Small girl have small organs.
Finding places to pee is always fun, especially when you have no idea where you are. At this point, I believe I've seen it all. Rooms with nothing more than a gutter on the floor, stalls with nothing more than a gutter on the floor and a man who's probably watching you from over the wall, indoor outhouses covered in flies... The best is this restaurant that you can enter through the side so you don't have buy something each time you go. The worst was dashing to the corner of a cocoa farm - not because I was personally in a hurry, but more so because there was a centipede half the size of my arm cruisin' around, and the fact that the plants shook violently as I approached made want to hurry up a bit.
I'm sure you wanted to read about that, so you're welcome. I would just like to point out that while I only have to deal with this for a few more days, some people spend every day of their lives trying to find a place to go when/where nobody is watching - particularly women.
By the way, first impressions do not necessarily dictate a relationship. At first I didn't like someone and now we're really close. At first I liked someone and now I try to avoid him/her.
Hmm... So, I think I'm about ready to go home at this point.
This next paragraph is for my mom, just because I think she'll find it amusing. My Auntie handed me a newspaper the other day. I was perusing around when I found an article about a kidnap. Yes indeed, someone had stolen a goat. He had strangled the pregnant goat worth 250 Cedis and stuffed it into a sack. Luckily, he was taken to court where he pleaded 'guilty' to his crime. An article on the same page described the police chase of a notorious sheep thief, who stashed the bodies of his victims in an old abandoned house. He was caught, too. Phew.
Note: I realize that a kid is a baby goat, not a pregnant goat, but I couldn't pass up the pun opportunity.
Ok, I guess I'll talk about my consumer habits now. Here is a list of how I spend most of my money here: (I think it's in order, but I'm not entirely certain)
1. Souvenirs, including clothes
2. Phone credits
3. Snacks/restaurants
4. One doctor visit
5. Taxis
Anyway, as I was editing my friend's blog, I realized that I don't talk a whole lot about Ghanaian culture. Like, for instance, I've never told you that it's taboo to drum on Wednesdays, fish on Tuesdays, farm on Fridays, or pound fufu after 6 pm during the month of August. The Gods have meetings on Wed. to discuss how they will treat the town for the upcoming week, so they need peace and quiet. Similarly, the Sea Gods and Agriculture Gods have their own respective meeting days. September is the month of festivals, so the Gods meet every night in August to prepare for it. There are also witches and dwarfs that can cast spells or who have magic powers, and someone can make another fall in love with him by hiring a voodooist. So, those are just a few aspects of the culture I never wrote about before.
The entire time I've been here I've wanted to make a Little Shop of Horrors reference, but I could never quite figure out which one to use. Well, now I know, and even I'm surprised by my choice:
"Just me... and the toaster."
That's a line from Audrey's song, "Somewhere That's Green". The song is sort of a joke, because in it she describes the very minimum of what one might consider to be the American Dream: a matchbox of a room, frozen TV dinners, disposal in the sink, etc. Here's some background info as to why I chose this reference:
I always love to tell this story: When I was in elementary school, I was in the car with my dad, and I said, very frustrated,
"Dad, I already know where my life is going. I'll go to high school, graduate college, get married, buy a house, have kids, retire, and die. What's the point of that?"
And he said, "Well, you don't have to do that. You can do whatever you want."
So that made me feel empowered and in control of my own life. That's what it always feels like when I'm traveling - like I'm choosing my own path.
Similarly, I told my mom once that I thought that moving to the suburbs and taking care of one's own job and family seemed lazy.
"It's incredibly lazy," she responded.
But guess what? The suburbs are also far from Skid Row.
And that's the point, isn't it? The "fence of real chain-link" sounds a little ridiculous in song form, but really, if you can raise your family in a safe place and not have to worry about other people trying to hurt you, wouldn't that be great?
It sounds like the easy and maybe even the most obvious option. And as much as I hate to admit it, it's become a much more appealing idea to me over the course of this summer. While before I wanted to be a crusader and show the world how life should and could really be lived, now I see the appeal of being comfortable and simply content.
So, maybe I'll just have to figure out a way of making a difference while still being comfortable, which, for some reason, makes me think I'd want to live in Ohio. Or maybe I will be that crusader and live in a hut and change the face of development as we know it. Who knows?
The good news is that I don't have to decide now. The bad news is that I could say that for the next 10 years.
The really confusing part of this situation is that I can choose a job, I can choose where to live, and I can choose who to associate with. I'm not stuck selling cassava that took me months to grow for 5 cents each. I'm not stuck in a town 10 minutes from an ocean I've never seen. And I'm not stuck with anybody who doesn't treat me kindly. How wonderful! I think I'll buy a three story house in Vermont and make a big fuss about where to seat Mrs. Shiva at my grand tea party for forty.
Looks like I'll never be a teacher, since I seem to be incapable of getting my point across, but what I'm trying to say is that, as attractive as the idea sounds, I don't think it's fair for me to take advantage of that American Dream that is perfectly within my grasp while there are people who I have met in my life who will never ever have that ease and luxury... Unless somebody helps them. It's way too easy to "care"from my living room couch without taking action.
But taking action sounds hard and intimidating.
I don't really know what I'm saying anymore, and I don't really understand why a fog horn is necessary for the church service going on outside, so I'll just stop.
