Ghana Drama and Water-rama

I remember the first time I got in trouble in practice in college- like really got into trouble. I don’t even remember what I did but I distinctly remember I would have given anything to pull up the floor boards with my fingernails and crawl underneath.

I felt like that today, except I wasn’t the one getting into trouble.

Last night was a one of the worst for me, and I am sooo very thankful I was able to talk to my parents on the phone last night. I like to think I am a strong and can take care of myself, but that is clearly not the case. I crawled into bed and called home as I was entirely too worked up about this situation. The more I talked about it the more upset I got. Tears. The whole nine yards.  

That’s when I heard the Rat Pack in the corner of my room again.

I can’t do this. I lost it. I was laying in my bed sobbing and my mom put my dad on.

“I’M SO MAD AND NOW THE MOUSE IS IN MY ROOM AGAIN!”

There is nothing more annoying than a hysterical girl- I can admit that, but as soon as I said that, I started laughing. I was legitimately freaking out right now. I knew this is going to be really funny in the morning (and it was).  Oh the things daughters put their fathers through…

My mom and dad had to tuck me in and say my bedtime prayers with me like the good ol’ days and specifically pray that darn rodent would sleep too.

Thanks Mom and Dad. I love you so muchJ

Enough of that.

Much of today was spent cleaning up the mess Hurricane Joe left behind. The urge to punch him in the face was eaten by Rat Pack while I was slept last night, so I was over it, but still not impressed. Abraham arranged a meeting with himself, Important Guy and Important Guy #2 and Joseph. All the people he had been telling stories to. That’s when the guys from The Office say, “Boom. Roasted.” Abraham wanted to get everything out in the open because he was tired of dealing with this. Tension had been mounting for two and a half years and my incident was the tipping point.

I was so uncomfortable. I wanted to be anywhere other than where I was. This kid was getting grilled. He sat there with his head in his heads and hardly said a word while the frustrated three men were all talking at the same time in a language I don’t understand in a very animated fashion.

Ugh.

I don’t do drama and this afternoon has maxed out my quota until 2012.

I needed to get out of the house. All I wanted to do today was play with the kids, so finally at 2:30 in the afternoon, I marched out the door.

I was so hot outside but nothing compared to the inferno Joseph was just in.

I had the kids help me send a good luck picture back to my Carroll girls for their conference tournament coming up this weekend, so I had brought them balloons today to complete the picture.

Oh my… they flipped. They loved them and we had so much fun with them.

I was blowing up a balloon for one of the littles when my leg was suddenly splashed with water from behind. I stood right up. I slowly turned around to see Wild Man (his name is technically Jason but it doesn’t fit him) and Beki, who has the BEST laugh, smiling ear to ear with empty cups in their hands. Guilty as all get out.  

Busted.

I grabbed a bowl next to the water tank and filled it up and tore across the yard after them. They were screaming. I was screaming. We were all screaming… and why not? We’re kids, aren’t we? I splashed them. They splashed me. They fell on the ground laughing and I nearly did the same.

I was soaked- well my bottom half was. My opponents barely came past my knees, but they were relentless. I had full blown water fight today, and it such a blast. Refreshing on all accounts.

I am off to give myself an African foot soak and go to bed.

Much love to you all.

Sunday Swindling

This day needs to end. I  am not very happy and I need to go to bed to improve my mood. I have been duped big time and I am offended, humiliated and behind all that, hurt. I am so ready to go back to Saboba. I completely fell for a sob story and gave someone money I shouldn’t have. Through a series of events that I am not going to tell you because it will make me mad all over again, I learned Abraham has been having some trouble with Joseph, the boy from the other day, and that he lies incessantly. This made me question whether I had just got worked over (uh YEAH). I told Abraham my story, which he was livid about and fired him from his house.

I am a dumb girl.

This is exactly why it can be difficult to help people in genuine need because well-meaning people loose trust and their generosity.

However, I am not writing and you are not reading a blog with a bad attitude, so I will tell you about the great day I had until this point.

Breakfast this morning.. oh how I love breakfast, especially when it’s something other than crack toast. I bring this up because I would like to share with the group that I think my taste buds are changing again (thank God) as I have been eating and enjoying big chunks of tomatoes, peppers and onions in my eggs. This is big news. While we’re still on the food network, Zee made fried plantains with this tomatoey bean mixture for lunch today and it was excellent! The last time I had plantains, I was in Fiji eating them raw with an equally raw piece of fish on top in front of an audience of well-meaning villagers. This was a nice upgrade.

Church here this morning was the best I have experienced since I have been here. Abraham does a service just for the kids every single Sunday but they do all the singing and praying and special songs. He just preaches. It is the most adorable thing. The little ones ALL eventually fell asleep so the not as little ones picked them up and took them to their beds and returned to the service. So precious. One of the older boys led everyone in prayer and requested especially for all the other orphans who are not as fortunate as they.  

I think I have misled you about this orphanage. I have described it to you through privileged American eyes who have never, ever seen anything like this before. Yes, they have lost their parents, but they are so happy and love their lives and all their brothers and sisters. Abraham does a phenomenal job with these kids, and they think it’s the best place in the world. This obviously is not the norm, especially for orphanages in this part of the world. One of the little girls said that when she has a baby, she’s going to put it in an orphanage to grow up. And to think, all of this started when Abraham found an AIDS baby a few weeks old who was a “throw away” as they call it and took her in as a single, 25 year old guy. He loved her as his daughter and took her everywhere with him. People were shocked to see a man caring for a baby the way he was. Now he has 46 kids who love him dearly. Isn’t that amazing?

I was so happy to share a pew with them this morning.

I am also happy to report last night’s strike against the unmentionables was a success. This is mostly likely due to my suburb stealth and fighting skills and possibly the wooden bench I moved in front of my door.

Hope you are having an enjoyable Sunday!

Rat Pack

I am so repulsed right now.

(Heebie jeebie body shake)

I just made a discovery that has completely ruined the last 24 hours of my life.

I have noticed these last few days that I am really craving sweets because we don’t eat dessert here and the sugar in my tea every morning is about all I get. My Aunt Ronda sent me enough mini Snickers to have one every day I am gone and they are my saving grace right now. Thank you again!

Just a few minutes ago, I had a massive craving for something sweet and went to my room to grab a Snickers out of my bag. I reached in blindly and felt chocolate on my fingers.

“I don’t remember opening this.”

Boom. It hit me. The rustling plastic I heard last night… that was not the garbage sack. I frantically pulled the package out of my bag to find a corner of the unopened package had been nibbled away as well as one of the individual wrappers to get to chocolate.

OH NO YOU DIDN’T...

