The Tag-Alongs: Part 1

It's late, but I can't sleep. The last couple months have been hard on me, but I think I'm finally ready to start sorting things out. I'm sick again, which is probably why I can't sleep. I haven't slept very much lately, so I've spent a lot of nights just tossing, turning, and thinking--about everything. The whole of my life. And 20 years is a long time to sift through. But I won't give you 20 years of thoughts here. This post will be a health update. Reflection will follow, when I have more energy.
To begin with, I have dysentery. I had a whole slew of health problems after returning from Ghana, including digestive issues and weight gain, but all the testing I went through gave me a clean bill of health. So I started eating better, picked up running again, and got a natural detox going (just to be sure I didn't have any microscopic passengers tagging along from Ghana). It didn't take long before my old jeans fit again and I was back on top of my game. I was ecstatic! Then last Friday, out of the blue, I was doubled over in pain trying to serve customers at my new job. By 8:30 I was sitting in Ottawa General with my poor sister-in-law waiting to see a doctor. I was so dehydrated from being sick I thought I might pass out. I felt bad for the doctor they sent in to see me, he was a resident and obviously had no idea what he was getting into when he asked for my medical history. He furiously scribbled away for half an hour while I rambled on about all the different things I'd been diagnosed with in the past. The tests they took were horrible. The nurse kept poking my right arm but all my veins were dried up from dehydration so she couldn't get any blood out of them for samples. She then moved to my left, at which point I got queasy feeling. Her response to my warning of a potential "man-down!" was "Just think happy thoughts!" She seemed genuinely disappointed when she asked what I was thinking about and I said "Nothing. My head feels like a bubble." She then requested if I could please try not to pass out on my way back to the waiting room. My condition had only worsened, they had not given me an IV, and yes, as shocking as this may sound, they were sending me home because they just didn't have room for me and according to the head doctor "It's not our problem". I walked out of the hospitable at 2:30 AM wondering whose problem it was...
I went to my brother's for the night so I didn't have to be alone and decided to travel home the next day with his family despite intentions to stay in Ottawa over Thanksgiving. I couldn't look after myself and had no family left in town that weekend to rely on. The trip back to Peterborough was one of the longest I'd ever made, including all the Greyhound milk-runs I've been on through the years. We had to keep stopping when I felt sick, my niece was grumpy from pulling her first all-nighter, and my nephew didn't understand why we weren't "there yet". The comfort of arriving home didn't last long though. At 3AM my mom rushed me to Peterborough Emergency, my second home, because I was in so much pain. I went through the ropes again. The waiting, the medical history, the waiting, the testing, the waiting... But this time I was rewarded: HELLO SALINE INFUSION! It only took three tries to get the IV in (a new record by Canadian healthcare professionals-I currently look like a junkie I have so many holes and bruises up my arms) and then sweet, sweet, bliss! (Saline is one of my best friends to date, although I'm hoping we see each other less often in the future.)
I returned home on Sunday with a little more pep and hope that I would get some news soon about my condition. Thursday rolled around. I was still sick and I still hadn't heard anything. So I called my doctor, who was on vacation. I called his on-call, who isn't open all day Thursday or at all on Fridays. So I called the on-call's on-call, who is open all day but only answers the phone between 7-10 AM and 2-4PM. Fed up, I called Emerge and asked to speak to the "Charged Physician", which I was told isn't usually okay, but I must've sounded desperate enough that the operator put me through. The doctor on-duty put me on hold while he went down to the lab to personally look for my file, which they "forgot" to send to my doctor or call me about. Turns out I have a shigella bacterial infection, causing dysentery. The doctor figures its the same infection I had while I was in Ghana, but the doctors there only gave me enough treatment to put the little guys in remission. Last Friday was their "Welcome Back" party (don't be offended if you weren't invited, the party games sucked). The doctor had never seen a two-month lapse before, but then again, he'd never had me for a patient either. He wrote me a prescription for ciprofloxacin and asked me to stay in town due to my bad track record with antibiotics.
I also found out that, in Canada, shigella infection is considered a rare disease. By law, the hospital had to report my case to the Public Health Unit, who then had to report to the government. I also received a home visit from a nurse so she could write up a report on my condition and inform me as to how I should proceed. Essentially, read the info packet on shigella that was downloaded off the internet and wash your hands lots. It was very enlightening!
I am now off school for another week, after already missing a week and three midterms, while I wait to see whether or not these antibiotics work. I'm not getting my hopes up--these are the same antibiotics I was on in Ghana, and shigella are known to build resistance to treatment, especially after multiple drug exposures. The cipro has already started to wreak havoc on my stomach, which constantly aches when empty. To try and counteract the terrorization of my gut I'm downing a 50 billion count acidophilus capsule once a day (the highest dose you can legally obtain). I like to think of them as my little mercenary team.
Today was a better day. I didn't nap once, got through some homework, and was able to take my dog for a walk without feeling like I was going to collapse. I also ate a veggie burger and a piece of apple pie--it sure beat broth and jello!
On the upside I am incredibly thankful that I am at home where I can get treatment for this sickness, even if it is slow-moving. Dysentery kills numerous people every day who simply can't afford, or don't have access to, treatment, healthcare, hygiene education, or sanitation facilities. I have all these things, along with an amazing support team made up of all those I love. There are a lot of sick people in the world who have no one but medical staff to rely on and illness is scary enough without having to go through it alone. I'm really one of the lucky ones, and that's what I'll think about next time anyone asks me to "think happy thoughts". Also, I would take a hundred cases of dysentery before I would ever regret traveling to Ghana, so if you're thinking about traveling overseas to learn something about the world, don't let this stop you! A little infection is a small price to pay for a wealth of knowledge. Shigella is just one of the many exciting things I brought home from Ghana, so be sure to read my follow up in a couple days!

Sweet dreams world...

Ghana Photo Slideshow

This is a selection of some of the photos I took while in Ghana. I have decided not to post any photos of Gbi Special School yet because those photos will eventually be posted on the website I am creating for them. I hope you enjoy!

The Follow-Up

So I've realized that I'm not yet totally prepared to write a post about my feelings upon returning home to Canada from Ghana, but what I can do is tell you about my last days in Accra, which ended up being pretty amazing.

As it turned out I wasn't alone at the Crystal Hostel, I was just the only one staying in the main house with Seth and Auntie (the couple that owns the hostel). Outside were two other guest houses, one of which had a rooftop pavilion overlooking Accra where I spent a lot of time journaling, doing beadwork, and hanging out with the "vicious" guard dogs. Some really cool people were also staying at the hostel including a musician who was collaborating with locals artists on an album, a film-maker, a student writing his thesis on the evolution of childhood in Ghana, and a group of girls from London who were trekking across Ghana to learn leadership skills and build self-confidence. I ended up eating breakfast with the English girls both mornings and helping them plan different excursions around Accra. They were spending 28 days in Ghana and had already travelled through 11 villages and worked on various community projects and participated in a number of cultural activities. What I thought was really cool about their trip was that these girls were only 15-18 years old and were in total control of everything that happened. They had 3 adult chaperones but they were responsible for managing their budget, finding transportation, planning activities, and looking for food and lodging. They took everything one day at a time and would wake up each morning to decide where they would go that day. I was really impressed with how mature they all seemed!

On the Monday I spent my morning doing beadwork and then caught a tro tro through Kaneshie Station to Osu. I met up with Sophia and her roommate Marine and we headed to a new Thai Restaurant called Zion. The restaurant is owned by a legit Thai woman and her cooking is SUPERB! If you plan on heading to Accra I would highly recommend this place, especially if you're vegetarian (she had real tofu!!). After lunch I browsed around Global Mamas and got some shea butter products, wrote an extensive apology email to Ms. Francois at New Horizon Special School and then grabbed a massive salad from Frankie's for dinner before heading back to Darkuman. This fellow named Delight (the names in Ghana are wonderful!) helped me catch the right tro tro back to Kaneshie and was definitely one of the nicer guys I met during my time in Ghana. He was really disappointed to hear that I was leaving the next day and made sure to give me three different phone numbers where I could reach him the next time I came back to Accra. Even though I have held onto these numbers most Ghanaians change their phone numbers on a regular basis so I'm not going to hold out too much hope that they will still be valid two or three years from now!
I got lost after reaching Kaneshie Station and picking a cab to Darkuman because the streets have no names in the neighbourhood I was staying in and I had not memorized my way around the complex maze of roads and back alleys overnight. I ended up calling Seth who directed my cabbie to a filling station and sent his buddy NaNa over to meet me. NaNa is this really friendly guy who owns a craft shop behind the Crystal Hostel. Apparently Auntie and Seth really helped him get back on his feet after a difficult time and he's become very close friends with them, helping them out whenever he can. Aside from leading me back to the hostel in one piece he also called one of his buddies and organized a ride to the airport for me for the following night. I was so grateful for his help! That night I called mom and dad to let them know the cockroaches were the biggest threat at Crystal Hostel and I would be able to happily stay there for another night. I slept like a friggin' log.

