<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550</id><updated>2012-04-15T22:40:34.494Z</updated><title type='text'>Megan in Ghana</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;center&gt;Gha-na have A-frikan good time!&lt;/center&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-1061004405471766766</id><published>2009-11-05T13:39:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T13:57:19.824Z</updated><title type='text'>The obstacle course</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Things are changing at site.  A lot.  My position has changed.  A lot.  New ideas and projects are flowing.  We had a great PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) conference in Kumasi (how do you know when you've lived in Africa for too long- when you DON'T use the air conditioning in your fancy hotel), and I'm still trying to fly high off of that.  Hopefully in the next few weeks I'll write about those things.  Right now I need to keep working on being flexible, trying to keep positive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;As for that other big event- I survived the marathon.  Somehow.  Although I think "obstacle course" more aptly describes the adventure.  Running has become my zen.  My path to calmness.  It is a mental challenge more than anything else, and I relish in it.  Who'd have thought?  It can be painful, but at some point you reach The Zone.  And once The Zone hits, you can let go of everything and become completely absorbed.  This is how I've come to manage long distance runs.  This is also how I've come to manage my sanity.  Hitting The Zone on the crazy muddy path between here and Salaga, sprinkled with a few small villages and plenty goats, it's awesome.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In a properly thought out marathon I would venture to guess that most runners hit their Zone.  But when you are running a goddam obstacle course through one of the busiest cities in West Africa it is impossible!  I don't think once did I ever reach The Zone- because for the majority of the time I was focusing on keeping my life.  No roads were blocked off, the course was hardly marked, we were literally running through a maze of crazy Accra traffic, against the wind, starting 2 hours late.  I actually was almost T-boned by a taxi into a tro.  I literally had to turn to the taxi, put my hands on its front side, and scream for it to stop, within about a foot of it slamming me into another car.  People were constantly grabbing at us, screaming at as, demanding money.  The Kenyans, though, were amazing to watch- a study in the beauty of muscle form.  By then end they were just blurs zig-zagging through traffic.  The few moments I did have for my mind to wander were largely spent asking myself why on earth I thought this was a good idea.  The low point?  Being passed by the speed walker.  The high point?  Seeing my friends at the finish line!  It was emotional.  It was amazing.  We were all served serious slices of humble pie.  And I can't wait for the Portland Marathon!  (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://kimmieinghana.wordpress.com/2009/09/28/the-accra-marathon-and-some-other-things/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Kimmie's got a great race report up on her blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; for those who are interested.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SvLYdnygibI/AAAAAAAAAG0/qOl8IbpfXhc/s1600-h/IMG_7986.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SvLYdnygibI/AAAAAAAAAG0/qOl8IbpfXhc/s320/IMG_7986.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400616906579282354" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Crossing the finish line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SvLZV6LFxuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/77GB6DuWg24/s1600-h/before.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SvLZV6LFxuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/77GB6DuWg24/s320/before.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400617873586898658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Us crazies, at I think 3:00am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-1061004405471766766?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/1061004405471766766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=1061004405471766766' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/1061004405471766766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/1061004405471766766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/11/obstacle-course.html' title='The obstacle course'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SvLYdnygibI/AAAAAAAAAG0/qOl8IbpfXhc/s72-c/IMG_7986.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-7229038799640632361</id><published>2009-10-11T07:55:00.016Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:00:28.699Z</updated><title type='text'>Somehow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;This is something my friend &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://chrismartinfurniture.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Chris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; wrote.  These are ideas that we wrestle with a lot over here.  I also hope it can open some interesting courses of dialogue:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"A word you hear quite often maybe too often here is “somehow.” It is used during discussions about the progress of something or the hopes of progress; “The computer lab will be finished by God’s grace…somehow.” “The government will by all means get us the monies they owe us…somehow.” I believe it is more of a disclaimer or optimistic version of “or maybe not.” Sadly too often discussions on progress and development end with “somehow.” (By the way neither has happened yet. It may, somehow…someday.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=fa21b86821421c9ac8de4881a94b9784&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBzh_siLI%2FAAAAAAAAAVE%2FARIHJoAZrtI%2Fs1600-h%2Fscholar%2Bkids%2B3.5.jpg" target="_blank" title="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XLLx34yntfA/StDBzh_siLI/AAAAAAAAAVE/ARIHJoAZrtI/s1600-h/scholar+kids+3.5.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=6018e069a555b440e38070228a82aaee&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBzh_siLI%2FAAAAAAAAAVE%2FARIHJoAZrtI%2Fs320%2Fscholar%2Bkids%2B3.5.jpg" alt="" class="ext_img" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="text-align: left;border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Our hope for the future&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT! Yes but I have swung back into the optimist’s camp and I see hope for things here. Why? Well as often as I hear “somehow,” I hear phrases like “I know” and “We want to do it.” And I hear less and less, “Will you do it for us?” and more “how can we help?” This is a small step but very exciting! Far too long I have stewed in anger after watching Ghanaians accept their place and not hoping for better. I was overlooking the ones who were saying, “Enough already, let’s change things, let’s take control of our destinies.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The major project I am unveiling this year at school is The Campus Pride Initiative. I happened upon its new motto at the first Sunday church service at school this past week. Rev. Kwarteng gave a sermon on making a difference, something the students needed and I really needed. I took a bit of poetic license and have decided the Campus Pride Initiative will have the motto; Effect Positive Change. I hope that it will have an effect on just a few and that effect in turn will go far beyond DASHS. I want these students to have hope, to be the change agents that Ghana so desperately needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=0898861d47a3bbabf4741a809e0a6395&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBy_MpyqI%2FAAAAAAAAAU0%2FPn_Tz-Vbx2w%2Fs1600-h%2F165.5.jpg" target="_blank" title="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XLLx34yntfA/StDBy_MpyqI/AAAAAAAAAU0/Pn_Tz-Vbx2w/s1600-h/165.5.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=80a1cdcf1581ab62cf2e8baf8393e6c3&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBy_MpyqI%2FAAAAAAAAAU0%2FPn_Tz-Vbx2w%2Fs320%2F165.5.jpg" alt="" class="ext_img" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I really want to talk about a couple of stories we heard recently, one on BBC and one on NPR. The BBC story was called “Why is Africa Poor?” and the more Tammi and I listened, the more spot on we felt they were with their observations. As I have said before one of the amazing things about Peace Corps is we are here for over two years which grants us the ability to get a real sense of what is happening in a place though I could never say we can completely understand, our context just does not work here. It is very important to remember this when considering how to “help.” We have seen too often when a well meaning NGO drops in, shells out a bunch of money, maybe puts up a building or two and then leaves without ever spending the time to find out what or where the real need is. I would argue the most important need is “ownership.” People need to be able to say, “I worked for this.” or “I earned that.” These phrases are used far too little here and when they are sadly it is the corrupt politicians and civil servants justifying their chopping (skimming off the top for themselves) of budgets. One of the best lines from the BBC story states, “Africa is not poor, it is poorly managed.” I find this to sadly be so very true. As I see it, we well meaning people and governments of the west have created a continent of aid junkies who believe that someone else will do it for them, and that they will be taken care of no matter what. The heartening thing is that most of the people here we have spoken with realize this and recognize that it isn’t good. But just like drug addiction it isn't that easy to kick the habit especially when western governments and companies continue to profit from the addiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=b4ff1911360eddad5673bf25cecb2449&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDB0QIKSFI%2FAAAAAAAAAVU%2Fn62moEGvyb4%2Fs1600-h%2FThe%2Barmy.jpg" target="_blank" title="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XLLx34yntfA/StDB0QIKSFI/AAAAAAAAAVU/n62moEGvyb4/s1600-h/The+army.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=f03c72bd6c84346e1ea923f25460fcf5&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDB0QIKSFI%2FAAAAAAAAAVU%2Fn62moEGvyb4%2Fs320%2FThe%2Barmy.jpg" alt="" class="ext_img" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ghana's future military...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stay in a region called Afram Plains and I would guess it is about the size of two or three counties in Iowa, around 500 square miles. The US Government under the guise of the Millennium Challenge Account has put almost $250 million into the development of Afram Plains via the Ghanaian Government. After everyone is finished dipping their hands in the jar it is hard to see a single change for the better here. One now sees is a new fleet of pickup trucks with the MCA logo on their doors and a nice new half empty building in Donkorkrom which houses a few of their offices complete with air conditioning throughout! Imagine if 250 million dollars was spent on 3 rural counties in Iowa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway it is very easy to be angry and jaded but I know that there is hope, great hope and I remain angry but not jaded. The folks around here want to see change. They want to see a better future for their children, and they love their country. They simply do not know how to do it or they feel powerless and sadly it breeds complacency. In my humble opinion what they need from us is more Peace Corps or something like it and less throwing of guilt money at the problems. They need assistance, good education and training, and friendship, not more money. We need to oversee/guide not do. We cannot continue to come to the rescue every time someone breaks a nail. Teach them to mend it themselves. For example, I see far too many bits and pieces of perfectly good road machinery lying along the unfinished road from here to Etche because something broke down. And from experience, if something goes wrong the “obruni” (white man) will come and give them a replacement. Why not? After all, we bought the machinery to begin with. If we want to truly help, we need to continue and expand the Peace Corps style model. A model where assistants integrate into the community as much as possible and are make the time to identify what really needs to be done. Then provide assistance. Don’t do it for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=ff8ce7f20d777fcd62a5ff95d6c00420&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBz66LCpI%2FAAAAAAAAAVM%2F98thJPOLsi0%2Fs1600-h%2Fmaybe%2Bnot.jpg" target="_blank" title="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XLLx34yntfA/StDBz66LCpI/AAAAAAAAAVM/98thJPOLsi0/s1600-h/maybe+not.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=4d2bd63791c368946ef66c36bd1bab1c&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBz66LCpI%2FAAAAAAAAAVM%2F98thJPOLsi0%2Fs320%2Fmaybe%2Bnot.jpg" alt="" class="ext_img" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...or maybe not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have come to see the people in my community as friends and family, not a project. And I will very much miss them when we leave in some ten months. I have come to truly care. I go as far as saying I have come to really love these people and I pray for only the best for them. If you want to help, encourage our government to not only continue but enlarge the Peace Corps. And when giving money to any development organization, look closely at how those organizations function. The Peace Corps is not perfect and there is plenty of room for improvement. But I think that when JFK and General Shriver conceived of this brilliant idea almost 50 years ago, they were really on to something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A great challenge for us is that our view of the world is tied to our own context. For instance, how do we define poor? I can say with confidence it is not the same as how Ghanaians would define it. The other night Tammi and I were on a walk and decided to see what was down a trail that went off the main road. We came to a clean attractive little area surrounded by plantain and banana trees and a tidy little mud walled hut with no running water or electricity. There was a friendly woman with her healthy happy children, including one of the more pleasant young ladies I have ever met who attends the JHS just down the road. Are they poor? Why? What more do they need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=b0e4639a25f24f4ea2f9c722f2a8c207&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBzFbR7bI%2FAAAAAAAAAU8%2FyAEu2knN3lk%2Fs1600-h%2F3870.5.jpg" target="_blank" title="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XLLx34yntfA/StDBzFbR7bI/AAAAAAAAAU8/yAEu2knN3lk/s1600-h/3870.5.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=b4d94f0079af9d05cad37348e91b7d6b&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F_XLLx34yntfA%2FStDBzFbR7bI%2FAAAAAAAAAU8%2FyAEu2knN3lk%2Fs320%2F3870.5.jpg" alt="" class="ext_img" onload="var img = this; onloadRegister(function() { adjustImage(img); });" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most beautiful smile in the world!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t help to think that there are far worse situations in the world. Shouldn’t the aid go to those situations? Or better yet, be directed to prevention of those situations instead of playing triage. We cannot continue to apply our western sensibilities to the issues over here. We simply must take the time to develop relationships that will help us to gain the understanding needed to make better decisions about international aid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are three directives to the Peace Corps mission. One is “to educate the host country’s people about the people of America.” There recently was a group from Scotland visiting and helping at the school. We were told that there was a very negative image of Americans in Scotland and getting to know us they were surprised how different we were from their preconceived perception. I trust I don’t need to go there… Ok I will, “Bush loving war mongers.” I know they weren’t Ghanaians but it really illustrates the point. I hope that we are having the same effect on our Ghanaian friends and colleagues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please listen to these podcasts and let me know what you think. It is important for the peoples of Africa that we shift our thinking toward aid. APR’s Speaking of Faith; “Ethics of Aid” http:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=4295a704bf414238dd45f9dc45e957fe&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fspeakingoffaith.publicradio.org%2Fprograms%2F2009%2Fethicsofaid-kenya%2F" target="_blank" title="http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2009/ethicsofaid-kenya/" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;//speakingoffaith.publicra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;dio.org/programs/2009/ethi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;csofaid-kenya/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; BBC: “Why is Africa Poor?” Part 1: http:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=146930311343&amp;amp;h=6762a547e1fc46498dd5a3de33bc7f72&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.co.uk%2Fprogrammes%2Fp003zt3q" target="_blank" title="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p003zt3q" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;//www.bbc.co.uk/programmes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;/p003zt3q&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel the most important thing you need to take especially from the BBC series is at the end of the day the people not just here but everywhere need to do for themselves. We all want ownership of something and the pride that goes with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So somehow we WILL get it done. We ALL will get it done…somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to continuing this conversation…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Thanks Chris.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-7229038799640632361?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/7229038799640632361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=7229038799640632361' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7229038799640632361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7229038799640632361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/10/couldnt-have-said-it-better-myself.html' title='Somehow'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-4013443308231691048</id><published>2009-09-13T08:52:00.007Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:02:10.385Z</updated><title type='text'>Kofa's barking up a storm outside</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I finished reading "The Poisonwood Bible" the other day.  It seems that for quite a long time now people have been recommending that book.  I'm glad that I was able to read it for the first time while living in Africa.  I identified with, or maybe I should say recognized, so many parts of the book that I think would have otherwise gone unnoticed.  I found myself so caught up in the story, and captivated by the details of life, that hours would go by without my notice.  But then I would suddenly realize, these things that are touching me so much are right outside my door!  So I would put the book down and go to town for the rest of the day, with an almost renewed sense of appreciation for what I have been lucky enough to be apart of here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Most of the novel was predictable.  I think we all knew the smallest child would die.  While that was certainly a sad part of the story, what brought me to tears was when her body was laid outside under the handmade funeral arch and the villagers came on hand and knee to mourn the family's, and the community's, loss.  There is such beauty in the fierce sense of community in this part of the world.  This family, that had in so many ways insulted and ostracized the place they resented to call home, was still embraced by their village as though they were one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When I told a student that my Grandfather was sick, she organized a prayer group in the school for him.  When I fell sick, my students gathered outside of my room and prayed on their knees for me all day.  My neighbors, many of whom can hardly feed their own families, always make sure I have enough yams and groundnuts in my kitchen to feed myself and my dog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;There is such beauty in the happiness and sadness that people carry.  There is such beauty in the strength of beliefs (as frustrating as that may be at times). The thing that has struck me the most about Africa is how, in the absence of so much, people are so filled with joy.  I think this book captured that well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;For what it's worth, I've compiled a list of the books I've read since coming here.  (I think my list is significantly shorter than others.)  Some books were terrible, some were wonderful.  Kinda weird to be on such a fiction kick.  Not normally my style.  But, I think I am ready to move to Murakami-land for a few years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"No One Belongs Here More Than You" by Miranda July&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Audition" by Barbara Walters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Atonement" by Ian McEwan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Partner" by John Grisham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Rock On" by Dan Kennedy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay" by Michael Chabon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Kafka on the Shore" by Haruki Murakami&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Harry Potter series by JK Rowling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"What is the What" by Dave Eggers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Pillars of the Earth" by Ken Follett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Blind Assassin" by Margaret Atwood &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Eye of the Needle" by Ken Follett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Wings of Eagles" by Ken Follett&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The White Coat" by Ellen Rothman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Franny and Zooey" by JD Salinger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Other Boleyn Girl" by Philippa Gregory&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Dance Dance Dance" by Haruki Murakami&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Brain That Changes Itself" by Norman Doidge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Norweigan Wood" by Haruki Murakami&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman" by Richard Feynman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Poisonwood Bible" by Barbara Kingsolver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I am so glad to have reread "To Kill a Mockingbird."  I was reading it about a month or so ago, having kind of a tough time at site.  It's such a wonderful book.  (I think we sometimes overlook the strength of a book when we are forced to read them in school.)  A few lines have resonated in new ways with me, when Atticus is trying to explain to Scout why he is defending Tom Robinson.  This one especially, "Simply because we were licked a hundred years before we started is no reason for us not to try to win."