I was freaked out all over again and kicked my bag as hard as I could on the off chance that it might still be in there. I threw the half eaten Snickers into a bag, tied it up and through it in the garbage. Sick. Sick. Sick! I was so disgusted I had a nasty rodent IN MY BAG which was sitting on the bed next to mine, and beyond offended it went for my chocolate! This all leads me to believe that it couldn’t have been a measly mouse. I think it was a rat. A rat pack, like Frank, Deano and the rest of the gang and it, or they rather, climbed on the bed, into the side pocket of my bag and defiled the one thing that satisfies my soul… The nerve!

This is SO getting personal.   

It is clear my safety is in jeopardy, and I am launching a defensive battle in the name of protecting all I hold dear. I will have the troops secure the premises (meaning try and figure out how to tightly shut my door with no latch) and pull out all the ammo we’ve got and load the bazookas. 24 hour watch effective immediately. This is war, people. Me against the world of rodents and reptilians, and I am going to go William Wallace all over that thing if it dare breach my territory.   

Oh what I would give for the United States Air Force in my back pocket right now.  

I really hate I am so bothered by this stuff. I guess when you pray not to be scared  of certain things, you get the opportunity to practice courage. That makes sense to me even though I don’t really like it, but must we bring the chocolate into this?!

If it’s not Houdini, it’s the Rat Pack. Unbelievable.

On a lighter, non-militant note, today was a good day. Abraham’s lady friend Zee is here, and I really, really like her, She’s like Abraham in that while they are Ghanaian, they are keenly aware how the rest of the world works. The walk from Abraham’s to the orphanage is quite a trek, but it went by fast today because she came with me and we talked the whole time. She’s a cute, athletic little thing like thing like my college roomie Hannah Richardson kind of cute, and her hair is corn-rowed into a really long pony tail. I have never seen such a thing, but I like it very much.

She really likes the kids as well so we spent hours playing games with them this afternoon. If I stay here much longer, I am not going to be able to leave them. Every day I love them more. The little ones made up their own game that had them all laughing SO HARD and it went something like this: chant something in Gonja (the local dialect) and then at a certain point, they all scream, tackle each other and dog pile onto the cement floor of the patio. Oh yes, there were bonking of heads and getting pounded into the ground, but there were no tears.

I can no longer afford to leave my camera at home. This stuff needs to be caught on tape. It’s too good.
The little girl who was sick yesterday was running around like happy kids do, which I was delighted to see.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and I am so excited for church because it’s at the orphanage with the kids. Abraham has them sing every Sunday, and I already love it.

Well, I should go brush my teeth, take all my anti-everything-in-Africa meds and paint up for battle. And yes, I will be stomping loudly all the way down the hall to my room…

Come and Dine

Recap of the 25^th

I do not even know where to start.

How about the very beginning?

Let me remind you that I am completely by myself in a stranger’s house and strange land today. I woke up this morning to Joyce making me, the only one here, breakfast in her pink school uniform before she went to school for the day. She had also washed the heap of dishes and cleaned the whole house before school as well. I am so impressed by this girl. She is the non-creepy equivalent of the “vera, vera sneaky” butler guy on Mr. Deeds who is always there at the right time and “appears” whenever he is needed. Joyce is like that. Even when I have to do mom things with my mom eyes, I will never be as on top of it as this girl.

Her brother Joseph and some of his friends came over before I left to go see the kids. As I was walking out the door, he was sitting at the table singing about the “goodness of God” to himself which is typical for him and asked if I wanted to hear the song he just wrote.

“Sure?”

It was good… straight from the heart. I smiled the whole time because I knew God was too. Who needs pitch when you’ve got a good heart right? What was really funny was that one of his friends chimed in after he was done and said, to paraphrase with American church culture lingo, that maybe God gave him that song, but really should give it back because he can’t sing. I was laughing so hard because that’s exactly what I would have thought at any other time or place but here in Ghana with this sweet guy. That got us on this discussion of music and that Abraham has a keyboard somewhere, which I was ecstatic about and made Joseph find before I left so I could get “dry cells” aka batteries for it.

The kids were great today for the most part. As I have told you before, this is not easy for me, so I have to make a conscious effort to act out of love rather than hide behind the pain of injustice. I stayed there for a while, just hanging out and playing with the kids. One of my instant favorites was sick today and she lay out on the porch outside with flies buzzing all around her. She looked like a limp banana peel tossed on the ground. Of course I was concerned about this, and I realize I do not know this child’s history and what her norms are, but this was just common sense. The “aunties” who take care of them were of no help to me in acquiring medical information. They just said her stomach was bothering her… just today or is she sick all of the time? Communication barrier times a thousand. I was getting really irritated because they weren’t doing anything about it and because I couldn’t understand anything that was going on other than she is obviously sick. She’s three. See, as an educated medical person like a PA for example, I could figure out what was wrong with her myself. Ahh- I was so frustrated by all of this, and on top of that, sad. I told Abraham he better see to this himself because she is not well. I am so excited I am going to school to learn.

I took my good camera today just for fun, and I am so glad I did. I got some really amazing shots that will serve as poignant reality checks and reminders why I am doing what I am doing in life. And… they are super cute and why NOT get some more of those?!

I left shortly after they had their lunch and realized on the long way home, now that I am “woman of the house”, there was a serious lack of safe drinking water in the house. I stopped to by a huge pack of sachets. There is about 20  500 ml sachets in each. HEAVY!! Point of amusement: me trying to carry this gracefully down the street. Point of greater amusement-I actually stopped to try and put it on my head like the woman do here…. I’m strong right? It can’t be that hard. Bad, bad idea.

I do not know how these women do what they do here. To me, the most mundane, routine tasks these woman do here is one remarkable feat after another.

I was a legitimate damsel in distress. White girl can’t fetch water. Clarification- I could but I could no carry it without hiding who heavy it was. These two boys, bless their hearts, for the secondary school here,  came to my rescue. Luckily, they were nice, respectable young men and walked me all the way home carrying my water. I wish I could have filmed this because I know I would have been laughing so hard at myself. This whole situation: me “fetching” water to “save the family farm”, realizing I am SO not on the Carroll College Women’s Bball weight lifting program anymore and having these two high school boys walk me through this little African town. Just another day in the office I guess.

This afternoon was I put the batteries in the piano and sat around the kitchen table with people I do not know and sang and played for hours. It was a blast, and really, probably one of the most enjoyable things I have done since I have been here. I miss my music like I never thought I would. The sky had started to get dark, and finally, with a commanding clap of thunder, the floodgates opened. Excited, I stood up from where I was sitting and ran outside, opened my arms and let the raindrops soak in.

This was magical.

And that’s when the power went out.

Yep. To me, no power means no fan, which means I sweat, especially since it was so humid.

I bring you back to the key word of this trip: ADAPT.

