48 Hours of Maddness!

(Written Nov. 9th)

Today, I’m doing as little as possible. I will still check in on my Moringa gardens, call the district to remind them to complete some clinic work, read with Rebecca, a middle school girl who’s leg is causing her to miss school, and meet with the village chief. Besides these minor items, it’s a heavy dose of R & R for me. To explain why, let me run through the past 2 days:

(Some background: The Ghanaian government is paving the main road through the eastern corridor, which includes our area of the Volta Region. The work has been split among 3 construction crews. The crew on our section of the road, running from the district capital north to the Oti river (about 60 km) are a group of Chinese engineers that are doing work in Ghana. Jumbo #1 happens to be right about middle of their section, so they've picked Jumbo as the site for their heavy machinery and materials yard. They are currently erecting a concrete block wall that will encircle the enormous yard. Eventually buildings will go up, maybe a well for water, etc. They're hiring local Ghanaians to do the heavy labor and other advisory positions.)

Lot for Heavy Machinery...

Two days ago my counterpart Joseph, the Ghanaian I work with most closely in the village, accepted the position of watchman at the equipment yard. This would require him to be at the yard from 7am to 6pm, 7 days a week, holidays included, to field any issues or problems between the contractors and the local community. The job pays 80 cedis per month (about $54USD).

Huge Wall

Now, I should mention that Joseph is probably one of few reasons I've been successful in this village. After 14 months working beside him, becoming his friend, mentoring him in matters of health and otherwise, he was just going to quit. I was completely devastated. I wanted to quit myself.

After discussing my devastation with him one on one that evening (after his first day on the job), we talked again yesterday morning, during which he told me that he changed his mind. He admitted that after talking with me, his wife, the chief, his peers, and elders, he had made the wrong decision and “couldn't be happy with it.” As counterpart and health volunteer, he's doing a thankless job, as the positions are unpaid and have minimal perks. But he understands that even if he doesn't receive money, he can still see some rewards (doing good for his community, the opportunity to be mentored by a Peace Corps volunteer, the cultural exchange between Ghanaian and American) and that, in his words, "God will reward him." In sum, the crisis was averted, but that brief period of uncertainty was extremely trying and stressful.

So yesterday, after receiving this good news, I felt like I had fresh chance at my service in Ghana. I realized that I had taken it’s comfort and ease for granted and resolved to correct this behavior. By mid-morning some community extension workers came to the village. They were doing a survey of pregnant/young mother’s knowledge of vitamin A, Iron, and folic acid supplements and iodated salt. I took the opportunity to ask them how they could better inform the women in the community about those 3 essential nutrients.

Their visit was followed by a visit from a nearby nurse. I had called her the day before when I was in the middle of my debacle with Joseph, so she decided to come and console me in person. I told her the good news that Joseph had relented; we also discussed future plans for the clinic in Jumbo and health initiatives in the area.

After this, I sent an email to USAID. They had featured a nutrition project of mine as a success story. I told them I was honored to have Jumbo featured, but I also took the opportunity to ask for more. My work with nutrition in the village has been successful, but it’s not enough. When children reach a severe degree of malnutrition, they need more than a hospital that will treat them and release. They need rehabilitation, which can be provided more effectively by a Nutrition Rehabilitation Center. There is no such facility in the entire Volta region. So, I asked USAID to consider funding a center in the north Volta.

After exercising my fingers, I decided to walk around the village and exercise my legs. It was market day, a day on which most people do not work heavily. The conversations went something like this:

Tricia: Aa nwihn (Good afternoon)
Villager: Lafeah beh (I’m fine/healthy)
V: Aa nwihn (Good afternoon)
T: Lafeah beh (I’m fine)
V: Ngeen beh? (How’s the day?)
T: Lafeah beh (It’s fine)
T: Beah poah? (How are your children?)
V: Lafeah beh (They’re fine)
T: Acha poah? (How’s your husband?)
V: Lafeah beh (He’s fine)
T: Lituln poah? (How’s work?)
V: Lafeah beh (It’s fine)
T: Kisaak poah? (How’s your farm?)
V: Lafeah beh (It’s fine)
V: Acha poah? (How’s your husband?)
T: Lafeah beh (He’s fine)
V: Lituln poah? (How’s work?)
V: Lafeah beh (It’s fine)
**Laughter, because they are not working**
V: A cha la? (Where are you going?)
T: N cha do. (I’m going here—completely nonspecific, but widely accepted)
**Confused look on villager’s face, it’s market day, she should be going to market**
V: A cha kinyan? (You’re going to market?) A cha Kpassa? (You’re going to Kpassa—market town)
T: Nn nn. N chuun, n cha Jumbo do. (No, I’m walking. I’m going to Jumbo, here.)
V: A cha Agou?
**At this point they’re straining to understand me, still confused I’m not going to market**
T: Nn nn. N chuun, n cha Jumbo do. (No, I’m walking. I’m going to Jumbo, here.)
V: Aa ha! (villager understands me now) **speaking very quickly repeating exactly what I said to all within earshot**
T: N cha nsan (I’m going to the road—asking permission to leave)
V: Yo! Umbor cheen si (Okay, that’s fine, God Bless you.)
T: Cani lituln (Thank you all!)

