Compared to my last Halloween, this October 31st was uniquely wholesome, simple and joyful. As interesting as it was to be lost in the streets of Santa Barbara among thousands of drunk college students, dressed as Naughty Nurses or Slutty Bees, laughing at my brother and his frat boy friends in Hooters girls’ uniforms, I actually preferred the tailored African rendition of the holiday this year. Since I don’t know any other foreigners this time, I had to educate the family and neighbors on our glorious but difficult-to-explain American tradition. With the costume materials avai [View Full Entry]

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Well, after a month of weighing babies and vaccinating pregnant women, finally being on the other end of the needle, and getting to know the whole staff of the Department of Disease Control, I am ready to move on to the ward for some new experiences and skills. I was supposed to get my orientation on Monday but as it turned out, I met the medical ward a few days early, as a patient... again. A sudden bout of food poisoning hit me hard Saturday morning (for the first time since 2005!) just before I was getting ready to go to [View Full Entry]

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A lazy day here is different from one at home. Because you have the sense that whatever you did or didn’t do, it was enough. It was enough to just live, to feel the sweat sticking the clothes to your body and feel the heat of the sun envelope you like a fire does burning embers. It was enough to step outside and leisurely make your way down the dirt road to greet the neighbors, to buy a yam and some oranges. Of course you may have slept too much and missed out on a more interesting excursion, but there’s always [View Full Entry]

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Not quite as rural, but I almost feel like I am on an episode of ER in the Congo. Except there is no Dr. Carter at my side and no director yelling “Cut!”-- this is the solo, real-life adventure I always wanted. And I’m realizing that it’s not as fun laughing to yourself as it is constantly sharing those laughs with others. Still good, as Owusu says, but not the best. However, with a fever, nausea and a running stomach, I am not in the highest of spirits anyway. Most of the time in Ghanaian hospitals, in emergency departments especially, it’s [View Full Entry]

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I feel like visiting an orphanage in Africa (or any other developing country for that matter) is one of those things you might find listed on the website stuffwhitepeoplelike.com, which makes fun of the seemingly normal but somehow ridiculous interests of middle-class caucasians. I admit that I once felt noble telling people at home that I had just returned from Ethiopia, volunteering at a homeless soup kitchen and holding orphan babies. Even though it was a temporary treat for the kids I served, the experience was more about me, and the effect it would have on my life. And I guess [View Full Entry]

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It has occurred to me that people might be wondering about Becky and the family that I am staying with. I feel like a full update on their situation is in order, since so many people contributed to their livelihood last year. In case you were out of the loop, Becky is a woman I met working in the street children's day-care I volunteered at (see "The Meaning of Christmas" entry) who was orphaned at age 15 and widowed in 2006. Our friendship grew from the time I first arrived in Ghana and though I knew she was struggling, she never [View Full Entry]

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Today I chose to completely let go and live moment to moment. Maybe it is because I wore high heels for the first (and last!) time in Ghana and knew each step had to be taken delicately. Or maybe it’s because I was tired of the worries that followed me overseas and needed to take action. But I think I made the choice consciously when I woke up early to finish reading My Sister’s Keeper and cried a little over a mug of tea, bread and groundnut paste. Thinking about people dying young made everything suddenly more vivid, every minute filled [View Full Entry]

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I wake up late, wondering how I managed to sleep through the pre-dawn whirlwind of getting the kids ready and off to school. My body is heavy with the dreams I’m still partly dreaming but I pull myself out of bed so that the house girl, Modda (“Mother” in a Ghanian accent), won’t think of me as the princess Becky insists that I be. As I eat the remaining half of a bread roll for breakfast, my friend Daniel, who is a rising musician signed by a big recording company, calls me to say that his manager says I should write [View Full Entry]

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Five a.m. the rooster sounds the alarm, a fire is started to make tea, buckets of water are fetched from the well, and the day begins. After stepping onto the warm red earth, smiles and waves follow me down the long road I walk twice a day, which instantly fill me with energy. Beads of sweat bubble on my forehead and shoulders, waiting for a gracious breeze to free themselves, and thanks to the last weeks of the Wet Season, wind flows often. I stop to chat with women wrapped in brightly colored cloth that already know my name, as the [View Full Entry]

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In its third year of existence, the University of Ghana swim team is far from serious. But considering the extremely low percentage of Ghanaians who even know how to swim, our group of 15 aspiring swimmers is pretty impressive. In preparation for the West African University Games, we practiced twice a day, commuting to international school pools in the back of Joel’s chipped red pick-up, and eating together afterwards in the Sarbah Dining Hall, which provides free meals for athletes. Our coach, Mobutu, liked to wear European-looking speedos on the deck and fortunately only showed up [View Full Entry]

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