Tuesday got off to a crazy start. The English girls talked to me over breakfast about costs for chartering vans and were disappointed to hear that the driver they had been using for the last three days had been hugely ripping them off and lying to them left, right, and centre about the costs of driving in Ghana. I told them they should definitely re-negotiate prices for the next leg of their journey so when their driver arrived that morning four of the girls approached him about bringing down his price. The driver was not happy and was definitely the rudest and most aggressive business person I ever encountered while in Ghana. The girls offered him more than necessary for a 3 hour drive to their next destination considering he was driving a rusted out box with no luggage room, broken windows, no A/C, and broken signal lights, but he wouldn't budge on his initial price. First he tried to guilt trip them explaining how he was a poor man just trying to scrape by in this awful world. When that didn't work he accused them of being racist, which was amusing considering the group consisted of three white girls, two black girls, and about 10 brown girls. His next move was to tell them that they were being horrible Christians and God would smite them for their greed and meanness. At this point he was screaming at them and Daryl (the girls' male chaperone) got involved. The driver began outright insulting Daryl calling him every name under the sun and making very aggressive gestures towards him. I told the other girls to forget this driver, even if he came down in price he couldn't be trusted and didn't deserve their business after being so rude. I sent them over to NaNa to find a new driver with a better vehicle and fairer pricing. NaNa came over a few moments later to try and calm this guy down. The driver then ran inside the hostel to tattle to Seth and look for back-up. An intense debate ensued and the driver lunged at NaNa and Daryl repeatedly while Seth tried to calm everybody down. NaNa was just laughing at the foolishness of this driver and then left to bring the girls' new driver over. It took almost an hour to get this disgruntled driver off the property but the girls were then placed in much better hands, which made me happy. I said goodbye to them and wished them luck on the rest of their journey before hopping on a tro tro to the University of Accra at Legon.

My plan was to spend the day wandering through the botanical garden where I could spend time reflecting on my trip and collect some of my thoughts before leaving. I also wanted to check out the library (the largest and oldest in West Africa), the bookstore, and the Museum of Archaeology, which houses some of the skeletons of pre-human species and has been heavily involved in the human genome project. As usual, my plan quickly fell apart (all a part of some greater power trying to teach me the benefits of being flexible)! I arrived on campus and headed in the direction the Bradt Guide indicated the Botanical Gardens should be. Along the way I stopped students to double check I was headed the right way (this campus is huge and really stunningly beautiful). One of these students happened to be Gideon who decided not only would he show me the way but, like a helpful Ghanaian should, he would give me a full-fledged guided tour of the Gardens. At first this really ticked me off because I had come here specifically for alone time, but I had been reading "Me to We" and decided to embrace their reminder about the importance of gratitude and be thankful for the company. Gideon spent most of our walk grilling me on Canadian culture, politics, and my personal life--he was extremely interested in learning about a foreign country. What I found amusing was he frequently spoke as though he knew Canada saying things like "It is such a beautiful country", "the people are so friendly", and "I love Toronto". When I asked if he had traveled there he said "Yes, somehow." He hadn't of course, but in general Ghanaians do not like to admit to not knowing things, so he acted as though he had been to Canada and knew the country. He also pretended he knew his way around the Gardens and managed to get us lost 3 times. His third strike was asking about my favourite kind of pet, to which I replied "Chinchillas". He said he also loved chinchillas, but when asked what they looked like he said he had forgotten so I laughed and explained what they were. I then decided it would be a good time to tell him that he didn't have to pretend to know everything--nobody knows everything! I felt bad that Ghanaians were always so afraid of being judged if they got something wrong or didn't have an answer. I was constantly reassuring people that admitting to a gap in knowledge or asking questions wouldn't cost them our friendship! After our walk, which included seeing the experimental farm, the fish breeding grounds in the man-made lake, and the donkeys and horses in the orchard, I bought Gideon lunch to thank him for his kindness and help. After lunch he insisted on taking me to the internet cafe so I could see his family. I was hesitant because my time was almost up and I hadn't done half of what I had planned but he insisted so off we went. After looking at hundreds of photos of his mother, father, nieces, nephews, and 6 sisters and being told repeatedly that I would "know them very well soon" and "meet them in the near future" we finally signed off and headed out. He then wanted me to meet his friends so he took me over to the boys' dormitory, which by the way reeked of urine. He took me into this one room where two of his friends were standing in their underwear to introduce me. Out in the hall boys were cat-calling at me and Gideon was happily accepting the high-fives and suggestive comments from them. I was very uncomfortable and told him I was leaving. We said our goodbyes and I quickly ran off to the bookstore where I indulged my obsession with classic literature at half the price I can pull off in Canada. I never made it to the library or the museum.

Back at the tro tro stop I stood around for 45 minutes while tro tro after tro tro passed by me full of people. I was getting anxious because it was after 3 PM and I knew the tro tro ride back to the hostel would take over an hour. My ride to the airport was going to be picking me up at 6 PM and before then I had to finish packing, shower, eat dinner, and settle my bill. In desperation I sent out a prayer and to my astonishment it was answered only moments later! A taxi pulled up with two young guys and a girl in it. They asked where I was going and told me they could take me to Achimota Station. I kept asking how much because if you don't negotiate a price BEFORE getting in the vehicle cab drivers will frequently rip you off. They just laughed and said "Don't worry, it's free"! I found this hard to believe but didn't have much choice at that point so I took a leap of faith and hopped in. To my surprise the guy in the front passenger's seat was listening to an iPhone and when he started up a conversation used North American sarcasm and humour. He introduced himself as Mol and told me the driver, Selorm, was his buddy and the girl in the back seat, Karen, was his daughter, which confused the hell out of me because she was so close to his age! I just assumed he meant he had a young daughter with the same name as this girl (Ghanaians frequently refer to those around them with family titles if they have the same name as one of their family members despite lacking any biological relation--for example a man in Hohoe had a sister named Jessica so he always referred to me as his "little sister" and he became my "big brother"). This assumption turned out to be very wrong. Mol realized I was confused and explained that the three of them had grown up in a Christian Community just beyond Achimota. In essence this community was a squatter's settlement where everyone lived in complete poverty. Mol had grown up working odd jobs to put himself through school and was so passionate about the people in his community that at 20 years of age he founded an NGO called Global Ghana Youth Network to assist the kids who struggled so much. Mol provided schooling to these kids 5 days a week, gave them clothing and shoes to wear, and provided them with two meals a day. He referred to Karen as his daughter because he had literally raised her over the past 5 years. Today his organization supports more than 75 street children in Accra and has attracted volunteers and sponsors from around the globe. Most of Mol's support came from the U.S. where he used to travel to frequently to give educational seminars on poverty in Accra and raise funds for his project. Unfortunately much of this support has ceased following the economic crisis and Mol is struggling to keep the program together while jumping through hoops to gain registered charity status under the 501 (C) Bill in the U.S. Soon we were talking about the possibility of him traveling to Canada in the coming year to give presentations to various community and University organizations I had connections to and he was giving me advice on how to proceed in starting up a Vocational Training Foundation for the students at Gbi Special School. I could not believe my good fortune at having been the one to climb into this cab! We exchanged contact information and when I tried to hand Mol gas money for the ride he refused saying "What goes around will come around" and climbed out of the cab to hug me goodbye and wish me a safe journey home. Mol, Selorm, and Karen were each so inspirational and so incredibly self-less. I'm blessed to have been able to stay in touch with them since arriving home and we email back and forth almost every other day. I would highly encourage everyone following this blog to take a moment to check out Global Ghana Youth Network's website because they are doing amazing things in Accra!
Global Ghana Youth Network:
http://www.ggyn.org/

I didn't get back to the hostel until after 5 PM and quickly scarfed dinner, showered, and packed. I was pretty impressed that I managed to fit everything into one suitcase (minus my drum)! I settled my bill (only $40GH for two nights, three meals, and bottled water! I would highly recommend the Crystal Hostel to anyone traveling to Accra on a tight budget!) and ran out to say goodbye to NaNa and catch my cab. The drive to the airport took an hour and a half including a ten minute stop at the grocery store for airplane snacks. Check-in was pretty quick, thank goodness, but I had to laugh as I watched a bunch of Ghanaians cutting lines and the reactions of disgruntled diplomats and ex-pats waiting patiently to enter our flight gate!

The flight to Frankfurt was an interesting one, mostly due to my seat partner, a Ghanaian guy who looked at least 25 and who was traveling with his sister and mother seated in front of us. His concept of personal space was non-existent. To go to sleep he constructed a tent using his blanket, swung his legs over the arm rest between us, and settled his elbow into my ribs. To top it all off he would occasionally peak out of his tent and glare at me as though my presence were preventing him from getting his beauty rest. At meal times (despite having only a six hour flight we managed to have supper and breakfast!) he would trade food items over the seats with his mother and sister, frequently spilling. His most glorious moment arrived when the plane hit turbulence. His response was to undo his seat belt, stand, jump up and down, hit the seats, and shout at his mother in excited Twi. I swear every eye in economy class seating was trained on him and I got a few pitying looks from the elderly ladies across the aisle from me. For his sake I hope it was his first time on an airplane and he was just overexcited about the novelty of hitting air pockets.

During my 7 1/2 hour layover in Frankfurt I played some sudoku, read a mac magazine, and spent almost three hours spilling my guts into my journal. I realized that I had a lot of pent up emotion from my trip and now that I was finally alone and in an environment separate from my experiences all of the emotions were swelling and tearing through me.

To be honest I still haven't been able to sort out how I feel, so until I do I will avoid posting about it. I was overwhelmed with happiness to be back on Canadian soil where I understand the people better and can function within the culture without making a million misjudgements or mistakes every time I turn around. Since getting back home I have spent a lot of time talking with friends and family about my experiences and I am often upset to discover that I tend to dwell on the more challenging things I confronted in Ghana, rather than the pleasant things. The pleasant things are just so easy to accept and I never needed to come to terms with them, whereas the negative experiences I had currently lie in a grey area and I was never given an opportunity to reflect on them or attempt to deal with them while in Ghana. One thing I can say is this trip opened my eyes in ways I never anticipated. I saw both the beauty and the darkness of Ghana, which I am so thankful for. My views on development and westernization have become much more complex and I am now sure that my life is headed in the right direction.

