To the next adventure!

Hello dear readers. Both of you.

First off, apologies for the lack of updates, but internet is rather hard to come by in Kumasi. Even when I *do* get to it, cookies are an issue and often I can't write emails or update this blog or anything. But I'm here now, don't fret. And you're so excited (I can tell these things).

Kumasi has gone by so quickly! And as I have yet to experience a compacted bowel or exploded bladder (knock on wood?) I am going to declare my stay to be a success. We leave our homestays tomorrow to meet our group on school grounds by 8 am (meaning I'll only have to wake up at 6, instead of my usualy 5 am wakeup) in order to pack our things on a bus and head to... the village!

I'm super excited for this. Yemi, our program director (who tells us often to "go enjoy your life") has told us that in the village we will meet "authentic Ghanians". I'm not quite sure what that specifically means, but I'm sure it will be fun nonetheless. We're all spread across three villages in smaller groups, but everyone is within walking distance. So that's very nice. I'm with Natalie, Isabel, Amanda, and Mara. Our village isn't as close to the others, but it's no more than a 20 minute walk. So exciting.
In the village I'll also get to choose something to do for our mini-ISP. Rachel is thinking about doing dressmaking, Natalie wants to make drums, etc. It's a smaller exercize into what we'll be doing for the month of November. I'm not entirely sure what I want to do though. They don't have kente weaving, which is unfortunate, but it means thatI get to have some fun with a subject I wouldn't get to investigate otherwise. I'm thinking maybe basket weaving? Honestly, I think I'll have to wait to see what jumps at me when I get there.

I can't believe September is almost over. Happy Fall everyone back home! Enjoy my second-favorite season for me. I'm still a little upset I'm missing it completely, but I figure the fun I'm having here is making up for it.

On a completely unrelated note, I've taken to following the Black Stars (Ghana's football {soccer} team) and their progress to the World Cup, to be held in South Africa. The Black Stars were the first African team to qualify for the World Cup (ever), so everyone is really, really excited here. I think I'm gonig to try to go to the Ghana v. Mali game in November when we're on our ISP. It's been really amazing to be here and watch people talk about their team, everyone's incredibly proud. Whenever a game is on and a goal is scored, the entire city erupts. Almost everyone is watching them, and I wish them the best of luck.

Tonight we have a dance recital for our homestay families and Twi teachers. We're daning two traditional dances, and for the Kpatsia dance I get to stand right in front. I'll try to have someone take some photos, but just picture me flailing about madly while standing center stage and it will be like you witnessed it yourself.

Love,
Lo

PS: Hearing! I almost forgot! It turns out I did something to my eardrum, but I have some recovered hearing in my right ear. Thanks for the concern, everyone! I really appreciate it. But other than the slight hearing problem, I haven't had any other health issues (knock on wood), and everyone else on the program seems to be doing quite well. We've really been fortunate. So again, thanks for the concern. It was greatly appreciated.

Alive in Ghana!

Quick update (when are they not?) from Kumasi:
I don't know if this will be able to post-- for some reason all of google's services aren't working terribly well at the moment. Alas.

St

Baby Steps

Well, I made it through the weekend.
Weekends, I have observed in my time here thus far, are the hardest part of the program. Whereas during the week you have classes and activities to occupy your time, the weekends are unstructured, free time with your host family. Sometimes, like in Accra, this is fine. Your host family takes you to see the sights, eat a really good meal, visit their church, etc. Other times, however, when your homestay family is... less than that... you get a different experience entirely.
I was mostly able to avoid my homestay by bumming at fellow classmate's houses, and then doing an all day Batik workshop on Saturday. I'd write more but this keyboard is KILLING me, so you'll just have to be content with this small, bland, update.
On the homefront, Auntie Doris and I continue to have our bathroom-key war. She seems to think it is completely ridiculous to use the toilet more than once every thirty six hours. I, being a senseless Obruni, tend to disagree. However, I take my small victories when I can. Since she does not speak much English at all, and in fact (as far as I can tell) enjoys lecturing me whenever possible, I have taken to calling her Auntie Boris. I think the name suits her better anyway.
I also got to experience the Ghanian healthcare system this weekend, but it was most uneffective because apparently the doctors don't come in on the weekends. Nothing to be concerned about-- I've lost most of the hearing in my right ear, but I don't think it's terribly serious. I'll know soon, whenever they find a doctor somewhere. Besides, even if it gets worse and I have to get a hearing aid I will be THAT MUCH CLOSER TO BEING A CYBORG. NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO STOP ME.

