My heart stopped. Brian came up to my desk, asking me about something, but I quickly shooed him away, silently praying that Jane didn’t know what the word ‘virgin’ meant. I pulled her close and whispered into her ear, “How do you know?”

She whispered back, “I know I’m not a virgin because I was raped.”

“What happened?” I said, and her story spilled out in frantic whispers. A man who used to live at her house named Kofi did it. As she started to describe to me the circumstances surrounding one of the times, when she and her brother were sent to visit him at his house in her home village, her eyes began to water, and she trembled until she couldn’t speak anymore. Listening to her horrendous experience, I wanted to cry. Instead, I held her close to me, rocking her gently, and whispered how sorry I was, that that was something that should never happen to a wonderful girl like her, that she was still beautiful.

“Oh, Jane, you’re beautiful, and God loves you,” I whispered.

“No, Miss Kate. You’re wrong. God doesn’t love me,” she replied.

“Yes he does!” I insisted.

“No, he doesn’t. God doesn’t love people who aren’t virgins,” she said.

Jane was raped by Kofi “no less than twelve times,” in 2006 and 2007, when she was six or seven. Since then, she has told her parents about it. She said that her father was very angry when he found out, and asked her why she waited so long to report. Her mother started crying when she found out.

“Now you know my secret. Don’t tell anyone. This is why I think I’m ugly. This is why I said I want to die. I don’t want to live anymore, because of what happened, because I was raped.”

It happened in the past, and now that her family is aware of it, I don’t think it will happen again. There’s nothing I can do about it except try to help her heal. This has had such a devastating effect on her life. I can’t begin to tell you how tragic this is to me! I’m 23, and I know I would be scarred for life if I were to be raped now... but to have to bear such a heavy burden as a little child! To have her innocence so disgustingly stolen from her at such a young age! My precious student, my “little sister,” Jane... I can’t believe it!

Since confiding in me her “secret,” she sometimes brings it up with me in quiet whispers and we talk about. “Miss Kate, how could God love me? I’m not a virgin. I’m a bad person.”

“No you’re not, Jane! You are a good person. You are a beautiful girl. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was my fault. I let him do it to me. It’s my fault,” she insisted.

“No, no, no, no! It’s not your fault! I promise you. You’re just a child. You couldn’t do anything about it. You are innocent,” I said. “God is angry at Kofi for what he did to you.”

“How do you know? I don’t think he is. I think God doesn’t love me, because I let Kofi do that to me. It’s my fault.”

She sometimes threatens to tell the rest of the class her secret. I ask her not to. I don’t think it’s something the rest of the kids need to be thinking about. I don’t want to put these terrifying images in their heads. She admitted that she has already told a few of her classmates her “secret,” and she named each of them, but I ask her please not to tell anyone else.

The other day, a couple of the girls were talking about how on TV Africa, the late news was cancelled the night before because armed robbers had raped two of the female news reporters, so the other female reporters were afraid and the police were on the chase. I don’t know how true this is; this is just what some of the girls were saying. Jane happened to be standing next to me, and I watched the look of terror in her eyes. She put her little arms around me and hugged me tightly. Later in the day, she took me aside, and told her that when her classmates were talking about the TV Africa women, it reminded her of what Kofi did to her.

Why did that have to happen to her?

The other day, however, Jane ran up to me, quite excited about something.

“Miss Kate! Miss Kate! What you said is true!” she exclaimed.

“What? What are you talking about?” I said.

“When you told me I’m beautiful!” she said, and explained: “My stepbrother was teasing me that I’m ugly, that I have a face like an ugly yam, and my father said, ‘No daughter of mine is ugly. Jane is beautiful.’ So, you’re right! I am beautiful!”

“See? I told you!” I said. She told me this on my birthday. It was the best birthday present she could have given me.

Sadly, since then, she seems to have forgotten her father’s affirmation, and still believes that she’s ugly and damaged. She asked me today whether or not she should get married, because of what happened. I assured her that yes, she should get married someday, that even though she was raped, she can still live a normal life and be happy. Oh, God, I hope she can.

If I were in America, I’d spend several hours at the library pouring over psychology books on how to help child rape victims. However, given my lack of resources here in Africa, I don’t have the luxury of a library. So if any of you, my readers, have any kind of insight or advice about how to help this broken little girl, please pass it on to me. If you’re spiritual, say a little prayer for my student “Jane.” Jane isn’t her real name, but I have a feeling God will know who you’re talking about.

Exams

The kids started their second-term exams today.

In Ghana, seventy percent of their grade is based on their exam results. They have exams at the end of each term, and as there are three terms in a Ghanaian academic year, they have three exams per year. All the homework, tests, classwork, etc, only amounts to thirty percent of their grade. So, yes. The pressure is on! I’m hoping and praying for my students to do wonderfully on all their exams!

I can’t believe that my first term as a Class 4 English teacher is already basically over! It went by so fast!