Perhaps my last post?

Hello friends and family!

I am sorry that I've neglected my blog so much. Hopefully my intense updates at the beginning of the semester made up for the last month I took off! So very many things have happened, but I've got to be real with all of you: I cannot catch you up. Or rather, I could try, but it would be difficult for both of us. I might include some more entries over the next few weeks and even months as I compare my experiences here in Ghana with my "real life," and any revelations I might have along the way. If that doesn't happen for some reason, I wanted to give you Molly's Greatest Hits of being in Ghana. I have had a really wonderful, phenomenal, incredible, unbelievable semester, but I am very much looking forward to coming home for a thousand different reasons, (many of you included!).

We had a re-entry workshop this evening at the academic center, where we learned about the different stages of re-entry (basically "super-excited and relieved" to "frustrated and confused" to "equalized and normal again"). I wasn't especially informed with new information at this meeting, but one of the activities we did was kind of nice. They gave us a sheet of paper and asked us to write down ten things that we did this semester and then share some of them with the group. It was interesting to hear what was memorable and important to each of us, and as the program continued, I found myself writing down more and more additions to my list. It was nice to be given that as a specific task, and it prompted me to write quite a long list. Some things were funny, some were serious, some were impressive, some were kind of scary and unbelievable in retrospect (sorry, Mom, but it's true). Anyway, as a segue into my return, I have decided to share my list. Hopefully this can facilitate some of our first "What did you do in Ghana!?" conversations, and if not for you, it is helpful and fun for me to look back and remember what I did for the four months I lived in Africa.

1.) Swam under a waterfall
2.) Drank huge 2 cedi beers
3.) Walked through a slave castle
4.) Taught English to 70 Junior Secondary School students
5.) Traveled to Benin and Togo (in French)
6.) Rode on taxi-motos and tro-tros
7.) Danced with old women and children
8.) Took a 12+hour bus ride (and a 12+hour plane ride)
9.) Sat in a colonial bungalow with a former mayor of Accra
10.) Beached closer to the equator than I ever had
11.) Stopped
12.) Took some of the best photos I've ever taken
13.) Made great new friends and hopefully new roommates
14.) Blogged and journaled
15.) Realized how traditional and simultaneously quirky my family is, and how much I love it
16.) Got some sweet and cheap clothing made
17.) Loved being driven places and looking out the window at Africa
18.) Learned about a lot of incredible music
19.) Tested standing friendships, which ultimately strengthened
20.) Ate anything and everything that was offered to me
21.) Watched the news more and the election constantly
22.) Rarely sang, but danced a lot
23.) Used the phone MUCH less
24.) Spoke more slowly
25.) Learned and redefined my own personal boundaries
26.) Learned about globalization, especially the IMF and World Bank
27.) Wore braids for a month
28.) Learned some new vocabulary (verbal and physical)
29.) Listened to African Christmas music in a tro-tro
30.) Put my complete trust in complete strangers
31.) Got homesick for the first time
32.) Went to African church
33.) Started working out, eating less, and lost weight
34.) Redefined the value of things (cabs, food, clothing)
35.) Haggled for the first time and got pretty good at it
36.) Learned not to expect a (good) bathroom
37.) Started using British English
38.) Watched SNL via iTunes the week after it finally downloaded
39.) Listened to very long stories
40.) "Good afternoon, Auntie. How are you?" "Fine, how is it?" "Fine, thank you." "You are welcome!"
41.) Shook hands with a snap
42.) Been hissed at, and eventually understood that it wasn't a cat call
43.) Hated taxis so much, and still could never find one when I needed one
44.) Washed a meal's worth of dishes with a cup of water
45.) Used hairspray instead of washing my hair
46.) Learned to expect a different meal than what I ordered
47.) Celebrated my first Thanksgiving away from home
48.) Ate lunch out of a plastic bag
49.) Said hello to people on the street

When people asked me why I was going to Ghana, a big part of my reasoning was, "I want to go someplace where I am the minority and feel really uncomfortable and have to deal with it." So...

50.) Been completely uncomfortable and dealt with it.


I want to send out final, special thank yous to everyone who kept in touch with me while I was here. Above and beyond email or Facebook, EXTRA special thanks to Auntie Sharon, the Garcia clan, Katie Lynch, and my family, who all sent packages and letters throughout my semester. Thank you, Uncle Joe, for trying to send me a package, and I'm sorry it never made it! It's definitely the thought that counts. Auntie Sharon sent me a card almost every week, and I can't tell you how happy it made me to get a little piece of mail so consistently. Auntie Fran sent me multiple packages, including a large donation of hand-made Christmas gifts for my J.S.S. students (Yeah, Gabby!), which was particularly thoughtful and such a nice gesture. Katie sent me a package of goodies, in addition to a Halloween card and a postcard of Ogunquit, which I promptly showed to all of my friends to help explain what MY Maine is :-) Everyone has been so wonderfully supportive, and I can't wait to share my experiences with you in person.

Happy Holidays!

Love from Africa, with only 4 days to go!
-Molly

Current Events

Hello again! I know I have yet to explain my fall break, which was fantastic, but I feel the need to prioritize my posts and begin with an explanation of my evening last night. Meghan has insisted that I document the events as they occurred, as they will act as a wealth of material for our future artistic projects. Here goes,

Meghan has befriended a boy named Nana, a student, cab-driver, and conversationalist extraordinaire. We went out with him to a bar this past week to meet with some of his friends, and ended up having the most wonderful evening. A friend of his who I was talking to the most, Agbo, invited us to go dancing at a restaurant/bar called Chez Afrique on Saturday night, so off we went last night. I had a great conversation with Agbo at our first meeting, and I was looking forward to having a designated dance partner on our night out. Meg and I got dolled up (in a laid back, African way) and taxied over to Chez Afrique.

I was worried I wouldn't recognize Agbo right away, since I had only met him once, in the dark, but he waved us over right away when we got out of our cab. Big hugs all around, we got a table outside, and he introduced Meghan and me to his friend and bandmate, Ahenfi, who he had brought along. Nana was running late, but we got some drinks and started chatting. Random conversation questions, as are typical in a Molly conversation, included what kind of music do you listen to? Where would you like to travel, outside of Ghana? etc. Ahenfi was charming and conversational in a sheepish way, with a great smile (clearly I enjoyed his company), while Agbo kept leaving the table to take phone calls, and was generally less conversational than I had remembered from our first meeting. I noticed a trend in his answers: Africa, Africa, Africa. I think of myself as so supportive and respectful of African tradition and the preservation of traditional culture in the face of an imposing Western world, however Agbo's answers seemed almost hypocritical. He is very intelligent, and can talk rings around most of the other Ghanaian guys I have met (Nana and Ahenfi excluded), but while his focus is on African culture (eg. "Reggae is my way of life," and "I would travel to other places in Africa instead of going to Europe or the Americas"), he has no interest in expanding his view to understand other cultures. He was also much less social than I had anticipated, only asking questions one-on-one, and brooding in between his own answers. At one point, he actually stopped the conversation we were having as a group, to say that "This is not the place to talk about desserts. These are the things we should talk about here." (Clearly, I was questioning my interest at this anti-dessert remark!)

And then he complimented my "teat".

Yes, as Meghan sparked an interesting conversation with Nana, leaving me to avoid Agbo's gaze, he leans across the table to say, "I've been meaning to tell you. You have a nice teat." I thought at first that he was complimenting my teeTH, and I was misunderstanding an accent thing, so I asked, confused, "Pardon me?" He leaned over the table again, in front of Ahenfi, to clear things up, "I said I like your teat. It's very nice."

I was at a loss for words. It's not every day that a girl gets a compliment like that. I wondered if he were complimenting one specific teat, considering he made the specific choice to compliment "teat"--singular. I faltered slightly, saying "Thank you...." and dove into Meghan and Nana's conversation without apology in order to avoid Agbo, yet again.

In the middle of a nice Nana-Meghan-Ahenfi conversation--and after many more cell phone call exits--Agbo asked me to dance. I thought that this might be a welcome change from having to talk. Bahaha. Little did I know that Agbo was, in fact, crazy on the dance floor. And by "crazy," I do NOT mean: fun, enjoyable, easy to dance with, or particularly inviting. What I do mean is that he is more of a solo dancer (full-on leaning over, staring up at me and rubbing his chest--pardon me, HIS teatS), followed by the ever-popular air humping, all of which were a little too close for comfort. Meanwhile, we are ALONE on the dance floor in front of a LIVE band and a ROOM full of local Ghanaians at tables, watching. I don't know if I've ever been so completely uncomfortable in my entire life.

Slowly, more people joined us on the dance floor (thank goodness), and I spotted Ahenfi sitting on the sidelines, drinking a beer and watching the ridiculousness that was my dance partner (a term I still use loosely). Agbo also saw him, and pulled him up onto the dance floor with us. Luckily, this opened up our dancing to a slightly larger group, and Ahenfi proved to be a very appropriate dancer, smiling and enjoying himself, while appropriately following the music and staying far enough away from me or any girl to be polite. Then, Agbo volunteered to go get Meghan and Nana, who were still talking at the table outside, leaving me dancing briefly with Ahenfi. After a minute or two, Nana and Meghan were on the dance floor, and Agbo swooped in to dance with Meghan. Seeing that, I took Nana's hand and we danced for a bit (again, completely appropriately and having a great time), while Meghan got to experience first hand, the wonderful dance stylings of Agbo. We made eye contact a few times, and she clearly wanted out, but I decided to give her a real chance to understand what the previous 20 minutes of my life had been like, as I knew I could never fully explain. Eventually, Agbo broke away and started the airhumping in my direction again, but with more people dancing, there was a little more of a buffer.

