Posted tagged ‘Ghana’
June 5, 2014
I woke up at eight but stayed lolling in bed for 45 more minutes. I just didn’t want to move, and neither did the animals: both Gracie and Fern stayed with me on the bed while Maddie dropped by for some pats. You can blame it all on the rain. It is falling lightly, gently, the sort of rain which holds me thrall, and I stop often to sit and listen. I watch the drops fall from the overhang above the window. The house is in cozy darkness. I’m still wearing comfy bed-clothes, and I think I might just do that all day. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do.
We always walked to school. Almost everyone did. The weather didn’t matter. We walked on the coldest mornings and in the heaviest rain. The school was our refuge, and we hurried to get there. On rainy days we didn’t have to wait outside for the bell, the nuns or the lines. We could go right to the cloakrooms, get out of our wet coats and boots and then go into our classrooms. I remember how quiet everything in the classroom seemed on a rainy day. It was as if the rain had blanketed all sounds except its own. Each the classroom had long windows on two sides, and the raindrops tapped the windows. I was a reluctant learner on those rainy days. I wanted just to hear the rain.
When I arrived in Ghana for Peace Corps training, it was the rainy season. Our first stop was on the coast in a town called Winneba where we stayed for two weeks. I remember sitting on the top step of a classroom block watching the rain. I can still see it all so clearly even after all these years. The steps were concrete and they and the building behind me were painted white. The top step was out of the rain, under an overhang. The rain was steady but misty and blurred the buildings as if they were a painting maybe by Monet. I had my travel umbrella with me but I hadn’t opened it. When my left my step, I forgot the umbrella. When I went back, it was gone. I didn’t really care. Nobody in Ghana used umbrellas in the rain.
Categories: Musings
Tags: drizzling, Ghana, laxy day, lying in bed, mist, Monet, Peace Corps, rain, rain on the windows, umbrellas, walking to school
Comments: 14 Comments
April 22, 2014
The morning was sunny but has since begun to get cloudy. Gracie was on the deck earlier when I heard her critter alert bark. I went out and she was trying to get at something hiding behind the deck box. I looked and nothing was there. The mighty watch dog had missed the critter leaving from the other end.
Yesterday was a wonderfully quiet day. I went back and forth between watching baseball and the marathon then read all afternoon. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, but I didn’t get dressed, and I didn’t make my bed. Today, however, my dance card has a few entries, mostly errands, but I’m also having lunch with a friend, Thai food, one of my favorites. I’m even going to change my bed. I feel like a whirlwind of activity.
When I was a kid, I never had set chores. My brother had to empty the basket into the barrel, and he always complained about being put upon. Sometimes, though, I had to empty the inside garbage outside. My mother had a plastic triangular garbage holder with holes in the bottom. Its shape fit perfectly in the corner of the sink. When it was full, one of us took it outside to the garbage pail. The pail was in the ground and you used a pedal to open the lid. I remember all the maggots crawling on the garbage, but I was too young to be horrified by maggots. I was mostly fascinated. The garbage man came once a week and would haul out the pail and empty it into the big barrel he carried. I thought that was the grossest of all jobs until I met the night soil man in Ghana who emptied the outhouse pails. Now that was and still is to me the grossest job of all.
Almost none of the workers who came to the house had names. They were always men and each was defined by his job. We had the garbage man, the trash man, the mailman, the milk man, the newspaper man, the junkman and the scissors-knife sharpener man who rode his bicycle on the street and rang a bell to announce his arrival. The only name we knew was Johnny, the ice cream man. We never thought it strange that we didn’t know the names of the men who came so often to our house.
Now I know the names of the people who come to my house. There are far fewer than when I was a kid. Bob is my mailman, Lori is my newspaper deliverer and Sebastian is my landscaper. The milk now comes from the store and my knives and scissors need sharpening. I am the trash and garbage man who goes once a week to the dump. I haven’t seen a maggot in years.
