The Green Turtle Lodge

Our trip to Kakum and the rope walk through the rain-forest failed, because, well it was too rainy. So we headed to the beach a day earlier than planned. The series of tro-tros we took to get there work incredibly well--and of course we kept eating Fanmilk along the way (Ghana's street ice cream...sooooo good!). A guy even gave us a free ride in his car between car-parks once! I heart Ghana.

It was also raining on the beach, but that didn't stop us from enjoying cocktails and games of cards or dictionary and even some soppy tai qi on the beach. The sun came out on the third day and we got some great body-surfing in. And a sand castle built. Good times. The food was so delicious--tuna salad, red red, chunky chips with real ketchup. Ah! Brie kept saying, "Let's never leave."

The toilets decompose themselves and you shower in a banana grove. There was beach volley ball and beach walking and Mia the huge German shepherd who would chase sand balls. Clearly born and raised on the beach. Aside from the HUGE spider-eating spider we saw, I'd bring my parents here it was so nice!

Everything's Going so well!

The first morning, I woke up to an ambulance siren in Accra, Doppler-effecting into the window of our dorm room in the Salvation Army Hostel. It's a different world here. Everything is paved. Ghanaians are super nice and helpful even if sometimes I can't understand their English.

Still, the bus ride. Whew. LONG. Van from Sevare to Kora, Mali was interesting with entertainment provided by 3 students and one talk-a-lot moron (I quote: "Transubstantiation is the language of drunkards"...riiiight...and "Kilogram is weight and kilometer is distance, you can't say there are 15kilos left of the trip"...they were discussing everything from mundanity to religion to politics). Plus they dubbed James "Monsieur President" because he is a Toure and so is ATT. We got the last 4 seats on that van and arrived in Kora with perfectly enough time to eat some lunch and get the van for Ouahigouya, Burkina; and, there we ate delicious spaghetti and hopped right onto the bus to Ouaga. Brie and kept exclaiming "Everything is going so well!!" Moulin Rouge style. We weren't cursing it; really! Not possible. We were headed to Ghana and everything is better, in, Ghana.



So sure, with flooding we had to get out and ford the "river" of a washed-out road, but generally no mishaps. Or maybe I am just numb to transport issues now?



Really, I can't believe how many times I've said I am moving to Accra. Seriously, I'll consider it an option for future development work.



Sunday we went to El Mina (derived from the Portuguese for "mine" and the gold mined there) to see the fishing community and the slave fort. Really wretched what humans can do to each other. The governor of the fort (Dutch) had a staircase from the female quarters for rape-access. He'd pick his favorite from the balcony and have her sent up. The balcony from where you could see the first Roman-Catholic church in W.Africa (the fort and church were built by the Portuguese in 1482--which makes it the oldest European structure still standing in Sub-Saharan Africa). I don't think Christians have always faithfully practised the greatest commandment of them all...standing in the "room of no return" where slaves were shuffled through onto boats to the New World we said "never again" and had a moment of silence.

***

El Mina the town gave us a flavour of coastal life--fisherman and their boats, animist fetish houses, a Dutch cemetery (one governor was murdered and buried there in 1808), St. Jago fort and the slave fort. Oh, and men, naked, shitting on the beach. Yes...coastal life. We also saw well dressed men and women (it was Sunday) and polite children. Stumpy goats tried to steal part of my RedRed (beans and plantains). There were various church services going on and much singing, drumming, and clapping of hands throughout town.

In general, I loved the fashion in Ghana. Fitted suits of pagne fabric and shiny basin completes--but pants for women too! It seemed to be a more open/free culture. The "Use a Condom" billboard in Accra for example where the message was spelled out in stick figures of people in well, various positions.

We came upon a dance rehearsal of sorts in Accra at a small beach-side bar, which made me jealous of the clearly more richer music and dance culture. I guess it is just too hot in Gao. I repeatedly asked myself during the trip, is it the Christianity? The English? Or, what did the French do to Mali? Though really it is probably just a question of climate and resources.

This Month Jojo brings you the column “Ask Confucius”

Because we all need a little more Confucian guidance in our lives. And let’s face it guys, China is going to take over the world. We may as well start learning how they think. Next issue, don’t miss “Chairman Mao Comes to Gao.”