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-4013443308231691048?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/4013443308231691048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=4013443308231691048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4013443308231691048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4013443308231691048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/09/kofas-barking-up-storm-outside.html' title='Kofa&apos;s barking up a storm outside'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-4751755388447766059</id><published>2009-09-09T15:52:00.012Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:03:32.748Z</updated><title type='text'>The last few months</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;June brought with it the STARS Conference (Students Taking Action Reaching for Success). Plenty of photos are posted on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/medindemegan/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;my flickr page&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; for those who are interested. In a nutshell, it's a conference put on annually by PCVs to promote leadership and life skills among our students, largely from the poorest communities in Ghana. I forgot how things like goal-planning, life skills, and the ability to stick up for yourself in situations with uneven power dynamics are things that should not be taken for granted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfUm7VhcEI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VeV4vdqJMRQ/s1600-h/DSC01454.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfUm7VhcEI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VeV4vdqJMRQ/s320/DSC01454.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379502045145428034" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The human knot.  Lots of good lessons about teamwork to be had from this super fun activity.  At first the students literally could not imagine how it would work, but by then end they were having a blast and were so proud of themselves.  It was great!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The conference was held in Kumasi, the second largest city in Ghana. The two students I took (each PCV brought 2 of their best students) had only left the village a handful of times. I think Choro had been to Yendi before, and Alice had been to Tamale once. Their jaws were dropping as soon as we hit the south. All the food! The storied buildings! The cars! It was worth it just to expose them to other parts of Ghana where people have found success. Overall, the conference went really well.  (Oh, after all this hard work putting on this ridiculously HUGE conference, did one person from the Peace Corps office show up for support?  Or even just to see what we had been all been working so hard for?  Nope, not one.  Thanks for the support Peace Corps.  Glad to know they care.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfSEaEjZ1I/AAAAAAAAAGU/H1WMxeT-GRs/s1600-h/DSC01666.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfSEaEjZ1I/AAAAAAAAAGU/H1WMxeT-GRs/s320/DSC01666.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379499253077075794" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Alice, me, and Choro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;It was an exhausting week, and I'm sure &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://starsconference.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;somewhere online someone has written an exhaustive description of it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;.  One thing I thought interesting to share- it was quite easy to tell the students from the north from those from the south.  Those from the north licked their plates clean- not a drop of sauce was left, not a piece of bone to be found.  The majority of the students from the south on the other hand, well it looked like they are fed a bit more in general.  Overall, it was a beautiful, albeit stressful, week.  Opportunities like that don't come along often, if it all, for these students.  It was pretty awesome to witness.  (Another cool thing, while it was exhaustively organized for a year to put together, the actual conference presenters were all Ghanaian.  So cool for the students to see all of these successful Ghanaians, many of whom share similar backgrounds!)  When we came back to school, Choro and Alice presented some of the topics they learned about to the school.  I am so incredibly proud of Alice (she's our Assistant Girls Prefect).  She took the stage and just rocked it.  So incredibly competent.  So incredibly confident.  So incredibly smart.  Those are not traits found in many young girls in Ghana, nor are they encouraged.  She kicks ass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfTBbFtkLI/AAAAAAAAAGc/YBKJoWKeT9A/s1600-h/DSC01634.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfTBbFtkLI/AAAAAAAAAGc/YBKJoWKeT9A/s320/DSC01634.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379500301322391730" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ghanaians never want to smile in photos.  Choro and Alice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfTogKIprI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Resr0zMmpEM/s1600-h/DSC01636.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfTogKIprI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Resr0zMmpEM/s320/DSC01636.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379500972698019506" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Hahahaha, I got them to smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ok, one kind of funny story, and kind of sad story about the conference.  Each night we had entertainment.  One night was a talent show (and yes, I will confirm the rumor that I did perform a ROCKIN air guitar solo to Weezer's "Say It Ain't So").  Keep in mind that the students gathered are among the best in the country, albeit from the poorest schools.  Everyone takes their turn on stage, mostly singing Praise-the-Lord-I-Love-Jesus songs.  Seriously, like 15 or 20 songs all along those lines.  And then Choro, oh dear Choro, decides to get up on stage and perform a rap he wrote himself.  Let me just quote a few lines from it, "I fucked that bitch.  I fucked that bitch and I'm not gonna pay her.  I'm not gonna pay her!  Ha!"  Oh yes, way to make me proud, Choro.  That is Kpandai Senior High School for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;July brought a lot of work.  I had mid-service medical down in Accra and got to meet the President!  But I think I wrote about that on here already.  Coming back to school was good, as it was getting to exam time.  The last few weeks of school were pretty intense for the students.  Overall, though, I am so proud of them.  I gave them a pretty tough exam, but the average score was the highest all year.  Out of my 316 students, 17 had As!!!!  That is huge.  Plenty more had Bs and Cs.  I am a proud mama bear.  I really want to continue with my students to Form 2, but the Assistant Headmaster Academic wants me to continue teaching at the Form 1 level.  I understand his reasons, so I won't contest it too much.  I really have come to adore my students though, even if most of them are a bunch of little shits (God, I sound like my mother).  I saw one of my students in town a few weeks ago and we got to talking and he told me that at the end of the term he gathered all of the Form 1s and they wrote a petition that they will give to the Assistant Headmaster Academic pleading for me to be their science master in Form 2.  (Wow, that was a really long sentence.  I have almost entirely lost my grasp for the English language.  I am really going to embarrass myself during med school interviews.)  How sweet is that?  I actually almost started crying when he told me that.  My eyes are actually getting a little misty right now just thinking about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Another student in town the other day who's a great artist handed me a piece of paper.  He drew the most beautiful flowers all over the paper and wrote everywhere "To Madam Megan," "Thank you for your marvelous job Madam."  And then he wrote, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"I am very happy of giving you this flower.  Thanks for your well done for us in KpanSec.  It's unfortunately that I don't especially have anything to thank you, but may the God Almighty thanks you, gives you more life, guards safely and protects and gives more divine knowledge and understanding to still hold the next academic year.  Madam, I have thought about my masters back at JHS.  I had never seen anyone who teaches like how you teach.  I said that you for your marvelous job done at KpanSec.  From Havor Francis To Madam Megan."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Ok, I'm almost in tears now because that's just so sweet.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;July also brought with it a nightmare of problems that almost caused me to leave.  I seriously considered leaving Kpandai.  It's been tough.  If anything along those lines happens again, I'm outta here.  It's these great students that make me so happy, though, and they're the ones keeping me here.  That letter, and the conversation with the other student (Punalar), came at just the right time.  They were really the "atta boys" that I needed.  Now that school is on holiday I'm alone here at camp, a few miles from town.  It's been great just to ride my bike with the Kofster to town everyday.  Greeting the market ladies, sitting in the shade with friends.  Throwing Stones (my beer for choice, thought others prefer to shoot Stars) with the priest.  I think I forgot how great Kpandai is outside of the complete bullshit that is Kpandai Senior High School.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So, for whatever you may have heard, I'm staying.  That was August for me.  Deciding to stay and continue the work that needs to be done.  This is where I need to be.  I'm trying to think positively.  Keeping positive people in my life.  Not dwelling on all of the negative.  That means cutting back on a lot of PC friends, actually.  When we all get together we tend to just bitch about how much we hate Ghana, even though we all love it.  But, it brings me down, and I need to stay up right now.  Happy thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In other news, I'm running in the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.aimghana.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Accra International Marathon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; at the end of the month.  I'm only doing the half-marathon actually.  13.1 miles.  I thought about doing the full, but well, first, I'm not a runner.  Never have been.  So just a half is kind of a big deal for me.  Also, the marathon is supposed to start at 5am, and last year it didn't start until 10am.  Let me tell you, Africa is HOT that time of day.  13.1 miles will be painful enough at that time.  I can really only run at 5am or 6pm.  Otherwise it's just way too hot.  I'm hoping to keep up my training schedule, though, and compete in the full Portland Marathon next year right after I get back.  We'll see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;That's about it for now.  School is "starting" next week.  Classes probably won't actually start for a few weeks.  But, positive thoughts!  I've got lots of plans for running an even tighter ship in the girls dorm this year.  I'll save those thoughts for another post though.  Cheers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;P.S.  I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/08/10/update-on-paul-farmer-and-usaid/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;just read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://ghsm.hms.harvard.edu/people/faculty/farmer/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Paul Farmer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; will not be heading &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.usaid.gov/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;USAID&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;.  Something about the House refusing to confirm him.  No one is more saintly than that man.  What the hell is wrong with the US government?  No one is more perfect to run an organization like that.  He is an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pih.org/home.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;inspiration&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; for us all.  The world would be a better place if there were more people like him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-4751755388447766059?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/4751755388447766059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=4751755388447766059' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4751755388447766059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4751755388447766059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/09/last-few-months.html' title='The last few months'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SqfUm7VhcEI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VeV4vdqJMRQ/s72-c/DSC01454.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-7416134268535676532</id><published>2009-08-06T19:06:00.007Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:04:46.676Z</updated><title type='text'>Obama-rama!  Part deux</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I had a great birthday surprise! President Obama came to Ghana, and at the last minute a private event at the airport was coordinated, which Peace Corps was invited to attend! Obama fever was everywhere in Accra- billboards, t-shirts, biscuit wrappers, even fabric! In Kpandai people were asking me if I was going to meet my president. Most people's ears were glued to the radio for any Obama news. We saw him off at the airport, where he and President Mills of Ghana gave a speech. I still am shaking off the goosebumps:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;http://politicaltic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;ker.blogs.cnn.com/2009/07/11/obama-bids-goodbye-to-ghana/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;It still feels a bit surreal. When I left America he was still contending for the democratic nomination. In my mind he has been a symbol of hope and change, it's been difficult to grasp him as anything beyond that. So to see him standing behind the Presidential Seal and boarding Air Force One, that was exhilarating. I think for many of us that was when it really sunk in that this is, in fact, our President. (Interesting fact, the Presidential Seal is only put onto the podium a few minutes before the President is to enter.) Also, how freakin awesome that he mentioned Peace Corps 4 TIMES in an 11 minute speech?!?! Being a PCV is often a thankless job, and it wears us down, a lot, so to be acknowledged by the President of the United States was, to say the least, the pat on the back that we all needed. After his speech finished he and the First Lady came around to shake our hands, and the whole time they kept saying, "We're so proud of you," "You're doing such a great job," "Keep up the good work," and so on. It really is difficult to describe how that made me feel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SnssI8yCY0I/AAAAAAAAAGE/ke6nTSSwUGk/s1600-h/patrick1.jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SnssI8yCY0I/AAAAAAAAAGE/ke6nTSSwUGk/s320/patrick1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366931913208652610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SnssI8yCY0I/AAAAAAAAAGE/ke6nTSSwUGk/s1600-h/patrick1.jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SnssI8yCY0I/AAAAAAAAAGE/ke6nTSSwUGk/s1600-h/patrick1.jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;It's interesting, I never considered myself a particularly patriotic person before I cam to Ghana. I suppose I have always intellectually understood that I am lucky to be an American, but nothing really beyond that. Coming to Ghana has unexpectedly developed my sense of patriotism. Part of it is just the stark contrast in living conditions (I think it's quite rare for an American family to not have electricity or running water, for example). Part of it is also how incredibly revered Americans are by Ghanaians, and I imagine by most of the world. Being American is akin to royalty (at least initially). I think the average Ghanaian thinks America is the land of wealth, health, and happiness. There are so many things we take for granted, not just the material things, that still blow my mind here. Even just the other day I was at school, and two students were brought to the masters I was with to be punished. Basically, in class the boy slapped the girl for talking and the girl slapped the boy back. The masters responded by saying, "How dare you hit a man?" My jaw literally dropped. It was no problem to them that the boy slapped the girl. They continued, "A man can take four of you, how can you hit a man?" So naturally I chimed in, saying, "How dare you hit a girl? How dare you hit your colleagues at all?" Maybe in America these ideas are subversively present, but on the whole I think you'd be hard pressed to hear anyone seriously voicing those ideas, especially in an educational setting. I forget how fortunate I am to be from a country where these things are not such a problem, and it really makes me proud to be an American.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Meeting any president would be an honor, and certainly President Obama was no exception. My burgeoning sense of patriotism was practically bursting throughout the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The speech he gave had a powerful message, about how now is the time to for Africa to shape its destiny. The future of Ghana is in the hands of the youth. It's true. It really is time for Africa to start taking care of itself. But that is a story for another time. I was excited to bring those messages back to the students. I hope a few of them really heard it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/Snss4okqICI/AAAAAAAAAGM/fRuSbb6fpII/s1600-h/patrick2.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/Snss4okqICI/AAAAAAAAAGM/fRuSbb6fpII/s320/patrick2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366932732417548322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia, fantasy;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-7416134268535676532?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/7416134268535676532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=7416134268535676532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7416134268535676532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7416134268535676532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/08/obama-rama-part-deux.html' title='Obama-rama!  Part deux'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SnssI8yCY0I/AAAAAAAAAGE/ke6nTSSwUGk/s72-c/patrick1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-7568596374669861247</id><published>2009-06-02T16:14:00.019Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:06:48.206Z</updated><title type='text'>Over the meadow and through the woods</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Just getting back into the swing of things at site.  Most of April was spent backpacking around West Africa.  My friend Shawn and I traveled through Togo, Benin, Niger, and Burkina Faso.  It was an amazing trip!  A friend from home is a PCV in Niger, so we spent most of our time there.  We did the trip in a loop- we started in Togo, but only spent an afternoon there (eating avocado baguette sandwiches on the beach!).  That turned out to be a good thing because shortly after there was a coup in Lome.  From Togo we went straight to Benin.  It was challenging to move around Benin without any French.  Luckily PC Benin was very helpful.  Some tragedies struck there recently, so out visit with PC was rather somber.  We were able to meet up with some Benin PCVs who took us around to explore the cities.  Benin is beautiful, I really enjoyed our time there.  It felt similar to Ghana, socially and environmentally.  The biggest difference I noticed?  Baguette!  In the village we only have sugar bread, so the baguette was a treat.  All of the francophone countries had baguette on the streets.  One bummer about being colonized by the British?  No baguette.  Bummer.  Anyway, Benin is apparently the voodoo capital of West Africa.  I hope that when my French improves I'll travel back.  I heard there are some interesting sacred forests and voodoo villages you can visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We somehow managed our way to the north of Benin and into Niger.  Niger immediately felt different from the other places we visited.  The environment was much drier, to soil poorer, vegetation sparser, and so damn hot.  It was a bit easier to understand why Niger is the poorest country in the world.  You might ask why would be travel to an entrance of the Sahara desert at the hottest time of the year?  Yeah, um, I'm still trying to figure that one out, too.  After a few adventurous days, Shawn and I navigated our way to Chris's part of the country (my English has gotten terrible since being here, my vocabulary is so small now, my grammar is even worse, so is it right to say Chris' or Chris's?  I HAVE NO IDEA).  We met up with Chris in Zinder, the regional capital nearest his village.  We spent a few days exploring Zinder before heading to his site (pictures are up on Flickr).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilJO4Vz8NI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Bk1Z9OxbGa8/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+071.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilJO4Vz8NI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Bk1Z9OxbGa8/s320/April+Trip+pics+071.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343882952842670290" /&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This is the main mosque in Zinder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilOohz7pmI/AAAAAAAAAFc/l6uGPdXnNeA/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+085.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilOohz7pmI/AAAAAAAAAFc/l6uGPdXnNeA/s320/April+Trip+pics+085.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343888891029726818" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The juju protecting the mosque from evil sprits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilJsWQPunI/AAAAAAAAAD8/INu2FAKScdk/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+110.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilJsWQPunI/AAAAAAAAAD8/INu2FAKScdk/s320/April+Trip+pics+110.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343883459088595570" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;One of the main roads in Zinder. The street was not busy because it was time for afternoon prayers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In Niger henna is quite popular, in the traditional sense that most westerners think of, so naturally we had to do it.  In Ghana I've only seen henna used by Dagomba women.  They use it raw, so it is more of a red color.  The women paint it around the base of their feet to display that they're married.  In Niger, it seemed that most women use henna for more decorative purposes (surely we were looking for husbands) on their arms and legs.  They also add hydrogen peroxide to the plant so that it is a darker black color.  We roamed around Zinder asking people on the street if they knew where we could get some.  We found one woman who was working and stopped her work to take us to her house, where her and her daughter applied some for us.  We sat on the floor, eating dates and playing with small children.  One thing I love about Africa is how willing people are to open their homes and share their lives with you.  The whole process took almost 4 hours, and it turned out to be a great time!  We really felt welcomed by the experience.  