This is really fun for me, and the villagers appreciate it very much. I am thankful they’re willing to listen hard to me to try and understand, rather than be lazy and call their son or daughter that speaks English. During training I was taught a different dialect, so sometimes it’s a struggle. One of the people I went to greet was a man working with Moringa garden #2. He wasn’t around, so I continued down the main road. I had the same conversation with at least four groups of people in the span of a hundred meters. At one point the villagers were so happy with my language that they insisted I have some of their Ghanaian beer, called “Pito,” “on the house.” My next destination was garden #1. Along the way I was stopped again by the mother of a toddler that has severe astigmatism in one of his eyes. I stopped to instruct them on how to make an eye patch to try and fix the “lazy eye.” For this, I received a giant bowl of tomatoes. There’s no way I can eat them all, but it’s rude to turn down a gift, so I accepted.

I continued on to garden #1, and greeted the house owner near it, and those resting under the mango tree. My friend Rebecca was also sitting under the tree. She speaks fair English. She was also holding a baby, so I immediately borrowed him for my baby fix and sat under the mango tree for a short time speaking as much of the language as I could. I understood when they asked me in Likpalnpaln “why don’t you have a child?” I couldn’t answer well in the language, so Rebecca became my impromptu translator. This was a prime situation for me to encourage better family planning. Men of child producing age asking me why I don’t have children. I told them, because I practice “family planning.” It was translated and they laughed (it’s still a very new/unheard of concept). The particular child I was holding is the mother’s seventh. I told them that I wasn’t ready for children. First, I explained that I wanted to be able to support all of my children, before they are born. Second, I explained how to do “family planning,” through the use of condoms, pills, or an injection. I’m sure I didn’t make believers of them, but the seed was planted. As I walk through the village many of the mothers ask me to take their child to the US, both for a better opportunity and to relieve the pressure on the mother). This is their startling but practical solution to the problem – I hope they see my advice as a better solution.

Carrying a baby to visit Garden #1

The sun was getting intense as it neared 1 pm, so I walked home, greeting along the way, trying to insist that I had not just come back from market. I sat down to rest, and after 5 minutes Rebecca was at my house! I greeted her and asked her why she had come. Her family had sent her because she wasn’t doing anything else. (Read: “Go to the white lady’s house, she’ll probably have something for you to do.”) I seized the moment, and asked if she wanted to read one of the books I had bought in preparation for a library. Thus, yesterday marked the unofficial opening of the library! Rebecca was the first patron. She swept out the room, and we washed our hands and sat on a prayer mat and read. We also went over the alphabet and made letter sounds. She did well with some help and a lot of encouragement.

With Rebecca and her "brother"

I was able to rest in the house alone for another 10 minutes before calling one of the Chinese contractors we’d met a few days prior. He’s a nice guy, and is intrigued by our presence in the area. I asked to meet with him in Jumbo to ask a favor. Two days ago, I noticed pickup trucks going to and from the Jumbo river collecting barrels of water for the construction. I knew I’d need some water soon for mason work on the clinic. I figured, why not ask if they can use their nice truck and bring me some water, instead of putting even more pressure on the one working borehole in the village. He said, “no problem.” I was floored. We then walked over to my humble clinic site. After looking at it for a second, sizing up the work to be done he said, “Okay, so you’re going to need some sand too, so we’ll just drop some off here, and if you need some gravel, no problem.” He continued (as my mouth was gaping open), “You know, cement is 15GHC a bag, I can get you some for 14GHC a bag.”

He then asked where Kris was. I said in town, at market (it was already past 4pm). He was surprised, and said, “let’s go pick him up; I have some business in the town anyway.” I called Kris, told him to stay put and we met him in town. Kris still had things to buy in the market, so I accompanied the contractor on his “business.” We ended up talking for the next 1-2 hours while trying to find a source for sand, picking up grateful market women along the road on their long walk home from market to the more rural villages. We talked about Peace Corps for a long time, about sustainable development and the programs I was doing. I’m almost certain he still doesn’t quite understand why I would do such a thing, but it was not for lack of trying to explain. We also discussed less serious topics like American TV shows (his favorites are Friends, Prison Break, and Desperate Housewives).

By the time I returned home, it was well past dark (6pm). I continued my work for the day, by making phone calls. I like to “bother” people in the district as much as possible, so they complete their work on time/don’t forget about Jumbo. Once my phone calls were finished, Kris made me eat an egg sandwich, and I watched the Badgers VS UNLV game (thanks Uncle Phil!).

Those 48 hours were not normal for me; it was an extremely busy two days, physically and emotionally. Such is my life, full of surprises. Each day brings new challenges, successes, relationships and experiences. As the motto says, “Peace Corps is the toughest job you’ll ever love.”