After a song or two, Meghan and I went to the ladies room, where I could finally react to the date that had been going on, and voice my complete distress. Meghan felt awful (as we both simultaneously thought it was hilarious that this was my real life), and we decided that upon reentry to our respective "dates", we would suggest some more sitting and talking (and drinking), as an alternative to the embarrassing dancing. When we walked back out onto the dance floor, the boys were nowhere to be found, and we discovered that they had beat us to the table. Agbo had somehow supplied a bottle of red wine, along with an addition to his ensemble for the evening: a maroon fedora hat, from unknown origin. Once we sat down, Ahenfi went back in to dance, clearly avoiding the fifth-wheel status (even though I had just told Meghan that I was more interested in Ahenfi than Agbo, and at least a conversation with him could divert the attention and salvage the evening). So off he went, and as Meghan and Nana launched into another private conversation, I was left once again with Agbo, scraping for conversation topics and trying to avoid any more "compliments". For the first time in my life, I clearly recognized that I was doing an inner-monologue voice over whatever Agbo was saying. I would listen for key words and pay attention to his tone, so I knew when to smile or squint or nod, and I would ask him complicated questions about his culture (clearly, again the basis of our conversation) so he would talk for long periods of time without me needing to contribute. He is a very smart person, and a nice guy, but our first conversation at our first meeting made so much more sense in this context (his questions like, "Why don't you have more African wear?" and "If you married an African man, would you give your children traditional or Western names?" and "Why didn't you plan to stay in Ghana for Christmas? It would be an opportunity to see something completely different from how you've always seen it.") All valid and interesting questions, but now I understood them in a different light. I felt like I was being interrogated, and always managed to respond with the "correct" answer, but I always felt like I was being judged with his responses like, "I'm glad you answered that way." What would have happened if I had answered "incorrectly?" If he weren't Nana's friend and bandmate--instead, just some random guy from a bar--I would have loved to screw with the conversation, telling him that I actually hate Africans, I don't like music, I only eat McDonald's, and I wanted to go to London, but the program was full. Instead, I started kicking Meghan under the table, and when Agbo excused himself to answer yet another phone call, I dove into Meghan and Nana's conversation (again, without apology for "interrupting"...this was an emergency), and proceeded to include myself in their chat, even when Agbo returned.

It was getting late, and I suggested to Meghan that we leave. Nana offered to drive us home, which was again, wonderful, and all five of us piled into his cab, Meghan and Nana in front, and me, in between the date I wished I had, and the date I wished I hadn't. We dropped Agbo and and Ahenfi off in their neighborhood around the corner, not before Agbo took yet another opportunity to compliment my "teat," before exiting the vehicle. I shook hands with Ahenfi (sigh) and wish Agbo a pleasant evening, and off we went towards our side of town.

I decided that I would ask Nana about the date and what I should do with the Agbo situation, but our car-ride conversation never lulled to include it. Nana is so personable and kind, and he so effortlessly fits the role of the pseudo-boyfriend for Meghan, while he can also be completely comfortable with me as Meghan's best friend here. I wish this situation existed at home in the states, since we are all getting along with him so well. Ah well. He dropped us off, and we planned to meet up again on Tuesday night for the NYU Election party (which I'm PSYCHED for), and we said our goodnights.

Just another night in Africa. With a crazy-dancing, fedora-wearing, teat-complimenting guy named Agbo. One for the blogs.

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I'll do a Fall Break installment sometime soon. Suffice it to say, there were beaches, batik, bugs, baguettes, bananas, and beer. A very "B" break, including various souvenirs and a nice tan to prove I was on vacation. I had a wonderful time, and I especially enjoyed my time getting to know the other 6 girls on the trip. I didn't take too many pictures (in comparison with my normal trigger-happy excursions), but I've been uploading some of my friends' pictures to the "Me Doing Things" collection on my Flickr page, so you can all take a look. I also have a few Halloween pictures (another hilarious evening, I dressed as Sarah Palin, complete with impressions), so be sure to check it out.

Love love love from Africa. And special thanks to all of you who have sent me things over the last few weeks. I've so enjoyed getting your letters and packages, and I can't wait to see you all again and tell you even more in person.

Love,
Molly

Xzibit Was Here

So, I pimped my blog. These changes come after helping Meghan start a blog for the organization she is volunteering with, Jaynii Streetwise (see the handy link on your left). In customizing a new blog for them, I discovered all sorts of new fun things to put on my own. Now, even from Ghana, I can continue to ask insightful conversation questions (I just can't stare at you and force you to respond). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new little additions! And be sure to check out Jaynii Streetwise. They are a really incredible grassroots organization (or beachroots, I guess?) raising funds to send kids to school and giving them a safe place to be instead of on the streets.

This past weekend we went to Kumasi, which is a small city about 4-6 hours outside of Accra (depending on traffic, as we unfortunately discovered). The weekend was basically an overnight shopping trip, with a slight facade of historical relevance. We went to a cultural center for lunch and proceeded to wander the "campus" of sorts, purchasing artisans' work and taking more pictures with children (a tourist opportunity for both parties involved, as most children love to be in a snapshot with an "obruni"). Then, we were off to the presidential palace of Kumasi where we took a tour with a humorously emphatic guide. Next, we went to an Asante (Ashanti) stool village. Now, while Meghan and I had a good time being middle schoolers and making poop jokes, the Asante stool is actually a sacred symbol of the Asante tribe and nation (within Ghana). It's literally a small stool made of gold (of which the Asante's have quite a bit) that has served as the symbol of power and pride of the Asante Kingdom for centuries. There are all sorts of historical details I could include here, but I'm not going to. You could look all that stuff up online. The point is, I was there. It was neat. Mostly, "the historical trip to the stool village" was another opportunity to buy things; this time it was wood carvings (including your own personal stools!) from hustling street-side vendors. Yes, this was part of the official NYU tour. It was a fine time, but added to the extent of our shopping under the guise of "cultural experience." I can't deny the cultural aspect of it, though, as I refined some of my haggling techniques during that stop.
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Side note: I almost forgot! I tasted pure cacao! It's sweet, but tastes almost fruity. When we were at the palace, someone asked one of the tour guides outside what "that weird green fruit" was. Answer: cacao! He broke it open for us and let us suck on the cacao beans inside, which are white and kind of slimy, to tell you the truth. Without guidance, I never would've guessed that those little white seeds ended up in the Hershey's bar I'm pining for. I can check that off my life to-do list, I guess!
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The next day we went to the market in downtown Kumasi. We went on a Sunday, so it was decidedly less crowded and crazy than it would be on a weekday or especially Saturday, but I'm glad my maiden voyage into Kumasi was under these conditions. It was much easier to walk around through the vendors (of which there are literally hundreds) and the market actually extends for blocks and blocks, all on ground level (versus Kaneshi market in Accra, which includes a three-story building that's organized into categorized floors). I wandered around with a few friends specifically on the lookout for fabric and shoes, both of which we accomplished with flying colors (haha). I got a few different fabrics (a LOT cheaper this time now that I know what I should actually be paying and can haggle more successfully) and I got two new pairs of nicer flip flops which cost 7 Ghana cedis combined. I was pleased with myself. (Another note: I needed "nicer" flip flops because the plain, black Teva flip flops I have been wearing are commonly regarded as "shower shoes". Since I'm teaching English now, I had particular need for some more appropriate footwear.) After a quick lunch back at the hotel, we were once again on the road for another 6-hour drive home. A wallet-draining, suitcase-filling, haggle-perfecting time was had by all.

Speaking of teaching, I did that again. I taught on Tuesday from 8am (eek) until almost 1pm, which was longer than I expected. I had the first class I had worked with first, from 8-9ish, and then spent their 45-minute break sitting by myself in the headmaster's office staring at the map, trying unsuccessfully to memorize the countries of Africa. Then, I met with my second class for about two hours. Each class had progressed about 2 pages from when I had last seen them, so I felt a relief on my part, but disappointment for them. They have English three times a week, and I can't help but think that they should be getting through a lot more in the same amount of time, but I also need to stop imposing my Western history of education on them. I think they could handle it, but this is what they do, and I need to work with it.

All the kids were excited to see me again. They now refer to me as "Molly says" when I come into the room, which I don't mind at all. I get lots of handshakes and a few hugs. We got a lot accomplished in their book, did some more oral exercises, and I introduced a new game: hangman. I had considered bringing it into my lesson plan the night before, and that idea proved to be a good one when we finished reading the next short story in their book and they didn't understand at least two words in each paragraph. So most of my first class was spent as a human dictionary for all the words they hadn't recognized, which dovetailed very nicely into a game of hangman on the board with me giving my definitions as clues and forcing them to not only recognize the word, but spell it without looking at their books. I was proud of that, actually. It went really well. I played "Molly says" with my second class for their first time, which also went over very well, in comparison with the caning I observed in the class next door. No wonder they love my class. The most important thing to me is that they leave my class knowing something they didn't know when they came in. I sound like a real teacher. It's true though. And I think they're getting something out of this, so I'm happy.

I am going on fall break next week, so my next post will probably be long (if I can actually regurgitate an entire week of activities in one sitting). This is actually the first my family is hearing of my plans (we'll talk tonight on the phone, guys!) but I'm really excited. A group of 7 of us from my program are traveling to Togo and Benin, which are the two Francophone countries east of Ghana. We're leaving early Friday morning and we'll be gone for just over a week. Our itinerary (all organized by my friend, Vivian, to whom I have handed over the reigns of "super-planner") includes everything from hiking through butterfly forests, to horseback riding on the beach, to visiting fetish markets, to beaching with sea turtles, to touring cathedrals, to swimming in a waterfall, to renting a beach bungalow. I am SO EXCITED. I am bringing loads of extra batteries for my camera to hopefully capture a lot of it on film (haha...technically on memory card) to upload and show you all when I get back. It's going to be so much fun. Not only did Vivian plan a very diverse schedule of activities, but the 6 girls I am going with are all wonderful and I know I will have a great time with all of them.