Even though we spoke about three words of Hausa, and they only spoke about three words of English, we still found ways to communicate and share each other's culture.  It was exciting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilKSRqm3wI/AAAAAAAAAEE/oT4RlZ9Fpps/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+162.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilKSRqm3wI/AAAAAAAAAEE/oT4RlZ9Fpps/s320/April+Trip+pics+162.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343884110692015874" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Heading the Chris's (I just feel more comfortable with the s's, the s' feels incomplete) site was crazy.  He doesn't live far from Zinder, but it sure felt like it.  After taking a tro to a neighboring village, we had to walk about 10 km to his village.  No problem, right?  Someone forgot to mention that it is 10 km through the desert!  Ok, in all fairness Chris says it's technically sahel and not desert, but give me a break, I live in the sahel!  If there's only sand, sparse vegetation, and camels, I say desert.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilNIudwO5I/AAAAAAAAAFU/MOLIRkENe3A/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+136.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilNIudwO5I/AAAAAAAAAFU/MOLIRkENe3A/s320/April+Trip+pics+136.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343887245158923154" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Of course I did not bring the proper footwear for the trek, I was just wearing cheap Ghanaian leather flip flops.  Oh my goodness the sand was so so so hot, my feet were in serious pain.  So, we hiked for almost three hours, in over 120 degree heat, AND WE RAN OUT OF WATER.  Good lord it was painful.  The heat was so dry that our sweat immediately evaporated.  Rather we had salt stains all over our clothes.  It was only when we reached the house and collapsed on the floor out of the sun that our sweat stopped evaporating so quickly- it looked as though someone poured buckets of water on us!  We were pretty useless for the rest of the day, so Chris had to be the one to fetch the water.  Apparently all of the villagers were harassing him for having lazy wives because he didn't go to fetch the water for him!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Chris is living what I think most of us imagined to be the typical PC experience.  A small mudhut in a tiny village in the middle of the desert (ok, sahel, whatever), no electricity, no running water, no English at all.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilUZGYLjvI/AAAAAAAAAFk/O59RFW1G_H0/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+142.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilUZGYLjvI/AAAAAAAAAFk/O59RFW1G_H0/s320/April+Trip+pics+142.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343895223037300466" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Entering the village.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilUZWRCyfI/AAAAAAAAAFs/J8aTMbK9-OI/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+150.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilUZWRCyfI/AAAAAAAAAFs/J8aTMbK9-OI/s320/April+Trip+pics+150.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343895227302332914" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Time to herd the sheep!  (This is supposed to be the lushest region of Niger.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In some ways I'm envious of the experience he's having.  (Of course I know that I'm working where I need to be and I'm happy with my projects.)  He's working on some interesting projects at site.  He's a Natural Resource Management volunteer, so he does lots of farming development.  It's a different life from Ghana to be sure.  Chris is awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilU5ciWOaI/AAAAAAAAAF0/vdEx4ISbDHE/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+148.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilU5ciWOaI/AAAAAAAAAF0/vdEx4ISbDHE/s320/April+Trip+pics+148.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343895778741336482" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The farm where Chris is working.  It's also the big lake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilU5UbRk_I/AAAAAAAAAF8/-LBwebj19SM/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+146.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilU5UbRk_I/AAAAAAAAAF8/-LBwebj19SM/s320/April+Trip+pics+146.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343895776564188146" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Fetching water for the farm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We were very lucky to be able to travel under the PC umbrella.  We were able to spend time with volunteers in their villages, people who speak the local languages, which allowed us to have a richer cultural experience I think.  Anywhere you travel and are able to speak the local language you are instantly treated with more respect.  It was great to spend time in the villages, not just in the larger cities.  One thing that struck me about Niger was the relative homogenous culture.  In Ghana there are over 80 languages spoken, and almost as many ethnic groups.  I think that is has been difficult for the younger generations to hold onto their cultural traditions as they become increasingly integrated with each other in multiethnic forums.  In Niger, however, a country much larger than Ghana, there seemed to be only four major ethnic groups, inhabiting different parts of the country.  It felt like the people were practicing their traditions in stronger, more apparent ways, which was a really beautiful thing to see.  Ghana is a place where western culture is beginning to prevail, and in many ways that is helping them to progress as far as they have.  It was interesting to observe different kinds of African culture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We somehow made it out of Chris's village alive.  We hired an oxcart to take us back, and we were sure to stock up on plenty of water.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilLUmzDLZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/m3DrcL_4YA4/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilLUmzDLZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/m3DrcL_4YA4/s320/April+Trip+pics+156.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343885250235936146" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Eventually we made our way to Niamey, and then to Burkina Faso.  The bus from Niamey to Ouagadougou was interesting, there were quite a few Fulani families traveling.  The Fulanis are a traditionally nomadic tribe of West Africa that largely take care of cattle.  I do not know a lot about the history of their culture unfortunately.  But the way the women carry themselves is absolutely stunning.  The Nigerien Fulanis were so beautiful, I've never seen any in Ghana like that.  Unfortunately I don't have any photos of them.  Other than the beautiful and fascinating traditional Fulanis, the bus ride was tortuous.  About 10 hours I think, and of course the windows in the back, where we were seated, did not open.  And the men in the front refused to open their windows.  Not the most fun bus ride.  Such is traveling.  (Overall travel time throughout the trip?  92 hours.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Overall, it was a great adventure.  It's nice to be back in Kpandai now.  It was great to see Kofa, too!  Lots of exciting things are happening in the school these days.  I'm hoping to update everyone soon!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilLyeWH_GI/AAAAAAAAAFE/G69VFovn0F8/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+058.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilLyeWH_GI/AAAAAAAAAFE/G69VFovn0F8/s320/April+Trip+pics+058.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343885763363208290" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilLyVL4IEI/AAAAAAAAAE8/SAcVsjkUikI/s320/April+Trip+pics+057.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343885760904306754" style="text-align: left;text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  text-decoration: underline;font-family:Georgia;font-size:48px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilMk-50ogI/AAAAAAAAAFM/TREVdu_a7Zk/s1600-h/April+Trip+pics+159.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilMk-50ogI/AAAAAAAAAFM/TREVdu_a7Zk/s320/April+Trip+pics+159.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343886631096328706" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-7568596374669861247?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/7568596374669861247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=7568596374669861247' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7568596374669861247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7568596374669861247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/06/just-getting-back-into-swing-of-things.html' title='Over the meadow and through the woods'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SilJO4Vz8NI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Bk1Z9OxbGa8/s72-c/April+Trip+pics+071.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-4738524627268314707</id><published>2009-02-19T08:13:00.009Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:08:10.803Z</updated><title type='text'>Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I have not been able to share any photos lately because of my broken camera.  However, if you'd like to look at some phenomenal photos of Ghana try check out &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.peterdicampo.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Pete DiCampo's site&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;.  He is a former Ghana PCV and is now living here as a professional photographer.  Also, his site was not so far from mine.  Cheers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-4738524627268314707?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/4738524627268314707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=4738524627268314707' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4738524627268314707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4738524627268314707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/02/photos.html' title='Photos'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-6091264716480761046</id><published>2009-02-09T10:09:00.014Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:09:07.821Z</updated><title type='text'>Hang on to yourself</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In addition to teaching Integrated Science, I have been assigned to role of Housemistress at KpanSec.  As I think I've said before, I am the first female teacher at the school, and consequently the first Housemistress.  I am still learning what it means to fulfill the role, but generally I am responsible for all the boarding girls (~300).  I am responsible for organizing the dormitory, getting girls to the clinic, and most importantly managing their well-being.  Basically everything girl-related.  It's a tough job, but an important one.  When I first arrived the Headmaster, also new to KpanSec, and I had many discussions about the significance of this position and how badly the girls are in need of a strong female role model.  I am lucky to have a Headmaster, and Senior Housemaster (Push) for that matter, who are so progressive in their thoughts about the potential for female students.  From the beginning they have been strong supporters of mine, pushing me to make positive transformations of the girls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I seem to always be hearing phrases like "These girls need sex so badly," and other disparaging remarks along the same lines.  It became clear after awhile that many of the other masters were happy to, how should I put it, help the girls with their needs.  Of course this is all hush hush, and God forbid anyone actually come to me and help me see this problem, but I have begun to navigate the issue.  Almost all of the masters (myself included) live the so-called Masters Quarters, about a quarter mile from school.  According the GES (Ghana Education Service) policies, no students are allowed in the Masters Quarters.  Heh, for that matter according to GES policies no masters are supposed to have sexual relations with students and masters are actually supposed to show up to all of their classes, but I digress.  Now, many of the girls do come to the MQs, mostly to do all of the washing, cooking and cleaning for the masters, because obviously they are incapable of doing those things for themselves without their wives living with them.  As preposterous and pathetic as I think that is, I realize there's not much I can do to change that, unfortunately that is simply the role women play in society.  So I keep my mouth shut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Last term two incidents coincided in one week that have changed things.  I'll try to spare the details.  In the first incident, I saw a girl at a master's house washing his clothes during school hours.  The master was nowhere to be seen, so I went to the girl and told her that she was to go to class immediately, for her job is to be at school.  I feel as Housemistress it is my responsibility to ensure the girls are going to class.  So as I told her to be on her way, of course the master comes along, a master I considered to be a good friend in fact.  Well, he had a serious problem with me telling the girl to leave.  Ridiculous drama ensued from there.  Unfortunately I don't think we are friends anymore.  Not my choice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The second and more serious episode occurred later that week.  Every Saturday we have House Inspections.  Each of the 4 boys houses, as well as the girls house, has to be impeccably cleaned, and then a group of masters and a dignitary from the village come to rate them.  It's a big deal.  Early Saturday mornings are spent cleaning, and everyone must participate.  If you don't participate then you become a day student.  On this particular Saturday I found some girls hiding out at a master's house to do washing for his wife (ok, I know this will sound sexist out of context, but the man has a wife and two small girls, why does he need more girls to come and do washing for him?!?!?).  I chased them away to go clean the dormitory.  I had to go back on 3 occasions that morning to chase girls away from his house.  This was incredibly inappropriate for the girls to be going there and for the master to allow it (I hate using the term master, the connotation disgusts me).  I had already been hearing small rumors about this particular master in his "girlfriends" in the school.  So in accordance with the Senior Housemaster, and ultimately with the support of the Headmaster, I made a rule that no girl is allowed to go to his house without my permission.  Oh that did not make him happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The following week I saw two girls at his house again.  The girls know the rule, and so does this master.  When I saw them over there I was livid.  Perhaps against my better judgement I marched over there and told the girls that they know the rules and that they were to go and collect their buckets (for punishment, my pathetic attempt at non-coprporal punishment is to collect buckets of gravel).  I was furious with the master, but tried not to show it.  But of course, he leapt up and basically began to shout at me that he is the girls master, I am not, they do not have to listen to me and that they have to listen to him, blah blah blah.  It was hard to argue back because, well, this person is not the most educated or reasonable, and so he heard nothing I had to say.  But as soon as he started to shout at me (shout at me for doing my job!!) I had to shout back.  I think it is important for the girls to see that you cannot let any man just push you around and prevent you from doing your job because you are a women, and that you should not back down just because some stupid man thinks he has the right to yell at you, and for them to see their Housemistress (I have a much higher rank in the school than he does) be yelled at by some silly master was not helping.  I tried to be logical, but it was not working with this one.  It ultimately ended with him yelling racial slurs at me and telling me to go back to America.  Mind you, this shouting match attracted just about the whole neighborhood.  Just wonderful.  (And for those who know me well, I hope you can appreciate the monumental amount of self-restraint it took not to yell insults right back at this person, even though they were brewing in my head.  Not as if he would even understand them, moron).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Both situations resulted in meetings with the higher ups, and for what it's worth I had the full support of the administration and both masters were admonished.  In fact, the Headmaster took the step to announce to the entire school the enforcement of the rule that no girl is allowed to the MQs without my permission.  Here's where the real problem comes from.  Now this all happened back in November, so you'd think we'd have all settled into this rule.  Not that this is even a new rule, it is a GES rule!  But it's enforcement is new.  Part of the reason the Headmaster made me Housemistress was so that this rule could be enforced.  I mean for Christ's sake last year a girl was impregnated by a master!  This is necessary.  Otherwise, why do girls even come to school?  Oh, that's right, to do all of the menial work for the masters and keep their beds warm at night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I thought things were going ok.  I felt that this "new" rule was not only to protect the girls, but also to teach them responsibility and accountability for their actions.  It's not so much to spy on the masters.  I can't be responsible for their actions, but I am responsible for the girls.  So I thought things were ok- I had the support of the Headmaster, both Assistant Headmasters, and the Senior Housemaster (basically all the Big Men on campus).  They were constantly telling me that I was doing the right thing and that's why they asked me here.  Though, I started to sense that some of the masters were getting cold to me.  To make a long story short, it has recently been made clear to me that almost all of the other masters are livid with me and think I am overstepping my bounds.  They have just about turned it into a fight for me to enforce this one rule.  They have gone out of their way to make it impossible for me to do just about any aspect of my job.  Sometimes I feel like they get mad at me for showing up to all of my classes on time, because it makes them look they are not working.  Needless to say, life here has been tough for the past few weeks.  I had no idea people were so upset by this rule.  I think I am just doing my job- the job they asked me to come here and do.  To be honest, I think I am doing my job quite gracefully.  In so many ways there needs to be radical changes at this school, but I know I cannot do that, I think I am doing my job practically and reasonably, not in a way meant to offend anyone.  I feel that I am constantly tiptoeing around cultural taboos and making every effort to appease everyone.  But I am beginning to realize that no matter what I do, I will offend someone.  And who knew that by trying to do my job people would take it as a personal offense?  The atmosphere here is so child-like.  Everyone gossips, no one will be honest about how they feel.  They will just smile and then talk serious shit about you behind your back.  I came here to do the job asked of me, and I am not going to do it in this Ghanian way of not doing it at all and just sitting under the mango tree all day.  If I am prevented from doing my job, then why did they bring me all the way from the other side of the world to do it?  Obviously they recognize the problem or they wouldn't have asked for help.  The Headmaster and other Big Men are removed from the day to day situation.  They have their offices, and they don't live in the MQs.  To them I need to keep working and keep my chin up.  They want more of what I'm doing.  But what more can I do- I've only created one rule (and not even created, just enforced), and look at the backlash.  I wish just someone would acknowledge what I sacrificed to come here and do this.  I gave up my job, my home, my friends, my family, my lifestyle, I put medical school on hold, to come here and do this thankless job, for no salary I should add.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This is not what I imagined.  I want to be a Peace Corps Volunteer.  I want to live in Africa.  I want to help people help themselves.  I want to develop sustainable programs.  I want to be somewhere that wants my help.  My help is not wanted here.  I did not come here to fight.  I did not come here to push my values on others.  I came here because I thought they wanted me here.  As admirable as teaching can be, I do not think it is effective as a PC program.  We cannot change the system, we cannot change gender politics, we cannot change school politics, we cannot change how people value education.  Ultimately, we are only here for 2 years, and whatever small impact we have made, things will go back to they way they were once we leave.  At most we are impacting the lives of a few school children.  And isn't that about the same that American teachers can say?  How is it any different here?  There are teachers available here.  They want me to behave like a Ghanaian teacher- teach to the WASSCE, teach straight out of the book, discourage critical thinking, not attend class.  One person cannot change that.  I don't want to be complacent for 2 years.  But I also don't have the energy to fight an uphill battle for 2 years, nor do I think that's my job.  When I envisioned PC I thought about helping people who want help, becoming a valued member of the community.  Helping to develop Guinea Worm eradication programs, helping to find clean drinking water, organizing HIV/AIDS education- and these are things that the Omnibus volunteers are doing.  These are the kinds of projects that will outlast our time here and make positive impacts in the community.  I don't think teaching has the same effect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Part of the reason I was sent here by PC was to be a teacher, but another significant goal they have is community integration.  Right now I am not confident that I can do both.  I don't see how I can strike a balance between doing my assigned job well and making friends and having cross-cultural exchanges.  Don't get me wrong, I still have a handful of friends in town that I enjoy quite a bit, but is that enough?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Maybe this comes across as insignificant, but this is my life.  It is effecting every part of it.  My neighbors, my friends, my classes.  This is a small village and people sure like to gossip.  How can I be an effective PCV when I don't feel comfortable leaving my house?  That no matter what I do it will be wrong in someone's eyes?  I was reading something a few weeks ago about how memories work, and something stuck with me.  Apparently the more people retell their memories (put words to them), the more embellished they become.  Research has proven that the less people tell stories of their memories the more accurate they are.  Now imagine a group of people (let's say teachers) who sit around in a room all day (let's say a staff common room) gossiping with each other (let's say instead of teaching) because they have nothing else to talk about.  It doesn't take so long for the smallest most insignificant issue to get a head of its own.  Especially when you toss in the whole mob mentality and the inferiority of a woman in this culture.  The situation has gotten so out of hand that I can't even understand it anymore.  I honestly don't think they do, either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;At this point I am questioning why I am here.  I don't think I am helping.  