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.
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.
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