Well, the van is almost here to take me to dinner, so that's all for now, folks. Maybe I'll get another post in before I leave for Togo, but if not: have a wonderful week and you'll hear from me again soon!

Love from Africa,
Molly

I'm Getting Bad at This

I feel like I've let an egregious amount of time go by without a post. My family has even emailed me saying, "Where are you? What are you up to?" I can tell my mother didn't want to seem worried (we've been emailing regularly enough to quell any real parental fears--I hope!) but I haven't been very good at updating anyone lately, other than the fact that I am alive. So much has happened, per usual, so I will do my best to go over the last week or so.

First of all (and this is less of an update than just news for me) I discovered my good friend Ryann's blog just a few minutes ago and I am SO thrilled. Ryann is studying abroad through NYU's program in Shanghai, and I have been meaning to email her to ask about it, and I haven't (I told you...I've fallen off the face of the earth a little...a.k.a. my internet has also been sporadic....but mostly I just wasn't on the ball). She is "following" my blog, and I found hers, and now I can read about her adventures in China, which is awesome. So, hi Ryann! I miss you dearly! I hope you're having a blast!!!

Also, a bunch of my friends in NYC are presenting their first (or not) pieces this weekend (Hooray particularly for Evan, Randi, and Lindsey!!!) It's weird to be here in Africa and get updates from my studio at NYU about my classmates putting up work. I'm not exactly jealous, mostly just sad to be missing their shows. Anyway, super good luck and happy openings to all of them tonight!

Soooooo. This past weekend I went on a Habitat for Humanity Build. It was only for an overnight, and it ended up raining so the second half of our work time and most of our cultural activities were canceled (not a lot you can do with mud bricks in a downpour). It was a good weekend, but I wish we could have done more. Some people have conflicting views about Habitat here in Africa (Ghana, specifically). It's kind of a different animal here than it is in the U.S., from what I have come to understand. Regardless of these potential conflicts of interest, I wished on a very basic level that we could have contributed more. I felt like we breezed in, they had to house and feed us for an overnight, and we made some bricks and mortared a level or two of them on an already started foundation. I don't know. It was a nice opportunity to get out of Accra for a day or two, lather on multiple layers of bug spray (in our partially screened host house--I brought my bug netting, Mom!), take a shower in the rain, stomp in some mud like Lucille Ball, eat rice from a cooler (twice), and play Mafia around a bonfire for over an hour. It felt a little camp-like (especially the campfire games...and not showering....and taking care of business in a latrine). All said and done, I was relieved to take a shower IN a shower and sleep in a room without the fear of THE malaria attacking me in the night. It can easily be debated if we have it "too good" with our NYU program--that we live in a little American bubble and don't really experience the culture--and I still maintain that this trip is completely what you make of it, but I am not going to vex the hot running water or A/C. I could survive just fine without, but I am FINE with having it as part of my home, and if that makes me some sort of "bad" abroad person, so be it.

Last night, I went to the Alliance Francaise (the French Alliance for all of you confused readers out there...I hope there are none of you) for a live music concert last night. It was part of a series that an NYU alum organized as part of his Fulbright project. Pretty awesome. He plays saxophone in an African brass band called "Rock of Ages" and their great. We saw some other performers (including a large ensemble that included a drum kit, bass guitar, multiple traditional African drums, maracas, a recorder-like-instrument, and two conch shells--pretty fantastic), but we all started dancing when Rock of Ages (literally) marched onto the stage. We then proceeded to dance for the following 45 minutes or so of their set. It was great. If you couldn't guess it, dancing here is pretty much compulsory in life....for everyone. I mean, men, women, children, OLD men and women, babies, dogs, cats, fish, plants....everyone dances. And it's not creepy, molesting, bump and grind action like it often is in the states. It's a mixture of salsa and traditional and ballroom and whatever you want. Sure, there are the occasional romantic advances on the dance floor (not surprising, since dancing is one of the primary forms of flirtation in MOST cultures, including Africa), but for the most part, you can have a fun dance with someone, thank them at the end of the song, and walk away unscathed. (And as if it could get better, it's a GREAT workout.) I'm really looking forward to being able to go out dancing and clubbing when I get back to school in the spring (after February), but I know that dancing at home will not be the same. I love club music and dancing, too, but maybe I can seek out a place where I can really go "dancing." It's such a different mentality from the "going to get drunk and flail around" stereotype of most NYC clubs. We'll see. I'm certainly not well-versed in the NYC night-life scene (and I feel like the vocabulary of this entire paragraph is categorizing me as an AARP member...I hate what those hooligans down at the hip hop places are grinding to these days!) but live music adds such a fun extra element (last night I danced with the snare drum player for a little bit--while he was playing--which was hilarious and so much fun!). Oh, Africa.

I'm trying to recall anything else stellar that's happened lately. We had two big birthdays this past week at Solomon's, and we basically got two awesome private parties out of them. Meghan's 21st birthday and Linda's 19th (baby!). For both evenings, all of us from the house (and a few select invitees) went out to dinner and then to a bar/club for drinks and dancing. Each night was a little different. Meghan's birthday obviously needed to include more of an alcohol-theme, no matter her already legal status here in Ghana. Linda's was less about drinking, and more about dancing, which as the last paragraph detailed, was fine with me. Africa is subversively getting to my music taste, and I'm really into hip hop, rap, and R&B lately. I can't really get in the mood to listen to Feist here, so a night out dancing to Chris Brown, Ne-Yo, Timbaland, and Estelle is also lots of fun (with me obnoxiously mouthing/singing the words to all the songs). Luckily for everyone, both parties ended up being pretty private (based on the Tuesday and Sunday nights on which we celebrated) so I didn't embarrass anyone but myself. Mostly myself.

That's about all for now. Obviously lots more things happened, but I'm getting tired and I'm sure you are too. No one is in the mood for another War and Peace post, so I'll call it a night. This weekend we are going on another overnight excursion--this time to Kumasi, a village a few hours outside of Accra with a historically HUGE market. I don't remember from the itinerary if we'll have a long time to spend there, but I'm planning on buying some more fabric and things while I'm there, so I'm particularly excited. (Forget history and culture...give me 6 yards of batik!) I would argue that there is some history and culture in that purchase anyway! Oh! I don't think I posted this yet either: I got my hair braided! Gah! I never thought I would, but I got bored and intrigued and eventually spent around $20 (expensively) and 4 very painful hours getting crimped braids in my hair. It's pretty hilarious, but I think it's fun and it cuts my shower time in half (easily!) from an already modest amount. Also, it makes grungy excursions easier when my hair doesn't feel grimy after a shower-less morning. AND I can tie my hair in knots and it stays. I'm sure I'll take it out in a few weeks (I don't plan on gracing JFK with my crazy locks) but it's fun for now. I'll post some new pictures soon so all you non-Facebook readers can see.

Okay now I'm really done. I miss fall in New England. Please enjoy it for me (everyone who can).

Love,
Molly

Combo-post (a.k.a. the "War and Peace" of blog posts)

My internet and power have been sporadic over the past two days, so my updates are going to be combined: one I will leave intact from Monday night, followed by my response today about the last two days. Forgive any redundancies, as I don’t want to waste the post I already wrote. Here it goes…

I am disappointed. I am disappointed because I was supposed to iChat with Eliza at 9pm (my time) before she went to rehearsal, and our power was out and my computer wasn't charged, and after a really great day, I missed out on the thing I was looking forward to most. Now our power is back on briefly, Eliza is at rehearsal, and I am blogging. What can ya do?

