Evangelical Hallmark Company

George and his uncle

 Grinding up fufu

Yesterday, I received my fourth marriage proposal this week.  It should be flattering, but it has become tedious to repeatedly say no.  Apparently, Ching Chong Obruni is a hot commodity.  In seriousness, a lot of foreigners encounter this phenomenon if they stay in Ghana for an extended amount of time.  Ghanaians often look up to foreigners, assuming that they are rich and have the power to bring them and their family out of poverty.

Much to my chagrin, my room, or more aptly, my cave, is right next to a rooster hang out spot.  That means at 4:00 A.M. every morning, I wake up to the rooster's ear splitting "cuckoo-ing."  In my first day, I was so irritated with the "foul" creature that I made up my mind to silence the fowl by all possible means only to find out that the bird is safely ensconced in a cage.  I have tried to poke it into silence with a stick, suggested eating it to my host mother, and thrown rocks at it.  But the rooster is still a reliable alarm clock, only set three hours too early.  One effect of living up and close to chickens is that I will never have any more moral qualms about eating them.  They honestly are one of the dumbest, most irritating, and the nastiest creatures alive.

Speaking of animals, I have not seen the family feed the livestock/"pets".  The family does not have enough money to feed both the animals and the children.  The goats roam around the village eating some truly disgusting things, and I imagine that the dogs hunt at night.  The dogs here are nocturnal- I imagine that they are descendants of some tropical wild dog that slept during the hottest parts of the day and hunted during the cool parts.  Anyway, perhaps because these dogs have to fend for themselves, they are sharper than most Western dogs.  One time, I was lost in a bush trail during an imprudent late night walk only to realize that one of the dogs had been following me the whole time.  When I paused, the dog ran ten yards ahead of me, looked back, and when I caught up, the dog repeated the routine until we got to the house.

Ghana is the most flagrantly Christian country that I have seen.  Ghanaians like to show their faith in the naming of their businesses.  I would estimate that eight out of ten tro tros here have decal that doesn't say its destination, but religious messages.  These are appropriate messages for Ghanaian tro tros.  Tro tros are the mass transit vehicles that typically are 20-30 year old van designed to seat six, but modified to seat 25.  These understandably have a very high fatal accident rate.  So the messages of "pray" is quite apt while braving these unpredictable vehicles.  Cumulatively, especially when you encounter Trust in God Hair Saloon, Innocent Blood Restaurant, and Virgin Club, it feels like you are stuck in a world run by an evangelical Hallmark company.

Pa, the youngest, pooped on me.  I was lifting him when I heard a farting sound, and when I looked down, there was a nasty green goo on Julia's bed and on my clothes.  I wish there were diapers, but when you're pressed for cash, you have to make do.

Well, some things...
Rebecca is leaving tomorrow for Germany. 

Next week, Julia and I plan to take a trip to a lake to break the restless monotony of village life. 

Monday, hopefully, I will start at the hospital.

Ching Chong and Fufu

From Yesterday- (8-24-11)

Notice the sticker on Julia's forehead

Drawing lesson

Reading time

The market at a nearby town

More of the market

Rebecca with a kid

The locals here have finally settled on a name for me.  Ching Chong Obruni.  It is very annoying, but also amusing.  The Ghanaians are not exactly the most educated or "cultured" people, so although it is wearisome being called out everywhere I go (sometimes in a friendly way, other times in a hostile way), I can't fault them. 

My host mother is a wonderful person.  She was abused by her step-mother when she was a kid, and she vowed to alleviate the suffering of others.  She found some of the kids living on the streets literally without any clothes and adopted them.  There is no nepotism toward her own children - she treats the orphans the same as her kids.  Because of the additional burden of orphans, she is not able to give her children the same opportunities that she would have otherwise been able to provide. 

The orphanage/house is seriously lacking in supplies.  There is no running water, most of the children do not have clothing that fit, and no one has proper shoes.  If anyone could help out, please send me a message on facebook or comment here. 

Anyway, due to some unbelievable professional irresponsibility from the hospital, I do not have the paperwork to start until Monday.  I almost exploded on those semi-responsible, but thankfully did not say many things that I will regret.

