In relationships, do you tend to think with your head or with your heart?

Which is better?

How Do You Pronounce Chic?

The president of the orphanage where I used to work invited me to a posh beach party this weekend; she was attending to schmooze with potential donors. I was told to wear frock, which she defined as being British for “chic, top Ibiza style, beach party evening gown. Sexy is good.”

That scared me. Clearly this woman didn’t know who she was dealing with. I used my slow, slow internet connection at work to Google “Ibiza fashion” and pondered how “beach party” could be used as an adjective for “evening gown.” I rounded up everything I have, raided friends’ closets, and still planned on being left behind at the hotel because I wasn’t stylish enough.

I settled on a purple sparkly tube top (½ of an evening gown) and black, flow-y, cotton pants (the beach part). The party was being thrown by the Lebanese-Brazilian owner of White Sands, a beach resort about 2 hours outside Accra. His chef was on one of his twice annual visits to Ghana from some small exotic island on the other side of Africa.

We arrived not long past 8pm; though Lisa may be a fashion expert (she used to be an editor of Vogue Spain and a model herself), she’s been living in an orphanage too long to know that’s incredibly, almost embarrassingly, early to show up to a party. We rolled in when it was mostly just family and close, close friends hanging out, still pre-showered and dressed. But at least we were there early enough to see the lawn catch on fire and a grown man grab hold of a table leg and beg as his two brothers tried to throw him in the water (retaliation for him picking on his nephew).

I was shocked to see this guy: the spitting image of the love I’d left behind in Egypt. Personality-wise, they were also similar: quick to smile, easy to laugh, always in good humor. Sunday, we built sand castles with some kids and for the first time ever I was attracted by the thought, “He’d make a good father!“ Why must the universe torture me so?!

The party was great fun, though the gourmet food wasn’t served till late and I left before everyone got thrown into the pool. There were a lot of great, inspiring married couples at the party and I got to practice a bit of Arabic (they were mostly Lebanese who have been in Ghana for a couple of generations…there are more Lebanese living outside Lebanon than inside and soon Brazil’s population of Lebanese will surpass the population of Lebanon!). These people were rich, but they didn’t act it. They were friendly and funny (rivaling the Egyptians in their humor, in fact!) and welcoming. I want to be a part of that family!

I was even wearing the right clothes. And if I hadn't, they wouldn't have cared.

Work in Progress

see more painting pictures on Jane's blog, www.journeyofjane.blogspot.com.

(Gee, having her blog to refer you to saves me a lot of work!)

NEW

I’ve survived my first week back to a 8-4:30 job, and I even went in early and stayed late a couple of times (great for me because we get comp time--every extra hour worked goes to more vacation time!). We’re in the middle of a ‘circuit ride’ here in Ghana, which means we’re processing refugees by doing a series of three interviews in preparation for their interviews with immigration officers (DHS/formerly INS) who make the decision if they get to come to the US. Basically, I’m a glorified form filler, paper pusher, private investigator, genealogist, social worker. I should get to travel around West Africa for circuit rides, though there don’t seem to be as many planned in the near future as I would like…I hope to travel abroad once before Christmas…(that’s when you can really get lots of comp time!)

Each day, Jane and I are on the lookout for something new that we’ve never seen before. Jane has reported an albino rooster, a soccer match in Ghana at the stadium, a peacock (I forget what else).

I saw an old woman dressed nicely walking down a busy street barefoot; her shoes were balanced on the top of her head.

I saw a fight take place in a parking lot yesterday. A man was yelling at a woman because she brought a couple of friends with her when he invited her out; they just wanted to ‘spend his money’ (because culturally he’d be expected to pay, even for the friends she brought). The man chased her around the parking lot; she hid behind some other men she didn’t know. When she dropped a plastic bag with some clothes in it, the man picked it up and threw it into the air. He even grabbed a rock, as if he was going to hit the woman with it. Finally, another man ‘took the fight’ and started to yell at him for his behavior and for trying to beat the woman. I stood around and watched, like all the Ghanaians who happened to be passing by.

I saw a shopping mall in Ghana (didn’t even know they existed) and two free range turkeys in Osu (to keep with Jane‘s bird theme). I rode in a taxi with A/C and electric windows (and a great driver). I tasted a ginger drink, fiery hot from the local gin called apeteshi that is mixed with it. I learned to play canasta.