In lieu of chatting, I figured I would at least update everyone on my latest Ghana happenings. I already forget most of what I did last week, so let's assume that it was all great and things are going well! The big news of this week is that this past weekend was our first homestay weekend!! This was a big deal. Only 17 students ended up doing the homestay out of the 41 total in the program, which I was surprised about. A lot of people are planning on doing the second homestay in about 2 weeks (geesh! already!) but I was one of few who decided to go for the gold and do this homestay, as well. We had a short orientation last week, which basically told us to prepare for anything and everything (both culturally, as well as in practical packing). We could, they warned, be going to a wedding, a funeral, an outdooring ceremony (bringing a baby out into the community for the first time--which I would LOVE to go to!), church, etc. So, I packed my bag full of a white dress, a black dress, a traditional dress that I'd had made, a skirt, two shirts, black linen pants, a sweater, nice sandals, flip flops, pajamas, underwear, and lots of bugspray. (By the way, this was for a Friday night-Sunday day trip.) I felt drastically over-prepared, but if I hadn't brought my wardrobe, I probably would have had to go to all of the aforementioned events. I was going to be homestaying with another NYU student with a host family who we knew nothing about, so I was very nervous. I knew I would make the best out of whatever situation I ended up in, but I felt like I was being adopted and didn't know who exactly I was waiting for to pick me up. Very strange. Julia (the other NYU girl) and I were the last to get picked up at the exchange program office (obviously). We were greeted by Sarah, a very nice Ghanaian girl, who took us in a cab through about an hour or more of traffic to Tema, a sort of suburb of Accra. On the way, we went through a lot of basic "getting to know you" smalltalk: where we were from, what the NYU program is like (they knew NOTHING about us either), what our families are like, how our families and friends felt about us coming to Ghana, what movies, foods, music, and other things we liked, etc. We found out that Sarah is one of 5 children with a single mom, but Sarah is the only child in the house. She is 18, about to enter University in Accra studying French and international relations, with a sister in boarding high school, and three older brothers out of the house and abroad (I think I got that right). She spent the last year in France through the same exchange program we were using, and her mom had wanted to host someone for a whole year too, but thought that it would be too boring in the house with just her. This was the first time they were hosting anyone, but Sarah and her mother had both been to Europe before, so they already understood a more international attitude in the way to which many Ghanaians (and Americans) do not necessarily relate. Sarah and Evelyn (her mom) live in an apartment in a larger apartment complex in Tema. Their apartment was a good size, but I could not imagine all those children in there at one time! The first night we were there, we basically threw down our stuff in the room Julia and I were sharing, and had dinner and watched television with Sarah and Evelyn. TV is big in Ghana (not unlike in most of the U.S.), but it actually offered an easy transition so we could chat and then watch and then chat. Sarah and Evelyn were sooooo wonderful, and it was nice to get to know a local Ghanaian around our age for a change. Saturday I was woken up at 4am by the roosters outside my window (Bill was right, they sound like cartoons, or like people doing rooster impressions), but I was able to go back to sleep until about 8am or so. I got up, got dressed, and went into the kitchen where Julia was already up and reading. We had breakfast and hung out around the house for a while, and eventually went with Sarah to get her hair washed and "done” (all of which cost a total of 2 cedis…approximately 2 American dollars). I considered getting my hair done somehow for a change (without any drastic cuts) but decided to leave well enough alone (mostly with Nick in my head crying, “NOOOOOO!!!!”) and we left. Then, we walked to a supermarket around the corner to get cereal and ice cream, and then took a cab back to the apartment. It was a strange cross between the business of Accra and the slower, more spread out villages. Definitely more metropolitan than Torgome where we donated the school supplies, but really like a suburb in comparison with my usual surroundings. It's difficult to compare to American suburbs, but that's what it was. We walked around her apartment a little to see the neighborhood, and then proceeded to eat lunch and watch more TV for the rest of the afternoon (complemented by more chatting, Julia French braiding my hair, and me showing off some of my African dance moves). Evelyn was at a funeral (and I had been so prepared!) so we didn't see her again until dinnertime. We ate, watched more TV, and finally went to sleep early so we would be ready for church in the morning! The next morning we were up closer to the roosters' arrival, and we got to church around 7:20am or so, just after the English service had started. The church was very pretty, open air, and there were keyboards and a drum set next to the altar (again, all I could think about was how much Eliza would love it). We were made to stand up and introduce ourselves again like at the Legon church, but everyone was so welcoming and wonderful. It was really great. After the service, we went to Sunday school with Sarah for about an hour, where we discussed (or I watched as they discussed) the meaning and definition of prayer. I wanted to contribute, but I felt a little more out of my league as other students my age quoted specifics from the Bible, and I felt ill prepared to substantiate any of my claims, so I just observed. Afterwards, we went back to the apartment to change and we were off with Sarah's uncle and cousin to visit her other boy cousin at boarding high school for visiting day. It was really surreal, and we basically surprised this 16-year-old boy by showing up randomly at his visiting day. He was actually wonderfully polite and conversational. After about an hour or so of chit-chatting, we left and drove over to Sarah's sister's high school to visit. It was really interesting to see this other part of the typical Ghanaian culture that I had heard so much about. Two very different schools, but the concept of boarding high school is pretty uniform throughout the country, as a sort of means of evening everyone out before entering university. After a little visit to Sarah's sister, Evelyn showed up and informed us that a good friend of hers who worked in Accra would drive us back to our dorms in Labone, which was wonderful (especially since I thought we would be taking a taxi that whole way). So we went with Sarah back to the apartment to pick up our things, and we were on our way! Overall, it was a great weekend. There were little inconveniences in comparison to the dorm, like the lack of towels and running water and A/C, but any inconveniences were very easy to deal with and were totally made up for with Sarah and Evelyn's hospitality and wonderful personalities. I am definitely going to make an effort to visit them in Tema again this semester, and I'm already Facebook friends with Sarah (who is due for a visit to OUR house sometime soon)! It was nice to come "home" to my own bed, my shower, and my things, but I had a much better experience than many of my housemates, so I consider myself very lucky for being hosted by such nice people. I am definitely glad I did it (and still not a mosquito bite on me!)

In other news, I received my first care package today. Unfortunately, Uncle Joe's care package is still being held hostage by the U.S. Postal Service (or perhaps the Ghanaian p.o. by now). While I'm still thinking happy thoughts regarding that box, I got a FedEx package from my family today, which included two baby pumpkins (one for me, one for Meg), a bag of bouncy balls (you know...all the important stuff), CRANBERRY SAUCE (jellied, none of that whole berry nonsense--I hadn't thought of this, but I LOVE cranberry sauce, and I was thrilled to find it at the top of the box--CRANBABIES!!! :-)), some magazines, school supplies, and a few other things. It made me miss home, getting the letter in my Mom's handwriting and realizing that it must be getting cooler and more fall-ish in New England now. I'm jealous. But I had a long day of classes and special documentary screenings and discussions and dinner and reading and not having electricity and now blogging, so I've kept myself busy enough to avoid too much homesickness today. I also just got a long message from Nick on Facebook, which was so nice but made me miss him and my other friends, too. Nick cut his hair!!!! I hate missing all the important things! :-) It will be strange to come back to people that look different, and thinking about that was weird. Even though, I'm sure I will be returning looking a little different, too. Can't even believe it. Only 12 more weeks! Eek!

Tomorrow is a big day. I have to get up early to walk to the junior secondary school where I am doing my volunteering. Oh, by the way, my volunteering? TEACHING ENGLISH TO JUNIOR HIGH STUDENTS. Like....what? I got kind of roped into it without realizing that this was what they needed, and although I am still working to pursue my environmental art project ideas and so forth, I will now also be teaching the English language a few days a week. I'll definitely let you all know how things go tomorrow. I am very intimidated by this, but I am hoping (slash insisting...) that they will let me shadow a class before they throw me into the fire by myself. They literally just need teachers, and somehow I am qualified because I am available. Very alien to me, coming from the U.S. (a.k.a. credential center). I stated what I was interested in working on (environmental projects, cleanups, etc.) and I discovered that some environmental NGO is already in contact with the school and is organizing a clean up day sometime this week, in addition to extracurricular environmental awareness activities. So, someone basically beat me to the punch at this particular school. The most important thing is that the program is instigated, no matter who does it. But it put me in a tough spot, since I already went to visit and was basically recruited to teach anything I was remotely familiar with. I really couldn't back out now, despite the slight miscommunication about the job description, so I'm going to try to do the environmental work somewhere else and meanwhile teach a few classes a week to help them out. I'll let you know how that goes.

Tomorrow, I am having a phone conversation with the director of the Greening Youth Foundation, which is an environmental awareness organization based out of Georgia in the U.S. The Associate Director of the NYU in Ghana program, Christa, is a board member of this organization, and she's been trying to start a satellite program here in Ghana for the organization. So I'm basically her guinea pig volunteer for this program. I had to update and send her my resume and a basic proposal for the environmental issues I see here in Accra, and some ideas about local initiatives in schools to educate students about their place in environmental preservation, etc. Apparently, the director of GYF is "excited about me" and I'm looking forward to this meeting. Christa has told me that they already have some ideas for the program, but that they welcome my input, and I'm hoping to work my water bottle sculpture into the curriculum! Again, I'll let you all know how that goes!

More tomorrow or Wednesday about my adventures! Things are going really well, and I'm excited to receive all your packages! Thank you in advance to everyone who has sent me things. I might not get them for a while, but I'll enjoy them whenever they happen to arrive!

Love from Africa,
Molly McCoy
Okay, so now for a Wednesday update. I woke up this morning at 7am with a terrible stomachache (with the potential for both upward and downward movement), so I ended up calling out of “work” today at the school. Meghan was wonderful in helping me with this. I had just crawled back into bed after a bathroom session when she came in from doing yoga in the living room. I informed her of my ambitious morning activities and how I needed to call our volunteer organizer to get the number of the headmaster at the school to let him know that I couldn’t come in today, to which Meg replied, “Do you want me to call for you?” Sooooooo a yes. She asked me if I needed anything else, which I didn’t, and told me to go back to sleep and she would take care of it. She was my unofficial mom for the morning, which I really needed and appreciated. I am feeling much better now. I had also over-exercised yesterday (mostly by accident) and my body was physically exhausted, too, so some extra sleep and physical rest helped a lot. I’m pretty sure that my stomach problems were from the food I ate last night (from our meal-plan restaurant…). I have more trouble with them than anyone else, so I’m sticking to rice and yams there for the rest of the program. (I’m mostly serious).

