Bus Station Justice

Anyone who knew me growing up knows I was never exactly a beacon of patience. Waiting for things was never really my style. I’ve gotten a little better, maybe just older, in college. Ghana has been the pinnacle of this, though. I’m as cool as the average bucket shower. I’m patient beyond all belief. We all have our breaking points though.

I headed to Togo this weekend with a friend. We were warned by another friend that the people who exchange money at the border will try to steal and or cheat you from the full amount they owe you.

I checked and recounted and watched my surroundings like a hawk. 

They still somehow shorted me 10,00 CFAs ($20). My friend also thought they stole 20 Cedi ($12) from her. We went back to our “friends”. I told them that they may not touch anything, they are just to watch, and I counted out 42,000 CFA. They owed me 52,000. Obviously caught in a lie they quickly handed over the 10,000 CFA. The real issue came when trying to get the 20 Cedi back. They obviously denied doing any such thing and pointed out that we could not prove that they had stolen it as they didn’t know how many Cedi we’d started with. What logic. 

What ensued was something like a ten minute rather heated argument where I said many awful things and called them many awful names. Whatever. 

At this point I was called over by someone else who asked what the problem was. Sometimes people are nice and like to help people with their problems. This was another money changer and thinking he may be able to talk to his friends I nicely explained the situation. 

He wasn’t interested in helping.

What he said was that I should forgive and forget. Just forget about it and move on. I asked him if someone stole 20 Cedi from him if he’d be upset. He looked up with his little smug face and said, no he’d forgive and forget. Thank you Mr. Thief for giving me a lesson on Christian values. Thank you for steering me away from that path of corruption I was obviously headed down.  

This was not a turn the other cheek moment. I’m not saying I’m proud of my actions, but I am saying I have no regrets. And it was kind of awesome. Ok, so maybe I’m a tiny bit proud. 

In my moment’s rage at being told to forgive and forget I bent over to where the man was sitting and grabbed 10,000 CFA off the top of his money pile turned around and walked away into the crowded station. 

Obviously I didn’t make it far.

There were instantly some 3 large Ghanaian men pulling me backward by my backpack. I spun around, looked them straight in the eye, slapped on a smile and said “forgive and forget!” and turned to continue walking. 

Two of the men were obviously surprised and walked away laughing leaving their friend to figure out the crazy white girl for himself. 

You know that scene in Christmas Story where the bully kid is yelling “Say uncle! Say uncle!!”

Well there I was in the middle of a hot, dusty, border town bus station yelling “Say you’re upset! SAY IT!” to some guy who had 15 years and 6 inches on me. He tried getting the money from my clenched fist, which was obviously fruitless, it’s like my three little brothers have spent their lives training me for this moment. I repeatedly told him that all he had to do was admit that he was upset and I’d give it back. He stubbornly kept saying things like “No, no, I’m not upset. Just please give it back. I beg you.” Unfortunately out-stubborning me is just not something most people are going to win at. He pleaded and I told him to say he’s upset for a good period of time. I only relented when he got a truly desperate look in his eyes. Like he was beginning to believe he was never getting his money back. It was pathetic and I finally decided that I value my time too much to be spending it with begging, sniveling thieves. 

Do I recommend forgetting that you’re a 5’6”, yellow-headed, weakling and getting in such altercations with people obviously void of any moral value? Not really. But do I condone the corruption, bigotry, and patriarchal nonsense that ruins things for all the truly wonderful people that inhabit this country I have grown to love? Absolutely not. And sometimes the latter just wins out over the former. 

SAY YOU'RE UPSET

Intimidating, I know.

Just to get you excited for Togo

This happened. 

I'll stop procrastinating now. 

It's The Final Countdown

I never thought I’d say this, I know just how crazy it sounds, but I miss finals at Berkeley.

Woah. 

Here’s what I’ve realized- finals are going to suck no matter what. It’s just a matter of deciding which sort of suckiness you prefer. 

The Berkeley Final- You regularly forgo sleep over the course of a semester just to have it end in a week or two of all nighters. You haul around books and readers dooming yourself to a life of chiropractic nightmares. You read and read and read, accept defeat, attend office hours, do problem sets, and by the end of classes maybe have something like a tenth of everything your professor has said mastered. You highlight you reread you redo the problem sets. You take a final and pray with all your might that you nail average. All hail being spectacularly average. 

The University of Ghana Final- You spend all semester trying your very best to decipher accents. You sit in sweltering heat with professors that may or may not decide to show up either physically or mentally. You hear rumors of readings but locating them is a whole other horse and pony show. Then, despite feeling like very little productivity has occurred during lectures, you pull out the syllabus because in the end you are being tested on that and really not much to do with lecture at all. Then comes the truly daunting part: finding all those forsaken books. Here. In Ghana. 