The question I am always asked is "Will you go back?" My simple answer is "Yes". I fell in love with the kids at Gbi Special School and made some really amazing friends in Ghana--I can't imagine having to go through life without seeing them again. My more complicated answer is "No". Because the person I am right now won't go back. The next time I travel to Ghana I hope that the person I am will have grown into something better. I will have to make sure to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for being completely unprepared for what I am about to walk into. I will have to figure out better ways of coping with my frustrations and my failures. I will have to accept how little I know about the world around me, and I will have to be okay with it. I will have to drop my judgmental attitude and take more time to stand in the shoes of those I meet.

In conclusion, I have a lot of traveling to do to places within myself before I will be ready to travel to places outside of myself again.

A Note on CCFC & The Last Post from Ghana!

So this is a little delayed but I just wanted to say a couple things about the Christian Children's Fund Canada program in Ghana. First of all, the staff here are absolutely amazing and totally dedicated to making the lives of these children a little bit better. They literally spend hours upon hours hunting hundreds of kids down in their communities to deliver letters and messages from donors abroad and send word back on how the kids are faring.

Secondly, the program is extremely well organized considering the lack of infrastructure in Ghana. They partner with community programs to service those families most in need with programs that are relevant to the culture and lifestyle of the area. In Abdul-Malik's community CCFC is partnered with Gumani Family and Child Care Program which not only looks out for the most needy kids in Gumani through the sponsorship program but also runs a number of community support projects. They organize educational workshops for the children in the community schools, fundraise and find grants from international bodies to support community facilities, and run a credit union that provides microloans to entrepeneurs and farming families. The women's cooperative is only one of the many businesses that has started as a result of the microloan program and now includes over 20 members. These ladies sat with me and spoke with such pride about the success of their business processing rice and producing shea butter. Currently they do everything by hand, but they were happy to tell me that they have been able to build a warehouse to work in along with a eletric motor and two grinding machines to expand business! They are now financially independent and able to support their families during seasons of poor harvest yields (which is happening more and more frequently due to the torrential rains and desertification of the north--the ground is deteriorating into sand and clay so when the rainy season arrives the water just sits on top of the land and drowns the crops). The women also mentionned how thrilled they were at being able to give their children things they always wanted but never had--like an education and a small treat from time to time. This sentiment really got to me because I hear parents in Canada say this all the time, it's one of the many universal feelings I have become more aware of during my time in Ghana.

Third, the organization IS talking about changing their name from Christian Children's Fund to just "Children's Fund" because having a religious affiliation has caused some major misconceptions about their organization. CCFC works for families from a variety of religious backgrounds. Their mission is not a prejudiced one, they simply want to help those who need it most. In Abdul-Malik's community 70% of the families in the program are Muslim, with the other 30% a combination of Christian and traditional tribal sects. I found this really reassuring and relieving.

Lastly, CCFC works in tandem with other international NGOs like UNICEF and World Vision to ensure that services do not overlap in any community. If World Vision is already serving one community in Ghana CCFC will look for a community that is not being supported to work in. This makes their programming a lot more efficient.

The thing that surprised me the most about my visit with Abdul-Malik was the incredulous looks on the faces of his peers as I pulled up to the school and the disbelief his family showed when shaking my hand. After our visit I asked the CCFC staff about whether or not my visit would make Abdul-Malik's friends jealous because very few sponsors ever visit (I was the first one here since spring of last year!). They just laughed and said no, absolutely not. My visit would do many things: it would raise the status of Abdul-Malik and his family in the community, it would raise the status of his school, but most importantly it would shatter the myth that sponsors don't really exist! HUH?! Apparently people in Ghana think the entire sponsorship program is a complicated hoax. They believe money is sent to the programs by faceless organizations and governments and then "sponsor families" are created to make them think somebody out there actually cares about their well being. This broke my heart, especially since many families refuse to participate fully in the program based on grounds of mistrust. It is often a struggle to get families to write response letters because they think they are just sitting in the staff office and being replied to by other Ghanaians. So my appearance in the community was a shock--they didn't believe I was really coming because they didn't believe I existed! I'm hoping my appearance will boost the trust in CCFC's programs and will send the message that people from North America DO care about their brothers and sisters in Africa.

All this being said, I would just like to note that I now fully endorse CCFC as a worthwhile organization to support. If you are interested in sponsoring a child and their community you should check out their website and consider choosing CCFC! (http://www.ccfcanada.ca/)

So currently I am in Accra, but I have had a crazy week! I made many new friends in Tamale which made my time much more enjoyable. My trip to Mole on Thursday was pretty interesting. I went to the Metro Mass Transit station for 6:00 AM to purchase a seat on the 9:00 AM bus to Damongo, which is a village about 5 km away from Mole. The bus arrived on Ghana time, which means 2 hours late, so we didn't arrive in Damongo until 2:30. (Side note: The road to Mole is not HALF as bad as the Bradt Guide makes it sound. The roads running through Hohoe were much worse!) At the Damongo station I bumped into two German volunteers who had the same plan as I did so we shared a cab to Mole. When we arrived at Mole it turned out I had been placed in a family suite alone, so there were two empty beds in the room. I offered these to the Germans (Dennis and Julia) for the same price as they would pay for a dorm bed and they leapt at the offer, saving me money and ensuring there would be someone to benefit from the included breakfast which I would miss! I was just in time for the 3:30 safari walk around the park. The walk was great and the reserve is absolutely stunning! I didn't see any elephants (although I did see evidence of their existance including tracks, tusk marks, and lots of dung!) but I saw many other creatures including antelope, bush bucks, wart hogs, three different types of monkey, parakeets, and wild hare. I was amazed how close the animals let us get before they would freak out and run away. Apparently the baboons and the wart hogs have become most accustomed to humans--they hang out around the staff community and have been known to seek into homes to steal food if the compound gates are not closed. The children living in the park are forbidden to eat food outside after some of them were attacked by the monkies for it! Most of the park seems untouched by humans though, which I liked. There was a beautiful silence about the whole place. All you could hear were wild animal calls and the grass rustling in the breeze. It was exactly the break from people I so badly needed. My guide was really knowledgeable about everything from animal tracking to national park laws so I learned a lot. Unfortunately he also took the opportunity to flirt incessantly, show off, and hand me his phone number in case I "needed him for anything". I just had to laugh!

My trip back from Mole was a bit of a nightmare. I was woken up at 3:30 AM the next morning to catch the 4:00 AM direct bus from Mole to Tamale, which is essentially a filthy, rusted, metal box on wheels. Myself and a handful of other tourists sleepily piled in and tried to get comfortable in order to catch a little more sleep before daybreak. WISHFUL THINKING! We also stopped to pick up a bunch of park staff and then stopped in Larabanga to fill the rest of the bus with villagers. As people piled in and filled every last square inch a number of fights broke out. Men outside the bus were pushing and shoving our female conductor around trying to get into the bus. Inside the bus a crazy old man was yelling at everybody in Hausa and banging his fists on the seat in front of him--it took half an hour to physically remove him. Then an argument started between the villagers and the park staff over why more buses didn't run through that area. All this at 4 in the morning! We didn't pull out of Larabanga until just before 7:00AM. We had been there for almost 3 hours and we still had to drop people off in Damongo and get through the 3 hour drive back to Tamale. It was brutal! I rested pretty much all day Friday and then went out that night to say goodbye to some local friends I had made. We had drinks at Crest on the rooftop patio under the stars while listening to a live band and doing some dancing. It was a great way to end my stay in Tamale.

I was up early again Saturday morning to catch a 6:30 AM bus to Accra. This time I traveled STC, which meant larger seats, cleaner interior, and A/C! I was in heaven ...at first. Our bus seemed a little dated as it chugged along and struggled to make it to the speed limit. In Kumasi we were stalled for two hours because one of the tires needed to be refilled and rotated. Our rest stops weren't great either offering filthy washrooms and canteens selling cookies and pop. My three meals consisted of digestive cookies and oranges that day. When we reached Accra we were stuck in traffic for over an hour and our driver managed to take the front ends off of three taxis. The main highway running through Accra is currently no more than a dirt runway because city planners thought it would be a good idea to expand and resurface the entire road in one fell swoop. Well, without any sort of lane markers or traffic control this road is now just like a large parking lot where hundreds of accidents occur everyday. Good one Ghana! On top of this we had passengers screaming out "BUS STOP!" (the command commonly used to get tro tros to drop you at the correct location) every 500 metres through town so then we would have to sit and idle while the driver dug through the luggage to find their belongings.

We were supposed to get to Accra at 5:30, but we actually arrived at 10:00. I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. I caught a cab to the Crystal Hostel where I am now staying. I was dropped in an alleyway in a dark neighborhood and told to walk down a pathway to a metal gate--the hostel apparently. I knocked and yelled "hello!" and was answered by angry guard dogs barking. Finally a lady came to open the gate and showed me into a house. My room was pretty shabby and not very clean. I went to check out the bathroom and two cockroaches scuttled under the wall. I was not in the mood to deal with pests all night. I went to lie down and realized the bed had no sheet on it. At this point I started crying and called my mom. Thank goodness for moms. She somehow managed to calm me down and I promised to get some sleep in hopes of seeing things a little brighter in the morning. And I did! It turns out the sketchy back alley is not the main entrance to this place and the house has a beautiful courtyard out front! The staff are super friendly and served me a lovely breakfast. Plus, the shower is one of the best I have been in while in Ghana. And the guard dogs are actually pretty docile. One of them curled up with me this morning!
Well I'm out of time! See you in Canada on Wednesday!

