A "How To" on Having the Best Day Ever

This might have been one of the most awesome days I have ever lived.

I was in my room at about 4 o’clock this afternoon, breezing through a Dirk Pitt story, thinking about how my next adventure in life simply must be scuba diving so I can discover a shipwreck with Dirk when Bob yelled my name.

Oh dear. This can mean a number of things, but luckily I have been staying out of trouble lately, so whatever happened, it wasn’t me.

“There’s a storm moving in!” he says out the side of his mouth as he shuffles by me.

I was so far under the Pacific Ocean with Dirk and caught up in his good looks and heroic feats I didn’t even realize the wind had picked up. Picked up… it was literally picking up things, and I was watching them fly from my safe perch inside.

The laundry!

The girls had done laundry this morning and all of it was still on the lines outside! I burst through the doors holding my breath and trying to do as much as I could with my eyes closed. I was right smack in the middle of a cataclysmic dirt devil. It was thrilling I admit, but it also made me mad, like the kind of made you get when someone shoves you purposefully out of the way or messes with your little brothers. Instantly, this “save the family farm!” mentality took over, and you better believe I got every single piece of laundry off that line before the wind carried to Togo.

The powerful gust slammed the door shut behind me and shoved me forward a little bit, knocking one of my blue socks of the top of my pile. This was pure craziness. Now I really felt like Dirk Pitt- I just went to the depths of the unknown and saved some lives or laundry… whatever. Lives sounds better. I looked at it there on the floor, and reminded it was the luckiest piece of clothing ever manufactured in Asia. For that, I think I will put you on my sweaty foot once more. “After I bathe of course”, I thought as I looked down at myself. I am filthy. I am that dirty little kid whose mother will not let her inside until she hoses of out back. It’s oddly satisfying.

The wind was swirling with a vengeance now. Bob, shirtless with his headlamp turned on, was shuffling all over the house locking this and checking that and switching this off, muttering to himself the whole time. Dr. Jean sat as peacefully as can be on the couch engrossed in a book with her head lamp on.

I stood by the window watching in fascination and awe at this gusty gale, whispering quiet prayers that whatever else was coming of that eerie sky would not hurt the people seeking shelter in round huts with thatch roofs. I felt so vulnerable, not so much for myself but for these people. It would take nothing but a quick snap of Mother Nature’s fingers and their lives, everything they have worked for, could be blown away, flooded out or burned to ashes in seconds. A small girl wrapped in a pink shawl ran down the road out my window as fast as her bare feet could take her home.

With one final swoop of furry the wind ripped through and brought the rain. Angry, pounding, furious rain. I was glued to the window. I have never seen anything like this in all my days, and yet this is the only the beginning of the storms like this I will experience here. The rain fell in an impressive down pour, silencing us all. There were no words. You just shut up and watch.  

The amount of time that past between this and my next movement is lost forever in the sheets of rain. It was letting up and the wind, seeing that the rain had center stage, decided to find another audience. That’s when it hit me… the best idea I have ever had.

Knowing that I am not going to find water any more pure than that falling from the heavens, I smiled ear to ear. I ripped my headband off and pulled the hair tie of the mess on the top of my head and grabbed my soap. I might have shrieked as I ran to the door.

Bob had already beat me to the punch so had to calm myself for a second and wait because this mission was solo one, but once he came inside, I dove out the door.

If we could all take a moment of silence now for the most awe-inspiring moment I had then, it would be most appreciated.

…

Thank you. It was that good. Therapeutic actually. I of course opted for clothing on considering don’t live here alone, but standing under a stream of cold rain water was undoubtedly the most refreshing thing I have ever done. This water felt so good, and I was so very dirty. I smiled the whole time. I ran aournd the yard, hitting all the puddles and came back to stand in the corner of the house where the “shower” was. When Dr. Jean came strolling out 10 minutes later in even less than I had on, there have been few times I have ever laughed so hard from the bottom of my heart as I did then. I gave her a “woo WOO!” and a fist pump. She so needed this, and I was so glad she was partaking in this with me. We were two kids playing outside in the rain. Life gets too stressful for her here and this is exactly what the Doctor ordered.

It was what we all needed. It’s what we all need. This is one of those things I have always wanted to do, but never have, and I was not about to pass this up. Being here, I have lost many of my inhibitions, ones I didn’t even realize I had. If I do that, I might get dirty. Oh I can’t eat that, I won’t taste good. Is this FDA approved? What will I wear and oh dear, we’re going to need some cover up STAT for this zit!!

Now, I enjoy being a girl, usually, and I embrace my femininity and will still because I want to not because I have to.  But this, this was awesome. This is living and I am fully alive.