Jane and I bought paint on Saturday. After six months in this house, the lime green (or is it chartreuse?) walls I liked so much in the beginning have got to go. Jane has described the hideous yellow color on her walls as “the outside part of a hard boiled egg yolk, before the yolk has been broken open.” You know, it’s kind of greenish, but yellow. All the trim in the house is bright yellow. My walls are…sea green blue? Turquoise? I’ll wait to paint them till another time. Painting will do plenty for our mental sanity. If only we could also make our bar downstairs stop with the live music…but since it’s been going on for at least 20 years, I doubt that’ll happen. (Instead, we’ll have to look for friends’ couches and extra beds to crash on weekly, like we did this past Thursday).

Our roommate Rachel is left on Sunday. She moved in right after I left for my travels, so though she’s lived in this house for roughly two months, I’ve only been around for about two weeks of that time. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time to bond! The new roommate is likely to be her French Canadian photo journalist colleague at Journalists for Human Rights. I’ve never met him, but word on the street is that he‘s ‘dreamy.’

I went bowling on Saturday night. That was a first in Ghana. I scored a 94, then a 60. The high score after five people played two games each was Jane’s 106. Pathetic. But we’ll undoubtedly improve because we became Gold Card Members at the bowling alley for the next year! Just after signing up, three of us were blessed with strikes. There’s no where to go but up.



FROM TWO GOOD BOOKS ABOUT WEST AFRICA

“‘Still trying to find your way around Sierra Leone with a map of Indiana?’ asked Killigan.”
White Man’s Grave, by Richard Dooling

“People ask me now, ‘What was Africa like?’ I tell them that the place I came to know is laughing yet troubled, strong yet crippled, and dancing. Africa was like nothing I had known before, until I knew it better.”
Nine Hills to Nambonkaha, by Sarah Erdman

Back

Yesterday was a Good Ghana Day.

Jane and I went to Melcom’s, Ghana’s closest approximation of a department store, but the whole system of purchasing is typically ridiculous. You decide what you want, tell a nearby employee, who then writes the item and price on a piece of paper and holds the item for you till you return with a paid receipt. That means you wander around the store collecting these papers. Then you go and pay, wander back around the store collecting your items, only THEN will you get your plastic bags to put everything in as the woman checks your receipt again.

But it’s more fun than that--there’s the customer service dimension. The women working there seemed annoyed that anyone should want to buy something, which would mean they would have to do something. Our inquiry about the difference between two irons was met with an arbitrary “buy this one.” “Why?” “Buy this one!”

Frying pans and coffee mugs were upstairs. We selected the ones we wanted, but upon bagging the items, Jane accused me of not picking out good mugs because the inside bottoms were chipped or damaged. I had focused my attention on the outside of the mugs, but was surprised I’d overlooked such obvious defects. Jane ran upstairs to exchange the mugs. The woman working there then acknowledged that these other ones were the ones we’d set aside--she had intentionally switched them for bad ones!!!

We bought 2 hot pink bedside lamps, 2 frying pans with lids, an iron (aren‘t you proud, Mom?!), 2 extension cords and 3 mugs, all for $28!

Next, we went to The Orangery, a restaurant in the same neighborhood that we’d been meaning to check out. I finally managed to have pumpkin soup and it was even served with fresh, hot bread! Roast chicken with herbs and boiled potatoes and veggies. Hmmmmmm.

In the afternoon, we went with another friend to Labadi Beach to play some volleyball. We didn’t manage much in the way of good rallies, so we threw the ball aside and went for a run on the beach (making a game of counting the number of black, plastic bags and dodging syringes and used condoms). This is the first athletic thing I’ve done in the past 9 months and my body is reminding me of that today!

From the beach, we took a tro-tro home. At the corner where I live, I saw a man peddling some clothes. (People walk around with things thrown over their arms, shoulders, or balanced on their head…roving boutique stores.) Like a raven, the sparkles and glittery red on his elbow caught my eye. It was a dress perfect for our planned Halloween Murder Mystery Dinner. I got it for 10,000 cedis, which is a little more than a dollar. I wasn’t sure it would fit, but figured I could make it work for me somehow. It fit like a glove, which means I get to be the slutty character in the play! It matches perfectly the beaded Cleopatra hat that a friend in Dahab gave me, also especially for the 1920s themed party. I’ve never before gotten a costume two months early and for so cheap!