Movin' On Up

So I officially ended my Cross-Cultural Solutions program on July 23rd and have been in Tamale for the past 4 days. My goodbyes in Hohoe were difficult, and a little too rushed for my liking, but perhaps it was better to have it all happen quickly rather than dwelling on it. My last day at the school was awesome. I took a ton of photos with the kids and staff and despite all the hugging and "farewell for now"s it seemed like more of a celebration and a temporary goodbye than anything else. A couple of my girls cried, which broke my heart, but I reassured them I would be back to visit one day and that I would stay in touch through letters and photos in the meantime. And I meant it--despite all the challenges Ghana has handed me since I arrived here the kids at Gbi Special School made it all worth it. They made me fight to get better quickly when I was in the hospital and stopped me from booking a flight home early multiple times. They are the one thing I have never lost faith in while I have been here, and I would never fathom leaving such amazing relationships behind once I get back home. Just before I left the school I handed out lollipops to all the kids, which caused complete chaos. The processing company of those suckers definitely gets the award for most child-proof packaging--not a good thing considering I had 100 of those lollipops to open up. Anyway, it was a good time and I left feeling happy only having shed tears of joy.
I left for Tamale on a 3AM bus Saturday morning. My first leg of the journey was from Hohoe to Kumasi and took about 7 hours. It wasn't so bad because the bus was pretty empty and I was able to nap a little across some of the seats. The second half, from Kumasi to Tamale, was insanity. The bus was full, every seat taken and the aisles piled full of people's things including bulk packages of food. I had to bribe the driver $5GH just to make sure my luggage made it into the storage compartments underneath. And, of course, I ended up in a seat right between the two largest ladies on the bus. So I really had more of 1/2 a seat and was unable to move during the entire 8 hour bus ride up to Tamale. On the bright side I met two really friendly people who looked out for me--Valentine (a student from Rwanda who is studying Tourism, Hospitality, and Management in Accra) and Victoria (a business woman married to an army sergeant, also from Accra but originally from Tamale).
My first night in Tamale I stayed in a really sketchy place called Las Hotel. The rooms were decent, but pretty rundown, and the building looked like a warehouse inside with really ugly yellow-brown walls. To top it all off the nightclub on the ground-floor had re-opened since the last time the Bradt Guide was updated so there was music blaring and drunk people yelling outside all night long. I whipped out my earplugs for the first time since arriving in Ghana and managed to get a pretty good sleep. The only brownie points the place got was being located beneath the best Chinese Restaurant in town (so I had a really good veggie noodle dish for dinner) and having a receptionist who couldn't do math properly and accidentally forgot to add the VAT taxes to my hotel bill.
On Sunday I moved to The Tamale Institute of Cross Cultural Studies Guesthouse, which is located in a much better neighbourhood, has extremely clean rooms, friendly staff, is less expensive, and has a lovely compound with a courtyard and library full of books on Ghanaian culture and history. It is also right around the corner from Swad Fast Foods, a terrific restaurant with an extensive vegetarian section on the menu. I was in heaven. There are also a ton of international travelers who stay at the Guesthouse so I had no trouble finding people to hang out with, which was nice. On my first night I had dinner with a Dane, a Swede, and an Australian and quite enjoyed myself!
Monday was a busy day! I went to meet Abdul-Malik and his family in Tuunaayili, a suburb of Gumani. He has grown up so much since the last time we received a picture of him. No more baby fat and a lot taller than he used to be! He's still adorable though, and his shy mannerisms just make him that much more loveable. Our visit went extremely well and afterward I was taken to meet a women's cooperative that was established as part of a microfinance program that our monthly donations help to support. I will likely post more about Christian Children's Fund and their activities in another blog later today--I was happy to discover the organization is very legitimate and completely transparent. After my adventures I was feeling pretty weak and realized I had sunburned my scalp pretty badly (I had my hair plaited) and was likely suffering from heat stroke so I spent the rest of my day in bed.
Yesterday was pretty low key. I bummed around my room, wrote a really long journal entry, napped, and started my internship report. Last night I went out for dinner at Swad with two girls from Harvard who are here working on thesis papers. They are really nice and I had a lot of fun.
Today I am just going to be running errands and exploring Tamale a little more. It's raining so I'm not really looking forward to walking around outside but oh well! Tomorrow I'm off to Mole to see some elephants and on Saturday I head to Accra! I will likely post a little more later on, so stay tuned!

Immigration Disputes and Kente Cloth

Okay, I'm going to try and make this post brief but I'll pick up from where I left off. On Friday morning I went back out to the school to say a quick hello and to let everyone know I was okay. I was still exhausted however (antibiotics always kick my butt) so I spent the rest of the morning in bed. That afternoon I headed to Ho to have my visa renewed. As of that day it would expire and I would be considered an illegal immigrant in Ghana. I arrived at the immigration office around 2:30 and handed over all my identification to the immigration officers. I had only been in the office for 2 minutes when I was informed that I was being fined for overstaying my visa by two months. My jaw hit the floor. What the heck were they talking about?! They pointed out that I had been given a 60 day stamp on my passport but that the customs official at the airport had written a 12 over top of the 60 and circled it. That meant he had only approved me to stay in the country for 12 days. They had never seen anything like it before, especially with a CCS volunteer, but apparently it is legal to scribble over official documents in Ghana. They were going to fine me $80 GH for each month I had overstayed and $40 GH to have my visa extended. A whopping total of $200 GH that I didn't have to spend. I was livid. I have spent a small fortune on this trip, spent years saving to provide people with my help for free, and this was the way the country's officials said thank you. I quickly got on the phone with my program director, who was just as shocked as I was. Luckily he was friends with each of the immigrations officials and talked them down to a $100 GH charge. I am still pretty upset about the whole thing. Now CCS has to double check everyone's passports to make sure they have at least 30 days granted to be in country. The funniest part is I have been through multiple immigration checkpoints where I needed to present my passport and nobody ever said anything about it. I'm lucky--I could have been arrested on the spot for traveling illegally within the country. Anyway, I'm now allowed to be here until August 16th, although I will be leaving on August 2nd and not a day later if I can help it.
My weekend was pretty dull. I caught up on errands, did laundry, and worked on internship stuff. A new group of volunteers arrived, 17 in total. I was much better prepared for this group than the last. I have listened to their questions and concerns patiently and try my best to empathize with the emotions they are experiencing. I have three new volunteers with me at the Gbi Special School. I wish I could say it is going well, but they are all overwhelmed. I don't think they should have been sent out to the school at this point. School ends next Friday and the teachers are "busy" writing progress reports for parents so classes have been suspended until next term. As such, the school environment has deteriorated back into chaos. My classroom is the only one running lessons because I'm teaching. The new volunteers don't even know where to begin. I've been giving them suggestions and one of the girls is going to join me in my class where things are more tame and will take over once I leave. I'm also hoping that this group will be able to finish up a couple of projects that I started working on but didn't have time to complete thanks to my hospital vacation.
For the rest of the week my placement will be pretty low key. Tomorrow I will be teaching as usual and having a meeting with one of the staff who I am trying to assist with his vocational training program. On Thursday I'm going to get the kids to paint these clay pinch pot bowls I had them make in creative art two weeks ago. On Friday I am just going to play games with the kids, take pictures, hand out treats, and say goodbyes. I can't believe I only have three more days here. It is so surreal.
Yesterday I started kente cloth weaving lessons with a group of local weavers. Weaving on a real loom is much more complex than the frame I got used to weaving on in high school. Yesterday I just got used to the feel of the foot pedals, pulls, and shuttles while working out a simple checker pattern. I finished about 3/4 of a yard in 3 hours. Today I got started on learning kente designs. These are pretty difficult because you have to grab specific threads with your fingers while shooting the shuttle through and switching pedals. My short fingers and small hands don't help the process much. Wilson, my teacher, says I'm a quick learner though and apparently thinks I am a "natural kente master". I hope I don't disappoint. I have had neighbourhood kids watching me too--apparently they have never seen a white person weave OR a woman weave. It reminded me of when I originally went to request a quote for lessons and one weaver asked "Is it for a black man or a white man?" When I said "No, it's for me" he started laughing. When he realized I was serious his eyes just got really big and he looked as if he might pass out. I guess I am shaking things up in Hohoe.
Well, that's about it for excitement so far. My next three days will be super busy so I probably won't post again until after I reach Tamale. Wish me luck!

Be careful what you wish for...