I was on another walk with Ama (my host sister) when I heard a rustle in the bushes next to me. I wanted to see what animal was making the sound, so I stopped and stared hard at the ground. Then I made out a little furry face. Attached to the face was a cute little furry belly and some short little furry arms, holding a leafy twig that was feeding the furry face. Furry didn't stop munching, even though furry saw us seeing him. He just looked at us coolly. This was the most relaxed and lazy looking animal I'd seen so far in Ghana. It was like he was eating potato chips while watching his favorite sitcom.
While we were still standing there, I asked Ama what kind of animal Furry was. "Uhm..." she said, trying to think of the English name. Stuck, she eventually just said, "Amokwia." As soon as she said that, two men who were walking by stopped and turned to look at us. One man was carrying a metal bowl on his head and the other was holding an empty, plastic five-gallon jug. They said something to Ama in Fante, who pointed towards the bushes and said again, "Amokwia".
So the men walked over next to us and took at look in the bush. 'Oh,' I thought, 'they are coming to look at cute Furry, too.' Then the five-gallon jug slammed down on Furry's head, and Furry was carried away, being swung around like a lunch pail in a laughing school boy's hand. I knew the English name, then. Dinner. No translation necessary.
Maybe that man should have been a dentist. (YES, I fit in another Little Shop reference!)
By the way, the real translation is squirrel. Maybe a different species of squirrel, but, a squirrel all the same.
Well, that all happened in Eguafo, so I guess you know I went back there. It was a little strange, because the children from the orphanage had all gone to the beach and Selina (my friend who I gave my computer to and who I always see when I go there) was still in church, so it felt like I was sort of alone there with my host sister that Sunday. That's why we took the walk. But I saw a boy who I used to tutor last year. He's gotten taller and stronger. I only said hi to him the first time I went back to Eguafo, because he was busy then, and I hadn't seen him since. This was the last time I would see him, and again, it was for less than a minute.
Selina was home by the time we had finished our walk. We spent some time at her house. I had apparently given her the wrong phone number, so she wasn't able to call me the entire time that I've been here. She never knew when I was coming, I would always just show up when I could, unannounced. She showed me some wilted flowers. "I picked these for you on Saturday, because I thought you might come. But you didn't." Talk about symbolism.
I decided to take Ama and Selina to the main street of Cape Coast, since they don't get a chance to go there much. It was awkward. We didn't really have much to talk about and there's very little to do in town. We walked through the market, sat by the castle facing the sea while eating cookies, got some juice at a restaurant and went home. Not much talking was done. I don't know. So, that's the note that Selina and I ended on.
In the interest of lightening the mood, here is an amusing conversation I had with a man:
Man: "This is a goat."
Me: "Yes."
Man: "... This is a live goat. "
Me: "I can see that."
Here is another:
*Man 1 comes to our office to hand out free condoms*
Man 2: "Emily! Do you like condoms?"
Me: "I don't know, I've never worn one before. "
Man 2: "Me, I like condoms."
Me: "I'm so happy to hear that."
Man 2: "What will you use it for?"
Me: "Uhm... Probably nothing, seeing as I can't wear it."
Man 2: "Give it to me!"
Me: "What will you use it for?"
Man 2: "I'm going to use it on SUSAN*!"
*name has been changed. I did not relinquish my free gift. Sorry, Susan.
On another note, yesterday I saw a dog jump out at a sheep in the road. The sheep flinched back, and the dog smiled triumphantly at her. The sheep pulled herself together, took a step forward, and craned her neck out slowly, with wide and steady eyes, as if to say, "Do you really wanna mess with me?", glaring deep into the dog's soul. The dog recoiled and slunk away in fear. I call the sheep a 'her' because only a tough, hardened, confident woman has guts like that. She has forever changed my definition of the phrase,"to make sheep eyes at".
Also, I bought some more fertility beads that are pretty and that don't remind of anything in particular. Yayyy.
Here's another fun fact: In the U.S., we say a Black U.S. citizen is an African American (assuming she/he is from African descent, anyway, and not, say, Jamaican). But in Ghana, we say that same person is a Black American. I've never been called an Eastern European American or a White American. Everywhere I go I'm just White or American. I don't get an adjective. Who even decides how to label people, anyway?
Oh, so, as you already know, I'm used to being tapped or brushed as people walk by me, but the other day I was sitting in a taxi, finishing an ice cream pop while waiting to set off, when I felt someone from outside the car stroking my head. I couldn't really turn around because I was squished in sideways and I was holding ice cream, so the person kept stroking me for like, 10 seconds, which is a long time to be stroked when you can't do anything about it.
All of our hard work/bribes have been working! We have received 15 Day-Care Cetre inspection reports from the Assembly members in the last 2 weeks, which is more than were received in the last year. Hey, maybe we are making a difference. Yes. Yes, I believe we are. I'll really have something to say for myself once I get back home.
One more week, huh? Ok. Ok... Ok. I don't really... Know... If I should have been doing something more here. Did I do this trip right? I don't think so. My hindsight is 20/40, which means it's blurry. This whole trip has been a blur, so it's hard to look back on it and say anything decisive. I'll sure be glad to get home, though. Chill with Mom and Dad. Lie face down on the floor and pet Lucky. Yep, that's about how I would describe my life in California. Thrilling. But home.
I guess my next post will be from my room. The last post always is. Wow. The last post... Well,
Yoh, yen koh!
Ekuwa
(A very sarcastic PS: Being force fed while being forced to watch people on TV force themselves to vomit blood onto the floor is probably my new favorite activity.)
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