Sabrina

I have always enjoyed the movie Sabrina, even though I must admit with some embarrassment that I have never seen the Audrey Hepburn classic, only the Julia Ormond/Harrison Ford remake. In it, Sabrina tells her father that one of her favorite things about him is that he became a chauffer simply so he could have time to read. She said she imagines him sitting in a long procession of cars, waiting for the Larrabees, and reading.

That being said, I am seriously considering becoming a chauffer. One of the things I enjoy so much about living in Ghana is that life is slow enough for me to read. In just over four months, I have read what is inching closer and closer to twenty books. And I have added some new favorites to my old favorites…like East of Eden and A Tale of Two Cities. I love that I finally have time to read and enjoy the classics I was supposed to read in high school.

I am also seriously considering going the route of unemployment. Then my reading time would not be obstructed by the bothersome task of driving. Plus, no other job besides unemployment will provide me with the amount of time necessary to do the amount of traveling I intend to do once I get home – and from then on, for that matter.

I will worry about finances later. I think that is enough major life decisions for one day.

This is a picture I did not take of the most contented man I have ever known, crying silently into his handkerchief. He had just received news of the death of his young daughter. And a baby girl, unable to sit still, tottered over to him. He took her into his arms. And for one moment she was still. And for one moment he stopped crying, content again.

June

Calendars and Americans have been trying to convince me lately that it is Christmas time. A small, silly part of my brain does the calculations - I came here in September and I've been here three months, so it must be December. But, the rest of my brain is too smart to believe something that preposterous. It can't be December if I am sleeping with the windows open and wearing sandals. It must be June. That is the only logical conclusion.

My parents arrive here tomorrow night. I am really excited, and a little nervous. I am worried about them being bored here, but the fact of the matter is that compared to the rush and efficiency that is America, Africa might be a little boring. Travel is a problem, too, when you combine my mom's bad back with the pitiful state of the roads here. I'm quire sure the next two weeks will be completely beyond my control, but I'm sure they will be good.

My Christmas present to myself? A real, custom-made, African djembe. Molly, Lauren and I each got one, and we are even learning to play them. We will be traveling minstrels before you know it.

My early Christmas present to you? Well, there are two - the first, and lesser in terms of excitement, is that I posted some new pictures on the website. I have always been a firm believer in save the best for last, and with that in mind, the second early Christmas present is this: I will be back Stateside on May 5th. I guess that is more of a really late Christmas present than an early one...

This is a picture I did not take of Lauren and Dinah doing an impressive showing of Walk Like an Egyptian, while Molly and I pretended to know how to play our djembes. Fine performances all around.

A day without turkey...

Top 10 Things About My Ghanaian Thanksgiving:

1. Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song at breakfast
2. Hurling yam balls
3. Dinner music provided by Shaggy, including the "Angel of the Morning" remix and "It Wasn't Me"
4. Old-school hand turkey centerpiece
5. Wisdom singing: "Happy Thanksgiving to America...Happy Thanksgiving to America...We are now a part of America...Even though we live in Ghana..."
6. Mama Pat calling us her kids
7. Wisdom singing: "I'll never forget the day that Jesus washed my sins away...I'll never forget Lauren...I'll never forget Molly...I'll never forget Lesley...I'll never forget Dinah...I'll never forget the day that Lesley fed us lots of food..." And from Christian, the backup singer: "...never, never, never..."
8. Feasting with eight Ghanaians who thought it was America's anniversary
9. Talking to my whole family in New Mexico as they passed the phone around at my aunt Carolyn's house
10. Esenam, with her big beautiful smile that comes out when you least expect it, shy, gracious, and so very, very kind

This is a picture I did not take of the looks of absolute confusion on our faces as people around the table began to raise their plastic plates up in the air, and we timidly followed suit and stifled our laughter. Cheers!

Pause

I took a pause from teaching and village life to go back to Accra, the land of good internet access, for a couple of days. We are going to brave the downtown market tomorrow, which is the scariest place in the city, quite possibly in the whole country, if you ask me.