So I have been helping in the orphanage  - yesterday we took the kids out to the soccer park (well, a clearing in the forest), and one of the kids kicked the ball into the dense brush.  So while the bigger kids were in the brush looking for the ball, I realized that the littlest one (18 months) was missing.  We only discovered where he was because he started crying out - it turns out that he crawled into the brush following the bigger kids and disturbed some African ants.   We had to undress him, take the ants off the clothes, and brush off his body free of ants.  An unforeseen consequence of this misfortune is that the toddlers, seeing Pa (the baby) naked, thought that it would be cool if they also striped butt naked.  We spent the next five minutes tracking down the kids to put some clothes on them. 

The obrunis like going to a "spot" where they can get away from the bustle of the kids and do some Western activities.  Going to the "spot" with the Germans in the evenings has become the favorite part of my day - sitting outside and looking at the African stars is very relaxing. 

Yesterday, after we came back from the soccer park, I met a Ghanaian 17 year old, George, who asked if I would like to play soccer with his friends.  I agreed and we went to his house, and played a game of two v two soccer.  The goals each consisted of two rocks placed five yards apart.  Afterwards, I met rest of his siblings, Elvis (20), Derek (19), Theophillius (14), and Eunice (I don't remember her age), his cousins, his uncles, and his parents. 

In Ghana, a test that parallels the American SAT is called the ICT - it measures basic computer literacy.  So parents with multiple children try their best to acquire computers that their kids can practice on.  Admittedly, the electronic device looked out of place, but the mom, seeing a obruni, asked me to type something.  I did so at a blazing pace, and in Ghana, being able to type fast is apparently an important skill, so they were amazed.  Tangentially, speaking of finger exercises, I have not been able to find a piano in the village and have repeatedly caught myself playing lap piano.

Anyway, their mom, Mrs. Botwe, made me stay for dinner, and I thought that it would be impolite to refuse, so I ate fufu, a ground up mixture of plantains and cassava with a fish soup, with the boys.  Traditionally, in Ghana, one does not use silverware to eat, but instead uses his or her right hand to eat the food out of a communal bowl.  It is much like some Korean style of dining, minus the silverware.  I will try to post a picture of it sometime. 

I did not eat my usual amount at the Botwes because I knew that my host mother prepared a meal for me at home and knew that her feelings would be hurt if I do not eat all of her food.  I painfully forced down the usual massive amount of starch,  but I let it slip that I ate some fufu at the Botwes.  Her feelings were hurt.  She is a simple, good hearted person who loves taking care of people.  Unfortunately, it is a slight to her hospitality that I ate at an another house, so next time, I'll be sure to omit my culinary adventures in a conversation with her. 

Anyway, it is a thirty minute round trip from the Internet Cafe to the house - luckily the village installed one a couple of months before I arrived, otherwise I would have no Internet access.  I figured out how to circumvent the system to maximize my Internet time.  I found a way to pay for one hour of Internet time, and use it for five hours.  So, I will be able to write more frequently here. 

More to come....

More Village Life

Taking a walk in the village

 Paw

 The one on the right is Kingsley

Village life is very interesting.  Whenever a foreigner walks anywhere, he or she is greeted by the cries of "obruni!" which means foreigner.  It is not meant to be offensive, they just like to say it.  Couple of times, I said "babini" back, which means black person, but then they just laughed and kept saying "obruni" just to hear me say "babini."  Also, among the Ghanaians in the village who can distinguish between a White person and an Asian person (for a lot of the villagers, I am the first Asian person that they have seen), I am greeted by the calls of "China!" at which, I alternatively answer back "Korea!" or "America!" 

The fact that the official language of Ghana is English is misleading.  Almost all Ghanaians speak a tribal dialect at home, and learn English at school.  Additionally, since a lot of Ghanaians did not attend school, it is sometimes impossible to communicate effectively without resorting to ludicrous hand motions.  I will try to utilize my amazing language skills *sarcasm* to learn Twi (the local language).

Antonia left for Germany today.  She has been in Akwatia for a whole year teaching at the primary school.  The Ghanaian church threw a party for her on Sunday and unveiled a plaque at the school with her name on it.  She was very sad about leaving, and she plans to visit in the next year or two. 

Since Antonia left, there are three "obrunis" left in the village.  Today, I was supposed to start at the hospital, but the person from SYTO who was supposed to give me the orientation did not come but instead said he'll come tomorrow.  Welcome to Africa! 

Anyway, after the tearful goodbyes to Antonia, the two Germans and I went shopping.  It only costs 10 Cedis ($6.66) for a hand made dress, so the girls visited various seamstresses ordering clothing while I was able to buy a charger for my cellphone

Since I have been in Ghana, I have not felt clean.  The host family does not have running water, so in order to wash yourself, you have to fetch water from the well.  Also, the fact that the children in the orphanage pee in the shower does not make the experience any cleaner.  I have literally one minute left on the Internet Cafe time so I will conclude this post later.

