Posted tagged ‘Bawku Ghana’

“It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the Moon.”

July 20, 2019

Today I am not leaving my house. I have the air conditioner blasting to combat the outside heat and humidity. It is ugly out there. I figure I’ll change my bed and do laundry then I’ll just read, relax and enjoy the cool house. I’ll order dinner. I’m thinking a burger and fries, sort of an all American meal.

Fifty years ago I was in the midst of my Peace Corps training. I was living for three weeks in Bawku, Ghana where Hausa was spoken, the language I was learning. I was living with Imoru Sanda and his family. He always spoke Hausa to me while his daughter, my hostess, spoke mostly English. I taught middle school for a couple of weeks. I had to bike to the school as it was outside the town. Every day the nine of us learning Hausa met for lunch and more language training at the house of a volunteer. We often listened to Voice of America, our only way of knowing what was happening at home. On the day of the moon landing, we stay later than usual to listen to the broadcast. All of us were glued to the radio sort of like the Waltons used to be when they sat around each evening listening to Edgar Bergen. That step happened at 7: 17, Ghanaian time. We could hear Armstrong’s actual words as he stepped off the ladder and said them. Even on the radio it was amazing.

I never saw the film of the landing until long after I arrived home. I never doubted what I had heard and, later, what I saw. 6% of Americans believe it was the landing was a hoax staged at Area 51 or in Hollywood. Last Saturday we watched Capricorn One. It was about a fake Mars landing filmed on a sound stage. This movie gave more credence to the fake moon landing theory.

I found this when I went looking for information about the landing, “One astronaut who actually walked on the moon in 1969 had no tolerance for those who call it a massive hoax. When one conspiracy theorist challenged Buzz Aldrin and called him a liar, Aldrin punched him in the face.”

“Some sounds are so exquisite – far more exquisite than anything seen. Daff’s purr there on my rug, for instance – and the snap and crackle of the fire – and the squeaks and scrambles of mice that are having a jamboree behind the wainscot.”

May 21, 2016

Such a beautiful day it is today. We have sun, a breeze and some white clouds hiding the blue. Rain is predicted, but I can’t remember when.

I have a mystery. Every day at different times I find the corner of the living room rug turned up. Nothing is on or under the rug so I don’t understand why, and I certainly don’t know who, but Gracie is tops on my list of suspects. I’m thinking it’s a Gaslight thing.

Today I have little to say. The week was a busy one but it was mostly because of medical appointments for me and Fern. Nothing much to report except Fern needs more potassium. It’s coming in the mail.

Lawnmowers are disturbing the quiet of my neighborhood. Even my lawn is getting mowed though it hardly seemed tall enough to merit the cutting. I understand the attraction of gas powered mowers, but I miss the click clack of hand mowers, another sound from my childhood which has disappeared.

Snow on the TV is long gone. I remember my father adjusting the rabbit ears to get rid of the static sound of the snow. The ears were wrapped in aluminum foil to give the antenna greater reach. Lots of houses had antennas on the roof.

I remember when I was in Morocco and sitting at a table on the top floor of a restaurant in the old city. It seemed every house had a dish attached to its roof or to the side of the roof. Even the calls to prayer were computerized. I remember being in Bawku, Ghana living with a family for three weeks as part of my Peace Corps training. My room was close to the small mosque on the street below my bedroom so I could hear the call to prayer. The one around 3:30 always woke me up, but after a bit, I knew when it would end so I could go back to sleep. The call became part of my night. The singing of the prayer was beautiful.

I am not a Luddite. I have all sorts of machines, mostly in the kitchen, which make my life easier; however, I am saddened at the disappearance of so many things and so many sounds. The click clack always brought my father to mind. He never bought a power mower. I miss the bells on Sunday mornings. I miss the clinking of milk bottles, and I miss the milkman. I could go on and on. It is just one of those days. It all started with the sound of lawnmowers.

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