I must go now and escape this horrid keyboard. Love to you all.
Lo

Home is where the heart is

Howdy from Kumasi, people who read my blog for who knows what reason!

So, I'm obviously in Kumasi now. Yay.
I have transferred to my second homestay (more on that later), and am now attending classes at KASS, the Kumasi Anglican Secondary School, an institution that has generously loaned out one of their classrooms for SIT(School for International Training) purposes. Twi lessons still continue, and we've started our FSS (field study seminar) classes to start preparing us for our ISP (Independent Study Projects) papers.
Have I mentioned that they R.L.A.I.G. (Really like Acronyms in Ghana)?

My second homestay is in the suburbs of Kumasi, two taxi rides away. And to use the term "homestay" is a little... kind. It's more of a "open air shanty stay".
The structure itself is an open air two story building, painted pink and blue. A staircase with pointed gothic arches made of poured concrete links the floors and stretches out into the street, where it abruptly ends in the red dust of the sidewalk/road. I live with 9 other people on my floor, with many above us (I've yet to get the exact number), and at least 5 camping out in the courtyard. Laundry hangs everywhere, making for a colorful sight, and we have a nice view of the sprawling city beyond us.
I am still taking bucket showers. Bucket showers, for the uninformed, are a fantastic and terrifying thing. Cold water is gathered into a single bucket (holding about 2-3 gallons of water) and transported to a tiled room. Once there, you close the door (if there is one), and use a smaller bucket to slowly but systematically douse yourself in the freezing water in an attempt to get the dust and dirt off. Some of the other students report getting warm to hot bucket showers, but I think they are simply delirious from the hypothermia. Poor things.
In order to use the toilet (generous term), I must go and hunt out my Auntie, who is the keeper of the lavetory key. Due to the high amount of traffic around the building, the toilet is locked to keep strangers from clogging, or just generally using, it. She is a large, intimidating woman who sizes me up each time I ask for the key. She sighs and shifts her weight around before procuring the key from some unknown hiding place on her person, speaking Twi at me rapidly while shaking her finger and glaring. I have almost considered walking out into the bushes instead of asking for the lavatory key from her. I have yet to ask her for the key twice in one evening, but if I am found dead from a ruptured bladder or compacted colon, YOU KNOW WHY.
My room is in the same room as the refrigerator where the family keeps ALL of their food, so I am often inturrupted in reading, snoozing, anything, by one of the family or the hired help scrounging around for something in the fridge. They are still knocking as of Friday, but I'll let you know.
Since the lavatory and shower room are separate, mostly water-deprived rooms, there is no sink in which to brush my teeth or wash my face before bed. As such, I have bought a very cheap and tiny bucket from a street vendor and use that as my sink at night, furnished with water from whatever is left in my water bottle. Once finished, I try to (discreetly as possible) toss the toothpaste-facewash-whateverelse water out of the window or off the balcony. So far so good. Only one kid has caught me and my illegal bathing/cleansing, but she just ran away from the scary Obruni.
The first morning I left for school, I was greeted with my breakfast (a piece of bread) and a message from my homestay guardian: "I am done raising children, please find your way to school on your own".
Wheeeee!

Still, all of this aside I'm having a blast. Classes, while sometimes boring, still hold my attention, and I have found a topic for my ISP: Kente cloth weaving. I'm trying to see if I can get some pictures online soon, but that's a slightly daunting task. We'll see.