So yesterday. I woke up around 7am, did my morning routine, dressed in teacher-appropriate attire (a brown sleeveless shirt and a matching brown polka-dotted skirt with my white sandal pumps—I was Mrs. Chocolate Molly), ate some breakfast, and walked a few streets over to meet Jasmine, the other NYU girl volunteering at this junior high school. We chatted as we walked the half hour to the school, passing various street vendors and other people along the way. I am interested to have this route become more regular and explore the food options along the way (hopefully not to send me into more mornings like this one). When we got to the school, the headmaster met with us and literally said, “So what do you want to teach today?” I requested that we get an opportunity to observe a class so we could see how they taught, to which he obliged. I sat in on a science class, which was sadly intimidating. The students were learning about matter and atoms and ions and things that I haven’t thought actively about in at least five years. When it came down to it, I could teach whatever they wanted me to with enough preparation, but I had read the English Language syllabus, not the Science one, so I was a little freaked out. At the end of the period (during the first of their breaks), I went to the headmaster and asked if I could “teach” an English class instead, since I was better prepared (ha!) for that class. He again obliged, saying that I could teach whatever I wanted (still such a strange concept) and he got me the textbook/workbook volume that my class was working on. By “working on,” I mean to say that they had opened the book and had read the first page. There was no sign of their “real” English teacher, and the headmaster said that he/she was gone to let us teach (this is a concept that I still do not entirely understand…as I am sure it is difficult for you). So…I took my syllabus, my book, and my bag, and walked into a classroom of about 35 junior high students and proceeded to teach them a two-hour English lesson. (Mr. McCallum…I’m not sure if you are feeling proud or appalled…or both.) I knew from Jasmine (who has taught English before in NGO work in a small village in Ghana last year) that much of what they learn is by wrote, so lots of reading, writing, repetition, etc. She suggested that I try working through the exercises in the book, but find ways of activating the students, which I agreed was the best idea. In a Sparknotes version of the class, I introduced myself and explained that I would be with them occasionally until December, that I spoke American English, so some of the things I said or even taught might sound different from what they’re used to, but if I ever spoke too quickly or strangely, to please let me know so I could make sure they understood. I then asked them each to introduce themselves (all 35ish of them) ages 12-16 (all in the same class, since they each start school when they can afford to, not by any mandatory age requirement). Then, I worked my way through their book doing most of the exercises out loud, explaining some things, asking them to read passages to the class, do role-play examples for the class, do one written exercise in their official exercise books (I have no idea if that was kosher, but I figured it would be helpful for them to have something written down from the whole lesson for their real teacher). We played “Molly says…” per suggestion of the book, in order to work with the modal auxiliary verbs that I was teaching (can, may, need to, must). So…”Molly says you must put your hands on your head.” They liked that a lot. Then, I even gave them a homework assignment (as prescribed by the book) to write a two-paragraph story from their family or their village, to practice story-planning and writing (chronologically, especially). We read a poem from the book (many of them had never heard of “poetry” before, which I had an interesting time explaining, but I think I did okay), and I told them that I would bring in an easier and simpler poem for them to work with next time I came in. I also gave them an example for their homework assignment about a Christmas ritual we have decorating the Christmas tree (they all celebrate Christmas, and I figured this was a chance to sort of give them a break and literally tell them a story that they’d be interested in, and sure enough, they all fell completely silent and paid complete attention as I explained this strange American Christmas experience—during which I tried to pay careful attention not to talk about presents as I talked to 35 underprivileged African kids…difficult). One girl raised her hand and asked if I could bring in an American Christmas song, and I told her that if they were good and got all their work done, I would bring them an American Christmas song to listen to and we could play another game like “Molly says”, to which I got a round of applause and some excited squeals. In the last few minutes of the class, I panicked that they hadn’t learned what they literally needed to learn for their regular teacher (still with no guidance about what exactly that would be), so I asked the class if they could raise their hands and tell me something that they learned today. One girl’s hand shot right up and she said, “We learned about modal auxiliary verbs.” Hooray!!! They then gave a list of the ones we talked about, followed by examples and the reasoning why you would use each one (formal, informal, necessary, not as necessary, etc.) It was honestly magical. I actually taught them something (or at least most of them). All in all, they were a great class. The headmaster prides himself on a well-disciplined student body (caning is still widely practiced in Ghana and here in particular, although I haven’t seen in myself), so everything is definitely “Yes, Madame,” and “No, Madame,” and everyone stands up when they speak, all in uniforms. Despite the uniforms, I thought of something my Globalization teacher said, and it’s true: you can still tell the really poor students from the wealthier ones by their shoes. I was supposed to teach for an hour, and ended up teaching the whole period until their next break, which was about 2 hours. It went by quickly for me, and the timing was actually perfect for the speed at which I went through the lesson, which I was grateful for. But, I am still completely clueless about what my real role is here. I was hoping to talk with the headmaster today about if I need to give tests, if I could MEET their regular teacher, how I should space out the lessons or how much I should get through in a single session (especially considering I went through an entire lesson in presumably the amount of time it took them to get through the first page and a half). I’m thrilled, intimidated, exhilarated, terrified, and…yeah that’s about it. I’ll be sure to update you all on my next lesson, probably on Friday. Eek!

After class (haha…the one that I taught), I went to lunch with Jasmine on our way home, which was really nice. I’ve never really been in a social situation with her before, and I’ve been intimidated by her intense knowledge of the country because of her previous long-term work experience here. She’s only a junior like me, but she took 5 months somehow and worked with an NGO, and then came back a second time before this for a few weeks to visit and work again. Pretty incredible, but this is all old news for her now. We ended up having a great conversation over lunch, and we learned a lot about each other and she’s really such a nice, smart, funny person. We have a lot in common about how we perceive things, which was interesting. I’m excited to continue this work with her, even if we are in different classrooms. Our walks will make for a learning experience by itself.

I got back to Solomon’s with just enough time to change and go over to the academic center. I had a phone conference at 3pm with Christa (the Associate Director of NYU in Ghana) in person with me, and the Director and other board member of the Greening Youth Foundation (as I explained in the last post). The GYF people were wonderful, and the conversation was what I expected it to be for the most part: basically feeling out the options for the initiatives that I had outlined in the proposal I sent them, along with their ideas for implementing things locally. I left it feeling really good about what we wanted to do, but we still need to target a specific school in which to start. I could potentially still use the school I am working in, but I need to do research (as I would have liked to do today) about the NGO that they are supposedly already working with, and potentially contact them to form an alliance in the area regarding this issue. It’s all very exciting, even though everything with GYF will be a baby step. Ideally, I want to help set up programming at a specific school(s) that can stand alone, run by the local students (an environmentalist club, basically), that could then be followed up by students coming through NYU in Ghana this coming spring. Again, I’ll keep you all posted as this progress is (hopefully) made.

Then, I was off to dance class. I told my friend and classmate Camilla on the way over, “It’s not a good sign when my body feels before dance class the way it is supposed to feel after dance class.” This proved to be a very accurate statement. I hadn’t acknowledged that standing for about 3 straight hours, combined with half hour walking commutes both ways from the school, without an adequate chance to rest, all of this was probably not the best idea before “Traditional African Music and Dance.” I was fine at first, but we learned a new move that included a jump/lunge with some steps back, repeated indefinitely. I did the first move and I thought my quads were ripping into pieces. I pushed through the class, but I was pretty much shaking by the end, and I decided to pass on the movie night last night in favor of laying down. Like I said, unintentional physical exhaustion worked against me this morning, but I feel better now. I finally got a chance to chat with Eliza for about an hour last night, which was so great. I miss her a lot. I miss everyone, but I miss Lizzie a LOT. I told her to come visit and I’d take her to the Accra Mall. It’d be great. She said she’s on her way. ☺ Regardless of our sarcasm, it was really wonderful to talk with her, even if it was all on the computer. Tomorrow night, I have another phone date with my family, so that’ll be nice. I wanted to catch up my blogging before then so they can ask more specific questions based on the stories I’ve already shared. I’ve found that makes things easier and more interesting, instead of, “So, how is Africa?” to which I get overwhelmed and shut down to, “It’s great...yup.” So yet another reason why blogging is so helpful (when I have electricity).

I think that is QUITE enough for now. I admire those of you who get through this laborious post in one try. I don’t blame you if you needed to go lay down for a bit in the middle. Anyway, eat some chocolate cake for me, and I’ll write again soon!

Love,
Molly

Rise 'n Shine

This weekend was fantastic.

I've been resisting blogging about it, even though I wanted to write out everything that I got to do. Yet again, so much in a short amount of time makes for a laborious post (both for me writing and you reading). But enjoyable! Let's see.

First things first: I was up at 5:30am on Saturday. I think that was the earliest time I had set my alarm for since high school (and actually gotten up). I had already showered and packed my (fancy-shmancy) North Face backpack for the overnight to Cape Coast the night before, but I wanted enough time to do my full morning routine before getting onto a bus for 3 hours. My "morning routine" has developed into a yoga salute to the sun, stretching, 30 forward crunches, 30 side crunches, 10 leg lifts, 100 bicycles (laying on my back, legs cycling in the air) 10 push-ups, more stretching, and a short meditation. I have been doing this every morning for 2 weeks. This is certainly not to brag, but more to give you an idea why I needed an extra half an hour in my morning (even if that means 5:30-6:00am), especially before sitting on a bus for hours. So I was up and at 'em bright and early, and on the bus right around 6:15am. I felt too awake to sleep on the bus (I sat next to Meghan, but I still have a hard time falling asleep in public places, especially public moving places), so I listened to my iPod and journaled to Eliza and Nick for almost the whole ride, often staring out the window at the Africa going by. We got to Cape Coast a little late and had to report directly to the breakfast buffet before it closed (an easy command to obey). I had a delicious and filling breakfast (an omelette, pinapple, fresh orange juice, and a croissant) and discovered that the roommate I was assigned (we were mixed up between the two dorms to encourage more "getting to know you" time) had gotten sick and didn't come on the trip, so I basically had a default single. I was a little disappointed since I liked the girl I was set to room with, but who am I to complain about a single at Coconut Grove Resort for a night? Then we were off to the Elmina Slave Castle, about ten minutes drive on the bus from the hotel.

It was very surreal at the castle. I don't know how exactly to blog about it, really. We got a full tour by one of the castle guides, who took us into the women's and men's slave dungeons, the governor's quarters, the two small punishment cells, the kitchen, the church, and through "the door of no return," which was the final door the slaves walked through to get onto the slave ships. Although they are working to preserve the castle, it obviously has some wear and tear after 200 years of weather and...well...use. Many people in my group were moved to tears during the tour, and I understand why. We learn about the Transatlantic Slave Trade in history classes, and I intellectually know what happened and how horrendous it was, but to be there in the very rooms that these people were imprisoned and "exported" from...it was difficult to even fathom. I kept trying to take the place where I was standing and superimpose what would have been there 200 years ago, and I just couldn't do it. The stench in the female dungeons, even centuries later, is just a little indication of how wretched the conditions were in this place. It was particularly jarring to walk into the Dutch church, a room located directly over the female slave dungeon, and fathom how these people could sit up there and pray. I just couldn't believe it. I didn't take many pictures in the castle itself. Not only out of reverence (we were allowed to), but also because I would just be taking pictures of empty rooms and cells. It wouldn't be for some sort of attractive picture, but for documentation, and I decided I would rather just be there and experience it than try to prove I did.

