Kelewele Junction: May 2005

Whoever invented contemporary christian rock deserves severe punishment in the hereafter. I'm not saying fire, but something more satisfyingly terrible like the Greeks dreamt up.

Please, please, please bring back the Ga festival ban on drumming and loud, obnoxious music!

Come on Barbie, let's go party! ow ow ow

Oh, it pains me!

Gifts

Rather than de-wormer, my suitor gave me a flowered umbrella, a box of crepes mix, some shortbread biscuits, some crackers, and a car lighter cable thing (that wasn't meant to be in the black plastic bag).

Ah, romance.

How to get rid of it?

Lei

I once spent 12 hours in Romania on a layover.

I went out to explore Bucharest, slept in a theater playing Charlie's Angels, and determined Romanain old people are the cutest old people in the world.

I didn't know I should have changed my Romanian Lei before leaving...I've carried the money around with me for the past 2 years. At each and every international airport I transited, I asked if they changed Lei. No luck.

Italy-Germany-France-HongKong-Malaysia-Thailand-Singapore-Taiwan-Japan-Vietnam-
Laos-Cambodia-LA-San Francisco-London-Chicago-Accra.

Tonight, I managed!

Egyptian Sherif to French Moroccan Yusuf to Romanian Andrian.

Is feeling like you've been punched in the right armpit a sign of some mysterious tropical disease?

Oh Pl Ease

I applied for a position interviewing refugees for resettlement to the US in February when I arrived. I had known about the position since last year, but you had to be in Ghana to apply. I'd had a phone interview for a similar position in Kenya; a conference call interview with two people from Kenya to Malaysia when you can hear your own echo is not conducive to landing the job.

When I applied in February, I was told they wouldn't be hiring till the new fiscal year (Oct) because of financial constraints.

An inside source told me they were in dire need of people now and to resend my resume. She even sent them a recommendation for me.

I had the interview Monday and they told me Thursday I was hired!

I'll start doing paper work and visa procedures next week. This job actually PAYS plenty, gives you health insurance, allows travel for work to Guinea, Gabon, Cameroon, Gambia, maybe the Ivory Coast if things are calm enough there. And you can accumulate lots of vacation time; yay!

OPE (Overseas Processing Entity) is an NGO that is contracted out by the US Deparment of State to help prepare case files for refugee resettlement applicants. I'll be taking testimony with the assistance of interpreters and helping get their documents in order. Same thing as in Cairo, almost. I had been worried about my bleeding heart and feeling like I would somehow not be assisting refugees, but just doing paperwork. But I've since come to realize that I will be advocating more than judging. I'll help prepare the case in the best way possible so that the Dept of State people will allow them resettlement. More on that once I'm actually hired and trained! But I'm feeling good about the situation.

Even though...

When I think of Ghana, I can much more easily name the things I dislike than like. That list will be forthcoming, just to get it all out in the open. That said, I'm not unhappy here. So staying for a year, especially if I'm doing work I like and have a chance to travel (and vacation!), is not a problem. But the sphere in which I exist here is very different from the no-ex-pat-friend situation of Malaysia.

[I just came from the pool and spotted a family that I thought was SE Asian. I strained my ears, but it wasn't until I was almost out the door that I heard "tapi." That's the conjunction "but" in Bahasa. They could have been either Malay or Indonesia. I didn't get a chance to find out! Running into Malaysians (only one here so far) or Egyptians always brightens my days. Will it be the same for Ghanaians once I'm gone?]

A recent boy situation has developed and I'm trying to end it as quickly as it started. That's posing a bit of a challenge.

I just wish I could remind him: No Woman, No Cry.

More on relationships and romance, African style, eventually.

Yesterday's Stars

Daily Flirt:
You've got a burst of social energy that you've got to act on, kind of like an itch you're bound to scratch. See if you can meet a few new sweethearts tonight.

Right.

Names

I've met:

Achievement
Flex
Cool J
Papa J
Landlord
Freeboy
Original
The Rock
Righty
Black Prophet
a guy I thought was called Soul but really it was Saul

I'm told there are also:

Go Slow
Ninja
Stone

Some people have begun to call me Jelly, just like my Alexandrian friends!

Amer Kasa

If a tro-tro doesn't have a picture of Jesus, it has one of this man. But nobody knows who he is.

Or

Everyone has their own theory of who he is.