Village Life

From Friday-Sunday (8-19-11 to 8-21-11)

Kids at the house

 "Don Pablo"

 Family's goats

 All these dogs do is sleep

I finally arrived at my project.  The journey to Akwatia made me greatly appreciate the interstate system of the U.S.  Although on a map, Akwatia appears to be less than an hour away from Accra,  the road trip took four hours.  The voyage involved driving on many non-roads (roads without any pavement), sitting in a shared taxi with two very huge hipped women  in the back, and running over a chicken. 

On the way, I became aware of some bumps on the road.  These are bumps that fling you up in the air, granting you moments of weightlessness.  It is much like mid-flight turbulence except that as you shoot toward the top of the tro-tro, you become painfully aware that there are no seat belts to prevent the impending spinal injury.  To say it was interesting would be an understatement. 

Akwatia is an strange town.  It has one semi-paved road running through the "downtown" and many dirt trails leading to residential areas.  It is a big town/village and most people live poorly.  Exceptionally, it has two large western style houses seemingly cropping up from nowhere, providing a startling contrast to the huts and the livestock that line the paths. 

My host family is large.  There are twelve little kids (the host mother adopted orphans), two big kids (20 and 19), three German volunteers, one Spanish volunteer, three dogs, thirteen goats, and three cats.  Although there were four volunteers, the Spaniard left this Sunday, and two Germans, Antonia and Rebecca, are respectively leaving on Monday and next Friday.  So it will be just Julia and me for some time, although more volunteers will likely arrive in September.

My older host brother, Derrick, illustrates the extent of the diffusion of American pop culture.  When he learned that I was from America, he continuously said things like "are there n**** running arround the hood?" "what's your n***** name?  My n**** name is Don Pablo" and quotes straight out of rap songs that he implements into everyday conversation.  He anointed me "Don J," if you were curious what my n**** name is.

I can confidently say that hours spent at the host family's will be slow paced.  Even with the children climbing all over me, I was able to relax and read a great deal of Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment."  There is not a lot to do here- the white people like going to this one bar (I guess you can call it a bar) where they can sit on lounge chairs and drink.

Wow!  Fragmented!  Well, tomorrow, I will start my work at a hospital.  According to Ander, the Spaniard who I will replace, they will give you the opportunity to do things that you are not qualified for if you prove yourself, so we'll see what happens.

Black Father and Yaaaaaa

8-18-11

Today was the last day of orientation.  Tomorrow, Bianca and I will be transported across Ghana to our projects, while Per Odd will stay in Accra teaching in the secondary school.  Bianca will go to Tamale, twelve and a half hour bus ride from Accra, and I will go to Akwatia, a village where the nearest internet source is a twelve minute drive away.  I will try to make it a daily routine to run the fifteen miles or whatever it is to the Internet Cafe as long as my flat feet hold up. 

We had a Ghanaian cooking lesson on how to make a dish called Red Red.  It consists of plantains fried in vegetable oil with a blend of black eyed peas, palm oil, tomatoes, onions, tomato sauce, and tuna.  It was outstanding.  I will be sure to add that to my already impressive culinary repertoire...

This morning, we met another German volunteer, Martina, finishing her two months in Ghana.  She taught primary school kids in a town called Wale Wale.  Most female volunteers receive anywhere between five to fifteen marriage proposals during their stay, and Martina was no exception.  Actually, a lot of volunteers pretend to be married and carry pictures of their "husband" in order to avoid these awkward proposals. 

After finishing the Red Red, we went on the last part of our orientation-the city tour.  Serendipitously, my Malian friends and Martina, whose flight does not leave until Saturday, accompanied us on the tour as well. 

The market was the first stop on the itinerary.  It was a huge tent divided in to many sections with a shop in each.  I did not buy anything, but it was not because of the lack of effort from the sellers.  Like the vendors on the beach, the market vendors have to be very proactive to make a living because of the intense competition.  So every time we passed a shop, they would say  "Come back!  I give you good price!" or compliments like "You're strong man!  You must have had a black father!!!"  Some of the shops were very interesting.  One vendor selling goat skin African drums was cleaning the carcass of a goat from which he fashioned the drums.  The market presented a little bit of a dilemma- I wanted to bring business to the vendors who struggle for a living, but I am on a tight budget.