Next up was Epo Spot, a local ‘spot’ (outdoor, chill bar) where we discovered really good ‘spaghetti’ (really it’s chow mein noodles and veggies) for a good price and played pool with some regulars. The Ghanaians schooled us the first time--the table and ball were smaller than usual and the green felt was behaving like sand, so that I couldn’t even hit the ball all the way down the table. In our second attempt, Jane made significant improvements and we lost by only one ball, but I continued to stink. We decided that we will become regulars there ourselves (and then use our influence to improve their choice of music!).

(Speaking of music, our backyard bar seems to have revived their Tuesday night live music…a fact I am not cartwheel in’ about. Thursdays were bad enough!)

All in all, it was a day spent out and about that made me remember why I’m Gone to Ghana.

Felucca

Musafiri.

Mahmoud, Abdihakim, Hassan, Rashid.

For Manon

Fishes.
Sherif. No surfboard travels involved, just some surprise clay pigeon shooting practice.

Dye Hair!

Dahab

On a camel, at dinner, even underwater, Jane was Always Texting.

No Name Restaurant with Jane's dive instructor, Mouse.

I lost our bet about whether Egyptians were more likely to say "shade" or "shadow." Don't worry, it's just henna.

The Reason I Didn't Want To Leave Egypt

When I was leaving Egypt, I had the anxious, agitated feeling I get when I leave home, family, someone I love (like before moving to Malaysia or Ghana). It’s not about where I’m going, but the place I’m leaving and the people left behind.

At the airport, I was a bawling mess, but, luckily, I had Jane to take my passport, check me in, fill out my immigration form for me, and lead me to our gate.

Back in Ghana, I no longer feel this is home. Maybe that feeling will come back; I hope so, I need to live in the here and now. I’ve been sleeping a lot and hiding in the house the past few days . When I did go out, it was with a bunch of expats, which I’ve never found particularly appealing...

I start my job with the refugee resettlement organization in a week’s time. Finally! I’m hoping that will bring me salvation.

I Know Exactly What He's Talking About

from Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris, “The Learning Curve”

I then took to wheeling in a big color television so that we might spend an hour watching One Life to Live. This was back when Victoria Buchanan passed out at her twentieth high-school reunion and came to remembering that rather than graduating with the rest of her class, she had instead hitchhiked to New York City, where she’d coupled with a hippie and given birth to a long-lost daughter. It sounds far-fetched, but like a roast forsaken in the oven or a rescheduled dental appointment, childbirth is one of those minor details that tends to slip the minds of most soap opera characters. It’s a personality trait you’ve just got to accept.

On General Hospital or Guiding Light a similar story might come off as trite or even laughable. This, though, was One Life to Live, and no one could suddenly recall the birth of a child quite like Erika Slezak, who played both Victoria Buchanan and her alternate personality, Nicole Smith…

The students were to watch an episode and write what I referred to as a “guessay,” a brief prediction of what might take place the following day.

“Remember that this is not Port Charles or Pine Valley,” I said. “This is Llanview, Pennsylvania, and we’re talking about the Buchanan family.”

It actually wasn’t a bad little assignment. While the dialogue occasionally falters, you have to admire daytime dramas for their remarkable attention to plot. Yes, there were always the predictable kidnappings and summer love triangles, but a good show could always surprise you with something as simple as the discovery of an underground city…

I thought I’d effectively conveyed the seriousness of the assignment. I thought that in my own way I had actually taught them something, so I was angry when their papers included such predictions as “the long-lost daughter turns out to be a vampire” and “the next day Vicki chokes to death while eating a submarine sandwich,” The vampire business smacked of Dark Shadows reruns, and I refused to take it seriously. But choking to death on a sandwich, that was an insult. Victoria was a Buchanan and would never duck into a sub shop, much less choke to death in a single episode. Especially on a Wednesday. Nobody dies on a Wednesday--hadn’t these people learned anything?

From the Egyptian Gazette Crossword Puzzle

Jane and I read this on the plane, while suffering from delirium brought on by lack of sleep, and couldn't stop laughing.

ACROSS

5. Gnome turned and escorted to departure.
15. Wader rescued from water gently returned.
18. Haven offering nothing in the circumstances.
20. Poor start by lad confused at first.
23. Mean to have job in Billingsgate--only one left.
25. Drink gives urge to go mad.
26. Learner in chemistry’s so-so--resolves to like teacher.

DOWN

3. Drunken sot collected by man in white coat.
4. Eager male chasing rodent.
8. Minor champ gets to run around a little.
14. Opera makes room for experimenting with love motif that’s timeless.
21. Snacks upset Roy’s gut.