I know I do not have the strength to continue like this for another 18 months.  I am tired.  I feel defeated.  I don't know what to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;P.S.  Kofa was ran over by a moto yesterday.  I think he's going to be ok, but it was a stressful night.  Poor little dude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;P.P.S.  My camera is broken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-6091264716480761046?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/6091264716480761046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=6091264716480761046' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/6091264716480761046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/6091264716480761046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/02/hang-on-to-yourself.html' title='Hang on to yourself'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-6329744873385179490</id><published>2009-02-07T10:17:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:09:59.071Z</updated><title type='text'>And the beat goes on</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;There are only so many emotional beatings a person can take until you start to ask yourself, what am I doing here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;___&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My internet's been down for almost a month, but it seems that we're back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-6329744873385179490?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/6329744873385179490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=6329744873385179490' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/6329744873385179490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/6329744873385179490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/02/and-beat-goes-on.html' title='And the beat goes on'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-4119976187900140231</id><published>2009-01-05T17:29:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:11:41.578Z</updated><title type='text'>Apparently I don't have enough spice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Some of my small children (heh) and I were cooking yams this afternoon.  After informing them that I already had a stew prepared from yesterday they insisted upon inspecting it:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;YAW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;(Sniffing the stew)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Oh madam just the smell makes me want to vomit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Yaw that is not a nice thing to say.  It's a nice stew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;YAW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But it makes me sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Yaw you are not going to vomit just because there is no pepe in it (pepe is Ghanaian peper that makes wasabe taste like water).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;YAW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;(In a voice sounding like his puppy just died)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Madam a problem has found me and it us just chasing me.  I am so so worried.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Yaw you are not going to vomit.  You look perfectly find to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;YAW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Maybe if I can add my own pepe then I will not vomit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;People take their pepe quite seriously here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-4119976187900140231?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/4119976187900140231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=4119976187900140231' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4119976187900140231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4119976187900140231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2009/01/apparently-i-dont-have-enough-spice.html' title='Apparently I don&apos;t have enough spice'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-5043505897273795313</id><published>2008-12-31T18:14:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-06-05T17:38:24.605Z</updated><title type='text'>Afehyia pa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Since I arrived in Kpandai I've tried to navigate the history of the land.  It's proved to be a more difficult task than I anticipated.  Many people in Kpandai, especially the younger ones, appear to know next to nothing about the history of the village.  They may know some scant stories that have been passed down through the tribe, but in an area that is such a melting pot a lasting narrative ceases to exist.  Kpandai is made up of at least 9 tribes- that's 9 different claims to the land, 9 different languages, 9 different cultural traditions, 9 different historical perspectives....   What is an effective way to sort this out and try to draw a somewhat cohesive picture? I think storytelling is a powerful mode of communication, a way to preserve culture and share ideas, and as an art form it is also a way of making history a bit more interesting.  Storytelling is essentially how history is passed down- why not record it?  Patrick and I were chatting recently, and the idea of creating an oral history of each of our villages came up.  There are so many stories to tell, and no one to record them.  Most of the village elders are happy to sit around for hours, if not days, and share their tales.  To draw out the village's history through their stories could create something quite interesting.  I think the end product could turn into something significant and rather beautiful.  I'm also imagining recording the tribal songs, as they are stories in themselves, to add to the narrative.  I'm in the process of developing a music/culture club at the school (well the girls really wanted a music/shake your ass club, so this is a happy medium) and I'm hoping that this will be a tool to learn about the different tribes and customs.  I really want the students, especially the girls, to learn how music can be a powerful means of expression aside from words.  I want the club to be a means to explore local history and culture, as well as sharing American culture.  I'm working on a presentation of the history of African American music in America- how music played such a strong role in the midst of such enormous oppression.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Anyway, audio recordings seem like the appropriate means here.  Not as invasive as video, as interesting as that would be, and cassette players are abundant.  One of the key things will be to take the recordings in the native language.  Language is one of the largest barriers in this area between people.  I think I may have found a translator who is competent in at least 6 of the local languages.  I hope that after taking the recordings we will somehow be able to weave them together into a final piece that can be translated into many languages, thus making it accessible to the majority of the community.  This will certainly be a long term project.  To draw these stories out will take a significant amount of time and patience.  This will be a great way to begin to cultivate stronger relationships with the village elders.  I'm still mulling ideas around in my head, but I think we're on to something and I'm really excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-5043505897273795313?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/5043505897273795313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=5043505897273795313' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/5043505897273795313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/5043505897273795313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/12/afehyia-pa.html' title='Afehyia pa'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-9161593099658834776</id><published>2008-12-02T17:44:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-06-05T17:39:02.556Z</updated><title type='text'>Who are you, who who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I think I'm on my way to being well integrated into the Kpandai community.  I've made a lot of friends, I'm hearing less "father"/"siliminga"/"obruni" and more Sister Yaa.  Strangely, though, it still feels as if no one really knows me.  Most people only know I am American and I teach science at Kpansec.  As an American, I seem to define myself above these categorizations.  I think we all define ourselves through our values and identify with others through our interests.  I'm beginning to think that it's not quite the same here.  I've met very few people who do have their own interests and hobbies.  After giving them a second thought, I suppose they come from more affluent parts of the area.  For most people, their lives consist of work.  Wake early and clean, wash clothes, cook food, go to market, sell some things, cook more, bath, farm, and sleep again.  There's not a lot of time, or perhaps much financial freedom, to develop any substantial hobbies or intellectual interests.  Maybe it's that I'm living in a village.  I'm sure things are different in the big cities.  It sometimes feels empty talking to people here, because what is there to say?  Oh that washing today was rough, how about yours?  People relate to one another differently here.  I'm still not entirely sure how.  I think a large part of the relations is that when there is time to rest and take a mineral, people truly want to relax and can all share in that tranquility.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are people who talk about people, people who talk about things, and people who talk about ideas.  Most people here fall into the former category.  I prefer to spend most of my time in the latter, especially living in a foreign country where my own values are constantly challenged, stimulating all sorts of ideas about life and whatnot.  Perhaps because we are not burdened with lives that largely consist of monotonous manual labor we as Americans are able to fall into the latter category.  I think one of the challenges that I am to overcome here is to learn how people in other cultures relate to one another.  I so simply thought that we could all relate as humans, but I am beginning to see how basic of a generalization that is.  I have made a few friends here who seem to truly be on the brink of something great, and often they pursue fabulous idea-based conversations.  These people are truly the ones who will change their country, if not the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some days I just want to dish about some new music, or put together some art project, and there's not really anyone to do that with.  I'm showing them slowly what our American lives are like, and they're slowly showing me what Ghanaian lives are live.  I guess that's one way we do relate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Headed down to Kukurantumi this week for a big PC conference.  The elections are on Sunday, so we're all being gathered for safe-keeping.  It's going to be strange to be packed together with so many Americans again.  Should be good times though.  I'm also going to visit my homestay family for a night on Thursday.  Ia am so so so excited to see them.  After the conference I am probably headed to the beach with Diana and Meg again.  Definitely looking forward to that!  I should be back to Kpandai a few days before Christmas.  I am still not entirely convinced that it is December.  Where is the snow?  Where is the rain?  December is not supposed to be this hot.  I hope you're all enjoying the fabulous cold weather.  Cheers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S.  &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/24/world/middleeast/24saudi.html?_r=1&amp;amp;hp"&gt;Very cool article&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-9161593099658834776?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/9161593099658834776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=9161593099658834776' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/9161593099658834776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/9161593099658834776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/12/who-are-you-who-who.html' title='Who are you, who who?'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-5072976082607419047</id><published>2008-11-07T21:22:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-11-07T21:28:17.403Z</updated><title type='text'>Me and the Kof-ster</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SRSy3tdTNnI/AAAAAAAAAC8/UNpsRVBaCfE/s1600-h/Photo+22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SRSy3tdTNnI/AAAAAAAAAC8/UNpsRVBaCfE/s320/Photo+22.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266030534467991154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SRSyoFScqnI/AAAAAAAAAC0/k1LGUXo3YKE/s1600-h/Photo+18.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SRSyoFScqnI/AAAAAAAAAC0/k1LGUXo3YKE/s320/Photo+18.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266030265987017330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-5072976082607419047?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/5072976082607419047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=5072976082607419047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/5072976082607419047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/5072976082607419047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/11/me-and-kof-ster.html' title='Me and the Kof-ster'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SRSy3tdTNnI/AAAAAAAAAC8/UNpsRVBaCfE/s72-c/Photo+22.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-6195645331985680136</id><published>2008-11-06T16:54:00.005Z</published><updated>2009-06-05T17:40:24.338Z</updated><title type='text'>Obama-rama!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/SRMtHfHGbjI/AAAAAAAAACU/VewnLI9jRqw/s1600-h/Photo+18.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I was so happy to hear that Obama won the election!  It's interesting how so many people here were congratulating me on the results- this is truly a validating moment for many Africans.  I wasn't so thrilled to hear that Californians decided to ban gay marriage.  I guess we can't win them all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, apparently there are some rumors going around that I may have been eaten by a lion or something.  I'm here to say no, that's not true.  I am indeed alive.  The first two months here were a bit lonely and depressing.  Apart from the language barrier (thanks so much for the relevant training Peace Corps), I didn't have much to do.  I'm only into my second week of teaching!  So there wasn't a lot to write about, and I wasn't feeling particularly motivated to do much.  Apologies.  I am happy to report though that things have picked up significantly!  I am pretty darn happy.  There are so many things to write about, and I feel quite overwhelmed about where to start.  Instead of trying to cram it all in here, I'm going to make an effort to write more consistent entries on various topics of interest.  I could probably go on for awhile about how school works, what food I am eating, my small children, tribal conflicts, chieftancy disputes, marriage proposals, etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finally have a daily routine and am keeping pretty busy.  I am teaching Integrated Science to the Form Ones (how I went from Physics to Biology to Integrated Science is another mess...).  I teach about 20 40-minute periods a week.  My biggest challenge right now is getting those students to respect time, not functioning on "African Time," or as us PCVs like to say, the GMT.  There have been a few afternoons full of group punishments.  They are learning, small small.  I think the time issue has become one of my largest frustrations here.  I'll have to write more about that sometime soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My day begins around 4:30.  I have to drag myself out of bed to get to the girls dormitory by 4:45 to drag the girls out of bed for volleyball practice at 5:00.  If I don't wake them up they won't make it out to the field until closer to 6:00 (then they won't make it to their classes by 7:00 and then use it as an excuse to get to classes around 9:30, which of course the Sports Master has no problem with...).  Oh, right, so I've joined to volleyball team!  That's been a lot of fun.  It's been a good way to get to know some of the girls better and to get some exercise.  I leave there by 6:30, and if I don't have a 7:00 class or if there's no morning assembly I'll go jogging for about a half hour.  Serena has been a great motivator (the girl ran the Accra Marathon last month!)- she's actually got me running in the morning.  Well, by "running" I should say jogging really really slowly.  I usually have some classes throughout the day.  If I don't have classes then I'm grading and lesson planning.  That takes up most of the day.  By 3 or 4 my new drinking buddies are ready to head to town to take some beers.  I've made some fun friends with some faculty.  They seem to think that since I'm a volunteer it's their duty to buy me beer everyday.  Everyday.  I've met a lot of their friends in town and I feel like I am actually getting a social network.  Good times.  By evening time I've got to come home to cook some dinner, read a little, and then head to bed pretty early.  When lights are off I'm usually in bed by 8.  If lights are on then it's closer to 10.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The days are also scattered with various responsibilities related to being Housemistress- girls wanting exits, seizing cell phones, sickness (unfortunately I already have a stockpile of hospital stories), fights, surprise role call, etc.  I'm enjoying being Housemistress- the girls are in desperate need of some female leadership.  More about that later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I almost forgot to mention that there has been an addition to my life!  His name is Sankofa.  Unfortunately the internet is too slow today to upload a picture.  I'll get some up soon.  Puppies are a handful!  I'll have to dedicate a whole post just to him and his cuteness (oh God I sound like my mother).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things are good.  I'm happy.  I am becoming a crazy dancer (school dances here are so so so much fun!).  Life is nice.  The first two months in Kpandai gave me a lot of time for introspection, which can be both cathartic and tortuous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news, there are a few things I wanted to mention.  First, I was quite sad to head about &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Randy_Pausch"&gt;Randy Pausch&lt;/a&gt;'s passing.  His strength was moving and inspiring.  I highly recommend viewing his &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo&amp;amp;eurl=http://download.srv.cs.cmu.edu/~pausch/"&gt;"Last Lecture"&lt;/a&gt; if you get a chance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Second, I have been hearing a lot about Geoffrey Canada- specifically on &lt;a href="http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?sched=1262"&gt;"This American Life"&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=94576366"&gt;"Fresh Air"&lt;/a&gt; (oh how I love Terry Gross!).  His is the president of the &lt;a href="http://www.hcz.org/"&gt;Harlem's Children Zone&lt;/a&gt; in New York.  The work he has done with that organization is incredibly ambitious- and it seems to be just what is needed for education reform in America.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lastly, I want to leave you with a Franciscan Blessing that my friend Tricia sent to me.  It's been a big help, so I thought I should pass it along:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"May you feel discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;May you feel anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may wish for justice, freedom, and peace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;May you feel enough foolishness to believe you can make a difference in this world, so you can do what others claim cannot be done."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for that Tricia.  I miss you all so much.  Thank you for all of the wonderful letters and kind words.  They really help to pick me up when it's needed.  I hop you're all fighting the good fight hard.  More to come soon.  Cheers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-6195645331985680136?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/6195645331985680136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=6195645331985680136' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/6195645331985680136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/6195645331985680136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/11/obama-rama.html' title='Obama-rama!'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-7179127229281133070</id><published>2008-08-26T18:25:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-08-26T18:29:43.369Z</updated><title type='text'>Hello!</title><content type='html'>I'm now officially a Volunteer!  More on that later.  Big travel ahead.  A few new &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/medindemegan/"&gt;pictures&lt;/a&gt; have been added.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two things:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, I've posted a new address on the right side bar.  The address in Tamale is faster, but it can only be used for letters/envelopes.  Please continue to use the Accra address for packages.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Second, I've created a &lt;a href="http://www.skype.com/"&gt;Skype&lt;/a&gt; account!  I can talk for free when I have the internet.  It's very cheap to call to international mobile phones using Skype as well... hopefully this will help to keep us all in touch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-7179127229281133070?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/7179127229281133070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=7179127229281133070' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7179127229281133070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/7179127229281133070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/08/hello.html' title='Hello!'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-8650689437135483536</id><published>2008-08-14T13:11:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:06:04.350Z</updated><title type='text'>Site Visit, Danger Time, and Other Oddities: Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;Where did I leave off?  My trip to Kpandai ended as well as it could, and I began the journey back to Suhyen.  I caught the (one and only) 4:30 am bus and made my way to Tamale.  I had a great time in Tamale, where I overnighted.  The PC has a sub-office there (also one in Kumasi), including a nice house where PCVs can sleep and cook.  The SOs are great places to sleep when you are traveling, or just to take a break from site (the PC actually gives us 2 mental health days a month to go there or visit someone, something I'm learning will be necessary).  Anyway, about 10 of us slept there, which made for a nice end to the trip.  Tamale is a large city, so we were able to find many obruni stores.  We were even able to find squash!  It was very tasty.  We had lots of fun drinking wine and cooking in an American-style kitchen (as you can see from the pictures, kitchens in Ghana are quite different).  Oh how I've missed spices!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We woke up the next morning to catch our bus to Kumasi.  Pretty uneventful.  The Kumasi bus station, Kejetia Station, is quite the zoo.  It is also the site of the Central Market, which I think is the largest open market in Ghana.  As soon as we were dropped, there were at least 5 different Ghanaian men fighting for our attention to their tros, grabbing our arms.  