For this post I will step away from the usual “update” theme and talk about one of the many gradual changes of perspective I am experiencing here: Nature.
In the states I was very much a fan. Anything from a simple walk in a park or in the woods to weekend camping trips could easily invoke my appreciation and general awe of nature. The sound of wind rustling leaves in the trees, birds singing; the sun piercing through those same leaves and forcing your pupils to adjust; the smell of a fresh spring morning. It was all wonderful. I thought that in Ghana I would find a parallel world of sights, sounds and smells not so different from this. Turns out I was wrong. Something happened – gradually, preventing me from recognizing it until it was too late. Don’t misunderstand; there are countless wonders here in Ghana that are just waiting for you to experience them. Gorgeous sunsets. More stars than you’d think ever existed. Birds of extraordinary colors and songs. Unfortunately there are also a number of unsavory experiences to accompany the these, experiences I didn’t expect to find in this parallel nature. Going outside to brush my teeth in complete darkness, then coming back out in 5 minutes with a light only to realize there was a scorpion crawling around in the courtyard. Going out to the latrine and on the way back having my shadow chased by a camel spider. Waking up at 3am, then 4am, then 5am (repeating until I decide to get up) by roosters crowing. The constant, epic battle between bamboo fence and goat. A heavy rain washing away the earth under the corner of the house. All of these experiences, while mostly harmless, have left a foul taste in my mouth when it comes to nature. Now, when I bathe under starlight, all I see is just random pinholes in the sky, instead of Orion lying prone (and every day lower in the western sky), the big dipper to the north, always upside down, etc. When I peer outside the screen door in the morning I am looking for goats in the far garden (the most deteriorated of the three) or children throwing rocks at the fence (or house, or cat, or anything), not at the sun spraying light onto the moringa trees. Yes, somehow, I reached the point where I now abhor nature. I don’t think about what kind of tree this is, or what kind of insect that is. I just know which trees will rot if you use them for fence posts and that every insect that lands on my skin should be immediately swatted and disposed of.
I suppose there is an elevated wildness here (farmers often suffer from snakebites, malaria is a constant threat) that my life pre-Peace Corps did not prepare me for. But what then do you call having only 100 yards of broken trail separating me from a black bear? Or exceeding the temperature rating of my sleeping bag? Or Are these experiences not wild?
When I settled in at site and started to notice the behavior of Ghanaians toward nature, I was appalled. For most, the strategy is simple. By fire, flood, or weapon, eliminate (that is, kill) any “wild” living thing that is considered even the most moderate nuisance. Why not just let the snake cross the road instead of swerving to hit it? Why kill the small ground squirrel if they are taboo for your culture to eat? Now that my own attitude toward nature has soured, I can almost relate to this behavior. It’s somewhat chilling, but it is also eye-opening. Maybe the people I know here aren’t entirely ignorant in how they view nature. Maybe nature brings enough negatives here that it’s just too difficult to see the positives.
The last remaining question for now is this: Is this a trend that will continue through my service, and even when I return to the states, or will some event, or gradual therapy (read: frequent walks in the woods), jar me from my melancholy and allow me to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings again? I’ll let you know.