Afterward, we went to Old Accra and saw some hideous things.  Whole families living in a house that Americans would think was a dumpster (maybe it is), children bathing in a bucket inches away from the sewers, and other unimaginable poverty.  Seeing this made a deep impression on the Westerners.  Bianca said "I wouldn't even put my dog there"- being in Old Accra was like being on a different planet.

Upon returning to the hostel, we ate dinner and said goodbyes (Bianca will be staying in a place eleven hours away from me and we'll see about Per Odd) and I was about to write in my journal when a Swiss guy named Benny came in the dormitory.  Benny, initiating his gap year with Ghana, is the replacement for Martina in the Wale Wale village.  We took a walk and I told him things to watch out for in Ghana.  Tangentially, I still can't get over the way that the German Swiss say "yaaaa" as an affirmative.  I think that's really cool.  Anyway, we conversed very easily - he is an avid traveler.  Two weeks ago, he went on a ten day kayaking trip in the Finnish wilderness and last year, he volunteered in Mozambique.  We made vague plans to travel together (he will be 13 hours away from Akwatia) so we'll see if those come to fruition.

I don't know if I will be able to write tomorrow, but I will have a post up by Saturday.

Cooking Ghanaian food

 

Red Red

  Malian friends

Martina

 Goats-Very common: runs with cars on the road

 Pigs-Emergency Ghanaian food source

These photogenic kids asked for a picture

Urinating and defecating in public places is a problem in Ghana

 Houses

 More poverty-that wooden shack to the right is a house

-

Really, the poverty was so bad in Old Accra that it felt like we were on another planet

Home and Mali

From Yesterday- (8-17-11)

I was finally able to talk to my parents today.  I was so excited when I found a way to call from Ghana to America that I disregarded the time differential and called at 5:30 AM America time.  Although I awoke my mom from the confines of la la land, she was nevertheless happy to hear my voice.  Obviously, my dad reprimanded me for being ripped off on the painting yesterday, but I love you too, dad.

After Per Odd and I tried to get our visas extended (Bianca is staying only until the end of the first week of September because of the start of the Belgium university and Per Odd is staying nine weeks), the three of us went window shopping in a world without windows.  Unfortunately, my camera ran out of battery so I do not have pictures of this adventure.  Along the way, I noticed luxury vehicles in a street almost fit for wagons.  This reinforced the fact that Ghana, like most developing countries, has a large disparity of wealth between the few members of the upper class and the average Ghanaian.  To illustrate this phenomenon, the Gross Domestic Product per Capital for Ghana is $ 2500 (source: CIA- The World Factbook) but the medium Ghanaian income is $ 400 a year.  I heard in the orientation that the government is very corrupt and takes bribes from the very wealthy.

Anyway, I bought a mosquito net, and we were about to find a restaurant when Bianca received a call from the volunteer office asking us to be there at noon for a health session.  Then, we experienced "Africa time" first hand.  The doctor who was supposed to review all the dangers of various parasites and viruses was 45 minutes late.  Africans have a very flexible sense of time.  When they say meet them at noon, they actually mean meet them some time between 12:15 to 1:00.

After the health session, during which the doctor described the grisly afflictions that happen because of low sanitation, we went to an African dance and drumming session.  It is safe to say that Per Odd was about two or three decades too old for the African dance.  But the session was fun - Bianca and I even bought an African drum for 55 Cedis each.  We can customize the designs on the drums and have texts curved on to it (we will pick it up at the office right before we leave Ghana). 

Unfortunately, our German friends, Dennis and Enrica, left tonight.  Dennis was very helpful giving me tips on African survival.  He will come to America some time next year, so I am hoping that he will visit me. 

After the Germans left, I went to the Internet Cafe to keep up with the West.  There, I encountered five kids from Mali living in Ghana for the summer vacation.  Although we had an obvious language barrier (they didn't know English and I sure as heck didn't know French), the second oldest one (16 years old), who I said hi to and gave African handshakes (like an American handshake except that each person takes the middle finger of the other and both parties snap simultaneously) whenever I encountered him this week said in broken English "you're my friend."  So, I responded, "Yeah, I'm your friend."  As a result of this, he even ended up paying for my time at the Internet Cafe.  I objected, but he really wanted to pay for me.