We get dragged by a driver who is willing to drive us to our respective villages (the volunteers are staying in 3 villages near each other- Suhyen, Kukurantumi, and Old Tafo).  We negotiate the price per person, and the driver says he is ready to go.  This is quite rare- when catching a tro at a station you almost always have to wait a significant amount of time before it fills.  The driver said he would take us without filling even though we stressed that we were not hiring him to take us as a private car.  He said it was ok and that we should just leave.  So leave we did.  It was nice to have a little extra room, not pushed up against a screaming child or sweaty creepy man asking you to take him to America.  We drop everyone off in their villages, collect their money, and head to Suhyen.  At the last stop the 3 of us remaining get out and hand the driver our money.  He looks at it and proceeds to literally throw it at us.  He begins to yell that we owe him more money than that.  After we had already negotiated a price and drove 4 hours he decides we owe him more money.  This grown man proceeds to have what amounted to a large temper tantrum.  He yells and yells at us, in both English and Twi.  I am pretty irritated at this point, and for some reason decide to engage and tell him (well, more like yell...) that he is lying, that we had settled the price before we got into his car.  He screams that we paid for a private car and that we owe him an extra 25 Ghana Cedis!  That is A LOT of money.  Way more than any of us have.  It seems that he thinks he can take advantage of these naive obruni.  At this point things are pretty loud, so many neighbors come out of their homes to watch the debacle.  Some people try to help settle, but this man is clearly not listening to anyone.  I actually started to get scared that we were going to get hurt, and that we couldn't just leave, so we ended up having to call our PC Homestay Coordinator to help us settle the situation.  Sam (The Man, aka Black Santa Claus) comes and saves the day.  Him and the erratic driver engage in a long and heated "discussion."  It was interesting to see how, even in the midst of a serious argument, respectful terms were being used between the two men.  I think the driver was insulting us Americans in Twi, but he addressed Sam in only the most respectful way.  In the end, they resolved the disagreement.  I'm not sure entirely what happened, but I think the PC paid off the driver.  Apparently hissy fits are still effective when you are an adult.  Lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally reached my house, I was trampled by children screaming my name.  It felt so wonderful to be home!  I had no idea how much I feel at home here now.  I was overwhelmed with affection.  To be honest, I would be happy to stay here with my family in Suhyen for the next 2 years.  I was at such ease when I arrived and saw everyone.  I am going to miss them so much when I leave.  I really feel like I have a family here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The few days since returning to Kpandai have more or less been a haze of stressful training events.  Things get pretty hot during a cooking session (communication issues and lack of cultural sensitivity on behalf of the Ghanaian trainers, in my opinion), but I suppose at this point it's not worth writing about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday evening I somehow managed to cook American food for my family (and everyone else in our house).  It was great fun!  With the limited cooking supplies, I decided to make French toast.  I found cinnamon and nutmeg at an obruni market in Koforidua.  I think it was actually the first time any of them had tasted either of those spices.  Syrup is nowhere to be found here, and I wasn't quite sure how to make it.  Instead, we cooked apple slices with margarine (no butter here), sugar, and cinnamon to put on top.  Very tasty!  My family seemed to like it a lot.  It was fun just to cook together and share a little American culture.  They say that we eat very sweet food, and I tell them that in America we like our sugar, that's why we are much fatter than them (and because most Americans don't do severe manual labor on a daily basis).  My host mother told me that she would like me to cook that for her again when she visits me in Kpandai.  I think that's a good thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past week us volunteers have been preoccupied with studying for the Oral Proficiency Exam.  I took the exam this morning.  It was stressful, but I think it went well.  It consisted of a 20 minute conversation with a native Twi speaker.  Who knew I could keep up?  It is a test with an international standard for grading- all PCVs in the world take it, and must pass with the level of "intermediate-mid."  In fact, if we don't pass we get sent home!  The PC is pretty strict about learning language.  I think that's a good policy.  It is so important to understand the local language, because that is the only way you can become integrated into a community.  When I go somewhere and use my Twi I always get an excited response.  For the community to see you that are making an effort to communicate with them means a lot, more than we can really understand.  Only the educated speak English, and that can be few and far between depending on which part of the country you are in.  There are many languages spoken in Ghana,  I can't even count them all (in our group alone, people are learning Twi, Ewe, Dagbani, Dagaare, Fante, Gonja, Grune, Kasem, Dangme, or Buili).  There have been efforts in the past to standardize Twi as the national language, but there were strong oppositions from other tribes that did not want to give up their native tongue.  Culture is so deeply rooted in language here, and your language identifies your tribe.  Tribal association is very important.  It is a bit difficult to understand as an American, but I am trying.  In a lot of ways it seems that Ghana would be better off with a single national language, but it is much more complicated than that.  As an unfortunate side effect, I think many of the smaller tribes and those speaking Northern languages are taken out of the decision-making process for the country because of their lack of understanding.  It seems that those that speak English and Twi are the ones in a position of power.  Divide and conquer, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An interesting thing that I have noticed here is how often men (and women) hold hands on the street (though heterosexual couples hardly ever do).  It is quite normal to see men showing each other affection.  This is not because homosexuality is accepted.  In fact, it is quite the opposite.  It is very taboo for someone to be homosexual.  It is actually against the law.  One may be beaten badly or even killed for being gay.  If one is gay it is not talked about at all.  As a result, these affections are common because no one would think that it meant you were gay.  Interesting, as it is quite the opposite in America.  You would never see two platonic men holding hands while walking down the street.  On one hand it is endearing to see the fondness friends have for each other, but on the other hand it is a sad reminder of how oppressed homosexuals are.  Conservative religion, especially Christianity, is so deeply entrenched in the society here.  Sometimes it seems that people don't even understand what they are saying, rather they are repeating what some fanatical missionary told them.  It is dangerous to come here and tell people things, whether about God or anything else.  There seems to be a prevailing lack of critical thinking.  Phrases are always repeated without any thought given.  I'll save that rant for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, homestay is wrapping up this week.  I'm sad to leave my family here.  They have been so wonderful towards me.  I am already excited to come back and visit them.  I am especially excited to introduce my own family to them!  While in Koforidua today I'm heading to the bead market to find some nice parting gifts.  Not much is going on for the rest of the week.  We will have another Trainers vs. Trainee Football Match (American kicked Ghana's butt last time, haha).  On Sunday there will also be the Water Sachet Olympics.  Should be a good time.  On Tuesday we have our official Swearing-In Ceremony, where we make the transition from Trainee to Volunteer (you can now address my mail as PCV).  It sounds like there will be a lot of fanfare.  We will somehow perform our traditional dance, get dressed in the traditional clothing, and give a performance in Twi.  Rumors are swirling that it will be nationally televised!  Yikes.  After the ceremony, we head off to site.  I'm hoping to make a few stops along the way, play tourist for a few days.  Then life is going to change.  I think the next few months are going to be tough.  I'm very excited, and very nervous.  No longer will we have our Ghanaian trainers around, no longer will we have our American buddies around.  I guess life is just beginning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you all are well.  I miss you so much.  It's wonderful to get your mail.  Thanks to everyone who has sent a letter!  I was especially thrilled to get a letter from Tiff in the mail!  I will respond soon!  Cheers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-8650689437135483536?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/8650689437135483536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=8650689437135483536' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8650689437135483536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8650689437135483536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/08/site-visit-danger-time-and-other_14.html' title='Site Visit, Danger Time, and Other Oddities: Part 2'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-4666291854417601991</id><published>2008-08-12T10:54:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:06:54.624Z</updated><title type='text'>Site Visit, Danger Time, and Other Oddities: Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;lot has happened since my last post!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;First of all, how can you tell you are a Peace Corps Volunteer?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When you don't find your tan lines until after you bath.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;I suppose the most anticipated event was site visit.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We trekked out to Bunso College (the site of a beautiful arboretum) for a 2 day workshop with our soon-to-be Headmasters and Counterpart Teachers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Immediately the cultural differences were felt.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was largely due to the fact that there was only 1 female in the group of Ghanaian Educators.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Gender roles in Ghana are very different than in America.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That is still taking a lot of adjusting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some of the headmasters appeared to be, for lack of a better term, chauvinistic jerks, with very little respect for the female volunteers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(One of my friends was actually told by her headmaster that she is forbidden to go to the river during her "danger time" because she is dirty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How backwards is that?)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Luckily, I seem to have a pretty wonderful headmaster.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He seems to have a progressive outlook on education (well, as progressive as one can expect in this country).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I initially felt comfortable and happy with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hope that it will work out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His name is Samson.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My counterpart teacher also seems like a nice guy, though I've spent less time with him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My counterpart will more or less be my liason at the school for any problems.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ghanaian schools have a strict hierarchy (a la "Harry Potter"), so most of my day to day problems will not be dealt with through the headmaster.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;More on that later.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;After our workshop, we headed out at 6 am on Friday morning for Kpandai.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We did not arrive until 8 pm on Saturday night.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yes, you read that correctly, it took 2 DAYS of travel to reach my site.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ok, we weren't traveling the whole time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For those keeping track, we left at 6 on a tro-tro to Kumasi.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;From Kumasi, we caught a metro bus to Tamale.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That took 1 day of travel.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think we arrived in Tamale around 6 pm.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We overnighted in Tamale, as it is rather dangerous to travel at night.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My headmaster's family actually lives in Tamale, so I spent the night at their house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I met his wonderful children, and I think made some nice friends with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They will be great assets for bartering when I come to Tamale to shop.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm looking forward to spending more time with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;From Tamale, there is only 1 bus to Kpandai, leaving every day at 1 (technically it leaves at 1, but I don't think it ever actually pulls out of the station until 2.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To leave Kpandai, that same bus only leaves once a day at 4:30 in the morning!)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The distance between Tamale and Kpandai really isn't that great, but the journey still takes quite a bit of time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think it is about 200 km, though the trip is around 6 hours.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the north, and in the Volta Region, the roads are terrible.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Pot holes are everywhere, they are only dirt, often devastated by heavy rains or winds, through the bush, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The stretch of road that leads into Kpandai off of the main road is about 25 miles.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That 25 miles takes 3 hours by private car!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really am pretty far away from everything.  It will be worth it, though.  It is absolutely beautiful here.   The north is vastly different than the south.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Upon arrival I was taken to a guesthouse, since I was told that my house wasn't finished yet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The next day I was taken to see my house, and "not finished yet" means no roof, no floor, no doors, no windows.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just some cement walls.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was a bit of a shock.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am still feeling pretty stressed about that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am told that it will be finished by the time I arrive (in just about 2 weeks), though I find that very hard to believe.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Peace Corps is already preparing me to live in "temporary housing" (i.e. a bed at a guesthouse) for up to the first 6 months.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really hope that is not the case.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are a lot of politics going on in the town, and unfortunately I think I have landed right in the middle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have heard bits and pieces, but I think I will wait to write more on that once I have spent some more time in the village.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Another surprise in Kpandai was that Twi is not the common language! &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Nawuri is actually the common language of the village.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess there are bout 7 languages spoken in all.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The Nawuri tribe is rather small, and the language is only spoken in a small area of Ghana (maybe 3 or 4 villages).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Gonja used to actually be the primary language spoken, but about 15 years ago there was a war between the Gonja and Nawuri tribes, and the Nawuri tribe prevailed, kicking the Gonjas away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The Gonjas still dominate the majority of the region.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, Twi is not common in Kpandai.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A few people speak it, but not many.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess that by speaking a language other than Twi, I may inadvertently involve myself in the tribal conflict.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I suppose Twi is seen as a neutral language.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This will make integrating into the community a much more difficult challenge.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm hoping that I will be able to hire a tutor to help me pick up a little of each other language.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm told that could be a problem, though, because Nawuri is such a small language, and thus there are not many defined rules or grammar.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It sounds as if it is hardly written.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At least at my school English is the spoken language, as with every secondary school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are also bound to be some Twi speakers among the students.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At schools in Ghana, one applies to secondary school after taking the BECE exam at the end of JSS (Junior Secondary School).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They submit their school preferences with their exam results, and then are admitted to a certain number of schools around the country.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In a way it is similar to the college application process in America.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As a result, most of the students at the school are not from the town where the school is located.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;So, it seems I'm going to have a few challenges when I get to site.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Luckily, I have a great headmaster and counterpart, and I must say that they bent over backwards to accommodate me during my stay in Kpandai.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel good having them on my side, and in a lot of ways I think I am better off than some of the other volunteers.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;I spent most of my time at my headmaster's side, either walking around the school or exploring the village (the school is about 2 km away from the village).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is also new to Kpandai, so we both went to meet the police inspector, the local doctor, etc.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is hard to remark on the village yet, especially since I was not really able to communicate with many people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I did enjoy the school, and am looking forward to my time there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was introduced at the morning assembly, and now the students shout "Auntie Yaa" when they see me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess "Auntie" is a term of respect.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am still trying to understand the layout of the school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was also informed that I will be the Girls' Housemistress!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Apparently I will be the first female teacher ever at the school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The school has about 100 girls (compared to about 750 boys), and they live in a dorm on the edge of campus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am still not entirely sure what my responsibilities will be, but my headmaster has talked to me at length about the importance of a female role model.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think this will be very exciting!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I do know that one responsibility as housemistress is to sit on the disciplinary committee.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That will certainly be interesting... I will also supposedly be teaching physics and biology.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There actually is no biology program at the school, so when I return I will help to organize the curriculum and get the program off the ground.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;On my last day we took a trip to the nearest bank, in Bimbilla, about 3 hours away by private car.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm still not sure how to get there besides that 4:30 am bus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think the only other way people travel is by motorcycle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are no tro-tros in the north!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I never thought I would miss them so much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess the roads are too bad and the towns too spread apart.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Moto is the way to go.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everybody seems to have one!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Unfortunately, Peace Corps Volunteers are strictly prohibited from riding one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If we get caught, we get a plane ticket home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That's a bummer.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I will be getting a bicycle, though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My headmaster has already forbidden me from riding the 25 miles into Bimbilla.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The dirt roads are basically carved out of the bush, and he thinks that a white girl riding alone with no one else around could be quite dangerous.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess he's got a point, though I'm starting to suspect that he's a bit overprotective.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anyway, Bimbilla was interesting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I had a nice conversation with my headmaster along the way- I like him more and more each day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It's a larger town, and the location of Ghana Commercial Bank.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Rule of thumb, if you plan to bank in Ghana, never use that bank.