Categories: Musings
Tags: critter bark, garbage man, garbage pail, Ghana, gross jobs, maggots, marathon and baseball, nameless workers, night soil man, quiet day, reading, sunny and cloudy, trash man
Comments: 10 Comments
April 10, 2014
I want a weapon which uses projectiles. I’m thinking a potato gun. My target is the red spawn of Satan who is constantly at the big feeder. I chase it away but it always comes back. This morning, after my second chase, I was thinking of putting barbed wire across the part of the deck rail the spawn uses for its take-off to the feeder. I’m also giving a bed of nails serious consideration or a metal cylinder. I chuckled at the picture of the spawn trying to get a paw hold on the cylinder but sliding every time. Buying a Have-a- Heart trap is another idea. I’d catch the beast and drive it so far away it would have to learn a new language. That spawn has to go!
The sun is out, but the morning is chilly. It is only 45˚ right now though it is supposed to get warmer by afternoon. I opened the front door and Fern is sleeping on the rug, sprawled in the sun streaming through the storm door. When the sun shifts, Fern too will move to the rug by the back door for the afternoon sun. Maddie is still sticking her head up under the lamp shade for the warmth from the lightbulb. The house isn’t cold, but I guess it’s not cat warm.
Today is my only lazy day, and I’m taking full advantage. Granted, I did make my bed and change the cat litter so I haven’t been a total sloth. I’m really just saving my energy as tomorrow is such a full day.
I always hated people asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had so much trouble figuring out what I wanted to be at Halloween that choosing a profession for my whole adult life when I was ten was ridiculous. I had pat answers: teacher or nurse. Which answer I gave depended upon my mood and the asker. I actually hadn’t given a thought to either one. I was a kid, not a long-range planner. No kid ever was.
I did end up a teacher but hadn’t planned on being one. I was going to be a lawyer. My dad told me law was not for women so he was against it. That didn’t matter to me. I got into law school and was also offered a teaching job, but I turned both of them down for the Peace Corps. Law school was willing to defer my admission so that was my plan after Ghana, but it never happened. I became a teacher. It seemed I had been prophetic at ten.
Categories: Musings
Tags: barbed wire, bed of nails, Bird feeder, blue skies, cats in the sun, cold day, Ghana, growing up, have-a-heart trap, lazy day, long range planning, Peace Corps, red spawn of Satan, sunny
Comments: 8 Comments
February 8, 2014
It’s still winter. I still live in New England. It’s still cold.
Before I go to bed every night, I send the dog outside to do the last of her night’s business then I shut off lights. Before I went upstairs last night, I pretty much did the same thing, but the light in the kitchen was already off and the dog was back inside so we went to bed. When I came downstairs late this morning, I noticed I had left the back door open all night. Right away I thought of the woman and the raccoon. In yesterday’s paper was the story of a woman who was awakened by a raccoon chewing her lips and face. She managed to throw it to the floor and lock it in the bedroom. The raccoon was captured and found to be rabid. The woman started rabies shots right away and also had to get several stitches on her face. It seems the raccoon got into the house through the cat door. Gracie’s door is even bigger than that so I’m thinking lions and tigers and bears, oh my, but actually I believe we’re safe as the 6 foot back fence will keep out most critters. I do pity the woman those shots. When I first got to Ghana, we had shot day, including a rabies shot. As the vaccine went into my arm, my knees buckled and I think I yelped or even screamed. I’m not sure which. The pain blotted my memory.
I’m going to count yesterday as productive. I did a load of laundry, went to have blood drawn and stopped at two stores. In one I bought doo-dads. I bought some watch faces and can’t tell you why. They were just neat looking.
My student Grace called this morning. She is trying to finish her house in Bolga. In Ghana houses are finished a bit at a time when money is available. Her house only needs a roof for the outside to be finished. Grace said when I next come to Bolga I have to stay with her. I said I would if she made jollof rice, Guinea fowl and kelewele. She laughed and said she would. I’m hoping I can go back in 2015 so I need to start saving money: no more doo-dads and no more shopping. The trip is expensive so austerity is my new life-style.