I stayed outside for as long as it rained, and I know for a fact that all the years college basketball took from me, my rain shower gave back to me.

I feel compelled to give you some “life is short- make the best of it- now go out there and get ‘em” speech with the butt slap, but I will refrain and simply encourage you to pull up your mental list of “things I have always wanted to do, but…” and erase the last word, and do it. It’s good for the ticker.

FYI- It was above 115 degrees this afternoon before the storm and has dropped down to the high 70’s. Such low temperatures I have not experienced since I have been in Ghana. Hallelujah.

Now for the events of the last 48 hours that led up this great moment in history:

Yesterday, as you know was Independence Day, and after church and a STARTLING solo from Sister Cecilia who is at least 320 pounds of BIG MAMA (she’s also married to the skinniest, shortest guy in the churchJ), I headed to a large field in the middle of town for the March Pass. This is the competition all of the kids from preschool to high school participate in every Independence Day, the one the kids at the orphanage were practicing their marching for as well. There was a throng of people lining the expansive field where the school kids were lined militantly off to one side. On the opposite side of the field sat a tent shading all the important townsfolk and the announcers. In the middle of the field, there was a line of drummers waiting to assist the entourage of marchers as soon as the obligatory announcements were completed.

Bob dove off under the tent for the shade a chair, but I don’t feel that entitled. I am above no one and would have much rather take the Nikon to a better vantage point. As I was walking away from the tent, I heard my name and turned to find little Moses and Cosmos! It was good to see them! I have missed them so. They had to find another friend, which was just fine by me because I just wanted to take pictures. A kind young man with a large stick to thwack unruly kids that tried to pass him onto the field insisted I stand next to him. Alright then.

The marching started and the first troop to march by was the first of several groups of the local primary schools. They were just adorable. Miss Ivy’s kids from His Grace Academy were the best, of course, and actually ending up winning their category.

Two of my favorite things about Africa in one place- cute kids and COLOR. Every school has a different color or pattern donned by their students, and I think all shades were represented, even bright sassy pink and lime green. I loved it.

As the judges tallied up their scores, a higher up on the school board name Philip, we’ll call him Big Daddy Phil because it’s so much more fitting, blew me out of my flip flops with the public announcement he was about to give.

I kid you not, this man in a suit grabbed the mike and began raking the young girls over the fire. “Quit having sex, getting pregnant and dropping out of school. These boys don’t love you!” Direct quote and I got the whole thing on video. He even dropped the F bomb. Apparently, in Saboba there is rampant epidemic of early pregnancies for the girls here. There is much to this scandal as it involves teachers exploiting these girls that I will explain later, but just know that it’s not good. This stuff just breaks my heart and hits me deep, so I talked to Jonah about it… good thing he’s head of the PTA! He is gone at a conference until Thursday, so Friday we are meeting with some administrators and teachers to see what we can do or if I can help at all.

All this at the town Independence Day celebration… oofta.

Thankfully, a group of cultural dancers were next on the agenda and entered in Konkomba fashion. This was better than the Damba dance I saw in Damongo. I loved this dance! They were wearing the most peculiar things- horns, strings of shells, colorful fabric and metal rattlers around their shins. It was fantastic. The girls form a circle in the middle and the men dance in a circle surrounding them. This morphed into a dance off or sorts and the last one, and the crowd favorite, was a little boy about 11 who broke out of the circle and shook it like his mama taught him all the way up to the judges table and back. It was absolutely hilarious and people were going crazy. I just happened to get that on film tooJ

I got my picture with a few of them, mostly the girls afterwards and someone set maracas on my head for some reason, which I put up on facebook for you. It was the coolest.

We went back to the house and rested for a while. It was sweltering outside. I had a slight headache, but forgot it the moment Dirk Pitt and I met back up in Honolulu. Dr. Jean knocked on my door early evening to see if I was interested in a walk. Of course! I really enjoy these times with her. Sometimes I even get a word in haha. I learn a lot from her, but anymore, we can talk about personal things and the fiasco at the hospital, and more recently, her latest case of malaria she has come down with, so I ask her things like, “Do you have a breaking point?!”  She is an unbelievable woman.

Once we returned I realize that if I did not keep my head at the same level, it might explode out of my face. Other than that I felt fine, just really tired. I realized that the symptoms Dr. Jean has when she gets malaria are exactly what I was experiencing: mainly exhaustion and horrible headaches. We were just talking about this on our walk. I looked up the symptoms online and I had enough to make me wonder. Well, no need to freak out. I live with a doctor who specializes in tropical diseases and really, everyone here has malaria. It’s Africa’s equivalent of the common cold. Obviously, I am not from here, which puts me at risk for more severe symptoms, but I was not worried. To be honest, I am not really sure why. I think maybe I have gotten to that point living here where I wanted to and just knew God was going to take care of this. Not to say that won’t be tested over and over again for the rest of my life, but I really was quite confidant I would be fine.