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Peace Corps told us to just pick up an application from the nearest bank- simple enough, right?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I walk up to the door, and I swear I've been transported to the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There appears to be absolutely no order, just everybody yelling, obviously waiting in "lines" for hours.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just ridiculous.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes I wonder how things get done here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I walk up, and of course since I'm the obruni the armed guard pushes me to the front of the line.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I ask the teller for papers to open a bank account, and he tells me that he cannot give them to me because they are not allowed to be taken off of bank property.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So he sends me to a tiny office where the bank managers work.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I go to the office and wait a few minutes, again ushered to the front of the line.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tell the secretary what I am here for, he asks for my ID, which I give to him, and he tells me that it is insufficient.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Peace Corps holds on to all of our important identification, and we are only given a Peace Corps ID.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Apparently that is not good enough.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I am sent to the first bank manager and explain my situation, and he tells me that I cannot open a bank account unless I have some sort of Letter of Introduction.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He tells me that he knows Peace Corps and that they always do that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am getting pretty confused and frustrated.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All I want is the application!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I get on the phone with PC and try to navigate the bureaucratic BS.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After about a half hour they agree to just open the account for me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, they need a copy of my PC ID.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh, but they don't have a copier in the office, so I'll need to go down the street and find one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I obviously look a bit distressed, so he sends me to the co-manager, who then sends someone to fetch a copy "for this beautiful woman."&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I finally get the application, fill it out, and give it to this other manager.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He just can't seem to keep his hands off me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He doesn't seem to care about my application and instead proceeds to tell me that I will be his wife, and on and on and on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I try to be nice, but then he gets my application and says that he now has my address and will come visit me in Kpandai!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How inappropriate is that?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To make a long story not as long, I finally left and now have been receiving phone calls from said bank manager.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He took my phone number from my application and is now calling to tell me how he loves me!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am not happy about this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That is one thing that would not happen in America.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How unprofessional.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My headmaster tells me he is a "cheap man" and that I should stay away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I will no longer be banking at Ghana Commercial Bank.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;On our way home I think my headmaster could sense my stress, so he let me be for the most part.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At this point in the car I am starting to get really upset, just not happy with my site.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have no house, I don't speak the language, creepy men seem to be everywhere, and I am isolated from what feels like everyone else.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really felt like I was going to breakdown.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just one thing on top of the other.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even just getting things to put in my house will be a journey, I'll have to go to Tamale, which is 6 hours away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That becomes an overnight trip.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just want to see my friends, my family, be around other Americans.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am sick of being called obruni, I am sick of no one understanding my English, I am sick of having to deal with these ridiculous stereotypes, I am sick of having to shower with cockroaches, I am sick of not being able to eat my own food, I am sick of how backwards Ghana seems, I am sick of how Peace Corps Ghana is run.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am just getting sick of it all.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eventually I calm down in my head, and I begin to realize that I'm just going to have to accept this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is what I signed up for.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If I can't handle it, then I need to reevaluate why I'm here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn't come here to be with other Americans, I didn't come here to live an American lifestyle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think up to this point life here hasn't been so bad, we've been well taken care of.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess I thought the transition to site would be easy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It's beginning to sink in how tough this is really going to be.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was also am getting upset with myself for stressing about these material objects, or lack thereof.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The people that live here seem to be so happy, and I have more than they could ever imagine having.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I still have a lot of emotional reconciling to work out, but I hope that I'll be able to manage. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When we arrived back in Kpandai my headmaster took me for a Fanta.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We just sat and enjoyed a chat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am learning how important these little moments are.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How wonderful it is to just be able to sit down with someone and not think about anything else but the moment you're in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm not sure why I don't seem to appreciate these as much in America.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think perhaps it is because we don't need them as often at home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We know how to deal with our problems, we actually have resources to solve our problems.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess I do appreciate them, just in a different way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I suppose at home I am not so desperate for a break.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;This is only part 1... I've got a big language test to prepare for, so I'll continue this post on Thursday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Cheers.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;(I've also posted some new pictures and added some links to blogs of other volunteers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They might be a little better at capturing this adventure than me.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-4666291854417601991?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/4666291854417601991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=4666291854417601991' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4666291854417601991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4666291854417601991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/08/site-visit-danger-time-and-other.html' title='Site Visit, Danger Time, and Other Oddities: Part 1'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-8515925151726788131</id><published>2008-07-28T13:11:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:07:13.091Z</updated><title type='text'>What's your day name?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;An interesting thing about Ghana is the use of day names.  The Akan tribe, which populates about 75% of Ghana, uses the day names when a child is born.  They are not actually given their birth name until 8 days after their birth.  It is more common here to be called by your day name than by your birth name.  For instance, by day name is Yaa, and my family's last name is Oduro, so I am known as Yaa Oduro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Day male/female&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Monday-Edwoada   Kwadwo/Adwoa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tuesday-Ebenada   Kwabena/Abena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wednesday-Wukuada   Kwaku/Akua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Thursday-Yawoada   Yaw/Yaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Friday-Efiada   Kofi/Afia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Saturday-Memeneda   Kwame/Ama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sunday-Kwasiada   Kwasi/Akosua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kofi Annan is from Ghana, so Kofi is not his actual given name, but his day name.  When people here ask my name and I give them my day name, they get extremely excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The names are often further divided depending on your birth placement, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anyway, I've been a bit under the weather for the past few days.  I'm pretty sure that I've contracted giardia.  Not much fun.  It's a parasite that lives in your stomach, causing a plethora of unpleasant things.  It is transmitted through fecally-contaminated food.  I guess I should stop eating so much shit.  Haha, no, I think that's what happens when you live with so many children.  Unfortunately, most people here only "wash" their hands with water- soap is hardly used.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I gave a presentation on Saturday about children's games and rhymes.  I actually took some video of my children performing the songs, but I have not been able to load them online yet.  I will try to do that soon.  This next week will be pretty exciting.  On Wednesday, our headmaster and teaching-counterpart will be arriving for a 2 day workshop.  After the workshop, they will take us for a site visit!  I will spend about a week in Kpandai to tour the school I will teach at and to see my house.  I am very excited.  It's amazing how quickly training is wrapping up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I think I'll be able to write more during site visit.  It will be nice for things to slow down for a few days.  Until then.... nante yie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-8515925151726788131?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/8515925151726788131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=8515925151726788131' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8515925151726788131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8515925151726788131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/07/whats-your-day-name.html' title='What&apos;s your day name?'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-1568498773782272668</id><published>2008-07-21T14:27:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:07:50.200Z</updated><title type='text'>Story from the trail...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Picture this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Saturday afternoon, pretty hot, super humid.  We decide to catch a tro into Koforidua so that Meg can get a cell phone.  Somehow they pile the 3 of us into the tro, though there isn't really even room for one.  Along the way the engine stops and the driver must continuously restart it.  The rumbling under our feet (where the engine is located) is getting louder and more violent.  We're convinced that we are going to die in an explosion.  (Actually, Meg and I are convinced that we'll die because we're directly above the engine, but that Diana behind us will only be permanently disfigured.)  Eventually the engine will not restart, so the men are forced to push the tro up the hill.  Once they get it up the hill they are able to momentarily restart and more or less roll down to the station.  At the same time, the mate will not stop starting at my chest, making hissing noises at me to get my attention.  Behind us, Diana is getting many marriage proposals.  She decides to explain the difference between "like" and "love" to a Ghanaian man that is only thinking with his pants, and really does not speak English.  Somehow we manage to get off the tro with our limbs intact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Just another trip in Ghana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-1568498773782272668?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/1568498773782272668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=1568498773782272668' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/1568498773782272668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/1568498773782272668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/07/story-from-trail.html' title='Story from the trail...'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-8394033261184322368</id><published>2008-07-15T12:19:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:09:39.909Z</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Shenanigans</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;What a weekend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My family found out that my birthday was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; on Saturday, so they had to throw a dance party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;And what a party it was!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;They got a large speaker for music, and the children saved their money to get toffees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Somehow, everyone in town seemed to know that it was my birthday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Wherever I walked that day people came up to say, "Happy Birthday."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I think the party that night was "the event" in town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Just about every child showed up to dance!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It really was just a sea of Ghanaian children, spotted with the occasional white face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have just posted some pictures if anyone is interested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have to say, I've really made some great friends here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A few of them went into town and somehow managed to kluge together a birthday cake!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh, what a surprise that was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;They also found some "diamond earrings" to match my elephant bling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The others pitched in to find my a wonderful cloth to make a dress with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It is beautiful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My family also presented my with a Kente cloth (the bright yellow wrapped around me in some of the pictures).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;That is the traditional, hand-woven cloth used for special events.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I was so surprised.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Of course, they had to wrap it around me and sing the birthday song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I was so flattered, I think I am starting to feel at home here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was good times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A few people ended up staying over for a slumber party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don't think we got any sleep &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;that night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Really, all we did was laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;And, of course, a few people had to go buy out the spot and bring it to our house, so there really was no sleeping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We woke up at 6 the next morning to get ready for our big trip to the waterfalls!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We actually got quite the treat that morning- when Liz left, she gave me her French Press and a pound of ground Starbucks coffee (gosh, I never thought I would be so happy to drink Starbucks).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Having that around has been pretty amazing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;You can’t exactly run to a coffee shop here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am usually drinking instant Nescafe in the morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;One of the PCVRFs was able to get some cars to take us up to Boti Falls, about an hour outside of Koforidua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;They were so beautiful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We then decided to hike from Boti Falls down to Akaa Falls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We were told it was about a 40 minute hike, but because of the GMT, it took a little over 2 hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was well worth it, though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We actually hiked through the jungle, up, down, and over rock cliffs, through streams and over all sorts of animals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I had my first "I'm in Africa" moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;If there was any question about where I was, I can confirm now that I truly am in Africa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It really was everything that I thought of in my head at home of what Africa would be like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've also posted some pictures of the trip, although they really don't captu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;re what it's truly like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe some of you will get the chance to come hike it....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;There are some great rocky bluffs overlooking the falls at Akaa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I think that next weekend a few of us may go book with a picnic lunch and some books to take in the view.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was just breathtaking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now that practicum is over, we are going full swing with language.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, I should probably go study my Twi now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I’ll write more soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;(As most of you can probably assume, I don’t have a shortage of things to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We really haven’t had much time to catch our breath yet.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Akyire yebehyia!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;**On my way to post this today, I had to beg a ride to Koforidua (hitchhiking is sometimes the only way to get around).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;When I got in the car, the driver was blasting Luther Vandross!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It was pretty amusing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;A lot of people here seem to really enjoy that early 90s easy listening stuff.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;One of my neighbors is always blasting Celine Dion from her house.  It's a not-so-subtle reminder of home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-8394033261184322368?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/8394033261184322368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=8394033261184322368' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8394033261184322368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8394033261184322368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/07/birthday-shenanigans.html' title='Birthday Shenanigans'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-8982346942281049154</id><published>2008-07-07T13:17:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:17:12.200Z</updated><title type='text'>Training so far...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;**I just put up another post from June 30 as well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Last night was a big game of Red Rover!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Since I practically live with a football team, games like that are much fun to play.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I taught them a few nights ago, and now they just can't get enough of it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The culture here is much more violent- kids constantly hitting each other, a routine form of punishment, etc- so games like that go over much easier.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The parents seem to find it pretty amusing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It has kind of become the nightly form of entertainment.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Actually, last night we had a dance party.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was so much fun!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One of the children here dances like a mini-Michael Jackson.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is hilarious!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I first arrived in Ghana I was constantly being asked to dance for people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am coming to realize now that is because dancing is so enmeshed in the culture here- most of the dance moves the children have are derived from traditional Ghanaian dances.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We don't have so much of an equivalent in America.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;I guess most of us learned how to do-si-do in elementary school, but there is no way in hell I am doing that again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Luckily, we all have begun to learn traditional Ghanaian dance!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Saturday at training a professional dance/drum troupe performed for us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They also began to teach us how to drum and dance ourselves!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Apparently, at the swearing-in ceremony (when we make the official transition from PCT to PCV) we will be putting on a traditional Ghanaian performance for our homestay families.