As I had hoped, my trip to Accra was eventful, relaxing at times, and gave me plenty of quiet time to think and regain some of the energy I would need to face another influx of volunteers at the CCS homebase. What I didn't bank on was spending almost an entire week in Accra. Let me explain.
I will begin on Friday morning. I was up at 4:00 AM with Catherine to be driven to the airport in Accra where she would depart for home. George came with us to accompany me to New Horizons School later in the day. Our trip to Accra was fairly smooth despite being pulled over at roadblocks several times (once we were pulled over by a cop with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder simply so he could get my name and tell me how beautiful I was--as flattering as this may sound it was not what I wanted to hear after being woken up at 5:00 in the morning, especially considering he scared the crap out of our driver over nothing). We dropped Catherine at the airport and said our goodbyes. I didn't bawl my eyes out, but I did cry afterward. I wasn't quite sure what to do without my trusty support system beside me anymore.
George and I went and got breakfast at this ridiculously overpriced restaurant after discovering that Vasili's Bakery (this place with great muffins and fresh filtered coffee according to the Bradt Guide) had closed a year earlier. Then I checked in at my hotel and we headed to New Horizons. We met with the secretary, Joycelyn, and were asked to wait in her office until the director, Salome Francois, arrived. After a while I was escorted to her office. She didn't actually arrive until around 12:30, so I sat and watched while the students did wood-working and then practiced a dance number to a fairly catchy Ghanaian song. When she finally called me into her office the first words out of her mouth were "Who are you and why have you come here?" This was another "uh-oh" moment for me. She said that she was really confused as to why I had come to the school, especially since she had no idea who I was or who Cross-Cultural Solutions was. It turns out Joycelyn failed to tell my program director about the proper procedure for requesting a school visit and thought that she had the authority to allow us to enter the property. Miss Francois was not impressed--normally people have to send a letter directly to her explaining their intentions at the school and who they are (which I completely respect considering the vulnerable nature of the individuals that her facility serves). Of course Joycelyn had reassured CCS that our frequent phone communications with her would be enough to be given a tour of the school, so we didn't have a letter and all I could do was apologize profusely and try my best to explain why I was so interested in seeing the school. Miss Francois also seemed a little put off by the fact that I had chosen the CCS program over a volunteer placement at her school and was under the impression that I had come to Ghana to grant money to special needs schools and had chosen a government-funded school over her private school. Unfortunately Miss Francois' husband was ill that day and she needed to accompany him to a clinic to receive an injection of some sort. She said I was welcome to wait until she returned so we could talk further. I waited another 2 hours. Our second meeting went a little better than the first and I was able to clarify why I was in the country, why I had chosen CCS, what my interest in New Horizons School was, and that in the future my education might justify returning to Ghana to perform research at schools like New Horizon. When she realized how much I cared about the students she really warmed to me and she apologized for the mix-up that Joycelyn and CCS had put me in the middle of. She told me about her struggles establishing the school and gave me information on a parents' advocacy group she founded (PACID). I promised to write her an email to better introduce myself and my learning objectives in Ghana with hopes that I could visit the school within the following two weeks.
After the meeting I returned to the hotel, grabbed some food at the restaurant and chatted with a teacher from Ohio who was running away from his career for a year. I wandered around Osu for a bit and bought a bunch of baked goods from Frankie's along with some pretty ripe oranges from a woman at the side of the road (for anyone who has eaten a Ghanaian orange you will also appreciate how rare it is to find a yellow orange). I then proceeded to pig out in front of the T.V. while watching re-runs of American sitcoms. It was heaven.
My friends arrived in Accra late Friday night. On Saturday morning we checked out Koala Supermarket (my mouth was watering at the assortment of food and brands they had) and then headed to a huge African craft market. I must say I now pride myself on my haggling abilities and my knowledge of what things SHOULD cost here. The merchants in the market had really racked up prices and were surprised when I said things like "I have a friend back in Hohoe who could make me the same thing for half that price". I also find that throwing "Get real buddy" into the negotiation really makes the quoted price drop. I managed to buy a good-sized drum with a carrying case for $45GH after originally being asked to pay $80GH (partially thanks to a pricing war between two neighbouring merchants). I was thrilled! That afternoon we went to the Accra Mall and saw Toy Story 3. It was surreal, but very enjoyable. For dinner we headed out to an Indian restaurant and had some top-notch curry dishes with naan. Soooo good! I was exhausted afterward so I opted out of clubbing and headed back to the hotel with Kelly where I passed out pretty early.
Things started to go downhill at 12:30 AM when I woke up and just made it to the washroom in time to avoid being sick all over the hotel room floor. I was up all night and by 6:00 AM I had nothing left in me. I woke Kelly up and told her I needed to go to a hospital--the pain I was experiencing told me this was a bit more serious than food poisoning. While I tried to stop my head from spinning Kelly got on the phone with contacts in Accra and the U.S. Embassy. Everyone recommended the Trust House Hospital, which was conveniently located just down the road from our hotel. I wasn't ready to leave until 9:00AM because I was moving so slow and after the two minute walk to the hospital I felt like I was going to pass out. I layed down in the waiting room while Kelly (bless her heart) looked after my paperwork, paid fees, and demanded that I see a doctor ASAP. They had me in a consultation room in 15 minutes. I was really dizzy and weak, so the doctor got me in a wheelchair and sent me for lab testing right away. While we were waiting for the initial results (they essentially screen for malaria and that's it at first) my limbs went numb. When my muscles contracted and I found I was paralyzed and my face was going numb too I started to freak out. Kelly rushed me back to the doctor. His first exclamation of "Oh shit" didn't do much to reassure me--I had never experienced paralysis before and didn't know how serious it was. They took me into a side room, lifted me onto a table and hooked me up to an IV. After the saline had been running for a few minutes my muscles finally relaxed and the feeling started to come back. I can't even begin to explain how relieved I was. The doctor took me back to his office and told me the lab tests were negative for malaria but my white blood cell count was through the roof, indicating a bad infection. They were going to admit me to the hospital immediately.
Before I describe the hospital I just need to say how lucky I was to have Kelly there to help me. She somehow managed to keep her cool despite the fact that she had never been in a hospital before and was now trying to navigate me through a foreign medical system. She made sure I received the best care possible and covered all my hospital expenses up front because I was in no shape to run out to the bank. She was a life-saver, perhaps literally.
The hospital itself was really nice. The staff were extremely kind and made sure everything I needed was looked after. They even came around to greet every single patient at the beginning of their shifts. I had a bed with clean sheets behind a curtained-off area in a room with three other people. The room had a T.V. with satellite and was cleaned at least twice a day. We had our own washroom with a shower that had hot water and toilet paper was provided free of charge. We had good meals brought to us three times a day and the kitchen staff made me special meals because they knew I had food allergies. It was honestly nicer than any hospital I have ever been in back home, which was lucky for me because I was there for five days. I was continually being tested for different illnesses and infections and on day 2 they decided to perform a 3-day culture on one of my samples.
I only had two books with me and I finished reading them on the second day. The satellite offered one decent channel with American shows but had a tendency to re-run the same episodes over and over. This left me with a lot of time to think. First of all I freaked out because I had so much scheduled that week including weaving lessons and in-service workshops with the teachers at my placement. Then I started missing home. Then I started missing social interaction in general. And this led me to mull over a lot of the things I have experienced since arriving in Ghana. I missed the kids at my school like crazy and hated that I was losing my second last week with them. However, I also realized how exhausted Ghanaian social norms have made me. There was one morning at the hospital when I felt particularly hopeless and started to cry when a visiting CCS staff member asked me how I was. She immediately told me to stop crying because expressing emotion like that is socially unacceptable here. She then opened up my curtain and the next thing I knew I had the three other patients and their families lecturing me on how I shouldn't cry because I needed to be strong for my family and God would look after me. In an attempt to make me feel better the staff member then went on a tangent about how God decides when it's our time to go and maybe it was my time to go but I shouldn't be sad because it was what he wanted and hopefully he would decide to heal me so I could see my family again. Let's just say this made the situation harder to deal with. I miss the way people approach problems like this back home.
I was released from the hospital on Thursday afternoon. I had a bacterial infection in my digestive tract and was given antibiotics to continue taking after I left. I just finished them all today and I am feeling much better. I will post more tomorrow night. My computer time is up! Hope everyone back home is doing well!

Back on Track

It's been a while since my last post and I know some of you have been anxious to hear from me so I apologize. The good news is things are going much better for me now. The bad news is I only have two weeks left in Hohoe before I leave for Tamale. I'm determined to make the most out of the time I have left though, so here is a brief update on the things I've been doing lately!