Abraham was still not home and it began to get dark. Joyce and Joseph where still here, and I am trying to imagine myself here alone with all this going on… I don’t know where anything is. I wouldn’t know what do to or what needs to be done. I am so jumpy when it comes to mice and the huge cockroaches that come out at night and more than anything, it is so dark here. Joseph had lit candles throughout the house while Joyce made spaghetti, or talia as they call it, I bought today because I have had pasta ONCE since I left the U.S.

The three of us sat down at the table, like a family, and had the most wonderful candlelight dinner together. Joe was full of stories, and I pegged him as one of those who cannot talk and eat at the same time. He was telling this story of a Ghanaian minister and his wife was asked to go Accra for a fancy banquet where they served talia to eat. The wife had caused such a raucous because she could not properly use her silverware. Ghanaians do not use silverware; they eat with their hands, so this woman was helpless with her knife and fork. He and Joyce were laughing so hard at this story, which of course made me laugh, but I didn’t get why it was THAT funny. I just chalked it up to culture differences and humor and kept eating and doing the courtesy laugh.

He asked if I had funny shories to share and because I was so hot and thinking about cool weather, I told them a story about a boy who licked a flagpole in the middle of winter because they have no concept of this. I don’t know why that of all things came to me but it did. They were thoroughly amused as I made sure to provide them appropriate visuals and demonstrations.

I noticed that Joe had hardly touched his food and Joyce and I were well into Round 2.

“Joe! Why aren’t you eating?! Aren’t you hungry?” I said in disbelief.

That’s when the table fell silent for a brief moment before Joyce started laughing again, which made him laugh. Was a missing something? I looked to Joyce for help. She explained to me in her broken English that the story Joe told earlier about the preacher’s wife was actually about himself.

Still confused.

Joseph doesn’t know how to use silverware. He doesn’t know how to eat his talia without using his hands.

OH.

For reasons I can’t explain, that really hit my soft spot. She had put out silverware for me and Joseph was trying to be kind and use them as well, but he simply didn’t know how. It was awkward to him.

It is important that you realize that Joseph is a very, very smart young man with a thirst for knowledge I find so inspiring. Through our many conversations yesterday, I learned that he is the eldest of his many orphaned siblings and takes care of them all and sees they are properly placed in good orphanages, which at 9 years old, he dropped out of school to do. He has such an incredible story. He had always loved school but wasn’t able to go because of his family situation. He was not a Christian at the time because his deceased father was Muslim, but was invited to church by a white man that was visiting here and he fell in love. He prayed and prayed for his family and that God would give him strength to take care of this brothers and sisters. One day in the market two years later, he said a man he had never seen before came up to him and told him he would pay for his school (I am translating the best I can because they do not talk like we do so there are a lot of details left out). He has never seen him before or since.

Now Joseph is at the top of his class in secondary school and will graduate this spring. He is our equivalent of a student body president over 2300+ kids and because of cultural traditions, has to address his student body on various occasions and is served food to eat in this setting. To take the food means you take the leadership and everyone watches you.

But he doesn’t know how to use silverware.

This was all making sense now.

School was in session. We twisted our spaghetti around our forks. We used our knife to scoop the remaining noodles onto our forks. He asked so many questions, SO many questions, and I felt it was my duty to teach him as best as I possibly could because this kid has something very special about him. I loved that he felt he could ask me these things, and I love teaching.

“At school, they serve me big chicken. How do I cut it?”

I had to think. We had nothing in the house that we could cut.

Ah. I got it. I got up and ran to my room, scaring the mouse that was in there, which made me scream bloody murder and run back down the hall to the kitchen. Once Joe said the coast was clear, I quickly went back down the hall, grabbed one of my beloved Clif bars out of my bag and RAN back to the table.

I took it out of the wrapper, grabbed my knife and fork and showed him how use the two pieces together to cut something in half. I placed one half of my chocolate chip bar on his plate and kept the other on mine for demonstration.

Bite by bite, by the flickering candlelight, we cut our Clif bars into small pieces one at a time and learned how to properly use silverware.

I loved this so much. It made me feel good that I was helping someone in a practical way, and I so admired his love of learning. I shared my “dessert” with Joyce who had moved next to me to observe. He kept asking questions about food, proper etiquette, when you laugh when you are not suppose to while you are speaking in public (lol), and what to do when you are giving a public address and people are intentionally trying to distract him. What do you do?

It took me a while to understand why he was asking all of these questions, but eventually I got it out of him: because of his prestigious position in school, he is the focus of a lot of hatred and jealously. There were 82 people who applied for this position, but it was handed to him. His life is literally in danger. He has been beaten. His food has been poisoned. He lives in a secure building above the head master in which no one is allowed to enter. His “safe” room has been ransacked and has had everything stolen from him. He wakes up every morning at 4 to go to class early to avoid confrontation. He is harassed incessantly during his mandatory, formal speeches at school. Even in Damongo, he is not safe in public because there are a lot of boys here who go to his school (they are on midterm break now and start again Monday).

I was appalled by what I was hearing. This day was nothing but an inning of curve ball after curve ball. Hearing this made me mad. How could they treat him like that?

What was even more shocking is that he thinks that he is one of the most fortunate people in the world because of all the opportunities and blessing God has given him and for His protection. What an incredible attitude. He, in the most literal sense, depends on God for this daily help and safe-keeping.

I was honored to be sharing a table with him. What a marvelous, inspiring story.

I forgot to mention that he wanted me to teach him how to play the piano, so we had lessons during the rain yesterday. He soaks things up with the same desperation this land does with the rain.

Abraham and his beautiful girlfriend Zee finally returned and about 10 last night. I was so relieved.

I woke up with a start in the middle of the night. I heard something. It was coming from inside my room… mouse or rat feet crawling around on my floor. Instant panicked. If this thing climbs in my bed,  heart failure imminent. The power was still out so none of the fans were on, and I could hear EVERYTHING. I know I shouldn’t be so scared (this is not a snake), and I hate that these things make me so jumpy. I was inches away from calling my dad (because he was going to…? Come over and kill the rodent?). BUT, at 2 am this morning, I learned how to pull it together and conquer fear. I had to listen to me murmur my own pep talk (You are in Africa. This is no place for wimps. I survived college basketball. I can do anything… Pull it together, sister!!). I had to breathe deeply and slowly. I had take control and make myself stop sweating out of fear, block out the noise and go to sleep. I know that does not sound like much, but this what I call a Stage 5, Class AA moral victory. I was the most proud of myself I have ever been when I woke up this morning.

The power is still out, but I managed to recharge my computer while the generator ran this morning for a short time. The sky is still eerie, so it will probably rain again.

I have no idea what today holds, but that is what I love about my life here. It’s like a surprise every day. Every day, I have the opportunity to feel experience things that move me deeply and see things my imagination cannot even create. I see beauty. I see pain. I see vivid color juxtaposed to the monochromatic dust on my feet, on the faces of children, and the huts they live in.

This is what it is be fully alive.

May God give you the same breath of life.