Be safe, be well, and enjoy a warm shower for me.
Love,
Lo

Hippo Birdie to Ewe, quick update.

Today is Mommy's birthday! Happy birthdaaaaaay Mommy! I love you very much. For your birthday I have friended you on Facebook. It's about all I can do from Ghana, so I hope it's enough! Also I will call later, but you are asleep now (yay time zones).
Thank you for letting me study abroad, and thank you for trusting me enough to go to Ghana.
When I first decided to study abroad, I talked with friends about my options. They complained of parents who were restricting possible locations, or worse, suggesting against studying abroad in general. My parents have always been ridiculously supportive in my crazy antics (Sure! Go travel around Europe! India? We'll help you live there for the summer!), and I couldn't be more appreciative.
So I'm sorry that I'm not closer and that I can't be there for your Birthday. But I hope it's wonderful nonetheless.


In other news, we are going to Kumasi tomorrow. We have to be AT school at 6:30 am. Some people live more than an hour away, so it should make for an interesting morning. Fortunatly, I very close to campus, making my morning trip comparitively easy. We'll bus for five hours before arriving at our hotel, where we'll spend one night before meeting our second host families. The rest of the day one will be touring, orientation, and free time. Kumasi is a large city, so I anticipate being able to access the internet, but honestly I have no idea. Some days the entire internet is down. The entire internet of Ghana. It's ridiculously wonderful.
After that, we're headed out to the Bush Country, where we'll do the village stay et cetera. Things are starting to begin, and it's about time. Accra and I are about done.
On another train of thought, privacy in Ghana is quite different. People in the internet cafe think nothing of looking over my shoulder and reading my blog post, email, or looking at my facebook and then adding me as a friend later. Different culture? Hitting on the obruni (Twi for white person)? Just creeptastic? Take your pick, ladies and gents.

I have some more stories (Church, polybeat, awkward), but they'll have to wait. I need to go pack and write a paper. Hopefully I'll be able to sit down in Kumasi and relay a couple back to you. Stories, not papers. Unless, of course, you'd like me to tell you how the three books I read all talk about the opposition of Western Education to Ghanian Education. I could arrange for that to happen too.

In conclusion, Happy Birthday Mommy.
And to everyone else, be safe! Don't do anything I would do.
Love,
Obruni Lo

Date, time, place.