Next, we drove out to Kakum National Park with a short break on the bus for everyone to diffuse their emotions a little. By the time we got to the park, everyone was in higher spirits and ready to hike (for the most part). It started raining, so I disappointedly left my camera on the bus. It ended up clearing up into beautiful sunshine by the time we got to the top of our hike, but I was glad I hadn't brought my camera. Enough of my friends had brought theirs that I was able to get some pictures of me on the canopy walk, without having to panic about handling one myself. Before we went up, one of the guides informed us that one of the bridges had been knocked down in the last storm (really reassuring) and they were still in the process of fixing it. Therefore, we could go on either side of the canopy walk, getting a few bridges out, but could not do the whole thing in one straight go. The upshot to this was that Christa, our program director, negotiated (strong-armed) the park into giving us another canopy walk experience for free if we came back ourselves once the bridge was fixed. (Go Christa!) I'm definitely planning on going back, but this trip was more than incredible even with one bridge down. It took a lot longer, since we had to wait in line, walk out, walk BACK (which you wouldn't have to do if the bridge was complete) and then let another part of the group go. A bunch of people went back to the bus after doing the first two bridges, but a few of us waited to go on the other half, and I am SO glad I did. It took a while, but the second half of the bridges went farther out into the canopy and with the nicer weather, you could see into the whole forest, listening to birds and animals around you. I felt like I was in a Planet Earth episode (in a way, I was) and it was another truly African experience. When we had all completed the walk, we made our way down the hillside back to the bus.

We stopped briefly at a restaurant on our way back to the resort. It was a restaurant/bar built on stilts over a crocodile pond (see the warning sign in my Flickr photos) and the NYU program bought us all one soda since we are "such a great group." Then we were back to the resort to clean up a little, take a break, and meet for a buffet dinner at 7:30pm. I took a quick shower to, as Dad says, "blow the stink off me," after a day of hiking and walking under both the hot African sun and rain. I met up with my friends Ashley and Kara at the bar down by the beach and we each had a drink and decompressed a little about everything we had been through during the day. Dinner was delicious, accompanied by a long and winding talk about Judaism with our friend Matt who is no longer a practicing Jew, but lived in Israel for a year and defines himself as "culturally Jewish." Ashley claimed to know nothing about the Jewish faith, and took this as an opportunity to ask questions, which proved for an interesting dinner conversation. Afterwards, we sampled palm wine (an acquired taste...) and my table veered our conversation into Ghanaian dating and the expectations of the genders (as explained and discussed by Naa, one of my wonderful CRAs). The resort started a bonfire on the beach, and we all segued into bonfire chats and walking along the beach (me drawing more Infinity Angels) and dipping our feet in the ocean (it's a lot warmer than in Maine). I stayed up talking until about midnight with various groups of people, and finally went to bed, setting both my intention and my alarm for 4:30am in order to see the sun rise. I feel like some higher power rewarded my diligence with my morning routine by getting me the single so I could wake up THAT early to do my routine AND see the sunrise (an ungodly hour even EARLIER than I ever set my alarm for in high school). I almost skipped out on the sunrise when my alarm blared at me at 4:30, but I was determined not to miss this opportunity, and made my way cautiously onto the beach by 5am in the pitch black morning. I took my camera and my phone with me, consciously wondering if this was stupid of me to walk out onto the beach by myself at this hour, playing through my mind how Christa would have to artfully explain my poor decision to future NYU groups and caution them against sunrises forever more. To be safe, I stayed right by where the bonfire had been the night before, where a large streetlight hung over the beach to illuminate this one area, probably so people could do exactly what I had set out to do. I plopped down and meditated for a few minutes, enjoying how quiet and temperate it was, the ocean right in front of me and tiny lamped fishing boats out all along the horizon. A man walked by and I seized up at first, only to get a "Good morning" and a smile as he walked by. (Sometimes I wonder if I am neglecting the inherent African friendliness by assuming the worst, but I always compare whatever I am doing to if I would do the same thing in the U.S., and specifically NYC. This early morning isolation would have warranted a raised awareness no matter where I was, but I was relieved to find be alone for the next 15 minutes or so.) I called Nick around 5:15am to wish him a happy 21st birthday. He was just getting in from the bar with our friends Bill, Katie, and Angela, and it was still so funny to think that he was ending his night when I was beginning mine (even though he was probably awake for the full next day celebrating). I was so happy he picked up. He didn't recognize my voice/certainly didn't expect it, so when I said, "It's me!" I got a, "'Me' who?" in response. When he finally realized that it was ME, we squealed for about a minute and got to have a brief conversation about his night and my wishes for a happy day to come. I hadn't spoken with him on the phone since I got here, so it was great just to hear his voice, and I wished I got a chance to talk to Bill and Katie, but I don't know what I would have said, except "Hi! I'm in Africa calling you! Have a great night!" (So Bill and Katie, consider it said.) We got off the phone just as my friend Sophie joined me on the beach (to my relief). Sophie is one of those people who is content to just sit on the beach and not talk, which was nice. We chatted about a few things as we waited for the sun to make an appearance, and then we both took out our cameras as the sky started to brighten. We both got our photoshoots in, including a few local people who were walking by on their way to the market. It was so beautiful. I am really proud of the pictures I took (also on Flickr) but there is no way that they can compare to just how beautiful it was. I realized that I have only seen about 3 sunrises in my life, if that, and I decided that I want to do that more often. (Although, it's a little more difficult to view in Accra.) I was so beat from my 4 hours of sleep that I decided to stay at the resort for the day instead of venturing into town (a decision that many other people also made). Since I'm planning on going back to do the canopy walk again, I assume that I will get a chance to explore on my own if I do make the time. And as James said, weekends are so important. If I wanted to lay out on a beach (for the first time since I've been here) then I should do it. (James is a smart boy.) So I spent my afternoon laying by the pool and walking the beach, collecting shells and talking with Ashley and a few others. Pretty unbelievable.

After lunch, we were back on the bus and on our way back to Accra. Despite my intense fatigue, I nodded off (literally) for only about 15 minutes before doing some crossword puzzles and journaling some more. I had a 3-page paper due on Monday that I had not begun writing, but my mind was having a difficult time discerning the difference between vacation and school, all within a 48-hour period of time. I fell asleep around 10pm on Sunday night and still managed to finish my paper with time to spare between classes on Monday (score!). Overall, the day didn't turn out to be nearly as difficult as I had anticipated with my lack of sleep, and I would say that by today (with a nice 10 hours of sleep last night) I am mostly caught up. All in all, it was worth it.

Love,
Molly

Busy Weekend

I need to comment on this past weekend before it gets away from me. I did a lot, actually, despite the fact that this was another weekend to fend for ourselves and not an excursion. Let me start from the top.

Okay so I honestly can't remember what I did on Friday and Saturday. There was a social mixer involved, hosted by NYU at my house. We had about 30 students visit from University of Ghana, Ashesi, and a local film school (the name escapes me). It was nice to meet more local students, but I found myself suffering from what I will affectionately refer to as "Dad's Cocktail Party Syndrome:" an awful affliction of not being able to understand what people are saying at loud social functions where the purpose of the function is, in fact, to mingle. I suffered from many of the classic symptoms, in addition to the new problem of African accents. I had a really interesting conversation with a boy from film school about U.S., Ghanaian, and international politics. I liked having something substantial to talk about, instead of the usual introductions, "What are you studying?" and "Do you like it?" which can get pretty generic and uninteresting. Later in the night, around 11pm or so, I escaped to my room (the advantage of hosting the party at our house) just as the male students were starting to turn the mixer into a "bro-party" (it doesn't matter what country you're in...There Will Be Bros). So I went to bed and listened as the party died down outside my window.

Saturday night, my friends Vivian, Ashley, Meghan and I all went exploring down the end of our larger neighborhood for a restaurant we had heard of called "Melting Moments," a small more Western style cafe/bistro supposedly with sandwiches, wraps, and even--dare I say?--coffee. After a winding walk, we discovered said restaurant, and it was exactly as it had been described. Luckily at 8pm-ish it was still open, and the four of us sat down for a delicious (and inexpensive!) dinner. I had a chicken wrap, with a small side of French fries, and a petite salad, all for 3.5 cedis (a bargain). They also had smoothies, which were the same price as my meal, but delicious with strawberries, bananas, and some other fruits. After dinner, we meandered back to Solomon's and watched "The Notebook" and drank wine out of mugs (we need to invest in some cheap wine glasses!). It was a delightful and relaxing evening of really good food and a chick flick, all meanwhile in Africa.