Mills Family Christmas... Ghana Style

Confession: There was a small pity party going on the second room on the left where I was for a majority of the day. Today I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Why in the world do I do this? This attitude right here, selfishness, is why I had to make myself live in a place like this in hopes that Africa would beat out of me.

As I have mentioned before, I do not like it here in Damongo, and I want to go back to Saboba (insert pouty face). The people I am staying with are wonderful, but there’s just something about this town and the people here I don’t like very much. In Saboba, people are kind, generous and respectful. It is very much a small-town feel where everyone says hi to each other and life is simple. I have friends who genuinely care about me, and I feel very safe. The people here seem like they are always after something. Though some are kind and greet you, there are a lot who are not. Kids will come up to you and demand money or whatever you are holding, “Sister, give me your camera.” There is this adolescent crowd I have thought about drop-kicking across the street a few times. It’s like they know just enough about Western culture to be annoying but yet they are still very much in rural Africa. AND… I do appreciate being scammed on all the time! Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Yes, I can see the humor in these situations, but I really don’t like it. I cannot walk down the street without some guy asking for my number or wanting to meet me later downtown or asking me all these other personal questions about my stay in Damongo. Today alone I have acquired a husband and two requests for my phone number. Here’s the thing: It has nothing to do with Nikki Mills but everything to do with white skin. They could care less if I was some Bulgarian Bertha with a unibrow and bad teeth. They just see white skin. This is the SAME reason why I get so irritated with dumb girls who go after my brothers!! They don’t even know… they just see a handsome face.

Oh dear… I see I have ended up on my soapbox again.

Well, let me just climb right down, and I’ll tell you my way of dealing with this: I am nice, always nice. I am a very nice American. Not snotty. I say I am just here visiting for a few days (true). I am as vague as possible. I endure the awkwardly long, creepy handshake (totally different when it is from a Ghanaian who is just being hospitable). I say that my phone is dead (not true) and I just got here so I do not know my phone number (this is true and this is also why I will never memorize it so I do not have to lie). Persistent they are… so they ask for my email. Not that they have internet readily available to them, however they are very insistent about acquiring this information. I was going to give them my friend Elly’s but they would get really confused by the spelling of her last name, so I am just giving them Nicole’s. She’s holding down her first teaching job, coaching basketball, engaged and planning a wedding, so she has plenty of spare time to deal with my callersJ

Moving on from this ridiculous topic, I had to call my mom briefly today to have her help me get a better attitude. (thanks Mom) So I did. I have to make the best of it here because I am indeed stuck here and know there is a reason for this.

I took a brief nap and went back to the orphanage with Yolanda, who was bringing them a surprise dinner as it was her last day here. I was there for a while this morning, and it went much better than yesterday. They just got new uniforms, seeing all of them prance around with smiles plastered all over their faces was just adorable. The shorts for the little boys were entirely too big so they kept falling down. What I really enjoy about watching these kids is how much they help each other. The older girls, as in 6 of 7, would help each other put their dresses on, tie each other’s sashes and then make sure all the little boys were dressed and ready to go. They are completely self-sufficient at a young age and do not feel sorry for themselves. There is one little boy who is just a wild man and constantly had his shorts around his ankles today, which made him cry. I picked him up, fixed his shorts and sat down in a chair with him. Another little boy, Joe, came up to my chair, wanting to show me the animals on his shirt, so we went through and named them all. By the time we finally figured out how to say “giraffe”, little wild man was dead asleep. So, I closed my eyes too for a bit. It was quite nice.

Speed back to dinner time. Yo brought the kids kinke (kink-ay) which is smashed up corn patted into a dough ball and rewrapped in the husk. It is served with a hot pepper sauce that is actually really good. Ghanaians do not usually eat with silver wear, especially such traditional foods, and I have observed they do it all the same way. The kinke goes in a bowl, the pepper sauce goes in the bottom, and you pinch off a chunk with your first two fingers, dip it in the sauce and put it in your mouth. There are bowls of water on the tables for you to rinse your fingers off when you are done. We have done that twice now at Abraham’s. it is interestingJ

The kids FREAKED OUT when they saw what she had brought. Again, all the older ones help the little ones get situated and then they eat. Once the kids were done, mass chaos erupted.

Little wild man, who has nothing on his bottom half, starts chasing another little 2/3 year old who still has his bowl of kinke but no pants either around the entire room. They are laughing so hard and screaming… it was absolutely hilarious. The older boys (10-13) are helping clean up. There are two girls fighting over the right to a juice box. Little wild man enters the scene again and runs right in front of me, still chasing the other little boy whose laugh sounds even better than that of the laughing babies video on Youtube. The herd of girls and boys around the 16 month old twin girls (severely developmentally behind) are trying to feed them and make them laugh. The twins are not at all overwhelmed with all the attention even though they are being picked up by one arm to be hoisted into a small child’s arms. Then that kid will hand her off to another kid, which usually ends up in some disagreement because everyone, boys and girls of all ages, loves those twins and want to hold them…

And then Yo busted out the glow sticks… oh my word. This is so much better than kinke!! It is a complete mad house. 46 kids, mostly half-naked by this point, are all running around screaming, waving the glow sticks around, helping each other make them into bracelets, making necklaces for the twins. Some of the older boys get this brilliant idea to throw them up into the fan, hoping to catch a blade, and shoot across the room. Now there are glow sticks flying everywhere. Screaming. Laughing. Running around….

It’s like a Mills family Christmas.

I just had to stand there and watch. It was absolutely hilarious.

I went outside on the porch to sit with a few of them and when you sit down at this place, be prepared for 5 kids to jump on your lap or on your back. It’s just how it works. My little friend Adiatu was the reason I went out there in the first place, so we started singing again. I LOVE this so much! They all love to sing, and like to learn new songs. It was just like sitting around the campfire on a summer’s night singing with old friends. Hannah H, you are going to die- They know Shakira’s Waka Waka Africa song!! This was the theme song for the World Cup last year, and they dance to it too! Oh I loved that one. It was my favoriteJ

It was such a great night. I really love these kids, even though it is a hard thing to kids like this.

Yolanda, Abraham and I sat in the living room this evening when we got home and had the most “hopeless romantic” conversation about love and relationships and all that goes with it. It was so enjoyable, mostly because Abraham is such a softy. No surprise there though- he runs an orphanage for heaven’s sake. It was also so enjoyable to me that a Dutch girl, a Ghanaian man and the new American girl have so much to talk about. Every one of us could relate to the others because of a similar experience even though we are from three very different parts of the world.

Good times in Ghana.

Tomorrow I will be on my own in a house that is not mine in a town I do not like. Hmm.  Lucy is gone, Abraham is taking Yolanda back to Tamale because she is going back to Holland and Joyce will be in school. The possibilities are endless, but I think it will go something like this: Breakfast, kids, acquire husband #2, nap, read. I think I can handle that.