He graces the back of so many tro-tros. Seated on the ground, right knee drawn up, hugging it. A towel around his neck. Am I falsely placing wrists bands on him because he is oh-so-1980s and so are they? Did he just finish an breakdance session?

As one taxi driver told me, "I don't think he's Ghanaian."

Indian, perhaps. Or Arab. [Do Indians and Arabs count as Obrunis?]

Last night, the search continued.

Our taxi driver, Nathaniel, laughed a good hearted laugh when I said, "Me mau 10,000" to get to Circle. Followed by a "sit down."

Jane posed the question this time. "Driver, who is that man on the back of that tro-tro, on the bottom right."

Laugh. It didn't seem he'd answered. So I, sitting in the front, pointed it out to make sure he saw what we were talking about. Laugh.

I lean out the passenger's window and ask the tro-tro driver beside us if he knows the man on the back of the tro in front of him. Everyone in the tro strains to see what those crazy obrunis are looking at, but no help comes from them. We turn back to our driver, who is....laughing.

We get him to tell us the man's name is Amer.

"Is he an actor? A singer?"

Laugh. It was the behind the nose'n'throat kind of laugh.

"Is that his name? What does he do?"

Laugh.

"Are you just making up his name? Or is that really his name?"

We managed to determine that he said the man's name was Amer because he thought that was also written on the back of the tro.

Only it wasn't.

"Are you stoned? Have you been smoking the marijuana?" (pronouced here with the J in tact)

He assured us he hadn't and didn't, just that he was in a good mood.

Laugh.

We turned to the driver of the taxi beside us at the next stop light.

"Sorry, but do you know who that man is?"

"Kasa," he replied. That was what was written on the middle back of the tro.

"What does he do?" Jane prodded.

"He is a talker."

And the light turned green.

By now we were all laughing. One of the best taxi rides I've had.

Coming soon, a photograph of Mr. Amer Kasa, to see if you can help solve the mystery.

Jambo Rafiki

The Rastaman I met at the Labadi Beach Party last Wednesday said his taxi had "Jambo Rafiki" written on the back of it.

From then on, I checked every taxi I saw, just to see if perhaps I could find it. I figured it was a bit of a needle-in-the-haystack search.

But then, the following Wednesday morning, I found it!

Don't I win a prize?

Shamelessly Stealing

Taken by Jane, posted by Jane, ripped off by Jill

Our living room. I've been sleeping on that couch because my fan is broken and this room gets a nice breeze.

Door on left to Manon's room, living room in middle, Jane's bedroom on right. Spirally staircase just there.

Kitchen, bathroom, my room (left to right).

Wibbil.

I haven't felt compelled to write. And wasn't really sure what to write.

Then today, maybe I would have, but my laptop scren has begun to torment me once again. The screen was periodically going black over the past few weeks. It was supposedly fixed last week, but it's back at it today. So even if maybe I would want to write, or at least share some pictures, I can't.

Just after my 3 month mark in Malaysia, I started traveled around the region. So I had new countries to write about, impressions to give. I'm limited to Ghana these days and haven't even really managed to get out of Accra for a month. I'm at that getting-comfortable-this-isn't-that-different stage. That's when journal-writing can easily be forgotten.

What I need from you is an assignment. What questions should I ponder about life in Ghana? What do you want to know? Understand?

I've been mentally composing an email About A Boy. But each day, the story changes. Now that the story may be over, I realize it would have been more interesting to write about it as it unfolded. Too late.

3 ducks sat in the middle of the road when I got home at midnight last Friday with my roommates. We were awakened the following morning by rain at 6:30 am and all jumped out of bed to close the living room windows in a dreamlike state. I have lots of fabric, but still need a good tailor. I am addicted to the Indian Sunshine Salad Bar. I got a job interview on Monday at the refugee processing entity that I was hoping to work; I'm afraid the timing is all wrong though, since my contract is till the end of July and they want someone asap. I have a plane ticket on reserve for South Africa in August. I was offered a bartending position but don't want to have to sleep all weekend to make up for the late Fri and Sat nights.

Rather than flowers, the boy gave the girl de-worming medicine. Worms have been the hot topic of conversation lately. I hadn't been worried, but after my roommate described waking up 'feeling them moving,' I couldn't help but lie in bed this morning, afraid of what I'd find. Another source says she woke up very hungry, as if her worms had eaten all the food. I just remember that time that our puppies had worms...ewwwwww.