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am so excited!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It will likely be nationally televised- how crazy is that?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At first I was attracted to the drums.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were lots of fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eventually though I was bitten by the dancing bug.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh what a blast it was!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am so pumped that we will be doing this every week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A lot of the dancing was surprisingly dirty by American standards.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I first arrived at homestay and saw the children dancing I was taken aback by their moves.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thought to myself, "My God American culture is ruining these children."&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thought they had picked up the dirty moves from American television!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ha, apparently not.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Those moves are actually from the traditional dances.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am a bit more comforted by that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am hoping to learn soon the different stories that are told through dance.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think we will get to that next week.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So dancing has become quite the past time here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What a great workout!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I actually got quite a bit of dancing in Saturday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After training a few of us hit up a "spot" (Ghanaian for bar).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We kluged together some very tasty milkshakes!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We mixed some Fan-Ice, Coke, and sachets of whiskey together.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think it was the best tasting thing I have had in Ghana so far.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is amazing how much I have come to appreciate cold things (ice really doesn't exist here).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Lots of dancing at the spot, and then the kids wanted to have a dance party when I came home!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What is Fan-Ice?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is a Fan product!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fans are Ghana's answer to ice cream.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Young boys ride their bikes around town that carry around packs frozen the night before.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If you get one in the afternoon, it will likely be almost entirely melted.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The earlier in the day, the better.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Most things here are drank out of plastic baggies (see my picture of the water sachet on the Flickr page).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This "ice cream" is the same way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There are 3 varieties that come in small bags.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You just rip off a corner with your teeth and suck.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fan-Choco tastes mostly like chocolate water.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fan-Ice is a lot like vanilla frosting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Fan-Yogo is close to strawberry yogurt.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is probably the closest thing to dairy that I will find here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When it comes to calcium, bone chewing is the popular way to go.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I haven't been able to bring myself to sucking the marrow out of bones yet...&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Needless to say, it was quite a relief to receive calcium supplements in the mail (thanks again, Mom!). &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Dairy is really hard to find here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Probably because refrigerators are pretty expensive and electricity is often intermittent.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And if you do find some milk (likely goat milk), it certainly will not be pasteurized.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It's only been a month and I have already started to daydream about cheese.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And snow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Speaking of snow- Samantha...........)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway, training so far has been ok.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Often frustrating, but I have learned a lot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As many of you know, Ghana is in the GMT time zone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have come to learn that GMT actually stands for Ghana Maybe Time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Seriously.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nothing ever starts on time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am slowly learning to adjust, but I have been pulling my hair out in the process.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am making a conscious effort to not complain about this too much and just roll with the punches.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It really grates on my nerves though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I've ranted about this a few times to my father already.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We began our teaching practicum last week, and will continue throughout this week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am teaching 11 periods/week of Form 2 Physics at GHANASS (in Koforidua, the district capital near my village, Suhyen), the premier Ghanaian secondary school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because it is such a competitive school (to enter secondary school you must pass a very difficult test and pay a large sum of money), the students are very bright and have a decent grasp on English.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I haven't had much difficulty with the students.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The biggest gripe I get from them is complaining about my No Calculators rule.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My biggest difficulty with the teaching has been a lack of resources.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The books I was provided with are pretty much abysmal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Once I start teaching at my site school I will hopefully be able to use my own textbooks from home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I spent last week teaching Coulomb's Law, Electric Fields, and Electric Potential.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tomorrow I will finish Electric Potential and continue with Capacitors/Capacitance.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Luckily I just finished the MCAT, so much of this is still fresh in my mind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I also had a wonderful resource this weekend.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One of the PCVRFs here has a PhD in Physics Education (from OSU actually!), so he has helped me to map out my lesson plans.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Voltage and electric fields are some pretty abstract topics, which is tough enough to deal with, but combined with their mediocre English and poor educational background it is a hurdle (even though GHANASS is a good school, there are still many, many flaws in the design of the education system here.... more about that later).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not a lot of critical thinking or inductive reasoning going on- and especially no hypothesizing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anyway, it was very helpful to have someone with a lot of experience help me out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I should also say here that many of the skills I obtained from leading workshops have been of great help (thanks Ralf).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Aside from practicum, we have language class 2 hours per day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My group consists of 4 people, including myself, and our trainer, Esther.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think my Twi is coming along quite nicely!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It's almost entirely phonetic at this point, so I can't write out much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So far I can navigate easily through greetings, basic verbs, say where I'm from, and explain what my family members do.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I also have picked up a few other choice phrases (mostly related to marriage).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hear more than I speak.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(Somewhat graphic paragraph) Two days per week are actually spent at the PC training site in Kukurantumi (Suhyen is right in between Koforidua and Kukurantumi).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every Friday afternoon is a 4 hour medical session with the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Two weeks ago we went over malaria and all of the different kinds of diarrhea we can get (no, I haven't joined the club yet- I think the African travelers here will know what I'm referring to), as well as the garden variety tropical diseases (giardia, yellow fever, etc).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh, and worms/amoebas.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I had no idea there were so many different kind of worms.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Apparently it is quite rare for an African PCV to return to the States without getting worms at least once.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Great, something to look forward to.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tapeworm, whipworm, roundworm, pinworm, and on and on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They seem to be transmitted mostly through fecal matter and improperly cooked meat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Food for thought- if you think you have pinworm, put tape on your butt before you go to sleep and see if there are any stuck to the tape the next day. Those worms are supposed to be quite small. Lovely.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Along those lines, we also learned how to take our own blood and take our own stool samples!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh it was so much fun (sense the heavy sarcasm).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh but the activities in this week's lesson were much more exciting- we had the condom olympics!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This week's session was on sex, HIV, and STDs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They actually brought us a bunch of bright pink devices (read: dildos) to put condoms on in front of the group.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And then we had a competition between 2 teams to see who could put one on properly (open the package, grab the tip, unroll correctly, remove, and tie off) the fastest.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My team won by a landslide.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have a picture of Ralph (the 85 year old) putting one on his "penis stick" model (pronounced pen-ISS in Ghanaian English).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was pretty hilarious.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Needless to say, the PCMO has forced us all to become very comfortable talking about sex and BMs (I'll spare you all the discussion on the latter).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It's really a good thing, because as teachers we are resources for students to ask questions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Actually, this week we are all required to give an 80 minute HIV/sex lesson/discussion in our classes (and a possible condom demonstration, depending on the school).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We are also expected to have HIV education as a component of our secondary site projects.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sex doesn't seem to be talked about much here, so healthy and honest discussions are very important.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A common misbelief here is that having sex with a virgin will cure AIDS.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Really, I'm not kidding.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Another prevalent comment from the men is, "If you tie a condom after it's used, you can't get the sperm out. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I am strong, so my sperm is very valuable.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can't waste it, so I put a hole in the condom for the sperm to come out."&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Seriously.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is pretty important stuff.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Facts like that tend to be pretty sobering for the group.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'll report back how my lecture this week goes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Also, if you look at my body you would think that I have the chicken pox.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The mosquitos love me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am constantly saying, "Mtomtom ka me!"&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;("The mosquitos bite me," in Twi)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My family laughs at me because I am constantly slapping or itching myself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They hurt so much!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess most Ghanaians are used to it, so they don't itch much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hope I get to that point.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At last count I had 27 bites.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They get everywhere.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;God forbid I wear a skirt or dress.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Those mosquitos have no modesty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am seriously doubting the repellent I have been using.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe it's time to switch to a new brand.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm sure my liver is full of plasmodium right now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At this rate I'll have malaria soon.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Ok, a bit melodramatic, but this biting stinks big time.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Whenever I get a new bite the younger kids like to come up and point it out to me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or, for that matter, if I get a zit on my face.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They just walk right up and touch it!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Needless to say, all of this sweating isn't conducive to clear skin.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Come to think of it, my mosquito repellent probably isn't working well because I sweat it right off when I step outside.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh well.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;All in all, this week has been better than last.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am adjusting pretty well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was measured this week by the adipumni (seamstress) for my first Ghanaian outfit!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'll have to get pictures up of that when it is finished.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It's been a good week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tiring, but satisfying.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I've made some pretty fun friends here, and I am lucky to have such a wonderful host family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Those kids keep me on my toes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They've even been exercising with me in the morning!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They can sort of sing "Merchandise" by Fugazi now!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is hilarious.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I'm trying to use the same mix each day so they can pick up some of the songs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Good times.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Thanks for the packages and phone calls!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is so wonderful to hear from you all.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My first letter arrived this week, from Caroline!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thank you, I was so happy to read it!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Really, nothing beats a letter from home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mail call is every Friday- everyone is in anticipation Friday mornings.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;People were pretty envious of me this past Friday- three packages and a letter!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thanks for everything.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I miss you all and hope you're doing well. Cheers.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-8982346942281049154?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/8982346942281049154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=8982346942281049154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8982346942281049154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8982346942281049154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/07/training-so-far.html' title='Training so far...'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-8729391765568628754</id><published>2008-07-03T16:44:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:10:46.021Z</updated><title type='text'>Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Some photos are finally up! I will post some more entries when I have some more time to write them. They keep us so busy here... I should have time to get them online this weekend. I hope you all are well!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-8729391765568628754?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/8729391765568628754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=8729391765568628754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8729391765568628754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/8729391765568628754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/07/photos.html' title='Photos'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-732202433377510648</id><published>2008-06-30T13:05:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:11:28.940Z</updated><title type='text'>Meh</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;It has been a long week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Probably the most difficult to so far.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A lot has been going on, though not much has actually happened.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;The biggest thing is that one of my good friends here was med-sepped (Medically Separated).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was not her choice- it was Washington's.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Without going into detail, I will say that it was a sad week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Many tears were shed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The group has been together less than a month, but already it feels like family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We are experiencing this catastrophic life change together, so to lose one definitely shakes the field.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The experience has also been a not-so-subtle reminder that the Peace Corps is indeed an agency of the US government.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The way that they handled the situation is very unsettling.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We were told one thing before we left the country, and then something very different happens once we are in country.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At this time I do not have a lot of faith in how the program is run. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;We started with 35.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We are actually down to 33.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Earlier in the week another person chose to ET (Early Termination).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is essentially the same thing is quitting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Didn't expect it so soon.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;If I can just get through training.....&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-732202433377510648?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/732202433377510648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=732202433377510648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/732202433377510648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/732202433377510648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/06/meh.html' title='Meh'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-3936223664893072315</id><published>2008-06-22T17:42:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:11:59.208Z</updated><title type='text'>PST Begins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;**I actually posted 2 entries, since I am not able to access the internet much.  Might want to read the Hiawa entry first.**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;**Also major bummer, my picture files are too large for Flickr, so I will have to resize them at home and bring them back to post another time.**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maadwo!  Wo ho te sen?  Me ho ye pa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;After returning from Hiawa, PST (Pre-Service Training) began.  Diana is my roommate again- she is one of my buddies.  We are enablers to each other, big time.  We have lots of fun.  I think we annoy some people at night because we cannot stop laughing and talking.  Anyway, training has been exhausting.  We start at 7:00 am and finish at 7:00 pm.  There are countless sessions so far- safety and security, diversity, cross-cultural exchange, language, and on and on (and on and on and on...).  It is very educational, but at times it is a bit much.  I won't bore with the details.  Luckily I am surrounded by a great group of people, so it is bearable.  Many of the trainers are PCVRFs (Peace Corps Volunteer Resource Facilitators... another acronym, they are never ending), which is great because they have already been here about a year, meaning they have lots to share.  