I was up early on Sunday morning (aka 6:45am) to get ready for CHURCH with a few other students. We were going with Julia, one of our two wonderful CRAs from Solomon's, and the church was the Legon Interdenominational Church on the University of Ghana campus. I looked like a nice little while Puritan with my peach plaid sundress and white close-toed sandals. We negotiated two taxis to take us there, and on the way Julia leans back to inform us, "By the way, I didn't tell you, the first Sunday of every month is a little more special as a celebration with music and dancing, and the first Sunday of September--[today]--is our Thanksgiving festival, so there will be a lot of dancing in the aisles and giving thanks...more than our regular service." So basically I had picked both the best and probably most intimidating day to traipse into her church. Also, I am told that I have to introduce myself to the congregation as a newcomer, and oh...by the by...we'll be getting there just in time to be part of the BIBLE STUDY GROUPS. I'm sorry, what? I panicked a little, as I had signed on to come as more of a cultural study and time for thoughtful reflection. It's been a little while (slash, my whole life) since I brushed up on THE Good Book. When we got to the church (a beautiful, large building with opened doors making up the walls of the three non-altar sides of the building to let the breeze in) Julia encouraged us to separate into various small groups huddled around, discussing a part of the Bible and its meaning. I seized up a little, but proceeded to a welcoming group right up front along with Meghan and my friend Dana. We sat down and were briefed a little by the older gentleman leading the group about what they had been discussing. They were discussing the 10 Commandments, and what God had meant by them: more as guides? as demands? as promises that we were meant to keep? etc. Meghan fielded their first question of us--something about she loves her father in the same way (but caught herself quickly and qualified "though not to the same extent!") as she loves God, and she tries to model her love in that way. One point for the Americans (and actually, Canadians, as Dana is from Canada). Next, they asked what we thought about the difference between loving God and fearing God, and how that translates for us in a familial sense (for example, "You are here, very far away from home, and out of the immediate watch and care of your fathers. You can sort of do whatever you want. Do you guide yourself with your love of your father in mind? Or fear?") I jumped on this question, (since it wasn't quite as God-heavy) and responded, "I don't fear my father, as much as I would fear losing his love. So I do not do anything I want. Instead, my guidance is with his love in mind, and the fear of losing that love if I were to do something of which he would disapprove." That was a 3-point shot, as the woman also leading the group nodded, smiled, and mentioned that they hadn't had that answer yet! (Phew!) I have to qualify the fact that they were all very very nice and welcoming, and THEY weren't intimidating, as much as the book they were holding in their hands and my lack of familiarity. After Bible study, we moved into the rows of chairs that made up the pews, and the service started. It was really fascinating. Imagine, if you can, a Christian church in which everyone actually sings. There was a lot of singing, which was probably one of my favorite parts. I got a little hung up when the giant projector screen came down at the front of the church, onto which the words and translations to all the songs were projected. I found myself seizing up again at phrases like, "Thank you for the Cross, O Lord," and "You are more than I can imagine, Jehovah." I tried to close my eyes and just listen to the voices, which were much more inspiring to my personal faith or spirituality. I tried to separate my rejection of some of their specific beliefs and my acceptance and enthusiasm for their positive thoughts and community. I think I've decided, especially after this experience, that I cannot be a Christian. I believe that Jesus lived on this earth and was an inspiration to many many people, but I just can't get the "Son of God" part into my own beliefs. However, I would not consider myself an Atheist. There was something very powerful about the positive thoughts of this congregation of people, and as the service went on, I found myself embracing this sense of community and the idea of something bigger that we were all part of, with particular awareness of it in this building with everyone pointing their thoughts towards that awareness. I was struck by the smiles on the people around me, and although this was not an extremist Evangelical church, many people were opening their arms and hands to the Lord, or in my opinion, the Universe in some sense. Throughout this special service, I made many wonderful little observations. First of all, there were drums, a keyboard, a guitar, and other percussion (which kept reminding me how much Eliza would prefer this church to anything we've been to). For Thanksgiving, the pastor opened up the floor to "Anyone who wants to give thanks to the Lord in short and thoughtful sentences." Two of the choir members ran around the church, giving the microphone to various members who wanted to say their piece. I was struck by the people who would start singing to begin their thanks, and the choir, the keyboard, and the rest of the congregation would follow their lead and sing the hymn or song that they had started. I couldn't imagine anyone in the churches that I have been to (which, granted, have been few) actually WANTING to participate in such a public way. I feel like my church experience has always been so lecture-oriented (pardon me, sermon-oriented) that most church members would be caught quite off-guard to actually SAY something in church. Later in the service, they presented three babies and their parents who had recently been born and were basically being blessed and introduced to the congregation (ADORABLE). There was also a conga line of sorts for the entire congregation to dance down their donations. (They announced that the last week's donations had totaled about $3,000. Yes...in one service. Julia qualified in the cab home that many of the church members were middle class professionals who could afford to give. My own observation was that this church fostered such a sense of real community that everyone WANTED to give...none of that Catholic guilt stuff.) Those were my major observations, in addition to the fact that women wear the coolest traditional clothing to church. I was making mental notes of the various styles and patterns that were worn, all beautiful with head wraps and scarf-like pieces of fabric attached. A lot more interesting than the usual black and brown tones of my religious youth.

I also admit that I was much more of a passive observer this time around. Even with the words up on a projector and everyone smiling around me, I found myself just wanting to watch, listen, and take it all in. Along with my new specific practice of doing nothing or very little, I wanted to practice positive contemplation, and took this outing as sort of an opportunity for that (in a building with about 300 or so other intentioned souls). I think I might actually go back regularly. We'll see.

That afternoon, a very tired me trudged downstairs to the kitchen for a cooking lesson with our other CRA, Naa. Let me just preface this part by saying that Naa is a VERY good Ghanaian cook. On this afternoon, Naa had compiled a menu of about 3 dinner's worth of food, so I spent the next 5 hours on my feet in our kitchen, learning how to make traditional Ghanaian dishes with 4 other NYU students (my friend, James, being one of them). We started by making two drinks: pineapple coconut juice, and sobolo (a delicious bissap ginger drink, made with the juice of hibiscus flowers, ginger, and water). Then we worked on ampesi (yam and plantain) and garden egg stew, yam friquettes (a personal favorite), soy khebabs, boiled plantains, fish stew, and some plain fried yams. Oh. My. God. So. Delicious. I kept thinking about how my dad would enjoy most of what we were making, Lizzie might humor me, and Mom wouldn't touch most of this food with a 10-foot pole. I paid particular attention to the yam friquettes, which are basically little fried clumps of shredded yams, onions, green and red peppers, all held together by fresh eggs with a dash of curry powder, chili powder, and khebob spices. Definitely one of my favorite parts of the whole meal, and something even Mom would enjoy (just think potatoes, Mom...seriously). I could probably make some of the dishes again, but I'll need to practice before I come home and freak you all out with BAD versions Ghanaian food. So much oil, too. James and I were musing on the 55-year life expectancy in the country and wondering if that had anything to do with it.

Another highlight of my life in Ghana is that I went to Kaneshi market on Friday and purchased (aka overpaid for) a lot of beautiful fabric to have made into clothing. Last night, Marjorie, the seamstress we have been working with, came over to Solomon's to bring some of the things she's made so far, some alterations, and to take new orders. I was only going to have her make one or two things to start, but with all my fabric sitting right there, I caved and gave her my order for two dresses, a pair of drawstring pants, and a hoody (like the rest of my house has had made). I am SO EXCITED. I will send pictures of my new clothes when I get them back, probably sometime next week. I cannot wait. The fabric I bought is beautiful pink, purple, and blue-y green. GAH! I'm so excited.

Other than that, the days go by per usual here in Africa! I have continued listening to my jazz mix (currently Gladys Knight is telling me, "Empty pockets don't ever make the grade," some good advice after my fabric spree). I had another phone date with my family last night, and Eliza got the part of Cindy Loo Who in this fall's MHS drama "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" which I am SO sad to be missing, but SO excited for her! I cannot wait to see her costumes and hair, especially. How cool? This weekend we are going to Cape Coast for an overnight excursion there (another Flickr album, I'm sure), so you'll probably hear from me next when I'm back from there. I hope everyone is well, and keep in touch!

Love,
Molly

Simulating Starbucks

Over the last few days, I've been particularly keen on simulating a Starbucks atmosphere in my room. To clarify, I do not actually mean the multi-billion dollar coffee company. While I do miss my mocha frappachinos, Godiva hot chocolates, and even regular old house blend (I've found that Ghana isn't into brewed coffee, so the die-hards are trying to stomach the instant kind and I'm just doing without) I am actually referring to my Milford kitchen: our little solarium, with a lamp or two with beaded shades, a view of the many matching buildings in our backyard, a small stereo system, and two comfortable upholstered chairs, just waiting for any combination of McCoys (or Peciaro) to sit in them. Although I've been known to dismiss the notion of "coming home" to my Milford house (all that matters is my little family, etc.), I can never truly replace the comfort and happiness I find sitting in that nook/room/area/place in our house. That is where our Christmas tree is set up, where Grandpa used to lay his leg over the arm of the chair, where I sat calling family and friends when I got my NYU acceptance letter, where Eliza sat and cried when she broke her arm (sprained it? fractured it? did something silly and painful and time-consuming). Over the past three days, I have craved the feeling of this "Starbucks," and I have been improvising various versions of it here in Accra. On Sunday, it was my friend James' balcony at the other dorm, on which we posted ourselves (James, Meghan, myself, and a few passing housemates) and read, listened to jazz, and talked intermittently about nothings and somethings. Over the past two days, I have created my own little nook on my bottom bunk bed, which I have affectionately dubbed "the cave." I've compiled yet another playlist of calming, Starbucks-worthy jazz and standard songs, which has been playing nonstop (even now) from my laptop while I intently plow through "Eat Pray Love." (Thanks for letting me borrow it, Aunt Billie!) Occasionally, I will go to class, read some homework assignments, play table tennis, and eat, but otherwise I have enjoyed my own little pocket of nothings and somethings, for the first time in a long time. My current favorite on the "Jazz" playlist is not very jazzy at all. It's the "Bridges of Madison County" soundtrack--a McCoy kitchen favorite--and I can't tell yet whether Meghan is learning to love it or hate it. (I don't see how anyone could hate it, unless you're of the "Metallica or Bust" breed.) I've also got some John Coltrane, Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, and Ella Fitzgerald, to name a few. I know I'm in Africa, and I need to be taking advantage of everything around me. That's why I'm here. But after our big excursion on Saturday, I admit I've gone into a little hermit phase. I don't mind admitting it, either, considering I couldn't even tell you the last time I read a book for pleasure. I'm not feeling melancholy or homesick. Instead, the whole setup has been pretty satisfying, rejuvenating me for an upcoming weekend of outings and exploration. Meanwhile, my friends in NYC have begun classes and are already sending out Facebook invites for auditions (their first real productions as directors and creators! eek!), Eliza has begun auditions for the fall drama (I think), and the Oarweed is still going strong (my parents forwarded their hellos! so hello back!). As much as I want to explore and experience and basically run myself ragged with every sight, sound, and food in the country of Ghana, there is something sublime about not doing anything at all. In fact, that in and of itself is doing something great, indeed. I'm sure I'm being influenced by "Eat Pray Love," since I'm still only on her section in Italy on pleasure (those who have read the book know how enticing it is, and why I became seriously jealous of my friend Sasha, abroad this semester in Florence!). But what a wonderful existence I have right now. I am a very lucky girl. I mean, woman? Hm. Weird.