Okay, I just re-read this to check for errors. I have decided my life is boring when laundry is part of the conversation.
Categories: Musings
Tags: austerity, Bolga, chewed lip, Ghana, my student Grace, New England cold, open door, pet door, productive day, rabid raccoon, rabies shot
Comments: 18 Comments
February 2, 2014
Today is even warmer than yesterday. It is already 44˚. I need to get outside for a while as this will be the warmest day of the week, and I don’t want to miss it. Maybe my trusty canine and I need to hit the road.
The sun is hidden behind the clouds, but the day is bright and gives me a bit of hope that old Sol will decide to make an appearance. I looked up the temperature in Bolgatanga today to give myself a little perspective. It will be the coolest day of the week at 90˚. Most of the rest of the week will be between 100˚ and 104˚. Days like that are not among my fondest memories.
Today is Groundhog Day. Phil emerged at 7:28 a.m. and predicted six more weeks of winter, no surprise there, but there is hope. The National Climatic Data Center in Asheville, N.C., stated that Phil’s forecasts are, on average, inaccurate. According to the center, “The groundhog has shown no talent for predicting the arrival of spring, especially in recent years. Phil’s competitor groundhogs across the nation fared no better.” I think, though, that even meteorologists and the National Climatic Data Center with all their computers and weather models have their share of poor forecasting. They always apologize and blame the vagaries of wind and strange fronts, but wrong they were regardless. Mrs. G., the Massachusetts state groundhog, has, unlike Phil, predicted an early spring. I’m going with her.
I swear the male gold finches are getting brighter. A green shoot, albeit a tiny green shoot, has appeared in my front garden. These are the first tangible signs spring is coming. We just have to survive February which I always think of it as the last winter month. I know March can be cold and even snowy, but to me it is early spring as my garden starts to come alive and drags me along with it.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 44˚, 6 more weeks of winter, cloudy but bright, Ghana, groundhog day, Mrs. G, National Climatic Data Center, Phil, spring, temperature in Bolgatanga, warm day, weather
Comments: 22 Comments
January 25, 2014
We are in the middle of a heat wave. It may even reach 40˚ today which sounds like deck weather, the time to start on a summer tan. I am tired of being pasty white with winter written all over my face, but we have no sun or blue sky; instead, we have a grey sky, the possibility of rain and a wind advisory. The dead leaves are being blown and the branches are swaying. What a waste of warm weather.
We had a wonderful evening last night. We reminisced about Ghana and told funny stories about each other. We talked about riding our motorcycles around town and in the bush, and how we met up with a man who cursed us for not giving him money and how Bill’s motorcycle stopped dead just as we were leaving. No curse though-the bike eventually started. Dinner was my curry, and Peg brought hummus, brownies and her own hot fudge sauce. For breakfast we had the blueberry muffins she also brought. They are now my favorite guests.
Today we have a craft fair then a ride around the Cape. Bill has never been here before so I wish we had the sun so he could see the cape in all its beauty with the light reflected off the water and in the marshes. I will take him down 6A, about the prettiest road around. I can be a great tour guide. I’ll tote my camera so I can post a few Cape pictures.
It is a short entry this morning as I am the only one yet dressed, and we’re shortly hitting the road. I’ll be back to post some music this afternoon. I promise!
Categories: Musings
Tags: cape cod, Curry, Ghana, heat spell, motorcycles, tour guide, Wind advisory
Comments: 16 Comments
January 23, 2014
The blizzard did not live up to its hype. The Cape Cod Times reports this morning we have 7 or 8 inches of snow here in Dennis though it looks like more in some places because of the drifting. My car had very little snow on it, but my back step had so much snow Gracie chose to jump over it rather than step into the drift, but she had no problem going down the stairs into the backyard as the snow wasn’t too high for her. Today is sunny and cold with a temperature around 19˚. Tonight will be in the single digits, but by Saturday it will be in the 30’s. Maybe I’ll even sit on the deck and catch the sun. I’d have to shovel first of course.