Things out at the Gbi Special School seem to have radically improved since my last post. Perhaps the situation out there is still far from ideal, but I am starting to see the small changes that my presence at the school has made. Upon returning to the school (after the episode I mentioned in my last post) I was surprised to take note of the fact that the students weren't fighting nearly as much as they used to. As soon as I said "au" (no) they stopped. Instead of hanging off me, hugging all the time, or touching inappropriately many of them now respect my personal space and offer their hands to shake first. My teacher has posted the schedule and classroom rules on the wall and is making a serious effort to stay on task and encourage good behaviour. My students now raise their hands before they speak, keep their hands to themselves, and know to work on assignments independently rather than cheating off each other. They also cover more than one subject in a morning because they are finally using the actual class timetable. The teachers out at the school all smile and greet me now, rather than failing to acknowledge my existence. I feel like a part of the school, and that means the world to me.
I had an opportunity to interview the headmaster on Tuesday and he ended up giving me a lot of valuable knowledge about the special needs school system operates (or attempts to operate) here. I offered to continue working with the school once I go back home, which he was thrilled about. He has asked me to assist them in developing a website for the school so that they can raise awareness about their programs and keep previous volunteers and donors updated about how the school is doing. I'm also going to continue looking for grants for some of their staff members and the vocational training program they run for senior students.
This week my classroom teacher, Miss Priscilla, has been ill with malaria so I had the opportunity to design multiple lesson plans. The most exciting was probably creative art--I brought a big brick of clay to the school and taught my students how to make pinch pot bowls. Everyone and everything got so messy but the students loved it and made beautiful bowls! Unfortunately they carried them outside to dry before I could stop them and a younger student smooshed three of them. I plan to replace the wrecked ones with some of my own that I'll make later tonight. Next week I am going to have them all decorate their bowls with painted designs. I'm really happy this project has gone over so well!
Aside from doing a TON of internship assignments I have been taking time to re-embrace the Hohoe community after my week of bitterness and homesickness. Last weekend I went with a group of volunteers to conquer the 2 hour hike to the upper Wli Waterfalls. It was a 45-minute hike out to the trail and then a 2-hour haul up the side of a steep mountain (parts of the path had literally crumbled down the side so we would have to jump or shimmy along small ledges in some places). This climb ended up being even harder than Mount Afadjato but luckily I was in high spirits and had a lot of energy to use up. The upper falls were gorgeous. They were literally situated in a tiny oasis with mango trees, flowering plants, and leafy bushes. There were no bats, which meant no need to fear being pooped on from above like at the lower falls. The only downside was the temperature--it was incredibly windy and cold and the spray from the falls misted over and drenched us within minutes of getting there. While we had all been dreaming of a refreshing swim during the climb up, the goosebumps on my arms had me running back to the trail to start the climb down and warm up again!
The climb back down was really difficult and I fell three times cutting open both my hands and scraping my shin. I was thankful those were my only injuries however (on the steepest parts I had to keep my imagine from running wild with all the ways I could tumble down a forested mountain side). I did end up swimming in the lower falls with one other volunteer and it was as refreshing as I had imagined the upper falls might be (I was thankful for this rinse-off again after arriving back to homebase to discover the water was off and listening to my grimy, sweaty counterparts who had decided not to swim curse the idea of a bucket shower).
On Monday afternoon I went to visit the local witch doctor who practices multiple forms of voodoo. This tiny little man looked pretty convincing as he wore only a piece of cloth wrapped around his waist and had large veins protruding from either temple (which I assumed were a result of all the deep meditation and agitated ceremonies he performed). He claimed he could heal anything from HIV/AIDS to the guilt of incest. If he couldn't heal you it was because the voodoo powers had fated you to die. Despite making some outrageous claims, I decided I would give this guy a shot at revealing my future. We went into a small room (myself, the witch doctor, and George-a CCS staff member) and sat on a mat. The mat had a pile of seemingly random objects sitting on it including bottle caps, shells, stones, motor parts and chicken bones. The witch doctor explained that each item represented a particular feeling or aspect of life and that the voodoo powers would tell him which objects were going to play a part in my life. The cost of the prediction was $5 Ghana cedi (about $3.50 Canadian). I had to take my folded bill and place it near my mouth. I then thought of something I wanted and had to mouth it silently into the bill (I asked for good health). I then had to spit onto the bill, touch it to my heart, my forehead, and place it on the mat. The witch doctor took three chains with shells attached and began dropping them over the bill as he spoke some sort of incantation in Ewe. He then threw the bill aside and selected some of the objects from the pile. He would swing each of the chains back and forth, one at a time, and lay them out in straight rows. The way the shells on each chain fell (facing up or down) indicated which items should remain and which items were insignificant. My first item was a smooth, flat, black-brown stone. He told me this stone represented sickness, the exact opposite of what I had wished for. He said I would become very sick in the future and then continued with the reading. The next item was a small white stone. He told me I would become sick because of my job. I would try very hard to be successful but I would keep on failing and my body would suffer. He continued. Next he told me that the only way for me to prevent these things from happening was to look after my mother, my father, and my father's property. He said I needed to avoid being neglectful and if I did this I would find success in my career. The voodoo powers ordered me to buy my father a long piece of nice cloth (something wealthy men in Ghana wear as a symbol of success and tribal status) and to wrap it around him. If I did this they would change my fate. The witch doctor then asked me if my father was still alive, leaving me more than skeptical about his so called "power". Although a little silly in some ways, it was a really cool experience. We also got to see a little girl that he was treating with herbal medicine for her seizures. She didn't look like she was in very good shape--she could not stand on her own and her broken sobs made it clear that she did not even have enough energy to cry properly. I felt horrible, but there was nothing I could do for her. (In some ways I think herbal medicine and traditional practices are important, but after witnessing some of the voodoo practices of Ghana I can only hope that people will open up to accepting some of the breakthroughs that have been made in modern medicine--it could be the difference between life and death for many people. Especially in the case of HIV/AIDS patients. Here HIV is called a "ghost virus", meaning it is believed that the virus is a result of being plagued by evil spirits. Locals suffering from HIV will spend mass amounts of money paying the witch doctor to figure out which evil spirits are plaguing them and then to perform ceremonies to cast off these spirits. In the developed world we understand that these ceremonies are futile because HIV is an autoimmune virus and needs medical treatment in order to prolong life. Hopefully the misconceptions about this virus can be cleared up in Ghana soon so more people can seek out effective treatments.)
The next week of my life looks to be particularly exciting. I have convinced a group of kente weavers to give me lessons in weaving each afternoon next week. For the first time in my life I will be using a real loom rather than a homemade frame with nails in it! Tomorrow I leave for Accra at 3AM with my friend Catherine. Catherine has been here with me since the beginning (roommates for 8 weeks now--how time flies) and she leaves tomorrow to go home. I am dropping her at the Kotoka Airport at 8AM where I will have to say goodbye to someone who has literally become my other half here. We've essentially kept each other sane through all of the cultural, social, and emotional challenges we have faced since arriving. I will miss her a lot! On the bright side, later that morning I have an incredible opportunity. I have been invited to tour the New Horizons Special School in Accra and to sit down and chat with the founder, who is now in her eighties! The school was established in the 1970s (a very radical institution for West Africa at the time) and has since grown to be an internationally acclaimed facility for its great programs and innovative approach to teaching people living with cognitive disorders. I am so excited!!!
I will be spending the entire weekend in Accra doing touristy things and eating my heart out in great restaurants. I promise to update again next week! Miss you all!

Homesick

My last week here has been difficult. As I sit here today I can not say for sure that I have a placement to go to on Monday. The next four weeks of my life look extremely blurry and uncertain. This week I tried to do something good for the Gbi Special School. I tried to help the staff and students, but it backfired.
On Tuesday I met with the Director of Special Education for the Volta Region for an interview. I was extremely excited about this because all of the staff at the Gbi School had expressed an interest in hearing about what was going on in Accra at the national level and potentially hosting the Director at the school for the day to tour the campus and hear some of their concerns. The Director came out to the homebase to meet me, which surprised me because I thought he would be much too busy to leave his office. He told me that he was working out of the assessment centre in Hohoe where children are tested to determine whether or not they have a cognitive disorder. When I asked if he had been to visit the Gbi School recently he told me that he hadn't been there since January, but said he was a teacher there before he was given his current position. He complained about a lack of funding (a common thread around here) that made it difficult for him to visit schools in the Volta Region because he had to pay for it out of his own salary. He also told me a little about the reports he is required to file with the government and the testing methods they use to assess the children. I asked if he would be interested in joining me at the Gbi School later in the week, and he seem thrilled at the prospect. I was thrilled too, and we settled on a visit Thursday morning. He suggested that afterwards myself and the other volunteer at the Gbi Special School visit the assessment centre so that he could show us around and explain things in greater detail. I was very excited!
This is when things started to go wrong. It was raining during the interview, and the Director said he lived nearby so he was going to wait until it stopped raining and then walk home. I waited outside with him and tried to make small talk. He gave me his email address and phone number. Then he asked if I could help him go to university to become a clinical psychologist. I said "Probably not", but he didn't seem too discouraged. Then he invited me to go to church on Sunday with him. I said "Maybe". This man is about 50 years old, and he was making me feel uncomfortable. Finally it stopped raining and he left.
Later that night the night guard came into the house looking for me and told me there was a man outside asking for me, he had a gift for me. I was confused but followed him outside anyway. The director was standing outside the gate with a bag full of bananas. He said he brought me a gift and was looking forward to working with me (I gave the bananas to the other volunteers because I am allergic to them). At the time I didn't think much of this, receiving gifts around here is pretty standard as an international visitor.
The next morning (Wednesday) I went to see the headmaster at Gbi Special School to introduce a group of medical volunteers who were doing a hygiene presentation with the students that day and to tell him the good news. When he found out that the Director was coming to the school his face lit right up. He could hardly contain his happiness. He was shaking my hand and slapping his thighs and laughing--until I mentioned the Director's name. The headmaster's smile disappeared as he informed me that this man I was bringing to the school was not the Director at all, he simply ran the assessment center in Hohoe and had no influence in government at all. I was crushed, and embarrassed, and angry all at once. I could not believe I had been so easily fooled. That man had lied to me just to further his own interests--not only was he getting a ride out to the school for free to visit with his old friends, he also thought he had made an international connection that could assist him in advancing his career. The headmaster didn't seem too phased though. He gave me the contact information for the real Director of Special Education, who works in Ho, and told me to bring the imposter out to the school anyway and to pretend I didn't know the truth. The headmaster wanted to question this man and have him apologize for lying to me. I wasn't completely comfortable with this idea but the staff at CCS assured me that the headmaster was a smart man and would make sure that things were handled properly. The staff at CCS were also thankful to know they had been given false information and wanted the situation to be righted as soon as possible.
I was on edge Thursday morning to say the least. I didn't know how I could face this man who had lied to me about who he was and act like I was still oblivious to his lie. When he arrived we climbed into the van with all the other volunteers and took off. On the way he made our driver stop so he could buy food and phone credits--I wasn't impressed with this, we had volunteers to drop off at placements and he was acting as though our van was his personal limo. When we arrived at the school I took him to meet Michael, the pre-vocational teacher and a friend of this man. I asked Michael if he would mind taking the man on a tour of the grounds to see the new development projects after we talked to the headmaster and Michael agreed.
Another volunteer, Cassie, had come out to ask the headmaster about first aid supplies so she joined our entourage (I also wanted some support once the headmaster started drilling the assessment center guy so I was glad to have her there). We knocked on the headmaster's office door and he told us to come on in. He looked up and said "Sit down". My stomach immediately started twisting. The headmaster had not said "You are welcome", the usual courtesy to visitors around here. I knew things were about to go horribly wrong.
The headmaster asked "How can I help you?" He refused to look at the assessment man and his tone was cold and condescending. I explained that I had brought the Director of Special Education out to the school to see the new projects, as we had discussed earlier. The headmaster just stared at me. "Come again?" he asked. I hesitated--I was sure he must understand and I was confused as to why he was not going along with our plan. I had even had a staff member call earlier that morning to double check that this "interrogation plan" was still a go. So I tried to explain again, but the headmaster interrupted me. He told me that the staff at Gbi Special School do not report to this man, this man is not the Director of Special Education. This man does not represent the government. This man simply runs the assessment center in Hohoe. He is responsible for assessing the children that are sent to him and then handing them over to the school. He has no other business at the school. This man is not welcome on school property, so why have I brought him there? I have no business bringing this man to the school.
I just sat stunned. The assessment guy didn't say a word, he just looked at the floor. Cassie's mouth was hanging open in shock. This man is not welcome here, and I realize I am no longer welcome either. The headmaster says "If there is nothing else you can go". I stand up and the assessment guy and I walk out. I have no idea what just happened. Things just fell apart completely. I had been asked to leave the school.
I feel obligated to apologize to this man for some reason, and he tells me not to worry about it. My phone starts ringing. It is Makafui, the director of CCS in Ghana. I tell the assessment guy I have to take a call, I will meet him back at the schoolhouse. As soon as I answer the call the lump in my throat dissipates and I start to cry and yell at Makafui. I am embarrassed and angry and don't know what to do. He tells me he will send a car to get me, we will sort things out at the homebase. I hang up, compose myself, and head back to the school to tell the assessment guy and the other volunteers there what is going on. Michael sees me as I am speaking to another volunteer and notices I am upset. He runs over and grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward a classroom. I try to explain that I have received some bad news and need to return home for the day to deal with it. He won't listen. He tightens his grip, pulls harder. He says I can't leave them. The children need me. I need to stop crying. I can't leave them. This draws a crowd of students and teachers. I ask him to let go, he's hurting me. I need to leave. Please just let go. He won't listen. I scream at him. I tell him he needs to let me go, I will be back as soon as I can but for now I need to go. He twists my arm behind my back but the assessment guy finally pipes up and tells him to let me go. I am bawling uncontrollably at this point. The kids are following behind me asking me why I am crying--they think they are responsible, and this breaks my heart. My phone keeps ringing every two seconds as the staff at CCS call to check on me. My class teacher comes over and starts asking me questions. The kids are yelling at me. My head is spinning.
Finally the cab arrives. The assessment guy leaves with me. To my horror he asks the cab to stop twice on the way back to the homebase--once at the post office and once at a shop. I am crying and I need to get home and I paid for the damn cab. I couldn't believe his nerve. A staff member met the car and I stormed home. I collapsed in my room and bawled. Then I fell asleep. I woke up later to explain things to the staff and they apologized profusely, promising to set things right.
On Friday I went to a different school and taught art. It was a nice change. The students sat in their desks and listened. They shared art supplies. They all followed one lesson. It was so easy. I taught a lesson on how to draw a face, which they thought was hilarious because I let them choose the gender and hairstyle of the person. They also ending up naming their faces, giving them jewellery, and adding in scarification marks that indicate tribe affiliation. I was pretty impressed. That afternoon I was called into Makafui's office. He told me that I had been drawn into a personal conflict between the headmaster and the assessment center guy, which had actually been the reason the assessment center guy LOST his job at the school in the first place. They had essentially used me as a pawn to have a confrontation. Makafui said the headmaster would be coming to meet with us later that evening to try and explain things to me and the CCS staff. To make a long story short, the headmaster did not show up, nor did he return our phone calls. He also managed to come up with excuses to avoid a meeting over the course of the weekend.
The assessment center guy has stopped by the CCS Homebase 3 times looking for me. The guards have to keep shooing him away and telling him I am not there. I have reported this to the intern supervisors and Makafui is going to make sure this man leaves me alone.
It is Saturday and I am very homesick right now. I am bitter. I am struggling to see the beauty in the people and community that I saw during my first few weeks. I do not know who to trust anymore. I feel used and unappreciated. I miss the kids but I do not know if I have it in me to go back out to that school. It has sapped all of the energy out of me. New volunteers arrived today. When they ask where I am placed I do not know what to tell them. When they ask how much I love Hohoe, if I would come back again, I do not know whether to lie or tell them the truth. I am not feeling very social to say the least...