We went to the Amedzofe waterfall last weekend. It is an incredibly steep hike down to it, so much so that you have to hang on to a rope as you descend. The whole thing was very Indiana Jones. I only fell once...but I am somewhat ashamed to admit it was before we even got to the part with the rope. The falls were beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Being there was one of those moments where I just paused, and it hit me, I live in a village in Africa.

Another thing that makes me pause and realize that I live in a village in Africa are all of the creatures. Giant millipedes are my least favorite. Followed at a close second by giant spiders and giant cockroaches. The three of us are becoming much more adept at killing them, but we haven't quite figured out how to do it without screaming. Give it time...

This is a picture I did not take of Lauren, Molly, and me, having a Celine Dion dance party in a darkened room with a bunch of Africans and two women who are about 60 years old. Priceless.

Apples

Using pictures on this site often makes me feel artistic and interesting. However, when the best internet connection I can hope for is pitiful on a good day, it’s just not worth it. I hope you all still find me artistic and interesting with just my unphotographs to look at.

My first day of school. Research Methods. I have three students. I am the youngest person in the room. The oldest is 30 years older than I am. My classroom has no electricity, windows that are missing glass, a broken door knob, rickety old wooden desks and chairs, cobwebs galore, dirty cement floors, and an extraordinarily dirty chalkboard, with hand-made erasers that look as though they have never been cleaned. It is very African. I actually enjoy it. Simple.

For my first class, I wanted to give them a taste of why Research Methods is an important topic for them, and show them some of the things we will be learning. My class is scheduled to meet for three hours, but I planned to let them out after two, since it was the first day. After two hours, I told them they were free to go, but they could stay and ask me any questions if they wanted.

The first question: “Are you married?”

This is a common question for me lately. I proceed to explain that no, I am not, and the ring I wear was a gift from my mother. I had to draw what a typical American engagement ring looks like on the board to explain why people in the US don’t confuse me for a married woman.

After that, all the questions turned political. Since all of you know how very politically minded I am (or am not, as the case may be), you can all guess how much I enjoyed the next hour of questions.

Here is the best part, though. As soon as class actually ended, my youngest student (who is 32, still 10 years older than I am) said he had something to give to me. He opened his bag and pulled out a bushel of bananas. Like the African version of an apple for the teacher. I laughed to myself the whole way home.

This is a picture I did not take of myself, walking through the town square, being followed by a herd of tiny African children in school uniforms, none of whom I know, who giggle every time I make eye contact with them.

Friday

What do these three things have in common?
1. "ef-wa"
2. "ef-fee-ah"
3. "ef-fee"

They are all different tribal ways to pronounce my African name, Afua. Or, Auntie Afua, as I am often called.

What do these three things have in common?
1. April 29, 1983
2. October 24, 1986
3. December 19, 1986

They all fell on a Friday.

In Ghana, everyone has two names - the first is their given name, the second is their "born" name. I am Afua, which means "Friday born." So, when Molly and Lauren arrived this evening, one of the first orders of business was to discover what their African names would be. Lo and behold, we are all Friday born. This could make communication interesting... I am so glad they are here!

This is a picture I did not take of a little girl, no more than three years old, with a solitary braid standing up in homage to Alfalfa, a pink floral dress, and combat boots, sticking her head through the barrier at the airport to smile at me.

Apprentice

Today, on my three week anniversary as a Ghanaian, I went to church in Nima. It is the poorest, and most densely populated area of Accra. Approximately one million of the three million people in Accra live here, and it is considered a Muslim stronghold. I was asked to speak. Everything was translated into three different languages. I love that. It feels like heaven.

These little boys were in charge of the percussion section. (Please note their apprentices.) They played while the people danced and sang. They were spectacular. Maybe if I ask them nicely, they will let me be an apprentice, too.

This is a picture I did not take of two goats, marching back and forth on the steps in front of a vacant building, like the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.