My friends from Mali love pictures.  They are affluent Malians, and they have a camera and a facebook.  Soon, sometime in the next week, I expect that my Malian friends will bombard me with pictures on facebook.  Anyway, despite the language barrier, we conversed - they showed me Mali music on youtube and the town in Mali they lived on Google Maps and after extensive sign language communication, I told them what snow was.  This illustrates the point that as long as one is genuinely interested in another person, no matter what area of the world or what language one speaks, one can find meaningful companionship.

Malian friends

Bianca was not as eager for a picture

Lunch - Per Odd and Bianca

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Tears, Party Coffins, and Starvation

 Coffins

 How Ghanaians live

 Commercial fishing boat

From Yesterday (8-16-11)

It took me a while to put this up because I am using a Norweigian computer.

I finally slept sufficiently!  Yesterday I was a little depressed for the first time in recent memory because of the combination of culture shock and lack of sleep, and I have heard that crying makes you feel better, so I thought sad thoughts until tears finally came, and I felt a lot better!  Tears also enabled me to sleep!!

I will try to stop ending poorly written sentences with exclamation marks.

After that emasculating event, I woke up so energized and happy that I even liked Ghana.  Admittedly, today was relaxing as Per Odd, Bianca, and I went to the beach.  The sand was a little browner and the water was a little rougher than I am used to, but it was great nonetheless.  Well, the Norweigian and the Flemish got sunburnt despite the overcast skies, but it was fun for me. 

Looking out in to the water even reminded me of home.  The turbulent Gulf of Guinea did not resemble anything like the tranquil Escambia Bay outside of my parent's house, but the thought that I am looking at the same contiguous body of water made me think of home.  I have been urging my parents to visit, but unfortunately, they are utterly uninterested.

The only thing that I had a problem with on the beach were the roving vendors.  I was cheated almost immediately after my arrival to the beach by an artist named Dondi.  Some of these sellers are professional scam artists.  Dondi talked to me like he wanted a Western friend for at least 15 minutes saying things like "I'm black, you're white (actually, I'm orange thank you very much), but inside, we're both red.  So we're brothers" and "be happy be free!  You're at the beach!"  So, after 15 minutes of this, during which he gave me a "free" bracelet and a necklace, my suspicions were lowered enough to buy a 50 Cedis (33.33 dollars) painting from him when I could have bought it in the market for 35 Cedis and the village for 20 Cedis.  Almost as soon as I handed him the money, I realized that I was swindled.  It is a nice painting that would cost more than 33.33 dollars in the States, but it was way over the Ghanaian market price.  Also, after he had finished with me, he tried to move on to Per Odd and Bianca.  Neither was as stupid as I was.  We encountered these opportunists about once every five minutes, but we were not cheated again.

But to reiterate, the beach was very enjoyable- Bianca and I went swimming while Ghanaian women were blanketed around Per Odd trying to give him massages.

Afterwards, we went to a coffin shop.  In the western world, it would be a strange place to go for fun, but Ghanaians party at funerals.  After the body is in the ground, they play music, drink, and dance to celebrate the life of the dead one.  Reflectively, the coffins were in bright colors in eclectic shapes (crab, phone, Nike shoe, etc).  Bianca lost her confidence in English briefly because of the coffins.  Although she initially thought that she knew what a coffin was, upon seeing these party coffins, she thought she was mistaken.  She disbelievingly kept asking "dead people go in there?" because it was such a contrast to gloomy Western coffins.  Maybe Ghanaians have it figured out when it comes to funerals-be happy be free.

I was mentally rehabilitated today but I physically atrophied.  The unfortunate side effect of getting nine hours of sleep was that I missed Breakfast.  Feeling bad about being swindled, I ate the cheapest thing for lunch on the way overpriced beach food menu (a chopstick with three little pieces of meat on it).  Also, for dinner, since our German friends did not want to walk five minutes to the local restaruant where the same delicious filling meal costs one Cedi compared to ten cedis for the same meal at the hostel (the hostel had a TV and the Germans wanted to watch a Soccer game), I again ordered the cheapest thing on the menu: a sorry vegetable soup with about ten kernels of corn, peas, and green beans.  I highly doubt that I ate more than 150 Calories today.  Anyway, other than starving in Africa, today was the best day so far in Ghana.