I hope you all had a great day! Enjoy the cold… I am so jealous.

I nearly forgot: I taught Joyce and her brother Joseph (19) how to play spoons this afternoon. Joe is terrible, absolutely terrible because he gets so fixated on his cards rather than the spoons and never gets 4 or a kind, but INSISTED we play again, and again, and again because THIS time he was going to win!!  Joyce had the giggles so bad seeing him lose so bad every time that I got the giggles. So funny.

Up. Down. Repeat Cycle.

Recap of yesterday:

I experienced Ghana sun like I never have before, and I paid for it big time. My time spent outside perusing around the Damba festival zapped every ounce of energy from me. I don’t know myself like this, and it is frustrating to someone who doesn’t know how to pace herself in such weather. Consequently, I took a 2.5 hour nap TWICE yesterday and was sleeping by 9 last night.

It is hotter than blue blazes out here.

My culture shock has been postponed until now. I guess it’s not so much shock as feeling like a complete outsider. This festival is one bizarre thing after another: Dancing, slaughtering cattle, chiefs and warriors, throwing food, the most peculiar dress I have ever seen. In some ways I feel like I shouldn’t be here because it is so “African” for lack of a better word. This festival is really important to the Gonja tribe, and I don’t understand anything that is going on or anything anybody is saying.

Saboba is not like this, and I miss it every day. The people in Damongo are not nearly as friendly, and life here is more frenetic though things will probably slow down when this festival is over. I need to suck it up because this is simply an opportunity to stretch and learn. I knew these times would come…

The hardest part about yesterday was my time at the orphanage.

I know that being an orphan means you have lost both parents. I understand the repercussions of this. I went with my Dutch friend Yolanda, and even though they don’t even know how I am, the little ones spotted as yards away and came running and latched on our legs, wanting us to pick them up. At first it’s endearing as they are so cute, but after a while, it got tiring to me because of what all this means.

They are so dirty. Snotty noses, dirt all over their hand and feet and ratty clothes, and I genuinely despised myself for a few moments yesterday for hesitating to pick up a  little boy who couldn’t have been more than 3. I hated my clean white shirt and my clean shorts and my freshly disinfected hands. How dare I think I am to clean to give a small child love and affection? Dear God, forgive me. I was so upset at myself that tears began to well in my eyes as I reached down to pick this bright-eyed little boy. How dare I think such a thing…

One of the girls had a game she wanted to play so we went inside around a table and starting setting it up. Instantly, there was a heard of other little kids surrounding us wanting to play. This was a memory game, a Toy Story 3 memory game, and though it was in Dutch, I could still figure it out. Liza, the one who initiated this, is 6 and brilliant. She beat me everytime, and I was honestly trying. She could remember from rounds back exactly where the card with Woody smiling with Jessie was. I couldn’t believe it. The little boy I picked up earlier was asleep on my lap, his sweat dripping onto my leg.

I didn’t move.

It was time for the older ones to start setting up for lunch, so we went outside and that’s when I met 10 year old Adiatu. She is a stunning little girl with a vibrant personality, and I connected quickly with her. There was music one of the boys had turned on a she began to sing, and that turned into song after song. I taught her one of my favorite songs that Jon and Trish taught me when I was little (I love you for that and hope you are reading this). She loved it, which was no surprise considering I’m 23 and I still love it. After that one, she asked if I knew the next song and she began to sing.

The words went something like this,

“No more suffering. No more weakness. The day will come when I will see my Jesus. Mommy is waiting for me. Daddy is waiting more me. My sister is waiting for me...”

Shot to the heart. I couldn’t keep the tears inside. Even now, a day later, writing this I can’t hide the hurt I still feel. There were so many emotions all at once. I was so touched by her innocence and her sweet hope, and that she is a genuinely happy little girl despite her circumstances, overwhelmed and saddened by the severity and weight of her circumstance, and angry. This was so unfair.

I had to look away though I was still listening. I looked at the other kids, doing various things. Two were fighting. The older boys were playing soccer out in the sun. A baby was sleeping on the concrete porch outside in nothing but her panties. These are the kind of images that never leave someone.

I used to have a Bible with pictures in it highlighting various stories throughout the Scriptures. There was one of Jesus sitting on a rock with children on His lap and all around him.

“Let the little children come to me.”  

When you see something like this, your understanding of who God is deepens. It’s like how you get to know someone over dinner, “Oh so you are a Cowboys fan…” You learn things about each other when you talk and life out your lives together, and I am understanding the heart of God more and more.

There are two ways to handle seeing things like this: get bitter and angry and wonder what kind of God would allow such horrible things or feel compelled to share the hope that drives you.

I am choosing the latter. Yes, this made me angry, and yes, I have questioned God. I am not smart enough or energized enough to write about why I think bad things happen to good people. I do not know. No one does, but if things are really all up to chance and if there is really no purpose to any of this, to any of the pain and sorrow we deal with every day, why get up in the morning?

Why?

I certainly wouldn’t.

I know it hurts, but it hurts me more to know that there is no reason for any of this. God is a God of great love and compassion, and when things like this hurt me, how much more does God feel?

I pray and pray that God would come and save them and give them arms to love them and hands to hold theirs, but it occurred to me that may never happen in the way I see fit in my mind’s eye. But just yesterday, I realized that God was using my arms to love them, and my hands to hold theirs because He cares about those little ones.

My emotions are unpredictable as things are so overwhelming. I am doing fine, I really am, but things are just a but tough right now. Forgive the ups and downs and the tears. I have to write to keep myself sane.

In other news, I did attend the festival today and my OH MY what an event that was. These people are crazy. They danced all night, literally ALL night last night and starting at 10 and danced for nearly 3 more hours!! I watched the whole things, memorized by the color, rhythm and music. I saw the Ashanti tribe’s king, which was a really big deal here, and left after that because I was doing that wilting-going to die thing so Bob and Jean took me back to the house.

I am not even going to attempt to describe what I saw, so I will get you pictures somehow.

New Cast Members….

Abraham- the guy I’m staying with who runs the orphanage. He is amazing, and has opened his home to me and several other people. He is smart, insightful and so much fun. I am very thankful to have met him.

Joyce- She is 15 and used to be live at the orphanage, but now lives at the house. She is a darling girl and took one of my naps with me yesterday day. She cooks when Abraham doesn’t and is a wonderful chef. I have had several opportunities to talk to her about her life and the thing that moved me most is that she is so happy. That is a common thing I have been seeing here. Her parents have been taken away from her, but she has a deep abiding joy.

Lucy- the other girl who lives in the house. She is my age and also very sweet. I enjoy talking to her, but what I really enjoy is listening to her and Abraham argue about whatever is the topic of the moment. She wore this blue dress today that was jaw-dropping. These girls have a kind of beauty I have never seen before.

