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Published: April 15th 2009
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Hello,
I got to school early to check my e-mail but, as usual, the internet is not working. So is my technological life here.
A few weekends ago, some friends and I traveled about 2 hours east to the small town of Ada Foah, located where the Volta River meets the ocean. Upon arrival, we were met by a boat at the market to take us where we would be staying the night. After a short ride, we pulled up on a beautiful strip of land about 200 meters across, one side bordered by the Volta, the other, by the ocean. We spent the day relaxing at the beach and crowded ourselves around a bonfire once night fell. The next day, we walked back through the town to the fish market and got a tro-tro home. It was really relaxing. I’m hoping to go back before we leave.
This past weekend, some friends and I made our way to the small village of Liati Wote in the Volta region, located at the base of Ghana’s highest mountain, Mt. Afadjato. It was, by far, my favorite place I’ve visited since I’ve been here. Upon arrival, we were all taken
aback by the utter silence that surrounded us, something impossible to find in the busy streets of Accra. The area is covered in vegetation and reminded me of the kind of “green” only associated with Washington summers. The people of this town were some of the most genuinely friendly I’ve ever met. The day after we arrived, we climbed to the top of the 3000ft mountain and saw some spectacular views of the surrounding area. The next day, we took a walk through some cocoa and coffee plantations to nearby Tagbo Falls. The water was refreshingly cold and was one of the first times (besides my morning showers) I’ve felt chilled here. It reminded me of home. There is little regular public transportation through the town so I felt pretty lucky when, on my day of departure, I was able to pay a local man $3 to take me down the mountain on the back of his motorcycle (goggles and helmet not included). I hope to go back before I leave.
I started working at a local orphanage, Osu Children’s Home, last week. I work mainly in the nursery with the kids that are anywhere from 12 to 24
months old. So far, its been difficult and tiring, but very rewarding. The orphanage is severely understaffed so I am sometimes left to care for 25+ toddlers by myself for several hours. I’ve been going early in the mornings so that gives me plenty of time to take a nap when I get home later in the day.
Working at the orphanage is a very eye-opening experience. The quality of care is much different than that of social facilities in the United States. However, although many people would consider the conditions at the home “deplorable” and “unsanitary” (which they are), in reality, the kids are living a better life there then had they stayed with their parents. I was going through their files the other day, looking at the reasons for admission to the home. The reasons are split fairly evenly between “Abandoned”, “Deceased Parents” and “Deranged Mother”. About half the kids I work with are HIV positive and have severe separation anxiety. Even when I hold three or four at once, there are five or six more sobbing because they’re not being held.
I had a friend ask me what it felt life to hold a two-year
old with HIV, knowing that the child will, most likely, live a very short, painful, life. I responded, “Well how do you want me to feel?” Her question angered me because it typifies how Americans perceive these children: one pathetic pity case after another, something you see on late night TV commercials and feel guilty for quickly changing the channel. I know she wanted me to give some simplistic, “Oprah-esc” sob story about how difficult it is and how much the experience makes me want to cry. In all honesty, I do feel that way when I work with some of these kids. How could you not? But I choose to view these kids as more than a receptacle for the funding of Western donors. Pity will never help the situation of these children. When I hold one of these kids, they become more than a flashing light on a screen that can disappear with the click of a remote, they become real, living, breathing people. A cynic will hold one of these children and feel as though they are holding death, which in a sense, they are. However, when I hold these kids, I see a child who is
defiantly staring death in the face and laughing. Although some of the kids with HIV feel pretty horrible sometimes, they almost always want to get up and play. So to answer her question, “What does it feel like to hold a two year old with HIV?” Motivating.
Enjoy the pictures.
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Mom
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Thanks for an uplifting entry. I am so proud of the man you have become. Always remember the lives you touch are better for having known you. Love, Mom