I have spent more hours tracking down books than actually reading books. There are many libraries here. Some you can check books out from, some you have to read there. And some books I swear are a fabrication of the professors imagination. The Berkeley proxy server doesn’t seem to work in Africa, so that means soliciting friends to pleasepleaseplease find me journal articles. It also means getting in near yelling matches with UG librarians who don’t want to let me check books out because I’m only here another month so it’s not worth their time to put books under my name. 

That’s like saying I only have a month left so may as well kick me out of the dorms now. Who needs a bed for their last few weeks anyway? Who needs books for finals? Silly Brit. 

Moral of the story- You can suffer the devastating stress and defeat of finals because you’re expected to learn more and be brilliant beyond your capacity or you can suffer the devastating stress and defeat of finals because your professors showed up to half their lectures and the library holds its books hostage.

BE GRATEFUL FOR YOUR FINALS AMERICA. Ha. 

In other news, had a fantastic weekend in Togo this last week. I’ll get to updating on that as soon as I figure out the difference between an exegetico-theological study of Matthew, Johannine Literature, and the writings of Paul. 

Rain and Toads and Crazy Foreigners

The last few days have been unbearably hot. To the point where the only talking I have done has been to say things like "I AM GOING TO DIE!" and "NO REALLY, I AM GOING TO DIE."

I was reading in my room last night, contemplating taking a shower just to cool down, when out of no where came thunder and lightening and then a sky-born flood.

Mariel and I ran out to our balcony to feel the mist and watch the rain. Under our balcony we spotted toads all over the dark lawn. Mariel was all "Wait, can we catch them?" and I was all "Duh."

Mariel went running out the door and was shouting at me to catch up when I saw her head disappear going around the corner. Mariel is very tall. Her head should not have disappeared. I came running around just in time to see her slide down an entire flight of soaked stairs on her butt. Oh my gosh, I'm going to laugh so hard I cry just thinking about it.

I've seen it rain here, but I've never seen it rain like this. Sheets and sheets and sheets of rain. It was higher water pressure than my shower back at home. We were instantly soaked and gosh has it never felt so good. And the wind!! Thank the heavens for wind!

We were having a grand time running around after all the cute little African toads when we suddenly realized that we were being watched by a good number of people on their balconies and an entire deck full of Ghanians who had grabbed shelter until the rain subsided. We probably should have felt awkward but instead we grabbed some toads and tried to convince the Ghanian boys to kiss them. I learned that Ghanians don't just hate the rain, they don't particularly care for toads either. I think the heat melted our brains and the rain filled up our heads with water.

I buy breakfast almost every morning from my favorite little stand run by this sweet husband and wife named Henry and Mary. It rained last week and Mary asked me if I was cold. Before I could answer Henry said, "Oh! Mama! This weather is good for them!"

Oh how right he is.

I'm not going to die!

And it was cool enough to wear a sweater to bed!

Happy!

Sandlot: Ghana Edition

My roommate volunteers at Mawuvio's Outreach Program. This school provides free education to children who would not otherwise be able to afford it. The school was started by an American women, who was a study abroad student just like me, and a man from the local village. The work that they are doing is absolutely awe inspiring. Besides the school they are running right now, they are in the process of building a boarding school where 120-180 boys and girls will be able to get an education free of charge. We visited the site this last weekend to plant some plants, and I just wanted to hug everyone. Absolutely amazing. Most of these children are orphaned and would have no opportunity outside poverty were it not for the work of Renee and Kwame. Wanna help out and get awesome jewelry out of it? Go here.

Anyway. Someone donated a bunch of baseball equipment. Another volunteer has been teaching the kids. We played them and they kicked our trash.

Just to the left of this picture was a group drumming.

It went on the whole two hours. 

It was kind of surreal. 

The pitcher getting his dance on between throws. 

Hahah. It's just so cute.

But don't be fooled, you'll never meet a group of more determined 10 year olds. 

It was a very stressful game.

Showing the kids how it's done.

Ha. No.

I struck out. 

However, I was champion of the cheers. 

And now this group of kids knows the definition of the word appreciate!

And how to count by twos!

We convinced the kids that the higher they pull up their pants, the more professional they look. 

And that sticking out ones hips also really completes the look.

Awww yeah.

Woo!

Red dirt, the sunset, drums, and a gaggle of little bare brown feet. 

The greatest.

:)

Freedom Cake

I’ve never known how to describe my relationship with the good ol’ U.S.A. Over the course of my life it’s ranged from not caring to not liking to missing more than anything, right back to thinking it’s one big bully. One way or another, though, and whether I like it or not, America is home and at times it’s the only place I want to be.