In other, other news, I just checked my email to see my dear brother Galen has made this facebook official, but I did find out this morning that I got accepted to ISU.

Gavin’s response: “AHHHHHHHHH MOM!! Tap the keg!!!” (hilarious) “Nik! This means you can work for me someday!” He would.

This acceptance means several things: that God gives us dreams so He can make them happen, that I have good people in my life who have helped me, and that I am going to school in the fall, which means that I am going to do my dream job this summer and work in a flower shopJ

I have yet to hear about Loma Linda, but either way, I am going to school so I can graduate and get some crap done around this place.

I know so many of you were praying with your eyes shut extra tight- THANK YOU and I’m sending you all my love.

HOLY MOLE!!

(That’s pronounced Mol-ay just in case you didn’t catch on;)

There is so much that happened today! Brace yourself, this is going to be long.

I think there’s a golden oldie that has a chorus that goes something like “Mole Molaaaayy! Mole Mole!” I realize that you cannot hear a tune through writing, especially when those are  probably not even the right words, but I make up my own words a lot and that’s what I was singing all day today. “Magic Carpet Ride” yesterday and “Mole, Mole” today.

Today was one for the books. Epic is really the only word to describe my endeavors in Mole National Park. I checked a few things off my bucket list, and for 23, that’s not too shabby. I just happen to glance at my watch today, and read 11:55 am, and I thought to myself, “Holy Mole! The day is not even half over and my awesome quota was maxed out for the next year!”

Check it out:

5:20 am- Alarm goes off. I hit snooze two more times and then get out of bed to put on my safari-esque clothes I set out last night. I’m already sweating.

6:15 am- Depart from Damango and head to Mole, which is only 15 km but took us almost 45 minutes. This was a Lion King sunrise. Absolutely vibrant.

7:00 am- Arrive in time for the walking tour only to find out from one of the guides that we will see so much more if we drive… in an air-conditioned vehicle? I’M IN. It was also at this time that we find that one of the guides knows Bob and Jean from their time at the hospital in Damongo and wants to give us a free tour around Mole. Dr. Jean has saved his life and his son’s life, numerous times, and felt a free, guided tour would be the least he could do. This is a prime example of that literary element we call “foreshadowing.”

7:15 am- Yaboa, our safari guide with a 357, rides shotgun (bahaha) while Bob drives and Dr. Jean and I are in the back. Yaboa directs us down the “Office Loop” which is 16 km round trip. Quick definition of goals for this trip here- ELEPHANTS. I want to see an elephant in its natural habit in the worst way. Crazy baboons- added bonus. Bob is creeping along at .000002 mph, stopping at every deer we see. I am not going to say I was getting frustrated because that would be rude, now wouldn’t it? He was only doing that to create photographic opportunities for me, which was very kind of him.

7:30 am- Still creeping. “OH! Look look! Another deer!!!” My lens cover is still on my lens.

7:45 am- See above. If we were going any slower, we would be going in reverse.

7:55 am- Who’s idea was it to come to Mole again?

8:00 am- Wart hog and its little babies!! Finally a break from those darn deer. Yaboa told us they are known for their bad attitudes. One just happened to look right at me right then. Yikes. I would have a bad attitude if I had a face like that too. Poor Pumba.

8:05 am- Yaboa’s phone rings. Elephants spotted along the road on a different loop, not far from where we are. Step on it, Bob! So there I was, bouncing in the back yet again, thrilled to be on an elephant chase “Please don’t let them leave. Please don’t let them leave!”

Ok- I have absolutely no idea what time it was. I was never good with time in the States, and now I’m in a culture that doesn’t use a clock. I was merely making accurate, journalistic guessesJ

Anyway, so we’re off to find the beasts. Bob is hauling (his usual), and my excitement was mounting yet trying not to get my hopes up. Minutes later, we see another vehicle pulled off on the side of the road, and Yaboa motions for Bob to pull off as well. My door is open before we come to a stop.

Yaboa is on it (I like this guy), trudging through grass and trees, and I am obnoxiously close behind him. And there,  not 30 yards away are two bull elephants who had stopped by Dead Tree Diner for some breakfast.

No. Way.

I had to pinch myself. Ouch. Yep, this is real. I’m really standing right in front of some elephants, not in a zoo, but in wild Africa that I just trudged through the bush to get to. I wanted to get closer, but I asked Yaboa if he had even been charged before. Dumb question to ask 007. His story made me laugh, quietly of course. We didn’t want a repeat. I told him I was going to take a video of him talking about the elephants and getting charged by one. It’s such great footage, with the gun and the two elephants munching away in the background. However, you can hardly hear him as he is so soft-spoken.

AND THEN, we were told that there were three more just off to the other side of the road! Oh this is too good to be true! I started filming as we trekked down the hill, through the brush, dodging this branch, getting thawacked by that branch. We came into somewhat of a clearing and there before us stood a ginormous bull with two smaller ones. This one was almost twice as big as the other two we just saw. I could not believe my eyes. What marvelous creatures.

I was taking several pictures of these ones and I followed Yaboa closer and closer… Big Papa turned its massive head and looked right at us. Too close? Wups. Sorry, sir. Elephants are as blind as bad referees, but their sense of smell and hearing are superior.  Yaboa said these were all males, and that the young only stay with their mothers until they are about 9 years old and then they go off to form their own man club with their father.

Yaboa 007 and I with half an elephant:)

Another group had joined ours by this point and you could tell Big Papa was starting to get a little annoyed by us. Time to head out.

I jumped back in the lorry. The morning has hardly started and this day has far exceeded my expectations. How fortunate I was.

Correction from yesterday- “lorry” is a British term for any size of truck , SVU or semi.

We headed for the water hole. The perk of coming to Mole this time of year is that all the other water holes in the park have dried up but the largest one, which the hotel conveniently overlooks. On our way there, we saw the most beautiful bright blue bird- an Abyssian Roller?? I know I’m offending birdwatchers, but I’m pulling the rookie card.

We arrived back at the information station where we started this adventure, and the Young’s friend, Zachariah, offered us a quick tour of the museum, which he personally unlocked for us. This guy was seriously hooking us up. It was a small room, but there was nothing small about its contents. It was a room full of bones, skulls, skins of elephant ears, crocodile hides, deer hides, and snake skins... SNAKE SKINS?!?!

It was then I realized that I had been so completely caught up in elephant hunting with Yaboa 007 that I had completely forgot about my strict “never go off the path where snakes are” policy!!

I’m worried about snakes when I could have got charged by a bull elephant today. Yes, I see the fallacy in this, but that’s just the way I think.