I went to class today. Turns out it's September 11th.
Huh.
My professor offered his support to our country, and expressed his sadness for our loss.
So... just letting you know.
Eight years ago I was twelve years old. I sat in my middle school homeroom (Mrs. Lumley's, if memory serves) and took the ISTEP, an Indiana State test to make sure you were on track to continue in your public educations. We were working on the math section (I was stuck on a classic "solve for x" problem-- I remember that clearly) when our Principal's voice boomed over the intercom.
We giggled at first for a couple of reasons: One, he had inturrupted the test, which was a big bureaucratic no-no, and two, he NEVER came on to give announcements. Usually it was a student's voice, some student government kid who squeaked their way through the typical "Tyromania starts soon! Talk to Mr. Lax about your proposals!". But no, the broken voice on the other end of the speaker told us simply, "Students, today there has been a terrorist attack on the World Trade Center and The Pentagon. We will keep you informed of any more changes."
And with a click, he was done.
The brief message was quite confusing to my test-addled 12-year-old self. Stupidly, I didn't even KNOW what the Pentagon was, and all I could remember of the World Trade Center was that the towers were designed by a Japanese architect (thanks to my Dad's love of architecture, this fact stood out in my mind), and that they were located in New York.
My teacher stood up, asked us all to resume our test taking, and left the room.
My fellow students and I looked around and wondered what, exactly, was going on. No one really wanted to continue the test, it was apparent this wasn't a meaningless event, but it was also the ISTEP. We had been lectured at for WEEKS about how important it was to eat well, get to class on time, and be present every day so that we could correctly complete the test.
I reached down and got out my daily planner. I awkwardly scrawled "TERRORIST ATTACK ON WORLD TRADE CENTER AND PENTAGON" over the date for September 11. Snapping the book shut, I continued to solve for X.
Some time later we finished our tests and went about the rest of the day. The teachers were explicitly told NOT to discuss the terrorist attacks with the students-- they figured it was better for us to go home and hear the news from our parents. Each period (what we called the 45 minutes devoted to a class) we emplored the teacher to give up a little information, anything about why the Principal had told us and why no one wanted to talk about it.
My health teacher broke into tears and had to excuse himself. We still had no idea.
I got into the car and asked our baby-sitter who picked us up every day and deposited us home what was going on. She didn't have any answers either.
Eventually my parents informed me, answered my questions, and talked about what the impact meant for our country and for me, personally. Aside from the initial shock, I didn't feel much else.
Katherine told me that in her High School (our Middle School and High School were completely different buildings, administrations, and student bodies) they had put televisions out in the hall so students could be kept up to date. Some had gone directly home, others had opted to stick out the rest of the school day. I remember being slighly jealous of the fact the High School had told THEM, but my Middle School had kept mum.
Days and weeks passed, and eventually things numbed. We got used to the attacks, we grew around the losses.
It's odd. I'm twenty years old and it has been eight years since I sat in that room, taking that stupid test (by the by, I passed). I didn't learn any life lessons (but I didn't lose anyone), I don't have a traumatic memory (but I was far, far removed), and I spent the day wrapped in confusion (but that hasn't changed much).
I have never had great command over time. I seldom wear a watch, I am never aware of what day it is, and I am incapible of correctly measuring time as it passes (for all I know, it may have taken me 2 minutes or 2 hours to write this entry). But today, when I went to class and my professor began the lecture with, "I wish to start by telling you we will never forget what happened to your country, and we will never forget the loss you have suffered," it hit a note. I thought that since he was remembering, I should too.
I'm going to stop here before I get preachy or nostalgic, or worse, mushy (my food is mush enough, thanks). I just want you to take a moment and remember where you were, what you were doing, and how you reacted when you first heard about the attacks. It's important to remember how things happened for YOU, how you wrote about it your day planner or tried to call your sister in the City, how you giggled because the test was inturrupted or spent the day in the High School's greenhouse trying to piece together what just happened. We all already know the story that's been written for us, that we've read time and time again.
But what do you remember?


Love,
Lo

An ode to mush

Food. FOOD.

While some may call me a picky eater, while traveling I have never had much of a problem with food. I have mentioned this before, but I believe strongly that when abroad, you shoud take every opportunity to enjoy the local cuisine and try everything at least once. While I have had some... interesting food experiences (ranging from chicken feet to cow's head), and a few bumps along the way (see: infinite chickenburgers in India), I have never in my travels been stranded without a way to feed myself.

Yet now that I have been in Ghana, gotten to know the people, the scenery, and the cuisine, I may be facing a tiny problem.

Not to say that finding food for me is hard. Not at all. In fact, the opposate is true. My homestay family feeds me gargantuan proportions of food. For breakfast this morning, for example, I had a plate of bananas, a bowl full of a porridge-like soup, bread, tea, four oranges, and a tangerine. And then I was given two oranges and a banana to snack upon while at school. So, despite me being in Africa, my program ensures that food is available to me when I should need it.

No, the problem I've been facing is the consistancy of the food. Everything here is mush. Mushy bananas, mushy plantains, mushy fufu (a dough ball in a soup, a dish native to Ghana). Everything I eat here is mush. While at first not a problem, the tedious amount of mush is starting to get to me.

Fufu, which is the Ghanian dish to eat, is basically a mush ball made of pounded plantains and other things. It is not meant to be chewed, but instead soaked in a soup (often spicy peanut flavored), and sucked down.

Yuuuuuum.