Sidewalk=Toilet

From Yesterday-
It's amazing how much I take for granted in the USA.  I started having this sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized that I was going to be here for five months... it seems like an awfully long time, especially given that I haven't been able to sleep longer than two hours at a time so far.  Today, I met two German volunteers who were finishing their time working in an orphanage and headed to Germany Wednesday.  They spent three weeks in a rustic town in northern Ghana without running water or electricity- they originally signed up for nine weeks, but then, the monotony and the inconvenience of life there got to them. 

I bought a phone and a SIM Card today- turns out that I was supposed to bring a phone from America and put a Ghanaian SIM Card in it.  But after the unfortunate incident with my American phone, I had to buy a phone here.  The plan and the phone cost 39 cedis-equivalent to 26 dollars.  I bought the cheapest plan but I am going to need to purchase an international phone card.  

When I was outside in the Old Accra (downtown) to purchase a phone plan, I was literally mobbed by people on the street trying to sell me things.  I would say "No thank you."  and they would be like, "you want sandal?  you want sandal.  you want sandal!"  and chase me around.  While driving on the road in Accra, I saw a flock of goats, two dozen strong running with the oncoming traffic, a woman in the sidewalk ally taking a dump, and we were inches away from hitting street vendors and people on numerous occasions.  Oh yeah, we also drove on the sidewalk half the time.

The transport system of choice here is called a tro-tro.  They are, or were, vans designed for eight people, but they have been modified to seat 25.  It looks like a Nazi transportation system for the Jewish people.  But you have to make do when you make $ 400 a year.  For a stark comparison, it takes 82,500 Ghanaians to earn the same amount of money that A-Rod makes in a year.

 

Yeah, so it's pretty crazy here, but I'm trying to adjust... and I don't know why I can't freaking fall asleep!!!

Breast Milk

Today, I arrived in Ghana through a 30 hour odyssey.  First, I flew out of Pensacola Airport to Washington DC, where I had a 11 hour layover, then to Frankfurt, Germany, and then finally to Accra, Ghana.  This trip did not make any sense logistically- there was a flight to Accra from Washington DC only 30 minutes after the D.C.-Frankfurt flight.  But, on the upside, the trip was relatively cheap.

I met some cool and uncool people on my way to Accra.  Since my dad serves in the Military, I was able to stay in a "USO" in DC where I was able to gorge on cup noodles for free, which was nice, but then I had an encounter with two soldiers headed to Afghanistan.  When I asked if they were nervous, one of them replied "No, man, I can't ****ing wait to blow the ****ers heads off" with the other consenting in the background. So, I just replied with an impersonal "cool," and dug in to my fifth bowl of cup noodles. 

On the D.C.-Frankfurt flight, I had the opportunity to sit next to an archaeologist who just came back from the Amazon rain forest studying breast milk, urine, and feces.  Matt, the archaeologist working on his dissertation at UCSB, scientifically explained how studying those three bodily fluids reveals the nutrients that are missing from Amazonian's diet and how it might reveal the diet of early humans.  Personally, I think it would be rather awkward asking for breast milk, but maybe that's just me.  I would usually be a little suspicious of exaggeration, along with his claim of involvement in hunting monkeys with hunter-gatherers in Tanzania, but he smelled and looked like a venturing archaeologist, so I believe him.  For the next three weeks, he is headed to Southern Germany for a relatively tedious study on the remains of an early Germanic tribe.  That guy's going to end up on the Discovery Channel one day.

It was about 7 P.M. Ghana time when I landed in Accra Airport.  Surprisingly, I did not lose a single article on this 30 hour trip.  Score one for me, score zero for irresponsibility.  I soon met two of the three people who I was going to have the week orientation with- an older teacher from Norway whose name is "Pierre Old?" (except for that the Pierre sounds like a cross between Pier and Pierre and Old sounds like a cross between Olt and Old) headed to teach Physics and Mathematics at a Secondary School (I'm going to call him Mr. PO) and a girl from Belgium named Bienka (sp.) headed to teach a primary school way out there in the countryside.  There is one more girl arriving tomorrow.  Anyway, Bienka speaks four languages-Flemish, French, German, and English and Mr. PO speaks two-Norweigian and English, so the amazing thing was that they could both communicate fluently in English despite it being Bienka's third or fourth language.  Apparently, this language fluency is the norm in Europe.

Also turns out that America is not the only country having problems because of political partisanship. Belgium has not had a government in two years because the Flemish and the French cannot agree on anything.  Anyway, I have more things to write about but I have my Internet Cafe time is running out (it's almost 2 A.M. here) and I have to send an email to my mom who is missing her baby.  More to come on all the adventures in Ghana.