This is only our second snow storm so I suppose complaints aren’t warranted, but I hate how cold it is and how cold it has been from all those incursions by the polar region. Given a choice, though, I choose being cold over being hot. When it’s hot, there are only a few ways to get cooler, excluding central air of course. You can sit in front of a fan going full blast, take cold showers or go swimming, a temporary reprieve at best. But when you’re cold, you can bundle up, snuggle under a down comforter, layer or just stay in the warm house with the heat cranking. It is just so much easier to get warm.
When I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Ghana, the heat in the Upper Region was interminable this time of year. I’d sit in my living room reading, and when I’d stand up, my sweaty imprint would be on the chair cushions like the chalk outline of the victim at a murder scene. I had no fan so a cold shower was my only way to beat the heat. I’d take one just before bed, not dry off, go inside to sleep and let the air dry me, sort of my own cooling system. Most times I could fall asleep. During the day, though, I lived in a condition of perpetual sweat whenever I did anything. It wasn’t pretty.
I’ll complain about the cold now and in August I’ll complain about the heat. That seems to be part of the human condition, the complaining I mean.
Categories: Musings
Tags: blizzard, bundle, central air, cold, cold versus heat, cozy, drifts of snow, fan, Ghana, layer, Peace Corps, single digit, Snow
Comments: 16 Comments
October 11, 2013
Today is cloudy with a chance of rain. We have been and will be in the 60’s the whole of the week. This is fall.
I never learned to play the piano though I took lessons for a short time when I was in the second grade. A nun was my teacher, and I used to walk across the street to one end of the convent for lessons. But because we didn’t have a piano, I could never practice. The nun suggested I might want to explore other interests. I figure she must have told me delicately as my psyche remained unscathed. I never did try another instrument, and a year later my singing career ended when the nun told me to lip sing. I became a listener of music instead of a participant. I have never been disappointed.
I have the soul of a wanderer. Even since I was really young, books of faraway places held my imagination. When I was eleven, I vowed to travel the world. I knew I’d go to South American, the Sahara Desert, markets in African and places where not a soul spoke English. I was never afraid but self-assured. I knew what I was meant to do.
During my senior year in college, I pursued a few different future avenues. I applied to law school and got accepted, and I was even offered a teaching job, but neither of those fit where I saw myself in the future. They were too staid, floating too much in the mainstream. I applied to the Peace Corps in October. That’s how soon I knew what I wanted to do. Where I went wasn’t important. It was the going that counted. That I ended up in Africa was like a dream, a wish come true. After all these years, my heart is still filled with a love for Ghana, for its people, its sounds and smells, its sights and amazing colors. My old vow, my promise, the one I made when I was eleven has been fulfilled not only in Ghana but also in so many other places.
I have always been an idealist. I consider it one of my best traits. I took tap dancing lessons a while back. I’m still filled with dreams.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Africa, fulfilling a dream, Ghana, Peace Corps, piano playing, poor singing voice, promise of an eleven year old, soul of a wanderer, tap dancing, the going counts, travle the world
Comments: 17 Comments
September 15, 2013
Fall weather has settled in for the duration. The days are pleasant, the nights cool, even cold. In the morning, the house is still night cold so we go outside in the sun on the deck to get warm. When I last went outside, Gracie was lying in the sun on the lounge chair.
Last week was busy for me with something every day. I drove over 400 miles. I wasn’t happy. Considering I usually drive between 20 and 40 miles a week you can understand why. I like my sloth days, and I haven’t had one in a while. This coming week four days are already booked so I’m keeping the rest of my week’s dance card empty.