Update: Today is Monday. I wrote this post on Saturday but the internet crashed so it never posted. This morning the headmaster came to meet with me and Makafui. He apologized for his behaviour and promised it would not happen again. He did not mean to direct his anger at me, he meant to direct at it the assessment guy. Apparently he had tried calling one of the staff earlier that morning to tell them to make sure the assessment guy DID NOT come out to the school, but he didn't reach anyone in time and was flustered when I showed up with assessment guy in tow. The headmaster has invited me back to the school, so I will return tomorrow morning. However, a few things have changed.
I have decided to only spend 3-4 days a week at the Gbi Special School because the atmosphere there is taking a huge toll on my optimism and energy level. The other days I will be returning to St. Teresa's Demonstration School to teach visual art (the students and teachers requested I come back!). My focus at the Gbi Special School will be on developing teaching aids for my teacher, arranging in-service learning seminars for the staff (e.g. how to teach sexual education, how to make learning interactive, etc.), and creating booklets and reference guides on different topics for the staff members (e.g. classroom management, behaviour management, creative learning solutions, etc.). Outside of this I will be focusing on independent learning about the special education system in Ghana through interviews, research, and visits to other special education institutions throughout the country. All of this information will be outlined in a report which will be made available to incoming volunteers so they have a better grasp on the political issues surrounding special education here.
I am feeling much better about things now that I have plan. I am happy that I was able to speak to the headmaster, assert myself, and have him agree to work on professional terms with myself and all future volunteers. Makafui says that things between CCS and the Gbi Special School finally reached a breaking point after many hiccups over the past few years. It took this episode with me for the headmaster to realize how important it is to maintain the relationship with CCS volunteers because we provide a lot of support and opportunities to the school that they would not otherwise receive.
However, I feel kind of bad for the headmaster at the same time. After everything that has happened I am beginning to understand why he acts the way he does sometimes. He feels threatened constantly. His position at the school is the only thing he has, and people are very protective of the things that give them status and power here. Makafui explained that the headmaster was afraid the assessment guy was going to look for negative things that he could report to the real regional director while he was at the school. I think the assessment guy may have tried to take the headmaster's job at one point. I can not imagine living in fear of losing my job and respect from others due to jealousy and personal issues with former coworkers. Job protection and politics operate on an entirely different playing field here than they do in Canada.
Anyway, this post has been long-winded. I hope to provide you all with a much more uplifting report next time I write. Hope all is well back home!

I'm feeling much better since the last time I posted. The issue with the school has been dealt with and I have asked a group of medical students who are now volunteering with CCS to give all of the students at Gbi Special School a couple of seminars on Sexual Education. I'm really hoping this will help the students understand the potential results of their actions and assist the teachers in developing a better sexual education curriculum in the future.

A lot has happened in the past week, so here are the highlights!

As I briefly mentioned in my last post, last Thursday myself and some of the other volunteers went to a small community outside of Hohoe, called Ango, to help the community build a primary school. It was amazing to see how everyone stopped what they were doing to pitch in, even mothers with babies on their backs were hauling mud! I'm not sure whether we actually sped up the process or slowed them down. I'm sure they were grateful to have us carry mud for them, but some of the men stopped their work to teach us how to make mud walls and I can't say I was as skilled or as quick as they were at it! I gave them all a good laugh though as they watched my attempts. I also wore my hiking boots to the site and they all ended up calling me "soldier lady", which they found amusing but slightly annoyed me--those that know me well would understand my desire to remain unassociated with the military. I managed to make a baby cry too. I approached him to hand him the toy hippie van I have carried around this country with me (kind of like the gnome on those traveling commercials) and he just started bawling. Apparently he hadn't seen any person so white before and it freaked him out. I almost started crying too I felt so bad! His mother just laughed though. She said he would have to get used to the yevu at some point!
On Friday I climbed Mount Afadjato. I was slightly dizzy and dehydrated before starting the climb, which probably wasn't a good thing as it made the climb seem more grueling than it actually is. Mount Afadjato is a small mountain, but the biggest freestanding mountain in West Africa, at 885 meters above sea level. The climb is more of a steep hike than anything, but the lose pebbles and wet mud make finding footholds difficult. It took us about 40 minutes to reach the summit (like I said, small mountain). We had only been up there about 5 minutes before a small old Ghanaian man in his bare feet with an amputated hand came cruising up shouting "I am the winner, the winner, the winner" and doing a silly dance. He asked me to take his watch, which I did. He then proceed to tell me that he had started his climb at 9:45, would I please tell him what time it was now? It was 10:05- he had taken only 20 minutes to get up here. I was shocked. A few moments later a white guy comes running up behind him. It is soon revealed that these two race up the mountain, every day. The white kid had barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile you can see the outline of my sports bra because around it my shirt is soaked through with sweat. How embarrassing! Anyway, now I can say I've climbed a mountain. A literal one.
I spent my first weekend in Hohoe last weekend which was a lot of fun. The World Cup started Friday afternoon, and everyone here is obsessed it. The games are broadcast everywhere whether over the radio in the taxis or over the televisions in the shops--you won't miss a thing. Maya, Jillian, and Michaela left on Saturday, which was super sad. I cried a little. I'm going to miss them all a lot. I also couldn't help thinking about all the other goodbyes I am going to have to say before it's my turn to pack up and leave. I keep wondering who will be there to see me off on my last day.
On Sunday I went to a Pentecostal Church service with one of the staff and three other volunteers. It was hot, loud, and the service was long. They said everything in English once and then had it translated into Ewe. The speakers and vocalists screamed into the microphones, which were turned up so loud they kept screeching with feedback. They also sang and danced a lot, which I loved, but the songs were each 15 minutes long and would leave you sweating at the end of them. I had a lot of trouble relating to the sermon and the prayers. They spent a lot of time praying for money and avoidance of debt and for the soccer team to win. It just felt a little spiritually lacking. After the collection they proceeded to announce the names of the people who had donated the most to the church and why. It was like a competition of sorts--who loves Jesus the most? This was strange because most people here can hardly afford to keep their families clothed and fed, yet they are giving huge chunks of their money away every Sunday. They announced a pilgrimage to Israel opportunity too, costing $3000 US dollars. How they thought anyone in the congregation would actually be able to afford that is beyond me. Towards the end they called a teenage boy up the front with his mother. His mother was concerned that his teenage whims were corrupting him and leading him away from God, so they performed a blessing and a type of exorcism to pull the demons out of his soul. Everyone in the audience got so worked up, shaking and shouting things out. The man in front of us was convulsing and bawling, we were all waiting to see if he would pass out or have a heart attack or something. After that we left, our ears ringing like we had just left a heavy metal concert. I think we had all had a little too much "praising the lord" for one day. Our prayers did accomplish at least one thing though--Ghana won against Serbia later that afternoon.
This week has been pretty laid back so far. I have been working my butt off on projects for my classroom and the school. On Wednesday we held two seminars out at the school, one on basic first aid and one about classroom management and behaviour management. They seemed to go pretty well. Today I missed placement due to another bout of digestion problems. The lack of toilets out at the school makes attending placement really difficult on days when I'm not functioning quite right. Tomorrow I'm going out to an orphanage to attend a goodbye ceremony for a couple of our volunteers. More of them are leaving this Saturday.
Anyway, I'm happy again and feeling more optimistic about my ability to make a positive impact at Gbi Special School. The kids out there are quickly working their way into my heart. I'm glad I have five more weeks here to spend with them.