So imagine my delight upon getting the opportunity to spend a few hours home sweet home this last weekend!

That’s right: The American Embassy.

It was one of those weird situations where some friend of a friend had met some marines on a beach and it turns out that marines like friends just as much as anyone and all the sudden you’re in a taxi headed to the Embassy. Where they live. You know what kind of situation I’m talking about, ya?

To back up, the shindig was described as a party to my roommate and I. We were very conflicted on whether we should go or not. We wanted to see the Embassy but we had also just eaten a huge dinner and wanted to watch Inception, not party. After laughing at what pathetic vestiges of our previous social glory we've become, we decided to suck it up, put on something other than harem pants, and go along. The power then went out further confirming that the universe did not wish for us to spend that evening in our dorm.

So we show up, have all electronics confiscated, go through some metal detectors, and skip right on in to America! 

Oh we were all so embarrassing. Here we were, a gaggle of girls who have never shown a pinch of patriotism in our lives, dancing around and threatening to roll on the lawns. 

And it wasn’t a party. There are 5 marines that live at the embassy at all times and do who knows what because they can’t really talk about it. All we know is that they have a basketball court, tennis court, swimming pool, home theater, a pool table, a full bar and more people taking care of them than there are of them (chefs, drivers, etc.). Life in America is ridiculous. 

Things got crazy when we realized how much they didn’t live in Ghana. Like never been on a tro tro and never heard of a sachet. At one point, in all sincerity, I asked if they have an oven. Ovens are a rare commodity in this country. I was laughed at. Upon running into the kitchen I realized why. They have TWO ovens. Two fridges, two freezers, a microwave, two stoves, and two deep fryers. Why would you ever need two fryers???

I asked if I could bake a cake. I was laughed at again. But then I found food coloring, and what was, for a moment, a joke quickly became all seriousness. 

And that, my friends, is how I ended up baking a red, white, and blue cake in the middle of the night at the American Embassy. I even found white chocolate chips which I melted down and used to pipe on a big star and the words “America Forever”. Like I said, we were abundantly embarrassing. 

So more or less, we ended up crashing some dudes’ house, drinking all their drinks, and eating all their cake. A very ideal evening. 

We were back in Ghana all too soon. And boy was it as Ghana as ever. We stomped through dirt for ages before finding a taxi. We didn’t realize what was happening at the moment, but we later realized that the taxi driver had kicked out his uhhh evening escort to pick us up. He also stole my friends phone. Class act right there. 

Regardless, as much as I joke about America and Ghana and really everything, I couldn’t help but to fall asleep feeling sad that I’m leaving so soon. Going home will be great and all, but giving up this adventure life style in favor of suburbia isn't the most thrilling idea in the world. 

I have no photographic evidence that any of this actually happened. Due to the whole confiscation of electronics thing. I tried to find my favorite clip of my favorite army man ("The seal is for marksmanship!"), but I couldn't find it. Then I remembered that I can't load videos period. So here's some other, non-related videos that I didn't first preview. Still of the greatest army man of all time-

Couldn't track down "I pinned the army man!" either. Bummer. And like I said, I did not watch these videos before hand. I just love buster, and in that I'm sure they're great. 

Last Night

There was an incident.

So we drink all our water out of sachets here. It's these small bags that hold the equivalent to your average water bottle. You bite the corner off the plastic and suck the water out.

They aren't the most convenient thing because you can't really set them down without water going everywhere. In theory, you can balance them, but the slightest disturbance sends them toppling. And set them down wrong and you have water spraying everywhere.

As such, I have learned to gulp those guys down pretty quickly.

I was happily trying to drink an entire bag's worth of water in one or two gulps when my throat felt kind of funny. In that instant my brain had the thought of, hey, could that be the plastic from the corner of my bag?

Apparently my body feels very strongly about swallowing plastic, and before I could think twice about it, all the water that was in my belly and in my mouth was on my feet. We're talking the most violent gag reflex I've ever experienced. My roommate looked over just in time to see a river of water not gently tickle or spray, but drop with great haste and intensity, in an unreal quantity, from my mouth.

It was bizarre to say the least. We proceeded to laugh until we cried for a good 10 minutes. Of course explaining the situation once we calmed down didn't really do anything to justify it. It was honestly the strangest thing. In that moment I had absolutely no control. I had one little thought and all the sudden my body had a mind of its own and I was just along for the ride.

That's the thing about Ghana. Just when you get comfortable, it comes along and slaps you in the face. At least it has an excellent sense of humor about it!