Jenny Goodwin, a darling friend from Helena (one of the hot moms) had just sent me a facebook message, so I quickly responded and told her what was going on, NOT to worry because I wasn’t and just to pray for me while I slept because she loves to do things like the for people. I called my brothers so they could do the same and sang myself to sleep. I don’t even know what song it is, but it goes like this:

I believe You’re my Healer

I believe You’re more than enough for me

Jesus, You’re all I need

I am not a super spiritual, religious person nor do I ever want to be. I have a genuine relationship and friendship with a REALLY big God who can do some really awesome stuff, and I had all the peace in the world  that God gives to His kids, and 800 mg of ibuprofen, lulling me to sleep.

I woke up in the morning feelin’ like P Diddy. Just kidding. I felt great and very refreshed. I told Dr. Jean what was going on so she was in the know, and she suggested I check my blood just in case. All my symptoms were gone though and it’s been that way since.

I realize I could have very well never had malaria and just a nasty headache, perhaps a bit of heat exhaustion. I understand that is a perfectly logical explanation. I have no way of knowing, but I do know that regardless of what was really going on, I experienced God’s peace in a very real, quiet way as I fell asleep last night.

Mom and Dad- I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, but it was just better while I was speculating. I am fine now and that’s all that matters right?:)

I realized when I got to the lab today my message of my sudden departure to Damongo did not get relayed, and I got a Lazarus-like welcoming. I felt so bad, but they were making me laugh and so relieved I had not vanished that I had to let it go. I adore these guys. One of the nurses from one of the wards who actually took my picture with the dancers yesterday, gave me the coolest necklace today! It was Fidelis, the super nice, Pete Markuson one. Such a nice guy.

Later this afternoon, Solo and I went downtown so I could meet his wife and daughter. I have been teasing him that I think he’s making them up because I have yet to meet them. His wife Joyce has a salon Solo just finished painting lime green and their five year old daughter Benedita was off of school today for Independence Day. She is just a peach!! We had the best time in her little shop. They are such sweet people, and Solo is just an impressive guy. He’s all that is man and I know he’s one of those who can fix anything, but it’s his tender hearted person that makes him the man that he is.

Joyce does not speak English so Solo had to translate for us, which was quite enjoyable. A friend of hers brought her lunch, and I was invited to partake. Tizit (tee-zit) is something along the lines cream of wheat made from corn but with a more gelatinous texture… something like that anyway. It’s one of the traditional Ghanaian dishes I have not tried yet, and I was thrilled to be sharing it with them. It came in a container that reminded me of my dad’s big gulp gas station mug from 1981 with a small bowl of some bile green concoction. I asked Solo what the heck that stuff was and said some name I could not pronounce then, and still can’t pronounce now. It was some kind of vegetable paste I gathered. Usually, I am with Dr. Jean in these kinds of situations, and she lets me know when it’s safe to take food or drink, but today, I hadn’t the slightest idea.

It wasn’t out of invincibility that I shoved my fingers into the tizit and then the sauce and into my mouth. It was out of good-natured curiosity and friendship. I was enjoying a meal with a new friend in her lime green salon. God gets that.  I actually loved the tizit and really want to try it again. The um “vegetable sauce” I think I’ll pass on next time however.

Other than the gallons of sweat I dripped today, I think that leads us right back to the epic storm and rain SHOWER this afternoon.

Boys- it was soooooo good to talk to you last night. I miss you like crazy and love you more than you’ll ever know.

Jenny- I did just what you said. Thank you so much for being there.

Again, thank you all for your continuing prayer support. I need it.  Good health is a most sacred, yet overlooked gift we have in our country. Keep praying for Dr. Jean and a break through at the hospital. Things are tense. While you are at it, keep praying for opportunities to meet with these young girls here. They need a solid dose of self-esteem.

I hope you enjoy a shower of God’s peace today.

Oh my gosh. I nearly forgot. Mom, I am sorry. I have to do this. This is officially the funniest thing you have ever said. If you don’t have the pleasure of knowing my mom, she is the sweetest, most wonderful lady you will ever meet, and she NEVER says or does anything stupid or misbehaves or tells jokes on purpose.  However, she likes gross things like I do:)

In an email regarding the nasty foot picture…

“I have a terrible confession - I looked at the foot that needs the skin graft and thought "why in the world are they trying to save a foot that is already so black??" Followed by the horribly "duh" moment that the rest of the body is black as well... When I see black around a wound like that I automatically see dead tissue. What can I say:(“

Mom… that’s goodJ