The big news we have all been waiting for is our site assignment.  We had some site interviews where we could state our preferences and tell the APCDs (Assistant Peace Corps Directors) more about ourselves and what skills we have brought with us.  I was pretty set on JHS.  At most SHS (Secondary High School), the teachers live inside of a school compound, more removed from the community.  My preference was to live inside of the community.  I also wanted to live somewhere that I could get fruit and vegetables year around.  The North is so far (we're talking up to 2 days of traveling) and so dry that often produce does not make it up there.  In my interview, I began to express these thoughts, and I was stopped in my tracks.  I was told that my site was already picked out for me- I will teach Physics is SHS.  I guess there are not too many people here (i.e. 1 other person) that are comfortable with physics.  However, I was not given the details at that time.  Meh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;After an excruciating wait, we were officially given our site assignments the next day.  The PCVRFs drew a large map of Ghana with chalk on the ground and labelled our sites on it.  It was wonderful!  They read out our assignments in a ceremonial fashion.  We were all very nervous, not just because it is where we will be living for 2 years, but also because it will determine what village around Kukurantumi we will live in for our homestay (the next 3 months).  The group was split into villages based on the language we will learn for our site.  We will be in small groups 4 days per week, and will meet with the large group only twice per week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Drumroll please......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The official site assignment (straight from my site description):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Name of PCT:         Megan Lockwood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sector:                        Science&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Name of School:      Kpandai Senior High School (pronounced bahn-dye)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Location:                    Northern Region&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Site Language:         Twi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The Community:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kpandai is the district capitol of the newly created Kpandai District.  The people here are mainly yam and maize farmers.  They also cultivate groundnut, guinea corn, and engage in small commercial activities.  They export their produce directly to Accra through the Volta Region, using Damanko Bridge.  The main source of water is pipe borne from a mechanized bore hole and electricity supply is from the national grid.  The main festivals are the "Yam" and "Guinea Corn" festivals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The School:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kpandai Senior High School was established in January 1991 with the advent of the Educational Reforms of 1985.  The school runs three programs- Agriculuture, Business, and General Arts.  Kpandai Senior High School needs accommodation to attract more qualified teaching staff.  It is a day school with hostel facilities and with an enrollment of about 815.  The source of water is pipe borne and electricity supply is from the national grid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Accommodation:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The accommodation is a bungalow about half a kilometer from the school, which will not be shared.  There is a toilet and bath facility attached to the bungalow.  The source of water is pipe borne and electricity supply is from the national grid."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Very exciting!  My location is in the Northern region, though on the very edge in the eastern part, right near Lake Volta, bordering the Volta Region (Ghana has 10 regions in total).  I am pretty remote from other volunteers, though I am sure we will find a way to travel and see each other.  I was thrilled to read that my housing accommodation will not be within the school compound!  I now have the best of both worlds- teaching at a higher level and living within the community.  I am told that is somewhat rare.  I am also happy to hear that I supposedly will have pipe borne water and electricity.  Not everyone is so lucky.  Who knows if that will actually be the case when I arrive.  Even if it is not, and I am without those things, I will cope just fine.  My VQ host did not have running water, and it was easy to adapt.  That's what I'm here for- to learn how to deal without those things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am also very excited that my site language will be Twi.  I feel like I am just beginning to get a grasp of it.  It is the most commonly spoken language in Ghana, and it is necessary for any travel.  I was nervous to work on a second language, ultimately becoming passable in 2 instead of a master of 1.  I hope now that I will be able to increase my skills and become somewhat fluent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;And also, my host family speaks Twi!  Yes, last night I met my host family and spent the first night in my new room.  So far I am enjoying myself very much.  They live in Suhyen (pronounced sue-shin), a small community outside of Kukurantumi, on the way to Kofaridua (the district capitol, where I have found the internet!  pronounced kofa-ridge-ooh-uh)  My host mother and host father are very nice, though still a bit shy.  Their English is not bad.  The host mother owns this housing unit, which actually has 4 apartments.  The tenants all share one yard, and seem very much like a single large family.  Between the "house" there is 12 children!  It is like I live with a football team!  It is wonderful.  The children are great.  They range from 1 year to 14.  All day today I played football and this clap/jump game, had a dance party, and got out the frisbee.  I interact mostly with the children.  I think my host parents are pleased that I am entertaining them.  When I walk, I literally have 5 children per hand.  They are constantly fighting about who gets to hold my hand.  I have not taken any pictures here yet, but I will post some soon once I do.  There is so much to tell about what it is like living here now.  I suppose the most exciting thing is that it (finally) feels like I am no longer on vacation- I have my own room.  I am no longer bunking with someone, living out of a suitcase.  Once I have spent some more time here, I will be able to process my thoughts in a better way and then I will write about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I should also remark that I at last am eating Ghanaian food.  The first 2 weeks was fried chicken and rice.  Every day.  Lunch and dinner.  I repeat, every day.  If I never eat fried chicken again in my life I will be a happy person.  Luckily, my homestay mother is a wonderful cook.  They give me so much food!  My stomach is still adjusting to the food (and the heat), so I am not able to eat much.  Last night they made me fufu and chicken stew.  This morning I had an egg sandwich (so good) and for lunch I had kontomire stew (the leaf of the coco yam).  The kontomire is by far my favorite Ghanaian dish so far.  Although, fried plantains and beans are pretty tasty as well.  I have yet to use any silverware.  I think I would get laughed at if I did.  It's apart of the culture, and I am trying to integrate as well as I can.  It is fun.  I just am very careful to wear dark clothing at mealtime (because there are not enough Tide sticks in the country to keep my white shirts clean).  Ah, mealtime seems to be every few hours.  They cannot stop feeding me!  I often am turning down food.  In Ghana, and probably Africa in general, food never goes to waste.  When I am finished the children will eat my food.  There will always be someone to eat it.  It is very taboo to throw out food.  Also, note that I say "I ate."  I do not eat with the family.  They serve me my food separately, often in my room or in the kitchen.  I am told that is quite normal, and that it will take awhile to be able to eat with the family.  They typically eat outside, sitting at a bench sharing one large pot of stew and fufu or banku.  It's all apart of the adventure I guess.  Food here is so much fun!  It is such an experience to eat stew with your hands.  Haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tonight I went into New Tafo (a few towns over) to watch the Black Star match with some fellow PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees, aka my people) and PCVRFs (I am catching on to the acronyms- are you?).  They won!  It was lots of fun.  We watched it at a "spot," which is a bar.  Ugh, we were fending off marriage proposals and sleezy men who wanted to come home with us most of the evening, either to our homes here or to America.  Another typical evening in Ghana- the spectacle of the whole goddam town.  In our well-travelled spots it is not so much a problem, but as soon as you step out of home it can be very discomforting.  My friend decided that she would never want to be a celebrity!  It's true, because everyone (EVERYONE) wants to talk to you, or just stare at you.  Not because you are interesting, but because you are white.  Even on the tro, sometimes you hear, "Oh look, the obruni said 'how much'," "Oh look, the obruni just yawned," "The obruni is looking out the window," "The obruni just scratched a mosquito bite," etc etc.  It gets old after awhile.  For some, it is just that we are new to the village, or for the children they do not know better.  With the others though, it is just annoying.  I try to be nice, moreso than most of the others, because I want to understand.  But it wares, and I am not a show.  I am starting to say (in my Ghanaian English), "Do I look like a television?  Is this a show?"  My most popular Twi phrases are, "Yemfre me obroni, yefre me Megan" (My name is not obruni, my name is Megan) or "Obibini!" (Black person!).  The latter one usually gets a laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tomorrow morning our education training begins.  We will spend the next 2 weeks observing teachers and forming lessons, ultimately teaching our own lessons to a Ghanaian class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh, one last interesting thing.  As many of you know, Portland is full of Michiganders.  I figured by moving to Ghana I would escape that.  But, of course, our group has 2 of them.  The funny thing is, one of them (Meg) was friends with some of my Michigan friends (Vinh, Ben, Sarah, etc) before they moved to Portland!  In fact, she lived with Ben's girlfriend until just recently!  What a ridiculously small world.  Those Michiganders, watch out for them, they are seriously taking over the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I hope you are all doing well.  I would love to receive letters from home!  I promise I will write back.  Cheers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-3936223664893072315?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/3936223664893072315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=3936223664893072315' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/3936223664893072315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/3936223664893072315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/06/pst-begins.html' title='PST Begins'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273545855323932550.post-4081085601496810463</id><published>2008-06-18T14:38:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:12:36.423Z</updated><title type='text'>Hiawa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I made it back from my Vision Quest with all limbs intact!  It was quite the adventure.  I first took a tro-tro from Accra to Kumasi.  The "tro" was actually a very nice bus, with air conditioning and all!  I was quite comfortable.  We even stopped somewhere with flush toilets!  This is not the norm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;What is the typical tro like (much like the one I took from Kumasi to Hiawa)?  You first navigate the station, through a ridiculous maze of people shouting at you, grabbing your arm, and trying to sell you things until you somehow find the right tro.  Once you get there, you pay the driver and you sit down.  The thing is, they do not leave at set times- they leave when the tro is full.  And full means 30+ in a van with a maximum capacity for 20.  We're talking 6 people in a row for 3-4, not including children.  Not at all comfortable, especially when you have children vomiting and peeing next to you, sometimes on you.  Also, a tro can take all day to fill!  If you are going somewhere remote, plan on a long journey.  My tro from Kumasi to Hiawa took 4 hours to fill!  That means I was sitting, squished in the corner, inside of a hot, hot, HOT 1970 van that was falling apart for 4 hours.  4 hours of people staring at me, yelling at me, touching me, trying to get into my bag, trying to sell me things, pointing at me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The other thing about tros is that it is never quiet.  There is always music blaring, or some sort of political speech/talk radio at full volume.  As in, you may not even be able to hear the person next to you talking because it is so loud.  That is a big trend in Ghana.  There is always noise, from about 3:30 am to at least 8 pm, if not later.  In fact, when you enter someone's home, they will most likely turn ON their television and radio, if they own one.  Quite the opposite from America, where if someone comes over, it is customary to turn off anything making noise.  I think it is a sort of welcoming gesture in Ghana.  Welcoming is HUGE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anyway, you learn to zone out after awhile, but it is not comfortable.  A 4 hour tro ride became an 8 hour trip.  All in all, it took about 12 hours to reach my VQ site, though in a private car it would have taken around 7 hours.  Traveling here is an adventure in itself.  Oh, and it is the rainy season here.  And tros do not necessarily have leak-proof roofs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So if you are on a long tro ride and need to go to the bathroom, what do you do?  Well, first, try hard not to eat or drink before you go.  That is my strategy.  But, in the event you do (which is pretty often), you yell one of two things to the driver or mate (and you must YELL over the loud music).  You yell, "Driver, please stop, I need to urinate," or, "Driver, please stop, I need to shit."  Those are the only two phrases they will recognize (Ghanaians in general really only use these phrases).  Then the driver will pull over to the side of the road for you to do your business.  Expect some observers.  And don't forget your t-roll (toilet paper), because they sure don't provide it for you.  Oh yes, tro rides, they are so much fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Upon my arrival in Hiawa, I was greeted very warmly (and I needed to urinate very badly).  Erin was my VQ host.  I was very lucky to be with her.  I had my own bedroom and bathroom!  While I was there I learned to do laundry- we have it so easy in America.  I am going to have some ridiculously strong arms when I get home.  Some of the children hid in the bushes to watch and laugh at me while I attempted it!  Finally one of the children came over and showed me how to do it.  Boy they are strong.  Even the young children here have ripped arms- they are so buff.  They start working at a very young age.  We have no concept of hard work in America compared to what these children do here.  There is not really such a thing as a "fat" Ghanaian.  Some can be a bit heavy, but they are still very strong.  In fact, in Ghana, to be called fat is a compliment.  That means you are being fed well and taken care of.  "Oh madam, I see you are fatter today," is not an uncommon thing to hear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;One of the children I met, Eunice, is absolutely adorable.  Actually, every child here is adorable.  Fortunately, I was informed that you must be a Ghanaian citizen to adopt an Ghanaian child.  Otherwise, I would be coming home with a football team.  But Eunice, she is special.  I will post some pictures of her soon.  She came over to bring Erin some tomato plants.  This 8 year old girl and her machete planted them all like a pro, even cutting down some of the tree branches so they would get the proper light.  Children carry machetes here everywhere, even sometimes to school!  Wow.  I did learn how to hack a scorpion in half with one- it was a powerful feeling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Later that afternoon (Sunday), Erin took me to her Girls Club, which is her secondary project.  Girls here are treated like second class citizens- they often do not talk (because their voice is really not well valued) and are pushed around by the boys.  (In fact, as enlightened as the headmaster seemed, he would not even acknowledge that Erin has been running a Girls Club for over 6 months- even though his own daughter attends!)  The Girls Club is a way to get the girls alone and work on projects and have discussions in a safe environment.  On this particular day, the girls prepared some songs and dances to perform for me!  It was wonderful.  I also "flashed" them (took pictures), and will post them on Flickr soon.  The girls have wonderful voices.   Song and dance are deeply apart of the culture.  Of course, they wanted me to sing for them and teach a song.  Ugh.  But, I'm in Africa, right?  So, the only song I could think of was "Twinkle Twinkle."  They learned it so quickly!  They even found me at school the next day to perform it for me!  It was quite special.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, that brings me to school.  Erin is a JHS teacher (Junior High School).  I attended with her for 2 days.  I have quite a bit to remark on the subject, though I am still processing my thoughts, so I will not write too much now.  Ghana has an interesting education system.  Unfortunately it is a partially corrupt system.  Everyone takes something from the person below them.  (As a side note, we met with the Minister of Education the day we arrived in Accra.  We were fed so well there- so well that each meal equated to one computer.  Our visit could have funded about 50 computers.  Glad to see the money is going to good use).  The schools have no money, sometimes no books.  The teachers do not always get paid, and if they are paid, it is not very much money.  Especially in the JHS.  As a result, the teachers are not very motivated to teach.  (I should say here, though, that this is only after visiting one school, though I hear it is somewhat common.)  The teachers may just sit in their break room all day, not attending their classes, letting the kids roam free.  Some may not even show up to work.  Some may not teach and just tell their kids to copy out of a textbook.  What they told me is that if they were paid more, they would teach better.  They will not try if they are not paid well.  I can understand that to a certain extent, although I do think there is such a thing as work ethic.  Not all teachers are like this, but a good portion are, at least at the school I visited.  This was not the most bothersome part to me, though.  What I had a difficult time with is the caning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Caning is a legal form of punishment in Ghana.  Almost all punishment is physical (i.e. sit with rock on your head, sit on your knees in the sun, splashing the kids with dirt, etc), and caning seems to be the most common.  I am told that at some schools it is minimal, but at the school I was at for the VQ it was pervasive.  The canings are public- humiliation is a big form of punishment here.  There are canings in the morning assembly, there are canings in classes, and there are canings in afternoon assembly.  Depending on the teacher, the child is often caned for giving the wrong answer, talking in class, not attending church (!!!), or other larger behavioral issues.  I have not entirely processed my feelings about this, but suffice it to say it is very disturbing.  I do not think a punishment is effective if the child continues to do the same thing over and over.  It was very hard not to say anything.  I am trying to accept that my role here is not to come and change the way of things here, or to preach my views about these issues.  My role is to accept, be supportive, and lead by example.  I can explain why I do not like to cane if someone asks, in an attempt for cross-cultural exchange, but I must be very careful to not extend any judgement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anyway, Hiawa is a very welcoming town, and Erin knew everyone.  Walking to get some food could take a half an hour because of the greeting!  This is rather typical in Ghana.  I had to go meet to chief and the council of elders, which was very exciting.  I also was taken around town to meet many of the prominent PTA members.  There was actually to be a meeting to introduce me to the PTA,  but it began to rain, so it was cancelled (Ghanaians do not like the rain, they run like bandits at the sign of a drop!!).  Once the rain stopped, the headmaster and a few of the PTA members came to where I was staying and presented with with 10 Ghana Cedis!  It was a very nice gesture.  That is a lot of money.  For me, that is 5 days pay, that is a phone call home, that is a lot of money!  It was very flattering.  I also felt a bit uncomfortable.  I did not want to accept it, but that would have been very rude and disrespectful.  Gifts were abound in Hiawa!  The children brought me different food with notes.  It was adorable.  I actually took photos of the notes and will post them on Flickr.  It was hard not to cry.  Especially when some of these children are hardly eating at home because they have no money, yet it was so important to them to welcome me.  All in all, I came out with 2 pineapples, 2 coconuts, 1 pear (avocado), 2 apples (dragonfruit-type things), 2 bags of roasted peanuts, 2 bunches of bananas, and a loaf of bread.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Hiawa was a great adventure.  Erin has done such a great job integrating into her community, you can tell she is loved.  I hope that I will be able to be half as good of a volunteer as her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Thinking back, I cannot believe everything that has happened in the past year.  I have made some wonderful friends, I have learned to deal with loss, I graduated college, I found an awesome job, I had my first real roommate, I took the MCAT, I observed countless brain surgeries, I found a mentor, I moved to Africa, I travelled the frightening roads of Ghana solo, I met with the Ghanaian Minister of Education, I had drinks with the African head of USAID, I partied at the home of the US Ambassador to America, I have been eating fruit, I am learning a new language, I hacked a scorpion with a machete, and on and on.  So much has changed.  Life is hard right now, but I am so happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1273545855323932550-4081085601496810463?l=medindemegan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/feeds/4081085601496810463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1273545855323932550&amp;postID=4081085601496810463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4081085601496810463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1273545855323932550/posts/default/4081085601496810463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://medindemegan.blogspot.com/2008/06/hiawa.html' title='Hiawa'/><author><name>Megan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06068345263712956856</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4vBew4moDUs/S2sEdAw41EI/AAAAAAAAAHE/7KvqSLL7Jv4/s1600-R/22546_546935350431_42005115_32086500_3906282_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