Betrayed in Bagoundié asks: “Confucius, that little shit of a garibou took my plate of beans and rice before I was even finished. Is hunting him down and demanding penance a good idea?”
Confucius say: “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

Malodorous Ménakite asks: “Confucius, I am just sick and tired of smelling my own sweat, what can I do?”
Confucius say: “Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it.”

Faux-pas Fearing in Fafa asks: “Last night, my jatigi yelled at me for eating with my left hand—but I had a bandaged cut on the right!! I just can’t get over the faux pas I committed, can you help?”
Confucius say: “Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes.”

Blasphemous in Bara asks: “I was mimicking the call to prayer yesterday from my courtyard and someone overheard. It’s just so darn catchy. Was that wrong of me?”
Confucius say: “I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.”

Gorging in Gao asks: “Salty rice just really doesn’t do it for me and I have gotten into the habit of going to the chicken lady every night for dinner. But now, to quote a dear APCD of ours, ‘Les volontaires sont broke!’ What should I do now?
Confucius say: “He who will not economize will have to agonize.”

Harmed in Haousa-Foulane asks: “On the road to site, the blasted bush taxi window shattered and shards of glass embedded themselves into my hand. I want to march over to the driver’s house and demand recompense. Is this too drastic?
Confucius say: “Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses.”

Doubting in Douentza asks: “I went to have my fortune told, but all the old woman read from the cowrie shells was that I had ‘two minds,’ had to give some alfinta to a garibou, slaughter a white chicken, and go on a trip. This is all bunk! I really want to know what’s in my stars, how?”
Confucius say: “Study the past if you would define the future.”

Afraid in Ansongo asks: “The recent abductions in Niger and violence in Ménaka have me spooked. What advice can you offer to console?”
Confucius say: “The superior man, when resting in safety, does not forget that danger may come. When in a state of security he does not forget the possibility of ruin. When all is orderly, he does not forget that disorder may come. Thus his person is not endangered, and his States and all their clans are preserved.”

Grossed-out in Gossi asks: “What is with the way people eat fish here? All spitting of bones and eating of eyeballs and gills…why am I so disgusted?”
Confucius say: “Men's natures are alike, it is their habits that carry them far apart.”

Tossing in the Towel in Tashran asks: “The emotional roller-coast ride of my service is nauseating; I’m this close to ETing. Any words of advice?”
Confucius say: “They must often change who would be constant in happiness or wisdom.”

Teased in Tchintchinomé asks: “This morning was the last time anyone calls me an Anasara or Tubob. When will the name-calling end??
Confucius say: “He for whom neither slander does gradually soak into the mind, nor statements that startle like a wound in the flesh, are successful and may be called intelligent indeed.”

Linguistically-challenged in Léléhoye asks: “I’m jealous of my teammates’ ability with the local language. Help please?”
Confucius say: “Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true virtue.”

Lagging-behind in Labbezanga asks: “Can the bus take any longer? I swear they were being extra-godly and stopped to pray doubly as often! Why is transport so damn frustrating?
Confucius say: “It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.”

Offensive in Ouatagouna asks: “So, I kinda ended up peeing in a mosque the other day. But I swear, I didn’t know! Is Allah a forgiving god?”
Confucius say: “Ignorance is the night of the mind, but a night without moon and star.”

**Note: Any association between localities used above and the life of the PCV found there is purely coincidental. Forgive me, I was amiably achieving alluring alliteration.

Out of place

Aliou has malaria and with 5 children in his house under the age of five, he is a bit exhausted.

I worry about Zubba and the new baby too; she seems too tired to feed him, and often I pick him up to quiet him and let him suck on my finger.

It's funny how they don't like letting me help out around the house, but I am insistent now and trying to occupy Bebe and get water.

No matter the place I feel I have established in the family, I felt awful after the baptism because 1) I didn't sleep at all due to mosquitoes and noise 2) there was no water to bathe with, so once I did get dressed in my complete I still felt icky. Then Aliou told me I have to go back inside the house with the women--I couldn't sit with the men. Of course, Zubba told me I was doing the benedictions wrong. The baby, once his head was shaved and kohl applied to his eyes (and even a cross on his head to fend off the evil eye) was named Mohammed. Surprise! Ha. The women didn't want me eating with them, and instead put me in the back room to eat by myself. I ate both pieces of bread they gave me and then Zubba complained I had eaten too much. I really feel I cannot do anything right.

Respect Gender Identity!

The volunteers of Gao joke how because we can't seem to consider the dog a girl (she IS named Reagan) and the cat a boy (he had been thought as a female since birth), we need to work on respecting gender identity. I feel the same about how the Malians consider me!