I said something the other day that caught me by surprise only after my roommate raised an eyebrow; it began, "Why did God..." The ending isn't important. It was my off-handed, subconscious reference to God that was out of character. And clearly the result of seeing Jesus on the back of so many tro-tros and little shops called "Not by my strength but by God's grace."

Wibbil, I'm told, is a British response to something that doesn't translate/make sense.

Oh, and I'm not the girl.

The New News

Apartment

In mid-April, my old roommate found out she had to go back to the States the next week for a job interview and didn’t want to pay to keep the place while she was gone; I wasn’t allowed to stay by the landlord because I didn’t have two others to live in that house with me and the single rooms in the compound were already full. Translated into me moving into the small room in Jane’s apartment, a savings of 50%, and a renewed appreciation for indoor plumbing.

For my first 12 days, we had water flowing from the tap for about 12 hours. You have to climb a spiral staircase—it’s painted yellow—to get to our second story apartment. Kofi, a 10- or 12-year-old neighbor boy, reportedly carried a big bucket full of water up the stairs on his head. All for the price of about 50 cents. It’s not that we’re lazy, exactly. But it’s better to give him a job than charity (see Jane’s blog).

The day that the water came back for good (there were a couple of false alarms), the power went out. If forced to choose, I prefer having no water to having no electricity.

My backyard is a bar, which is really only an issue on Thursday, their big night. But we can get in without paying cover, at least, and mingle with the Rastas and obrunis regulars. The other nights aren’t so loud.

I said I’d blog Friday, but it was one of those kind of days. The nearest internet café had power, but the link was down. The other one close by was affected by the same power outage we had at home. It poured for about 30 minutes in the early afternoon, then drizzled; my first Rainy Season Rain. I had to taxi it over to the third internet place, much further from home. They have free wireless at their restaurant, but it’s made Jane sick twice so only bottled beverages for me, thanks! The connection was so slow I accomplished next to nothing. Back home and still no power. As the room slowly darkened, Jane, Manon and I all feel asleep in our lime-green living room, but then individually relocated to our own beds because we were cold. I love the rainy season!

Job

I am now Project Coordinator for Orphanage Africa.

(from the website): OA is a non-profit, non-governmental organisation that aims to support and create self-sufficient, sustainable orphanages in Ghana, Africa, through programmes in sustainable education, technology, farming and general healthcare. OA is bringing hope to children and adolescents that have found themselves, through no fault of their own, in borderline situations. Like millions of others across Africa, they are living in orphanages with little hope for the future…OA aims to ensure education, nutrition, hygiene and health care in orphanages in Ghana using ecologically viable and sustainable techniques: we help them help themselves!

Initially OA developed projects to help make orphanages self-sufficient by individually analysing their acute problems. We designed programmes that focus on permaculture, education, farming, animal farms, healthcare and basic infrastructure. Over time however, OA has drastically extended its approach to encompass the greater community by implementing community outreach programmes such as Well Women’s Centres, HIV prevention, a therapeutic feeding centre, sponsoring extreme medical cases or funding education for 520 children in the community. We believe that by helping families and strengthening the community, we ensure that they can care and provide for their children so that there will be less abandoned or orphaned children in the future. In addition to assisting Ghanaian Orphanages, we also run our own OA Orphanage, specializing in babies and children with acute health problems, HIV/AIDS, or young adults rejected by other orphanages.

My job is basically to coordinate communication between the Europe offices and the departments here while the President/Founder is away to fundraise this summer. One of my biggest jobs is to make what happens here in Ghana real to the donors in Europe by collecting testimonials, pictures, drawings, etc. It means I get to be creative and journalistic-y! I’ll get to travel around to the different orphanages, go on outreach talks, visit the construction site for the new orphanage, etc. The main orphanage is in Ampomah Village, which is about an hour and a half commute by tro-tro from my current apartment. But I only have to go twice a week and will most likely go Tuesdays, spend the night there in the volunteers house, and come back Wednesday afternoon to cut down on the transportation. But I tro-tro’ed it there 3 times last week and it was pretty bearable. I’m becoming quite an expert.

[I’ve realized I’ve come a long way since Egypt—where I never took the tro-tro equivalent. And from Malaysia—where I could barely stand to have a shower without hot water.]

My initial contract is for three months, with the possibility of extending it in August, should I want to. I really like the philosophy of the organization, particularly its holistic approach and outreach programs. In order to stay though, I already know that I’d need a salary increase, since mine currently isn’t enough to cover expenses. I’m supplementing with tutoring jobs with American kids.