There were elephant skulls resting against the wall nearly the length of my legs… my legs. The femur bone came past my hip and the hoof (do they have hooves? Feet?) swallowed mine. I have pictures of all this. It was Comparative Anatomy with Hokit all over again. In a tank by the elephant bones, there was an elephant fetus that was pretty remarkable to look at. I had been dead for years, but it was still cute. There was that darn snake skin plastered to the wall, all 12 ft of it. My fears aside, I had to admit it was impressive. Zachariah said it had died trying to eat a crocodile, and points to the crocodile skin. Oh my. Some ones has eyes bigger than their stomach! Really God? Why on the 7^th day did You look down and say “It is good.” I would have zapped the living daylights out of all snakes. Fur real.

We walked from the Visitor’s Center to the restaurant in the hotel. As I mention earlier, it overlooks the biggest water hole in Mole. Prime animal watching. And people watching for that matter. All the European men sun bathing in speedos, the elderly couple who inspire me to keep living despite my age, the young children who have no idea how lucky they are, the tall Dutch girls laughing with some cute Dutch boys (who were not actually Dutch I come find later) and the Ghanaians who think we’re all ridiculous. As for myself, I realize that my legs are covered in dirt from traipsing through the brush. It was righteous dirt though so I didn’t bother cleaning it off.

 There was a guy from Belgium who now lives in New York with his wife and adorable 3 year old daughter on the viewing platform where I was animal/people watching. She kept me laughing the entire conversation, spouting off with one hilarious comment after another. She had a hat on, a pink shirt, panties, no pants and crocs. We became fast friends. They were in Ghana for about a month, which was their first stop on their 6 month journey around the world. No big deal. “I bet he’s a farmer,” I thought to myself.

During my delightful conversation with the Belgium, Elephant #6 emerged from behind a tree on the far side of the water pool. The little girl said very matter-of-factly , “Daddy look! We better not go down there. It might eat us.” Oh she was funny. Minutes later, a baboon dropped out of a tree a few feet near us. Rafiki! I held my bags close to me because those things can go crazy, but fortunately it sauntered off back into the bush. Try and keep a straight face watching a baboon butt walk off into the jungle. It’s impossible.

I realized I had lost Bob and Jean, so I went back up to the restaurant to find them. They were engaged in a conversation with some really important chief-like men dressed in traditional tunics and hats. They know everyone, so I usually just smile because I never know what they are talking about. The gentlemen leave, and we set our stuff down. It was time for a late breakfast. Yes. Dr. Jean noticed the guys to the table next to us, and before I know it, she’s talking to boys I thought were Dutch. Americans!

Get a load of this small world story- one guy, Chris, had an Illinois basketball shirt on and somehow through the course of conversation, we discover that Chris and his brother Adam and Jean are from small towns 20 miles apart AND that Bob and Jean know their parents! They were put in contact when Chris found out he was coming to Ghana for Peace Corp work and through the small world Ghana-Illinois connection, knew that Jean was in Ghana as well. They had emailed several times about Ghana and just this Christmas, Bob and Jean had dinner with their parents.

My head was spinning. This was too much. It gets better. Chris lives down in the Volta region in the same area where I’m plotting my next adventure, yet to be revealedJ. So now I have hookups down there too! We swapped digits just as a couple from COLORADO SPRINGS sat down at our table!! Well heck. We might as well celebrate the Fourth of July! You know I told them about Gavin, which of course they were impressed with. I found that they guy, loaded with great stories,  was in Paris getting his MBA and she was a lawyer back in Colorado, so these two distant lovers were having a Ghanaian rendezvous before they went back to their lives.

And we all meet over omelets in Mole National Park.

(All together now) Holy Mole!

It was time to leave Mole, but the sight-seeing was not done. We had to stop in Larabanga, a town between Mole and Damongo, to see the cover photo on my Ghana guide book. It was one of the oldest mosques in West Africa built in 1421. What is so unique about this mosque is that it is modeled after a termite mound, so not only is it a historical marvel, but an architectural one as well. It was built this way to maximize stability and airflow, which the termites have mastered. Fascinating. You have to be very careful taking photos in Muslim communities because most believe that you capture their soul if you take their picture. The Nikon took 4 photos of strictly the mosque and maybe some cute kids standing in front of it. I was getting creeper vibes from the people here and I didn’t want one chasing me down to get its soul back.

Things were getting weird, so Dr. Jean and I left quickly. Those people are not right in the head. I’m not joking. I don’t know how else to describe it, but it felt dark and evil there. There is a ton of mysticism and evil spirits known to be lurking in that town. It gave me the heebie geebies.  I was so glad to be back in the lorry… with AC.

Now we are back in Damongo and are going to partake in this three day Damba festival (the Gonja tribe’s massive homecoming) this evening. They boys from Mole just called and said they are trying to make it down, which would be a blast. I will clarify once again- there is no canoodling going on in Ghana (except for the Colorado couple of course), and if these guys even come, we will meet up and have a grand time. Bob and Jean trust them, Dad, so chill. It’s all good. I’m a smart girl with a wicked kick.

I’m resting back at Abraham’s for a bit but there is a soccer, I mean, football game going on outside my window I might have to check out. However, I’m sitting under a fan now and it’s outrageously hot out there…

 Gavin and Galen- I wished you where here so badly today!!  Too many cool things happen, and I just need you here to experience this because I know you would love it.

Just before bed-

I ended up falling asleep before dinner, so I didn’t do a darn thing the rest of the afternoon. Abraham made this rice dish and a salad of cabbage with carrots and red and green peppers that were to die for. I’m so proud of my eating habits these days. I have come leaps and bounds from the whiny, picky girl whose diet consisted of strictly cheese, pasta, olives and mushrooms.

I helped the girls with dishes after dinner. There is no running water here so tonight was very educational for me. Lucy, the Ghanaian girl who is staying here was washing, the American girl was rinsing (dipping soapy dish from Lucy into a bowl of clean water, and Yolanda the Dutch girl was putting the clean dishes away. We had a blast telling stories, which further proves that the kitchen is an international hen house.

I couldn’t take the grimy, safari dust mixed with layers of sweat anymore, so I filled my bucket with fresh water and gave myself my first bucket bath… in the dark. Yep. The power went out during the shampooing stage of this operation. Adapt- this is the keyword of this trip, and that’s exactly what I did. Once I found the cup I used to rinse in the bucket was on the ground somewhere… right… over… here. No here. Ah HERE.  Once I found my rinse cup, I was golden, and by the time I had to gather my things, the lights came back on. Whew. Bucket bath- success.

And just in case some of you are wondering, those no running water thing also means that you dump water in the toilet after #1 and #2 and eventually, it all goes away. This is making me a better womanJ

In other news, I think I have contracted my first tropical bug. Self-diagnosing is never a good thing, but hard to avoid. Dr. Jean confirmed it, and we’re pretty sure I have a little Helicobacter pylori couple raising children at the end of my esophagus. I looked up the symptoms of peptic ulcers caused by H. pylori and have all of them.  Thank God for Pepto Bismol. Dr. Jean is on it though, and when that woman is on a mission, you’re going to want to get out of the way, so I will be juuuust fine.