My friends have already landed in Ghana and are probably at their B&B. I wished them a safe and wonderful trip through teeth gritted with envy. Their plans aren’t solidified. Bill said they’d be leaving Accra in three days for parts unknown though I know Bolga will be on the list. He said they hadn’t yet made hotel reservations anywhere. I chuckled to myself. Who makes reservations in Ghana? Up country has plenty of hotels and not a lot of tourists.
Most people I know who visit other countries do so in places with flush toilets, hot water and air conditioning. The very thought of aiming at a hole in the ground is horrifying to them. Good aim is the difference between a tourist and a traveler. I have stayed in absolutely gorgeous hotels and in some of the seediest places you can imagine. Once I stayed at a brothel. I didn’t know it was until all the knocking on doors and all the men doing the knocking. I didn’t sleep much that night. In a small hotel in Columbia, I swear you came out of the bathroom dirtier than when you went in. The hotel at the Iguazu Falls was pure luxury. It was right at the falls and had huge rooms and amazing food. There was a garden walk with parrots in the trees. There was even a casino. It was not my usual hotel. In Lomé, Togo I spent two nights at a wonderful hotel as a treat for myself before I moved over the Peace Corps Hostel. The hotel had air-conditioning and hot water and a delicious breakfast. It’s where I ate barbecued lobster on the terrace. The hostel had bunk beds.
On my first trip back to Ghana we stopped at a roadside chop bar (restaurant sort of) for fufu. I had to go the bathroom so I walked around the corner wall to the hole in the ground. My aim wasn’t as good as it used to be, but it got better the longer we traveled. By the time I left, it was perfect.
Categories: Musings
Tags: busy weeks, cold nights, cool mornings, fall days, Ghana, good aim, hole in the ground bathroom, luxury, seedy hotels, sloth days, traveler or tourist, traveling back to Bolga
Comments: 12 Comments
September 13, 2013
The rain started when I was sleeping but wasn’t unexpected. It is still raining but hardly, only drop by drop slowly, and I can hear the drops falling on the umbrella. The day has a calmness about it despite the rain. The house is dark and quiet. Today is a favorite sort of day.
Yesterday Gracie had a run-in with a baby spawn which sounds a bit redundant so maybe spawnette would be a better word. Anyway, I heard a bit of a commotion and went into the yard. Gracie had the spawnette running through and around her legs. It was the safest place, a spot where Gracie couldn’t get at it. Gracie kept trying but wasn’t too successful. Finally the creature started to run and the paw got it, sort of flattened the spawn which then ran between Gracie’s legs again. It tried running away a few times but each time Gracie got it. I yelled for Gracie to come, and, as usual, Gracie ignored me. Here’s the irony: I used the hose on Gracie who ran. The spawn went underneath the outdoor shower for safety. I went into the house: mission accomplished. A bit later Gracie came in: her nose and mouth were covered in dirt. I knew she’d been digging. Sure as heck she’d dug a hole under the shower. I didn’t find a dead spawn so it must have gotten away. Much to her consternation, I washed Gracie’s face and cleaned her mouth.
The dry season in northern Ghana lasted half the year. We used to check out the morning sky and say it looked like rain, knowing we had months before it would rain again. The water was often turned off for two or three days most weeks, but we usually knew in advance so we filled our metal buckets with water and lined them up against the wall in the shower room. We also filled every water bottle. At night I’d take a bucket bath and then use the remaining water to flush the toilet. Without water, the grasses turned brown and the soil became dust. Any traveling meant dust in you mouth and all over your body and your clothes. Mammy lorries traveling on laterite roads were followed by dust clouds. I always thought of the old west and stagecoaches when I saw dust billowing behind the lorries.
I loved the start of the rainy season when the storms were most dramatic with thunder shaking the house and lightning bolts hitting the ground where you could see them. I loved the rain when it fell in Bolga.
Categories: Musings
Tags: baby spawn of Satan, bucket bath, dark and calm, dog the hole digger, dramatic storms, drops on the umbrella, dry season, Ghana, Gracie and the squirrel, hosed down, rain, rainy season
Comments: 22 Comments
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