But complain as I do, the food really is fine. And food is better than no food at all, so mush mash I will, until something better presents itself.

That's all for now!
Love,
Lo

Weekend Update

This weekend was most exciting. We went to La Badi beach (a tourist attraction where we each paid 5 cidis

Homestay, Adventures, etc.

While the majority of my family is in Grumbleknot (Meredith, NH) with "beatuiful weather", according to my sister, I am in Accra. The weather, while hot, is not as humid as Indiana, but on the downside the dry heat means a really sweaty day. Add that to the fact that in my homestay, the bathroom is shared by 11 people and also serves as the laundry room and... it is rather difficult to shower. And even then, it is a bucket shower (saves water! Awkward situations! Woooo study abroad!).

As for this blog, I am encountering some issues with how to go about an update, or even write an entry. In India I had ample access to the internet, and worked most of the day by a computer where I could take the time to write out, edit, and review entries before I posted them. And should I not be able to finish at work, I had brought my computer along (RIP Owen). However, in Accra I neither have my computer or reliable access to the internet. Herm.

Needless to say, I will keep trying.

Some highlights: my homestay family (Auntie Emma, Papa Samuel, their three sons (and another on the way), Auntie Emma's sister, her husband, their baby, Emma's mother, and another Samuel, as well as a hired girl named Sara) is baptist. We are going to church tomorrow. I think it should be fun.

Tro-tros are the main mode of transportation here. Large cars/vans, they are driven by people and stop at certain spots to pick people up. For example, to go home from the university where I attend class, I have to take three tro-tros. One at the Legon stop, to the Church of Fire stop, to the Minister of Oaths stop. I then have to walk about a mile to the house. However, my homestay is VERY close to campus when compared to the journeys of my fellow students, Claire and Rachel's especially (On that note, several of my fellow students are blogging as well-- if you are curious about things or simply want another take on Ghana, check their blogs out! I've linked them in the sidebar to the right.)

Food. Oh my goodness food. While not Chickenburgers (thank you Lord), some of the food has been... interesting. I have never been a picky eater when abroad, I eat what I can and I try new things. What's the point of travel if you don't do this? But I have encountered a slight problem while here. Consistancy. Many of the foods here are mushy, doughy lumps in a stew of sorts. Eaten with the hands, you use the dough (hot, but uncooked and... slimy) to pick the soup up and eat it. The first couple of days were fine, but now... let's just say I'm really liking the rice and beans.

The first day at my homesay, I was eating by myself (a common occurance, with a family as large as mine it is hard to coordinate everyone to eat at the same time, so they serve me by myself) and I was eating chicken in a stew. There was a bowl to put the chicken bones in to the side, and finished with some I had cast away the bones. Kufei (the youngest son of the family-- turning three at the end of the month) came up, took the bones, and started eating the bits I had left on.

Needless to say it was surprising.

Running out of time again. Oye. I'll end here, with more intended for later. A bunch of us (Claire, Lydia, Rachel, Mara, Natalie, Megan, Jessie, and the other Megan) are venturing to the beach today. It will be our first unchaperoned excursion. Should be entertaining, to say the least.

Until later!

Lo

First Post

Lots to say, little time.
I am here, in Ghana and it is awesome. I will blog whenever possible, but (I state again) I am in Ghana. Therefore no promises can be made because I most likely will not be able to keep them. But I will try.
The people here are nice, both the students in my program and those charged with our care. I do not anticipate any major problems during my stay here, and for that I am glad.
Jetlag is still a bitch, but thanks to the lovely pharmacy I brought with me, I have had good nights and passable sleeps.
I am with my homestay family currently. Aunti Emma, Papa Samuel, their three sons (and another on the way) are the main family, but they share their house with Aunti Emma's mother, her sister, her sister's husband, and their new baby girl (two months old, I believe? My Twi is very poor). It is a chaotic household and VERY noisy, but they have taken me into the flow of their schedule without any major bumps (thus far).
More later.

Until then,
Lo