I'm going to read some more and go to sleep. More soon about what's actually going on around me. I have no class tomorrow, so I suppose I will pry myself out of the cave to catch you up. I hope everyone is well and not too busy to enjoy your own Starbucks, whatever they may be.

Love,
Molly

It's been...one week since you looked at me.

Hello blog,

It's been almost a whole week without an update, which makes it even harder to try and recap everything that's happened. The Sparknotes/randomly remembered version is as follows:

I survived my first week of classes, which went very well (including my African Dance class, during which I out-danced a local student, who couldn't tell her right from her left. Haha!) I decided to drop my Twi language course (partly because it's just difficult, partly because my heart isn't in it to make the effort, partly because it's eating into my available elective credit, partly because for 2 credits the teacher wanted to meet more than once a week, and partly because I really don't need it in order to get around. It would just be nice to know what people are saying about me when I'm walking by.) I wish I could just automatically know how to speak the language instead of having to actually study it. Oh well.

I had my first phone date with my family, which was great. It was nice to hear their voices (even though my dad bailed on me to go to an airplane club meeting....). I'm really just kidding. I got to talk to him briefly on Eliza's birthday, and I know that he would've been there if he could have been. Next time, Dad! Probably sometime this week. I got to hear about Lizzie's first day of school, and Mom and Liz both got a recap of things that I've posted about and things that I haven't (Mom asked some more stomach questions with which I won't bore/gross you out.) It made me a little sad, in actually talking to them, that I'd have to do that for another 4 months before I could talk to them in person. But again, I'm sure by that point these 4 months will have felt like a minute and a half.

I'm just starting to come off the vacation feeling of everything and settle into the fact that I really do live here now. I know intellectually that I'm going to be here for quite some time, but I have sort of a mask over that as I subconsciously try to compare this experience with anything remotely like it, like visiting Key West or Bermuda. I didn't know what to do with myself a few times this week when I didn't have class, my homework reading wasn't copied and available yet, and I didn't know where exactly to explore. Some of my housemates went to a really great beach about an hour outside of the city. I was invited both times they went, but I had class awkwardly in the middle of the afternoon, during prime beach time. The pictures look beautiful, and I can't wait to go sometime this week.

My schedule changed, so now it is as follows:

Monday: 9am-12pm Globalization and the Modern World
3:30-6:30pm Global Connections: Accra
Tuesday: 5-6:30pm Dance
Wednesday: NOTHING
Thursday: 11am-2pm African Popular Music
5-6:30pm Dance
Friday: NOTHING

I panicked a little on Wednesday because I had mixed up the times of the art class I wanted to take, and now it interferes with my popular music class. I then realized that I had Wednesday off, and I spent 3 hours at the academic center (the duration of the class I thought I was going to) figuring out my schedule not only for this semester, but also for the rest of my college career. I am now only taking 14 credits this semester (there's nothing else I'm interested in that I want to work into my schedule that doesn't clash with my first choice classes), and I needed to make sure that taking 14 credits here wouldn't jeopardize my future semesters. As it works out, I can actually take 14 credits now, and still be better off when I get back to NYC that I'll never have to take more than a normal 16 credit semester on campus. Because I'm taking almost all humanities and no advanced studio/elective credit (except for 2 credits of elective dance), I'm therefore saving my studio/elective credit for when I get back. I could even take one more 14 credit semester if I wanted to, so I'm mentally saving that for spring semester, senior year (when I'll hopefully be working on a final senior project and I won't feel like doing much else). How great is that? Once I deciphered my degree progress and what requirements I still need to fulfill, I then spent the second half of that 3 hours searching out on-campus NYU courses online to see what might potentially be available in the spring (or maybe even for my senior year). I could only base my investigation on what they are offering this fall, so some things might change, but most courses are staples in the NYU curriculum. AND since I got my two sciences out of the way last year, the humanities department is my oyster and I can come back to take classes I'm actually interested in. Hooray! This whole process also got me a little freaked out that I can basically look at the next three semesters and see graduation at the end of them. WEIRD. This year is going to go by in a flash, and then I have only one year left before.....the real world. AH! Enough about that. Back to Africa.

Yesterday I had my most stereotypical African day yet, and I loved every minute of it. We got up early (on the bus at about 6:45am) and drove about an hour and a half east outside of the city to the Volta Region. We visited a village called Torgome, where we learned about the village, saw Kente cloth weaving, pottery, and another group went out on the fishing boats (skinny canoes that they had to sign a waver to go on, as though going in a canoe was the most dangerous part about being in Africa already). We went through a traditional naming ceremony (yes, all 41 of us), where the locals presented us each with a beaded bracelet and a bowl with our full name on it (our American name, plus the tribal name given to us). Mine is Ama Akorfa. The Ama is because I was born on a Saturday, and Akorfa means "comfort." At first, they said "wisdom," and then they corrected themselves....so I guess I just have comfort in the fact that I don't have wisdom. The elderly man who gave me my bowl said (while laughing and smiling) that if he dies, I have to come back and take his grandchildren to America. Haha. I laughed and said thank you for the bowl.

We also dedicated a bunch of school supplies and clothes and things to the village, in addition to a cash donation by NYU, which was sort of the trade for letting us come and visit them. It was strange to look at these groups and groups of children that I had bought notebooks for...and there were just so many of them! I also had to take a mental step back and look at myself in this village, walking hand in hand with these kids past mud huts and chickens and goats. It felt a little like being at Plymouth Plantation or something, except this is their real lives in 2008. It's just how they live. And here we were, a bus-load of American students just traipsing through like Santa Claus. It was a strange experience, but they were all so excited for us to be there that it made it feel less awkward or embarrassing, and more interesting to help them and see how life is there. Many of the adults were interested in showing us around, too. One man, in particular, because sort of an unofficial tour guide. He could speak English pretty well, so he could translate what some of the artisans were saying to explain the Kente weaving and pottery and things. It was surreal. Definitely take a look at my Flickr page, because I got some unbelievable photographs of the day.

Then we said goodbye, ate on the bus, and drove about half an hour to Shai Hills, which is sort of a large African park/nature and wildlife reserve. We took an hour hike through tall grass (on a path), and then up a hill to a cave where the Shai tribe had a small living area and basically a palace for the king. It's all rocks, so not much to look at inside without the king there, himself, but it was fascinating to look at the defense wall they had built, and the vines they would climb up to see out onto the plains. Mom, you would have FREAKED, because if we had gone around a corner of the cave, supposedly there were hundreds of bats. You could hear them from where we were (and smell them, unfortunately), but luckily I didn't have any actual contact. People kept using flash photography, and I had this awful nightmarish image of a huge flock (?) of bats flying out from around the corner and at my face. Luckily, it didn't happen, or else this would be a very different blog right now. We saw antelope from far away on our walk in, and baboons up on a rock outcropping and in some trees near the cave, that was fun as my first real wildlife experience in Africa. Then we hiked the hour back to the bus and drove home. My hiking sandals came in particularly handy, except that they were COVERED in mud (as were my feet) by the time I got back to the bus. And I'm just ignoring the fact that I had walked in a bat cave. You figure it out.

I took the most amazing photographs, which even now don't completely capture how magnificent it was there. It wasn't even heralded as this beautiful reserve, or some sort of national must-see, but it was just so wonderful to get outside of civilization, and the dirt and noise and traffic of Accra, to this serene, natural, AFRICAN place. It felt like the natural set of The Lion King. The grass really looked liked there should be animals (like lions) in it, which I'm obviously glad there weren't. (It would've been a much more stressful hike.) It also felt like the raptor scene in Jurassic Park (also kind of a scary image, but fascinating to be standing in a real version of it...minus the raptors). I was telling Meghan, as we lagged behind the group a little to enjoy what we were walking through, how amazing it is to me that hundreds of years ago, the place where we were standing looked mostly like it does now. Tribes were living in the cave we visited, more animals were grazing in the grass we were looking at (and African people were hunting them!). Looking back on the day, I felt like such an alien. Even in the village, the people there (the children especially) are much less used to seeing white people than I am to seeing black people, just in general. So I walk in, unphased at least by the color of their skin, and meanwhile they're stroking my arm like I'm some creature they don't recognize. What a strange thing.

In the meantime, I miss Ben and Jerry's. Not really a segue there, but a bunch of us are really craving good ice cream (especially Fossil Fuel, my favorite!). Every once in a while we all just moan about it, but other than that, I'm not really craving many American things. Last night, a group of us went out and got pizza and beer and french fries, which was heaven after barely eating anything all day. It upset my stomach this morning (which is nothing new), but it was such a culture shock to go from our house, to a village, to a nature reserve, to driving through Accra, to our house, to a restaurant where I ate all that. Even though there are people that are much less well off than I am (who I see on a day-to-day basis), I'm not going to pretend that I'm poor or try to give all my things away. For example, the people in the village weren't starving. They needed school supplies, which we were able to help supply. They don't have sophisticated health care, they could use more teachers, etc., but we could only give so much, and feeling guilty doesn't help anyone. Some people make fun of our program for not giving us a real African experience, but I feel very lucky (even here IN Ghana) to get to come home to a clean house with water and electricity, even A/C. And I can't take all those kids home with me.

Anyway, I unintentionally got kind of intense with this post, but this blog turns out to be just as much for me as it is for you guys. I've tried to journal for myself, but I've found that more of my real thoughts and reactions come out when I'm writing to other people. So bear with me as I'm settling in and figuring things out. It's going to be a very interesting semester.

Love from Africa, per usual,
Molly