Hitting speed bumps

The roads in Ghana are bad. Really bad in comparison to those back home. They are riddled with potholes and used by drunks and tro-tro drivers who are always in a hurry to get somewhere. This results in a lot of deadly accidents so the government has started a new awareness campaign where they post large billboards advertising the vehicle accident death tolls of the previous year to try and persuade drivers to be more cautious. Cities have also taken action by installing patches of speed bumps, 5 or 6 in a row, along all of the main roads that run through heavily populated areas. Hitting these speed bumps in a fast moving, old vehicle hurts and usually the vehicle bottoms out. I wouldn't say it makes cars drive much more slowly though.
I have been hitting my own speed bumps lately. As lovely as Ghana is, there are a few things that have really started getting to me, especially at placement. The violence and lack of respect for authority at the school is ridiculous. I have witnessed students beating students, students hitting teachers, and students verbally insulting teachers. While this was tolerable with the knowledge that my students are becoming pretty manageable with the new "good behaviour" guidelines, we had an incident at the school last week that really threw me off course. On this particular day my teacher was the only one in her classroom. The others had gone off to waste more of their students' time and left their classrooms unattended. At one point a student came into my class to get the teacher for something but she quickly returned. Myself and another volunteer were teaching math when we heard screams outside. We ran out to see a little girl (maybe seven years old) lying on the ground while she was beaten by a ring of boys. They were punching, kicking, and whipping her with their belts. The other volunteer grabbed the girl while I pulled three of the biggest boys off to the side to discipline them. When I went to talk to my teacher about it she just shook her head. She said the little girl had been caught in one of the empty classrooms having sex with one of the boys. My teacher had stopped them but after she left the students started to taunt and beat the girl. She said this is common. What made things worse is that the boy involved was 15 years old. They weren't having sex, he was raping her. And then she was beat for it. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. She was so petrified and confused. It absolutely broke my heart. I was shaking in rage. My teacher assured me that the staff would deal with it and offer counseling to the girl. I didn't believe a word of it.
Yesterday nothing had been done about it yet, so I went to report the issue to the headmaster. He claimed he had no prior knowledge of the event and called my teacher in to explain what happened. He asked her to speak with the assistant headmaster and then organize a staff meeting with the students involved to deal with the issue. On the way back to my classroom I had to break up a fist fight between two students in a new volunteer's classroom. One of the fighters was the boy who raped the little girl. While I attempted to haul him out of the classroom he just flopped on the ground and smiled up at me. I felt so sick to my stomach. I called another teacher in to deal with him. The teacher simply looked at the boy then looked back at me and said "He won't do it again", then smiled. I stormed out. In my classroom I just started crying. I don't know how to help these kids. They are surrounded by bullying peers and teachers who don't give a shit. They want to learn so badly, but the environment here is poisoning them.
I'm taking a couple days off placement to sort things out. Today I helped build a school in a small community and tomorrow I am climbing Mount Afadjato. Hopefully I will be able to climb the mountain at Gbi Special School too. Wish me luck.

Living in Ghana

More than a week has passed since my last post and so much has happened. I finally realized I was in Africa last night after sitting outside for two hours petting and feeding our honourary goat, "Billy", who was on loan from a neighbouring farmer as a result of my request for a household pet. I actually started crying I was so happy--the shock is finally over and I can really start "living" in Ghana. Unfortunately, Billy returned home this morning after bleating all night long--poor guy. His absence was quickly filled by a kitten (which I can't pet because of my allergies), and we have named her "Whiskers" (as you can tell we are very creative when it comes to naming our pets). She will have to leave to go home again too, but our internship advisor is working on getting us our own baby goat to care for, which I am so excited about.
Upon waking up this morning I had another reminder that I am in Africa--our end of town, aptly called the "Boondocks", does not currently have any running water. Ironically, I planned to wash my clothes today (which are all dirty) and shower for the first time since Tuesday morning (which seems like a year ago since all I do is sweat here and create a nice adhesive surface for all the red, blowing dust from the roads). Thank goodness for hand sanitizer and bottled water is all I can say at this point.
Last week was very eventful. I climbed the mountain range between Ghana and Togo and crawled through the Likpe Caves, which were full of history, "thunder stones" (volcanic rock that sparks when smashed together), and "shit of bat". Ghanaian tribe leaders used to convene meetings in these sacred caves and they were later used to hide runaway slaves from slave traders. Now the caves are frequently traversed by tourists and by locals who go looking for the coveted bat manure to use on their tomato gardens. What amazed me was the leisurely way that our small, older guide completed the hike while all of the "Yevu" sweated, panted, and swore our way up this mountain side and over rock ledges. Everyone seems to be in incredible shape here.
I visited the Wli Waterfalls and was offered wood carving lessons from an artist who works in the forest alongside the waterfall trail. The falls were beautiful and I will definitely be taking the artist up on his offer when we return to the falls for a swim next week.
Over the weekend I went on a trip to Lake Volta, the world's largest man-made lake. We stayed in a hotel called Afrikiko. On the outside this place was paradise--flowering trellis-covered walkways, African sculpture and pottery displays, grass hut sitting areas, and a restaurant patio overlooking the lake's uninhabited shoreline. Inside the rooms things weren't quite so wonderful. To start off our stay we were all charged $20 US extra for a reservation error that the hotel had made! We then went to our rooms which were supposed to have DSTV but only had two channels (and only one channel with sound). In the bathroom we found a hose coming out of the wall--our shower for the next two days. I just had to laugh. TIA! Otherwise our trip went really well. We visited the Cedi Bead Factory where artists make beads and jewelery out of recycled glass bottles, plastic, and scrap wood. A live demonstration showed us how tedious the work is to produce such beautiful products. I was thoroughly impressed and managed to spend quite a bit of money in their gift shop after the tour! We also visited a disco club at The Volta Hotel (an upscale Western standards resort with bad wine) where we danced the night away to hits of the 80s and 90s! So much fun! On our last day we went on a boat tour of the natural half of Lake Volta and got to see the massive dam and pipeline structure that keeps the man-made side of the lake in place. Afterwards we took advantage of the sunshine and pool to do some swimming and work on our tans/sunburns. My freckles are now out in full force! Yay!
The coolest thing I have done so far this week is feed a monkey a banana at the Monkey Sanctuary! The monkeys would literally hold onto our hands and peel the banana themselves before breaking a piece off and nibbling it! The only thing I found slightly odd was the behaviour of nursing mothers and the pack leader (the head honcho monkey who is larger than all the rest). The mothers would eat first before offering any to their newborns and before we could feed any of the monkeys we had to toss a whole banana to the pack leader, who caught it, ate it, and then observed our interactions with his pack. He refused to look any of us in the eye or take any further offerings of food. Tomorrow I leave for Cape Coast and the slave castles. I am super excited about it and will be sure to post as soon as possible next week.
Aside from frolicking around Ghana and sightseeing I have been working my butt off at placement every day to get my classroom functioning. I am currently in the middle of a class rejuvenation project and have painted the numbers 1-10 and the alphabet up on the classroom wall. Next week I will be drawing curriculum posters that the teacher can use as visual aids during her lessons. I also instituted the positive reinforcement rule and now violence is no longer acceptable in my classroom, regardless of whether it is disciplinary/corrective (done by staff caning a student who misbehaves or gives the wrong answer) or retaliatory (students hitting each other or the staff). Instead we have time outs, line writing, and loss of privileges as disciplinary measures. We also have a "Good Behaviour Chart" where each student is eligible to get a sticker if they manage to get through a day without fighting or cheating in class. Once they have ten stickers I give them a treat! Today was the first day all of my students were awarded a sticker--everyone was very happy about it!
I am also looking into speech therapy techniques and hoping to redesign the current assessment system they have for new students entering the school. Anyway, my computer time is almost up. Hope all is well back home! Ndo!