I am reading the old testament...very slowly, but it'll come. And find it interesting how outdated things like "women should not wear male clothing" are. Not so outdated here where the gender lines aren't so blurred...Just the other day I was napping at Zubba's and a friend of hers asks if I were male or female. Sure I was wearing pants and a button down shirt--but really?

This morning I was coming back from the hospital having changed into pants from a skirt to make biking easier, and my new favorite fried-food lady asked why I wasn't in a pagne and musor. I replied, I am still American no matter what. I can't bike in a complete anyway! Kids often greet me with "Bonjour Monsieur!" when I wear pants. I sought solace in my house and slept.

This is Bébé

She is two years-old. She loves eating powdered milk right out of the package and peanuts. She likes to fly. If you tell her to spit when she is crying, as soon as you take the "spit" and throw it away she will stop fussing. Whenever I come over, she is reminded of the white people in her life; if my teammate is ever gone, she demands where he is. "Man Ali go?" I usually have to say he is coming, even if he isn't coming for another few days. She is now the owner of a fluffy stuffed-animal cat who she thinks is real.

She is known to sing about how camels move (they go "taley-taley") and screams out "walia! walia!" every time a heron-like bird flies over. When a garibou beggar-child comes to the door she yells out the blessing "Irkoy ma doonandi" (May God get you used to it--really, this is what you say to people who beg. It's like they pity your suffering but know there is little they can do to help. We all got problems).

When she became a big sister, she ran to greet her mother, just coming back from the hospital. "Eh, mother, what's this? My little brother, or what?" She incredibly observant for her age, saying things like, "Mother, your breast is gross." (The new mom has an infection sadly and I hope her husband can get a goat to supplement her lack of breast milk). Or when she picks up the bottle of baby powder, she exclaims "Look mom, there are children like me!" (French baby powder, so I chuckled that the kids were white, but maybe kids here are metaphorically color blind?)

Clearly, she loves the "baby" act now that she has to be the big sister. Often she'll just cry and cry until she gets what she wants. Nice cultural exchange when I tried to explain the phrase "terrible twos" in Sonrai.

Basically I am thankful to have this little doll of a two year-old in my life, and I so wish my teammate or me could actually take her back to the states like they all hope we will.

New Baby

Passed by the hospital this morning only to greet. I spent the rest of the morning contemplating animations but not actually writing anything. Slept. A lot.

In the evening I went over to Aliou and Zubba's where she told Aliou she wanted to go to the hospital. He didn't hear her properly and there in-house help goes, "Eh, what now?" Laughing. I went home because a storm was approaching, and was bummed I couldn't go assist.

The next morning I met Zubba and new baby boy (a healthy 3kg500g) at the hospital. Surprisingly, this was the first time I extensively held a newborn here. They joked how he was the same color as me. A little Anasara. He was heavy! I guess I am so used to itty-bitties. Zubba complained how there had been not net to tie up and spent the night swatting mosquitoes. Great. Zubba asked me to name the baby, but of course the name I gave "Joshua Charles" was "too hard to say!!!" So instead I told them to name him after Aliou's father so he would have the nickname "Papa." Cute.

Met the women at the sewing center where we actually started lessons on some old pagnes they brought. Not much sewing per se, just threading the machine and stitches and hand cranking. It was uncomfortable sitting on the mat--but I was glad they had actually bought a mat, a cannery, and a broom. Baby steps...baby steps.

Got a little frustrated when we were chatting casually after the sewing lesson about why I am not going to marry a Malian. I tried to explain the history of race relations in America and how it doesn't work in our culture to just decide you want to marry a type of person--it is the actual person you meet and fall for who matters! (I always get bugged by the question "Can you tell me your American girl-friends about me? I want to marry one of them.")

Zubba helped me through some of my frustration. Why do people see me as a racist just because I don't want a Malian husband? They don't see that I have clearly come here to help--volunteering precious years of my life to serve--rather my rejection of Malian men is because I don't like the color of their skin. Zubba explained it is not all about skin color but more that they see a single woman like myself as unclean until I marry off. Right.

Got some baby time--good for me he doesn't like to be set down, so he napped in my arms for a large part of the afternoon. Good thing too cause Zubba is exhausted and still ill. Somehow I had magically hoped with delivery her health would drastically improve. Alas.