I did feel better today though in the lower stomach region, so I was able to bring my A game to Mole today. Thank you for keeping me in your prayers. I can feel them.

I saw elephants, baboon butts, wart hogs, diagnosed myself with H. pylori and expanded my global network. This has been a productive day.

Much love to you all! I have soooo many more awesome pics I want to share with you but it's just tooo slow:(

Magic Carpet Ride

That’s the song I had stuck in my head the whole time I was bouncing around in the back of the lorry (their lingo for SVU I believe) today through the heart of Africa. Even though they were the WORST roads I have ever been on in my life, I had to smile has I braced myself between the seat in front of me and the ceiling. This is exactly what I wanted out of this trip- raw adventure. Today I went from one middle of nowhere to another middle of nowhere, and I loved every minute of it.  I figured out a trick- you have to flex your abs to protect your internal organs from the impact against your seat belt and push against the ceiling over bumps. Not only are you protecting yourself, it’s great for your coreJ

What is even more awesome is that there is festival of the century starting tomorrow here in Damongo… PARTY!!!! From what I understand, it’s a glorified get together for the entire Gonja tribe, which occupies this portion of the northwest. All the important chiefs and political figures are here… they are expecting 20,000 people to show up, which I is the equivalent of Powell hosting the Olympics. It’s a really big deal and this is going to be a cultural experience of a lifetime. Perfect timing!

The orphanage…. That will be my feature at a later day. It deserves all of my creative energy and a proper description. There are 46 orphans there and they are just precious. They range from 18 to 11 month old twins. It is ran by Abraham, who will also gets a feature article later as he is probably one of the greatest humans on the planet.

I’m staying at his house with a variety of people, including a really nice Dutch girl who is my age. It’s going to be a good time. I “helped” with dinner tonight by pounding some yams with a 6 ft rolling pin- pounder thing. Of course, white people do not do this correctly and this is very amusing to them. I was freaking out because there was a girl sitting on the ground who kneads it between smack downs. I was so scared I was going to smash her hand as I had no idea how to control this Nikki-sized piece of wood. Quite funny. They were making fofu, a Ghanaian favorite, which is basically a ball of starch and you eat it, with your hands, with soup that had chicken in it. It was good, but my stomach is not quite up to par, and I’m still so exhausted.

I just need to feel better, so if you could keep my health in your prayers, I would really appreciate itJ

We’re going to Mole tomorrow! I want to see an elephant so badly, but it’s not as dry as it usually is so not all the water holes have dried up. Meaning, my chances of seeing one at the usual spot are less likely. But that’s why I’m going on a Safari, so I will go to themJ

It’s 8:30 ,and I am going to bed. I need to bring my A game tomorrow, so I am hoping to find some pep for my step in my sleep.

Hope you all  had a good weekend!

Getcha Fizz On

It finally happened.

I opened my bottle of pepto bismol tablets. More so for preventative measures than anything. We need all systems up to speed because I do not have the time or patience to be sick. I have been so exhausted lately and haven’t felt quite 100% these past few days.

Nothing to worry about though! I am living with an amazing doctor with an encyclopedia for a brain. I will be just fineJ

In other news, I experienced extreme disappointment today. I thought I was going to see a skin graft third-world-hospital style, and because a few nurses did not follow Dr. Jean’s orders for dressing the wound, this gentleman will have to wait two more weeks for the skin graft.

However, let’s not overlook the wow factor of a monstrous open wound! One covers the top of his foot, completely exposing his tendons, which unfortunately now are dead, and one on the inside of his ankle. Dr. Jean pulled the dead tendons off and cleaned it out using hydrogen peroxide and sugar. Ever since I was young, I have been captivated by the foamy fizzing power of hydrogen peroxide. I loved when my brothers had cuts so I could dump H₂0₂ on them and watch it fizz, so this today, was like Christmas.

It grieves me to tell you I left my camera, for the first time, at the house today.  

They say hydrogen peroxide shouldn’t be used now for reasons I do not know, but it’s cheap and effective, so that’s what is used here. And besides, who is “they?” I bet if they watched it fizz, “they” would change their mind.

Today I taught the OR boys the grand game of Chinese numbers. It was absolutely hilarious. If you are not familiar with this game, know that I do not want to tell you, but I’m going to so you can properly appreciate this story.

You take any object-pens, butter knives, markers, whatever you can find- and arrange them in a random order or design. Today I used five packages of butterfly needles because that is all I could find. Resourceful eh?  I arranged them randomly, and told them that this highly sophisticated design symbolized a specific number 1-10. What number is it? They looked down at the packets of butterfly needles strewn about, looked back at me, and looked down again. My friend Moses after a few moments of silence says, “I don’t think I understand.” So funny. I told him to look closely because the answer was right in front of his face.

The number was 2.

Why?

Some of them are still trying to figure out. Moses and Solo got it, and now you too will know. It was 2 because that’s how many fingers I was discretely setting on the tableJ

When Dr. Nick and Bryn were here, we taught them rock, paper, scissors, which they now call “stone, paper, scissors.” They are so great. We have so much fun together.

So, phase 2 of my Ghana trip will begin tomorrow. I will be away from Saboba for 2 weeks, which is bittersweet as I will not see Jonah and Aggie, be able to help Trinity with her math, the OR boys, Mr. Seko who waves at me from his bike shop, or baby Precious.

I forgot to introduce Mr. Seko! Jonah introduced us shortly after I arrived. He is from Nigeria and owns a bicycle part shop here. He is very kind and friendly, and my favorite thing about him is that he always calls my name and waves with his whole arm from his shop whenever I walk by. It’s really wonderful.

Anyway, I will miss Saboba, but I will return soon enough. I don’t know who Joe is going to manage not seeing me everyday… Just teasin;)  

We will leave when Dr. Jean is done with rounds and ties things up. Her leaving Saboba is the equivalent of Vanna White leaving Wheel of Fortune… actually it’s more like pulling the drain in a bathtub full of water. She does everything here, but she needs a break. I hope and pray she will get rest and experience an infusion of hope. We will go to Damongo to stay with friends of theirs. The Young’s used to live there for about 5 years, so this is a place they dearly love. We will go to Mole Monday I believe where I desperately want to see a Lion King array of animals and SWIM in cool water!!! They have a pool at the hotel there, and I am flinging myself into it as soon as I am able.

I’m not getting out until I am beyond prune-y.

It is Senior Night at Carroll College this evening, and I would like to wish Sara and Cassie congratulations! Love you both so much and am so proud of who you are and what you have accomplished.

Wait a minute… this also means it was exactly a year ago I played my last game at my beloved Carroll. I just realized this. This cannot be!

I will see you in Damongo, my friends.  

May God give you rest from your daily grind and an infusion of hope as well.